Continuity: G1 and IDW comic-verse; AU
Pairing: Perceptor/Moonracer
Warning: Mild sexual situation, implied violence, and character death
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers.
"Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them."
－George Eliot
.
Glimmer
.
The moons were full and bright when he returned to Iacon.
It was midnight, and the corridors were deserted. Most of the bots were recharging by now. Springer had gone to Prowl's office to deliver the mission assessment report. As usual, the Wreckers had accomplished the task in record time. They intercepted the spy who turned out to be an Autobot traitor, leveled the targeted military facility, and eliminated all the Decepticon soldiers in the disputed area. A clean sweep, Springer had said. The Wrecker leader was proud of his team, especially after they blasted a bunch of Decepticons into pieces in their typical "wreck and rule" style.
Perceptor knew he had to go up there and present an investigation report about the possible locations of energon mines, but that could wait. Springer's briefing would take a while, and he had no desire to see the tactician's face when he just came back from a mission. Not now.
He stopped at the entrance of his quarters. A small computer panel was implanted on the right side of the door. Taking out a key card, he slipped the card through a slot and typed in the pass-key. The door slid open, revealing a simple suite with a private chamber, shower racks and a small working area. Everything was in good order. The door to his chamber was shut.
Perceptor walked straight toward the long table in the far corner of the room. Aside from some notes and tools, there was a pile of data pads neatly stashed together on his work surface. So Wheeljack has been here, he thought. In a swift motion, Perceptor removed the rifle from his back and put it on the table, then extracted two handguns from the subspace compartments on his sides and put them aside as well. When he was done, he took a deep breath and looked at the closed door.
He didn't want to go in there. It was foolish, because he knew he had to face her sooner or later no matter how many times he had lied to himself. After deliberating for a few kliks, he made up his mind and went to the door. There was another set of control panel beside the doorframe. He repeated the procedure, and the metal slab moved to one side with a hiss.
She was standing in front of the window, watching the city view with a data pad in one hand. He could recognize her slender form anywhere. The mint green paintjob matched her lithe frame perfectly, giving off an ethereal glow under the pale moonlight. She turned around when the door hissed open, and a bright smile lit up her face immediately. The femme put down the data pad and left it on the nightstand before she walked toward him.
"Hey, Percy. Welcome back."
Perceptor stood there, his face devoid of emotion while she approached him. Her smile was lovely, the small tug at the corner of her mouth brought out her exquisite facial features. She's endearing, ain't she? He could hear Wheeljack's laughter inside his head, and it bothered him to no end. He tried not to think about the engineer and his mirthful attitude.
The femme was watching him. She seemed a little confused by his behavior, but she didn't ask. Instead, she offered him another affectionate smile and poked at his chest.
"You look weird with that thing," she commented in a playful tone, motioning to the targeting monocle in place of his right optic. "But don't worry, I think you are still very handsome. Happy?"
He stared at her for a moment, then reached out and brushed his knuckles over her faceplate. The femme caught his hand, drawing it closer until his palm was firmly pressed against her cheek. She closed her optics, took a slow intake of air and leaned into his touch, relishing the intimate feeling.
"I miss you," she murmured.
Perceptor didn't know how to respond to her confession. He wanted to hug the femme and tell her how much he missed her presence, but that seemed so wrong. After a few nanokliks of awkward silence, he cleared his throat and tried to change the subject.
"How was your day? Everything okay here?"
The femme sighed. She tilted her head and looked him directly in the optics.
"Same old. They wouldn't let me out, and Wheeljack refused to unlock the door for me. He said I should take some rest and suggested I read that data pad if I was bored." She made a face, recalling the flustered engineer and his lame excuses. "He wouldn't look at me, and he left in a hurry like he had seen a ghost. He's so mean."
Perceptor didn't say anything. He cupped her face and gently stroked the smooth surface of her faceplate with a thumb. The mint green femme responded with a contented sigh before she turned her gaze back to his face, all the loving emotions swimming in those tender blue optics.
For some reason, his spark ached when she looked at him like that. It was too much. His hand dropped to his side, all of sudden he couldn't stand staying in the same room with her any longer. He took a step back, drawing an invisible line between them.
"I need to see Prowl."
"Oh, right. You have to brief him about your mission," she nodded, then looked up at him hopefully. "Will you be back after the meeting?"
"Yes."
"Good," she stood on tiptoe and pecked his cheek. "I'll be waiting here, then. I promise I will behave."
Those innocent words sent a pang to his spark. She was making things difficult, and he had to get out of there. Without saying a word, he withdrew from her touch and marched out of the room before the situation got worse. The lock fell back into place after the metal door closed behind him.
He leaned on the wall next to the locked door for some time, trying to regain his composure. What were you thinking? He rubbed a hand over his face and cursed at his stupidity. It was hard to reign in his impulse every time he met her alone after a mission. Behind the wall, he could hear the light footfalls pacing around the room. He stood there and listened to her movement for another few kliks, then he gave his head a shake and headed for Prowl's office.
Springer was no longer there when Perceptor stepped into the spacious room. The bare walls and lack of furnishing made the office look more like a large prison cell than a high-ranking officer's workspace. He greeted Prowl and handed over a data pad.
"This is the information you required. A holographic map marked with coordinates and details. They're all in there."
"Thank you," Prowl took it and glanced over the statistics figures on the pad. He flicked a finger across the screen and opened the files one by one, scrutinizing the data and processing the information. Several kliks later, he put down the data pad and returned his focus to the mech standing in front of his desk.
"How's she doing? Making any progress?"
Perceptor knew what the tactician was referring to. He hated to answer Prowl's questions, but he knew he had no right to defy a superior officer. No matter how much he resented him.
"It's still the same. I'm trying to fix the CPU glitch and improve the conjunction of the flawed neural network, but it will take some time. We're short of supplies, and the sessions are stressing her out. She can't sustain it if we intensify the process further."
"How much time do you need to rectify the problems?"
"I can't give you an accurate answer now. However, I'll discuss it with Wheeljack and give you a more detailed assessment report if you insist."
Prowl nodded and looked down at the data pad lying on the desk. He seemed to be struggling with something before he lifted his gaze to the sniper.
"Tell me what you think, Perceptor. I want to hear your honest opinion."
"About what?"
"About me leading the Autobots."
Perceptor didn't like how this was going. Meeting Prowl's icy blue optics, he tried to make himself sound unperturbed.
"You may not possess Prime's wisdom and leadership skills, but that doesn't mean you're an unqualified military strategist. The Autobots need someone to look up to when Prime is absent. We need a leader and you're the best option among us, even though I can't agree with some of your ways on certain matters."
Prowl folded his hands on the desk. "You're still mad at me."
Perceptor's silence confirmed the tactician's assumption. Prowl was well aware of the animosity from the sniper, and his logic processing center told him that the mech would not like any bit of the things he planned to say next.
"I'm sorry for what happened," Prowl hesitated. He was rather clumsy at offering condolences－expressing emotions was never his forte. He paused for a moment, choosing the right words. "To Moonracer and... you know what I mean. I would never approve of the operation if I knew the outcome."
The mere mention of her name snapped something inside Perceptor. A tint of malice was visible in the sniper's piercing optics.
"You gave that order, Prowl, and I obeyed you. That was the greatest mistake I've ever made."
Prowl was a little surprised by his fury. The hatred was far more intense than he had assumed. "As a matter of fact, none of us could have predicted this. Blaming everything on me or yourself won't help the situation. Wheeljack had come to me and mentioned the problem, and after a thorough evaluation we agreed that it's time to forgo this operation."
"You have to be more specific. What do you mean by 'forgo this operation'?"
"This project has caused a considerable amount of stress and negative impact on you, and it's starting to inflict serious damage on your mental condition. If you can't handle the pressure any further, you can always cancel this operation."
A long, uncomfortable silence fell in the room. Prowl waited for his answer, but all he got was a cold glare. The office suddenly seemed too small under the suffocating atmosphere. When Perceptor spoke, his voice was like ice.
"So now you're giving me permission to neutralize her."
Prowl didn't falter, neither did he flinch under Perceptor's accusing stare.
"You're a scientist, Perceptor. You know what's good for her, and you care for her. I'm sure you'll make the most adequate choice according to your professional judgment."
"How dare you say something like that."
For an instant, Prowl thought he had seen a murderous glint flash across those asymmetric blue lens. He had been pushing his luck since they started this conversation, and now he had crossed the line and enraged the overstressed sniper. Nevertheless, Prowl had no intention to stop there.
"I understand how you feel, Perceptor. It must be very hard for you to go through these unpleasant events," Prowl continued, his expression calm and all businesslike. "I'm not asking you to take all the burden and responsibility. It's not fair to you. Like I said, you can decide whether to quit or keep going. You can blame everything on me if that could make you feel better－"
"That's convenient, isn't it?" Perceptor retorted, narrowing his gaze on the tactician's emotionless faceplate. "You know I won't stop this operation until we find a solution to our current dilemma, and you're saying all these pretty words to make sure I won't go insane and become a liability. I'm no fool, Prowl. We've gone this far, and I'm not going to let your dirty politics and pathetic conscience doom us all."
Their gazes locked. Prowl gauged the sniper's expression and tried to predict his next move. Perceptor looked tired, as if their conversation had drained his strength and dissipated his anger. This meeting is over. With a sigh, Prowl leaned forward and delivered the last question.
"Before you leave, I have to confirm something: If you think so low of me, why you keep following my orders without protest?"
"I've already told you," Perceptor replied. "The Autobots need a leader, and you're the best option at the time. After all, you know how to manipulate bots and make them sacrifice everything for the benefit of the greater good. That's the new kind of leadership we need for now."
He turned and started for the door. Prowl didn't know why, but he felt he had to say something before the mech left his office. He called out when the sniper was only two steps away from the threshold.
"I'm sorry for your loss. I really am."
Perceptor stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder. He sounded strained and defeated.
"Cybertronians are born to adapt to any kind of situation, Prowl. That's what we do."
He stepped out and the door hissed closed, leaving Prowl with his own thoughts.
She was sitting on the edge of his berth when he entered the room.
The moonlight filtered through the window brought out her delicate features, casting a long shadow on the wall behind her. A data pad was clutched in her hands. From the distraught look on her face, he knew something had gone wrong during his absence.
"I thought you were not coming back."
Perceptor leaned on the doorframe. It's happening again. Fatigue washed over him as he recalled their previous encounters.
"I promised I would be back."
"You always said that." Her tone was quiet, but he could sense an edge in her voice. "It's my fault, isn't it? Everyone is acting weird around me. You, Wheeljack… even Prowl. You're hiding something. I can feel it."
"You think too much."
"Don't treat me like a sparkling, Percy." She stood up and walked toward him. Her distress was palpable. "You're just like Wheeljack. You brought me here, and you never let me go out. I've been locked up in this room for all this time and I still have no idea what's going on! I was trying to read this data pad, and all of a sudden I couldn't recognize all these characters on the screen. Why don't you tell me the truth, Percy? I know why you did this to me. I'm sick, right? Because I'm a freak!"
"Stop it."
"No!" she yelled, optics brimming with tears. "I know there's something wrong with me. Something had happened... and I can't even remember anything!"
The data pad dropped from her loosen clutch and hit the floor with a thud. The femme fell into a nearby chair and covered her face with her hands, her slender shoulders shaking as she wept.
"I'm sorry," she said, the pain and sorrow tangible in her broken sobs. "I... I don't know what I'm doing anymore. Primus, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."
He didn't want to hear it. It had happened too many times, and he was sick of her apologies. Without warning, Perceptor yanked the tearful femme up from the chair and threw her on the berth. She yelped in surprise, every protesting word she was about to utter was smothered by a bruising kiss when he dipped his head and covered her mouth with his own.
He kissed her brutally, his glossa invaded her mouth without mercy. The femme put both hands on his chasis as if trying to push him away, but he ignored her. He added more force and held her there, trapping her trembling frame between the narrow space formed by the berth and his body.
She had stopped fighting him. Her small hands reached up and wrapped around his back, dragging him closer. She kissed him back fervently, pressing her body into his as if they were one. He moved to her neck and bit down on one of the sensitive cables, eliciting a moan from her lips.
You're deceiving yourself. She's not real.
With a guttural growl, he pushed the thought from his mind and kissed her harder. The petite body shuddered beneath his bulkier frame, her long fingers clutched at his shoulder plates for dear life. He drank in her sweet taste as his hands roamed her enticing figure. The luring curves, the intoxicating warmth radiating from the protoform beneath her armor, and the vibration of metallic parts working underneath her chest plate...
Realization crashed down on him at that moment.
He reeled back and recoiled from her submissive form as if he had been electrified. Mustering all his strength and resolution, Perceptor jerked away from the femme and left the berth. He staggered several steps backwards until his back hit the wall. The femme sat up and stared at him in confusion, startled by his sudden retreat. She was still a little breathless, her body flushed with arousal.
"Come here, Percy," she begged, beckoning him with a soothing voice. "It's okay. Trust me, everything will be okay."
Perceptor clenched his fists and forced himself to look away. He wanted to believe everything she said and let her loving embrace comfort him, but he couldn't. She's not real, he reminded himself. She's not real.
The room suddenly became quiet. Perceptor turned his head toward the femme's direction. She was still there, sitting on the berth and reaching out a beseeching hand, but she wasn't moving. There was no light in her optics. Her pose was rigid, the expression on her face looked blank and distant. She became immobile, a beautiful statue frozen in time.
He walked to the berth and carefully laid her down, adjusting the position of her limbs until she was lying on her side. He lay down beside her, his right hand gently caressed her helm and arms. Her body was still warm, the paintjob felt smooth under his fingertips. His palm reached the place where a spark should be hidden underneath the protective armor. He sensed a low hum coming from the battery inside her chest cavity. There was no spark pulse.
Prowl said he was sorry for what had happened to Moonracer. It has nothing to do with Moonracer right now. Not anymore. His spark twitched painfully when the thought hit him.
Moonracer is not here. She's already dead.
Memories came flooding back like a tidal wave.
He remembered the first time he saw Moonracer cry. He found her crying alone in the corner of his lab when he headed back to retrieve the notes he had forgotten on the table. That Powerglide had left her for a human girl, and she didn't want to see anyone or face any probing question during that moment. He brought her an energon cube and kept her company while the femme cried her spark out. He didn't know how to comfort a femme, so he remained silent and patted her back awkwardly while she rested her head on his shoulder and soaked his armor plates with glistening tears.
The next morning, she brought some energon for him when he was working with Wheeljack in the lab. She looked embarrassed, apologizing for all the trouble she had caused yesterday. She asked if she could stay there and watch them work, and he saw no reason to refuse her. She was curious about the experiments they were doing, and he was happy to explain everything for her whenever she asked a question. She was a fast learner. It was pleasant to chat with her.
Time passed. Moonracer visited the lab more often, her optimistic attitude always brought smiles to the overworked scientists' faceplates. Wheeljack must've sensed the budding love between his friend and the pretty sharpshooter. He would excuse himself and leave the two Autobots alone whenever the lovely femme came to the lab.
Then it happened.
They were standing over the table, correcting the errors on a massive astronomical chart. She checked the numbers and relayed the data to him while he examined the information displayed on his tablet and marked the right numbers on the chart. Their fingers touched when she tried to point out a wrong number, and the sensation startled them both. He watched their hands, then he looked up until he saw those alluring blue optics. She leaned closer, and their lips met.
He remembered the wonderful feel of her heated body pressing against him after their first interface. Her touch was tender, and the loving smile she gave him nearly melted his spark. Maybe he had fallen in love with her a long time ago. She came into his life, and she wanted him. That was the thing that mattered the most.
They were still together when he joined the Wreckers. Although Moonracer didn't like the idea of her beloved scientist fighting in the frontline with a bunch of hardcore brutes, she respected his decision and supported him wholeheartedly. They had been through thick and thin over the vorns, and their love only grew stronger. He was planning to ask Moonracer to bond with him. He was deeply in love with the femme, and he wanted no one but her to be his sparkmate.
Perceptor never had the chance to ask her. When the Wreckers were sent to Altihex for a sabotage mission, the Autobots in Iacon got a transmission from a group of neutral Cybertronians who were in need of help near Kalis. According to the Neutrals, some Decepticon drones had been harassing the borders. Several Neutrals were killed and many of them injured. The Neutrals agreed to hand over half of their energon rations in exchange for Iacon's medical help. After a brief negotiation, the Autobots dispatched a small rescue team to aid the Neutrals. Prowl thought the team could use a sharpshooter, so he added Moonracer's name on the list.
The tactician underestimated the scale of the skirmish. When the Autobots arrived to Kalis, they found themselves surrounded by hundreds of energon-thirsty Decepticon soldiers instead of a small pack of drones. The whole rescue operation became a macabre nightmare. When the Wreckers received the SOS message and rushed to the given coordinates, it was already too late.
The Autobots were well trained warriors, but they were no rivals to a whole Decepticon army. Perceptor couldn't believe Prowl had sent his lover to this horrible place. Panic-stricken, he searched everywhere for Moonracer. He took out six Decepticons on the field, each of them died instantly from receiving a bullet in the head. After a thorough search around the area, he finally found her amid the burned metal scraps. His spark sank when he took in her battered form.
She was lying on her back, her upper torso badly burned and peppered with bullet holes. Several pieces of her green armor plates were missing, exposing the frayed innards and splintered circuits. She was losing a great amount of energon, but nothing was more horrifying than that gaping hole in her chest.
Trembling, he gathered her fragile body in his arms, holding her close to his chasis. The sounds of gunfire and bomb explosions were a distant roar. The Decepticons were about to leave when the Wreckers joined the battle－they had gotten the energon they wanted, and they had killed enough bots to satisfy their desires. It was time to retreat.
Moonracer grabbed his forearm tightly, almost denting the singed armor. Her life was fading away, and she was using all her remaining strength to hold on to him. The damn 'Cons had blasted a good part of her chest plate off and destroyed almost everything underneath the protective armor, leaving a fatal wound that would never heal. He could see the twisted metal piece which was once part of her spark case. Between the gaps of the distorted casing, a faint bluish glow wavered and flickered a few times, the pulse of her spark became weaker and weaker. Her spark was damaged beyond repair. She would suffer a slow, excruciating death, and he couldn't save her.
Please, Percy. He remembered the panic in her optics. I can't... It hurt so much. I don't want to die, Percy. I don't want to die.
He leaned down until their foreheads touched. Her breathing was shallow, each broken breath was accompanied by a horrendous gurgling sound of leaking energon. The glowing pink fluid gushing from her wounds had formed a small pool around them.
She was scared. He wished he could ease her pain and make her feel better, but he couldn't. Her injuries were too severe, and her spark was failing. He tightened his grip on her; her energon smudged all over his frame in a gruesome pattern, like some kind of morbid mystic art. He bent down and kissed her on the lips, his spark throbbed with pain when she slowly raised one hand to his face, touching his jaw and returning the gesture. The taste of her lips was so sweet yet so bitter.
Then he pulled a pistol from the subspace and shot her in the chest.
Perceptor would never forget the day Moonracer's spark extinguished right in front of him after he pulled the trigger. The sound of gunshot echoed in the air, haunting his audio receptors and shattering his soul. The sticky sensation of her warm energon on his fingers sickened him. He remembered seeing that shocking blue light flashed across her optics before it vanished, those once so beautiful blue lens dimmed to a pair of hollow gray spectacles. The lifeless form lying in his arms felt so light and unreal.
I don't want to die, Percy.
He retrieved her memory chip when the mint green paintjob lost its original glossy hue and faded into a sick gray color. It was simple: Cut open the helm, severe the complicated wires and circuits attached to the delicate device, pull out the small rectangle memory chip from the skull, and seal it in a container to ensure the integrity of the chip. He had done it several times before when the Autobots needed to extract useful information from dead Decepticon spies. A rational voice told him it was okay to do it now because she was already gone and wouldn't feel a thing during the process, but he still couldn't shake off the feeling that he was dissecting the femme he loved like she was merely a piece of experimental object.
The Autobots in Iacon held a funeral to mourn their lost friends. After the ceremony, the bodies were sent to the central furnace. All those gray metal frames would be melted down and forged into new parts in case someone in the med bay needed extra gears or patching plates.
Perceptor had been keeping Moonracer's memory chip inside his subspace compartment all the time. When Cybertronians lost their loved ones, all they had were the memories. What he didn't know was that he couldn't even keep this precious memory undefiled.
Prime was stuck in a serious case of stasis-lock ever since he received that nearly fatal blow from Megatron. The Decepticon leader took the Matrix from Prime's chest cavity by force, leaving a severely damaged and beaten up bot to his enemies. Without Prime and the Matrix, the Autobots lost their direction. They had no idea what to do. Prime had been leading them to fight this war for as long as they could remember, and now they had neither a competent leader nor the guide of the Matrix. The Autobots had a strong will, but they were fighting a losing battle.
Then Prowl came up with a bold idea.
If they couldn't bring Prime out of the coma, they could transfer Prime's memory chip to another frame. The Autobots had invented a new kind of battery; it could generate a great amount of energy which was almost similar to the energy coming from a beating spark. Prime's spark was too weak to endure the complicated transfer surgery, but his memory chip was in good condition. It was the only way to revive their true leader.
The idea was tempting, but there was a problem. If any accident happened during the process, there would be no way to bring their Prime back to life. The risk was too high. The Autobots needed to perform a test on a prototype first, and Moonracer's chip happened to be the most intact one for this experiment.
For the greater good, Prowl had said. He gave Perceptor five joors to contemplate this plan. You can help us win this war. That's what she wanted, Perceptor. She would do the same for us.
So he obliged.
Wheeljack built a frame for this particular experiment. The operation was highly classified. Most of the bots were kept in the dark except some high-ranking officers and scientists. The frame was a perfect replica of their best sharpshooter. The pastel colored armor plates, the feminine curves and the delicate facial features... It looked just like her.
It's only a drone. He tried to convince himself, but when he inserted the chip into her head and activated the system, he was lost in those amorous blue optics staring back at him. For a brief moment, he almost fell for the illusion that she was never gone. He wished everything happened in Kalis was just a nightmare.
Under the Autobots' watchful optics, the mint green femme blinked several times before she slowly lifted her body from the examination table. She recognized the scientist right away and happily threw her arms around his neck. She called his name, her melodious voice full of joy. Over the femme's helm, he spotted Wheeljack's flashing fins. She's endearing, ain't she? The engineer gestured Perceptor to touch the femme, his optics grinning with excitement.
Perceptor tentatively returned the embrace. The mint green metal plates felt warm and alive under his touch.
At first everything was going as planned. The femme had no memory of the failed rescue mission in Kalis, which made the task easier. They monitored her condition closely, observed her behavior and made sure the memory chip transfer was working fine. Prowl let the femme stay in Perceptor's quarters since Moonracer had been living there before she died. Perceptor didn't know what to make of the femme's presence. She had Moonracer's looks and memory, and the way she talked and acted was no different from the sharpshooter he had once loved dearly. But she had no spark.
The success was short-lived. The battery was able to keep her body functional, but the energy it produced couldn't cope with the mass flow of information streaming through her CPU. She started to have meltdowns. Her memories were mixed up, and she was gradually losing her sanity. At one point, she totally lost it and attacked Wheeljack when they were examining her neural network. They had no other choice but to shut her system down.
Help me, Percy. She was strapped down to the table, writhing and screaming in agony. Please, don't do this to me. I don't want to die, Percy. I don't want to die.
He felt like a monster when he pried her chest plate open and disconnected the battery. Her limbs went limp, the blue light in her optics sniffed out like a dying flame. He told himself that the frame lying on his table was only a battery-driven drone, but he knew he had done it again. She was more than a drone, and he had killed her. Just like how he ended Moonracer's life amid the rubble in Kalis.
Prowl insisted they continue the operation. Judging from the data figures Wheeljack had presented him, the tactician believed there was a sixty-five percent chance of overcoming those "technical glitches." He mentioned Prime's physical condition, the future of the Autobots, and how much this experiment meant to the bots who had given their lives for this meaningless war.
Therefore, they reconnected the battery and started over again.
To Perceptor, the whole operation had become an agonizing torture. They had fixed some problems, but the result wasn't perfect enough. Sometimes she was doing fine, sometimes she wasn't. From time to time, a short circuit would occur and put her in a temporary stasis-lock. She would suddenly stop moving, like she was frozen and trapped in a particular time. He hated seeing her like that. The femme's rigid form was a cruel reminder of how fake and lifeless she was.
It's only an empty shell, he reminded himself once more. He wanted to believe that the femme living in his quarters was merely a subject in an experiment. An exquisite marionette sharing his dead lover's appearances and fragments of her past and memories. She's not real.
The femme lying next to him stirred, bringing him back to reality. His hand paused in midair, hovering above her frame like a protective shield. Slowly, her optic sensors flickered to life, the cerulean glow looked mesmerizing in the darkened room. She blinked a few times as if trying to figure out what was going on, then she saw him. A small smile danced across her lips.
"Hey, Percy. Welcome back."
He shut his optics. He already knew what would happen afterwards. Every time her system rebooted, she would lose all the previous short-term memories. He could be arguing with her or making love to her before she entered that temporary stasis-lock, and she wouldn't remember anything when she woke up. It was like a cruel joke of malfunctioned auto-refresh mechanism. Sometimes she would repeat the same dialogue over and over again like a broken record because of the memory loss.
A delicate finger lightly touched his right cheek and traced over his monocle. She was smiling at him, a mischievous gleam in those beautiful sky blue optics.
"You look weird with that thing. But don't worry, I think you're still very handsome. Happy?"
Perceptor's gaze lingered on her lovely face for a while. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. The femme curled up against him, burying her face in his chasis. She slipped a hand into his palm and held him firmly.
For a long time they lay there in silence. The moonlight illuminated their intertwined fingers.
"I love you," her voice was soft, almost inaudible. Like a whisper in the wind. "I don't know why, but I think I really love you. Am I crazy? I think I'm losing my mind... But I don't care, because I love you. I love you so much, Percy. I will always love you."
Perceptor thought of Moonracer and her innocent smile. I love you, Percy. I love you so much. Her words were like a mantra, tearing at his wound and healing his soul at the same time. He leaned down and landed a chaste kiss on the top of her helm.
"I know."
－END－
Author's Note: This is my first Transformers fanfic. And since I ship Perceptor/Moonracer like crazy, I just had to write something for them first. It's been raining non-stop for days, so this story is kind of depressing. I'll try to write something happier next time, I promise.
Please bear with my crappy grammar. English isn't my native language, I nearly ate my dictionary while writing this one-shot. Feel free to share your thoughts by leaving a review. Constructive criticism is welcomed. :]