He was in a room. He knew the room and he had been here several times. Turning around he discovered what he knew had to be here: a bed. On the bed lay a woman. Her eyes were closed, her skin too pale, a respirator tube running down her throat. Machines were lined up around the bed. He walked closer. The woman's chest rose and fell almost laboriously. She was clad in a hospital gown. He regarded her. Blonde, graying hair, sun-tanned face with a few wrinkles, an almost frail looking body.
He knew her.
An alarm went off.
The monitors showed that her heart continued to beat, drawing on the last particles of oxygen left in her blood, then faltered as well, then went into arrest.
A second alarm followed the first.
He watched the nurses with the crash cart arrive, closely followed by a blond doctor he knew. The doctor stopped, then told the nurses not to revive their patient. They looked at him, then only nodded. The doctor's eyes met his, the expression in them saying more than any words. I'm sorry......
He had dreamed again.
The same dream
Just like the last three days.
Spike looked down at his shaking hands and willed his
muscle cables to relax, but somehow he tensed even more than before. Energon
pumped through artificial veins and arteries, coursing along nerve endings
and hitting his spark with the intensity of his experienced nightmare.
He shivered as if cold, though cold or warmth was not something a Protogen
body felt as acutely as a human body did.
Human.
He swallowed. That was what the dream had been all about.
Him being human again, having a family, living happily with his wife on
Earth; not trapped inside a metal shell, his mind beating against confines
and struggling to tear down imaginary walls that kept him here. Once, such
a long time ago, he had been human; he had been born and raised a human
-- and had been torn first a cyborg and then a robot.
Spike shivered again.
Why was all of this coming back to him now of all times?
He had thought he had accepted what he was, what he had been, and had let
the human past die with his human name. He had not had any nightmares since
the transfer to the Protogen spark. True, there had been episodes of feeling
unwell, of thinking all of this was just a bad dream, but he had managed,
he had fought.
"Why?" he asked the night all around him.
Spike was no longer on Cybertron and he had not returned
to Earth. Earth was more or less off limits for everyone and Spike didn't
really feel drawn to his former home planet. So he had taken the doorway
and come to Arry from where he had transferred to Ariva, the planet they
had only recently and quite accidentally discovered. It was the planet
where he and his Transwarp team had crashed down and where they had met
the Transorganic creatures, the so-called gargoyles.
A whisper of something gliding through the silent air
alerted him to another presence. Moon light glinted off metal wings and
the barely audible hissing sound of them sliding shut. Spike turned and
discovered the by now well-known form of Tikemi. The female gargoyle nodded
a greeting at him. She was a full Transorganic and something of a figure
of authority among the clans. Spike had learned quite a lot about the Transorganics''
society in the last days, mainly that the clans, though living independently,
had a kind of rulership council that went beyond mere clan membership.
Out of each clan a representative was chosen and the council met for decide
on matters concerning their kind, not just a family. Tikemi was such a
council member, but she also functioned as a counselor. Her word held power,
but she was no leader.
"I thought I'd find you here. Telem saw you fly by. Again."
She settled into a half-crouch.
Spike gave Tikemi a humorless smile. "It was a nice night."
"It wasn't two days ago and you still flew this way and
stayed till sunrise."
Quite straight-forward, he thought wryly. Two nights
ago there had been quite a thunderstorm, typical of this time of the year
one of the Transorganics had told him, and he had sat through the beating
of the rain and the thunder rolling through the sky. It had been nice to
let the water pound his metal skin.
"Maybe," he now answered.
"You are troubled. I can feel it. I felt it the moment
you so suddenly arrived. None of the teams who have stayed with us mentioned
your return. I gathered that researching planets like ours was not your
'job description'. You explore them as a point team, right?"
Spike nodded. "Or we accidentally crash down on them
and try to find out way home."
She smiled as well. "What accident brought you here this
time?"
Spike shook his head, looking over the dark plains below
him. "No accident. Just the need to ...get away."
"What from?"
"Myself," he answered truthfully.
Tikemi tilted her head. "Too bad you took yourself with
you on this trip, right?"
The Protogen leader smiled wryly. "It's hard not to."
"When fleeing from yourself you have to know where to
run, Spike."
"True, but sometimes I catch up with myself."
"Either run faster or face yourself."
"What if I can't?" he asked calmly.
"The accept whatever it is that caused the flight in
the first place," the Transorganic answered simply.
"Not that easy."
She regarded him thoughtfully. "What part of yourself
do you try to flee from?"
Spike inhaled deeply. "My past," he finally said.
"All of it or just one part?"
He thought about it. What part was it really? His human
existence? The cyborg part? Everything? Probably something in between.
"I'm not sure," Spike answered after a while.
"Then how do you know what to run from?" Tikemi asked.
He smiled weakly. "I think that's the whole problem,
Tikemi."
"I see. Have you told your friends?"
"I don't think they understand or can understand. It's
nothing they could ever experience." As she gave him a questioning look
he added, "I'm kinda like you and your kind."
"That which you call 'Transorganic'?"
"In a way. You see, I was completely organic once, a
human."
"Like Jefferson Winters?"
Spike nodded.
"Why did you become what you are?"
"I was the victim of a war. I was severely hurt in an
attack and my body was poisoned. I was dying and parts of me were replaced
with metal. In the end I was transferred into this body, something we call
Protogen." Spike's voice grew softer by the minute. "It was never a problem
because it happened gradually and because it's not like a transfer into
a robot shell, but now.... I dream."
"Of being human?"
"Yes."
Tikemi settled down some more, wings twitching a bit.
"We all dream."
"But... you were born this way."
"No, we were born organic. We were changed later and
we remember." Tikemi shrugged. "We dream." Her dark eyes held his light
blue optics. "So do you."
"Yes." Spike rubbed his forehead. "And it's getting worse.
I survive so many... I survived my wife, my son will die one day, my grandchildren....
well, one at least. I'm already a great-grandfather, but I no longer feel
attached to them. I'm neither Cybertronian nor human."
"You are Protogen. You are both."
"Yes and no. Body and mind are two different things.
How can I be human if my body is metal?"
Tikemi pursed her lips. "What is the definition of human
or humanity?"
Spike faltered. "I....A human is an organic being born
on Earth."
"You were born on Earth. You were organic at the time."
He shook his head. "I'm no longer human."
"But humanity... is it a definition by body or mind?"
He stopped again. To be honest, Spike had no idea. Was
he human or was he a robot? Protogen bodies were not completely robotic
and much more sensitive to a lot of things. He felt better and much more
like the 'old' Spike, the one who had been called Adam Witwicky as well,
than when his father had agreed to transfer his teenage son's mind into
a Frankenstein-like Autobot shell. Autobot Spike. It has been a horror
trip. Being Protogen had been a holiday in comparison.
"I don't know," he finally whispered.
"You dream of being human, when you might be human still.
We dream of being normal when all we can be is what we are. Spike, you
evolved, you grew. We were evolved and grown. We never had a choice," the
Transorganic being now said calmly. "You could have said no to the cyber-parts
or to the transfer. We had to suffer through the changes."
He nodded. That was true. He had accepted the changes.
He remembered Carly and how she had asked him never to give up, never to
just give in to despair. He missed her.
"She was part of you and your life, and always will be,"
Tikemi answered philosophically as he voiced it out loud. "Each part of
your life will demand new challenges which you have to master, and each
part will have new partners for you." There was a suggestive smile in her
voice.
Spike turned his head and shot her a surprised look.
Tikemi just smiled and didn't explain further. Finally she spread her wings.
"Have a nice watch, my friend," she said, then pushed
herself off and sailed toward the dark plains.
Spike watched her, mixed emotions fighting inside him.
On the horizon the first touches of a sunrise cold be seen.
* * *
Backdraft stepped out of the shuttle and looked around,
the familiarity of the landscape launching memories of when the Axis had
crashed on this planet. It had been bad then, but in the end a lot had
been accomplished and new allies had been won. Now a new Transwarp ship,
the Axis II, was waiting for a launch date and the crew was training. Backdraft
wanted to be among those on board, as did Domino and Volta, and she knew
Spike was burning to captain the new Transwarp vessel once more. But lately
-- as in the last week or two -- he had grown distant and had let training
pass by as if it was nothing that interested him any more. Backdraft knew
something was wrong when he had suddenly decided to leave Cybertron for
some off time. When Spike hadn't returned for a week, she had gone after
him. Domino and Volta were just as worried, but Backdraft was the one with
the closest connection to their leader and she was also his second-in-command.
"Greetings, Backdraft," a voice called.
She turned and smiled at Kei'lein, a young gargoyle they
had met when they had crashed. "Greetings, Kei'lein."
"You have come to see Spike?"
She smiled, slightly surprised. They knew? Well, not
surprising if Spike had spent the last week here. The Transorganics were
quite fast on the uptake and they were also rather straight-forward.
"Yes. Is he here?"
"He has been for days. Tikemi talked to him."
"And?"
Kei'lein smiled. "You ask him yourself."
Backdraft mirrored his smile. "I will when I find him."
Kei'lein gestured toward the vast expanse of blackish
rock beneath where the shuttle had touched down. "He is usually somewhere
down there."
"Oh, fun," she muttered.
"Do you want me to call Tikemi and ask her for help?"
"No, don't worry. I'll find my elusive commander."
Kei'lein grinned, then nodded. "Good hunting."
Backdraft transformed and launched herself toward the
tall spires of sharp, glass-like rocks.
* * *
Spike played with a piece of black rock. It was incredibly
sharp, very breakable, but still rock. It shattered as easily as glass,
but it you accidentally fell on the stuff, it would slide into your skin
and injure you severely. He had landed in a wide area, a kind of clearing,
and settled down on one of the gray stone blocks that were scattered among
the black glass. His mind was reeling with everything that was on it. He
tried to come to grips with his dreams and what they meant. Was he going
crazy now? Was everything finally catching up with him? If yes... why now?
Something flew over him, turned a tight circle and landed.
Spike stared at Backdraft in surprise. She smiled at him in return.
"So there you are."
"What are you doing here?" Spike blurted.
"I'd say vacation, but I guess you wouldn't believe me,
so I'll stay with the obvious: looking for our elusive leader." Backdraft
walked closer and inspected him. "Our tired looking, elusive leader. Spike,
what's wrong?"
He shook his head. "Nothing."
Backdraft managed to give the impression of rolling her
optics, then gave him a dark look. "I've known you for a while now, Spike.
I know your busy little mind is even more busy now because otherwise you'd
be giving us hell in flight training and creating impossible schedules
or spending days after days in dry dock." Her optics narrowed. "Now you
suddenly took off after eluding me and about everyone else for days, missing
training, giving responsibility to your second – who is currently demanding
to know why – and fleeing to a remote planet."
"I didn't flee," he protested weakly.
"Uh-huh." Backdraft sat down and glanced at the piece
of black glass rock he was turning over and over in his fingers. "Spike?"
Spike refused to meet her optics. "Hm?"
"Do you know what day is tomorrow?"
He blinked. "Ahm...." Spike stared at the black ground.
"I.... Why do you want to know?"
"What day is tomorrow?" Backdraft asked again.
Spike dimmed his optics and suddenly he knew what was
going on within him, he knew what the key had been. "Oh, gods......" he
whispered.
Backdraft carefully touched his arm. "Carly died on exactly
this day tomorrow, thirty years ago, right?"
He nodded, feeling a shudder course through him.
"And you feel like you died as well."
Spike's head came up sharply and he stared at her. Backdraft
smiled faintly. "How... what makes you think....?" he stuttered.
"I have optics. I can see. You have suffered from your
wife's death ever since, but lately it has become a burden. Why? You have
survived and you have followed her last wish, never giving up. You said
good-bye, Spike."
He shook his head. "No, not really. And I never asked."
Backdraft gave him a quizzical look. "Asked? Asked what?"
Spike turned away, aware that he had said something he
had only thought about for many years. Now it was most prominent on his
mind once more. Carly had died and with her, part of his life as Adam Witwicky
had perished as well, the rest following later. He had regretted his vow
to continue fighting sometimes, but never really badly enough to break
the oath he had given his wife. He would live.
Alone?
Spike hesitated, aware of the slender fingers around
his forearm. He knew there had been only one love, Carly, in his life,
but now.... Was he able to accept what he was feeling? His mind apparently
didn't because it was rebelling inside, nightmares threatening his sanity.
He was Protogen, he was partially inorganic, but he was also human, wasn't
he? And could he ever feel more than friendship to a life form so different
from him?
What was he feeling now?
Was he feeling it or was it some part of the spark inside
him?
Spike continued staring at the black stone, mind awhirl.
He couldn't decide! Whatever he did, part of him would die! If he clung
to his old life, his dead wife, his human past, he would one day go insane.
If he followed his emotions, his feeling for.... her... he'd die as well.
He would turn his back on his humanity.....
"Spike?" The soft voice intruded into his thoughts.
He looked into Backdraft's softly glowing optics and
wished she wouldn't be here. She was what he was running from – Backdraft
and the part of him that was drawn to her.
"Nothing will ever change," she said calmly. "You don't
have to substitute one for the other. You can have all you want without
making this sacrifice."
He shook his head. "You don't understand....."
"I think I do because I'm part of it."
Spike swallowed hard, a completely human reaction he
had never been able to drop. "Listen...."
Backdraft raised one hand to stop him. "No, you listen.
Listen to your heart and your mind. They tell you everything, not the program
if your spark."
He bit his lower lip and tried to find the right words,
failing. Finally he dimmed his optics again. "You don't understand, Backdraft.
I can't be both. I have to be one."
"Who says so? Is there a rule?"
"I'm no longer human!"
"Humanity is a state of mind, not a state of body, Spike.
You are what you have always been, what you believe in."
"And what if I don't believe in anything anymore?"
"Is that the truth?"
He evaded her steady gaze. "I can't be both," he repeated.
"Why?"
"Because one part of me, the human one, will always love
Carly. The other one, the Protogen....." He stopped, glad he couldn't blush.
"Forget it."
Backdraft gently squeezed his arm. "If you were still
human, could you handle it? Could you handle falling in love with another
woman? Would you accept it?"
Spike trembled slightly. If he were still human.... could
he love again? The answer was simple: yes.
As if reading it in his face, Backdraft added, "So what
is different now?"
Spike rose abruptly and started to pace. "I don't know!"
he exclaimed. "I really don't know! Backdraft... I can't tell you what
is wrong, please! I.... I have to do this on my own!"
Backdraft rose as well and stepped into his way. "No,"
she contradicted. "You don't have to and you can't. Let me help."
But you are the reason! part of Spike's mind cried helplessly.
He simply stared at her, as helpless as he felt, and Backdraft smiled slightly.
"How can you understand?" he wanted to know.
"You mean because it concerns your human past?" When
he nodded, Backdraft shrugged, grinning, "Let yourself be surprised."
Silence stretched between them.
"I can help," was all Backdraft finally said.
"I know," he replied, voice rough.
"Let me? Please?"
"I don't think it'll work," he managed.
"How do you know since you never tried?"
Spike opened his mouth, then closed it again. "What if
it won't work?" he finally asked.
"Then we know. Then it shouldn't have been." Backdraft
held out her hand, slightly tilting her head in a silent question.
Spike hesitated, then took it and felt her fingers curl
around his.
"We can do this together," Backdraft said. "I know we
can."
"Thank you," he whispered.
Backdraft squeezed his hand again. "I have to thank you
for a lot more. Come on. Let's go back."
Tikemi smiled and turned, spreading her wings. She flew
back to her clan's hold.