Past
Present
Lyrics to Casting Crowns' Slow Fade
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Be careful little eyes what you see
It's the second glance that ties your hands as darkness pulls the strings
Be careful little feet where you go
For it's the little feet behind you that are sure to follow
Nightshade stood in the doorway, watching her carrier submit to a larger, silver mech, her purple optics wide and scared. Nighthawk's dark red optics found her daughter's face in the dim light flooding in from the hall and she bared white fangs as she arched up into the warlord.
"This will be you someday, child..." She laid on her belly while Megatron, who she had been told was her sire, grunted and groaned over her. "You'll be just like Mommy."
Nightshade shook her helm at the sounds and she tried to not let the memory sear forever into her processor. "Mama!" She sobbed and feigned pain, holding out her servos to be lifted.
Nighthawk did something strange then. She growled and swiped her claws at her daughter, something she never did...
Megatron came for her later that week, guiding her onto his berth as he rubbed her wings and her face in a way that Nightshade didn't like. She cried softly, kicked at him, and bit his claws, but his touches continued to go south, deeper and deeper until...
She screamed and Energon glowed in the dark on the sheets and on her sire's claws. He would take to calling her for more than just touching. Soon she would know what fragging was all about.
Hey, Nightshade thought as she laid on her belly, Megatron's large servo cupping her aft and the other prying open her virgin valve. I am just like Mommy.
It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away
People never crumble in a day
It's a slow fade, it's a slow fade
Nightshade brought her claws to her audios, trying to block out the screams of a little femme from her past. Her optics dimmed and she wanted to lay down on the earth and never move again in fear her demons would sniff her out, but Strongarm was back again, and Nightshade went into medic mode.
Oh, how she longed to go back onto the field, but the sight of Decepticons made her sick, and she had promised her carrier...
"Nightshade," Strongarm began. Nightshade almost didn't hear her, but at the last moment she snapped to life. "Bumblebee and I are going out on patrol."
"Patrol, meaning a frag-night. Don't worry. I'll cover for you to keep Sideswipe off your tailpipe."
She smiled a little, then stopped. "You look-"
"Fine," Nightshade finished. "I look fine." She reached out and touched the femme's slightly-round belly. "Take it easy on the patrols, mm? And tell Bumblebee to act like a mech in the berth and not a train wreck."
Strongarm nodded and she looked down at her belly, smiling softly as she hugged herself. "Thank you, Nightshade."
"Mm..." She turned away, trying not to let anyone in on her weaknesses and she willed her wings to stand erect, but allowed them to droop when Strongarm left. She forced tears out of her optics with the heels of her servos and she took a deep breath.
Be careful little ears what you hear
When flattery leads to compromise, the end is always near
Be careful little lips what you say
For empty words and promises lead broken hearts astray
She had tried to tell her carrier what had happened, but Nighthawk wouldn't listen, wouldn't soothe her hurt.
"You're a full-grown femme now. Act like it."
Nightshade cried and tried to hug her servo for support, but Nighthawk stood up and threw a glare back at her. "Grow up already! What's wrong with you? Can't you understand that your sire just loves you a little too much?"
She blinked at her, flopped over on her belly and her optics wide and tearful, her bottom lip wobbling. "Ma-"
The door slammed behind her carrier.
"-ma..." Nightshade sobbed and pushed herself away, hiding under her carrier's pillow until it was lifted from her body and slender, silver claws touched her face and helm, lifting her face.
"Pretty femme," the young Seeker purred and he stroked her helm. She whimpered and buried herself into the sheets, tears rolling down her face hot and fast. "Don't cry. You're okay now. Promise..." He extended his pinky digit. "I promise that you are okay."
She took his pinky and looked up at him. He sat with her. He was just a few hundred years older than him, swept away from his carrier and brothers with his sire (who had passed from starvation days before) just before the Decepticons left Cybertron. He petted her wings and helm as if she would break if too much pressure was applied.
She liked him.
It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away
People never crumble in a day
Nightshade huffed and shoved the memory away as if it had a foul odor. "Promises," she muttered and she wiggled her digits, glaring at her pinky. Years ago, she considered cutting it off, but she held back. Femmes missing right pinkies tended to draw attention, and that's not what she needed right now, not after...
She shuddered the thought away and she looked down at her servos again, touching her pinky and curling it around an imaginary silver claw, a hot blush creeping across her face and then...
"Where are Bumblebee and Strongarm going?"
Sideswipe.
Her faceplates cooled and she turned to see him. "For a long, educational drive. Why? Did you want to go with? I'm sure Bumblebee and Strongarm can come back and pick you up so you can have talks about-"
"I'm good! Forget I asked." He left her MedTent and went instead to interrogate Russel, little innocent Russel who reminded Nightshade of Firefall...
"No, I'm not thinking about that right now..."
But she couldn't help it.
The journey from your mind to your hands
Is shorter than you're thinking
Be careful if you think you stand
You just might be sinking
Starscream panted in her face. They had gotten closer after their first meeting, and he came to her rescue when Nemesis became her planned mate. Nemesis was the last thing on her processor, and her spark hummed in time with the Seeker mech above her.
He smiled down at her and got up, cleaning her up so Nemesis wouldn't know what had happened. He pulled her to her pedes and he kissed her then, and she leaned into his arms for just a few more moments before he pulled back.
"I have to go." He kissed her cheek before he walked to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow night."
She smiled and nodded. When the door shut, she squealed in delight and flopped down onto the berth, purring up at the ceiling. She had just fragged for the first time with someone she loved and not some mech pretending to be her sire, and she wished she could tell her carrier, wished she had a sire she could tell, but no.
Starscream was her dirty little secret.
And she liked secrets, but hated surprises. Surprises were her undoing in the end, starting but not ending with the three little lives forming in her womb.
Starscream did come to her the next night, but instead of warming the berth after it quickly cooled without Nemesis, they stared at each other in horror at their errors, their mistakes.
Her belly.
She hugged the tiny bump as she sat down and thought about crying, but Starscream was there, touching it, her servos, her cheek to turn her face to his.
"We'll take care of them," he said, and he lifted his pinky digit.
She curled her own digit around his. They slept together, but when Nightshade woke up in the morning, Starscream had already left.
His adopted side of the berth was cold, and so was her spark.
A sparkling moved.
It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away
People never crumble in a day
Daddies never crumble in a day
Families never crumble in a day
Nightshade gripped her helm as she gasped for air. "Why, Primus? Why haunt me now?"
She didn't have an abortion. Starscream taught her all about Seeker ediquet, and they never had abortions. They loved their sparklings, loved their creators, their elders...Seekers were all about love, and an abortion wasn't about love. It was about fixing mistakes. And these Seekers, said Starscream with a proud servo on her large, bulging belly, are not mistakes.
"And then you left, didn't you?" She muttered at her pinky. He could hear Starscream's mock apology now.
I've fallen for a mech. No, I can't see you anymore. Yes, I know we have sparklings. If they're too much for you, I'll take them off your servos. In fact, I know they're too much for you. You wait for me to teach you how to feed them, how to soothe them...how long before someone hears their cries, Nightshade? How long? No one will want you when they find out what you did. Lied to your mate, your own sire...
"He is not my sire!" Nightshade threw a chemistry set towards the entrance of the tent, stopping when she saw Grimlock staring at her with wide optics.
"Okay, okay..." He held up his servos. "I'll come back later when the chemistry set stops making you upset."
"Grim..." She walked to him, but she was too late. He was already walking off. "Sorry..."
Oh be careful little eyes what see
Oh be careful little eyes what you see
For the Father up above is looking down in love
Oh be careful little eyes what you see
Nightshade sat down on her berth. There was evidence of her sparklings all around: Deadshot's blanket, Firefall's Starscream plushy, Sonicsound's pillow... She lifted the plushy as though it weighed eigth more tons than it should, and she hugged it to her chest, trying to find Firefall's scent to remind herself what he smelled like. She fell backwards onto the berth and curled around the toy, kicking her blankets off the berth and laying with her sparkling's possessions, their favorite things...
She was rudely woken up by Nemesis' drunken voice and she kicked the pillow, the blanket, and the toy into a box and shoved it under her berth, laying still and willing her wings to droop in sleepiness, but they were rigid with fear. So when Nemesis shut the door behind him rather loudly, she jumped from the berth and hugged the blankets to her chest, her optics wide. "Nemesis..." Her face crumpled and she ran to him. "I had this terrible nightmare..."
He gave her an awkward hug. He was never fond of physical touch, not like his brother. He pushed her away. "Sounds simply terrifying."
"Oh, it was," she said as she knelt on her side of the berth. He laid down, starting to drift off to sleep, but she wanted someone to talk to her, someone to fill the void... "Do you want to hear it?"
"Honestly, Nightshade...I'm gone for six years and you act like a little school girl talking to her crush. I want to sleep. Is that too hard for you to grasp?"
She flinched. But really, child, she thought in her carrier's voice, what were you expecting? Kisses? Touches? Gentle hugs and perhaps a pede rub? After you went behind his back and had a trine with some now-gay mech? Boy are you having a rough life. If you're looking for the blade to slit your throat, it's in Nemesis' back...
She smiled a little. "Good night...?"
He grunted in an angry way and rolled over. The lights dimmed completely at his command and Nightshade was left in the dark.
Nightshade stared up at the stars, swaying gently back in forth while tears pooled in her optics and ran a marathon down her cheeks to settle at her neck.
Strongarm and Bumblebee rolled back into base, but when he saw Nightshade, he told Strongarm he would catch up. Nightshade heard that, but somehow missed her approach. A constellation in the sky reminded her of someone.
"Nightshade?"
She blinked at him.
"Are you crying?"
"No." Her voice cracked and her digits immediately swept at her cheeks, her neck, rubbed her optics. "Of course not. Decepticons don't cry."
He smiled and elbowed her. "This one does."
She glared at him.
"Come on, Nightshade. Let's sit down. My legs hurt."
She snorted and guided him to a crushed antique car that Denny had mourned after Grimlock tripped over his slot machines and landed on it. Grimlock's fat aft made the perfect seat for the other Autobots. She pushed Bumblebee down on it and knelt, rubbing his legs down to search for signs of wear, stress, or breakage.
"I know you're not as tough as you seem," he sighed.
Nightshade grunted, and willed her servos to still. She found a place behind his knee strut where the wires were pinched and obviously causing pain. "I'm pretty tough."
He tapped under her chin and she looked up, peeking up at him from her position on the dirt at his pedes. He touched her cheek. She instinctively leaned into it.
"You hate fire fights. As soon as you hear guns, you're running for cover. As soon as someone's hurt, you put up this mask so no one can see what you're thinking. You're sarcastic, and just a couple moments ago, I saw you crying." He cupped her face. "I won't say I got you completely figured out, but I know that the femme I heard about from the stories of you assassinating bot after bot after bot isn't the femme I have now."
She looked down.
"And to tell you the truth, I prefer this one." He touched her chest, right over her spark. She gaped at him, and he smiled as he got up. "Thank you, Nightshade. I feel loads better."
She stared at him for a moment, then stood as he walked off to be with his mate. She walked back to her MedTent and laid down, staring at the ceiling.
...I prefer this one.
She was someone's choice, not another option, and no one told Bumblebee to say that, right? Her spark hummed and her optics watered as she rolled over and blinked at the old plushy on her desk, propped up by a pillow and swaddled in a blanket.
She dreamed of her sparklings that night, and welcomed their happy squeaks when she had shut them down for years.