Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers
Please R&R
(A revamp of the original 'Loss', the redo of the second chapter should come along soon! Enjoy!)
There was a stiff breeze blowing tonight, Axe noticed as he stood on the Citadel's highest balcony, gazing out over the twisting sands that danced and writhed like tongues of flame outside of the city, flashing silver in the moonlight that pierced the fog of space.
He sighed, dropping down slightly to lean against the railing, the stars captivating him as he heard the heavy tred of his mate enter their berth chamber. "Are you still up?" the big blue triple changer asked in surprise as he was revealed from the shadows by the casual switch of a light.
Axe hummed a confirmation, casting a small thin, flat smile over his shoulder strut, "Just stargazing."
Dai Atlas, his mate, the warrior that legends of a distant cyber planet sang of, frowned, "Axe." The tone was grave, conflicted, as if he were wary of how Axe might reply. "It's not healthy."
"I'm fine." The ebony mech replied, his fake cheer making the Leader of the circle wince. "I'll go recharge soon, I promise."
Sighing heavily, the Triple changer approached, his dark blue servo resting on a black shoulder, the slightly smaller mech flinching at the tender touch. "I'm worried about you Axe."
"You don't need to worry about me." Axe said firmly, a flare of anger passing through the cheer, blue optics flashing as the black shoulder dipped, the servo sliding free from where it rested.
"Our sparkling died." Dai Atlas said softly, gripping his mate's wrist as Axe lashed out at the reminder, one that would forever haunt them until they joined Wing in the Well of Sparks. "Don't fight me Axe." He rumbled pleadingly as he held his mate back from attacking him. "Please don't."
Blue optics widened at his plea, the wrist in Dai Atlas' servo going limp as Axe realised what he had been about to do. "Dai." The ebony mech whispered, the vocaliser hissing the grief. "What's happening to us Dai?"
"It'll be alright." The Triple Changer hushed, tugging his mate into an embrace, "You're grieving because of my mistake. I'm sorry, my love. I'm so sorry."
The golden detailing on Axe's frame glowed as Dai Atlas coaxed him into the warmth of their chambers, the glass doors hissing shut behind them as the Leader of the circle lay upon his berth, dragging his Chosen down with him and enveloping him in an embrace.
==Next Sunrise==
The morning light, golden and warm, blinded Axe the moment he onlined his optics. He sighed as he rolled onto his side, surprised that Dai Atlas was missing from his side. An unexplainable fear and anguish took hold, latching on with bright talons as he practically jumped from the berth, backpedalling until he collided with the wall, his armour rattling with fear as the Carrier programming that had went into turmoil when Wing had died flared, putting irrational thoughts in his processor.
Where was Dai Atlas? He was always there. Why wasn't he there? Did he die too?
"Axe?" the voice of another knight made him jump, his servo flying for his axe, the Knight squeaking in terror as the much larger mech realised who had addressed him, unfortunately after he had managed to lodge the blade of his trusty axe in the doorframe.
"Sprocket?" the black mech asked, completely puzzled as to why the other black mech with violet tribal markings crisscrossing his frame was peering warily at him from the doorframe. The Glider smiled softly, tilting his helm, his ruby optics, one highlighted by a stray curve of a marking, glinted with sympathy.
"Sir," the young mech nodded, "Dai Atlas is in the Remembrance Room. He was concerned about you, so I volunteered to come and check on you."
"Oh." Axe said, feeling foolish and mentally beating down the irrational fear his haywire protocols and broken bond with his youngling had spawned into the darkness of his processor. "Thank you Sprocket."
Pressing past Wing's sparkling-hood friend, Axe strode down the corridor, eager, yet terrified of being in his mate's presence.
Eager, because he could confirm that his lover and the Sire of his dead sparkling was still with him and hadn't been stolen away like their precious Wing had been.
Terrified, because the blame and grief between them only seemed to intensify every time they glanced at each other...
Composing himself, he rose his helm and lengthened his stride, giving off the strong, powerful presence he usually bore with such ease. But now it felt like a heavy weight, dragging him further away from the knights who would sit and laugh with him. Did they know, on some subconscious level, that he was suffering? Slowly watching as his bond with the mech he loved became less and less used, the blame of their creation's deactivation shifting and curling between them, preventing reconciliation and the ability to grieve together properly.
He nodded to Dart as she bristled past, her arms full of training swords for the class of younglings that she and Sprocket had taken on nearly four vorns ago, grumbling to herself about the convenience of her disappearing partner.
Smiling softly, he entered the Remembrance Room.
The Remembrance Room was a large beautiful room at the centre of the citadel. Prayers to Primus etched painstakingly into the very walls with rich rare fabric tapestries depicting Primus and various mystic poems. The memorials themselves were small allotments of metal sword brackets, the metal plating and wiring of the Knight that was left after it was scavenged for parts, melted down into a sword stand, their name engraved boldly on the front with their Great Swords set into them and then both were welded to the floor to remain standing for eternity.
Wing's sword bracket was empty, rare desert blooms that a friend of Wing's had found were scattered before it, the white and silver petals half shielding a toy that would have been more at home in a sparkling's tank than at the memorial sword bracket. Dai Atlas was kneeling, finishing a small prayer to Primus before rocking back to sit on the heels of his pedes, his own Great Sword tilting as it was forced to the side.
Axe hooded his optics respectfully and muttered his own prayer for the sparks of his deactivated comrades to find peace and happiness, before he knelt next to his mate whose servo was hovering almost unsure over the small turbo-eagle doll before he lifted it into his palm, the worn and slightly chewed wings flopping back as the mostly blue mech supported it in his palm.
"Atlas?" Axe whispered, his ruby opticked mate casting a glance to him.
"Axe." The Triple Changer nodded, an accepting rumble as his mate, nervously, for the first time since their creation's death at the hands of the Slave Trader Braid, made the first move. Black fingers brushed with the servo that held Wing's old toy, a silent acknowledgement of what they shared; bitterness, anguish, guilt, blame, and subtly, a willingness to start again.
Gently, Dai Atlas leaned towards his mate, ruby optics searching azure as they pressed their forehelms together, their bond flaring open, love, forgiveness, a desperate need being exchanged. "Thank you." Dai Atlas rumbled, as he placed Wing's toy back against the sword bracket, bringing up his servo to caress Axe's cheekplating. "For giving me a second chance."
As Axe made to reply, an old playful light shining in his optics, a Knight rushed into the Remembrance Room, a soft prayer flying from his lip plates in respect for the dead as he skidded to a stop before the two Leaders of the Circle of Light.
"Dai Atlas, Sir." The Knight saluted as the two rose in concern, "There is a problem in Sector Fifteen; we have picked up a foreign distress signal… They are hailing as the Wreckers…"