This is a very loose parody of the studio Ghibli film My Neighbor Totoro by Hayao Miyazaki. I say loose because only parts of it will ring back to the original story. More or less, it's actually more of a tribute to Weird Al songs, because there are a bazillion references in here (I'd love to see who can find the most). What I like about this is that I actually made it canon, and it'll probably be the only canon Ghibli parody I'll be able to do. Well, enjoy (oh and fyi I don know how to spell handkercheif. It's spelled wrong on purpose here)
Earth was a lot different than Cybertron, Iacon, the Fifth Moon of Pz-Zazz, and all of the other obscure places that Cosmos had lived in before. For one, it was a lot less busy. Not to say that the human inhabitants weren't busy; they all had jobs and such and some of them seemed to always be in a hurry. No, it wasn't that kind of busy he was thinking of. The busy Cybertron had was the kind where everybot was constantly on edge, as if waiting for another Decepticon attack even though the Great War and its short relapse were long over. It was like they didn't have one relaxing part in their chassis. If they spent time with Beachcomber they would manufacture some. He was always relaxed.
Cosmos had grown up used to metal surfaces and lots and lots of dirt. Asteroid dirt. Planetary dirt. Comet dirt (though that might actually be called dust). Dirt. Earth had its fair share of dirt and metal too, but what made it special was the life that grew out of the dirt. All sort of green plants that lived all over the planet. Some, like grass and weeds, were small, while trees could grow to be even taller than an average `bot. Cosmos had never been to an organic-based planet, and he was continually amazed at every new sight. Beachcomber had been to a bazillion organic planets, and he was slowly teaching him about everything they had to offer.
He knew he was going to like it a lot here.
Beachcomber told him that there hadn't been any `bots in Detroit since the now-renowned Earth team left several stellar cycles ago, so Cosmos had expected a possibly hostile reaction to their moving. When they landed, however, all they had to do was answer a few questions from a police chief with a prejudice against machinery. After he checked up with Optimus Magnus, he agreed to let them stay as long as they didn't cause any trouble. Trouble? There was no such thing as trouble. Only accidents. Or so Beachcomber said.
Cosmos liked Earth. So far, at least. They had only been here a few megacycles, so he didn't know if he could really give a true opinion. He liked this new thing called a 'sky', this other thing called 'wind'. Regularly learning and adapting to organic words, customs, and concepts, as well as the organics themselves was a fantastic journey that he had barely started on.
The only downside, though, was that he had no idea how long he would be here. Beachcomber liked to hop around from place to place, seeing what environment fit him the best. Once they only stayed on a planet for less than ten cycles (the five-faced aliens whose clear intentions were to perform experiments on them had been a major turn-off). Maybe this time it could be the real deal. The place that he could really call 'home'. He wasn't really sure whether he wanted to stay in one spot forever or continue to travel around the universe on a fun, aimless adventure, to be honest.
If he ever did want to settle down it'd be here. Everything about it felt right. Just lying down on the grassy hill was so refreshing. Listening to the organic birds with their rhythmic voice patterns. Watching the clouds float lazily by above them. It was like time had slowed down so that he could adequately enjoy all of the wonders Earth had to behold. Things like that didn't happen on other planets.
And yet he was impatient. He didn't want to just lie down anymore. Earth was supposed to be a fairly large planet. There was so much for him to explore, and considering their habit of moving about his time might be limited. He had to make the most of this experience here, or else forever wish he had.
Cosmos leaned over and nudged his mentor, who looked like he was about to dose off. "Hey!"
"Hm?" Beachcomber stirred, turning and looking straight at him, "Whu'issit, li'l man?"
"Do you think I could look around for a little while?" He asked.
"Sure thing."
"Really!"
"…r'lly what?"
"Can I go?"
Beachcomber scratched his head. "…whudid I say b'fore?"
"'Sure thing'."
"Oh, then a'course y'can!" He smiled, "Jus' remember: the park."
"The park!" Cosmos repeated happily.
That was their meeting spot if they ever got lost or separated. They had decided on it awhile ago, considering it was the only coordinates that they had both bothered to program into their systems. That, and it was their favorite place in Detroit that they had seen so far. Peaceful and secluded from most of the burning smell and hustle and bustle of the inner city. You could still hear and smell these urban disturbances, but it was faded in the background; hardly a distraction in view of the beauty in front of them.
Cosmos ran down the hill, not before waving good-bye to Beachcomber, and headed off toward a road nearby. It appeared to lead to a part of the outskirts he hadn't been to yet. There was a distinct difference in texture as he stepped off of the grass and onto the sidewalk. The concrete was hard a grainy compared to the soft lawn. It was less slick, however, and thus easier to maneuver on than the grass. He had already tripped twice since they got here.
He barely fit on the walkway, and his left stabilizing servo kept on slipping off into the road. Still, it was better than walking where a car could hit him. Of course, if he could actually transform that wouldn't be an issue. But he hadn't found out how to do that. Protoforms took awhile to learn this basic Cybertronian skill, and since he was in a near-protoform state the same applied to him. He used to feel awkward about it, but Beachcomber almost never utilized his alt mode anyways, so it didn't bother him anymore. Not being able to transform now felt normal.
A car blared its horn at him as he tottered into the gutter. He jumped back up onto the sidewalk in surprise. A frustrated shout of 'Watch it, ya stupid robot! D'ya think ya own the place or something!' soon followed.
This was exactly why he had wanted to avoid the road.
As soon as he could he meandered off of the main street and followed a small side path instead. It became a lot less hazardous after that. No cars were driving down this way. No rude humans, either. Cosmos could cheerfully stroll in peace without any more uncomfortable incidents. He didn't hold it against the human, though. Beachcomber said sometimes people act angry when they are actually scared. If that car had hit Cosmos, the driver, and possibly Cosmos too, could have been hurt. That was definitely a reason to be scared.
There was an overpass overhead, and it cast a long, dark shadow on him as he trekked under it. When he reached the sunlight again, he was faced with an old abandoned building. Looking at it made Cosmos feel sad. Some of its windows were cracked and the structure itself was crumbling. If he was that building he would've felt awful at having been so unloved. As he drew closer, he noticed something green sprouting up from the roof that obviously didn't belong. Something green and leafy…
A tree!
He had to see what that was all about. Trees didn't just grow out of buildings. Or at least, he didn't think they did. He sprinted over to the entrance, his curiosity officially caught.
Cosmos was very shocked when he entered the building. In view of its outer appearance its interior could only be the exact opposite. Everything inside was clearly well taken care of. A bit cluttered, yes, but it didn't give off that abandoned feel. He couldn't even see any dust anywhere in the main room. And there were many surfaces for dust to collect on: A large television, a couch, a candy dispensing-machine, and several other various objects just lying about. The only thing that looked like it hadn't been used in a long time was a lone computer/communications system off to the side.
Someone had to live here! Why else would it be so nice inside?
He came to that conclusion just before he heard the singing from down the hall.
He immeadiately made his way to the source of the music, ignoring all of the other rooms that he passed by. He wasn't missing much. From the short glimpses he caught most of them appeared to be empty. Besides, he had his sights set on finding out who it was who lived here. Who was kind enough to care for this poor building.
Finally, he reached the room that he was looking for. This one was highly decorated, but not to the point of being messy like the main room had been. Posters filled the wall, along with some weapons like swords and such. In the middle was the giant tree that was bursting out of the roof. It was bigger than any of the others that Cosmos had encountered, and definitely more magnificent as the sun hit it in all of the right spots.
Oddly enough, he found himself more interested in the strange orange mech who was currently vacuuming around said tree, singing at the top of his lungs.
"We've been spending most our lives living in an Amish paradise! I've churned butter once or twice, living in an Amish paradise! Its hard work and sacrifice, living in an Amish paradise. We sell quilts at discount price, living in an Amish paradise!"
Cosmos gawked up at him. It would be an understatement to say he was weird-looking. It was like a handful of appliances had merged together to form this `bot. And to top it off there was a large pack on his back that was filled to the brim with some unknown mixture of items that clanked together every time he walked. Not that you could hear it over his singing. But Cosmos knew better than to judge by appearances. A lot of `bots probably thought he was weird because of his height and bubble around his head.
"A local boy kicked me in the butt last week. I just smiled at him…and I turned the other cheek! I really don't care, in fact I wish him well, 'cause I'll be laughing my head off when he's burning in…" The mech stopped singing, his viz scanners landing on Cosmos, "Hey! You're not supposed to be here!"
The vacuum was turned off and returned somewhere in the mech's pack in one fluid motion. Cosmos gulped and shuffled his stabilizing servos. He hadn't known he wasn't supposed to be here! There hadn't been a sign that said so. The police chief had made sure to teach them all about the kinds of signs on Earth. Had he missed the sign forbidding him to enter in his excitement of exploring the building?
"Oh…uh…" He began, wondering how Beachcomber would react to the news of his failure.
The mech suddenly kneeled down, inspecting Cosmos. "Well lookee there! You're an Autobot!" He pointed toward the insignia on his chestplate.
Cosmos nodded stupidly.
"Me too!" The mech jabbed at his own Autobrand, "Though I was once a Decepticon, but I was an Autobot before that, and even before that I didn't know who I was!"
The vague information confused Cosmos, but the energy and cheeriness emanating from this `bot was contagious. He no longer was too worried about trespassing, and his tenseness loosened up.
"So…I'm not in trouble?" He asked.
"Course no! This is the Earth Autobot headquarters." He stretched his servos out indicating the building they were in, "All Autobots are welcomed here!"
"But I thought there were no more `bots in Detroit."
"Well…I'm still here. And there's the Dinobots, Scrapper…I think I saw Soundwave and his guitars the other day…oh! And Slipstream! I named her `cause she always runs away when I come near so she's slippery like a stream."
Why was it that everything this `bot said went completely over Cosmos's head?
"Gosh! I haven't even introduced myself yet! Where are my manners?" The mech realized in horror. Striking a heroic pose, he continued, "I am Wreck-Gar! I'm a hero!"
"I'm Cosmos." He paused, thinking of something to add as well, "I just moved here!"
"Then, welcome to Detroit!" Wreck-Gar grinned, "Cleanest place in the universe, thanks to me, and home of the only Earth-Autobot relations center."
"But the Earth team is on Cybertron…"
"Just for a little while. They promised they'd come back, so I've been keeping the HQ spic and span and ready for them." He explained, "Well…`cept for Prowl. Ratchet said he'll not be able to come back ever again. Hope I didn't bother him too much…"
"Oh."
That's all he could say.
Oh.
Cosmos remembered seeing Prowl's offline chassis at the memorial service. It was then that Beachcomber had taught him about death. He had been horrified. The idea of himself dying didn't scare him too much; the Well of All Sparks was supposed to be a great place, even if it might hurt in order to get there. But he didn't want to watch anybot he knew go offline. He didn't want to see them go through all that pain. He didn't want to be left alone. Beachcomber had assured him that it didn't happen all too often and that he had nothing to worry about. So he took him at his word. In fact, he hadn't even thought about the subject of death again until now.
But if Ratchet had decided not to break this news to Wreck-Gar, then Cosmos wouldn't either.
"I've got it!" Wreck-Gar exclaimed, like he had been thinking hard about something, "Join the PTA!"
"Huh?"
"All Autobots have a team, right? Well, at least, all the ones I know do. Grimlock and Swoop, Scrapper and Snarl, Soundwave and his minibot-things…so we should be on a team too!"
"I'm kinda on a 'team' already, though." Cosmos admitted.
He didn't really know what else to call his relationship with Beachcomber. They were definitely friends, but they were something more on a professional level. Either team, or the less emotional term of peers or co-workers. They worked together as a team. Beachcomber was the commander and Cosmos followed his direction. They learned from each other and helped out each other to reach common goals.
"Aw, that's too bad." He frowned, "Can we at least be friends?"
Cosmos looked at Wreck-Gar. His goofy expressions. The funny words and random sayings. When he smiled every part of him smiled. The mech was sincere, innocent, and made you feel comfortable after talking to him for awhile. Like there was some sort of aura of ease surrounding him at all times, no matter what was going on. He was always happy.
"Yeah!" Cosmos asserted, "And y'know what? I bet Beachcomber will let you join our 'team'."
"Really? Beachcomber'll do that?"
"Sure. I know he's going to like you a lot!"
"Yay!" Wreck-Gar shouted enthusiastically, "…who's Beachcomber?"
"Well…" He considered this. Who was Beachcomber? "He's…he's my guardian."
"Sweet! So he's like…your own personal hero! You're lucky. They're really hard to come by."
Cosmos nodded. "I know."
"But that means that you can look for Mister-"
A loud ringing sound interrupted whatever he was about to say. Wreck-Gar grabbed into his pack and retrieved an alarm clock, which was making the angry sound. He quickly threw it to the ground, stopping the alarm and causing parts to be flung across the floor. It got really quiet really fast. Both he and Cosmos stared at the carnage for a nanoclick.
"…kinda lost my train of thought….I think that was supposed to tell me something…lemme check my schedule." Wreck-Gar pressed the side of his head and a screen popped up in front of his faceplate, "Let's see: 'Wake up, do a bunch of stuff, go back to sleep'. Don't see anything about a clock…OH! That's right!"
The screen disappeared and he brought his servo to his forehead in a realization-failure pose.
"What? What is it?"
"I gotta go see the captain! He said it was important! I can't be late!" He explained.
"Then hurry! I don't want to keep you from this."
"Thanks, new friend Cosmos. I'll never forget you."
Cosmos blinked. "But we'll see each other again, right?"
"Well, duh. Why would you ask that?"
"Uh…" He smiled, or at least the closest thing to that with his mouthplate, "No reason."
Cosmos followed him outside, waving him off as he drove to this important meeting with the captain. He was filled with a new initiative, all the more excited about Earth. Maybe Wreck-Gar could show him some of the secrets of the city, give him an official tour. Just knowing that there were more `bots, especially friendly `bots, in Detroit made Earth feel even more perfect.
And he had made a friend. He didn't know if he had ever been asked to be somebot's friend before. Beachcomber had found him, and no verbal exchange about wanting to be friends had ever been made. They just naturally came together. But…Cosmos knew that they were somehow more than friends. He wasn't sure what to call them, but it was something deeper. A different kind of love that he didn't know how to describe. Cybertronians were awful at using any term past co-worker or friend.
No matter. Making a friend for the first time in these circumstances was still a big accomplishment.
He couldn't wait to go and tell Beachcomber all about this.
Cosmos decided the only thing he didn't like about Earth was rain.
When the water had started falling from the sky he had first thought that the planet was malfunctioning. There was a big leak in the atmosphere and the liquid would flood the entire surface. They would have to find something to float in for a long period of time and hope that all of the water would evaporate before they ran out of provisions and died. But when none of the humans seemed concerned about this change he calmed down. This was a normal phase in Earth's cycle.
He still didn't like it, though. The clouds that came with the rain hid the sun and the beautiful blue sky. The birds stopped singing and everything grew dark and dreary. And then there were those awful raindrops. It was like a constant wash that never would end. Nearly a solar cycle had passed and it hadn't stopped yet. At least he had an umbrella now. It protected him from the droplets of water, serving as a barrier between him and the dreaded substance. But Beachcomber didn't have an umbrella. He would get rained on without one.
Beachcomber had had an accident. He didn't give Cosmos any of the details, but when you cause an accident you're supposed to pay the person you accidented with money to show that you were really, really sorry. And to get money you had to have a job. So that's exactly what he did. Beachcomber had been working for quite some time now, earning money to give to the accidented person. It hadn't been too bad. He was only gone a few megacycles daily and he was never late.
Until now.
Cosmos walked over to the spot in the park where he usually waited for him to come back, one umbrella overhead and another in his hold for Beachcomber. Once he got back he would need something to keep him dry. After working so hard he deserved it. And Cosmos knew that he was working hard. Whenever he saw him he looked like he was extra tired, though he masked it with a happy expression. Cosmos could see through it. He had been with him too long not to notice.
Suddenly his step faltered. He waved his servos wildly to regain his balance and ended up dropping both umbrellas. He heard them hit the ground with a wet slosh. The drops of rain that he was now exposed to caught him off guard, and he was unable to stay upright no matter how hard he tried. The ground came up to meet him, and he landed face-first into a small puddle of collected rain water.
The cold wet surrounding the small part of his chassis that went under the surface made him shudder. Many concerns arose at the same time: One, his bubble-helmet would crack open and he would drown. Two, the excessive amount of water would soak into his chassis and he would short-circuit. Three, his armor would rust off. To prevent all of these from happening he quickly propped himself up and rolled out of the puddle, gasping in both surprise and fear. He thought that a small drop of liquid falling from the sky was awful. It turned out to be a lot worse when you were partially submerged.
"Mister Robot, are you okay?"
He looked up. A small human femme with bright blue eyes was standing next to him, staring. She was wearing a thin plastic-like jacket of similar color over her clothing armor, from which he could see two blonde pigtails sticking out from under the hood, and large boots that almost reached her knees. Cosmos was struck with the ingeniousness of it all. An outer armor to wear when it rained so that you wouldn't need an umbrella! He would have to try to make something like it for himself.
"Yeah, I'm fine." He answered, picking himself up along with the umbrellas. They were wet, but they had missed the puddle and thus wouldn't drip on him, so continuing to fulfill their purpose of preventing the rain from touching him.
"You didn't even cry." The femme said, amazed, "I'm a big girl, and I would've cried."
"You don't look very big."
"I am too big!" She insisted, "I'm five years old!"
Cosmos didn't know how old that really meant (he was still learning organic units of time), but the way she so confidently held out her fingers it must have been pretty old.
He lifted his own umbrella above him, and was dismayed to find that he was still drenched. Yes, the umbrella was serving well in keeping the rain away, but the little swim in the puddle had gotten so much water on him that it wouldn't leave. He shook himself, hoping to remove the excess wetness. It didn't work. It was the horrible damp feeling that wouldn't go away. His metal exterior was crying out in torturous pain. Maybe this was why `bots were discouraged from going to organic planets. He had always thought it was because of the unexplained organic prejudice, but now he saw that there really was a legitimate reason to want to avoid stuff like rain. It was terrible!
"You won't get it off that way." The femme rummaged in her pocket, "Here!"
She raised her hands up, making sure to keep them under his umbrella. In them was a tiny folded piece of cloth.
"What is that?"
"A hanky-chief. People used to have them a long time ago. Not anymore, but Mommy likes old-fashioned things, so I always have one with me."
He carefully took it from her, being sure not to pinch her small fingers. The hanky-chief was soft. It felt like a blade of grass or a leaf, but even more fine and gentle to the touch. He rubbed his fingers along it, enjoying the sensation.
"What do I do with it?"
"Wipe yourself off."
He hesitated, then slowly unfolded the cloth and pressed it against his chestplate while maintaining a hold of both of the umbrellas with his other servo (one was tucked under his servo-joint, so it wasn't that hard). When it rubbed against him the revolting wetness was diminished, practically nonexistent save for a residue that he could cope with. Incredible! Humans really were so innovative! How come `bots always wanted to make them seem so stupid?
As he started to clean off the rest of his armor, he remembered a word the femme had said that he hadn't been able to translate properly. "What's a 'mommy'?"
"A mommy. Y'know, like a mommy and a daddy? Well, my brother doesn't call them that because he doesn't think it's cool. He calls them 'Mom' and 'Dad', but it means the same thing."
That didn't explain it much. His lack of understanding was obvious, and the girl continued.
"Mommy and Daddy. Mom and Dad. Parents. Everyone has them. Or at least one. My friend Alexis only has a mommy."
"I don't have either."
"Of course you do! You just don't know it!" She said earnestly, "A mommy takes care of you and kisses your boo-boos, and a daddy protects you and plays with you. But you have to remember that they will always love you very much, more than anyone else in the world, even when they punish you or yell at you."
Cosmos wasn't sure if Cybertronians had these 'parents', but he didn't want to tell the little femme that. She was so insistent he doubted she would listen to him anyways. Her words did make him think of something, but he couldn't properly place it.
He was finished using her hanky-chief and he started to hand it back. He had dried himself off enough to feel comfortable again, and as long as he was more cautious in the future he would stay dry. There would just be a lot of slow walking so that he wouldn't trip. Wet grass was even more slippery than dry grass, and he would keep that in mind for every time it rained again in his life. He was never going to make that same mistake again, that he promised.
Looking at the hanky-chief now, though, he saw that he had absolutely soaked it through during his endeavor. The water was practically pouring from its corners, making twice as heavy as before and pitiful in appearance. It was more of a rag than a cloth.
"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry…" His faceplate grew red, embarrassed.
"That's okay. That's how it works!" The femme smiled, "Keep it. I've got lots at home."
"Thank you." He murmured, holding on tighter to his new possession. It was the first human-made item he ever had. He would take the best care of it.
"No problem. Mister Robot, where did you get an umbrella that big?"
"Well…I-"
"Nancy! Nancy there you are!"
Both Cosmos and the femme turned toward the new voice. A human mech was running up to them in a similar blue rain outfit. His hair was darker and so was his eyes, but he looked like the femme. Same bright expression, even though he was pretty winded. He stopped in front of them and caught his breath, leaning over and holding onto his knees.
"Danny! What are you doing here?" She asked, slightly annoyed.
"I've…been…looking…everywhere…for you…Nancy!" The mech, Danny, said between gasps, "I thought something happened! Don't go running off like that again!"
"I was fine. Mister Robot was watching me. You worry way too much."
He looked over at Cosmos apologetically. "Sorry. I hope my sister didn't bother you."
"No, she didn't." Cosmos assured, rubbing the wet hanky-chief one last time before putting it safely into his compartment, "She actually helped me."
"See, Danny? I helped Mister Robot. No trouble at all." Nancy proclaimed.
"Okay then." He grumbled, "We have to go. Mom's waiting for us."
"Aww…but I don't wanna." She pouted.
"Too bad." He took hold of her sleeve and tugged at it, "C'mon."
"Fine." She waved frantically at Cosmos, "Bye Mister Robot!"
"Bye!" Cosmos returned the wave.
"Thank you for watching her." Danny said.
They walked out of the park, and Cosmos kept an eye on them all of the way. If either of them were to fall into a puddle he would be right there to help them out. Finally they were gone, and he was left with an odd feeling of happiness and loneliness at the same time. He almost wanted them to come back, to continue to talk to him. To fill the void that Beachcomber's absence created. They wouldn't be able to do that, however. They weren't Beachcomber.
He continued to his destination, trying not to worry. Where was he? He was never late. In fact, he was usually early. Knowing Beachcomber, he had probably gotten interested in something on his way here and lost track of the time, or else just forgot where he was supposed to be. He was probably fine. But there was always that chance that something bad had happened…Cosmos didn't want to think about that. He would be here. He would be here.
When he reached the spot where he waited for Beachcomber, though, he was met with an orange mech instead of a blue.
"Well, howd'ya do there, new friend Cosmos?" Wreck-Gar greeted warmly. "Beautiful weather we're having today, aren't we?"
"Wreck-Gar! What are you doing here?" Cosmos asked. He hadn't seen the eccentric `bot since their first meeting. Not only had he and Beachcomber been busy, but the Autobot headquarters had always been empty, save for a sign on the couch with a smiley face assuring that he'd 'Be back soon'.
"Dunno. Just kept walking and ended up here." He shrugged, "That's how I get around."
Cosmos watched painfully as drop after drop splashed onto his friend's armor. Wreck-Gar didn't even seem to notice, but Cosmos did. Clearly remembering his own wet experience, he absently reached for his spare umbrella and lifted it up to him. Sure, it was for Beachcomber, but he was sure he wouldn't mind if somebot else borrowed it until he showed up. He might actually praise him for his good sharing abilities. And then he would give him a pat on his head and beam down on him in pride. Those were the best rewards in the world.
"Here. Hold it like mine." He instructed.
Wreck-Gar grabbed it nimbly and moved it into the correct position. When the rain stopped hitting him, his viz scanners widened. He put his servo out of the range of the umbrella and felt the water, then returned it back under its protection. Whistling, he began to spin the umbrella above him, sending shots of water spraying in every direction. Cosmos had to jump out of the way to avoid getting wet.
"Wow! Wow! How have I lived my life without this!" He exclaimed. "What's it called!"
"An umbrella."
"Amazing! This umbrella will always be an umbrella to me!"
Cosmos laughed, raising his servo when another spray of water flew at him. He had no idea how Wreck-Gar couldn't have encountered an umbrella before considering how long he had been on Earth. Then again, he still didn't know exactly what a plasma dynamic thruster was and he spent a good quarter of his life on different Cybertronian colonies.
"Hey, Wreck-Gar, I have a question."
"Okay. Ask away!"
"D'ya think if my bubble were to crack and got flooded with water…would I drown?"
"Heck no. I spent months underwater and look at me! I'm just fine!" He pointed at himself dramatically, "But maybe if it was flooded with mashed potatoes instead…"
"Months?" Once again the unit of time didn't compute, but the emphasis on the word showed that it was a considerable time to be underwater, "What happened?"
"That, my friend, is a long story I don't think I could even start right now. It's an epic tale of triumph and glory and self-discovery and...Hey who's that over there?"
Wreck-Gar pointed off into the distance and Cosmos's gaze followed it. The rain distorted the images playing in front of him, but he could see the figure walking toward him. Could recognize him.
His spark soared.
Cosmos sprinted forward, taking absolutely no regard for the hazardous slippery nature of the wet grass. It wouldn't bother him if he tripped now. Even the rain seemed to lose all of its repulsive feelings in that moment. He must have lost his grip on his umbrella, because it wasn't in his servos when he stopped running. That didn't matter. He must've taken Beachcomber by surprise, because when he wrapped himself around him he almost fell backwards. He hugged his knees tightly, thinking that perhaps if he held him tight enough he would never leave again.
"Whoa, li'l man! It's nice t' see ya too!" Beachcomber said.
"Where were you?" Cosmos whispered, hoping he didn't sound too upset. He wanted to be strong, not weak. He didn't want him to know that he had even been the least bit scared.
"Sorry…but the boss-man tol' me I could…hm…whu'was that again? Well, is where y'stay longer an' work that time an' then they pay more."
"Oh. So you got more money?"
"Huh?"
"If you work longer you'll get more money?"
"Yeah. If I keep'n doin' it, like, a few more times I'll be done workin' fer `while." He explained, "Then I can play more with ya."
Cosmos blinked, reminded of something he had heard earlier. "Beachcomber?"
"Yeah, li'l man?"
"Are you my dad?"
It was quiet for awhile, and Cosmos started to feel uneasy. Had he asked the wrong question? As far as he knew, Beachcomber fit the criteria Nancy had set up. He protected him, he played with him, and always loved him no matter what. And if this was the case, then he would finally know what to call Beachcomber when someone asked. He would know how to describe him in a way Cybertronians couldn't, because only organics understood this relationships. They weren't cold and work-oriented like most `bots.
He wanted Beachcomber to be his dad even if he wasn't.
Beachcomber smiled. "Yeah. Yeah I am."
That was it. The words he had needed so desperately to hear. Cosmos squeezed Beachcomber harder, and considered sending him samples of his emotions but knew it wasn't necessary. Beachcomber knew. He knew how he felt. How important this was to him. How important he was to him.
Nancy had been right: he did have a dad all this time, he just hadn't known it.
"Excuse me, Cosmos, but I think you dropped this."
Wreck-Gar was right next to them, the other umbrella held out their way. Beachcomber took it gratefully and unfolded it above him. Cosmos huddled closer to him – his very own dad- and sighed. Although he hadn't really noticed the wet feeling for the last few cycles, he did notice when it stopped. Umbrellas really had to be the best inventions ever created.
"Beachcomber, this is the `bot I was telling you about!" He said, "The one who lives in the Autobot headquarters."
"Huh?"
"Wreck-Gar, remember?"
"I think so…" Beachcomber replied in an unsure tone.
"Yes, I am Wreck-Gar!" Wreck-Gar agreed, "And it's very nice to meet you, Beachcomber, commander of Cosmos's Autobot team."
"Well, actually," Cosmos corrected, proud to say this for the first time in his life, "He's my dad."
Wreck-Gar lifted his finger in realization."Oh! I get it now! You're a family!"
"'Xactly right there, Wreck-Gar my man." Beachcomber nodded. "Nice t' meetcha too."
"Hm…so I guess I can't really join your team if you don't have one." He reasoned, slightly disappointed.
"…mebbe not." Beachcomber replied, "I think we havva…y'know, like, a place fer ya if ya wan'."
Seeing Wreck-Gar's faceplate brighten was enough to drive away all of the gloom of the rainy day.
Cosmos held his breath, ignoring all of his programming which was screaming at him to run. If he ran, or even made any sudden movements, the consequences could be severe. He had no idea whether they would attack or not. Wreck-Gar had said that they 'sure don't act like Barney', whatever that meant. It sure didn't sound like anything good.
The solar cycle had started out normal enough. Well, as normal as it could be since Wreck-Gar had started watching him. The arrangement had been created out of a happy medium: Wreck-Gar would be a part of their 'team' and Cosmos wouldn't get so lonely while Beachcomber was working. Early in the morning he had been dropped off at the Autobot headquarters, not before saying good-bye to his dad and wishing him luck for his work. Wreck-Gar had quickly swept him off to a drive-thru at Burger Bot for a cultural experience (it turned out to be long and full of complications, but being trapped at the drive-thru had still been fun), and after that had brought him to this island so that he could help him out with some hero work.
Now one of the large `bots that called the island home was sniffing him, his snout less that a mechanometer away, as if deciding whether or not he was suitable for eating or not. A puff of warm air blew out of his nostrils, and Cosmos stiffened. He really didn't want to be eaten.
The two `bots were really odd looking. The mechs had this alt mode that was organic-based, but was completely made of metal nonetheless. It was like they were shaped to look like organics, to fool everyone else. The one with the long tail and tall stature a whole lot bigger than any organics he knew of, though, even bigger than some Cybertronians, while the other was lean with some sort of wings as servos. The Autobot blue viz scanners on both of them was reassuring, but just because they were Autobots didn't mean they weren't hungry.
"Grimlock, Swoop, this is Cosmos!" Wreck-Gar introduced, "Cosmos, meet the Dinobots!"
"…hi…" He mumbled, envying his friend's ability to be so calm. Wreck-Gar was practically petting Swoop, not at all scared or intimidated. One false move and that beak might snap his servo off at the wrist joint and…
"Why little-bot have funny hat?" The larger `bot, Grimlock, asked, gesturing towards his bubble.
"I-I don't know." He squeaked, "I was manufactured that way."
The Dinobot snorted. "Me Grimlock like. Little-bot is so…cuuuute!"
Swoop gave a cry of approval, and Cosmos felt like melting away in relief. One disaster narrowly averted. He was never so happy to have such an abnormal chassis part in his life. He finally felt that it was appropriate to move around again, and he stretched himself out. All of his limbs had become so rigid from being still for that long.
"Is something wrong with Swoop's vocalizer?" He asked.
"Ah…him Swoop isn't as great as me Grimlock. Only me Grimlock speak, and that's because me Grimlock kiiiiing!"
Swoop squawked in protest.
"Okay, okay. Him Swoop still good. Him and me Grimlock good buddies. At least him not pet, like someone else me Grimlock knows…" He growled.
"Oh, you mean Snarl!" Wreck-Gar inputted.
"Me Grimlock don't want to talk about him. Him betrayed Dinobots and became pet."
"But he's such a good Substitute Autobot…"
"Pet? Why would he become a pet?" Cosmos interrupted.
"Don't ask me Grimlock. Him the stupid-head who went and done it."
"Hey, y'know…" Wreck-Gar mused, "I think we're supposed to be here for a reason other than friendly chat, aren't we, Cosmos?"
"Yeah…didn't you say you had hero business?"
"That's right! Hero business!" He remembered, "Grimlock, the Captain said that there was a fire here. D'ya know anything about it?"
"Me Grimlock don't know what garbage truck is talking about."
"Okay then! Guess we came here for nothing." He shrugged, "C'mon, Cosmos, let's go."
He started to walk away, but Cosmos grabbed onto his servo, holding him back. "Wait! I want to look around a bit. Can we? Please?"
The island reminded him of the park, but bigger and better. The trees were so close together at parts that it was difficult to squeeze in between them to get through. There were flowers with colors not like the ones near the city, the birds sang different songs, and he even saw some organics running through the forest that he hadn't seen before. They were taller and lankier than the dogs and cats he had already been introduced to, and some of them had white sticks coming out from their heads.
If this was any indicator of what the rest of the island was like, Cosmos knew he wanted to see more.
"All righty! One specialty Wreck-Gar tour to go, then!" He announced, smiling. "We'll see you later, Dinobots!"
"Bye Grimlock! Bye Swoop!" Cosmos waved.
"Bye, little-bot!" Grimlock replied, Swoop joining him with a robotic shriek.
He thought he caught a glimpse of the two of them glaring at each other uncertainly as he followed Wreck-Gar deeper into the woods. Not sure what to make of it, he didn't not to think too much of it. Sometimes people do weird things, and that doesn't always mean something bad. You have to give them the benefit of the doubt. He would've never thought that a scary looking `bot like that could actually be nice, and he had been very wrong.
They took the path that led back to the beach that they had come from, but instead of taking a right to return to their boat they took a left, leading them more toward the middle of the island. That was good. They had walked down a steep incline in order to reach this crater and he wasn't looking forward to climbing back up it. Then again, with Wreck-Gar in charge he'd probably turn it into some kind of game or distract him from the physical work by teaching him a new song or telling a new story. He still hadn't finished the story about he became a hero in the first place. On the way to the island he had started it off to pass time but had to stop at a really suspenseful part: he had just come face-to-face with a Decepticon called Lugnut. Cosmos was really looking forward to hearing the end.
"I come `round here a lot to check up on the Dinobots for the Captain." Wreck-Gar explained as they walked, "Part of my official hero duties. I think it's because the Captain isn't very good with `bots…or any machine for that matter."
"Not good with us?" Cosmos repeated.
"Yeah. I don't think he likes our kind much."
"What? Why?"
"Something always seems to go wrong when he's around one. For example, last time he was here with me Grimlock almost chewed off his leg. It wasn't Grimmy's fault, though. He had just thought that the Captain was his dinner, not his friend."
Cosmos was all the more grateful for quickly becoming Grimlock's friend, not his dinner. Thank the Allspark for his 'cute' bubble!
"But," Wreck-Gar continued, "Once you get to know the Captain he treats you differently. He hadn't called me a walking malfunction in a whole week. That's a new record!"
"You must be doing a really good job, then."
"Guess so. I don't actually know what 'walking malfunction' means, but he always apologizes after saying it so he must be making a mistake. Don't know how he mistakes 'Wreck-Gar' for that, but its okay. We all love him anyways."
As they kept trekking forward, Cosmos noticed the ground starting to feel different. Before it had been soft and moist, but now it was hard and rough. Looking down, he saw that it was even darker in appearance. He stopped walking, a foreign smell entering his olfactory sensors. It wasn't a fresh scent, but it was powerful enough to pick up in the breeze.
"…Wreck-Gar?"
Wreck-Gar had stopped as well, only a few mechanometers ahead. "Well…that's weird."
Cosmos ran up next to him, wondering what he was staring at.
He stifled a gasp.
When he and Beachcomber had lived on Iacon for awhile they had met a mech named Hot Shot. Hot Shot had flamethrowers built into his servos which he liked a little too much. Several times while they were there something – or in the rare case somebot- was on fire. It had never been anything that terrible. If metal burned it more just melted or else got really bendy, and the flames would have to be really intense to cause any actual destruction other than an average black singe mark.
Turned out that when organic material burned, it was a lot, lot worse.
The small area of the forest ahead of them had been reduced to ashes, only severely charred stumps showing that there had indeed been trees there at one time. The grass was eaten up, and the few trees nearby that hadn't gone up in flames still had scorches up their trunks. Cosmos walked forward to one of the stumps and touched it gingerly. It crumbled to pieces on contact, leaving him with chalky black dust on his fingertips. Not firm like the foundations of the trees he knew.
"What happened?" He asked.
"Must be the fire the Captain was talking about." Wreck-Gar frowned, but it was quickly replaced with his usual smile, "Okay then! Guess I get to do some hero work after all!"
"Will the hero work help the trees?"
"Yep."
"Then I want to do it too!"
"Sure thing, deputy hero! You can start by making some holes in the ground about this big about…say, this far apart." He indicated the lengths with his servo.
"Wow, that's really small."
"Well yeah. They're small seeds." He said matter-of-factly, "Now get to work, deputy hero!"
"Got it!" He replied with a salute, even though he didn't know what a 'seed' was.
Cosmos leaned over and began to do his task, poking his fingers into the earth to create the holes Wreck-Gar needed. It more difficult to do than he thought, the dirt being so hard and crusty. He had to press harder than he would if it hadn't been burnt, and yet still being very careful not to press too hard and make them bigger than necessary. With such precise instructions he knew he was going to follow them exactly. He liked being told that he did a good job.
After he had made thirty or so, each about five mechanometers away from each other, he stepped back, admiring what he had done.
"Oh good! That's perfect!" Wreck-Gar nodded in his approval, "Now hold this."
He shoved a blue plastic container of some sort in his direction, which Cosmos quickly took hold of. He watched as Wreck-Gar pulled some envelopes out of his pack and ripped them open, pouring little round pellets into the newly-dug holes. They were so small that Cosmos could barely see them. Only because they were so many of them was he able to catch sight of them as they fell out of his friend's palm.
"Are those the seeds?"
"Yep!"
"What do they do?"
"They make trees! You just put a buncha them in a hole and give them drinks and as a reward for quenching their overwhelming thirst they give you a baby tree! It's really cool!"
He blinked. "But how do they drink if they don't have mouths?"
"Uh…they suck it in through their bodies, I guess. They already know how to, and we just give them the drinks. The Captain told me all about how to do it. We'll take care of them together, you and me, okay?"
"Okay! It sounds like a lot of fun." Cosmos said, "What do baby trees look like?"
"They are like normal trees, but smaller and defenseless. You have to help hold them up because they don't have muscles at first and they get thirsty too so you give them drinks. But eventually after all your hard work in raising them they don't need your help anymore because they grow strong and find their own drinks." Wreck-Gar explained.
"So we can't take care of them forever?"
"Nope. They're like all children; one day they have to leave the nest."
Cosmos was about to ask about what a 'children' and 'nest' was when a drop of wet hit his armor, causing him to cry out in shock. Rain? Was it raining again? He checked the sky for the usual indicators of a storm: dark complexion, angry black clouds, and, of course, rain. Instead he saw nothing but a beautiful bright sky with the sun shining down and friendly, fluffy clouds. It wasn't raining, then. But he definitely was wet. He could still feel it. Where had the water come from?
His question was soon answered when he took a step forward, the contents of his container dripping onto him again.
"Oh! I'm holding the drinks!" He realized out loud, remembering that organics needed an intake of water to survive. It was like organic oil, except it didn't make the ones who drank it act funny. Beachcomber told him to steer clear of it after they had passed a red mech on Cybertron who had drunk a little too much. He had acted very funny.
"Uh-huh. Give them a bit, wouldja?"
He obliged, tilting the container over on top of the holes, which now were covered with a new layer of dirt. His servos shook some as he did. Although he knew he had total control over how much water was coming out, he was still afraid that he would spill some on himself. What was strange, though, was that the wet texture wasn't bothering him as much as it did before. Maybe he was getting used to it. That would be a relief; he hadn't been able to find any material to make a rain jacket like the one Nancy had.
The water drained from the container, Cosmos handed it back to Wreck-Gar. "Here. It's gone."
"Why, thank you!" He grinned, returning it to his pack.
"When will the baby trees come?"
"Eh…I don't remember." He admitted, "Next time I see the Captain, I'll ask him."
Cosmos stared at the pockets of earth, imagining what it would be like when the baby trees started growing. He would be able to watch the cycles of life for this organic plant. The thought of it excited him. To see something so small grow into something so large. It was going to be so beautiful and so amazing.
Thinking about it made him think about Beachcomber. His dad admired trees so much. He admired organics so much, for that matter. But he couldn't be here because of his work. In fact, he hadn't been able to do much at all with him except their tradition of watching the sunrise and sunset every morning and evening. It was almost like he was always at his job now, especially since he was working later more and more. Cosmos would've loved to have Beachcomber here with him, having fun with him.
"…hey! Hey, I almost forgot!" He exclaimed, viz scanners widening.
"Almost forgot what?"
"Tommorow's Beachcomber's day off!" He informed excitedly, "Can we do something with him? Please?"
Wreck-Gar scratched his chin. "Okay. I've got the perfect thing to do."
"Here it is!" Wreck-Gar announced as he ducked in order to pass through the entrance, "I've been waiting since last June for this!"
Cosmos followed in after Beachcomber, ready to take in every sight. Wreck-Gar described this as one of the most amazing places in the world, and as a human mech's paradise. Since he was a Cybertronian mech, maybe that would mean it would be a paradise for him too. And Beachcomber and Wreck-Gar. Maybe there would be a lot of organics everywhere! Of course, that wasn't something that most humans thought were really cool, probably because they interacted with them on a daily basis.
He grabbed hold of Beachcomber's servo, swinging it back and forth. His dad smiled down on him. Cosmos was so glad that they were able to do something. It was like their special solar cycle, the one time in a long time that work wouldn't get in the way of their fun. They could spend it doing whatever they wanted, as long as they were together. With Wreck-Gar, too. He could tell that the two of them were getting along well. A conversation on birds had broken the already thin ice.
As they walked into the premises he was greeted by the smell of motor oil, paint, and freshly cut wood. Wreck-Gar was right. This was a human mech's paradise. Well, he didn't know what about it was so appealing to that demographic, but everywhere he looked there was a human mech pushing along a cart, sometimes accompanied by a femme but most were all on their own. Some were moving their way to some tables near the entrance with full carts but others were going with empty ones towards the plethora of shelves that filled up the building.
Cosmos's attention was drawn to an array of dazzling things hanging down from the ceiling in a row between two of the shelves. Although he could only see it faintly from a distance, he could tell they were pretty. Rays of light were bouncing off of them, reflecting and dancing onto the walls. He almost missed Wreck-Gar's introduction of the shop because of the fascination.
"This right here is the hardware store! The place with guys with nametags walking down the aisles and rows of garden hoses that go on for miles and miles!" He said with his usual glow of merriment.
"So whudo we, like, do?" Beachcomber asked.
"Just look around! There's a ton of cool stuff to look at."
He nodded. "Sounds good t'me. Whaddaya say Cosmos?"
"Uh-huh! Let's do it!" He replied enthusiastically.
"Where do we start?"
"I'll show you. Follow me!" Wreck-Gar said.
Many of the humans in the store had stopped moving and were staring at them as they walked over to the first row of shelving. Either that, or there was the choice few who were hurrying out of the building altogether. This wasn't anything new. Cosmos supposed that, even if the Earth team used to be here all the time, humans still were amazed and a bit scared of Cybertronians, just like he was still amazed by organics after seeing them nonstop since he got here. A few of the younger ones took out small devices that sent out a bright light after pressing a button on the top.
They approached the shelves, Cosmos making sure to take a good look at all of the items on display. The names of the merchandise were unknown, but it reminded him a lot of Cybertron. Lots and lots of metal. These weren't fancy colors like most edifices in his apparent home planet were painted, but just a shiny silver. Boxes upon boxes were stacked up above and below the exhibit, probably housing the wares actually available for purchase rather than the display models.
"What's all this called?" He asked his dad. Beachcomber was just staring at the tools with his usual far-off expression, unable to answer his question.
Fortunately, Wreck-Gar heard.
"Would you look at all that stuff..." He said, waving his servos in every direction, "They've got Allen wrenches, gerbil feeders, toilet seats, electric heaters, trash compactors, juice extractor, shower rods and water meters. Walkie-talkies, copper wires, safety goggles, radial tires, BB pellets, rubber mallets, fans and dehumidifiers. Picture hangers, paper cutters, waffle irons, window shutters, paint removers, window louvers, masking tape and plastic gutters."
Cosmos could barely follow Wreck-Gar's words or steps as he walked along the aisle, naming off every item they came across. Beachcomber was even less aware, Cosmos having to pull a little at his arm to get him to come along. He did seem to be processing everything Wreck-Gar was saying. He was probably taking more time to look at all of the products than Cosmos, who was giving them the longest glances possible with the speed his friend was going at describing them.
"Kitchen faucets, folding tables, weather stripping, jumper cables, hooks and tackle, grout and spackle, power foggers, spoons and ladles. Pesticides for fumigation, high-performance lubrication, metal roofing, water proofing, multi-purpose insulation, air compressors, brass connectors, wrecking chisels, smoke detectors, tire guages, hamster cages, thermostats and bug deflectors." He continued, not even stopping for a break, "Trailer hitch demagnetizers…"
Suddenly Beachcomber shoved his servos around Cosmos's audio receptors. It was a quick motion, and he barely had time to react. By the time they were released and he could hear again he had only missed one of the names that Wreck-Gar was listing. When he tried to turn and see this unidentified object, Beachcomber gently forced his bubble forward, making it impossible to take a peek. Whatever this was, it must not be something he was supposed to know about.
"Tennis rackets, angle brackets, Duracells and Energizers. Soffit panels, circuit breakers, vacuum cleaners, coffee makers, calculators, generators, matching salt and pepper shakers." Wreck-Gar finished off proudly, "Dang, this is one amazing place. Am I right?"
"It is r'lly, like, y'know, somewhere that `as a lotta things that a lotta people prolly need." His dad said.
"What's that over there?" Cosmos asked, letting go of Beachcomber to point toward the dazzly things. Since they weren't on a shelf Wreck-Gar hadn't gotten to say what they were. Now that he was closer he could see that some of them were different colors, glowing radiantly as the light fixtures hit them.
"Chandeliers." The orange mech informed, "They capture light and throw it in your eyes to try and blind you."
"But they're so pretty…"
"It's not a bad thing! They only do it because they like it here so much and they don't want you to buy them."
"So they don't want to leave their home." He said slowly.
"Righty-o!"
Cosmos stared up at the chandeliers sadly. He understood why they tried so hard not to be bought. He didn't want to leave his home, either.
There was a coughing sound below them. "Um, excuse me."
By their stabilizing servos was a human mech with a visor over his eyes and not much fluffy fur on the top of his head. He didn't have a cart with him, so Cosmos assumed he wasn't here to shop like the other humans were.
"Yes, what can we do for you, sir?" Wreck-Gar said in an overly-polite tone.
"I'm going to have to ask you three to leave immeadiately."
"Why? Did we do something wrong?" Beachcomber asked.
"No, but you're creating a scene. Nobody wants to come in here because of you. And the freaks that do want to aren't going to buy anything."
"So, whu'are ya gonna do?"
"I'm asking you to kindly leave."
"Yer what?"
The human adjusted his visor, appearing to be quite angry. "Leave. Now."
Beachcomber nodded, taking hold of Cosmos's servo again. They started out of the store, Cosmos taking one last fleeting look at the chandeliers that he so easily related to. They twinkled softly back at him, as if saying good-bye and thanking him for not buying them.
"Thanks for having us!" Wreck-Gar called, "We'll be sure to come back sometime soon!"
The frustrated human grumbled some choice words that Cosmos didn't know. The way Beachcomber slightly winced at the sound of them, he knew they were as bad as the unnamed item that he hadn't been allowed to hear.
If he hadn't met Nancy or her brother, Cosmos would be convinced that all humans were destined to hate Cybertronians.
They walked along to the small wooded area a few mechanometers away. It wasn't a wooded area like the forest on the Dinobot Island, but it still had a considerable amount of trees compared to other places this close to the city. Cosmos was glad to know that some bits of forestry were preserved when all of this technological innovation and regeneration started. If not, he might have never seen trees in his life.
"Oh! Man, almost forgot!" Wreck-Gar said out of the blue. Before they could ask what that meant, he ran off, dashing into the woods.
"Let's wait fer `im here, li'l man." Beachcomber suggested.
"Okay." He agreed, "Hey, dad, are you having fun today?"
"A'course! I'lways have fun with ya."
"Me too."
The two of them sat down, Cosmos cuddling closer to him. They patiently watched the clouds pass by, identifying a few to look like things they had seen before. A dog. A bird. A can. plasma dynamic thruster. Cosmos tried to ask Beachcomber what that was but he wouldn't answer him directly, mumbling something about an accident and speaking a language called 'Spanish'. Apparently Beachcomber had more accidents than Cosmos knew about.
Finally Wreck-Gar reappeared, a small shrubbery in his possession.
"Here we go!" He said triumphantly, holding it out to Cosmos, "Eat it!"
He stared at the plant, some dirt falling off from its exposed roots. "Huh?"
"Just eat it! Don't you know that other kids are starving in Japan?" Wreck-Gar insisted, "Growing boys need to eat their greens!"
Cosmos looked at the shrub then at Wreck-Gar then at Beachcomber then back to the shrub again. What was this supposed to mean? He didn't think he could ingest anything organic, not that he'd want to anyways. Whatever it was, it must be important. His friend was still dangling it in front of him, eager for it to be eaten for some reason.
"Here, Wreck-Gar, lemme d'it." Beachcomber offered, taking the plant from his servos.
"What are you doing?" Cosmos asked in a hushed tone.
His dad tore off some of the leaves, sprinkling it over his bubble. "It's `cos yer a child."
"…is child a form of the word 'children'?"
"Yeah."
An uncomfortable feeling rose up inside of him. Leaf after leaf dropped on top of his bubble, sliding off the side. He grabbed one before it landed on the ground, holding it gingerly in his palm. Greens. These were his greens. And he was a child. Memories of the meanings of these phrases and terms flashed in front of him, and he began to feel slightly ill.
Wreck-Gar smiled, pleased that he was being 'fed', and even Beachcomber looked happy. He didn't share their enjoyment.
He was ready for this solar cycle to be over.
Walking over to the Autobot headquarters had never been so awkward. Cosmos knew it was his fault. He couldn't control the way he was acting. He wanted to hold Beachcomber's servo all the way there like he used to. To talk and giggle like he used to. But he couldn't. Instead he walked silently behind his dad, starting longingly at his open servo.
He was looking forward to when he would be dropped off with Wreck-Gar. It wouldn't be quite as bad then.
"Y'okay, li'l man?"
Cosmos looked up at Beachcomber nervously. "I'm fine."
"Y'sure? `Cos of y'need, like, t' talk `bout `nything…"
"It's okay. I don't."
"Ya don't what?"
"I don't need to talk about anything!" He almost shouted.
"…kay." Beachcomber nodded solemnly.
Cosmos fiddled with his fingers. He hadn't intended to make his dad sad. But he was afraid. He was afraid if they talked that Beachcomber would say something he didn't want to hear. Something that would make his decision even more difficult for him. So he remained quiet, hoping he wouldn't have to raise his voice again.
They reached the headquarters soon after, and he practically raced into the main room, leaving Beachcomber behind.
"Hey, Wreck-Gar! D'ya think we can go see if the baby trees are here yet?" He called.
Nothing. No answer. No singing. No humming. No whistling. Not even the distant sound of vacuuming. It was like the whole building was dead. He ran over to the couch where the note usually was. That wasn't there either. Cosmos whipped his head around, desperately searching for the place where Wreck-Gar was hiding. Someone that big and noisy wasn't easy to hide. The Earth seemed to stop on his axis as he came to the horrid conclusion.
Wreck-Gar wasn't here.
"Is he outside! Did we pass him on the way!" He asked Beachcomber, who had just now entered.
"Whu'are y'talkin' `bout, li'l man?"
"He's gone."
His dad frowned. "No, y'know, like paper sayin' he was on `n erran' or something?"
"No. Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing."
"Stay here."
He went over to the hallway, disappearing out of sight. Cosmos did as he was told, even though he would rather have gone out to help look for his friend too. He sat down on the couch, all of his sensors going numb. Everything around him was all mixed up, like reality was flipped upside down. He was in an awful state of distress, and he was surprised to find that it only had a little to do with Wreck-Gar's sudden vanishing. Yes he was scared for his friend. Maybe he was lost and couldn't find his way back here. Maybe he was offline. But that wasn't all that he was upset about.
It had more to do with the problems he had been ignoring.
He was torn. It was tearing him up on every level he could think of. His spark was being torn between his dad and his friend.
It hadn't been like that at first. He had been able to live normally with equal amounts of affection for Beachcomber and for Wreck-Gar. But then…something changed. He wasn't sure what it was, or if it had to do with his dad's work or what. All he knew was that things became different. Things started to get awkward.
Oh. That was right. It wasn't because of work. It was because he had to grow up.
Cosmos was a child. How this happened to a Cybertronian, nobot knows. In a world full of adults it meant he had been forced to learn. A lot. Concepts like death and war and survival hadn't been programmed into him like most `bots. He had to experience it to start to understand it. Everybot else was just manufactured with this information. Maybe that was it. Maybe he had been created incorrectly. While being protoformed his processor was damaged and he was left with a child-like mentality.
It didn't matter how he got like this. Even if that was the case, he still had to grow up.
Wreck-Gar had explained it all earlier but he hadn't fully grasped the meaning until Beachcomber had taught him more about birds. Protoform birds lived in a little collection of branches called a nest. Their moms and dads provided for them until they knew they were ready. Then the protoform bird would jump out and fly away, never usually seeing their parents again.
So it was with all children, apparently. And since he was a child too, it applied to him as well. He didn't have a nest (although he had tried to make one out of planks of wood and some junk he found dumpster-diving, but it hadn't really worked out) but he did have a parent. A parent who knew he was ready. This was proven when he had given him his greens yesterday. Beachcomber wanted him to go. He knew he was ready to go. Wreck-Gar knew he was ready to go.
The only issue was that he himself didn't want to go.
That's where the tearing feeling had started. If he grew up like he was supposed to, he would be disowning his dad but being with Wreck-Gar. If he didn't grow up, then he would be both going against a seeming law of nature and the wishes of his dad and friend, but would be choosing Beachcomber and not Wreck-Gar. Both choices would bring pain and grief and he didn't want to make them. They knew he was a child, right? He couldn't take this kind of stress!
Oil welled up in his viz scanners, and he grabbed his hanky-chief from his compartment. Even if he couldn't actually wipe away his tears like humans did due to his bubble, he still dabbed around that area. It made him feel somewhat better, but it didn't solve his problem. His thoughts tumbled around in his processor, only making things more confusing. He rubbed the cloth comfortingly, wishing it could all just end.
But you have to remember that they will always love you very much, more than anyone else in the world, even when they punish you or yell at you.
Nancy's words. He froze. How could he have forgotten? Forgotten all about what he had learned about a dad. He would always love him. Always. No matter what choice he made. And if a friend was anything like a dad, then Wreck-Gar would understand too. He stroked the hanky-chief, immensely grateful for the recall it had brought him, and returned it to his compartment. He didn't have to choose between two people he cared for.
He didn't have to grow up.
"Li'l man, he's not`n here. I think mebbe…"
Beachcomber was cut off when Cosmos practically tackled him, hugging him harder than every hug he had ever given times infinity. All of the stress was gone. All of his worries had disappeared. It was just him and his dad. No choices. No mistakes. No accidents. No deciding who he liked more. Beachcomber wrapped his own servos around him, the warmth of his chassi enfolding him.
"I love you, dad! I love you so much!" He cried.
"I love ya too, Cosmos."
Cosmos looked up at him. "Even if I don't grow up?"
Beachcomber gave a look of momentary confusion then smiled. "Yeah. Even if ya don't grow up."
That was it. The assurance of his decision. He laughed and almost cried at the same time. He didn't care. He was too happy to be concerned about shedding any tears. Everything was coming back to normal again. Everything was feeling perfect again.
"Hey, what are you guys doing here?"
Cosmos recognized that voice.
"Wreck-Gar!" He turned. Indeed it was his friend, striding into the headquarters with a sack over his shoulder. "Where have you been?"
"Whaddaya mean? I just went out to get some of this…uh…what's it called…" He brought the sack close to his faceplate and sounded out the word printed on it, "Fur-tih-lie-zur. Fertilizer. Yeah, that's it. The Captain told me the baby trees would need it."
"Ya din't leave a note." Beachcomber informed.
Wreck-Gar frowned. "Course I did! I always leave a note."
"Look. There's nothing there." Cosmos went over to the couch, clearly showing the lack of a note.
"That's strange…I wonder…" He twirled the sack as he thought, then raised his finger, "Aha! That's it!" Lifting his stabilizing servo, he peeled off something from his heel. "I was wondering what that was!"
The note was covered in oil and all other kinds of trash, but was still partially recognizable as the smiley face indicator of Wreck-Gar's absence. Cosmos couldn't help but giggle. He could barely believe that he had gotten so worked up and scared because the note had gotten stuck to his foot. But…if that hadn't happened, he wouldn't have forced himself to solve his problem. He would even now be fretting over who he'd rather be with: his dad or his friend? He looked at the filth-covered note with a new sense of thankfulness.
"Dad?" He said quietly, reminded of the one last thing that was bothering him.
"Yeah, li'l man?"
"Can we make this our home? I…I mean…can we stay here?"
Beachcomber seemed to consider this. For a nanoclick Cosmos feared he would say no. That he would continue to roam aimlessly across the galaxy. Not that that wouldn't be fun too, but he had really grown fond of Earth. It's culture, the organics, and Wreck-Gar, of course. It would be sad if he had to leave.
"Yeah, we can stay here." His dad finally answered.
"Forever?"
"Forever."