Series/Verse: G1
Kink OP and/or prompt: twins_x_ratch Comm Wrench of Inspiration #40 Song prompt Castle of Glass by Linkin Park
Rating: PG13/T
Disclaimer: This is a piece of fiction. No harm was intended in the creation of this work. All rights belong to the original creators.
Pairings: Sideswipe x Sunstreaker x Ratchet
Warnings: Undertones of a desire to no longer live.
A/N: I absolutely love this song. In fact, it is part of a play list that I listen to almost obsessively so, despite my trying to stay away from song fics, when this song appeared in the prompts, I just had to do something with it.

I think the story turned out to be more Sideswipe-centric than I planned, but with the plot I had in mind, no matter who I chose one mech was going to be dominant in the story over the others. The bunny for this is that this takes place before any romantic relation between Ratchet and the twins, although, Ratchet does already love the pair, and in all likely hood, they already love him, so I have plans to follow on with an exploration of a budding relationship between the three while Ratchet tries to answer Sideswipe's call for help.

On a final note, this is my first attempt at writing in present tense, and I know that I have failed in a few places (more so at the beginning) so I apologise in advance. I also apologise for using the karaoke theme, and for that I blame the bunnies and beg your forgiveness XD

"Lyrics"
/Comm/
~twin bond speech~

Sideswipe is not whom others perceive him to be.

Sure, he himself professes to be a king amongst kings when it comes to pranking; even Jazz, master saboteur, concedes that his own games are asinine compared to Sideswipe's arsenal of ideas. In addition to being a master of his craft, Sideswipe is also an out and out idiot, a fool, the joker in the pack. He is the only 'bot on the ark who can elicit both mirth and annoyance at the same time; tomfoolery being another skill the front liner adds to his résumé.

In battle, he is the team jock and amongst the Earth bound Cybertronians his skills are only equalled by his twin. But while both are accomplished fighters, their instincts honed in the gladiator rings, the brashness they have come to rely on over the stellar-cycles hampers them at times, reaping them the reputation that others are more than happy to bestow on them, and they easily live up to that notoriety.

However all of these personas, everything that is on the outside, free for all to see, this is not who Sideswipe is.

In part he is all of that, for no one plays those roles to the extent that Sideswipe does, and those traits not be a little of whom the front liner is. Then let us not forget that smooth talking…could sell Swindle his own firearms back to him before the 'con would even know they were missing…side of mech. Sunstreaker has no idea where his twin has learnt the gift of the gab, they have never been apart for any substantial amount of time, yet Sunstreaker has not a fraction of the outward confidence Sideswipe oozes in. However words are easy to find when you have a vocab as extensive as Sideswipes', but Sunstreaker knows different.

Peel back all of this, the pranks, the idiotic behaviour, his battle prowess and his smooth exterior and below all that armour, is a very different mech altogether.

Look deep enough and you will find the Sideswipe that Sunstreaker knows, intimately, yet no one else can see, or has even taken the time to see. And the longer Sideswipe denies this hidden version of himself, the deeper he becomes buried within the front liner's spark, where guilt and bitterness corrodes Sideswipe from the inside out. Sunstreaker knows that it is only a matter of time before this persona finally breaks free, and alone, the golden twin is not sure that he is strong enough to hold Sideswipe together. For Sideswipe is broken, ruined, his ego so fragile that if he were to snap, he may not ever be repaired.

Inside, the Autobot soldier is cracked, though not yet shattered, but his real self is like a plate of fractured glass; the crack is there, only clearly visible from a particular angle, but from other orientations that crack is merely a distortion, a flaw, and as most only see what their optics allow them see, they fleetingly glance at the blemish, before their optics, and thoughts, are already elsewhere. But if they just move closer, face that plate of glass helm on and see the crack, then their instinct would be to repair it.

But this fission within Sideswipe has been left to fester, leaving an abyss that becomes increasingly difficult to fill. Sunstreaker tries his best, he truly does, but it is no longer enough. Not that Sideswipe ever tells him this, or even implies the fact; it is merely a belief that Sunstreaker has. One that eats at the surly mech's spark, cycle by cycle, as he watches his twin slip deeper into the depths of his hopelessness. Sunstreaker also knows that Sideswipe will always need, and want his protection and solace before he would accept another's, but this does not stop the outwardly aggressive twin from worrying about the inevitable.

When alone, Sunstreaker encourages Sideswipe to let go, to release whatever thoughts flit through his processor as he loosens his tight grip on his hidden self. Yes, the one mech known for having very little patience, an insurmountable amount of anger, and a death wish to boot, again, a façade many are just too willing to accept, encourages Sideswipe to let go that which plagues him, little by little.

However, despite how acutely Sunstreaker feels Sideswipe's pain, some cycles he fails to help, neither his words of solace nor his soothing fingers on heated plating nearly enough to placate the demons and heal the most important mech in his life, because in reality, how can you convince someone that their hands are not stained in life-energon, when your own are just as dirty, just as guilty. How can you persuade another that taking lives is what they have to do to survive, when once they had killed for sport, and that in the name of entertainment they would rip out an opponent's spark just to hear the crowd cheer their prowess and chant their designations; and at one point they had been amongst the best at what they did.

Some cycles, no matter how harshly Sideswipe scrubs at his frame, how abrasive a cleanser he uses on his hands and plating, the front liner never feels cleansed. Not even when Sideswipe's need to strip himself of the feel of life-energon on his plating, real or imagined, has resulted in Sunstreaker calling for Ratchet's help whilst imploring that the Autobot CMO not tell the rest of command of his twins' behaviour, does Sideswipe feel free from the stench of death.

It is while spiralling downwards into one of his unseen dark periods, that Sideswipe finds himself reaching out in the most unusual manner.

Since waking on Earth, in main, the Autobots have embraced the planet which they have come to call home, and have been encouraged by their human allies to enjoy some of the more frivolous human entertainments, one such activity being karaoke. At first the notion was met with bewilderment, as well as horror from some once the Autobots had researched this karaoke malarkey; a Cybertronians' natural pitch and language not conducive to such activity. However, with a little vocaliser adjustment and a whole lot of ball bearings to stand in front of their comrades and sing, the stranded alien beings adopted Karaoke night, and once a mouth the whole Autobot crew made an effort to come together, and heckle those who had said ball bearings.

It is never difficult to get Sideswipe up on centre stage, not when the whole event wildly appeals to that gregarious side of him; it is almost as if he needs these occasions to feed the façade he has draped over his spark and processor. This cycle is no different, and Sunstreaker dilates his optics as Sideswipe moves through the strategically lit rec room; the lighting arrangement programmed by Blaster in a bid to create an ambience that is a million miles away from the war they live. Despite his outward displeasure at his brother's eagerness to behave like the humans, Sunstreaker silently encourages Sideswipe through their bond.

Sunstreaker can feel the weight of his crimson twins' spark, is aware of how his brother practically instructs his frame to move between the mechs littering the rec room. Sideswipe's signature grin however, is plastered on his face, revealing nothing and belying everything. It is expected of Sideswipe, no matter how loathsome he is feeling, how wrenched his spark is, all of which everyone but Sunstreaker is oblivious to, that he get up and sing; and Sideswipe does not like to disappoint his fans.

Cheers follow the front liner as he takes his position behind the mic…giant sentient robot sized and something that Wheeljack succeeded in not blowing up as he built it…before a hush settles over the room, 'bots waiting to see what provocative and suggestive track, and accompanying moves, the front liner has for them this time.

Sideswipe's comm. line crackles into life, Blaster's signature requesting connection. /You sure 'bout this Sides? Not your usual style, not karaoke style if yer ask me./

With his smile less prominent now, Sideswipe nods at the communications officer. /I'm sure./ He replies as he resets his vocaliser in order to address the crew. "Tonight I thought we'd try something a little diff'rent." Sideswipe avoids Sunstreaker's questioning gaze, in fact he avoids all stares, busying himself with faffing about with the mic stand, adjusting and readjusting.

Suddenly an industrial sounding beat with an electronic harmony fills the quiet room and mechs look vacuously at one another as they try to figure out the song. With the intro continuing, Blaster sends out a data packet containing the track info while Sideswipe, uncharacteristically quiet, focuses his optics on the floor as he waits for his cue…

"Take me down to the river bend..." As always, the front liner's timing is faultless when the intro segues into the first chorus. "Take me down to the fighting end. Wash the poison from off my skin. Show me how to be whole again"

As the words tumble from Sideswipe's vocaliser, Autobots shift in their seats, not quite sure what to make of the mech's performance, or choice of song. Although it is not really the song they focus on, but the subdued show from the exhibitionist. It is unexpected to say the least and it unsettles the crew. Whereas normally Sideswipe would own the stage, strutting around in an exaggerated mimic of the artists who performed these songs, his movements lewd and suggestive, this time his powerful frame barely moves while lethal fingers curl around the mic and stand in an iron tight grip; almost as though he has never done this before.

With the closing words of the first verse, Sideswipe finally raises his optics from the ground and surveys his audience. He can see they are unsure of his choice of track but for once, he does not care. Tonight is not about the performance, or courting their cheers. Tonight is about reaching out, sending a message in the hope that a certain someone is actually listening to him.

Listening to his twin, Sunstreaker watches with an unyielding stare; the surety in the feeling he has that if he were to let Sideswipe out of his sight, he may just shatter, keeps the golden twin fixated on his brother. In his processer an image materialises, a ghost of an image he has seen time and time again with his own optics. It is of Sideswipe, sluicing his frame with an unrestrained vigour that causes Sunstreaker to wince as silvery streaks appear on his plating, when colour nanites are destroyed in Sideswipe's bid to clean off what is not always physically there. The flinched reaction is not for the damage that Sideswipe inflicts on his frame at these times, but it is for the drive behind those blemishes, the reason why Sideswipe inflicts these abrasions on himself. Sunstreaker hears his twins' call for help in the words he sings, and he knows exactly whom it is he seeks that help from.

The very image which forms in Sunstreaker's processor is ubiquitous in Sideswipe's own, it never dissolves, it only diminishes into the background for a short time, but it is always there, reminding Sideswipe of who he was, of who he always will be, and the front liner feels his past is taunting him as it threatens to crush him into the oblivion that his spark teeters on the edge of. Sideswipe knows that no matter what, his twin will never leave him alone, regardless of the demons which also plague Sunstreaker, but alone Sunstreaker cannot heal him. For too long Sideswipe has denied this notion, deeply burying the idea of letting someone else in on his despair, but now Sideswipe feels he is suffocating, that his spark is becoming more and more constricted as the cycles pass.

At the back of the rec room, a set of optics are pinned on the singing Autobot. The expression upon this mech's face is impassive as he tunes out of the murmured chatter around him while he focuses solely on Sideswipe, and the words that pour from him. He knows, this mech at the back of the crowd, that all is not as it seems, and he can sense that something has shifted within Sideswipe. It is not a visible change, although Sideswipe's near moroseness, his lack of ostentation, should be screaming all sorts at the watching mechs, if they would just look.

Despite the uncomfortable energy that mills around his audience, Sideswipe continues, momentarily lost within himself. "Fly me up on a silver wing. Past the black where the sirens sing. Warm me up in a nova's glow. And drop me down to the dream below."

Sideswipe is fully aware that he will never be free of what he has seen and done, but this does not stop him craving redemption. He has a very distant memory of what he was like before the war, before the rings even, and he longs to be that mech again, whoever he was. He is sick of the guise he wears, sick of behaving the fool when all he wishes to do is crawl into a dark corner, and weep away his pain and guilt. The front liner on time prays to their God, asking for release from this life, requesting the peace that he sometimes feels only the Well of Sparks can offer him; but his prayers go unanswered. Sideswipe says that he no longer believes in Primus, this however does not stop him, in his weaker moments, offering those prayers again in the hope that one cycle, his release will come.

Sunstreaker's spark breaks, and not for the first time. Every time a part of Sideswipe dies, a part of Sunstreaker does too, and he worries for his brother's sanity, and for his spark. Like Sideswipe, Sunstreaker's recollection of their pre-gladiator selves is very murky, but he remembers that they lived simple, happy lives and what he would not give for that life again. He too prays to Primus, but not for himself, for his twin; although there are selfish undertones to his calls for help. He feels Sideswipe's desire to be free, but Sunstreaker has no wish to let him go, he cannot let him go, so to their so called God he begs for the redemption Sideswipe craves. But just like his twin, his pleas go unheeded, so alone he consoles his other half, alone he pushes Sideswipe to live the life they have been dealt.

Ratchet finds himself moving through the crowd, only pausing when he arrives at Sunstreaker's side, his optics never leaving Sideswipe. He hears the words, the desperation to hang onto something that was lost so long ago, and guilt swamps the medic. He should have known how broken this mech truly is. He is duty bound to care for others and he concedes that he has failed in this quest, letting the twins down in ways that are unforgivable. Ratchet is, in his own failure, a hypocrite. It is easy to scorn others for not recognising the truth, for not seeing the real Sideswipe, but he is just as shallow, just as contemptuous, never truly peeking beyond their metaphorical armour, in spite of his feelings for them. But he is listening now. Ratchet is finally seeing the crack that threatens to break Sideswipe and the medic knows that the message is for him, and not only because of the way Sideswipe's optics track him through the crowd, but because his spark tells him.

With dark optics following the medic as he traverses the crowd, Sideswipe focuses on Ratchet, all others in the room fading into the background. His words, not his own yet expressing so much of what he feels, are for Ratchet and he no longer cares who else is listening. " 'Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass. Hardly anything there for you to see. For you to see."

Sideswipe barely hides the desolation in his voice. Despite his cry for help he believes that there is no hope for him, but still he tries. If he has to live this life, if Primus will not grant him his release, then he needs to find the light at the end of the tunnel, before the darkness crushes him. Regardless of the presence he commands amongst his comrades, he feels invisible, that he is nothing more than a movement in the corner of an optic, there, but never truly seen.

Sunstreaker allows himself to break his gaze from his twin to look at the medic, but he retains his hold through their bond. He does not bother to mask the pain of his own failure, and he is not sure that he could do so if he wanted to. Instead he silently pleads to Ratchet, his optics beseeching his help. Sunstreaker tries to speak but a red hand rests on his arm, silencing him, and relief floods the golden twin. Ratchet hears.

Ratchet feels Sunstreaker's worry for Sideswipe, can almost taste his desperation and his spark twists ferociously. He loves these two, deeply, but he wonders what kind of love allows him to leave them to suffocate in their pain. The medic's energy field reaches out, brushing the edge of Sunstreaker's, and he almost recoils in the misery he feels there.

Words mingle with the music as another verse begins. "Bring me home in a blinding dream. Through the secrets that I have seen. Wash the sorrow from off my skin. And sh…show me how to be whole again" Sideswipe's vocaliser cracks, his emotion finally dominating him.

Sunstreaker already moves swiftly between the scattered tables, joining his twin under the spotlight. The crimson twin gives his brother a look of gratitude but his optics are haunted. Between them both they have seen so much death, have inflicted it in abundance, and even though they know that there will be more death to be born at their hands, sorrow and regret engulfs them both. Sunstreaker however, stands steady beside his twin, the rock he becomes when Sideswipe needs him. ~It'll be okay.~ Sunstreaker silently tells Sideswipe. ~He hears you.~

In truth, Sunstreaker has no idea if it will be okay, if Ratchet can be the tower of strength they need, but he has to believe it, for both Sideswipe and himself.

" 'Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass..." Startled looks fall on the front liner twins; Sunstreaker never sings and suddenly, they hold the attention of every mech in the room, but still they only sing for one. "Hardly anything there for you to see. For you to see."

For the first time Sunstreaker catches a glimpse of the light that Sideswipe seeks, the light at the end of the very long and very dark tunnel which is their lives. Sideswipe feels Sunstreaker's relief, feeding greedily off his hope. He watches Ratchet as the medic watches them, and he feels some semblance of the tranquillity he searches for. However Sideswipe is not naive, he understands that this is only the first step in many, one that he may not ever get past, but with Sunstreaker and Ratchet by his side, more than anything he wishes to try.

Ratchet believes he can see the tiniest flicker of hope in the twins as they sing together, leaning into one another physically and he imagines, mentally, and although he is aware that this hope can so very easily be shattered as the crack that Sideswipe tells him about, widens, that hope also has the potential to be fanned into something much more exponential.

" 'Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass. Hardly anything else I need to be." Sunstreaker pulls his twin in closer. " 'Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass…" And as the final words fade away, the mood in the rec room becomes sober. It is evident that most have no clue about what is going on while a stilted round of applause punctuates the heavy air.

For a moment, even with Sunstreaker's encouragement, Sideswipe refuses to let go of the mic, afraid that if he does he will fall into that oblivion that threatens to engulf him, but it is not long before the audience is calling for the next singer; any thrall the twins have over them, broken.

This is Ratchet's cue to leave. His spark is now heavy with the burden he lays on it, but the weight that encumbers it is nothing compared to the load the twins carry in theirs, so Ratchet pushes his feelings, his shame at failing them, aside and instead of heading for his med bay, he makes his way towards their quarters. Using his officer's override code he enters their sanctuary and although not quite sure of his next move, he waits for the twins.

~Fin~