This one surprised even me, honestly... It's probably the most symbollic little one shot I've ever written, but I'm only half pleased with it. I have a feeling it needs more, but I don't know exactly what... Ah well, it seemed worth posting, but it's a new level of angst for me. I'll leave it up to you all to decide how well I did.
She needed to get out.
The nightmare was back, and she needed to escape, it didn't matter how.
The rest of the base was silent, her fellow teammates had long since settled down for recharge. She almost envied them. They had all seen their fair share of horrors, suffered their own losses, there wasn't a single Cybertronian left alive who hadn't.
But her scars were different... They weren't the product of the unpredictable hand of fate, they were her fault. She could have stopped it, could have saved him... but she didn't, she had been too weak. Perhaps that was why it still haunted her. The others could live on knowing they had at least done their best, that they had given it their all, but she couldn't.
Tailgate...
It was more than a name now, more than a face, more than a terrible memory... it was the embodiment of her greatest failure.
She held her helm in her hands, fighting back the memories that threatened to consume her. Flashes of his death sprang unbidden to her optics, refusing to allow her a moments peace, determined to haunt her for eternity. Transforming with as little noise as possible, she slipped out the entrance and into the desert, keeping her engine low to minimize the chance of being detected. She needed to get away from the others, from the war, from everything, if only for a moment...
She didn't know she had been seen.
It was raining. Something she had only seen once before in the few months she had been on this alien planet. It had seemed so odd yet beautiful at the time, to have so much water that it literally fell unbidden from the sky. That had only been a light shower, this was a thunderstorm. Lightning crackled across the pitch black sky in brilliant white streaks, bringing the desert to life with momentary flashes of unnatural light. Thunder boomed its response across the land, rolling waves of sound echoing between canyons and plateaus. The pounding of rainwater on the hard, barren earth added the final touch, the flowing water collecting into vast, deep puddles that stretched across the landscape.
It was euphoric.
She tried to lose herself in the symphony of the storm, roaring her engine as she sped over the drenched earth roads, throwing back waves of mud and water in her wake. Cool rainwater drummed against her metal frame, running in rivulets down her armor before being blown back by her speed. The feelings were overwhelming.
But still she could not forget.
His face, his voice, his death. The slice of the Decepticons talons, the spattering of energon on the walls, his one final gasp before death... It was all still so clear. Forcing herself to go faster, she revved her powerful engine, uncaring of the streaks of mud and filth that were thrown back onto her frame. She barely took notice of the road as she hit new and dangerous speeds, bumping and jerking as she slipped on and off the beaten track. She knew it was dangerous, that it was reckless, but she didn't care.
All she needed was a moment to be free. Was that so much to ask?
Apparently it was.
In her thoughtless state, all it took was her front tire clipping a slight dent in the road, and she lost control. With a cry of surprise, she was sent flying, instinctively transforming back to her bipedal form to help absorb the blow. She collided with the soaked earth at well over 50 miles an hour, her momentum carrying her painfully over several hundred yards of rock and muck.
She finally slid to a stop, her entire body covered in scrapes and dents from the force of her crash. A rough gash had been torn in the armor on her leg, revealing several broken wires, crackling and sparking in protest against the rain. Energon, glowing with a faint light in the dim conditions, pooled beneath the open wound. Trembling from exertion, she allowed herself to lay in the mud, faceplate resting against the earth, processor barely registering the pain or the rain that continued to drum against her plates, washing away the grime that stuck to her armor.
She clenched one servo into a tight fist, letting out an anguished cry as she slammed it into the earth. Raindrops running down her faceplate gave the impression of the tears that she tried so hard to stop. So many eons of holding back the pain needed to end. She was done, tired, and she needed release. But she couldn't escape, couldn't free herself from her own prison.
Why? Why couldn't she have been stronger? Why couldn't she save him?
"TAILGATE!" she screamed out her pain and anguish at the thundering heavens, her vocal processors straining to the near breaking point.
The tears finally fell.
She was a failure.
Her partner was dead, because of her.
"I'm s-sorry... I'm so-so sorry... Tailgate..." she let out all of her pain. She had given up on trying to run, trying to fight, trying to forget... There was nothing left of her worth saving.
"Arcee?" a voice, faint and familiar, broke through the storm.
She lifted her helm, staring off into the grey mist of the rain. A familiar silhouette approached.
"Arcee?"
The rain continued, but the storm grew silent.
"C-Cliff?" she rasped, just faintly enough for him to hear. He stepped from the mists, his bright red finish streaked with almost as much mud as her own. His normally confident optics were wide with concern at her beaten state, Without hesitation, he went down on one knee, bringing himself to her level.
"Cee... I'm... I'm sorry..." gently as he could, he slipped one servo beneath her frame, lifting her gingerly off the ground. Her aching body protested against the motion, but she gave no outward sign of the pain, staring wordlessly at his sad faceplate, seeing the regret in his optics. "I saw you leave..." he explained, optics glancing over her for any sign of a severe injury. They stopped at the tear in her leg, which still sparked painfully in the rain and was trickling a thin trail of energon. He was no medic, but he knew from experience that she would be unable to walk, or transform, with such an injury. "I should have been faster..."
Even by the time she was lifted off the muck and into his powerful servos, Arcee still hadn't quite gotten a hold on the turn of events. One moment she had been alone, tossed about by the storm, content to accept that she was nothing more than a lost cause.
And now here he was, and everything was different.
The rain continued to pour, washing the grime off them both as he carried her back, silent and unquestioning. She looked into his optics, and she could see pain, regret for not managing to stop her before this had happened. It was then she realized it. He was more than a partner.
He was her salvation.
The one who could look past the barriers she put around herself every day, the one who could go beyond her seemingly fearless demeanor and see the pain that dwelled beneath, the one who could give her what she had needed all along.
A second chance.
Another chance to believe in herself, in others, in life.
As they stepped back into the base and out of the rain, she allowed herself to lean more fully into his servos. Feelings of cold and pain filled her, but it was almost a blissful relief compared to the numbness she had once felt.
"I can take you back to your quarters..." he offered, still not questioning of her reason for having left.
"Thank you..." was all she could manage, knowing that, come morning, explanations would be required for her current condition. But she no longer cared, nor felt afraid of revealing her weakness.
With Cliff at her side, she knew she never needed to be afraid again.
...Cause I totally ship these two. :3