Title: And Things We Lost
Disclaimer: I, in no way, shape, or form, own the Transformers© franchise or the characters it contains. All publicly recognizable characters are copyrighted to Hasbro, and the respective artists/writers/et cetera. No infringement intended.
Fandom: Transformers
Continuity: G1 (Generation One), sequel to 'These Games We Play'.
Characters: Skywarp, Thundercracker
Summary: It was just a reality of war, unspoken law of the battle zone. Mechs fell off to the wayside, were left, were killed; slag happened. You got up, moved on, or stayed down.
Warnings: None
Author's Note: Kind of wanting to expand on this idea. Maybe. Dunno. Criticism encouraged, technical points preferable. Silly title is silly.
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It wasn't a big deal. It was just a reality of war, unspoken law of the battle zone. Mechs fell off to the wayside, were left, were killed; slag happened. You got up, moved on, or stayed down; if a supposedly scrapped comrade came back from presumed death, you slapped him on the back, handed him his rations, and blasted for the nearest bunker fast as you could.
It wasn't that big of a deal. But it was starting to turn into one.
"Hey, it's good to have you back."
"Yeah," Thundercracker grunted, still staring at his new canopy. Idly, he prodded at the faux-glass, as if testing its resistance, fingertips clacking and clicking against the concave surface. The impromptu medical center hummed with machinery, so much louder than it had any right to be in the tense silence. And still Thundercracker lay there, like he was still half-aware, still being dragged out by his thrusters from the abandoned ruin. He shouldn't have even lived through the collapse, should have been discovered and destroyed by the ragtag Autobot forces still at large in the city. But he had survived, had held on to life with a tenacity only a Decepticon could manage, and still it didn't seem enough for him. Slagging hangar queen. Had no right to be like this, really.
"Hasn't been the same without ya. I got your rations," Skywarp held up the cube – smaller than what they were used to, but surely they'd find more soon, just after this last push – and crooked up one side of his mouth. "Thought you could use it. And I didn't even siphon any off." He pushed it out toward Thundercracker, an offering and more besides, grin faltering slightly.
Thundercracker continued to blankly stare at his own canopy, like it wasn't exactly the same as it had been before, like something had changed when it hadn't.
"Hm."
Skywarp glanced aside, vaguely considering warping out then and there to deal with the fallout later.
Slag and scrap it. "So uh. So I got us the nice 'n' easy patrol. Just a hop around the main depot." Primus, couldn't he just say something? He was trying, he was trying so hard, but if Thundercracker didn't give him something to go off of soon he'd—
"—I understand what you did, 'Warp. It's what any of us woulda done." Thundercracker said quietly, at last stopping his self examination. He looked up at the ceiling – sagging in the middle and cracked, but still serviceable – and shrugged. "I don't hold it against ya."
"Yeah," Skywarp agreed, perhaps half a second too quickly. "Sure."
Thundercracker nodded absently, and slid off the repair plinth. Clapped Skywarp solidly on the side of his intake, managing a half grin. "It's good to be back. See you in a cycle."
"Yeah." Skywarp said, watching Thundercracker duck out, energon still clasped in his hand. "See you then."
He had the nagging suspicion that what he had really meant was I wouldn't have left you.
