Hi everyone!
Thanks to those who read/reviewed!
I'm pretty awful at like, bot anatomy. So I'm not gonna get all creative with mechanical synonyms for stuff like, 'servos' instead of 'hands' or whatever. It confuses me.
I would just like to say that I got a 4 in creative writing class. Which is given out rarely and means you should instantly apply to the competitive program. YES!
Enjoy!
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Ratchet can't think straight. Can't think anything, beyond the single-minded need to find out, find him. He barely registers the fact that the Ark II is a carbon copy of the original Ark, because it doesn't feel like home. Not yet.
"You," he barks at the first bot he sees, a little winged thing that jumps at his shout. "Where's-" he almost chokes on his name, dormant for so long, "where's Wheeljack?"
"I- I-" the bot quavers under his gaze, "I'm new, I don't know everyone's names," he all-but wails. "I'm sorry!"
"I don't want to hear about your miserable inadequacies," Ratchet glares, nearly making the bot burst into hysterics. "I need to find the chief engineer. Where is he?"
"Um. Um. The medbay, I think. He does medic-y things, until the medic gets here–"
"Stop rambling. Thank you," Ratchet says curtly, and the bot practically faints. As it is, he disappears so quickly Ratchet isn't sure he ever saw the bot move. He ignores this, finds his way to the medbay, a path that feels as familiar as his own sparkbeat. He hesitates before the door, but there's no conceivable way to prepare himself for what might – or might not – be on the other side. He opens the door.
There's only one bot in the medbay. Ratchet forces his intakes to stabilize, something in him reeling. He pauses. Breathes.
"Where's Wheeljack?" he asks shakily. The bot looks up, cool blue paint where there should have been silver, lithe where there should have been broadness, not the right bot at all. It's all wrong, everything. Him, the medbay, and – there's sympathy on his face, and no, it's all wrong –
"He-" the bot's tone is too gentle, too hesitant, "he was killed in battle."
"He's –" everything stops, slams to a halt and just stops, the universe freezing in a moment of sickening shock.
"I'm sorry," the bot murmurs, "he's dead."
It's vaguely strange, that it still feels like the world is ending in this single moment even though it's been over for a long time already. It doesn't make sense.
But, as his spark breaks and burns, the last vestiges of hope that had been saving him every day shattering, it doesn't feel like anything will ever make sense again. How can anything in the world make sense, be right, when some force tore Wheeljack away from him like this? How can anything make sense, when it didn't take him too?
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In space, there is no morning. Hours pass mechanically, the sun a disjointed memory. Regardless, Sunstreaker waits until it would have been morning before informing Sideswipe of his plan. He's already awake when Sideswipe comes out of recharge, yawning and frowning when he finds that Sunstreaker has already left their berth.
"What're you doing?" Sideswipe calls over. Sunstreaker glances back at him.
"The Ark's flightplan goes by most of the temporary settlement planets," he says. "So we'll be able to look there."
"Okay," Sideswipe's tone is laden with confusion, "so what's the problem with that?"
"I didn't say there was a problem."
"Yes, you did."
"No I didn't."
"You did."
"I think I'd know, Swipe," Susntreaker nearly snaps. Sideswipe holds up his hands.
"And I think I'm not stupid, Sunny. You said we'll be able to look there with this- this tone. And I kind of get it by now."
"Whatever," Sunstreaker growls.
"So? The problem?"
"The problem," Sunstreaker spits through clenched teeth, "is that we aren't scheduled to land on any of these planets, of course. We're going to have to ask Optimus's permission."
"Oh."
"Yeah." Sunstreaker glares down at the flightplan coordinates on the datapad in his hand.
"He's – he's not holding anything against you, Sun. He knows what happened now."
"So?" Sunstreaker turns to glare at Sideswipe, who looks back unflinchingly, "that doesn't change the fact that he still believed I would betray everyone like that- including you! He thinks I would do that to you, and he believed that, and I'm not about to forgive him for that. And- and telling him we need to do this, because I fucked up and- and betrayed our- our-" he cuts off abruptly, drawing in a shaky intake.
"Sunny," Sideswipe says softly, "he's not going to say we shouldn't be looking for them." Sunstreaker just shakes his head, doesn't say anything and walks out the door.
Optimus is in his office already. His work schedule seems to encompass something like the entire day; Sunstreaker had half-hoped he wouldn't be available just yet. When he knocks on the door, though, Optimus's 'come in' is immediate.
"Sunstreaker," Optimus sounds close to surprised when Sunstreaker walks in. He pushes aside the stack of datefiles he had been reading, beckons him in.
"I saw our flightplan," Sunstreaker says, gaze fixed on the sharp corner of Optimus's desk, "would we be able to land on the Autobot settlement planets?"
"Why would we need to?" Optimus's tone is careful, delicate; Sunstreaker hates the implications, the too-late apology in Optimus's every word.
"Sideswipe and I- we're- we're looking for- something. That might be on one of those planets."
"I'm afraid there would have to be a very significant need to do so-" he begins.
"There is," Sunstreaker snaps, still determinedly avoiding Optimus's gaze, "when –" he hesitates, hates himself for the tremble in his voice, "when I wasn't with Sideswipe, I- I had our- our sparklings." He raises his gaze reluctantly, only to see the barely-hidden shock on Optimus's face. "I gave them up. Sideswipe never saw them, never- never knew about them, until recently. And the bots who had them were killed, so now – now we want them back."
He hates the sympathy. He hates that bots feel bad for him for having done this treacherous betrayal of two of the most innocent bots in any universe, of his own sparkmate. The few bots who know – Sideswipe, the medic who had crafted the twins, Foria and Forger and now Optimus – every single one had expressed sympathy, felt the revolting need to feel sorry for him, as if he was the one who deserved anything like kindness after what he'd done. Sunstreaker could never bring himself to feel sorry for himself, never – everything he had, all the pain and guilt and sorrow, was for the sparklings he abandoned and for Sideswipe, who had never been given even the chance to meet them.
"I didn't know," Optimus says softly.
"I don't want sympathy," Sunstreaker cuts him off, practically snarling, "I just want to know if we can stop on those planets so we can – can try to –"
"Of course." His tone is still gentle. Sunstreaker manages to choke out something that resembles a thank you and hurries out of the office.
Sideswipe looks relieved when Sunstreaker tells him the news, but it's not a sentiment Sunstreaker shares. It's good, it helps – but in reality, they're no closer to finding the twins.
In reality, all they're going on is the memory of the twins as the only proof that they exist in any far reaches of the universe.
Sunstreaker has always thought the universe feels vast and empty, but now it feels infinite, nothing but crevices and nooks, all hiding something – or, perhaps, insufferably, hiding nothing at all.
The universe has never felt so desolate.
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Hope everyone enjoyed that!
Please review!
Love ya,
Sunshine