Surprise – I'm still alive. I promise this fic has not been abandoned and while updates will be slow in coming, they will most definitely come.
Thank you to whoever still has this fic in their follows, has reviewed, favorited and to whoever has joined this madness recently.
Italics: Thoughts/Emphasized words
Bold: Bond/Spark talk
"Quotations": Normal speech
-Dash thing- : Comm Links
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Transformers nor any of its affiliates. The only thing I own is my own intellectual property and whatever shit I decide to put the characters through.
But before they could reply, Sunstreaker was already gone.
A lithe golden form moved among the ruins like a spectre, slipping among the remnants of a city long lost to the horrors of war. The haunted streets and broken homes that surrounded the mech seemed to cry out silently, as if wondering where it all went wrong.
Sunstreaker frowned inwardly, still prodding at the blocked bond that connected him to Prowl. The block suddenly gave in and he briefly stumbled in surprise, gyros quickly compensating beneath him. Pausing beneath a dilapidated overhang, the golden warrior focussed inwards, reaching out to his creator. Prowl it seemed, was now asleep, his emotions were muted and despite the sadness that permeated his very being, Sunstreaker could feel his contentment in slumber. So it was true: it had been Primus that Prowl had been speaking with.
Somewhat satisfied that his carrier was safe and asleep, Sunstreaker turned his attention to his bond with his twin.
Sunstreaker! Is everything okay – what's going on, did you find him? Sideswipe's frantic questions fluttered against his half of their spark, pushing and prodding insistently. His brother hadn't left the command deck since Sunstreaker had left the base and instead was making a general nuisance of himself as he paced back and forth where his brother had left him – his surroundings transmitted to Sunstreaker via the bond.
Sideswipe, calm down brother. I haven't found him but I'm nearing IronStar now.. Reach out to him – he's asleep now. Sunstreaker began to pick his way across the ruined cityscape once more – dimly noticing that the structures he passed seemed to get less and less like they had been destroyed. The artist in him took note of the fact that the ruins around him seemed more artful and too perfect to truly be considered damage. Hmm, this must mean I'm getting closer.
After a pause, his twin's awareness came back toward him, spark pulsing in relief. I can feel him. Sunny! I can feel him, he's okay.
I don't know about okay, Sideswipe. The golden twin frowned, smoothly shifting between two large pillars. Something doesn't feel right to me.. I don't know.
Dual feelings of comfort echoed across two bonds to him: one from the other half of his spark and one from the mech that held that spark in his hands for eternity.
Sunstreaker, we must have patience. Prowl is strong: whatever has happened will resolve itself. My love, everything will be all right. Ratchet spoke now, his spark hummed gently for a brief moment before he shifted his focus back to the medbay where he was busy attending to the injured mechs that had only just arrived from yet another patrol gone wrong.
I know… But still. Sire worries me. He's too silent, something must be wrong. Jazz hadn't paid any attention to what had transpired, his own bonds locked down between his creations. Normally, if one of their creators had been in communion, the other would either be aware or with them – and that would've been a different type of block. Instead, Jazz had ignored the whole process and had even thrown the mental equivalent of 'I'm busy' and 'leave me alone' across the bond.
Sideswipe, who currently was alerting those still in the command centre and the rest of the base by default that Prowl had been found and was essentially safe, distractedly and wordlessly agreed.
Shaking himself out of his revery, the golden mech ducked beneath a fallen support strut of a building and straightened to find himself in a small courtyard littered with debris. He had arrived.
He pinged both Ratchet and Sideswipe to tell them and simultaneously reached out with his sensors to interact with the environment around him. An all-encompassing presence reached back and embraced him, surrounded him and made Sunstreaker feel as if he was once more a young child in the embrace of a protector.
Glancing down, Sunstreaker watched as tendrils of something snaked out from the edges of the courtyard and coiled around his position. A brief hum resonated around him and the tendrils abruptly dissipated with a sub-vocal thump.
Where each of the tendrils had rested, a soft glow began to spread across the open space, flowing across the floor to meet one another and spread toward and up the walls surrounding Sunstreaker.
Beneath his wondering gaze, the old ruins transformed themselves into the sharp, clean architecture that dominated the landscape of the Temple as he had always known it. A beautifully carved arch encasing a set of heavy and plain doors rose up in front of him with two matching alcoves on either side, both encased in shadow.
These alcoves were as familiar to Sunstreaker as his famed and familiar weapon, a broadsword was. He could pick out details that had always been there: The worn groove in front of the left alcove, and a similar one in front of the right.
These alcoves were where both Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had spent much time: guarding the doors to the temple.
A ping echoed and an image file flared to the forefront of his processor, and Sunstreaker took a moment to look over it as an overheating mech in the Cybertronian deserts would look at a cube of coolant.
It was an image of the gateway in front of him, from a time long ago. Two forms stood in the alcoves, their positions mirrored. Each rested their arms over the hilt of a broadsword, their metal gleaming softly as the sharp points rested in the grooves that stood as testament to how long and how often these positions were held.
Two mechs glinted dully in the fading light of the photo, twin forms encased half in shadow glinted gold and silver. Between them, a crack of light shone out between the heavy doors that stood slightly open, highlighting the dust motes that were frozen mid-dance in the open air. Their helms pointed downwards, and twin pairs of light blue optics cut through the darkness surrounding the doorway, piercing into the picture file.
This was who they were, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. They were the creations of the two remaining true priests of Primus, the first companions of the original 13 Primes.
They were the nephews of IronStar herself, whose existence was oft considered myth.
They were the sparklings who had played among the pedes of some of the greatest Cybertronians to ever exist. They were the younglings that had learned at the knee-joints of the wisest mechs to live.
They were warriors of the highest caliber; their skills honed and refined to beyond what any warrior of present could accomplish.
They were the Guardians of the temple on the Rust Sea.
They… they just were.
"Welcome home, Sunstreaker."
4 years in the making – the next one won't take as long. Believe me if there's still some trust left in this world.
Read, Review, Converse, Enjoy.
StarOfIron
