Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers
Hasbro owns Transformers
As always thank you so very much for your feedback! Enjoy.
Chapter 2 Break It Down
Present
Earth
Something was coiling tight around his chest. Around his spark as he recharged. He tossed and turned muttering Cybertronian under his breath.
His chest was becoming tighter and tighter. Spark casing clutching in on itself. Vents seized and gave up.
And when the pain was too much to bear, Sunstreaker snapped out of recharge with a startled yell. He jumped from his berth, Cybertronian twin blades at the ready. His chest was heaving, now functioning vents, trying to cool his overheating systems.
With a strangled sound Sunstreaker clutched his chest plates and fell to his knees.
He parted his lips to allow more air into his systems.
The golden twin tried to collect himself but any sort of effort did not seem to ease the pain. He bowed his helm quieting his breathing and sounds of discomfort. He had to calm down. He had to control his hectic mind. His cluttering mind. With a smooth hiss the blades snapped back into place hidden into his forearms. He sat against his berth placing his hands on his helm.
For the past months, memories of the distant past have been haunting the mech. Old memories from the gladiatorial rings and the times where his brother was alive and by his side. When he was whole and one. When he wasn't broken but at the same time shattered. When his greed and lust for revenge was truly his downfall. His own destruction.
Tonight it was the same memories as the other night and the night before that night. Sunstreaker allowed himself to let out a choked sob. Only in the dark, alone and in the quiet would he let himself come undone. He pulled his hands in front of himself clutching the delicate and clawed hands.
He pulled his legs closer to his body and buried his helm into his knees. "Primus..." He whispered hoarsely shoving away the sobs he wanted to let out. He buried those feelings away.
A shudder went up his spinal strut as the dormant bond was accidentally opened and flowing freely. He scrambled to close it and block it off but in that moment he found Felicity once again. Sleeping soundlessly and feeling his pain. He quickly pulled the pain back and pushed it away in the back of his mind as he caressed Felicity's mind with gentle calming emotions.
A shaky sigh left his mouth as he reluctantly backed away, ripping himself from her, and closed off the bond once again. He placed his helm back onto his berth, blue optics glowing in the dark gently.
He missed her. So very, very, much. Three years in Cybetronian life was nothing. A blink of an eye as the humans said. A human lifetime was also a blink of an optic. But why did it feel so long?
Why so long...?
A bang on his quarter's door made him jump in place. "Sunstreaker!" Ironhide called from the other side.
Sunstreaker clenched his jaw and scrubbed his hands down his face plate. It was his shift already? He didn't know. He never bothered to check his chronometer anymore. On shaky peds he stood up and stretched out his tired and sore limbs from many restless nights and recharge cycles.
He pressed the door panel and it slid into the wall revealing Ironhide in the hallway in his massive burly glory.
Sunstreaker shuttered his optics a few more times and stood straighter. He looked at the mech in the optic. "I was up already."
Ironhide tilted his helm at the golden twin in what was worry. "Sunstreaker?"
The said mech clenched his hands into fists. "I'm fine." He snapped. He wasn't. He held his frame with an invisible heavy weight. His finish wasn't being kept up to his status quo. He was slowing down. He would soon stop altogether and snap. Just like he always did.
He had been getting along with the other Autobots but he mostly kept himself distant. He only communicated enough to understand what missions he went on and what he had to do. The only mech he spoke to on an almost daily basis was Dino. A swordsman he got along with, with small talk. And Ratchet. He always spoke to Ratchet.
But even if he did speak to the others, no one knew of his inner struggle with the bond, memories from his gladiatorial days, and or even Felicity. His mind was on her whenever his mind decided to.
"Sunstreaker!"
The mech jumped turning to face the black weapon's specialist. "What?" He growled.
"I was talking to you." Ironhide walked up to the golden mech, lips pursed, and one good optic boring into his own.
Sunstreaker huffed. "Well, spit it out."
Ironhide narrowed his optic. "Don't get snappy with me, little goldenrod. I said do you even know why I woke you up?" He crossed his arms and waited for a pair of humans walking down the hall to pass. They did not need to hear what was being discussed.
Sunstreaker looked around and finally widened his optics. It was still night. No one was up at this hour. It wasn't even... "You..." It wasn't even his shift. Not even close. His chronometer… "Fragging…"
Ironhide's facial expression softened into what was pity and worry.
It was two in the morning. "It's not even- what is this about!?" The mech immediately became defensive, placing up the walls and angry expression to hide his inner struggle and self.
Ironhide was unaffected by such an expression. "Sunstreaker, I heard you. The screamin'. The Cybertronian…"
Sunstreaker tensed his frame and clenched his hands into fists. "That is none of your business." He didn't want anyone to know of his past. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to relive it. He didn't want to explain it. Not to him... "It's nothing."
Ironhide stepped forward. "Nothing? Kaonite. You were speaking Kaonite. Calling for a medic."
"Enough!" He growled pushing him back. "You know already know, so why are you teasing me? Why did you wake me?"
Ironhide looked up from where the mech had pushed against him and hummed. "You were screaming. You woke up. I am here to offer a distraction or call Ratchet. Either one I'm just doing my job as an Autobot veteran." He made sure to keep his voice level.
Sunstreaker held down a angry whine from his throat and growled pushing past him. "I'm going back to recharge."
Ironhide grabbed him by the arm and spun him back around. "Ratchet's. Now."
"Let go of me." He shook his arm out of the bigger mech's grip and backed away, offended that the mech dared to touch him.
"Don't make me make it an order, mech."
"Leave me alone. I don't need your pity or your help. Ratchet knows already."
Ironhide narrowed his optics losing his patience. "Does he now?"
Sunstreaker was backed into the corner. He had no way out of this. He growled when the higher ranked mech gave the order. All he could do was reluctantly and unwillingly obey.
"How long have these night terrors been persisting, Sunstreaker?"
"Not for long..."
"You and I both know that I've know you for a long time. And I know when you lie."
Sunstreaker growled. "A month."
"A month?" He echoed. "About what?"
"Back...about the Autobots, before Sideswipe died, when he died." He bit.
"And why now?"
Sunstreaker shrugged.
Ratchet sighed shaking his helm.
Sunstreaker was sitting on the berth hands clasped in his lap, expression dead and tired. "I see her. I see him. Everything. So clear and vivid. Why now…I don't know." He looked up to Ratchet. His long time mentor. Model. The only mech that reminded him of the tough love he received from Master so long, long, ago.
"I want them gone, Ratchet."
He shook him helm. "You know I can't do that. Your processor is triggering these memories for a reason." He crossed his arms. "Unlike humans, our 'dreams' are not meant to make sense of the real world but to de-clutter, process smoother, to store and restore, and to organize.
Sunstreaker scrubbed his hands down his faceplate in exasperation. "What could have triggered the process?"
"I am not sure. You have to find that yourself."
Sunstreaker growled. A sound that came from deep within his throat. "That is why I am here. Please." He said. "Anything to help make them go away."
Ratchet pursed his lips looking closely at the mech before him. "You always thought I was a miracle worker and not just a simple medic. Lay down."
Sunstreaker did as he was told laying down on the berth and offlining his optics in a sort of relief. "I trust you. That is why I am asking you to do something. Dig around my helm. Take processing units out. I don't care."
Ratchet placed his hands on his hips. "You act as if I am. Clueless you are, fragger." He easily hooked up a line to the mech's neck and turned towards the computer digging through his helm. "I will simply run a full processor scan but until then-." He pressed one last key on the screen and turned to him. "Lights out."
Sunstreaker's frame slowly went limp as he fell into a light stasis. Only then did Ratchet start to truly 'dig' through his processor. It took hours, sifting through many parts of the Cybertronian 'brain'. But what he found was nothing that was meant to be found. His so called dreams were the least of his worries. A string of code that was long ago imbedded and dormant was now very well active and responding to an outside source.
The medic shook his helm. "Now what the frag is this?" He narrowed his optics digging into the string of data that seemed so harshly imbedded within the twin's mind interrupting other processing.
The line of data was collected. "Tracking codes?" He backed away from the screen and looked back at the peaceful mech on the berth.
"Where the frag did you get these, mech?" He shook his helm. "Knowing you, I would have an idea." He gathered the remaining strings of data and started breaking them down. Bit by bit they fragmented and were erased without a hitch. He looked back at Sunstreaker who was unaffected by the deletion of such a string of data and released a vent of relief.
He initiated a manual program to wake the mech. He turned to him tapping his forehelm. "Wake up, Sunshine."
The mech onlined his optics. Dim and still so very tired. He raised his hand and rubbed his helm. "I don't feel any different." He rumbled.
"You're not supposed to, idiot."
Sunstreaker flicked his optics up to him and grumbled. "Did you find anything?"
"A string of data. A tracking code. Perhaps imbedded into your processor when you took part in the gladiatorial rings. It was active when I found it. It was interrupting your subconscious processing."
Ratchet paused and then elaborated. "The recharge kind of subconscious processing."
Sunstreaker sagged his shoulders in relief. "So these memories? Will they stop now?"
Ratchet hummed. "They should but I want you to come back to me if they continue. Maybe this isn't a matter of body over mind but mind over body." He said raising an optic ridge in a knowing manner.
The golden mech waved him off dismissively as he stepped off of the berth. "Thank you Ratchet. I will."
"I mean it, Sunstreaker." He said turning towards him as he left the medical bay.
Sunstreaker waved him off with a lazy salute of sorts. The medic shook his helm before turning to return to his work.
But as Sunstreaker walked back to his quarters the string of data that Ratchet had deleted, slowly materialized back into existence, rebuilding off of the small bit of data that he had skipped over. Soon it fully formed back into its original space. It remained active.
Felicity sat in the café where her relationship with Sunstreaker took flight and bloomed into something so beautiful and wonderful. How she managed to slowly worm her way through into the spark of such a closed off mech. How her life truly changed for the better.
She took another sip of her coffee watching as another car drove by, its headlight illuminating the hazy café for a moment before disappearing down the road. Felicity looked back down at her cellphone for the fifth time. She wanted to cry her heart out.
She had just spoken to her parents. Her parents that she promised she would help get them out of welfare and the projects once she earned money off of her artwork. She had plenty of money now. Plenty to share with her parents.
Well.
Felicity placed her face in her hands.
Selfish.
Worthless
Unrealistic.
That's what they called her. They had become something else. They had become selfish, grimy, lazy people. The same people who taught her to be the exact opposite. The selfishness of receiving money without earning it had turned them bitter. Cruel and mean. Everything they had was served on a silver corrupted platter for them.
"I can help you."
"What could you do? You always had your head stuck in your dreams."
"They came true! I-."
The laugh her mother had was corrupted with smoked cigarettes. "Bullshit, Felicity. Call us back when your 'dream money' is worth something to us."
She never thought the sound of a phone hanging up could slice her heart in two.
The conversation burned in her head. Her mother's words were searing and hot as she repeated them over and over. They were venom breaking her long building self-esteem down so slowly. She never wanted to speak to them again. Even though she had all that she wanted and her dreams came true, her parents wanted nothing to do with it. They weren't proud. They were jealous. Of their own daughter.
For a moment the woman thanked Primus or God, which ever would listen at the moment, that she was sitting in the corner where no one really saw the tears starting to form in her eyes. Her shoulders quivered as she tried to keep quiet and not draw her attention.
Sunstreaker.
She hiccuped. She suddenly missed him and so desperately wanted him back in her life. He was the only one who supported her. She would think about him and his wonderful smile. His rare wonderful smile she missed so much. His rumbling voice that soothed her out of her anxiety attacks and eased her mind somewhere soft and calm.
Sunstreaker.
She looked back up at the table. She would always remember where they sat. She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. Something rose up in her chest. A calling of sort. Was it just recalling that wonderful moment that eased her mind? Or was it something else? It was careful and so hesitant. But as soon as she imagined she was answering it, her phone rang.
