Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers.
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chapter seven
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Maybe there's a God above
But all I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
It's not a cry you can hear at night
It's not somebody who has seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
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Black. Big and dark and scary. Where am I? Where is opiluk? I thought I was with him just a moment ago!
There is no tug here. Only hurt and black and pain pain pain.
Bright colors flashing everywhere, and I am scared. Where are the tugs? I can't feel them anymore! Panic is everywhere, hurt and pain everywhere, and no opiluk or daniluk.
I'm scared.
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Mirage wasn't exactly expecting to be onlined from recharge by a squirming, whimpering sparkling on his chassis, but the mech instinctively onlined all of his systems and flared out his sensors. Unfortunately, given that he was forced to be in his alternate-mode for the plane ride to their new base, there was little room for him to physically attempt to comfort the femme.
Instead, he turned on the speakers in his alt-mode and quickly found some music that he'd found over the last several days that proved to calm the femmeling down when she was distressed. Something that was called 'piano music': it was quite soothing, and the red mech had had quite the time downloading the information of the instrument into his files to peruse over later.
There was nothing that he could tell that was threatening in any form around his vehicle mode, but then again, given the cargo that said alt-mode was carrying, he was still attempting to scratch the surface of the femmeling and her memory files.
"Shhhhh…" he soothed, clicking softly in Cybertronian in the comforts of the interior of the red vehicle.
The femmeling squirmed, letting out despairing trills for another several moments before quieting, little wings trembling against the leather seats. There was a questioning pull in the back of his mind, fear the first and foremost emotion he picked up on, before the sparkling settled and fell back into recharge, leaving the red mech almost baffled, but not quite.
He'd never had a bond like this before.
At one point, perhaps, if asked, he would have replied to an inquiry that he would have liked to have a sparkling of his own, after the war. Perhaps leave Cybertron and head for a colony, or go back to being the noble that he had been once. Back when he had been much more foolish and naïve to the realities of the worlds and galaxies that surrounded him. And now he had a sparkling of his own.
Not necessarily of his own free will, but that was how it was.
He would never turn it down, either. The creation that had been send to him from Primus was perfect in ways that he couldn't quite explain. But he could instinctively tell that this little femme was still in the woods with her processing capabilities. Ratchet had done a very thorough examination, and had afterwards taken him aside and shown him his findings.
"Mirage, there's not going to be an easy way to say this, but she's…different." Ratchet murmured, glancing over his shoulder joint at the silver femmeling, who was staring back at him with large blue optics. Almost as if she could fully understand what was going on around her.
"What do you mean?" the red mech asked warily, frame stiffening slightly.
"The femmeling- well, her processor's not quite developed the way that most sparklings her approximate age category should be." The green mech vented. "From what I've gathered, her processor is almost ready to upgrade into a Youngling Stage, but considering the stunt in emotional development, coupled with a self-built memory block, she may not ever recover. She went through something, wherever she came from, and it impacted her so badly that her own coding built a block against it."
"What will this mean?"
"At this point, it's hard to tell. Continue getting her the nutrients she needs- I'll mix the correct dosage of minerals in the energon before you leave, and hope for the best."
Mirage was quiet. It was something that made his spark ache. His femmeling had been traumatized to the point where her own, underdeveloped coding had to intervene before damage could be done?
"There's something else you should probably know, just so that you're ready for it. She has partial Seeker coding in her systems. Luckily, it isn't as difficult as some might think to isolate which halves of the coding, so you'll be fairly well prepared. She has the flight coding, which means at some point she'll likely be displaying different behaviours- trying to get to elevated positions, displaying mild aggression depending on varying situations, and no doubt attempting to fly. Whatever you do, do not allow her to try. Her frame is not compatible with flight, and she'll do more damage than good. Am I understood?" Ratchet asked, crossing his arms and fixing the spy with a hard look, blue optics daring him to try and change his mind.
Mirage vented, wishing for another time that this flight was not as long as it was. His frame was beginning to protest the length of being forced to stay in its smaller form, and he wasn't exactly one for small spaces, to be perfectly honest.
.: You are troubled, Mirage. :.
The red mech flinched at the unexpected baritone to flare into life in his processor, then flicked his attention over to the blue and red painted semi at the front of the plane. Mirage vented softly to himself before opening a communications link with the Prime, knowing that sooner or later he would have to explain himself.
.: I am. :. He admitted quietly.
.: I have not seen you much over the last orn, so I do not know how well you are taking to Earth, but I have a feeling that that is not what is troubling you. :.
.: I am pondering the information that Ratchet has given me. I do not quite know how to raise a sparkling, and from what Ratchet's scans have shown, it will not be easy. :. Mirage said carefully.
.: You will not be alone, Mirage. You will have all of our support. :. Optimus replied calmly. .: Ironhide has been a caretaker for several sparklings in the past, and it is no secret that Ratchet has always been one to lend a servo wherever it is needed. Bumblebee will no doubt be eager to introduce himself once he is fully repaired and brought out of medical stasis, as well. :.
Well, when the Prime put it that way, it was fairly easy to see the logic, but at the same time, there were still the unfamiliar emotions that were infiltrating his processor and causing his thoughts to trail off and go in directions that he wouldn't usually consider.
.: And remember to stay calm. :. Optimus added, a sudden hint of humour to his tone. The Prime was well aware of Mirage's….distaste….for most small spaces, and occasionally, if the time was right, he would make a small remark on it. It wasn't out of malice, no, more of an encouragement- a way to bond with the mechs and femmes that served the Autobot cause.
.: I will. Thank you, sir. :.
.: You are most welcome, old friend. :.
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It's quiet. Not a bad quiet like the one that I heard before, but a nice one. This one is filled with some kind of light notes. Not-voices.
The not-voices are good, and I feel opiluk nearby. The tug is still there, and I try to find out if I can ask it if it knows where daniluk is.
Surprise.
The tug doesn't know. I don't know how I can tell, but it's true. The tug doesn't know where daniluk is, and opiluk isn't being any help either.
Grunting, I flick my wings, ignoring the urge to look at them, and curl up on opiluk's interior.
I can wait.