Interlude: Angsting Under the Influence
(A/N: Brief flash-forward back to the present here, just to show what some Autobots are going through after the whole Ironhide incident. Contains angst and some snuggles, which are probably incongruous to the main tone of this story; but after the last chapter, I needed to write some hugs. I'm sure most of you won't complain.)
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Prowl had a feeling he would find Sideswipe drinking. Though the lounge was hardly deserted, no one else was sitting near the red twin and he wasn't looking at anybody. He barely glanced up from his cube as Prowl approached.
"You're a fast reader."
Prowl stopped a few steps from him, door wings stiffening uncomfortably. "I... haven't finished it yet," he admitted. "Mind if I sit down?"
Sideswipe gestured to another seat with an inebriated flourish. "Help yourself. Drinks're on me. I think there's a bit left in one of these cubes somewhere." He waved a limp hand over the veritable pile of mostly-empty energon containers scattered over one half of the table. Prowl counted them mentally and couldn't quite hold back a wince.
"How long have you been drinking?"
Sideswipe appeared to give the question some thought, then shrugged. "What time is it? I was drunk when I started writing. Been trying to stay that way since--"
Without another word, Prowl reached out and took the remaining mostly-full cube from Sideswipe's hands, then cleared the empty ones off the table and took a seat next to him. He downed the cube -- relieved to find that, while heavy-grade, it wasn't nearly as strong as Sideswipe usually liked his special brews -- as quickly as possible, for once relieved at the slow burn that spread through his lightning-quick processor. It wasn't nearly enough to get him drunk, but at least the mental numbing properties kicked in fast. And it was better than letting Sideswipe poison himself.
The red twin watched him with a hint of a sardonic smirk. "Yeah, prob'ly a good idea. You're a good cop, Prowl. Always lookin' out for us."
"Sentimentality, from you? You've definitely been drinking too long." In contrast to the words, Prowl's voice was gentle. He put a hand on the younger mech's shoulder as Sideswipe swayed unsteadily. "Perhaps you should go to Ratchet--"
"What if," Sideswipe paused long enough to regain his balance, "what if I told you I was hoping I'd get an excuse to go see my brother?"
Prowl's mouth tightened in sympathy. "I wouldn't really blame you. You two seem to share a bond that... is beyond my comprehension. I didn't fully understand how much you needed each other until--" He stopped, not sure they should go into the subject now, or if Sideswipe was even in a state to.
The red twin shook his head. "S'okay. Mos' people don't really get it. Twins aren't common -- I've only met one other pair, an' they were nothin' like us. Think Sunny 'n me are pretty unique... We've had to be close, you know. We'd be dead. No way in the universe we're that lucky, and tougher mechs than us are dead." His slur was rapidly becoming less pronounced as he spoke. "People ask me why I stick with him -- like that's even a question. I need him, Prowler. He's my everything. I know how that slagging sounds, but it's true, he's the strong one and if it wasn't for him I'D be messed up -- you take him away and I'll-- I'll--"
"Sideswipe, calm down." The mech was beginning to shake; Prowl's hand returned to his shoulder and stayed there. "We're not going to take your brother away. I won't let that happen. What I've read has already given me more than enough to understand Sunstreaker's actions, and I will advocate for him if needed. You're safe, both of you."
Sideswipe's optics met his and for a moment he was still. "You know," he said reflectively, "that is the first time anyone's ever told me that. 'Safe'. I would've laughed if it was anybody but you."
Prowl felt uncomfortable and wanted to look away, aware of the weight of the promise he'd just made and how much trust was riding on that promise. But he kept his gaze steady. "Remember who it was that took a chance on you. I brought you here. You haven't come all this way just to lose everything now. I'll make sure of that."
Without warning he found himself hugged by powerful red arms, while a grown warrior with a reputation for jumping Seekers shook and shivered with his head buried in Prowl's shoulder. Anyone who believed the black-and-white mech incapable of emotion would have been stunned to see Prowl's hands rest gently on Sideswipe's back, his head tilt forward so that his mouth brushed the armored helm. It was a sight for the ages, but luckily, of the few Autobots present to see, none was possessed of quite such tactless indiscretion as to break in on this rare contact. In fact, the scattered crowd around them seemed rather intently focused on their drinks.
"We never wanted this." The words were so soft, Prowl had to strain his audio receivers to catch them. "Never wanted to be like this. I want you to know that before you read the rest."
"Sideswipe, I would be a fool not to know that."
A violent wrench as the younger mech half pulled away, holding Prowl almost at arm's length. "You don't get it. You feel sorry for us. Wait till you see some of the things we've done..."
A chevron touched his forehead, one hand cupping his helm. "You didn't have any choice." Prowl's own voice was strained with emotion barely held in check. He remembered Jazz, groping through recovery, blinded and bitter at the world, clinging to him like Prowl was the last solid object left in the universe -- he couldn't turn his back when somebody needed him. He wasn't a counselor, let alone the therapist these kids needed, but if they wouldn't listen to anybody else...
"Oh, we had a choice," Sideswipe retorted. "We could've died. Neither of us had the courage, though."
"How can you blame yourself for that?" the tactician asked softly, catching the self-recriminating tone. "For wanting to live?"
The red mech looked disgusted. "We're soldiers, Prowl. We risk our lives all the time. We've faced down Megatron, but we couldn't face Clench? COME ON."
"Megatron never branded you, or woke you up screaming. You confronted terror before you'd ever held a gun or received a day of preparation. You weren't soldiers then, Sideswipe -- you were CHILDREN."
The last word was uttered much louder than Prowl intended, carrying above the level of private conversation. In the sudden silence that followed, he could literally hear the echo ringing off the nearest wall. Sideswipe looked as if he'd been shot. He opened his mouth, as if to reply -- but no words ensued. Instead a wave of unprocessed fuel rushed from his tanks, and he turned quickly away from Prowl as several cubes of excessively heavy energon was purged from his system.
When the violent spasms ceased, he remained huddled over the mess he'd made on the floor, only gradually becoming aware that there was a hand on his shoulder. "Knew I should've made my own," he muttered. "That slag never wants to stay down."
Looking at the rather impressive amount, Prowl was inwardly relieved that it was no longer inside Sideswipe. "Can you stand?"
"Ugh... Do I have to? I'm pretty comfortable..."
"Only if you want to see your brother. I'm sure Ratchet would like to have a look at your fuel filters, at the very least."
The medic's name provoked an exaggerated groan. "Maybe I should've written a will... He's never gonna let me leave the repair bay alive."
Nevertheless, at the prospect of visiting Sunstreaker, the red mech roused enough energy to crawl to his feet. Prowl assisted him considerably in the effort, and afterwards made no attempt to remove the red arm that was still draped around his shoulders; after all, Sideswipe was still off-balance. And if the twin warrior leaned into the tactician just a bit more than was necessary for physical support, well -- he was suffering from more than just intoxication.
Besides, escorting him to the repair bay gave Prowl an excuse to put off his reading just a little longer. He had no doubt that the rest of Sideswipe's account would contain more unpleasant surprises.
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AUTHOR'S NOTES
This is not a Prowl/Sideswipe fic. Just in case anyone gets ideas. I know you can't let two robots hug without half the fandom thinking they're an item sometimes.
I'm glad so many people are enjoying this, and thank you all for reviewing. Please keep it up, and be patient with updates, since I'm in school now and it takes up a lot of my computer time.
Also, I skipped reviewer replies last chapter, so I'm making up for it now. Enjoy.
akisawana: THERE. I got it done! With hugs, even! (I wanted more snuggling but Sideswipe decided to get sick on me, so I had to cut it short. I'll keep piling hugs on him every chance I get, though.)
blood shifter: What the twins would like to do to him isn't pretty, but the question is, will they ever get the chance?
Robin Moto: They're at an ideal age, actually. Gammas are mentally complete, unlike betas, but they're still very impressionable and so it's easy to train them. They won't be able to compete with more experienced mechs for some time, but they're certainly not too young to learn the basics of arena fighting.
Sunstreaker: Glad you liked it :) Sunny's vanity is inherent to his nature, but its extreme manifestation -- to the point of obsessiveness -- seems, like his other psychoses, to be the result of his screwed-up life. And yes, they kept giving Sideswipe the same thing, so eventually he did learn to keep it down.
Anhai: You're welcome, and I hope I haven't scarred you for life. Granted, I'm glad I can write anything that provokes such strong reactions from people. As for Clench and Hacksaw, I'm not planning a pretty end for either of them, but you may have to wait a while. Be patient -- we all know the twins won't let them get away with this.
Katrover Swatroad: Thank you. There IS sex in this story, or will be, but it's incidental and doesn't have any real bearing on the plot. I can write smut when I feel like it, but that isn't the main focus here. Besides, I can think of much more disturbing things that ought to be mature-rated than sex.
Balrog Roike: I don't doubt that Decepticon recruits go through something similar, but most of them are volunteers, at least in this. Of course, a lot of them come from similar nasty origins, or possibly even worse than anything the twins went through. Megatron tends to pick up his recruits from the darkest corners of society, presumably because they have survival skills he's looking for. (Also, they're easy to persuade because anything is better than what they've got.) He IS tied to the underground gladiator rings directly, though, and you'll see how later on -- assuming I ever get this thing finished.
Carmilla DeWinter: It is a very hard line to walk, and I am fortunate/unfortunate in having a number of friends and loved ones who have gone through some form of trauma or abuse, which gives me plenty of secondhand experience to draw off of. One of the keys lies in giving less description, rather than more -- leaving much of the scene to the reader's imagination. Of course, that does tend to provoke some very strong responses in readers, which is why I stuck a BIG FAT WARNING on this fic.
Okami-chan: A little of both, I think. It's all business for the most part, but you can't be in that sort of work without at least a touch of sadism, and most of the trainers do take at least some joy in dominating and terrifying these young mechs. Clench himself is a control freak, he gets satisfaction out of it, but he doesn't do it for personal reasons -- these kids are just tools that he's molding. (And no, that doesn't make him any less of a bastard.)
Kitra13: Basically, the idea is to strip away their self-respect and break their will, giving them hatred enough to fight but at the same time making sure they fear their trainers enough not to rebel. It's a tricky line of control to maintain, and there are many fighters who've rebelled anyway, some successfully. Clench, however, has never had a fighter turn on him and live. (Of course, he's never dealt with twins, either...)
Clear Autumn: A lot of Autobots don't live up the Autobot ideals. There are some messed-up people in their ranks, some of whom constantly skate on the line of acceptable behavior. The twins are arguably some of the most extreme, but still, it's not like they're the only junkyard dogs in the kennel. In any case, they're not monsters yet.
One thing to keep in mind with the twins is that above all, they are willful. They are very much themselves and will not bend or yield to ANYBODY if they don't feel like it. This inherent character trait has given them a resilience to even the harshest environments. Many people have this resilience. There are grown-up abused children walking around all over the nation and the world, and while they all bear the scars, they have survived. As Sunstreaker shows, some things might never be overcome... but emotional endurance and the power of free will should never be underestimated.
