The conclusion of our tale, in which Scavenger attempts a little blackmail of his own, and in return, receives an unexpected gift.
The Raven's Gift
It was Scavenger who spoke first. "Do you think Cyclonus means it?"
"I think it would be wise not test him," Dirge replied. He limped over to Starscream's marker and set his shoulder heavily against it, as if he no longer had the energy to stand on his own. "One breem will not be enough time to repeat the ceremony, nor even to complete the statue."
"Then what can we do?" Scavenger asked.
"Scavenger," Dirge said, his tone gentle. "You should leave."
"Leave? What are you talking about?"
"You have done far more than I ever could have asked. Go to Charr with the others, and I will finish this myself."
Scavenger stared at him, a cold feeling invading his spark. His memory flashed to the image of Dirge gazing wistfully into the Allspark, and a sense of panic rose in him, quickly boiling into rage.
"Like slag you will!" he exploded. "You dragged me down here why? Because you needed my help! How exactly are you planning to finish this on your own?"
"I will manage."
"You can barely stand up! We both know what's really going to happen if I leave. You're not going to be able to do a thing for him! You'll just die down here—and that's… that's what you want, isn't it?"
Dirge stiffened. "Scavenger! That is not—"
"You made a promise to him!" Scavenger interrupted. "How are you going to keep it if you're dead? If you go, then at least there's some hope of eventually coming back and finishing!"
"No," Dirge said, shaking his head. "Even if the Autobots were to allow me to return, there is no—"
Scavenger whipped out his pistol and aimed it at him. It wasn't a very impressive weapon, as weapons went, yet the Seeker fell silent, staring at him in shock.
"Look Dirge," Scavenger said. "I've lost my home, my collection, and the mech I thought I was in love with! I've handled remains, and faced down a fragged-off ghost, and—"
"Technically," Dirge cut in, "Starscream is not—"
"Shut up and listen! There are two possible things that are going to happen. One is that we go with Cyclonus. The other is that we surrender to the Autobots, but there is no way I'm leaving you down here, because… because I'm not leaving my friend in a place like this!"
Dirge opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. His stunned expression made him look surprisingly young, almost the same age that Zephyr's statue had appeared to be. "You know Cyclonus would never allow you to stay, if it meant Devastator losing his right arm."
"Well then," Scavenger said, "I guess there's really just one choice, isn't there?"
Dirge raised an optic ridge. "Are you blackmailing me?"
"I suppose I am."
"Very well," Dirge said after a pause, with an amused half-smile. "Perhaps we should use our remaining time to put Starscream to rest with as much dignity as we can manage. May I have my censer back? Or should I say," he added, a distinct twinkle in his optics, "my laser saw."
Scavenger put his pistol away and drew the black metal disk from his subspace. "This thing looks nothing like a laser saw," he muttered, handing it over. "Cyclonus is no craftsmech."
"Clearly not," Dirge agreed, as he lit more incense. As the richly scented smoke began to rise, he went on to explain, "The conclusion of the ceremony involves sealing the tomb. It is at this point that tributes may be offered, either in the form of parting words or burial gifts. Since we have none—"
"Wait." Scavenger reached into his subspace and drew out the crown. "I probably should… I did say that I'd give it back to him." He picked up the canvas bag from where he'd dropped it earlier, in his panicked attempt to appease Starscream's raging spirit. He began putting the crown back inside, but paused when he noticed Dirge's frown. "What?" he asked. "It's okay, isn't it? I mean, it's ku'at to put the crown inside the marker?"
Dirge held out his hand. "May I?"
"Sure," Scavenger said as he handed it over.
Dirge stiffened the moment his hand touched the crown. "Hmph." He turned the object this way and that, his fingers lightly tracing its broken surfaces. Finally he handed it back. "Scavenger," he said seriously, "I believe you should keep this."
"But I already said I'd give it back," Scavenger said, "and besides, you're the one who said that it's not ku'at to steal from the dead."
"True," Dirge agreed, "but is highly ku'at to guard the belongings of a deceased friend or loved one."
"Yes, but—"
"That," Dirge said, nodding toward the crown, "is far more than it appears to be. I cannot say what its true purpose is, but it holds tremendous power. It will be far safer under your guardianship than it would be here."
"Okaaay," Scavenger answered slowly, as he tucked the crown away. It was strange to recall how, less than a joor ago, he'd been determined to hang on to the crown at any cost. Now the idea of keeping it felt wrong, somehow. Almost disappointing. "I feel like I should give him something," he said, "but I don't have anything else."
Dirge considered this. "I believe you mentioned something about poetry."
"Oh." Scavenger's face grew hot. He'd forgotten that he'd mentioned it. "It's… well. I mean, I did read him one of my poems once, but he wasn't… interested."
"That does not mean you should not read one now," Dirge countered. "Funerary rites are not only for the dead. They are also meant to bring peace to the living. I would enjoy hearing what you have written."
Scavenger hesitated and was about to say no, but then he remembered that last poem that he'd written. When he drew the book from his subspace, it fell open to that last page almost by itself.
"You won't tell anyone?"
"Never," Dirge promised.
Scavenger stared down at his blocky writing and tightened his grip on the book as if it might flutter away. He cleared his vocalizer, and began to read. His voice was shaky at first, but it firmed as he continued to read. The emotion that he'd invested in every word, every stroke of his stylus rose up in him fresh and filled with pain.
"And I'm here with nothing left to hold," he concluded, "but all these words I could not say."
He closed the book and pressed it to his chest, his head bowed.
"That was well done," Dirge said quietly. "I liked the part about the starless beloved."
"I wrote what was in my spark," Scavenger replied.
"I could tell."
Scavenger glanced up, and Dirge gave him a faint smile. "We should seal the tomb," he said, "unless there is anything else you would like to add."
Scavenger shook his head.
Dirge opened the near-invisible panel at the side of the marker and pressed the switch that closed the circular opening that held the urn. It began to slide shut, but he released the switch before it had closed completely. "I think I will leave it slightly open," he murmured. "It is not precisely ku'at, but if his bondmate comes here, he may wish to… hold him, one last time."
He stepped back from the marker, and Scavenger watched as his gaze rose to the spot where the vortex had appeared. Just then, a loud clanking sound echoed from the Grand Atrium. "Cyclonus," Scavenger said. "He's opening the doors. We have to go."
He caught Dirge's arm, and Dirge followed without protest as Scavenger led him toward the Grand Atrium. When they reached the freight elevator, Cyclonus opened the doors for them with scornful politeness. "I see that you have decided to join us, Crypt Master Dirge," he said as they stumbled inside.
Scavenger, who was supporting Dirge with an arm around his shoulders, helped him to the rear of the compartment and settled him to lean against the wall. Dirge sagged, his optics going dark for a moment, but then they flickered alight again as he twisted his head toward Scavenger and grasped his forearm, giving it a light squeeze.
"Thank you," he said softly. "My friend."
Cyclonus, who was by now activating the lift, noted the gesture with an expression of contempt. "Might as well be Autobots," he muttered.
As they began to rise, Scavenger leaned against the wall next to Dirge and shuttered his own optics. He was surprised to find himself smiling behind his mask.
Epilogue
"Rations for the journey," Hook announced as he tossed a pathetically small energon cube in Scavenger's direction. "I suggest you make it last."
Scavenger caught the cube with a nod of thanks. "How long 'til we get there?" he asked.
"How would I know something like that?" Hook snapped. "It's not as if that crew has chosen to share any information with us mere mortals," he added, tilting his chin toward the small cluster of mechs who were gathered near Astrotrain's forward control area. Cyclonus was standing ramrod straight, gazing out through the forward windows with his hands clasped behind his back, while Scourge and his Sweeps stood grouped behind him, as if on guard. "Judging by Astrotrain's current speed, however, I would say that we should arrive on Charr in approximately two point five orns." He paused. "Scavenger, are you well?"
Scavenger gaped at Hook, momentarily lost for words. "I'm all right," he said at last. It suddenly occurred to him how exhausted his team leader looked, which was really small wonder considering that he'd been working nonstop since the Decepticons' return to Darkmount, running triage for the wounded while somehow, at the same time, coordinating the evacuation. When Scavenger and Cyclonus had returned from the Crypt with a semi-conscious Dirge in tow, Hook had swung into action with his typical brusque efficiency and had sequestered Dirge for a thorough examination. He had, in fact, only just emerged from the curtained-off area at the back of Astrotrain's hold which he had designated as a temporary medbay.
Hook gave a perfunctory nod and started away.
Scavenger called after him. "Is Dirge going to be all right?"
Hook glanced back at him. "His systems were overtaxed due to exhaustion and unhealed injuries, but I expect he'll make a full recovery," he said. "He is awake now, if you would like to speak with him." With that he lumbered away, distributing energon cubes as he went. Scavenger realized that the rest of his team was staring at him.
"Ooohoo!" Mixmaster cackled. "So the vulture's awake! Guess you better go talk to him!"
"Yeah, guess you better!" Bonecrusher started to guffaw, and the rest of the Constructicons quickly joined in.
Scavenger flinched, dropping his gaze to stare at his feet. He did want to see how Dirge was doing, but he also knew that if he did, the others would never let him hear the end of it. In fact, they might even start to shun him. He wondered how many of the other Decepticons had seen him and Cyclonus half-carrying Dirge when they'd arrived back at Darkmount. He'd been too intent on getting Dirge the medical care he needed to be concerned about it much else.
Cyclonus, being new, wouldn't know about the superstitions concerning Dirge, though Scavenger suspected that his having publicly touched the Crypt Master would only add to his fearsome reputation. Scavenger, on the other hand, was probably now considered marked for death, and perhaps even "untouchable" himself.
It was at times like this that he longed to hide away in his quarters, or to wander off on his own somewhere, exploring and digging for new treasures. Yet something in him felt different, and he realized that he wasn't quite the same mech he'd been when Dirge had first knocked on his door. He had willingly handled a dead body, offered his artistic opinion when asked, had faced down a raging spirit, and had even read his poetry out loud. And yes, he had even stepped into the line of fire to protect a friend.
He pushed himself up from the bench where he'd been sitting and glanced around at the rest of his team. "Yeah," he said cheerfully. "I guess I should go talk to him. See how my friend is doing, you know?"
The rest of his team fell silent, staring at him with stunned looks. Scavenger smiled inwardly as he turned and strolled toward the temporary medbay. Inside the curtained area, several temporary berths had been set up for the more badly injured Decepticons. Two of these had been pushed together, enabling Dirge's trinemates, Thrust and Ramjet, to engage in what looked to be a ferocious game of flip-tiles. Neither of them glanced up as Scavenger walked past, nor did most of the huddled forms in the other berths.
Dirge, whether by accident or design, was in the berth nearest the back of the hold. He was sitting up in his berth, and seemed to be deeply absorbed in a game of solitaire. As Scavenger approached, he saw that the Seeker had taken one particular card from the pack and was gazing at it as though it held some special meaning. An energon cube, slightly larger than Scavenger's own, sat untouched on the berth next to him.
"Hey," Scavenger said softly.
Dirge took a moment to glance up. "Scavenger," he acknowledged at last, his tone crisp and formal.
Scavenger frowned behind his mask. They hadn't spoken since their return to Darkmount, considering that there really hadn't been time. Dirge's injuries had needed immediate attention, while Scavenger had been conscripted into loading supplies onto Astrotrain. Now, suddenly, he felt awkward. Perhaps their friendship had been temporary, existing only while they were down in the Crypt, but now that they were back to their "normal" lives, things between them were also back to, well… normal.
He glanced at the hexagonal card that Dirge was holding. It was the Minstrel, and showed a silver Seeker dancing while playing a sainu. It looked eerily similar to the statue of Zephyr. Scavenger also noticed that an eerie silence had fallen. When he risked a glance around, he saw that everyone in the medbay capable of noticing had stopped what they were doing and were staring at him, Dirge's trinemates included.
"Dirge," Scavenger said firmly. He leaned forward and grasped the Seeker's shoulder, making sure that everyone saw him do it. Dirge jumped slightly, and glanced up in surprise. Scavenger smiled, though he realized that Dirge couldn't see it behind his mask. "Is it okay if I sit here while I drink my energon?" he asked.
Dirge gave him a searching look. It was hard to guess what he saw, but then again, Scavenger thought, maybe they weren't so different. They were both hidden behind their respective masks, and the assumptions that everyone made about them.
"Of course," Dirge said finally, and swept his cards aside to make room. Scavenger perched on the edge of the berth, and held up his cube.
When Dirge merely stared at it, Scavenger explained, "It's something my people do. We bump cubes. It's for good luck and friendship and… stuff."
"My people do as well," Dirge said, and nudged Scavenger's cube with his own.
Scavenger drank. His systems responded with a grateful hum as fresh energy flooded his circuits, though he noticed, when he dismissed his empty cube, that Dirge had yet to take a sip from his own. "Go on," Scavenger prompted. "You gotta drink up if you want the good luck to work."
Dirge contemplated him for a moment longer. "Very well," he said at last. He drained his cube in one long draught, and dismissed it with a wave. "Satisfied?"
Scavenger shrugged. "Maybe. What was that game were you playing?"
"Executioner. Do you know it?"
"Do I!" Scavenger bounced a little, grinning behind his mask. "I was sparked playing Executioner. Deal me in?"
Dirge, by way of response, shuffled his deck and dealt out a hand of six cards, which Scavenger swept up and fanned in front of himself. "Can I ask you something?" he asked, as they began to play.
"Ask," Dirge said.
"Are you upset that I made you leave?"
Dirge glanced at him over the tops of his cards, and gave a slow shake of his head. "You did not make me leave."
"Well… I did blackmail you."
Dirge smiled. "True. But blackmail is only effective against someone who believes they have something to lose, wouldn't you agree?"
Scavenger vented a sigh. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I am glad to be here with you, playing cards." With that, he set down his Tesseract next to the Ace of Cubes Scavenger had just played, and with a smirk of triumph, laid claim to the entire stack that they had played so far.
Scavenger glared at him in mock affront, wondering if Dirge could see his optics well enough to read the expression, and resumed play. "What do you think will happen?" he asked in a whisper. "To him, I mean. Or his bondmate."
Dirge hesitated. "That, I do not know."
Scavenger frowned again, for real this time. "It was never covered in your priest training?"
"There are things that even we priests do not know," Dirge said.
There's something he's not telling, Scavenger thought, as he studied the Crypt Master's impassive features. He knew that Dirge wouldn't lie, but that didn't mean that he couldn't leave things unsaid if it suited him.
"We're going to go back," Scavenger vowed. "Just as soon as we can. We're going to do that ceremony again the way it's meant to be done, and everything's going to be fine. You'll see."
"Aye," Dirge agreed. "We'll go back as soon as we can."
Scavenger dropped his gaze to his cards, not really seeing them. He knew that the chances of being able to go back to Cybertron any time in the near future was slim, considering the current state of the Decepticon army, and the thought that someone's afterlife could hang in the balance because of him seemed unimaginable.
"I have something for you," Dirge said, interrupting his thoughts. "If you would like to have it, of course."
"What is it?" Scavenger asked, surprised.
"It is a very little thing," Dirge cautioned as he reached into subspace. The object, whatever it was, was so tiny that his hand completely enclosed it as he drew it out. "Just a keepsake, really. I thought it would make a good start for your next collection."
He dropped it into Scavenger's open palm. "It's pretty," Scavenger said, staring at it. "What is it?" It was a tiny, rounded piece of blue-green plastic in the shape of a bug, and looked as if it might once have been part of a toy.
"A scarab," Dirge said. "It is a type of beetle that was considered sacred by the ancient Egyptians, an Earth culture which had especially fascinating funerary traditions. The scarab collects that which others believe to have no value, and brings new life forth from it." A small smile tugged at his lips as he added, "I decided that if I am a vulture, than you must also be something. I chose scarab."
"Not vulture," Scavenger corrected without thinking. "A raven."
"What is a raven?" Dirge asked with a slight frown.
"A type of bird," Scavenger explained. "There's a famous poem about one. I could recite it for you sometime, if you want."
"I would like that," Dirge replied. "And I would like to hear more of your poetry, as well."
"Really?"
Dirge gave a solemn nod. "Of course."
"Oh," Scavenger said, nonplussed. He thought of his plan to incinerate his poetry book, and decided maybe that could wait, at least for a while. "I guess I could read you some more, if no one ever found out."
"It will be our secret," Dirge assured him. He paused. "Do you like the scarab?"
Scavenger returned his gaze to the the tiny object, and realized that his hand had begun to quiver. His collections in the past had always been just that; things that he had picked up because he happened to find them interesting, or attractive, or because he hoped they would be useful to one of his fellow Decepticons. He couldn't remember ever having received one as a gift.
"I'm going to treasure it," he said, tucking it reverently into his subspace.
His face felt hot behind his mask, and he wondered if Dirge could tell. The Seeker's gaze, however, was now fixed firmly on his cards, and his lean cheeks seemed noticeably darker than they had been a moment earlier. That, of course, could just be a trick of the light.
"Hmph," Dirge said. He shifted his weight on the berth as though he was getting uncomfortable. "Shall we play, then?"
Scavenger nodded.
Dirge set down his next card. Scavenger countered, and they fell into a companionable silence, too absorbed in their game to be concerned with whether the others were still watching them, or not.
And there you have it! The conclusion of my "little" Crypt fic, which accidentally turned into an epic. I hope that everyone who's read it has enjoyed it half as much as I enjoyed writing it, and thanks to everyone who has left reviews; that means a lot to me! :-) I've loved writing both Dirge and Scavenger, and have plans for some future adventures for them, though right now I'm feeling the need to get back to the "Unbroken" series and to Starscream and Skyfire... which is a story which won't be posted here, unfortunately, due to explicit content, but I will be sure to put a link to it on my profile page. I plan to start posting it by the end of 2015, so look out for it! :-)
