Yay- new ficcage again.

This one came out kinda strange, but it was deliberately made that way. It's brother-bonding, between Bluestreak and Prowl. Ratchet has a cameo. Genres include 'supernatural' though, and warning: heavy angst and 'kind of' character death (will be explained). Starts in G1 and goes from pre- to on Earth.

Kelly Clarkson got to me. This was inspired by her, 'You Found Me'. Love that track.

Edited 11/6/2012- cosmetics (abuse of the line divider), grammar, slightly more to Prowl's side of things now.

If this is a dream, I want to wake up. Before everything becomes too happy and I can't face the reality. But if it's a nightmare... it can't be worse than the reality, can it?

My faith holds on to the fact that he found me. In the middle of a battle, with fire all around, he found me. Took me from the ruins of Praxus and made sure I lived another day. How could I want to leave him, even in a dream? The pain of surviving was fleeting compared to the fear and the worry I feel when he's gone. He's the first thing I remember, since I can't remember anything from before he found me.

Because of him, I trained. I became good at shooting, made myself into something useful in this Primus-forsaken war. I tried a little bit harder every time because it would give him that extra bit of protection. I found other warriors, friends even, who had just as much drive to fight, but I can't tell them where my drive comes from. It's like I have to keep him safe, make sure he's okay because without him... I would cease to exist. My spark would drift apart, not even back to the Matrix we hear so much about, but just like it never existed in this reality.

It was ridiculous. He had plenty of 'Bots looking after him already. But I still felt I was important to him. He talked to me when I was nervous, held me when I was upset and helped me when I needed it. It was only when I saw his optics growing dark with exhaustion that I started to realise I was causing him harm as much as he made me better.

I tried to let go. Honestly. I let myself spend longer away from the base, ask for wider patrols, request missions deeper into enemy territory. I thought it was working well. I'd figured Prowl would get better, and then I could talk to him again. Weeks later, when I saw him after a particularly troubling shift, I saw his optics were just as dark. When I asked what was wrong, he only patted my shoulder and said, "I'm glad you're home safe, Bluestreak." He was worried about me. It was nice to be cared about, even as I finally realised that I was responsible for his dark gaze- even if it was only a little bit, I was inadvertedly hurting him with my actions. It was a hurt I couldn't ease, though- I was doing it to protect him. He was strong enough to withstand that- I was the one who constantly needed reassurances and needed to know he was still there. He would be fine, eventually. I understood and accepted that I'd always need him more than he needed me.

But I couldn't understand why he cared, why we shared this link.

Then came the Ark. It was launched in faith, the last hope for our race. I was honoured to be selected as a part of its crew, more so when I realised the recommendation came from Prowl himself.

Hope fell, crashed on the odd little rock inhabitants called Earth. I had four million years of enforced statis trapped in my own head. I didn't think about anything, really- instead, I dreamed.

"Blue! Bluestreak, watch OUT!"

I didn't stand a chance. I knew, even as I saw the shuttle heading in my direction, I wouldn't be able to avoid it in time. My body froze and I prayed to Primus that I would see my brother after all the medical care I was sure to need. With him being the chief surgeon, it was more than likely, and I took comfort in that as I felt the impact buckle plating. Pain built up in my circuits as more lines were ruptured and struts broken. Then black, without any light to let me see by. I realised I was going into statis lock; my sensors were shutting down one by one to conserve any energy they could.

Then oblivion.

I forced my optics to online briefly before they shut off again in protest.

It had been enough. Prowl was there.

"Hey little brother," he crooned softly. "I know for a fact you should still be sedated. I put you under, after all." I felt his hand on my chevron, and relaxed. It couldn't be too bad if he sounded like that. Everything hurt- but the shuttle damage must've been superficial.

The black I'd left behind only minutes ago rose again and pulled me back under. I thought I heard someone crying just before my CPU went blank.

I onlined again, but the pain was worse. I whimpered, the sound immediately gaining a nurse-drone's attention. "Paging nearest doctor" it intoned, but I wasn't really listening. I heard it, but didn't understand what it meant until I felt hands restraining me and a needle in one of my energon lines. I struggled, not knowing what was going on or where I was or where-

"Bluestreak!" I recognised Prowl's voice, far gone as I was. My brother sounded worried. "You've got to keep fighting... every time you go into statis there's a greater risk you won't come back. I don't know what's wrong with you, but I can't keep sedating you! Please little brother, fight!" He squeezed my hand. I tried to squeeze back, reassure him, but the pain was too great, even with the new drugs.

For the third time, I went under forcibly.

The noises woke me. Soft, but well-spoken. It could only be my brother, but who was he speaking to?

"I'm sorry Prowl." The other voice was sympathetic over the comm. link. "There's nothing I can identify from these files that can tell us why Bluestreak keeps falling into statis."

"But I can't repair his body fully until his spark's all there! You have to find something, Ratchet!" Prowl was nearly yelling, for all the good it was doing. Ratchet- my brother had spoken of him sometimes. Leading expert in spark-related incidents.

"I can't explain it. It's like his spark is trying to relocate, trying to leave his chamber." Ratchet hated feeling helpless, and it showed. "I don't know what to suggest."

I wondered that they hadn't realised I was awake and listening to their conversation from my hospital bed. Prowl sounded desperate. I wished I could stay awake and help, explain fully what was happening to me. Statis wasn't the right word for it; mechs didn't dream in statis. Should I tell him about my dreams? Did they have any meaning? They seemed... well, harmless wasn't right- I was dreaming of a war- but irrelevant. Nothing between them and reality was the same.

Well, okay, Prowl was there. And Ratchet, I think- maybe a couple more mechs I'd known since sparkling-hood. That was normal though, wasn't it? That I'd dream of my friends when I was hurt? Although I couldn't believe what I was putting us all through- one desperate battle after another, fighting to survive even when the battles were over because energy was growing scarce.

I dreamed that Cybertron was dying and we with it. Harmless definitely wasn't the word, but-

-it couldn't change anything, surely?

When we all finally onlined on Earth, I didn't tell anyone about my statis experience. No one else was volunteering their own, and even as vocal as I could be, it was too private to consider talking about. I almost wished it could have been true, and Prowl was my older brother, although I couldn't imagine him as a medic. That was strange.

So I talked about anything else to anyone I came across. It gave me a certain reputation, but it kept them from seeing if anything was wrong. It was a question I didn't want to consider, and wouldn't until I onlined on Ratchet's med-berth with no memory file on how I got there. I remembered being in the rec room, and I remembered dreaming (not an unusual experience, anymore)- but there was nothing in between.

"Your spark fluctuated." Ratchet announced, unusually serious. "I don't know what happened, or why, or whether it will happen again. But you are-" he glanced at his monitors- "fine according to all my machines and so I will release you." He paused, bitterness crossing his features. "I can't afford not to. We need every 'bot we've got out there." His optics narrowed to impress the command in his next words. "Come to me immediately if you feel strange. Understand?"

I nodded, but the medic wasn't done. "And see Prowl- he stopped by earlier."

I nodded again (the safest policy) and made to leave. But something was nagging at me; my dreams. I had to ask, and Ratchet's medbay was so rarely empty, this might be my only chance. "What was your specialty pre-war, Ratchet? What kind of medicine?"

He grimaced and I felt bad for asking the question. Nobody liked to remember what they'd lost. I waited patiently though; I had to know. Eventually, he answered. It chilled me slightly, both his tone and the words themselves.

"I specialised in sparks."

"-streak. Blue! Bluestreak! Watch OUT!"

I onlined with a jerk. The Ark's walls were that same comforting (revolting) orange colour. Hound, my roommate, looked worried.

"Blue?" He asked hesitantly. Most of the crew had been treating me like glass recently. "Do you need to see Ratchet?"

I growled and left the room. Just because I had one inexplicable incident did not mean-

My dreams, always close to the surface of my CPU, came back to me. Inexplicable?

Spark fluctuation. Relocation.

Fluctuation. Between one state and another. Here, and not here. There.

I ran for Prowl's office. I didn't know who else to go to.

I onlined for what was the six time in the hospital, that I remembered, anyway. My brother was by the berth, head in his hands. "Prowl?" I asked weakly. It was hard to talk, but seeing his optics light up as they realised I was conscious was some balm for the pain. "How long?"

The question wasn't explicit, but he understood. "Three months." He said softly. It had been three months since I had last onlined, and every time it got harder to come back, just like they'd warned it would be.

But that last dream... "Need to talk," I croaked. Prowl was immediately beside my bed, holding my hand.

"Tell me," he said simply.

Prowl's expression did not change as I told him about all of my dreams, even those while in statis after crashing on Earth. His hands clenched as he laid them on his desk. As I finished, and he still said nothing, I was afraid he was locked in a logic-loop. "Prowl?" I asked, fearful of what he was going to say.

"I... Blue... I can't... when did this first occur to you?" The logic was giving him some problems, it appeared. But something occurred to me then- and he'd be the only one who knew, so I ignored his question for one of my own.

" I'd rather you told me something." I tried to be polite, but sudden eagerness was overpowering my words. I might finally have an answer- something I'd only briefly dared to hope for. "What state was I in when you found me?" It was crazy, what I was thinking. It was impossible, surely?

It was important to me to know. Just like with Ratchet, I had to know, had to ask him. All I remembered from that time was his face, then the nearest med facility.

His optics widened. I think my request surprised him. But he considered it, and answered slowly. "You... weren't pretty. Your plating had all the evidence of fresh welds, and some of your struts were broken. More showed evidence of being broken, and hastily repaired- Ratchet called it like a patch job that was never completed, among other things. He wasn't impressed with how much work had been left undone." He stopped abruptly, and I knew he'd realised the link. Wounds consistent with what my dream self- I hesitated to call him my alternate self- had suffered.

"And my spark?" I prompted. Illogical, crazy, impossible- or only improbable?

He wouldn't meet my optics. "It was fluctuating."

There was one more question I wanted to ask him- had always wanted to ask, but been too intimidated at first, and then too scared to do so. Now though- I had told him everything; I felt like there was nothing to lose.

"Prowl?" He finally looked up at me, worry written all over his expression. But he nodded, silently telling me to ask my question.

"How did you find me, that day?" I'd looked over the unclassified reports as soon as I'd been set free from medbay. It hadn't been pretty reading- I was the only survivor of the attack, and the city was completely levelled.

The surprise was less this time; the lines of his face plates softened into understanding and- empathy?

"I was... particularly motivated, that day," he began what was looking to be a lengthy explanation. "I don't think I've ever told you, and Primus knows all records of it have been destroyed, but... well, Praxus was my city of origin, too." I gasped; he was right. I'd never known where he originated from; it had somehow never seemed important. Big mistake ruefully crossed my CPU. But Prowl continued, prompting me to listen in again. "I dropped everything when I heard of the attack, praying that somehow, somewhere, someone had survived. Damage reports were already arriving, you see, and nobody had been found alive." He took a deep breath, sorrow showing in his expression for just a moment. "I carried around more triage equipment than weapons those days, did you know? Maybe your dreams of me being a medic weren't so strange." He stared into space with a wistful look. "But Praxus was the start of an escalation even if we didn't know it at the time. We needed every fighter we could get, and I put aside dreams of medicine to become a tactician and perhaps prevent the casualties before they happened."

Another parallel. Unlike the previous one, it comforted me this time. And still Prowl spoke.

"I was behind the frontlines, looking for anyone still alive, anyone who might survive if they could just last a bit longer until the medics arrived. I found cold frames and broken buildings, mostly. I was losing hope, wandering by this point." He looked at me then, something like wonder in his optics. "Then... then I found you. I don't know what prompted me to wander in that direction, to that building; I was moving on autopilot. My city had been destroyed and I'd recognised some of the frames I'd left behind amongst the destruction. I was completely numb, until I heard the faintest noise- a static charge, the sort of thing a shorted-out vocaliser produces." He looked at me fondly. "You couldn't talk, but still made any sound you could. And the battle was still going on, shots being fired overhead- and they were so loud, and you so quiet. But I thank Primus every day for letting me hear you, because I started running, and I found you underneath a collapsed building, looking more slagged than anybody had any right to be. You were barely conscious; I patched up what I could, and got you to the medics."

He stood up and walked around his desk, enfolding me in a hug. I froze; although I liked to think on how close we were, he'd never before shown such affection. "I never told you this, either," he whispered, voice hitching on the words, "But you- you saved me too, Bluestreak, that day." I pulled back, optics wide. What? He saw me open my mouth, and forestalled me. "I had lost hope before I found you. I... the thoughts in my CPU weren't pretty. I thought- stupid things- and then, I found you. And I had something concrete to focus on." He pulled away, but took one of my hands instead. "I know you think you need me more than I need you," I tried to protest; he carried on over me, "don't try to argue- we both know you do. But it's not true." His expression was unyielding, but lost none of the gentleness. "I needed you that day, Bluestreak- and I still do. You've stopped me so many times from just giving up feeling, and you don't even realise it." He started smiling then, probably because of the dumbstruck expression on my face. "We found each other, Bluestreak- and like I said, I thank Primus every day for giving me that chance."

He finally fell silent. For once, I didn't say anything; there was nothing that could follow such a speech. Instead, I pulled him back close for another hug, winding my arms around his frame and holding on tightly.

The silence was comfortable, though; I think we both agreed that nothing more needed to be said.

"Bluestreak... I don't want you to do this. There's still a chance..."

I cut my brother off gently- I couldn't manage much more than a whisper, anyway. "I have to do this. It's the only way one of us will survive." I didn't know which pair I meant- one of Prowl and me, or one of me and myself? "You'll waste away looking after me in here- you've already all but discarded your career." He winced, and I knew I'd hit the mark. "But there- I know you'll find me. It won't be exactly the same, but like a dream. Or maybe it's more appropriate to call it a nightmare- there's some sort of war going on. Still, it can't be worse than this reality, right?"

Prowl said nothing, but I knew he'd not interfere. And he'd disconnect me from the life support after I fell offline this time. It was risky, but seemed the best, and most logical, solution.

"Love you," I whispered. "Know you'll find me. Already have, strictly speaking."

"Oh Blue," Prowl murmured. "I love you too. I'm so sorry..."

I didn't blame him, but he needed to hear it. I had to be quick; I'd already been online for so long, it was hard to stay that way... "Forgiven already- you'll find me."

I fell into the blackness for the final time.

It was the second time I'd woke up in the Ark's medbay in as many weeks. "What happened this time?" I asked, not really wanting to know.

"Bluestreak?" The voice came from my side, and I saw with pleasure that Prowl was sitting next to my berth.

"I can't have been out of it so long that the SIC can afford bed visits," I said, smiling to show how much I appreciated it. My grin faded when neither mech smiled back.

"It's been three months, Blue," Prowl said. That shocked me.

"But... I feel fine! Check your instruments!" I turned to Ratchet. "There's nothing wrong with me!"

"Not now, there isn't." Ratchet picked up the explanation. "Three months ago, your spark... extinguished. You were rushed here, but I thought... I thought it was too late. Prowl insisted you be put on life support. He's the one who found you offline. Hours later, your spark had re-ignited. Now you're out of statis. I don't know what's going on with you!"

I met Prowl's optics and realised he hadn't told Ratchet anything I'd said to him. He was my brother, whether we were linked by creation or not.

"Whatever it was, I think it must be over now," I said, and Prowl's optics brightened as he got my underlying meaning. I'd tell him the rest in private later, but now I was exhausted. "I'd like to recharge some more, if that's okay." I looked at Ratchet, and he nodded.

"But I'm keeping you here for observation. You're not leaving until I-"

This time, it wasn't blackness greeting me. It was sweet oblivion, with stars and dreams.

It was like a self-fulfilling... what? Destiny? I snorted, as had Prowl when I mentioned that thought. Logic left no room for destiny.

But still...

There's one more memory that comes to me now, when I'm sleeping. An actual memory, not a dream or nightmare.

There was a battle going furiously. I could hear shots being fired left and right, but couldn't move- the building was pinning me in place where it'd collapsed. I couldn't remember what had happened, but I tried to scream for help anyway. My vocaliser felt broken. The blackness was creeping up on me and I would've surrendered to it, but for the Autobot who'd literally crashed into my prone form.

Black and white, with wings behind him. For some reason, he was familiar. Despite the pain, I was comforted.

"You found me," I whispered. It was all I could manage. His optics brightened- he was evidently surprised to find me alive, given my injuries.

"Can you tell me where the worst of the damage is?" He asked urgently.

But all I could focus on was him. Not his words, nor his tone of voice, nor even the battle that seemed to pause as he spoke.

"You found me, brother," I whispered, before falling offline. "You found me..."