Every once in a while I do a "How canon am I keeping everyone?" self-check (because this is probably my most OOC AU ever if I'm being honest with myself), and funny enough it's Gasket who's most different in story and plot from his original counterpart. I feel like I pulled an IDW on the IDW verse. I pretty much rewrote him into a new character (…and hey, if IDW can do it, why not me? *glares slightly at certain characters in IDW*).

Last but not least, I'm really sorry to end on another sad moment, especially with how sparse updates are. I don't know when but there will be another chapter at the very least so it isn't trapped in tragedy forever. I always intended for things to look up after this moment.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 14

"About time you got here," Turmoil said, looking down his nose. Deadlock wandered into the warehouse, hands in his pockets and eyes puffy. The man looked like he'd been crying for Primus' sake. Killers weren't supposed to feel things. Turmoil slapped Deadlock upside the head when he got close. "What took you?"

"I came as soon as I got the phone call," Deadlock said. The back of his head stung and he embraced the physical pain. It was distracting. It felt good. Deadlock wanted more. He looked up at Turmoil, all meat and muscle. He was good for that. "What's the job?"

"Kill this guy," Turmoil said, nodding over his shoulder to the man tied up in the chair next to him. The thief who'd beat up one of their sellers shivered in his seat. "Then I got a list for you of his buddies to take care of loose ends."

Deadlock grunted and pulled out his gun. He shot the guy in the head, splattering Turmoil and himself in a spray of blood.

Turmoil jumped away, shaking off his hand from the viscera. He yelled, "What the frag, Deadlock?"

"I killed him," Deadlock said. Turmoil looked like he was about to throw a punch. Good. Good. Turmoil was always good for this sort of thing. He was easy to rile up. Deadlock put his gun away to prevent any temptation to use it. Deadlock clicked his tongue. "Like you asked."

"You little punk," Turmoil said. He punched Deadlock across the face, hard enough to hit him to the ground. "What game are you playing at?"

"I'm not in the mood to draw things out," Deadlock said, loving the way his cheek stung. More. More of that and he could forget blue eyes. Deadlock clicked his tongue again, watching Turmoil's brow twitch. "So I got the job done fast."

Turmoil walked around Deadlock, stretching out his fingers. Something was wrong. Deadlock always waited for Turmoil to leave before he went to work. Always. This was as close to a flat out act of rebellion that he'd ever seen out of this kid. Turmoil kicked him in the side. Turmoil needed to nip this in the bud quick. "It sounds more like you're trying to tick me off on purpose."

Deadlock needed more. He needed it to hurt more. Anything to ignore the ache in his chest and sad blue eyes that wouldn't leave him alone. He kicked out and hit Turmoil in the shin. "What tipped you off?"

Turmoil hissed at the sting in his leg. He gripped his fist and yanked Deadlock up by the back of his hair. "You're going to regret that."

Deadlock spit in his face.

"You want to go to college instead of the Academy?" Optimus asked, staring down at this son. Hot Rod shifted on his feet and looked at the floor. His shoulders curved in on himself in a sign of nervousness he couldn't ever remember associating with his child before. "What brought this on?"

"I've just been thinking things through this past couple of months and I guess I want to explore more options," Hot Rod said. He bit the edge of his lip, unable to look up and watch his father's eyes over his bandana. "Is that a problem?"

"No, of course not," Optimus said, though he could feel his disappointment and did his best to hide it. He walked over and put his hand on Hot Rod's shoulder. "You're young, and there's no reason you need to plan out your entire life right now."

"Bettering your education is admirable," Magnus said. He nodded to himself and went back to helping with the dishes. "Your father is right. You are more than welcome to explore other options while you're young."

Hot Rod breathed out slowly. This was going better than he had thought it would.

"Besides, having an extra education will be a boon if you decide to enter the Academy later," Magnus added. "So there's no downside and your original path is still open."

"Right," Hot Rod said. He rubbed the back of his head and laughed. "I'll keep that in mind, Uncle Magnus."

"I guess if that's your plan, we should start looking for options," Ultra Magnus said. He put a dish on the counter. "It's a bit late to apply to most of the major universities, but there are plenty of local community colleges we can look into. We'll find one that has the best options for transfer after the first semester and then work from there."

"I'll leave that to you then," Optimus said. He wanted to be involved in Hot Rod's life, as always, but there was no stopping his brother when he got like this. And Magnus was good for this sort of thing. "And I'll be there if you need me to keep him under control, Hot Rod."

Hot Rod snorted and hugged his dad. "Thanks."

"Any time, Hot Rod." Optimus hugged him back and ruffled his hair when he leaned back. "I'm sure your mother will be happy to have some input as well when we call her at the end of the week."

"She'll be excited to know we'll have a plan worked out by then." Ultra Magnus left the clean dishes, wiping his hands off on a rag. "We can get started right now. No time like the present, don't you think, nephew?"

"Sure," Hot Rod said. He followed his Uncle to the living room, and sat next to him when he pulled out the computer.

Things were looking up. Hot Rod's chest still hurt from what he had to do to Deadlock earlier, but siting here with his excited Uncle made it ache just a little bit less.

Gasket couldn't leave it alone.

Deadlock had looked like death warmed over when he left, he wasn't in a good place, and there was no way that kid should be doing a job right now. Not when the most important person in his life had just rejected him for that exact same job.

The kid was likely to do something stupid.

Shrugging his coat closer on his shoulders, Gasket walked fast as he headed toward the normal warehouse for Turmoil's line of work. If he hurried, he might be able to console the kid while he was cleaning up. Maybe Gasket could keep him focused on something other than the blood on the floor.

Gasket didn't expect the blood on the floors and the walls to be Deadlock's.

"Oh, Primus." Gasket ran into the room, straight toward his boy on the ground and Turmoil standing over him. "Stop!"

"Gasket," Turmoil said, stepping away. Deadlock's arm looked bent the wrong direction, so it was safe enough for a break from the pummeling. He looked at the old chemist and snorted. "The brat needed a lesson. Why aren't you working?"

"A lesson?" Gasket asked. He entered Turmoil's personal space, forcing the man to back away from Deadlock further. He stood between them and held his shoulders back. "You've near beat him to death!"

"Gasket?" Deadlock asked, voice wheezing and wet. Was he seeing things? He had left Gasket back at home with dinner. Deadlock groaned as the world came back into focus. "Why are you here?"

"I had a bad feeling and I guess I was right," Gasket said. He left off the "Bad feeling you were going to do something stupid" for now. He turned to Turmoil. "Whatever he did, I'm sure this is more than enough. You're going to kill him."

"I told him to keep his mouth shut and he kept going," Turmoil said. He held his hands out in a display of his innocence. He'd given the kid plenty of incentive to back down, but he didn't take it. "Every hit is his own doing. He's literally asking for it."

"Deadlock's not in a great mental place and you know it," Gasket hissed, lowering his voice. "There's no excuse for this."

"I think I'm starting to see where the kid gets it," Turmoil said. Gasket was one of his better chemists, but he was hardly the only one. Between Gasket and Deadlock, the killer kid was the more valuable one. Anyone could make drugs, but getting someone who could clean up as well as he killed was much harder to find. It seemed Deadlock needed a better lesson than a straight up beating could give and here was a great example. "You don't know how to hold your tongue either."

"Turmoil," Gasket said. He took a step back when a thick hand wrapped around his throat and lifted him off the ground.

"He gets his rebellion from you," Turmoil said, squeezing. "You baby him too much, don't you old man? You're giving the brat the idea he can get away with talking back thanks to you."

"Hey," Deadlock said. He leaned up on his good arm, blood dripping from his mouth. Gasket shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be in the air like that. This wasn't about him! "Turmoil. Put him down."

"I don't think I will," Turmoil said. He looked at Deadlock and tightened his grip on Gasket's throat. "You both need to remember who's in charge here. If you can't do what you're told like a good boy, you get punished. Since beating you isn't working, I guess I'll have to be more creative."

"No!" Deadlock stumbled to his knees. He screamed when Turmoil stuck the knife under Gasket's chest and dropped him.

Turmoil turned to the brat and hissed, "This is what happens when you—"

"I'll kill you," Deadlock said, all thoughts of pain of any sort gone as he twisted the same knife that has just stabbed Gasket into Turmoil's gut. He felt nothing but rage and his body moved on its own, fighting through every physical pain. "You shouldn't have done that."

"How'd you?" Turmoil gaped, staring at his own weapon used against him. He had barely seen the kid move, let alone when he'd stolen the knife and repurposed it. Turmoil laughed, hissing inward. It wasn't the first time he'd been stabbed, and it wouldn't be the last. "I forget how good you are sometimes."

Turmoil answered Deadlock's move by bringing his elbow down hard onto the kid's back. He dropped an inch but growled back in retaliation.

Deadlock dropped hold of his knife and reached for his gun. Turmoil made to stop him, but the brute specialized in force, not speed. It was like taking candy from a baby when Deadlock shoved the gun up against his thigh and fired twice in quick succession. Turmoil cried out and fell to his knees. Deadlock shoved the gun into his shoulder and fired the last three shots.

He reloaded the gun with a shaking hand, kicking Turmoil on his side. His broken arm made it hard to move, but Deadlock was nothing but persistent when he was properly motivated.

"You shouldn't have touched Gasket," Deadlock said. He unloaded the entire clip into Turmoil's ribs and waited for his wet coughs to stop before he put his gun in its holster and turned back to what was important: "Gasket."

Gasket's chest heaved up and down, his hands over his bleeding side. He winced as Deadlock pulled him up off the ground, holding him near his chest. "Hey, kid."

"Gasket," Deadlock repeated. He trembled, his vision blurring through tears that wouldn't stop and too much blood on his face. "Don't. Don't die. I'll take you to a hospital. It'll be okay. It'll be 'll be fine."

"Kid," Gasket said. He reached up and grabbed Deadlock's cheek, wheezing hard. Poor kid looked frantic, with wide eyes and messy hair. Gasket was so lucky to be so loved. He laughed through the blood in his mouth and rubbed his thumb on the side of Deadlock's nose. "Calm down. It's okay. The hospital can't help me right now."

"No," Deadlock said. It was just a stab wound. Gasket would be fine. The puddle of blood gathered around them could be replaced. "Hold in there."

"Deadlock, son," Gasket said again. He may have been a chemist first, but he was also old and he knew when something irreparable had been stabbed. Turmoil wasn't a fool and he was as experienced as Deadlock. This was the end, but he was glad his boy was here. "What were you doing? Don't tell me you were just going to let Turmoil keep hitting you."

"That's not impor—"

"It is!" Gasket yelled, cutting him off. He coughed afterwards and lowered his hand to grab the front of Deadlock's coat. "It is. You're better than that. You're my boy and I will not let you roll over and let someone hurt you like that. Don't you ever sit there and take that again."

"But," Deadlock said. He sniffed and squeezed Gasket closer. How could he tell him that the pain made everything else easier? How could he tell him this was normal. Gasket looked so angry. The man was bleeding out and he was yelling at Deadlock and he couldn't take this. "Gasket."

"Promise me you won't do it again," Gasket said. He pulled himself up, hissing through the pain and tugged on Deadlock's jacket. He could see the unspoken brokenness. If he wasn't long for this world, there was only one thing he could do for his boy. "Promise me you will live. No matter what, promise me that you will take care of yourself."

"I will," Deadlock said, hugging Gasket to himself. He buried his face in the old man's hair, feeling the warm blood pooling on his waist. "I'll be good."

"That's my boy," Gasket said, breathing out. He dropped his head on Deadlock's shoulder and closed his eyes. "You've always been my boy, you know that, right?"

"Yeah," Deadlock said, voice hoarse. He didn't want it to stop here. It couldn't stop here. "Of course."

"I'm so proud of you, Deadlock," Gasket said. His hand fell agains his side. There was no strength left there. It wasn't long now. It was warm here, though. It was easy to drift away. "No matter what you do. You're my boy. I love you so much, son."

"I love you, too," Deadlock whispered. Gasket's heart stopped under his hold; the man turned limp. Deadlock sobbed. It was too much. He rocked back and forth, hugging the old man closer. "I love you, too."

The room smelled like rotting copper, and it grew cold the longer Deadlock sat there. He didn't know what to do.

Hot Rod yawned into his hand as he trudged up the stairs. It was well after eleven and his Uncle Magnus had finally left the house. His dad went to bed an hour before, already tired of Uncle Magnus comparing the pros and cons of every community college in the area.

It wasn't until Hot Rod pointed out the time and that they still had a week to make plans that the man relented on putting their search for the perfect university on pause.

He opened his door and came to a dead halt when the light from the hallway touched his bed, revealing the figure sitting on the edge of his mattress.

Deadlock looked up, eyes glazed and wet. Blood clotted his hair and Hot Rod swallowed as he remained frozen in the doorway. The older man didn't move. It was easy to see that every inch of him was splattered with red and it soaked into Hot Rod's sheets.

"Sorry," Deadlock said, and Hot Rod flinched. He looked at the floor, where small drops of Gasket's still wet blood collected. He shouldn't have come here. But where else? Deadlock dropped his head again and held his head. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

"Are you okay?" Hot Rod asked. He closed the door behind him, leaving the lights off as he tread forward. "What happened?"

"Gasket's dead," Deadlock said. He had left the body outside a hospital near the warehouse and ran. He ran until his lungs burned and then he got into his car and drove on Autopilot. There was only one place he wanted to be. A place he wasn't wanted but Deadlock had no where else to go. Home wasn't home any more. "I'm sorry."

Hot Rod had a thousand questions running through his head. He'd just left Deadlock at lunch and things were fine, not great, but fine. He closed his eyes trying to think of the old man who'd helped him during the overdose. Gasket must have meant more to Deadlock than Hot Rod originally thought.

"Can I stay?" Deadlock whispered. He focused on the floor, listening to the quiet room and Hot Rod breathing. "I'll leave in the morning, but I can't. I can't be alone right now. I promised. I promised."

Deadlock continued to mumble under his breath and Hot Rod fell forward. He hugged Deadlock and rubbed his back, moving before his thoughts could catch up with him. Killer or not, how could Hot Rod turn the man away now? "Yeah, of course you can stay."

"Thank you," Deadlock whispered. He wrapped his good arm around Hot Rod and dragged him closer so he could bury his face in the other man's chest. He smelled good. Deadlock breathed Hot Rod in. Good. Good. He whispered, "I'll be good."

Hot Rod glanced at Deadlock's limp arm, wincing at the makeshift splint keeping it straight. Something bad happened, but he'd ask later. He rubbed Deadlock's back. "You need sleep."

Deadlock grunted, but didn't move.

"I'll help," Hot Rod said. He maneuvered the clingy man until they were both on the bed, facing each other, or as much as the could with Deadlock refusing to take his face out of Hot Rod's chest. They clung to each other, and Hot Rod wondered how things could come to this. All he could do was offer the most basic of comforts to Deadlock: "You're going to be okay."

"That's what Gasket said," Deadlock said. He made it through two shaky breaths before the tears came again. He soaked Hot Rod's shirt through, muffling his sobbing moans.

Hot Rod squeezed Deadlock, attempting to keep his heartbeat calm and his breathing even. He was freaking out but Deadlock didn't need that right now. Hot Rod had no idea what to do with this, but he knew he was needed.

So he let Deadlock cry.

Ten minutes later, the man had cried himself to sleep and Hot Rod felt safe enough to close his own eyes. Cuddled together, his chest wet with blood and tears, Hot Rod fell asleep.

When he woke up in the morning, his sheets had been replaced with the spare set from his closet and Deadlock was nowhere to be found. He'd left without so much as a goodbye and cleaned every trace of his presence away.

Hot Rod knew that he was never going to see Deadlock again, but he could hope wherever he was that he would be okay.