NOTE: I would like to thank UlurNaga for helping me through my terrible case of writer's block. She suggested the Barricade flashbacks. Thanks so much, girl!
So sorry for the long wait. Seriously. I was facing an incredible, horrible case of writer's block. :( But here's the next chapter, and I sincerely hope you enjoy it! Excuse any typos, because I'm exhausted. I can't wait to hear how you like this one!
Chapter 25
The ground beneath me trembles almost as badly as my body is trembling. I press more firmly into my hiding spot, biting my lip to keep from screaming or wailing, my hand covering my nose and mouth to stifle the sound of my ragged, panicked breathing. The ground shakes again, over and over, with every step he takes. Close, close, closer.
"Come out, fleshling."
I'm hiding beneath the bodies of two broken cars, folded against each other, providing me with a small, nearly invisible nook. I watch him through a gap in the twisted metal; he's enjoying this too much, I realize. I take a moment to remind myself of where I am, digging my short, stumpy nails into my palms. He's only a few feet away from me, oblivious to my presence; he must know I'm here, though. Surely he can sense me. He must be toying with me.
He turns in a slow circle, chuckling lowly. "I can smell you," he rumbles, and his foot lands inches from my shelter. I flatten myself against the far car, determined not to be spotted. No. I will not lose, not again. I look down at the ground, careful not to crunch any broken glass. I poke my head up out of my shelter when he's not looking, just able to spot my safe spot, marked by two glowing flares. So close, but so far.
He's too close now. I can't run for it; if I do, he'll catch me.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he sings softly, his voice warped, dark. I swallow and release my lip from between my teeth, panting softly as sweat snakes down my spine. I could reach out and touch him right now, but I don't. I edge back, my fingers splayed against the twisted car, feeling the grooves in the metal, finding the back lights, the bumper as I crawl around it, putting distance between us, however small.
I crouch, my thighs burning and twitching, pent up energy coiled within my muscles. He makes a show of sniffing the air before turning to face my direction. His eyes land on my cars, and I have to force myself not to scream as he grabs the one I had just been hiding beneath and flings it away in an almost triumphant gesture; the car hits the ground a few yards away, grating, sending up sparks. I clamp my hand over my mouth. He makes a confused sound.
A silver Corvette suddenly shrieks around the corner, tires sending up smoke as he floors it in my direction. My heart stops.
"Ironhide!" Sideswipe barks, tipping him off to my presence.
"Shit!" I shriek, diving out of the way as Ironhide lifts the second car, tossing it away, laughing. I scramble to my feet and take off running and Ironhide gives chase. Sideswipe zips in front of me, hitting the brakes, not even giving me time to slow myself. I slam into his door and bounce off, my shoulder taking the brunt of the fall. I get to my feet and run desperately for Ironhide, using my small size to my advantage as I slip between his legs as he reaches for me.
The game is simple: If I reach the flares, I live and I win. If someone catches me, I die and I lose.
We've been split into groups just to make it a little fairer. Mudflap, Skids, and Bumblebee are on my side, playing the role of Autobots. Ironhide, Sideswipe, Ratchet, and Optimus are all against us, playing Decepticons. Wheeljack is sitting out, helping keep score with Lennox and the other soldiers who had gathered to watch.
The odds are severely against us. Lennox had said that it didn't matter if we lost, that what mattered were my abilities. The score so far? Decepticons-4: Autobots and Parker-0. At least everyone was getting some good training out of this, battling and fighting each other. All I had to do was make it to the flares, which was proving much harder than I had expected.
I'd been cocky. Now I'm feeling embarrassed.
"No, no, no, no," I scream as I run and they give chase. They're obviously showing off, every single goddamned one of them, transforming needlessly, gracefully, soaring through the air, rolling around in front of me, firing at each other. "Where the hell is my team?" I scream to no one in particular. I haven't seen any of my Autobots yet this round, and I'm feeling more than a little abandoned.
The tarmac outside has been set up to look like a city in the midst of battle. Cars from junkyards are twisted together or parked, to be used as shelter, obstacles, weapons, whatever.
"Sideswipe killed Mudflap," Lennox calls in response to my question. "Bumblebee is incapacitated thanks to Optimus, and Skids is fighting with Ratchet."
"Goddammit," I scream as I dive beneath a lifted truck, crawling on my elbows and knees. Sure enough, if I listen, I can hear Skids and Ratchet going at it. Glass shatters around me as Ironhide lifts the truck, tossing it behind him as though it weighs no more than a toy car. Sideswipe looms behind him as I roll to my feet, running at them again. They can't shoot me if I'm too close to them. They both reach for me at once, nearly colliding with each other, their hands tangling as I leap between their fingers.
"You idiot," Ironhide snarls, shoving Sideswipe.
"Communicate, guys," Lennox hollers. "You have to communicate!"
A path of cars has been cleared by the faux battle, creating a straightaway; the only thing in my path is Mudflap's dramatically crumpled body. I sprint for him, stumbling over his body, snarling "drama queen" at his death-pose; mouth wide open, eyes crooked, body splayed. I keep running toward the flares at the end of the straightaway; off to my left I see Bumblebee, just hanging out, leaning against some cars, clearly out of the game; to my right, Skids is battling Ratchet.
Optimus comes out of nowhere in his massive Peterbilt form, shrieking from behind a huge, destroyed bus, driving straight for me. I don't let up, I keep running. We're close, close, closer—
"Roadkill, get out da way!"
I don't have time to react. Skids hits me from the side, slamming on the brakes; my body rolls over his hood into his windshield, cracking the glass, knocking the wind out of me. He comes to a sharp halt, tossing me to the ground where I land, covering my head.
"Goddammit!" I snarl at him, getting to my feet. "What the fuck?" I'm way too competitive to lose this way. I kick him and he transforms. "You just ran over your own teammate!"
The game has clearly come to a pause.
"Roadkill, I didn't mean ta—"
"You killed me! You just killed me!"
"You ain't dead—"
"If this was real life I would be!" I pause for a breath, panting. "I can't believe you ran me over!"
"You came outta nowhere—"
"How the hell did I come out of nowhere?" I demand. "I was right here the whole damn time! I was right here! Ironhide, shut up!"
Ironhide is behind me laughing his ass off. Everyone has gathered around us, and most look amused, if a little worried.
"So much for Decepticon training, huh?" Ironhide laughs, and Sideswipe snickers. I feel my face heat, embarrassment burning through my body.
"What's the score now?" Ratchet sniggers. "Five to zero?"
My team all looks annoyed and dejected, Skids especially. I know I should feel bad for yelling at him, but I'm too angry right now. I am not good at losing, especially not five times in a row, and especially not at the hands of my own teammate.
"Again," I snap, "let's go again."
Optimus sighs. "Perhaps you should rest," he tells me, and I turn on him.
"No," I snarl, "I don't need to rest. I need to work alone. I can't work with a team! They run me over!" I shoot Skids a withering glare, and he stares at the ground. I fold my arms as Optimus looks thoughtful.
"Come on, Prime," Ironhide says, sounding cocky. "Another round. This one won't last long, and we could use the practice."
"Fine," Optimus says. "Bumblebee, Mudflap, Skids; sit this one out."
Bumblebee makes a sad whirring noise, and Mudflap and Skids look put out as they walk away, going to sit by the makeshift stands where a few soldiers are gathered, watching.
"Be careful," Optimus warns me. My brother whoops from his seat.
"Yeah! Go Parker! Whoo!"
I roll my eyes and hop up and down on the balls of my feet. The Autobots—or Decepticons, as they're pretending to be—spread out, vanishing among the cars, leaving me alone. I walk back to my starting position on the other end of the arena, stretching, determined. Barricade had never trained me to work well with others. Every man for himself, he had always told me, watch your own back. Play dirty. Survive.
"Play dirty," I murmur to myself, "survive." I take a few deep breaths. "Don't go easy on me," I warn the robots. "Be serious."
A few affirmatives ring through the air as I wait for Lennox to blow the air horn, signaling the start of this new round. I'm sure the robots are planning, and I know I should be, but I'm not the best planner. Barricade always said that there was no time to think. Instinct was my only choice, and I wasn't going to change my ways now.
"Ready," Lennox yells. "Go!"
The horn blows and my muscles twitch as my body launches into motion, sending me darting forward. It takes me a moment to realize that nothing is happening—nothing. There is no sound, no transformations, silence. This gets me more than anything else, the lack of activity. They could be anywhere, lurking, watching me. I slow to a walk, which is stupid, because I should take advantage of this moment and run. My skin prickles. I know they're watching me, but I can't see them. I'm too short; I can only see the cars closest to me.
I've never been good at hide and seek, never dealt well with the anticipation. The knowledge that I'm being watched, right now, is making my skin crawl, making me want to burst out of my skin, to scream, to do something. I can't handle the suspense. When Savannah and I had played hide and seek as kids, I'd always blown my cover running too soon, unable to stand sitting and waiting, not knowing when he would come for me.
Barricade had beaten some of that out of me, but old habits die hard. I only take another moment to survey the area before I draw on the things Barricade had taught me.
Avoid the open.
I dart to a cluster of cars, edging around them.
Take in your surroundings.
I glance around, searching for cover. I dart from one car to another, keeping a lookout for them, listening for the sound of tires rolling over gravel, of crunching glass. When I've reached a span of little cover, I just make a break for it, sprinting hard and fast.
With a roar, Sideswipe swoops in out of nowhere, the Corvette gunning for me. He's coming for me hard and fast, and my first instinct is to do the move I'd used on Barricade in the battle. At the last second I jump up, the action made easier by Sideswipe's low frame, my foot connecting with his hood. His horn blares.
"No!" Barricade's harsh voice is a snarl. I'm curled up on the cement behind him, grasping my knee, gritting my teeth against the pain. "That's all wrong! Do it again!"
I stagger to my feet, limping. Barricade backs up, putting some distance between us. It's my fourth month training with him, and he's an incredibly difficult teacher, almost cruel. I stand and face him.
"Rush me!" he orders, and I sprint forward as he burns out, charging me. At the last second, though, I veer to the right, throwing myself to the ground and rolling. Barricade roars.
"I'm sorry," I cry. "I can't do this!"
"You will do this!"
"Barricade—"
"We will be here all night," he says, "I do not need the rest. We are not stopping."
"But Barricade—"
He hits me with the car, threatening to crush me. "Get up."
He backs up away from me and we try it again. Barricade, I know, won't stop. You don't play chicken with Barricade, because he will hit you, and he will kill you, and he won't care. I jump at the last second, but, just like the last few times, my legs give out from his momentum and I crumple, doing something akin to a belly flop, sprawling on his windshield and hood. He slams on the brakes, throwing me back.
"Wrong!"
"This is impossible!" My voice comes out as a wheeze as I cradle my throbbing knees.
"Again!"
I bite my lip against the building sob. I can't do this. I can't do this. He's insane! This time, I don't jump; I'm too tired. I can't do this. He slams into me, knocking me back.
"Again!"
We try again, and I still don't jump. I'm thrown to the ground again.
"Again!"
He gets the same results.
"We can do this all night. Again!"
Again, I am knocked to the ground. This time he transforms above me, grasping my bruised body in his huge hand, forcing me to stand as I cry softly. When was the last time I'd had sleep? Training sessions with Barricade are brutal. He makes me go until my body gives out and, so far, my body is still going.
"You will stand," he says, "and you will do this again. We are not stopping until you get it right."
"This is impossible."
"You will try again. When the time comes, you want to be able to defend yourself against the Decepticons, right?"
I nod.
"This is how you get to that point. You are weak. You are useless, nothing more than Megatron's disgusting little pet. You cannot handle yourself in battle. At this rate, you will get killed within seconds. Pathetic." He snorts. "Did you not love your family?"
"Leave them out of this."
"It is vengeance you seek, is it not? This is how you get your vengeance. Now try again!"
He shoves me harshly to the ground and I pick myself up. He leaves me standing there, fuming, and we face off again, like two cowboys in an old movie. We charge.
My feet connect with Sideswipe's low roof, one of them catching, and I go down, hitting the pavement hard, landing on my knees and my stomach. I grunt, forcing myself to my feet, sprinting. I hear Sideswipe's tires screech behind me; the back of my neck prickles as he approaches. I reach for my belt and grab the weapon Wheeljack had created for me—a simple explosive, one that just goes up in smoke rather than actually exploding and causing damage.
I spin around with a shriek and hurl it at his shoulders, pulling the tab like a grenade. I hear it hit him with a metallic clink, exploding into smoke near his face. He coughs as the smoke blinds him and I use this to my advantage, running for the flares again. Sideswipe makes a furious noise, spluttering.
Ratchet attacks me next, boxing me in with Optimus and Ironhide. I stay between Ratchet's legs, almost wanting to laugh triumphantly. They can't attack me, not with Ratchet in the way.
"Ratchet, move," Ironhide orders. He pretends to try and step on me to end the game, but I grab on to the metal on his legs, holding on for dear life. He tries to shake me off, and someone is laughing. Finally he dislodges me, sending me rolling over the pavement away from the others before I take off again, screaming as Optimus gives chase.
"Here, fleshy, fleshy, fleshy," Ironhide calls with an evil laugh. I keep screaming, my blood rushing in my ears. I hate, hate, hate being chased. Ironhide lifts a car and hurls it in my direction; it lands in front of me and I skid to a halt.
I nearly slam into the car as it lands in front of me, glass exploding. Barricade is hard on my heels, chasing me through the abandoned town—somewhere in Canada, I think. No one lives here anymore, and he's taking advantage of that fact. I scale the car, panting, my hands and knees bleeding. As I reach the top, Barricade sends me flying with a flick of his wrist.
"Look around you," he orders, "take advantage of your surroundings!"
I slam into a brick building and slide down, landing on my knees. I look around.
"Too late," he snarls, "you've taken too long. You're dead. Don't think—just act."
I get up and rush him, sprinting between his legs. He reaches for me but misses; due to my smaller size, I'm more agile. I shove my elbow through the window of an old car and unlock it, trying to hotwire it.
"What are you doing? You don't have that kind of time!" His hand comes down, crushing the car with me inside of it. He hits it with a small blast of something, and it catches fire. "Now what?" He lifts the car and tosses it with me still inside—hard enough to hurt, but not to kill. I wriggle out when it lands, my body sore, bruised from our other training sessions. I break into an old brick building, busting the window, looking for a place to hide.
"Better," he says, "but not good enough."
The building crumples around me and he drags me back outside by my ankles. He tosses me into a car. Thank God I've been training with him for so long; in the beginning, I wouldn't have been able to handle this.
"Ugh," he retches, "you've gotten blood on my hand." I snicker. "Look around you," he says again, looming over me. I back into the car. "What can you use as a weapon?"
There's nothing around me. Concrete chunks won't hurt him. Neither will glass, or—
That's it. The cars.
I scramble over the car Ironhide tossed in my way, heart pounding, elated. I know how to win this round, and without having to worry about my teammates, it's suddenly clear to me. I rush to a stack of "wrecked" cars, the Autobots a few yards behind me. I don't have much time. I open the gas tank on one and press my nose to it, inhaling—empty.
"Shit," I moan desperately, rushing for the next car. When I inhale, the scent of gasoline burns my nostrils. I'm ecstatic. I reach for my belt, grabbing my last little explosive. It explodes into smoke, sure, but it does throw off a few sparks, and one spark is all I need. One spark to start a blaze.
They're closer now, right on me. I pull the tab, the tiny smoke-grenade suddenly urgent in my hands. I have thirty seconds tops. With an urgent scream I shove it into the gas tank and sprint away. The Autobots are too big, they can't stop in time.
Run, run, run, run, run, RUN!
"Move!" Optimus's voice is a bellow. I sprint for the flares. How much time is left? Am I far enough away—
BOOM!
The sound rocks through my body, sending me to my knees as the shockwave hits. It's not a huge explosion, at least—
BOOM! BOOM!
The other cars go off after the first, their gas tanks having ignited. I roll over so that I'm sitting, my hands braced behind me. The car pile has become a huge fireball; the Autobots are close to it, but not close enough to be hurt. They all look stunned; they shield their faces against the blaze. Ratchet swears; his arm is on fire, and I can't help but smirk. A little fire won't hurt him. Serves him right for shaving my hair! He puts it out quickly.
"Ha!" I cry, "I win! In your—" My words are cut off as I scream; someone is lifting me into the air.
"You were saying?"
"Shit." Ironhide has me.
"Dead."
"Ugh."
"Autobots-six. Parker-zero."
I fold my arms crossly, but I feel better about losing this time. At least I'd done it myself and hadn't been run over by my own teammate.
"Well played," Sideswipe commends, coming up to us with Optimus and Ratchet. The soldiers are cheering. "Stupid and risky, but well played."
"Thanks."
"Either way," Ironhide says gruffly. "You still died."
I roll my eyes and glance up at Optimus. He meets my eyes and he looks proud. In that moment, I don't care that I technically lost. Right now, I feel as though I've won.
"So," I urge Optimus, hoping for a compliment. "Whatcha think?"
He gives me a knowing smile. "I think we should take a break, for your sake."
"Yeah, sure," I say. "You're just tired, old man. We all know you're the one who needs the break."
Ironhide makes an annoyed scoffing noise as Optimus chuckles. Ironhide places me on the ground and they leave to put out the fire; I turn to the stands, jogging toward Lennox and Savannah, who hugs me.
"You stink," he tells me, wrinkling his nose.
"Gee, I wonder why."
He dumps some water on my beanie-clad head and, rather than getting angry, I tilt my head back, letting it run into my mouth and over my throat and chest, cooling me. I feel hot and sticky and jittery. But triumphant. They guide me back to the stands where I sit, stretching my cramped muscles and guzzling water.
"How are you feeling? How's your head?"
"Fine," I say, and Savannah's eyes are dark and worried. "They've been going easy on me, don't worry." He sighs, nudging my shoulder.
"You're kind of amazing," he tells me after a moment, nodding to my spluttering fireball; it's belching smoke.
"Thanks," I say, "I had a good teacher." Immediately, I realize I've said the wrong thing. His eyes darken and, beside me, Lennox stiffens. "Ah—I mean—"
"I know," he says after a moment. "Forget it. The point is, you're stupid, and that was dangerous, and I want to kill you, but I have to admit... that was a pretty bomb explosion." He snorts at his own pun. "Get it? Bomb?"
"Oh, God."
Ratchet insists that I take more time to rest, and instead suggests that he and the other Autobots go at it one-on-one. To make it more fair, Lennox writes down all their names, puts them in his hat, and draws them out in pairs. The first pair is Skids and Wheeljack, followed by Ironhide and Ratchet, then Bumblebee and Optimus, and finally Mudflap and Sideswipe. We all cheer as the first two take their places, squaring off. I fully expect my Skids to win, and I make a mental note to apologize to him later. I'd been a major bitch.
I cheer Skids on as he faces off with Wheeljack. It takes a few moments, but Skids finally gets the upper hand. Soon enough, he "kills" Wheeljack, and Ratchet and Ironhide take their places.
"Ohh," I say eagerly, "this one will be good." Optimus is crouched off to the side so as not to block anyone's view, and he gives me a look. I smile at him, and he makes a small motion with his head. My smile widens, and he twitches his finger slightly, a come here motion. I smack my brother's knee, because it's in my way, and make my way over to Optimus. I can feel Savannah watching me, but I ignore him as Optimus scoops me up, placing me on his shoulder, where I lean against his face comfortably.
"You did well," he tells me as we watches the fight. It's vicious. Ironhide is brutal.
"Thanks," I tell him. "So did you."
"Thank you," he chuckles. "That trick with the cars. It was—"
"Stupid, I know," I grumble. "Savannah told me. But you have to admit, it was pretty cool."
"I was going to say that it was clever," he says, "but stupid works just as well."
I laugh. "Feel better about leaving me behind? I'm not so defenseless after all, huh?" I elbow his cheek gently.
"No," he says. "I don't feel much better. You died six times."
"Yeah, but—"
"No," he says again with a sigh. He turns to face me, his eyes affectionate. "I admit, I was relieved to see that you are capable. But I still don't want to leave you alone. Please don't blow up any cars while I'm gone. If something had gone wrong—"
I roll my eyes. "I've got this."
"I'm sure. But I'll still worry."
That's sweet. I smile at him. "Don't worry," I tell him. "Just—"
Ironhide slams Ratchet down only feet in front of us. Instantaneously, Optimus has his hand in front of me, shielding me. "Watch it!"
"Ironhide's amazing," I breathe after they've gone away, still fighting. The air hums, a shockwave rocking me as Ironhide blasts Ratchet with a cannon."Whoa."
"Ironhide is talented," Optimus says with a nod. Finally, Optimus "kills" Ratchet, who shoves him away in irritation. Optimus stands, placing me back on the makeshift bleachers. Bumblebee bounces to his feet, his radio crackling to life.
"Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee," his radio says. He's such a ham; he's totally eating up this moment. He jogs past the crows, knees bent, hand cupped to where his ear should be, motioning with his other fingers. We give him what he wants, cheering. He perks his head and then shakes it, doorwings drooping. Then he gives us a sharp look, motioning up with his arms, egging the crowd on, bouncing up and down, hand cupped to his ear. We cheer even louder, and he hops up and down, rocking us all slightly.
"Let me hear you!" His radio calls, stealing a line from a football movie.
"Bumblebee!" We all chant, breaking up the word so that it sounds like Bum-ble-bee. He cups his hand to his ear again and we're all chanting, yelling. He pretends to flex for us and we scream, everyone laughing, lighthearted.
"Go Bumblebee," I laugh as Savannah whistles for him. He bows, then draws his fists up into a boxing stance, playing Eye of the Tiger loudly, hopping, his fists flying out in Optimus's direction playfully, but never hitting him.
"You ready, old timer?" A line that I'm sure is stolen from an old cowboy movie. He gives Optimus a playful, challenging look, and Optimus crouches slightly.
"Oooh," the crowd says in response to Bumblebee's taunt. He's talking shit. The crowd of us has started up a competition, cheering for opposite sides.
"Bum-ble-bee!"
"Op-tim-us!"
"Bum-ble-bee!"
"Op-tim-us!"
Optimus actually crooks his fingers at us, grinning to himself, egging us on slightly. I feel like I'm in high school again, watching a football match.
"Oh, get on with it," Ironhide bellows.
"Round one," Bumblebee's radio chirps, definitely from a boxing match, followed shortly by the sharp ding ding! that signals the start of the round. And then they go at it.
Both of them are amazing; swift, talented, strong and graceful. Optimus has a height advantage, but Bumblebee uses his smaller size to dodge more easily. He even transforms, something that none of the others had done so far, in order to evade Optimus. They definitely don't go easy on each other, and though I've seen it before, they never cease to amaze me. They shoot at each other, and Optimus uses his blades, and they even go hand-to-hand. The sun has set by the time a winner has been decided—Optimus, obviously. He'd pinned Bumblebee to the ground, standing on his back with one foot, weapong directed at his head. The crowd stands, cheering; it was easily the best match so far.
Optimus steps off of Bumblebee and offers him his hand; Bumblebee takes it and Optimus thumps him on the back as Mudflap and Sideswipe take their places. My heart is pounding, adrenaline flowing; Lennox and Savannah's eyes are bright from watching the fights. It must be so amazing for them, I realize, fighting alongside the robots, watching them spar, knowing that all of that raw power is on their side. We watch the next fight, which is over quickly. Mudflap, though talented himself, is up against the wrong opponent. He's no match for Sideswipe's deadly grace, not without his brother, and these two specialize in cooperative attacks.
When it's all over with, I rush from the stands to my boys— Mudflap and Skids. I beam up at them, hugging their legs in turn.
"You guys are amazing," I tell them, smiling. The good mood all the soldiers had had is contagious. "Great job!" Bumblebee gives me a look. "You, too," I tell him, somehow breathless.
The best comparison that I can think of, this feeling inside, is like the feeling you get at concerts. Have you ever gone to a concert and been surrounded by so many thousands of people, and just felt that energy? That knowledge that, at least in that one moment, you're all alive, you're all connected? And it's great, and you're all like one being, and when the singer comes out, when the band steps on stage, you just get that rush, and you know everyone else there is feeling it, and it takes your breath away, and it flows through you until you're standing there, breathless, lost in the crowd, chills raking up your spine, chest tight, throat working only enough for you to scream. And then the moment steals the breath from your lungs, and you're standing there, on the verge of tears, somehow connected to everyone else, knowing, feeling that there's something else there, at least for that moment. For that one moment, you are really, truly alive.
For some reason, I have that feeling right now, surrounded by giddy, whooping soldiers. We'd only been watching robots battle, but the feeling had been there, bonding us all, relaxing us, because we were all feeling, and we weren't scared, we were proud, proud to be human, to be able to call thes beings our allies. Our friends. I know we'd all felt it, sitting there, cheering from them. And even though there were maybe a few hundred of us total, very few, we had all felt it.
That's why I'm breathless.
Skids reaches for me, and I wonder if he feels it too. Does Skids feel it? Does Optimus feel it? They'll be gone tomorrow, off to find the new Autobot. But for now, we're all here, all safe, all alive. I want to hold on to this.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you, Skids," I tell him, still riding that wave.
"I'm sorry I ran ya over."
"I love you. I didn't mean to yell."
"I love ya, too. I didn't mean to kill ya."
We stare into each other's eyes for a moment, and I know it's forgiven, and I know he's feeling it too. I smile and hug his face, and he hugs me back, and somehow I'm in Optimus's hands. I know that this isn't the time or place to say goodbye, but somehow it is. It's the perfect time, the perfect place, surrounded by people we love, giddy, all of us feeling that something else, something bigger than us in this moment, not thinking about tomorrow.
Optimus lifts me to his face. Does he feel it? He must. He must.
So even though we have more training to do, and even though I know I'll say goodbye to him again before he leaves, I can't stop myself from doing it now, because I'm afraid I won't get a moment more perfect than this one. I dig my fingers into the faint grooves of his metal, drawing myself flush against him, laughing, still breathless, my mind buzzing, heart soaring.
"You be careful tomorrow, Optimus Prime," I tell him, resting my cheek against his forehead. I know he understands why I'm doing this now. "You come back to me." I echo his last words to me from weeks ago.
And then I rub my palms gently to his forehead, a feather light brush, before I lean in and press my lips to the spot just between his eyes where my hands had just skimmed. Optimus goes completely rigid for a moment, making an odd noise, and I keep my lips on the bitter tasting metal for maybe three long seconds before I pull away, and he stares into my eyes, and for a moment it's just us, just staring, connected to each other and to everyone else. I hear laughter and whooping around me, the sounds of men being men, but it all seems very vague. Finally, Optimus speaks.
"I will," he says, his eyes turning my skin blue as he dusts a huge palm over my forehead, his eyes dark and gentle and something else I can't quite place. He sets me back on the ground where I'm jostled by rowdy soldiers, all of them chanting some military chant, egging Bumblebee on, the ham that he is, as he and Sideswipe race each other. My brother takes my hand; he'll be going with them, tomorrow. Roger nudges my hip with his, and it's still there, that connection between us all, each of us reveling in being alive with other humans. Sideswipe wins the race, skidding to a cocky halt in front of us, and we cheer for him.
But eventually, all highs fade, and we all come back to earth, where there are battles to be fought, wars to be won, Autobots to rescue. Training resumes as normal, and the matches get steadily more agressive before the robots finally stop, calling it a night; they all need to get as much rest as they can to prepare for tomorrow. So we say good night, and they head inside, and Lennox follows them to plan with Optimus, and I stay out udner the stars, glad that my training, it seems, is done for the day.
So I lean against my brother and we stare up at the stars, and he holds me, and I pretend like I'll have him forever, like he won't be leaving me tomorrow and placing himself in danger. For the night, I pretend that none of them are leaving me, and it makes it more bearable.