A/N Autobots! Six chapters left after this one and things, uh…really get intense.

28. There Are No Easy Answers

Diego Garcia

Flareup settled herself next to Cliffjumper. He'd pushed himself to seated on the repair frame. As she spoke, she saw him still, subconsciously, working his new mandible mounting, as if it still required some fine machining.

He looked…unfinished. The new plates were in need of their final machining before plating, so while half of his face was its usual red, the other was the bare silver color of naked metal. It was unsettling to look at, she admitted. "How are you feeling?" she asked, gently. She'd spent megacycles back on Cybertron doing relief and evacuation work—the soothing tone came automatically.

"A little numb, honestly," Cliffjumper said. He tried out a smile, which widened slowly as he felt no pain. "Don't even remember what happened."

"At Tunguska? I think Blackout hit you. One of your grenades."

Cliffjumper rubbed his face, ruefully. "Always knew those things were dangerous. How'd I get off the battlefield?"

"Sideswipe. He got you away and under cover."

Cliffjumper muttered something.

"I'm sorry?"

Cliffjumper looked toward the door of the repair bay. "Thought I could count on him to do the right thing in combat, that's all."

"He did the right thing," Flareup said. "He saved your life!"

"We had other priorities at the time."

Flareup sat back, frustrated. Did Cliffjumper realize what he was even saying? That Sideswipe should have left him to die? For some stupid mission objective? What even was the mission objective? The Decepticons were loading to leave. Flareup big on her lip. Remember, Flare, she told herself, this isn't about you. This isn't about your morality or your beliefs. He's the patient. Give him what he needs. "Well, you may disagree," she managed, "But I'm glad he saved you. I would have missed you like crazy." She managed a smile.

He smiled back, a little more confidently this time. "Thanks, Flare. I'd've missed me too." He swung his legs off the repair frame. To her alarmed look, he laughed. "Not gonna go make a break or anything. Just…the servos get a little stiff, you know? And tired of looking like a patient."

She subsided. "Sure. And I do worry a bit too much, don't I?" She grinned. "But you know you thought about making a break for it."

"Sure did." He looked around the repair bay. "Smells like damage in here. Not healthy, if you ask me. And too fraggin' quiet."

"It's empty now," she pointed out. Prowl had been moved to Alpha, apparently, simply because he refused to be sidelined. That's what Ironhide had told her on the way over here. She still felt…odd about Ironhide. He was wrong, he was so wrong. But about the humans…she was starting to see his point. At least in part. Not all of the humans were good. Some didn't deserve protection or honor. And…she didn't like feeling like that. Back on Cybertron she'd never judged the evacuees by faction or politics or anything. They were just…victims. What made these humans so different? Why couldn't she look at them the same way?

"Yeah, and I don't like quiet OR empty." He looked at her slightly sideways. "Weird, isn't it, that I have trouble remembering?"

"Not really, in the circumstances," she said. "It was pretty chaotic to begin with."

His shoulders seemed to relax. "Yeah, I guess. And I guess you know about that, too, right? I mean, well," he dropped his optics from her face, "on the Nemesis and all. Okay if you don't want to talk about it, though."

She considered. Well, she'd try. No one could blame her for not trying. "It wasn't chaotic at all. Except that one part, which I don't remember that well. But before and after…."

"You remember everything?"

"I do. Even how much it hurt, so I know it's real You know, you don't make up pain."

Cliffjumper rubbed his jaw. "Yeah. Can I ask you something? About how it went?"

"Sure." She waited. Now they ask, she was thinking. Now they slaggin' ask me what happened. NOW, when it's too late. Cliffjumper seemed at a loss. "Well," she said, finally, "I was kept in a repair bay. One of theirs. Looks totally different from ours. Not any sort of cell or anything. I wasn't restrained at all. I probably was locked in the repair bay, but it didn't exactly feel evil or anything. And they did all my repairs."

"Probably scanned your systems, too," Cliffjumper said, pointedly. Great, Flareup sighed. Another mech out to tell her what she already knew.

"Probably," she said. Was that supposed to be some kind of dig? If so, she wasn't falling for it. "And Ironhide's while we're at it." She forced herself to relax, as Cliffjumper's hands twitched apologetically. "Anyway, that's pretty much it until I was brought to the hangar. Starscream held me and the little red one did most of the damage."

"Where was Barricade?" His voice was measured. Like he was asking this for a reason.

"Up with Ironhide, I guess."

"So...," Cliffjumper frowned. "Don't mean to repeat gossip or anything, but, rumor has it you hurt Prowl so you could help Starscream rescue Barricade. Seems kinda farfetched, don't you think?"

"No." She got what this was all about. He didn't want to talk. Not for himself. He wanted to join the 'let's straighten up Flareup' parade. "I don't know if you have realized this yet, Cliffjumper, but holding the Decepticons up as some kind of example of brutality doesn't quite work anymore. Did you ever see yourself in combat? Sideswipe? Optimus? All of you are pretty brutal. I saw you and Sideswipe mowing down drones like it was a sparkling's game. So don't you dare think you can judge them." She found herself rolling agitatedly on her tire. "There's bad in us too. And just like there's bad in us, there's good in them. Even though they're the enemy. And if there is ever a way to stop this war, end it, that doesn't mean the annihilation of both fraggin' sides," she heard her voice start to shrill with emotion but didn't even care anymore, "it's through helping what's good."

"We have to punish what's bad, though. We can't let them get away with it."

"And when that 'punishment' makes us indistinguishable from them? Those humans at Tunguska couldn't seem to tell us apart, and I think I know why." She was fuming now, both at him and at her failure to keep her own cool. She couldn't do this. She thought she could change specialties. To do some good. She couldn't even comfort a patient without turning it into an argument.

She dropped back down to his eye level. "I was wrong to have attacked Prowl to do it. I know. I was a coward. I wanted to hide my actions because I knew you'd all disapprove. None of you would see my side anyway. None of you even question any more why we're doing what we're doing, much less what the frag it is we even think we're doing anymore." She found herself upright again. Clutched her hands into fists. Cliffjumper didn't deserve this. She was just…unleashing on him. It wasn't fair.

"Sorry," she said, tightly. "I just…have questions. And none of the answers seem to fit." Optical lens lubricant spilled over her cheeks.

"Hey," Cliffjumper said, softly. He pushed to his feet—a little unsteady still from the sensor block—and put his arms around her. "It's okay. We get it. I get it." He patted her shoulder. He didn't get it. He just wanted her to stop gushing all over him. Probably thought she was unstable. Well, Flareup, you're certainly acting pretty unstable, aren't you? "We're not like them, and deep down, you know that."

His condescension finally snapped something in her. She pushed away, not even caring how crazy she looked or sounded or how ugly. "You aren't like them. At least Starscream came looking. At least he cared. He could have been killed doing it. What did any of you do like that for Ironhide or me?"

Cliffjumper gaped at her, his new jaw grating with the action. He shook his head, in denial or disbelief.

Another failure, Flareup. What now?