Hey guys. Chap's short. Desire to focus on school, general soul sappage from work, lack of motivation and splintering interests have made getting this chapter out difficult, sometimes barely got out a few lines in a sitting... Still, trying to pick it back up, rereading All Hail Megatron and such. Maybe I'll be inspired, or something ;) Trying to avoid One Disaster Less-verse right now, since I'm having enough trouble with OE as it is. The plus side is that after this chap I can start the next little arc which was introduced in ODL... yay :)
I spent hours in the brig burning with guilt. Sideswipe and Hot Rod were similarly plagued, but Sunstreaker recharged effortlessly until six in the morning, at which point he went about his business with nary a single unhappy mood swing.
The trine was grim all day. Starscream was frustrated and hateful more often than not, though I couldn't be sure that wasn't unusual,Thundercracker seemed to be undergoing something requiring a great deal of patience and Skywarp was nothing but a wall of resentment. I was surprised I could feel his brothers' echoes through him at all.
I was replaying my conversation with Thundercracker when my embarrassment just became too much. With a strangled buzzing groan I curled into a fetal position on my cell's berth and did all I could to escape.
Within minutes I'd melted into a state of mind that had become familiar for two years of my life, while I was alone in space. I reflected Hot Rod's mood thoughtlessly, parroting his distress back without truly feeling it. Meanwhile, my systems began to run pointless checks on solar conditions and nearby matter… My collision sensors were so wholly tricked into thinking I was in flight that they flashed wildly under the impression I was surrounded by dangerously solid objects bound to strike me.
Hot Rod's worry deepened, so mine did as well. After several minutes of perfect reflection, I earned the slightest curiosity from Skywarp. His resentment faded slightly, and I could practically see his tense face relaxing just the tiniest fraction. My involuntary hope and relief bubbled up, but he shut down on me immediately and I deflated back into Hot Rod's emotions. I stopped listening to anyone but him after that.
"Bravura, listen to me," his voice broke into my mindlessness after what seemed like a few minutes. "You've been at it all day, come on. It's not that bad."
"You feel it," I grumbled against the wall. "You know how mad he is."
"He'll get over it. I felt how much he loves you, and there is no way he'd let this ruin everything."
"He killed them," I sighed.
Hot Rod was silent at that.
"He murdered them. Not even quickly. He made sure it was torture. He loved it."
"What is upsetting you, Bravura? Skywarp being mad at you, or his past?"
"Both," I sighed. "I want to talk to him about his past, but… he won't see me."
"Wallowing won't help," my brother said, sounding remarkably like Sunstreaker. "Snap out of it. Start thinking about what you're going to say, how you're going to explain yourself. Don't make excuses, but tell him honestly what happened and what your concerns are. Be direct with him."
I rolled over for the first time in nearly a day to look at my brother. He was standing on the other side of the bars, looking tired and strained. Guilt panged at my spark. "What did you say to Sideswipe? He loves you."
Hot Rod frowned. "I didn't say anything yet. He knows I don't love him like he loves me. We'll talk about it, eventually… Just not right now."
Sighing heavily, I stood up and went to the bars. Reaching carefully through the faintly buzzing barrier, I touched his arm. "I'm really sorry, brother. For getting you caught up in this, for being so selfish."
He put his hand on mine. "It's alright. Everything will be fine, and maybe… Being connected to the Command Trine will make a difference. Thundercracker seems reasonable, and if we can convince Starscream there's something to gain by helping us bring Megatron down… maybe we can work something out. Everything you and Ultra Magnus have told us indicates the forces are scattered, weakened."
"The Combaticons are building an army," I told him, memory finally serving me. "Skywarp infiltrated the ranks briefly, and there were… a bunch."
"Any reason to believe they'll be mobilizing any time soon?" I could see the fighter in him, the leader Rodimus, while he talked about war. I didn't like it.
"I'll ask Skywarp the next time I see him. Or Thundercracker," I sighed.
"Thank you," my brother mumbled, rubbing my hand. "I know this is all hard for you, but-"
"What happened to Forcia?" I blurted. "I know Artemis is ok, and Curia, but… Whatever happened to her?"
"She's fine," Hot Rod shrugged. "A couple of our mechs found her and stayed with her. She was never even captured."
I sniffed and crossed my arms. "Figures. I wouldn't have minded her getting carried off."
My brother grinned for a moment, allowing some of the weight of the day to roll off of him. I smiled back, and for a few seconds I could pretend everything was ok.
"Mirage wants to go on the road trip soon," he finally said, rolling his doubtlessly tense shoulders.
"Ok," I nodded. I'd been sort of cold with the mech, and I regretted it now. It'd just been a bad time. "Maybe I'll fiddle with the generator he gave me, see about making a new holoform."
"Will she look like…" Hot Rod trailed off.
I shook my head. "Maybe like yours."
He nodded. "Ok. Are you… feeling better? If I go recharge, are you going to turn into a zombot on me again?"
"I'll stay sane," I said, hugging myself. "I just… needed some perspective. It's not the end of the world, even if it feels that way now."
The Prime nodded, and with a quiet goodnight left me to my thoughts. I finally recharged.
"You present us with a problem, Bravura," Prowl said. He was sitting on the other side of his desk, upright and official in the sterile office he spent so much time in. Even the datapads he usually kept carefully arranged for easy viewing and reviewing were put away.
"I'm aware," I said, also aware that I was being sulky and thoroughly not caring.
"Now that you're back on the feet and back in the air you already seem to be having trouble dealing with the City and its rules."
"Yes," I sighed, leaning sideways in my chair, built to accommodate mechs much larger than me. I rested my chin in my palm, staring into Prowl's distant optics. He didn't seem impressed by my casual performance.
"Devcon spoke to me," Prowl continued. "He tells me that you've grown used to coming and going as you please, and 'getting away with murder' as the humans might say. You're so adjusted to freedom that the thought of following protocol here doesn't cross your mind, or so he believes. Is this anywhere close to the truth?"
"Guess so," I said, crossing my legs. "He knows better than anybody."
"He thinks I should give you some responsibility. Something to keep you moving and busy. Rodimus agrees."
I couldn't help my grimace. Everybody was talking about what was best for me, but nobody was asking.
"What do you have in mind?" I asked.
"I want you to pick a mentor," Prowl said, leaning forward slightly. "Someone who matches you in personality and ability.
"Ah, yeah? Who?"
"I've compiled a shortlist of mechs suitable and willing, should you choose them. Breakaway is on the list, being a flyer, though I somewhat advise against it. Also, Mirage or Hound, since you seem to have had plenty of experience with holograms while you were away. Blaster would be willing to take you on as well, and could probably teach you more than a little in communications and code breaking. Your experience at the neutral hospital prepares you for tutelage under Ratchet or First Aid… both medics are willing. Springer is another option, though he is a volunteer and not one I would've chosen myself."
He wasn't giving me the choice I really wanted to here: Nobody. But if it helped me get out of hot water and maybe improved my skills at something at the same time…
"Who would you pick if you were me?" I asked.
Prowl considered me, then cracked a small smile. "I'd ask for time to think it over. Visit Washington D.C. and the Trion. Get to know some of the mechs there. They have an incredibly skilled crew and it might do well for you to get to know them before choosing a mentor."
"You think a mentor will really make a difference?" I asked tiredly.
"Yes, I do. That having been said, you're unofficially assigned to the Trion for the next month."
I jerked upright.
"A month? Are you glitching, Prowl?"
"No." He smiled again.
"What if I say no?" I questioned, leaning over and pressing my palms to his desk. "I'm not a soldier, how many times do I have to say it?"
"You're not a soldier, but you are dependent on us," Prowl said without any obvious irritation. "If you want continuing repairs, supplies and safe haven you will comply."
I stared at the cool mech, then growled and stood up. "I'll think about it," I grumbled, hitting the pad at the door and stalking out.
There wasn't exactly much to think about. My options boiled down to doing what Prowl said and staying safe and energized, or ignoring him and running away. Where to, though? Nowhere was safe on Earth, not with Dirge's trine able to seek me out whenever they chose. If I left Earth, I left my brother and my… my bondmate behind. With unresolved issues between us, no less. I hated to admit it, but I was going to have to submit to Prowl's orders and go to the Trion.
Hot Rod slept with me that night, his unconscious shifting eventually bringing me more or less on top of him, his arms around me. He was nervous before he recharged, barely saying anything and shifting uncomfortably before sliding onto the berth next to me. Once he relaxed, though, he couldn't seem to get close enough.
Skywarp finally recharged, shortly after my brother blanked out. I listened as everyone faded off, Sideswipe and Thundercracker and Starscream all following within the hour. Sunstreaker remained awake, and though he wasn't especially distressed he seemed unfocused.
About one in the morning I still wasn't recharging, so I painstakingly extricated myself from Hot Rod's loving clutches and slipped from the room to find Sunstreaker. He was in the rec hall, sitting in front of the glowing TV and using the poor couch as an elbow rest. He barely glanced at me when I sat down.
We didn't speak, but… we didn't need to. By the echo of his spark I could tell that he was sort of irritated to see me, not because he was angry but because it made him uncomfortable. But I didn't say anything, and eventually the edge he'd built up at my arrival faded. The news was full of bad news on the TV. Very little seemed to be going right on Earth these days.
Around three AM he got up, slowly sliding to his feet and looking at the ceiling before looking at me.
"Sorry," he muttered.
"It's ok," I said, looking back before glancing down quickly.
He sighed, standing there moment longer before finally leaving. He was in recharge a half hour later, but by four AM I was still awake, though exhausted. My fitful recharge during my detention wasn't enough. When Hot Rod got up at five-thirty I decided to quit fighting it and went to the training room to think about which mentor to choose.
So who would you choose if you were Vura? Medic, communications, intelligence, scouting... Don't forget, there are also mechs on the Trion like Blurr, Nightbeat or even Drift. If you have any preferences drop me a line, I'm very undecided at this point.
R&R, lovelies