Chapter 44
Sundance tried her hardest to ignore Grimlock the next several hours she spent in the med bay. Her optics remained on her brothers, or her creators, who had made it a point to always be present in case Backlash decided to take off again or another dinobot lost control. Her father was still seething, and he watched Grimlock like the mech was a sworn enemy. It bothered her, like it always did, but she couldn't bring herself to speak up.
She was still too pissed off with Grimlock.
Her optics landed on Flashback. He was dozing, having slipped into a light recharge after his pain receptors were deactivated so he couldn't feel Ratchet and their father realigning his knee joint. He was in recovery now, though his right leg was now missing armor. The sight of the new welds and wiring angered her, and she sank her claws into the berth hard enough to tear it. She told herself over and over again that if she ever saw that slagging dinobot again, she'd break all four of his legs and leave him in the middle of the desert to suffer.
Like he could sense her rage at his soldier, Grimlock shuffled. It was a subtle motion, but she caught it. He was feeling bad about what had happened, no matter how much he refused to admit it. Good.
Sundance looked at Backlash next, online and upright, and completely blocking out all the threats Ratchet made at him about not laying back and resting. Optimus had escorted him inside several hours ago, and her brother hadn't spoken or looked up since he settled back in his berth. He was still as stone, bare optics turned down to stare at his hands. Sundance's spark ached for him.
He had shut himself down, more than usual.
Gently, she prodded at the walls around his spark. She felt some sort of muted response inside, but they didn't come down. It was irritating and relieving at the same time. Irritating because he still refused to let them help him through this, relieving because he was actually reacting now, which was...improvement.
Sundance studied him for a while, wondering how he could stand sitting so still for so long. If it wasn't for the light in his optics and his presence in the bond, she would have thought that he was offline. She'd known the moment his spark had broken in the canyon that this would be his hardest battle yet, the one with himself and his memories inside his processor and spark. She worried, like they all did, but she knew deep down that Backlash was a survivor. He always had been. He could and would change himself to make it, as he had done as a sparkling when Lotus first became Viral.
What concerned her was how much of himself he would change, and whether it would be a good or a bad change. He'd isolated himself before, all but severing their bonds and throwing walls up around his spark. It was how he protected himself, by not allowing anyone to get close. She hated it, like Flashback did.
"Grimlock!" Ratchet huffed.
Sundance snapped out of her thoughts, twisting to look. Grimlock had made himself comfortable on the floor in front of her berth, sitting up with his back to it and his powerful, huge legs stretched out in front of him and effectively blocking the walkway. Sundance vented quietly, rolling her optics as the dinobot grumbled back. "What, medic?"
"Move!"
Grimlock stayed right where he was. His face was covered by that stupid visor and mask, so his expression was unreadable. Sundance knew that he was glaring at the mech, though. Grimlock said, like a giant toddler, "No."
Ratchet groped around on a work table, looking for a wrench. Sundance raised her optic ridges at Grimlock, "Get up and move." Grimlock tensed, tilting his head to look at her. "You're in the way," She continued, "get your pompous aft up and move." Grimlock just stared at her, not so much as twitching a finger.
She could feel her father watching them from across the room, and prepared herself to move in case something happened and a fight broke out. When the dinobot finally shifted, it was to stand up and promptly plop down on her berth. Sundance yelped in surprise when his bulk pushed her to the very edge. Their combined weight made the berth creak ominously. Sundance snapped at him, "Not up here!"
"Then where?" He asked, a smugness in his voice.
"Why don't you just take a walk in the Pit?!" She snarled, claws sliding over the smooth metal as he shifted to make himself comfortable. Her tail dropped, her claws anchored down before the rest of her body could follow. "Theres no room for you up here!"
"I'll make room."
"You two," Ratchet vented in exasperation. He shook his head, but walked past to approach one of the autobots still in stasis across the room. Sundance turned her full attention to Grimlock and unhooked both rear feet to slam into his side as hard as she could manage. He slid in the opposite direction with a grunt.
Sundance quickly filled the space, lifting her tail from the ground to curl around her hind quarters. Her optics widened when he stuck a hand between them and pushed back, sliding her across the berth and right over the edge. She hit the floor with a snarl, a mess of red armor at the foot of the berth.
Somewhere in the room, she heard Wheeljack start laughing. Flashback jolted awake at all the noise, jolting up to look around blearily. Backlash shifted just enough to look in her direction. Sundance stayed as she was, piled up in the most uncomfortable way possible on the floor. Her optics blinked rapidly, and her processor stuttered, trying to wrap around what just happened.
That BASTARD! She stood up, trembling as rage flooded her. Grimlock was leaning over, looking at her over the edge. She snapped her head up and bared her dentals at him. He said, "I told you I'd make room."
Sundance sprung up with a deafening roar, the brunt of her horns slamming into Grimlock's face and sending him back. The toe claws on her feet found the berth and locked down, propelling her body further. The force of all forty-two foot of her body hit him like a battering ram. She felt the shock of the impact rattle her frame, and realized that this probably wasn't the best idea. She was going to be sore for days, but she couldn't bring herself to care. And before he could register what had just happened, he was laid out flat on his back on the floor, and she was perched on the berth and glaring down at him. The entire med bay shook when he hit the ground, dust came down from the ceiling. Ratchet fell down with a violent curse.
She squinted at him when his visor cracked, the sound of breaking glass breaking the sudden silence. It shattered, breaking into a thousand tiny pieces the skittered down his face to the floor. His optics were wide and round with shock, the most she'd ever seen him show. He was completely stunned, not even moving when she stepped down to stand on his chest. She brought her bared dentals down towards his face, not caring that he could smash her to oblivion with one smack of his huge hands.
Flashback was the first to speak, his voice high with disbelief, "DAMN, 'Dance!"
Grimlock blinked at her, eyes still ridiculously wide. He said dumbly, "You broke my visor."
Sundance huffed, "Well thats too bad because I was really trying to break you fragging face."
"Easy, sweetspark," Her father soothed above them. She swung her head up, surprised that she didn't sense him standing there. His optics were bright with laughter, but his voice was calm as he leaned down to gently curve his arms around her. Sundance let him lift her back to the berth, tucking her face into his shoulder when he stroked a hand down her back. He was radiating love and pride through the bond, thrilled that she had stood up to Grimlock and held her own.
Sundance looked up, placing her chin on his shoulder to glance at Flashback when he exploded with laughter. He was sprawled out on his back, hands squeezing his sides like he was trying to hold himself together. Some ways behind him, Ratchet was getting to his feet with a murderous look on his face. She started to tell Flashback to calm down before he passed out when a trio of dinobots blew through the door with a challenging roar.
Sundance whirled, pulling away from her father to face them with her dentals bared, but her expression relaxed when she saw that all three of them, even Slag, were staring with wide optics at Grimlock. Ratchet snarled at them to 'get the slaggin' pit out', but they remained frozen in place with fists and weapons raised. It was Swoop who responded first, taking in how his leader was laid out beneath Sundance's berth. Clearing his throat, he chirped, "Yeah, she's strong alright! She totally flattened your aft, Grim!"
Sludge smiled at Sundance, optics bright and curious. Sundance returned it, though it was muted, and glanced back down at the huge mech on the floor. The king of the dinobots was dumbfounded, laying just as he fell with his huge optics staring up at her. Sundance pulled a page from his book and sent him a dental-baring grin.
Paradox sank into the shadows, dentals ground as she felt the sand and dirt get down in her joints. Demona had spent so long helping her clean up, and here she was, outside and in the sand. A warmth filled her spark when she thought of it, when Demona had called her a title she never thought she'd hear.
Paradox had watched Optimus and Backlash make the way back to the base, a debate taking over her processor and spark as she fought between the choice of revealing herself to the autobots and the choice of remaining hidden. She was good at hiding, she had always been good at it. It would be much easier than facing mechs she'd known years ago, mechs that Angelus had grown up with and befriended. They might welcome her back, but for one thing.
Angelus was gone.
There was a wide gap in her processor and her spark where the autobot medic had been, now empty and deep and cold. It had taken her years to get used to the silence inside, to not hearing the soft-sparked femme whisper about a life past and a sparkling lost. She was all Paradox now. The spark and processor were the same, but corrupted. No longer happy. No longer kind. No longer haunted by the knowledge that she was supposed to be good while she sparklessly slaughtered any foes in her path.
Ratchet and Optimus, Jazz, Ironhide...all of the older autobots that had seen Cybertron before it was ravaged by hate, they knew Angelus. They loved her as a comrade, as a friend. They would always accept her. Paradox was different. Paradox was none of the things that Angelus had been. The only thing they shared in common was a love for the sparkling that was intended to be Megatron's weapon.
Acceptance had never been a worry to Paradox in the past. She had resigned herself to a life of complete solitude years ago, in the wake of her rebirth on Cybertron. She had thrived in that isolation, with no fear for anyone as she carved her way through decepticon ranks. She was Paradox, Reaper of Sparks, and she needed no one.
Not until now.
Demona was her's. That was undeniable. The youngling was the sole focus of what affection Paradox had left within her. Now no one else mattered, as long as Demona accepted her. She didn't want to hide from her, and suddenly she didn't want isolation anymore. Her spark wanted to stay with her creation. And that meant staying with the autobots.
Even Paradox knew that she could not stay hidden from them forever.
Paradox started forward, dragging herself along across the sands as she made her way back towards base. Demona had promised to repair her, to replace her arm and leg and give her freedom again. Paradox knew that her creation would keep it, and could hardly wait for it to happen. She'd been dragging her frame through energon and dirt and filth for decades. It was time for her to walk again.
Though she was slow, she had learned long ago how to move and adjust herself to get along smoothly. Soon she was before the doors, hesitating just out of reach of the energon sensors. Paradox cursed herself when she realized that they may no longer read her signature as an ally. Getting out had been easy enough, but crawling back in would be a challenge. She couldn't risk coming in through the front anyway in case someone saw her. So, with a soft vent, she turned and pulled herself away and out of sight.
She requested a comm. line with Demona. It was answered immediately, "Optimus found Backlash."
"I know. I watched him lead your creation back inside." Paradox pulled in against the wall of the building when she heard the door open. "I came out to look for him without quite thinking things through, and now I cannot get back in."
"I'm on my way now."
Paradox nodded to herself, watching from the shadows as a younger autobot walked into sight, heading towards the gun range with a scowl on his face. She didn't recognize him, and he didn't see her, so she ignored him and waited. It wasn't long before the doors were opening again, and she caught sight of familiar red armor. Paradox started forward, coming out into the moonlight. Her creation's red optics lowered to her and softened. Demona motioned towards the doors, "The hall ways are clear. Everyone is settling for recharge."
Paradox nodded, slipping inside after Demona. A comfortable silence fell between them as they made their way through base. Paradox wasn't sure where they were going, but Demona seemed to know, and she trusted her. It wasn't until they were headed towards the wing holding personal quarters that Demona began, "I think we can start rebuilding your frame tomorrow."
Paradox paused, turning her head up to study her. "We?"
"Jolt and I," Demona said, "I thought that you might not be comfortable talking with Ratchet or Prime yet. I told my mech, and he's offered to help. Eventually Ironhide will have to forge new armor, but that won't be for several days."
Paradox nodded, "Thank you."
Demona hummed quietly in response before stopping in front of one of the rooms. "This is a guest room that hasn't been claimed yet."
Paradox blinked, staring at the door. She hadn't had a room to recharge in since the last time she'd stayed at the autobot base. Slowly, she approached it. The door slid open with a hiss, and she went inside. Demona stayed in the doorway, watching as she moved towards the berth. Paradox eyed it, gauging the distance between the floor and the surface, and she pushed herself up on her working leg. She managed to climb up into it, settling on the edge.
"When was the last time you recharged in a berth?" Demona asked quietly.
"Not since I made a temporary alliance with Optimus," Paradox answered.
"Where did you recharge when you were with Shockwave?"
Paradox turned to look at her, pale optics emotionless. "Wherever he couldn't reach me, and never longer than a few hours."
A look of understanding and recognition passed through the younger femme's optics. "Anywhere safe," Demona said, crossing her arms. "I'll be up all night with Jolt and the sparklings. I won't be far if you need anything."
"Thank you, Demona."
She nodded, "Recharge well." She left then, completely silent as she returned to her family. Paradox settled, laying herself down. For the first time in years, she allowed her tired frame to relax and rest.
Backlash watched his sister and the dinobot carefully through narrowed optics. Even though it had been hours since the incident that left Sundance seething and the dinobot flat on his back on the floor, he was watchful.
He had been distantly aware of Sundance's and Flashback's arrival, and had given them the slightest response when they tried to reach for his spark. He didn't really have the energy to reassure them, or the will. His frame and processor were exhausted, but no matter how many times Ratchet or his father told him to recharge, he couldn't. Not without seeing spilled energon, scattered parts, and smelling the stink of burning cables mingled with fried wiring.
Her fading blue optics never left his thoughts, that was hard enough, but to relive it, over and over was too much.
Backlash knew his limits, he knew them very well, and he was pushing them. Beneath the storm of thoughts and memories and images of her, there was the realization that he couldn't keep doing this. The logical part of him, the one that had developed for the sake of survival, told him that he needed to let go and recharge, refuel, and recover. Staying upright and alert wasn't helping his wounds. Staying online and tearing himself apart with memories and thoughts wasn't helping his processor. Seeing her everywhere he looked wasn't helping his spark.
He was losing the fight for survival.
The realization was cold and alien, and it struck him like a blow to the head. There was the core instinct, the oldest and most important, to fight, and it was screaming at him. Backlash blocked it out, like he had every thing else. His optics shifted away from Sundance to Ratchet when the older medic stepped back and nodded at her, "I've repaired what I can. The rest will take time to recover from."
"I can go?" Sundance's response was spoken slowly, like she was expecting him to ground her to the med bay.
"Yes, and please take the slagging dinobot so I'm not tripping over him every time I cross the room." Ratchet said, "I want you to come back for a check up, first thing in the morning, to make sure the welds on your energon lines and the replacements in your cheek gears are holding well."
Sundance nodded, dropping down from the berth to land lightly on her claws. Grimlock shifted and hauled himself up, still looking dazed, and lumbered after her. Sundance paused in the doorway and swung her head around, looking once at Flashback, who was back in recharge, then to Backlash. Seeing that he was watching her, Sundance softened her optics, and reached through the bond again. She tested the walls gently.
'Talk to me, Backlash,' She tried. Her whisper was muted, barely audible past the barrier.
There is nothing to talk about. Backlash held her gaze, silent. A soft vent left her. She said, 'You can't keep this inside of you forever, brother. It will tear you apart. Don't face this alone. Talk to us, let us in.'
Backlash narrowed his optics slightly. She stared back sadly for a moment longer before leaving, Grimlock right on her heels. Backlash turned his attention away, focusing on his mech creator when he came to his side. He felt his father's hand on his shoulder. "You need to recharge, Backlash."
"I'm fine," Backlash said tonelessly.
"You're far from fine." His father argued, "the repairs can't settle if you don't rest. You know this, son."
"I know."
His father studied him, "I won't lose you to injury or grief." Backlash tensed, but his father continued, "I'm going to put you into stasis, to give your frame and processor some time to rest. I'll bring you back online in a few hours to refuel and check your welds."
Backlash stared back. He felt the familiar brush of his father's spark, trying to reassure him. Slowly, Backlash laid back. His father's optics softened, "I can't promise you that the pain or the memory will go away, but you'll have the strength to face it." The hand on Backlash's shoulder moved up to the back of his helm, and before Backlash could fully process his words, he faded into darkness. For the first time since their return to base, he wasn't plagued by nightmares.
Backlash came online sometime later, and it was one of the slowest reboots he'd ever had to go through. His systems started slowly, one by one, leaving him feeling heavy and weak. He felt his creator's presence, and instinctively turned to him for support. A hand was resting on his arm, patient blue optics watching him.
Backlash blinked at him then started to sit up. His father helped him, bracing an arm across his back to keep him upright. Backlash focused his optics down on the berth, processor cycling lethargically as it struggled to catch up. He realized that the walls around his spark were down, but before he could raise them again his father wrapped himself around his spark, radiating strength and warmth and safety. Unused to the contact, Backlash tensed. Some of the agony and tension in his spark soothed.
Backlash didn't try to block him out. His optics lifted back up to his creator, "How long was I in stasis?"
"Longer than I thought you'd be," His father responded, a dry not taking over his voice, "I tried to wake you hours ago, but you were so deep in stasis your body wasn't reacting." His optic ridges lifted, "you needed the rest more than either of us thought you would. Ratchet was beginning to worry."
Backlash nodded, turning his head to take in their surroundings. The med bay was dark, and more berths were unoccupied than he remembered. Flashback was gone. So was wheeljack, and a few others that had been badly damaged in the initial siege of the base. Backlash narrowed his optics, glancing at his father when the older mech offered him some energon. "It must have been more than a day."
"Two." He answered, "I've never seen someone that was unable to come out of a medical stasis by a medic. How are you feeling?"
"Broken," Backlash said without thinking, a slight bitterness in his voice, "all systems are fine as far as I can tell, but slow and weak. Processor hurts. So does my spark."
"Thats what I expected." His father vented softly, "I'm afraid I can't repair the worst of your damage."
Backlash shuttered his optics, spark clenching when Lotus and Viral returned to his thoughts. He moved his arm to expose his side, staying still as his father looked at his repairs. A moment of quiet stretched out across the med bay, then he said, voice soft, "I can't stop thinking about her."
His father paused, and he felt the shock in his spark at the confession.
"She's always here, in my head. Flashback says that I shouldn't bury her or block her out. I can't even try."
"Your brother is right. She was very close to you when you were sparklings. To bury her would be like burying a piece of yourself." He prodded at a few welds, then moved to a different area on Backlash's side. "Is that how you made it before? By burying her?"
Backlash narrowed his optics, glaring at the energon cube, "Yes." His father's spark squeezed his, embracing him a little tighter.
"You're strong, Backlash."
Backlash tensed again. He hadn't been expecting that.
"And you've made yourself that strong. It always amazed me as much as it worried me, the way how you spent the rest of your sparkling years carving yourself into something that couldn't be hurt. But you sacrificed a part of yourself to get that way, and it changed you...I wish you could be happy again."
"I'll..." Backlash hesitated when the image of her shattered frame passed through his thoughts, the feeling of her hot energon running down his frame, the sight of it rolling down the canyon walls. Flooding the red earth. "I'll be alright." He finished quietly, "every thing will be alright." The words were meant to convince himself as much as his creator.
His father wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling Backlash against him. "You'll make it through this," He agreed.
When Hotshot came online, he felt a century older. Everything was heavy, and at first all he did was lay there and blink up at the white ceiling. His processor was muddled, and it took effort to make a complete thought. Everything was running slowly, so he waited.
While he waited, he thought about everything that had happened in the last few days. They had gone from living in peace to being kicked right out of their base then reclaiming it in one weekend. A numb sense of victory hung over him, but he couldn't bring himself to be excited or even happy about it. He was just relieved that it was over. It was finally over. Cyclonus and Shockwave had both been downed, the last mechs capable of leading the decepticon faction. They were gone. So was Scourge, and Megatron, and Galvatron. Starscream and his trine might have taken over, but they were offline as well thanks to Demona and her family.
Now he wondered what they would do with themselves. The war was over. There was no more need for the barracks or battle-hardened warriors. For ammunition and weapons. They had lived through a period of peace already on earth, but they'd always known that the decepticons would eventually come back. After the battle in the canyon, Hotshot wasn't sure if there was even any decepticons left.
The med bay was quiet. When Hotshot could move his head without getting dizzy, he looked around and saw that several mechs were passed out on different berths. Ratchet wasn't in sight, but there was some empty berths. When he was brought in, the med bay had been crowded. So many mechs and femmes were wounded that some had to be laid out on the floor. Seeing that there was no one on the ground any more, and that a few berths were unoccupied, Hotshot knew he'd been out for a while. A few days, at least.
He looked around the room then pushed himself up. His hand lifted to his side, finding a shallow hole where Shockwave had shoved his hand through him. Most of it had been repaired, along with his smashed chest plates. Hotshot leaned forward, turning so that his legs were hanging over the edge. He paused when he felt something tug on his side, and turned to see that he was attached to some sort of machine that was monitoring his spark. He grasped the tubing, debating on whether or not to pull it out.
He felt fine, now that his systems had time to recover from stasis. He was a little sore and numb in places, but he didn't think he needed to be on support any more. He tightened his fingers around it and carefully tested it to see how much strength it would take to disconnect.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
Hotshot froze, optics widening at the soft voice. He slowly looked over his shoulder, seeing a pair of bright red optics staring back. They were emotionless, narrowed slightly like the mech who owned them was tired. "What?" Hotshot asked, blinking at him.
"Ratchet said something about your spark chamber being damaged. Theres a chance that your spark could catch on the tears and wound itself. That machine is pumping a pulse into your chest to keep it pushed away from the edge. Its there for a reason. I wouldn't remove it."
Hotshot stared at him for a moment longer, trying to remember if he knew an autobot mech that had red optics. It took a minute for him to realize that this was Backlash. He grinned at the younger mech now, "It's good to see you up, mech."
"Its good to see you aware, as well." Backlash responded tonelessly, "you were a mess when they brought you in."
"Speak for yourself," Hotshot laughed quietly, "you looked worse than I did." He paused, "why aren't you hooked up to anything?"
"I'm mostly recovered," Backlash said, "other than my armor. Torn wiring and cables are easier to repair than a spark chamber."
Again, Hotshot blinked. "How long have we been in here?"
"A while." Backlash's optics shifted, going somewhere else. "Mom said that you carried me to safety."
"Uh, yeah." Hotshot stared at him.
"Thank you."
Hotshot nearly hit the floor. "You're welcome?"
Backlash glanced back at him again, "You sound surprised."
"I've never heard you thank an autobot before." Hotshot deadpanned. "I thought you...hated us or something."
"I don't like autobots, but I certainly don't hate them. I grew up thinking that your so-called code of honor was false, and that you never really protected your own."
Hotshot frowned, "Because of Sundance."
"...Yes."
Venting, Hotshot raised a hand to drag down his face plates, "I told you, none of us wanted it to happen."
"Thats not what I was getting at." The red optics narrowed slightly. "I was wrong."
Again, Hotshot stared at the mech. Backlash continued without pause, "I'm beginning to realize that I was wrong about a lot of things...the autobots being one of them."
"What makes you say that?"
"I've done nothing but put your faction down since I arrived on earth, and you still carried me off of the field and to Ratchet when I was on the verge of offlining. I'm not even one of you, and you risked your life to keep me online."
Hotshot smiled at him, "It was nothing, mech. I guess we're even, huh? I finally paid you back for saving me in the caverns."
"It was something," Backlash corrected quietly. There was a sad note to his voice, and it brought the memory of Viral's shattered frame to his processor. Hotshot swallowed thickly.
He started, "I really didn't think that I'd gotten to you in time at first...I wish I had gotten there sooner, Backlash. Maybe...maybe I could have done something to..." He vented softly, "I hate that you lost her."
Silence met him, and Hotshot was afraid that Backlash was going to ignore him now for bringing it up. He knew, just from seeing the way how the younger mech acted around the femme and from how Flashback talked about them that it was a touchy subject. He'd been full of questions since he'd first seen Backlash in the caverns, but he'd always been too afraid to ask the mech directly.
"She was an autobot." Backlash said, surprising him. "before she became Viral, she was autobot Lotus...her femme creator was a special ops agent, I can't really remember her designation. She used to tell me stories about all of the different autobot leaders and warriors, and she had me believing in your cause more than my family ever could."
Hotshot studied him. The mech was looking to the side again, optics narrowed and pained. "I don't think I stopped believing until I saw the way she changed...I think I stopped believing in every thing."
"She really was your best friend, wasn't she?"
Backlash met his gaze, his optics were full of emotion. "The only one I ever had."
"What was she like, before she turned into Viral?"
"She was curious. About every thing. And she used to drag me out on what she called 'adventures' across the moon. She would hide sometimes, and I would have to find her...but I hardly could. She usually ended up jumping out of the shadows right when I was ready to give up looking for her. She would laugh at every thing, and she was completely free. I used to think that nothing could stop her."
Hotshot grinned, "She sounds innocent, but I bet she got you in a lot of trouble."
Backlash grinned back. It was small and sad, but it completely shocked Hotshot. "Every minute of the day she was getting us into some sort of mess. She used to tell me, 'no fear, Backlash'. She never feared the dark like I did, she wasn't afraid of anything. I admired her for it, followed her. She made me want to be stronger, fearless like her. We spent those first few years happy and blissfully unaware of the dangers on the moon, laughing and causing as much trouble as we could."
"Burrowers."
A slight nod, "We were out one day. She was trying to talk me into going into the caverns to play, but I hated the dark. It was the one place I wouldn't follow her into, and for a good reason. She went in anyway, without a care. That was when I saw them for the fist time. There was three of them, and they rushed out of the caverns so fast I could hardly see them. They weren't big, but they were strong, and agile, and they were intent on offlining us. Lotus was screaming. It was the first time I'd ever seen her that afraid. She was running for me, yelling at me to go, but I knew there was no possibility of escaping them. We were sparklings, and we were alone, in the dark, my creators and siblings were half across the moon. They closed in on us, snagged Lotus in their claws, and tried to tear her apart right where they stood."
Hotshot stared, optics wide as he tried to believe what he was hearing. Backlash was talking to him, willingly telling him every thing, opening up in a way Hotshot had never seen or even heard of. He stayed silent, listening to every word the younger mech said. Backlash's optics were narrowed, distant, and turned away to gaze, unseeing, at the wall.
"I had never been so frightened in my life, I couldn't move. The others saw me and started at me to do the same. That was when her creator came, flying out of the shadows with her weapons drawn. The first burrower offlined at her hands. She lifted us in her arms and turned to the others but they were already rolling past her flanks. They appeared behind her before she could defend herself, and broke her knees in one strike. She fell hard, and they gutted her, but she still wouldn't let us go, and she offlined with her body wrapped around us. Lotus never stopped screaming, not until her mother's spark was snuffed out and the bond was torn. My family found us then, scaring the burrowers off, and they brought us back to the ship."
"She was never the same." Backlash's intakes slowed, like it pained him to speak, "she shut down, wouldn't move or speak or even refuel. I tried so hard to save her, even when everyone gave up. I would stay up with her for hours, watching in case she ever needed any thing. Time passed, and her optics lost their light. I tried to tell her not to be afraid, like she had said to me so many times. Every thing would be alright, if she simply stayed. My words never reached her, and one day I onlined to find her gone. I searched the entire ship, for hours, until I went outside and found a piece of her armor. Afraid that the burrowers had gotten her, I picked it up. I kept walking until I found another, then another, and more until the trail brought me to the same caverns her creator had offlined in. I was even more afraid of them now, and everything inside of me had been screaming to turn and run back home. But I couldn't bear the thought of leaving her, and I went inside. The trail continued, and I followed it into the darkness until I couldn't see any more."
Hotshot tensed. He knew where the story was going. It still shocked him when Backlash whispered, "She dropped down from the ceiling and slammed me down on my back. I shouted at her to stop, but she couldn't hear me, and she took my helm and drove my head into the floor, over and over again. The first impact was agonizing, but the more she did it the less it hurt. I couldn't really focus on her anymore, but I could see her optics. Wide and green, wild with hate. I fought her as much as I could, asking her why she was doing this. It hurt my spark more than anything, I couldn't understand-believe-that she was attacking me. Minutes passed and I grew weaker, I stopped fighting and suddenly everything was far away. She stopped when I stopped moving, and she left me there to offline in the darkness, alone and bleeding and unable to feel anything but the pain in my spark."
"Flashback found me first. He picked me up and carried me out of the caverns, yelling at me to hold on the entire run back to the ship. I fell into stasis, and woke up several weeks later. The first thing I remember noticing was the visor. Father said that sensory wiring had been damaged beyond repair in my processor, leaving my optics weak to light. Then it was the scars. Huge, ugly scars that shouldn't have been there. It took me years to accept what had happened, but that day was the first that I picked up a weapon, and it was the day she became Viral."
Hotshot vented quietly, processor sorting through every thing he'd just heard. "I...had no idea." He finally said, voice quiet. He raised his hands to drag down his face, "Pits, Backlash...I can't believe it. Your whole life has just been a nightmare, hasn't it?" Backlash's optics slid back towards him. Hotshot continued, "I mean, I've had friends argue with me, and I've even gotten in fights with them before, but...thats terrible."
"You and your comrades once asked me why we've been fighting since we were sparklings," Backlash said, voice back to being toneless, "and now you know."
That and more, Hotshot thought. He was still staring at the younger mech, optics round, "I'm sorry. For every thing. I mean, I know its probably not what you want to hear, but-Primus. Thats why you were so wary around her when she started to get better."
"Yes."
"But you...it looked like you were trusting her again."
"I was."
"How? After all of that, how could you still bring yourself to trust her?"
"She was my best friend, the only one I had as a sparkling in a cold, empty place. I couldn't let her go."
Hotshot studied him, then thought of something else. Cautiously, he asked, "Why are you telling me all of this?"
"Because everyone keeps telling me that I can't keep it inside, that it'll destroy me if I do."
"Then why me? Why not your brother or your sister or your creators? You're talking to me like," Hotshot stopped before he could finish, realizing what he was about to say.
"Like?" Backlash prompted.
"Like I'm your friend." Again, he was staring at the younger mech. "Are you-do you think-" Venting, he made himself slow down, "do you think of me as a friend?"
"Do you?"
Hotshot couldn't believe what he was hearing. He would've fallen off of the berth if he wasn't frozen in his shock. "Uh, yeah, actually." He finally said, voice quiet. "I mean, I've kinda thought you as one ever since you went out of your way to save me in the caverns. I just never thought that you'd see me as one. I guess we were both wrong?"
"I guess so."
Hotshot grinned.
Another one of those long in-betweens...there shouldn't be many more, I'm stalling because this is like the healing process for everyone right now...
Tell me what you think-much love to you all.
Sundance and her family, friends, and the story belongs to me. Transformers does not.
