Author's Note:
Haha, nothing's been truncated from this chapter, I'm going to let you use your imagination! ;)
"Haha! Tag! You're it!"
Nightstalker bolted down the halls of the Decepticon stronghold, but Megatron didn't move a ped. He merely watched her and arched a brow.
"What is 'it'?"
Nightstalker laughed, a little nervous on the inside. Sure they were familiar now, and because of that they were beginning to experiment more and more with their kinky positions, but she wanted to experiment out of the berth room. Only, she hoped she wasn't overstepping boundaries or she could be in some deep slag.
"'It'," she told him, "is you."
He smirked, crossing his arms. "What is this game you're playing?"
"Tag," she repeated. "I used to play it with Fli-Ni." She pouted her lip and leaned forward, cajoling, "Now, are you game? Or does Megatron think he can't tag me?"
Highly amused and intrigued, Megatron deeply arched a brow. "Is that a challenge?"
To make it as blatant as possible, Nightstalker turned and stuck her aft out. "You. Can't. Catch. Me." And she smacked her butt once before yipping and transforming in the hall, darting away in her jet form. Not even a second later she heard Megatron's engines blast in the halls and knew the warlord was giving chase.
Squealing, Nightstalker zipped through the halls, making passing Decepticons swear as they passed. When she banked at the last second down one hall, she thought for a second she had lost Megatron, but then, she whirled around the corner and found him barreling down the opposite side. She screeched and turned out, banking sharper and faster than the bigger 'Con. He missed her by an inch as she fled outside, turned her nose up, and shot up into the sky.
She swerved and dodged him as long as she could, but the more experienced warrior easily caught her. He transformed midair and slammed into her, catching her speedy alt form. Nightstalker, trapped by his arms, squealed and transformed, trying to get away as he landed them on the edge of the nearest building.
He bent over, pressing down on her and halting her thrashing. Nightstalker giggled breathlessly and then he rasped huskily in her audio, "Tag. You're it."
Before she could indulge in that suggestive voice, he dropped her off the edge of the building. Shrieking in girlish delight, Nightstalker transformed and caught herself before darting off after Megatron. The warlord evaded her easily for the first few kliks before Nightstalker realized she would never catch him like this. Banking around a different curve and weaving between the buildings of Kaon, Nightstalker squeezed into an old hiding spot she hadn't used since she played with Nightflier. When Megatron came down this alley, the sound waves would bounce off the walls and hit her. The second she heard the sound waves of his engine, she would throw herself out and, theoretically, land on him.
She hunkered down, crouched out of sight, and readied herself. It had to work. Nightflier had done it one too many times for it to be THAT special of a skill!
Then, she heard the telltale growl of Megatron's engine. Jumping out, for half a klik, her spark hit the back of her throat in the terrifying thrill of freefall, and then, she hit something—or SOMEONE—hard.
Nightstalker squealed in triumph, scrabbling at his wing to hold on. "Tag! You're it!"
Before she could get away, Megatron had transformed again, grabbed her leg, and landed on a catwalk over the road. He arched a brow at her upside down, giggling form. "I'm impressed, Nights. I did not think you could catch me! How did you do that?"
She threw him a wink. "My secret."
His lips slanted up roguishly. "Well, just for that," and he flipped her right side up so she landed on her peds, "I'll grace you with a head start."
The threatening waggle of his brows should have tipped her off. Instead, she just grinned and shouted, "I don't need it!" and took off.
She raced off. It took him a moment, but after the head start he pursued her doggedly, following her weaving between the buildings.
With alarm, Nightstalker realized he was catching up. Instead, she ducked inside a building she recognized, flew straight up to the ceiling and above the walkways to transform and squeeze into a small ventilation shaft that led to the roof. Wildly, she slipped inside it and crawled up. Megatron's arm reached inside, just barely missing her peds.
Nightstalker laughed at him, grinning down between her legs. "Missed me!" she hollered, voice echoing in the shaft before she hurried as fast as she could to the top. He was too big to fit inside, so his only hope was to—
Nightstalker shrieked and ducked when his servo reached down into the top of the shaft. How did he get up there so fast?
"Give up, Nightstalker," he teased her back. She heard the faint tremors of a laugh in his voice. "I've got you trapped."
Pursing her lips, Nightstalker didn't respond, optics narrowing at the opening above her. Then, frantically, she lunged up and out, scrambling to her peds to take off, but he grabbed her, pulling her back against his chest, one large arm pinning her to him without escape. Nightstalker squealed.
"Tag . . . You're it."
She shivered at his husky tone of voice, and then, his mouth began to kiss down the back of her neck, glossia playing around the sensitive edges of her wings. Play fun gone, Nightstalker arched, whimpering at the feel of heat she thought she would never get tired of.
"Uhhh . . . Right there . . . Please . . ."
He chuckled, a servo trailing up her side, and then, the scene changed. It wasn't that playful day they had played tag the first time. It didn't continue like it was supposed to, with dangerous, kinky sex outside on the roof where they had almost gotten caught. Instead, she felt him flip her around and slam her against a tree.
No . . . No, this isn't how it happened!
For a second, terror overtook her. She arched and screamed, knowing even before it happened what happened next. She felt him penetrate—felt her walls ripping again. Dark laughter squirmed across her audio receptors with tasting licks.
She screamed. She screamed and thrashed, but it was happening again. She couldn't stop it. Agony poured through her and fear consumed everything she knew.
Cliffjumper was screaming her name.
"Let me go!" She shrieked and thrashed against him, and when she lifted her hand, she felt him snap her wrists again. All feeling but pain stopped, and she couldn't move them, couldn't move herself. He was suffocating her.
The sawing in her pelvic region wouldn't stop. He bit her, smacked her, abusive and cruel, tearing her down to little pathetic bits.
Cliffjumper's terrified and tormented voice raked across her audios. "Nightstalker! Nights! Please!"
She curled, arched, jerked, felt herself raped from the inside out, beaten and bloodied. She drowned in the darkness as Megatron pinned her there. She couldn't escape him.
"Nightstalker! Please! Wake up! Wake up, please, I'm begging you!"
She felt one of her arms snap, but this time, because she was shocked and confused at the new words Cliffjumper said, she didn't feel the pain.
What? What is he . . .
And then, she understood.
I'm dreaming!
Megatron roared, striking fear in her spark, and she screamed when his hand yanked off her spark chamber doors, going for that sacred area she didn't want anyone to touch but Cliffjumper. He was trying to smother her, trying to force her to stay in the dream. It was terrifying the power he held over her—he was everywhere, kept his claws deep in the depths of her soul.
It was like she couldn't see anything but those soulless red optics. She couldn't even think without him interrupting her. In her thoughts. In her dreams. He'd taken over her.
"Nightstalker! Wake up! Wake up, slag it! Please! Wake up! Nights!"
She screamed, a splintering sound that poured from the depths of her spark when he began to grope her chassis, trying to take her spark. Nightstalker thrashed against him, shrieking and struggling.
Not her spark . . . Not her spark . . . She wouldn't let him have her spark—!
Nightstalker shrieked, fighting her assailant that had his servos clamped firmly around her wrists. She kicked and screamed and bit, thrashing against him, fighting tooth and nail against the damage that had been done to her.
He shook her. "Nights! Nights, stop it! Stop it! Nights, it's me! Cliffjumper! It's me!"
A garbled sob hit the roof of her mouth. He pinned her hands together with one hand as she slumped without energy, turning her face away with tears that seized through her chassis. He collected her broken and limp form to his chassis, strong arms holding her close though she quaked and jerked violently in his arms.
"Shh, shh, Nights, it's me. Cliffjumper. Shh, I'm here, I won't let him hurt you again, I promise . . . Shh . . . You're all right, we're safe . . ."
She shook her head, choking around her crying. She wildly thrashed her head. No. No, she wasn't. She wouldn't ever be safe. He was always there. In her mind. Ready to rape her again the second she closed her optics for recharge. He lurked. He skulked. He perverted. He gored her spark and mind with his poison. Pain. Fear.
She couldn't ever escape him.
She couldn't ever heal.
She couldn't ever forget.
Cliffjumper's whimsical nothings whispered in her ears meant nothing, but provided a desperate mercy from the words that lacerated. The sound of his deep voice comforted. The soothing sound chased away the claws that cleaved through her soul. His arms tightened; her pillars of strength and an enclave of protection. They warded off the perversion in her mind, gracing her and saving her from the spike that mutilated and the fear that consumed.
He patiently shushed her, a hand kneading that sensitive spot between her wings to loosen the circuits taunt with stress. Gentle kisses like misting raindrops feathered over her face, taking away her shuddering tears and soothing her trembling lips. A shiver convulsed her frame, and his hands chafed her arms, warming her, consoling her.
"Shh . . . Easy, Nights. I'm right here. I won't let him hurt you. I won't let him touch you. Shh, you're safe." He kissed her temple again, stroking her cheek gently. His thumb wiped her tears away, murmuring, "Easy does it, Nights . . ." He shushed her again, and Nightstalker shook her head, only able to think one thing. And that one thing was what she blurted out.
"I love you!"
Cliffjumper blinked, taken off guard by the abruptness of her statement. "Nights?"
"I love you!" she gasped again. She collapsed into his chassis, pressing her forehead to him and wings sagging low as she gave away the secret she had held for the past several days. Hot tears dribbled down her cheeks. "I love you, I love you, I—I love you . . ."
With a soft groan, she felt him lift her and then cherishing lips pressed to hers. The heat of his passions crippled her will, and she melted into him, desperately searching for an answer she was afraid to receive. He broke apart from her, and the first thing he rasped back was,
"I love you too. Oh Nights, I—I love you so much—" and he interrupted his confession with several more incessant kisses. He smiled, throat jumping as he whispered, "Gosh, Nights, I've wanted to tell you for so long, I just—I didn't know if you were ready to hear it."
"It's all I want to hear," she whispered back. His arms constricted to nearly crushing as he rocked her, laughing softly in amazement.
His lips brushed an audio receptor. "Want to know when I fell in love with you?" he husked. When he received a little nod, he murmured, "I knew it when you disappeared back to the Decepticons. I just . . . I couldn't get you off my mind. I was so worried I couldn't think of anything else. That was when . . . I realized I didn't want to keep living this life without you."
Thick tears clogged up her vocalizer. She pressed a crushing kiss to his lips, heat sizzling through every circuit of her body when his servos grabbed her, holding her body to his. "Sorry it's not that romantic for me," she gasped. "But I only figured it out the other night when you told me you'd protect me from anything." She kissed him hard again, tasting him, almost violent in her kisses as rabid passion tore through her.
Cliffjumper parted for a second with a laugh, chiding, "We've certainly come a long way from the torture chambers."
Their mouths seized each other again, and Nightstalker felt his glossia slide in, tasting, exploring. She groaned, panting sharply as he trailed hot kisses down her neck.
"Cliff—Cliff, please—" and her spark chamber doors sprang open immediately, humming and crackling with raw need. "Take me again . . . Please!"
He shifted, turning her over on her back with a grin playing at the edges of his mouth. He kissed her and husked in her audios,
"My pleasure."
Nightflier hurried back to where he and Smokescreen were holed up with Optimus, and he landed outside where they were underground. He was just about to start stomping on the ground in the effort to see if Smokescreen would hear and come get him with the Phase Shifter when said bot's head poked up between his peds.
Nightflier yelped in shock, stumbling back and Smokescreen yelped too, ducking back underground. Then, a second later, Smokescreen phased through the ground and blinked at him. Nightflier blinked back.
"You scared me."
"You scared me."
Their voices overlapped. Smokescreen reached down, and he helped Nightflier back to his peds.
"Where were you?"
"Where are you going?"
When they both spoke at the same time again, they both laughed sheepishly and grinned.
"We've really gotta stop—"
"We need to stop—"
They spoke at the same time again. Finally, they held up their servos.
"You first."
"You first."
For some reason, it struck Nightflier as funny. He began to laugh, and because his laughter was infectious, Smokescreen began to laugh too until they were both doubled up with tears streaming down their faces.
Finally, Smokescreen was the first to get back under control. "Seriously," he told Nightflier, "you've gotta stop talking at the same time I do."
Flicking tears away, Nightflier shook his head. "Sorry. Primus, I don't even know why that was so funny."
Smokescreen smiled grimly. "Well, I think almost any little thing is going to be funny at this point."
Nightflier's amusement died at that moment. He cleared his vocalizer. "So, uh . . . Where were you going?"
"Uh . . . The Decepticon citadel?"
His optics popped. "What for?"
"Optimus woke up," Smokescreen said. He jerked his thumb behind him as if to point to him. "He wanted me to get the Forge of Solus Prime."
Nightflier blinked. "What's that?"
"A hammer. Made by Solus, one of the Thirteen Primes." Smokescreen shifted, eager to get moving. "He can fix himself with it. Did you find Ratchet? What happened to you?"
"No I didn't," Nightflier filled him in quickly. "Got waylaid and found Arcee and Jack. They're good, and they're trying to help find Ratchet. Here," and he waved Smokescreen off, "let me get the Forge."
"No, I've got it," Smokescreen said quickly.
Nightflier shook his head. "My function is espionage," Nightflier reminded him.
"The Forge is bigger than you." Nightflier stopped, blinking up at the mech with him. Smokescreen shrugged. "I don't know if you could drag it that far."
"Probably not," Nightflier admitted. "Take me back down to Optimus? I want to give him the good news."
Smokescreen nodded and took him down. Nightflier watched Smokescreen run through the wall, and he worried. Getting past Soundwave was no easy feat.
So he waited. He sat next to the peds of the Prime cross-legged, bouncing his legs in worried boredom. Maybe he should have just done another flight route for Ratchet. But he wouldn't have had the energon to get back. He was going to have to go on another raid in the Decepticon energon stores. He'd burned through it all flying and then lost even more fighting Starscream. Optimus was still leaking. He probably needed another dose to get him to hold on anyways.
He listened to the strained, labored vents of the Prime. He looked him up and down again. That kind of damage . . . He looked down in his lap, letting his helm hang. At this rate, he was going to die. He hoped that Forge thing Smokescreen was bringing was going to work. Either that, or they needed Ratchet, and they needed him now.
His mind returned to one thing. Nightstalker. She was alive. Excitement and relief and love poured through him. She was alive! She was out there somewhere, and Cliffjumper was protecting her. He wanted to see her—he wanted to see her so badly! To know she was out there was frustrating, and he futilely reached out to her with his spark, determined to find her somewhere. All that he got in return was a vast nothingness, numb, and empty from a long dead connection.
Suddenly sensing optics on him, Nightflier lifted his head. Optimus's head had lolled his way, and blue optics flickered at him. Nightflier turned respectfully to him, getting on one knee and bowing slightly to him.
"Prime."
There was no response, but he heard faint words catching on his lips. Nightflier jumped in helpfully at the slight cinch in the Prime's brow. "Nightflier of Kaon, sixth addition of the Protectobots, warrior class, function: espionage, reporting from Kalis, Cybertron, sir," he designated himself to the Prime. He swallowed. "I'm Nightstalker's brother."
He heard his intakes hitch when he took the news. Nightflier nodded to him. "I . . . want to thank you for trying to save me back on Kaon."
The Prime's cycles shuddered. His lips shook. "I . . . did not . . ."
Hearing his struggling, Nightflier nodded again, letting him know he understood. "It was the thought that counted," he said quietly, kneeling at his side. "I'm . . . humbled that you were willing to save someone as insignificant as myself."
The Prime's optics flickered. His chest heaved as he forced the words out. "No life . . . is insignificant . . . I . . . did not realize it then. Not until . . . after I saw there was nothing . . . left of you . . ."
Nightflier shook his head, dipping his helm. "I was just a street kid. There wasn't much worth saving. Not compared to you. You were Prime."
Optimus's slow and strained words faltered past trembling lips. "And a Prime . . . must realize . . . he protects ALL of Primus's creations . . ." Nightflier lifted his head, meeting Optimus's flickering gaze. He felt a shiver go down his back and all the way through the tip of his wings. "No one is without a second chance . . . No one is insignificant . . . the innocent . . . ALL life . . . is worth saving . . ."
Nightflier swallowed, dropping his optics, unable to look into those unfathomable pools of crystal that contained so much wisdom. He nodded, rasping, "Yes sir. I understand," though Optimus hadn't meant to reprimand him. Catching the Prime's optics drifting to his crippled wing and the brace that let it function, he shifted and tucked his wing out of sight. "An old wound," he told him quietly. "It doesn't need to concern you."
He probably sounded a bit cruel. But he didn't mean it cruelly. He just didn't want the Prime lying his being crippled on his spark as well. He didn't need to. It was a wound of past long taken care of by First Aid, and his wing worked perfectly fine now with his brace.
Nightflier looked up quickly, noting Optimus's drooping eyelids. "Prime," he said, and his optics fluttered open. "I saw Jack and Arcee," he told him. Something about just mentioning them made the Prime's face soften; made his optics warm; gave him some sort of peace. "They're fine," he said. He smiled. "They're just fine. They're helping me look for Ratchet."
His labored breaths hurt just to hear them. "And . . . the others?"
He shook his head. "I don't know. I haven't found them yet." When Optimus's optics sank shut again, Nightflier's spark started. "But I will!" he burst, worried sick for the waning Prime. Optimus didn't open his optics again, and Nightflier pressed, "I'll find them, I swear. They'll be just fine, we're all gonna make it out of this safely, I promise. I'll do I can for you, sir, I promise."
He didn't respond. All Nightflier received for his desperate promise was the gritty sound of his clogged venting. Shaking, Nightflier bent over the Prime's ped.
I know I've never been too religious or whatever you call it, Primus, but . . . Don't forsake us. Please. We need him. We . . . He's our Prime. Without him . . . Please. Don't forsake us. Don't forsake him. We need him, please . . . Save him.
Nightstalker was tired of walking.
She stomped along, itching to get moving. Itching to fly. After so many days and so many weeks without having flown, the uncontrollable urge nearly blindsided her and tipped her processor. Her servos clenched. Her wings perked.
Cliffjumper's hand reached over, covering hers. Warm. Strong. "Easy, Nights."
"Easy?" she snapped. She wrenched her hand away, sparks dancing in her orange optics. "You take it easy! I haven't flown in weeks and weeks and I just want to stretch my wings for a second and you won't let me!"
He stopped with her, the foliage of the trees above covering the moonlight and plunging them into deep darkness as they finally crossed the Tennessee to Missouri border. "Nights, I—"
"I just want to fly for a second, just once around the border!" She jabbed her finger into his chassis, making him take a step backwards. "And YOU can't make the excuse that I'm not cleared to fly because I've been cleared all day and my motor lines feel fine so you can stuff it!"
Instead of intimidating him, her anger just made a smile play at the edges of his mouth that he tried to vainly fight back. "You're hanging out too much with Miko if you're saying to stuff—"
"And I can fraggin well fly!" Nightstalker snapped for good measure, taking another step forward and hitting his chest. "It's nighttime, and no one's gonna see me, so you can shut it about the Decepticons finding me!"
He just grinned and shook his head, and his servo took her hand. "C'mon," he said, tugging her to the side and sitting down. "Let's watch the rest of Dreadwing's video."
"I don't want to watch it!" Nightstalker snapped, locking her knees and refusing to sit. She was so boiling mad right now she was sure her metal was shining!
"You don't want to have the rest of the story?"
"I know what the rest of it is!" she snapped. "Clearly he disowned us because of me and he moved on to better things! I don't need to hear it! He can keep his fragging secrets!"
Cliffjumper locked his hold on her hand tighter when she tugged and jerked to get away. He arched a brow. "Now c'mon, Nights. You won't give the mech a chance? At least hear him out."
"Well he's dead," Nightstalker snarled, "so I don't see the point since it's not going to change anything! Let go!" She hit his wrist, trying to pry his fingers off of her. "Let go!"
Instead, he just yanked her down. Nightstalker squeaked and sprawled mortifyingly into his lap as he said conversationally, "Let's just calm down. Watching his video will for sure get your mind off flying for a bit."
"Let go!" she shouted. She twisted and turned and tried to get away, but he stubbornly kept his hold on her. "Let me go, you fragging—I hate you!"
His arms locked around her, and he chuckled in her audio receptor. "I'm pretty sure it was just yesterday we finally proclaimed our love for each other."
"Shut up." She squirmed. "Let go."
He nuzzled her audio. "You sure are moody today."
"And for good fragging reason!" she snapped, struggling against his affectionate hold. "Let me fragging go already! I'm flying!"
Cliffjumper's hold tightened to almost crushingly painful. "Easy, Nights," he husked quietly in her ear. "It's just a bad day."
"You're telling me?" she all but screeched in his ear. She had to physically restrain herself from hitting him. "You're the one making it worse! I'm tired, I'm worried, I just want to fragging fly, and I'm scared, and you're just making everything worse!"
"I know," he murmured quietly. He didn't relinquish his hold on her, but a servo reached up to knead between her wings soothingly. "I'm sorry."
"No you're not."
"Yes," he said with a light chuckle, "I am." His humor faded. He bunched her up tighter, nuzzling the top of her helm. "I'm just worried. We've done good to avoid Decepticon optics for so long, and I don't want to jeopardize that. Not to mention that we're both running low on fuel again, and we can't have you burning through it. All right?"
She hit his chest weakly. "I want to fly."
"I know."
She hit him again. Tears pricked her optics. "I want Ratchet."
Cliffjumper closed his optics, chest paining. "I know."
"I want Bumblebee."
"I know . . ."
Her wings perked in irritation. "Say something else, slaggit."
"Okay."
She grumbled, but it was to fight off an unwilling laugh. Nightstalker sat up to look at him, and that mischievous little twinkle refused to leave his optics. She huffed and extended her arm. "Fine. Let's finish watching the fragging video." As he hooked their wrists together for mutual connection, she flopped back down, hugging him. "I don't know how much more of this crap I can stomach . . ."
The first thing the video greeted her with was Dreadwing's angry stare. His last words "I saw you," weren't the last of the cutting words for her. Immediately he kept on with, "Some wretch from a different father, and I knew you were not mine." Dreadwing's servos clenched, and he stood in his agitation. "You ruined everything! Ampere had forsaken me and turned her back on me, took another mech instead. She cut my spark open with that betrayal. And I hated you for it—" He shook his head. "You, it was always you I hated. I was angry at Ampere, but nothing could compare to the hate I infested in you."
Nightstalker sat quietly, taking the brunt of his hate for what it was. Wasn't that common? That people hated her? But Cliffjumper's arms tightened on her, and he muttered, "You were innocent. You didn't do anything. It was Ampere and Starscream he should be blaming. And himself."
"So I left," Dreadwing continued almost without pause, servos shaking. "I left, and I vowed to never come back. If she denied my existence, then I denied hers. My pride came back with a vengeance, and I would not offer myself back to the femme who disowned and committed adultery against me." He shook his head again, pressing the heel of his hand to his helm. "I lived in anger and despair for what I had lost."
There was a pause as Dreadwing's wings finally loosened from their tense position, and then, he finally said quietly, "But my love for Nightflier never ceased. I knew he was alive, and I knew he was well, and I took that to spark. Our bond was fragile and weak, because the mother's disconnection from me hurt his ability to commune with me, but I was comforted in always knowing he was there."
He shifted. His brow darkened. "It . . . I am not sure what happened. One day, on my military leave, I chose to come back. I wanted to see my son, and Ampere would not stop me. But when I made it to the apartment, no one was there. I asked the owner where they had gone. He said he did not know. They were behind on payments, and he wouldn't allow them back.
"They were out on the streets somewhere. I was convinced of it." Dreadwing took a ragged breath, rasping, "I should have known she was still faithful to me then. If she truly had forsaken me, she would have begun selling her body again to provide for her children. But she didn't . . ." His vents tightened again. He shook his head. "I panicked. I began looking for her, and Skyquake helped me, but we couldn't find her anywhere. Not Nightflier either." There was a palpable pause. "Not even you."
Nightstalker let her wings droop when Cliffjumper began to knead that special spot between her wings. "We were ordered to come back to the front before we found anyone," he finally murmured. "I tried to comfort myself with the idea that you were all still in Kaon somewhere, and I tried to trust Ampere to take care of my child." He sank back down on the berth heavily. He started to say something and stopped. His optics flicked up to the screen. "You said Ampere died of sickness . . . If that was true, then . . . I have to assume that she died somewhere around this time."
His voice cracked. He cleared his vocalizer and whispered, "But my fear didn't end there. It wasn't much longer before Megatron ordered the attack on Kaon . . . with the order to kill any femmes and sparklings."
A harsh breath seized. "I was terrified. He wanted me to lead the assault, and I could not say no. So I led it, but very quickly I abandoned my post. I searched the streets, the buildings, everywhere, calling for my son—" His voice cracked again. He trembled, dropping his helm. "I couldn't feel Ampere in my spark with a broken bond. But I called for her too. I tried to communicate with Nightflier through my spark, but he was panicked, terrified, and in pain. He didn't know where he was. And then—then he—" His claws tightened on his helm.
"I felt his spark go out."
Nightstalker shivered, knowing the feeling all too well. Cliffjumper soothed her softly, stroking her wings and kissing her helm. After a moment, Dreadwing rasped, "The force of that brought me to my knees. I almost gave in right there, but . . . I held on for Ampere. I tricked myself with the false hope that maybe—just maybe she was still alive somewhere . . ."
He shook his head. "I was wrong," he said haggardly. "I never saw her again. I never even found Nightflier's body. When I came back to the Decepticons after fruitless search for my family . . . Megatron asked for me. I had to go to him. He demanded to know why I had abandoned my post. He knew. Even before I confessed, he somehow knew. Most likely Soundwave . . ." Dreadwing shook his head, swallowing tightly. "I confessed I had a spark mate and son. But he didn't need to worry about that anymore. They were dead, and . . . nothing would impede my loyalty to him."
Nightstalker swallowed at the empty defeat in his voice. Finally, he said quietly, "When Skyquake died, the only thing kept me going was hate and revenge. I should have let myself die when he did, spark break tearing me apart, but I was too stubborn and prideful. And then, when I saw you . . . I thought I saw Ampere. For one moment, I thought I was looking at her, and then, as you're helm registered, and the differences . . . I knew it was you." He took a tight vent. "And I hated you all the more because you had survived the slaughter in Kaon and the ones I loved had died."
There was a lagging pause as Dreadwing controlled the emotions running rampant through his chassis. Finally, he murmured, "I'm going to give the Autobots the Forge of Solus Prime. The disgrace of what Starscream has done . . . what Megatron has lied to me about . . . is too much. I will kill Starscream or I will die trying." His optics flicked up. "So whichever of us you see next, know the other is dead."
Nightstalker felt her wings deflate and droop. Starscream had led the assault on the Autobot base. Dreadwing was long gone to this world.
"I am sorry," he finally said quietly. "Sorry I could not forgive you for a crime that is not your own . . . I am sorry for what I have done . . . For my accursed pride . . ." His servo clenched. "I am sorry I ruined this family."
Nightstalker watched as he stood, wings drooped low as the video abruptly ended. There was a beat of silence, and Nightstalker soundlessly disconnected from Cliffjumper. He vented quietly and put a kiss on her helm.
"Are you all right?"
She shrugged, curled up into his neck. "As well as can be. At least I know what happened."
They sat in quiet silence for a minute. Nightstalker tried to ignore all the gritty details of her broken family's past, but she couldn't get them out of her mind. As much as she didn't want to think about it, didn't want to dwell on it, it was taxing her processor and consuming her thoughts.
Finally, she sat up with a slight huff and a knowing smile. Cliffjumper arched a brow.
"I know that look."
"You sure do," she said, and she leaned forward, kissing him deeply. She let her claws feather over his strong arms, dipping in between his armor.
He broke the kiss and gave her a look. "You want to do this NOW of all times?" he asked, stunned that she could move from a tragic ending to horny in the space of several minutes.
"I don't want to think about it," she said truthfully. Instead, she let her palms drag flat against his chassis until she cupped his heating cod. Leaning in to his audio receptor, she husked, "Now . . . You know what I want, Cliff. Please . . . I want you to fill me up . . ."
He chuckled, and his hands drew lines of fire down to her aft plating before flicking it off. He turned her on her back, fingers already gripping between her aft cheeks. "You know," he rumbled back while kissing down her neck. She arched. He smirked. "I'm very sure that all this interfacing is burning through our reserves too."
Nightstalker laughed thickly as he said that and proceeded to ravish her despite the knowledge. His mouth seized her, tasting and devouring, hands exploring and teasing. Nightstalker reached up and grabbed the horns on his head, and he stiffened, gritting a gasp.
She pulled his helm close, looking into his optics. "I'm riding you tonight, cowboy," she husked.
Cliffjumper chuckled and moved in for the killing kiss. "Well, as long as you keep your hands right there—"
And then, he paused. The whine of engines filled the air. Drawing closer—
"Someone's here!" Cliffjumper hissed. He had her on her peds in a second, slapping her aft plate back into her hand as he shoved her into the shadows. Nightstalker felt her throat bob in fear as she shrank as small as she could, putting her aft plate back on. Cliffjumper drew his ion cannons as they crouched beneath the leafy treetops that prevented the ship from landing.
After a minute with the great space shuttle hovering above them, Nightstalker finally called to Cliffjumper, "I've got to go up and see who it is!"
His hand clamped down on her arm. "No! It could be Decepticons!"
She frowned. "If it were, wouldn't they have blasted us already?" When Cliffjumper pressed his lips mulishly, she felt prompted to add, "Look, they can't land because of the trees! If it's danger, I'll be right back, okay?"
He gritted his jaw, but nodded. "Be careful."
Nightstalker nodded. Transforming, she took to the air and flipped around to the front windshield of the ship. The pilot was large—vaguely the same build as Optimus, but those optics were different, as was the set of his face plates. But, she saw someone inside that made her transform and land on the front of the ship.
"Arcee!" she cried. She could barely hear herself above the sound of the ship's great engines, and she waved in excitement, grinning widely. What reinforcements! "Arcee! Jack!"
She watched as the mech exchanged a few words with Arcee, and then Arcee pointed down. Nightstalker nodded, and she transformed, flying below the ship and fighting the winds. The hatch opened, and it revealed Arcee hanging on and squinting. Nightstalker landed next to her.
"We can't land here!" Arcee shouted above the roar of the engines. She pointed. "We're going to head about 5 miles out that way! There's a big enough clearing for us to land! Meet us there!"
Nightstalker nodded, yelling back, "Got it!"
Transforming, she flew back down to Cliffjumper as the great ship soared off in the distance. She grinned and squealed, throwing her arms around him.
"Cliff! It's Arcee and Jack! The gang's getting back together!"
