Wheeljack woke up with a start, his optics opening and widening.
He quickly stepped off of his platform and walked a few paces into his apartment, placing a servo on a wall and looking down as he tried to recompose himself, then he looked over at the window as he intook air and let it go.
A scorched blue helmet was illuminated by the early morning sunlight, the visor seeming to blankly stare at him.
It had been one year since Jenna Darby died.
Wheeljack frowned at the helmet, then he turned and walked over to his desk, pulling the chair back and sitting down.
One year, and he still had nightmares about it—the MECH interrogation, Darkmount, and the day at the Well had all come back to haunt him in his stasis.
He usually remembered the nightmares, but not this time. He just knew that, whatever it was, it was about her.
It was always about her.
Sometimes, there were others—folks he had lost, folks he hadn't lost yet—but she was always there. The last casualty of the last great battle for Cybertron.
His partner.
Wheeljack sighed, shaking his helm, then he looked at something on the desk: a camera. He gazed at it for a long moment, then he picked it up and turned it on, facing it towards himself.
Time to try again.
Jenna dying, it had changed something in Wheeljack.
At first, he was in denial—that girl would come back soon, she always came back and she was always stronger but the same. He just had to wait and be patient, and she would suddenly pop up. She would give one of those nervous grins, call him 'Jackie, and ask for forgiveness that she wouldn't have known she already had. He'd shout at her for a while, act like he wasn't happy to see her, then he would crack. Hello, water-works—and she'd panic, because she had never actually seen him cry.
That denial, that hope, quickly became anger as he gazed into the Well. He turned and stormed away to distract himself with fixing Ultra Magnus's ship, and he felt his anger grow and grow.
How dare she keep this a secret from him?
How dare she lie to him?
How dare she get his hopes up?
How dare she leave him?
How dare she die?
The anger remained, but it faded as Wheeljack returned to the Well that afternoon.
He watched sparks raising into the sky, saw them going into sites he knew once housed and might've still housed protoforms, and—even though he wasn't a 'bot of faith—he prayed.
Please, send her back to me, he had pleaded, hoping that Primus would hear him. It's only been a few hours, and I'm already lost without her. Please, give her back... I need my partner.
The Well did not give up Jenna Darby's spark, so Wheeljack went to Knockout and Ratchet about a way to possibly call her spark from the Well and into a protoform even though he knew there wasn't such a method... They said that they were sorry for his loss.
That day ended with Wheeljack feeling... empty.
An irreplaceable part of him had suddenly been taken away, and the ghost-pain was there.
He found himself looking for her, sometimes—he expected her minuscule weight on his rotator-cup that now seemed so heavy and noticeable now that it was gone, the soft flapping of wings during battle that had given way to deafening silence, a chirp of laughter whenever someone made a joke that seemed so necessary.
He wanted to wake up to see her flitting around the room, shouting about how they were late for a meeting with Optimus or a brawl between the Wreckers and ex-'Cons... but he knew she wouldn't be there.
Wheeljack found himself always getting drunk off of high-grade, and he began distancing himself from others as time went on. He started fights, and they would forgive him, and he would feel bad and angry and then drink to try and numb it all only to start a fight and begin the cycle all over again. He wanted to stop, but they kept telling him to move on and he hated it.
His partner was dead, she died so that everyone else could get their friends back—the dead were assured to rise from the Well to rejoin the living in new forms, in time.
So... why couldn't Wheeljack get his partner back?
Was Megatron right, all that time ago? Did Primus discriminate against techno-organics because they were part-human?
When Jenna took those sparks to the Well, was she accepted or expelled as soon as her job was done?
Did Primus force her to die, only to abandon her?
Was she floating through space? Was she trapped with Unicron?
Would Wheeljack never get to see her again, even in the next life?
Was she just... gone?
Those thoughts, that lack of closure... They were all driving him crazy.
And the more that those maddening thoughts swirled in his processor, the more Wheeljack realized he'd only have ever really lost it if he decided he was perfectly alright with doing something like this to someone else.
Thus, the camera.
"Hey, Bulk... If you're watchin' this message, things are either about to get really awkward or... I'm dead," Wheeljack began, giving a small smirk. "Yeah. I suppose that it had to happen eventually, didn't it? So... No, that's not it." He paused and deleted the footage, then he tried again. "Hey, Bulk. The kid once told me that death can sometimes be easier to deal with if the dead guy leaves a message of some kind. Didn't work back when she died, but I decided to- No, that's not it." He deleted the footage and sighed, closing his optics. "Frag it all."
...
"See you on the other side, Wheel-jackass."
...
Wheeljack looked up, frowning.
"... Hey, guys," he spoke quietly. "It's Wheeljack, and..." He gave a small shrug. "I lost a lot of good friends, during the war. The Wreckers were everything to me, and... as much as they might've needed me, I needed them more. I know that they're not all gone, but a lot of them are—and I blame myself." He went silent for a moment. "I thought-...
I thought I could rebuild the Wreckers. I thought that Bulk and I could pull it off together, with some friends of ours from Team Prime. Ultra Magnus lightened-up and Elita-1 came back, and Smokescreen wanted in on the action—so, there's that. We even got two Predabots on the team, and a fiery little human. They're all still around, they're all still kicking...
But it all came at a cost, in the end—the planet, the war, the second chance. We lost one." He closed his optics. "She was a techno-organic, and she was only eighteen years-old. Her name was Jenna Darby, and she was my partner. One stellar-cycle ago, she died bringin' life back to this hunk of metal we're sittin' on... I couldn't save her."
...
"Bye, 'Jackie."
...
Wheeljack took a deep intake of air, then he let it go.
"She was stubborn, that girl. She probably wouldn't have let me save her even if I could have." He opened his optics and looked down, frowning. "When she got somethin' into her head, she pretty much never changed her mind from it. That's just how she was, right from the day we met. She always-...
She thought the best of me, always. She trusted me, always. She believed in me, always. And she shouldn't have... but I still miss it. I miss her." He looked up. "I miss seein' that girl on the battlefield with me. I miss carryin' her around, I miss her jokes, I miss her weird references that I barely understood, I miss her smile, I miss her laugh—I miss her voice in general. If you were one of those rare folks who ever heard her sing, you'd know there was nothin' like it in the universe...
She was amazing. There will never be another like Jenna Darby." Wheeljack sighed quietly. "But the way things are looking, she's not coming back like others have since the Allspark's return. I don't know why, but she's just-..." Another intake and release of air. "She's just not-..." Intake. Release. "Jenna Darby... is not... coming back."
His fist slammed down on his desk, and he closed his optics.
After a few moments, Wheeljack opened his optics and looked at the camera again, shrugging. "Whatcha gonna do, huh?" His expression softened. "Now, look... We all know the Well rules, right?" He snorted. "Miko's probably real confused right now, so... I'll just explain, save you all some time. I'm dead, so it's the least I can do." He sat up straight. "Jenna'd be calling me 'the exposition fairy' or some scrap right now, but I honestly couldn't care less. So... works like this.
You die old as a result of natural causes, you reincarnate and start over from scratch—no memories, just some residual personality quirks to make 'bots scratch their heads and wonder. You die young, you can choose to reborn into a new body so that you can pick up where you left off or you can get reincarnated early and skip out on all those student loans. Nice, right?
Well... there's also option three." Wheeljack leaned back in his seat. "You just... stay in the Well. You don't pop into a new body, you don't resume or start over. You just... stop." He shook his helm. "And can you blame anyone who'd do that? They're probably tired, and coming back would mean facing so much after they already went through the Pit in the war...
Why keep going when you could just rest forever? Doesn't make much sense, to me." Wheeljack looked up at the camera, sighing softly. "I used to wonder when I was younger if I was a brand new spark or some old moron who decided to give this life thing another go, but... I guess that's just one of life's greatest mysteries, huh?
Kid would've laughed at that. It's a reference." Wheeljack sat up straight. "Alright, alright. Enough beatin' around the bush. I've wasted enough time already. Can't shut up even when I'm dead, huh? Better be rollin' your optics—Prime, Ultra Magnus, Sunshine." The white Wrecker winked, then he chuckled. "Okay, okay...
Hm." His expression softened, then he sighed and raised a servo to the top of his helm. "Pit, I'm tired. Been drinkin' too much and sleepin' too little, but that should come as no surprise..." He opened his optics and looked at the camera, then he lowered his servo and took a deep 'breath'. "What I mean to say is, however it is I went out..." His optics narrowed. "I didn't plan it.
I wouldn't do that to you. You're my family, and I wouldn't do that to you. I wouldn't do what she did, not after all of this. Not after what she-... But I don't want you to be hurtin' like I've been hurtin' since I lost my partner." He gave a weak grin. "That's why I'm makin' this stupid message for you morons, alright? Call it me goin' soft or whatever, but...
I'm tryin' to do what she couldn't and give the people I love a bit of closure, in case something ever happens to me. You don't need to mourn me, okay? However it happened, it's okay. I'm okay..." His face fell. "But still, I'm sorry—especially 'cause... unless you losers are already back in some serious scrap and I need to come in and save your afts, I don't plan on coming ba-"
"Hey, 'Jackie!" Bulkhead suddenly opened the door and peeked into the room, smiling. "Ultra Magnus wants us to go and take care of some rogue 'Cons over in Kaon. You in?"
Wheeljack blinked and looked back, then gave a small smirk.
"Yeah. I'll be right out," he said, and Bulkhead ducked out again. Wheeljack looked at the camera, still smirking. "Oh, you're gonna be reelin' if you see that. It gives a time-stamp to this thing..." He deleted the footage. "Don't worry. Not gonna do that do you, buddy."
Wheeljack left his apartment, closing the door behind him and locking it. He seemed distracted by something, as he silently gazed at the door for a moment, and Bulkhead frowned worriedly at his friend.
"'Jackie?"
"... I'm ready," Wheeljack said quietly, turning to Bulkhead and putting on a grin. "Kaon, right?"
Bulkhead hesitated, then he sighed and nodded.
"Right," he said, then he watched as Wheeljack turned away and started walking down the hallway.
Bulkhead watched him go, then he reluctantly followed.
...
I'd like
To say
'I'm okay',
But I'm not.
...
Bulkhead caught up to Wheeljack in a few strides, and they walked side by side in silence. Wheeljack looked forward, but Bulkhead's optics were on his old friend.
Wheeljack seemed so tired, in those days—and everyone seemed to know that the white Wrecker always had a flask or cube of high-grade Energon on him, even if no one could see it.
...
I try,
But I fall.
...
Wheeljack and Bulkhead arrived at the end of the hallway and faced the elevator, and Bulkhead looked forward. He wanted to say something, anything, but it was always so hard.
Wheeljack never liked talking about it, about her.
He would just... shut down.
Wheeljack's glazed-over optics seemed to watch the lights above the elevator door as they changed, indicating the car's approach, but he was not really paying attention to it.
It took a lot to get his attention.
...
Close my mind,
Turn it off.
...
Bulkhead looked down at Wheeljack again, frowning, then he reached over and carefully placed a servo on the smaller mech's rotator-cup to try and offer some small comfort.
Wheeljack did not respond, and when the door opened to reveal the elevator, he stepped away from Bulkhead and into the car as if he had not noticed the physical contact at all.
/\
"Wheeljack, for the hundredth time: just because Prime hasn't gotten around to re-institutin' speed limits yet doesn't mean-!"
"Yeah, yeah—whatever! I'm bein' careful!" Wheeljack took a sharp turn at a street corner and turned into the skid, his tires squealing as he adjusted and sped down the street.
Bulkhead followed some distance behind him. "That was the exact OPPOSITE of careful, 'Jackie! Slow down!"
...
I can't be sober,
I cannot sleep.
...
"Tch," Wheeljack scoffed, but he slowed down just enough for he and Bulkhead to be driving side-by-side. "Not like a lot of folks are drivin' right now, anyway. They're still tryin' to get their land-legs back."
"We still have to set an example, 'Jackie," Bulkhead reminded his friend. "Team Prime, remember? All optics on us."
"Mmhm. Yep. Got it." Wheeljack mentally rolled his optics, then he started looking around at his surroundings as he kept driving.
The Omega Lock had gone through this sector and restored it, so it was primarily the Cybertronian equivalent of small town city-street housing and small businesses—almost like a Jasper on Cybertron.
Jenna would've taken one look at it and decided that every building needed a mural or paint-bomb.
...
You've got your peace, now.
What about me?
...
"Wheeljack, I know I said 'slow down', but that's a bit much."
"Huh?" Wheeljack snapped back into focus and realized he was several meters behind Bulkhead, and he quickly caught up. "Sorry. Must've... spaced-out."
Bulkhead let the again go unspoken, and they drove on.
Upon arrival in the main square of Kaon, Bulkhead and Wheeljack transformed and stood upright, their optics narrowed.
A storefront had been busted right open, and a pair of Decepticons were leaving through the door while placing the last of what was probably a good amount of stolen merchandise in their storage compartments.
"I'll take point," Bulkhead said, and Wheeljack crossed his arms and let his friend walk forward. "Alright, fellas—enough's enough. Put down the loot and put your servos in the air, and you might be lucky enough to get off with only 'destruction of private property'."
"And 'assault'," Wheeljack added, pointing at the shop. "The 'aggravated' pendin' further review." Bulkhead looked at him questioningly, and Wheeljack deadpanned. "The shopkeep, Bulk. I'm guessin' that these 'Cons didn't go in there and just say pretty please."
"... Ah." Bulkhead nodded, then he looked back at the Decepticons. "Put down the loot, and you'll probably only be dealin' with 'destruction of private property' and 'assault'."
"And 'attempted robbery'," Wheeljack pointed out. "The 'armed' is kinda a given, so-"
Bulkhead looked at Wheeljack in annoyance. "Look, I'm really glad you're having fun, but can it wait?"
"Fun?" Wheeljack raised an optic-brow. "I'm just makin' sure you don't frag-up our case by tellin' these guys somethin' stupid about what crimes they'll be charged with. A lot of scrap can mess everythin' up in court, Bulk!"
"What are you, a lawyer?" Bulkhead scoffed, then he blinked. "Wait-"
Wheeljack sighed. "We'll count the degrees later." He looked at the Decepticons, shaking his helm. "Sorry about my friend, here." He raised an optic-brow. "Why didn't you run?"
"Honestly, that was just too entertaining," one of the Decepticons—a Vehicon—told him, shrugging.
The other—a femme Seeker—groaned, rolling her optics. "This is why I don't work with Vehicons." She noticed how her 'partner' was looking at her. "... Except for you, ST3-V3! You're great!"
"It is actually kinda hurtful, how dumb you think I am," the Vehicon remarked, then he raised his servos. "Screw this. I surrender!"
"No, you don't!" The Seeker smacked her companion on the back of his helm, then she raised her arms and launched a set of missiles at the two Wreckers.
Bulkhead leapt to the side and activated his wrecking-ball and one of his cannons while Wheeljack rolled to the side and back onto his peds before he drew his swords, his optics narrowed as he briefly glanced at the explosion that went off when the missiles struck the ground.
...
Thought we had the time, had our lives—
Now you'll never get older, older!
...
"Wheeljack, I need you to-" Bulkhead blinked as he saw a flash of white move past and then his friend was suddenly kicking the Seeker to the ground and crossing his blades, stabbing them into the pavement at either side of her neck to keep her in place. "Whoa! 'Jackie, that's a bit-!"
Wheeljack, his ped still on the femme, activated one of his cannons as he spun around and found that the Vehicon had aimed his cannon right at him in return.
They both just stood there, facing each other with their weapons ready.
...
Didn't say 'goodbye', now I'm frozen in time—
Getting colder, colder!
...
Bulkhead deactivated his weapons and raised his servos, his optics wide as he looked at the Vehicon warily.
"Alright, easy," the green Wrecker tried. "No need to-"
"I'm faster," Wheeljack said, his optics narrowed. "If you think it's a bluff, try and call it. Make my fraggin' day, Steve."
"Wheeljack," Bulkhead spoke warningly, but his friend did not move.
Wheeljack kept his ped on the Seeker's chest, his optics on the Vehicon's visor, and his cannon ready.
...
One last word,
One last moment
To ask you why
You left me here, behind...
...
ST3-V3 deactivated his cannon and raised his servos, and Bulkhead sighed as he retrieved two sets of stasis-cuffs from his storage-compartment and restrained both Decepticons.
"Ultra Magnus, this is Bulkhead reporting in," the green Wrecker announced, a finger to his commlink as Wheeljack retrieved his blades and let the Seeker sit up. "We have both 'Cons in custody. Caused a bit of a mess, but no more than necessary on our part. Never even fired a shot, thanks to 'Jackie... Can you send Smokescreen and Arcee in for cleanup?" A pause, then Bulkhead nodded. "Alright. Thank you, sir."
Wheeljack sighed, sheathing his blades, then he noticed something and froze, his optics widening.
A moment passed. then the white Wrecker turned and approached it as though in a trance.
...
You said you'd grow old with me.
...
Bulkhead looked up after ending his call, surprised, then his face fell.
Wheeljack had placed his servo on a building wall, his expression crestfallen as he gazed at an explosion of white, green, turquoise, black, bright blue, and orange.
One of the final works of the Artist.
"'Jackie! 'JACKIE!"
Wheeljack didn't know when he started running, but he was in no headspace to consider stopping.
Bulkhead's voice was far away, but he needed it to be further.
...
We had plans,
We had visions—
Now, I can't see ahead.
…
He practically fell into his transformation, and he began speeding away while barely avoiding pedestrians.
He just kept taking air in and letting it out over and over again, his whole frame shaking.
He felt ready to fall apart.
"One... Two... Three... F-Four..."
...
We were one,
We were golden—
'Forever,' you said.
...
Something big and dark sped out of an alleyway and got in his path.
"WHEELJACK!" The scream made something snap. Wheeljack was transforming, landing on his peds, drawing his swords, pointing one- "Wheeljack, it's me!"
"Huh?" The white Wrecker blinked, then his face fell. His blade rested against the neck-cables of a very familiar mech, one who had his servos raised in surrender and his wide optics on him. "B... Bulkhead?"
"Yeah." Bulkhead nodded shakily. "Yeah, 'Jackie." Wheeljack's sword began to tremble as he stared at his friend. "It's okay, Wheeljack. I know you didn't-... You didn't mean it. It's okay."
Wheeljack's swords dropped to the ground.
It wasn't okay.
Bulkhead picked up Wheeljack's weapons, placed them onto his friend's back, and led his unresponsive friend into the alleyway and out of public eye.
This was not their business.
"'Jackie?" He tried, and Wheeljack just stared at him. Bulkhead could see the pain and regret in his friend's face, but he could also see the numb gradually overtaking him. "What was it, 'Jackie? The kid?"
"The kid," Wheeljack repeated, and Bulkhead helped his friend over to a wall so that they could both sit down.
Once on the ground, Wheeljack pulled his knees to his chest and hugged them, resting his forehead on them as he took deep and shaking 'breaths' to try and calm down.
"It's okay, 'Jackie." Bulkhead wrapped an arm around the smaller Wrecker, his expression forlorn. "It's okay. We should have taken things slower, today. I could tell it was a bad time, and I pushed you. This is my bad."
"I'm not a sparkling, Bulk," Wheeljack whispered. "I shouldn't be-..." The shaking ceased as the smaller mech's rotator-cups slumped, and he sighed. "I'm tired, Bulkhead. I'm so tired..."
...
I can't be sober,
I cannot sleep.
...
Bulkhead nodded. "I know, 'Jackie."
"I don't-... I just don't know what to do," Wheeljack admitted softly. "In a few months, she'll-... She'll have been gone half the time I knew her. It wasn't even very long. Why-..? Why do I still feel like this?"
"Because you cared about her, 'Jackie, and you still do."
"I wish I didn't."
"That's a lie."
...
You've got your peace, now—
What about me?
...
Wheeljack raised his helm from his knees, his expression crestfallen and an extra blue shine in his optics, then he sighed and nodded.
"Yeah, it is," he agreed. "I wish I didn't-... I wish I didn't hafta miss her, Bulk." Bulkhead pulled his friend closer, and Wheeljack closed his optics and rested his helm on his friend's rotator-cup. "Just restin' my optics."
"If you're having trouble sleepin' in that apartment, 'Jackie, you could always come stay with me."
"No." Wheeljack lightly shook his helm. "Thanks, but... no."
Bulkhead just nodded, knowing better than to press the subject. "... I think I know what'll get your mind off of things, at least for a little while. I've been waiting for a good day to surprise you."
"Hm?"
"Rest for a few minutes. Then, we'll go." Bulkhead raised an optic-brow. "Okay?"
"Okay."
/\
The bar—Haywired—was small and in Iacon's outskirts, but it was lively with 'bots and music from all across the universe.
Wheeljack followed Bulkhead in with a raised optic-brow, frowning. "I thought you were schemin' to get me off the stuff, Bulk. This seems a bit counterproductive."
"We're not here to drink," Bulkhead informed the younger and smaller mech. "Elita-1 just figured we were all in range of the joint, so it'd be good for a meet-up."
"Meet-up?"
"... I was planning on waitin' until you were in better shape." Bulkhead turned to face Wheeljack. "But I think you need this now, so... here they are."
"Huh?" Wheeljack was still confused, but when Bulkhead stepped aside and let him see a back corner of the bar, his frame tensed and his optics widened. "Oh, slag."
Elita-1 was laughing as she conversed with a group of rough-looking mechs and an equally rough-looking femme at a large booth, Ultra Magnus watching with a light smirk and a raised optic-brow.
They were all sitting there, talking, reminiscing...
"I know, right?" Bulkhead asked quietly. "I couldn't believe it either, but... there they are."
"They're all okay?"
"Yeah." Bulkhead nodded. "And they've missed you a lot, 'Jackie... Wanna head over, before they notice us first?"
"They look... just like I remember them."
"Some 'bots never change."
Wheeljack blinked, then his face fell. "Oh."
...
Thought we had the time, had our lives—
Now you'll never get older, older!
...
Wheeljack let Bulkhead grab his arm and lead him over to the table.
A green and yellow mech looked up at then in surprise before grinning, and a green mech with a cy-gar in his mouth forced a deadpan as a young red and orange mech grabbed his arm and shook him to get his attention, his bright optics wide and shining as he gazed at Wheeljack. The pale blue femme gave a light smile and raised an optic-brow, looking him up and down, and the white and red mech with wings seemed relieved and concerned all at once.
"... Springer, Kup, Rodimus, Moonracer, Jetfire," Wheeljack noted, then he forced a grin of his own. "Been a while, hasn't it?"
"Oh, really? We hadn't noticed." The green and yellow mech, Springer, slid out of the booth and stood to face Wheeljack. "You no-good, band-breakin' deserter. Leavin' in the night, barely a word."
Wheeljack crossed his arms. "What can I say? I'm uncouth."
...
Didn't say 'goodbye', now I'm frozen in time—
Getting colder, colder!
...
Springer huffed, shaking his helm. "Frag it all, kid. You scared the Pit out of us, y'know that?"
"Wouldn't be the first time." Wheeljack gave a small smirk. "Would it, Spring?"
The larger mech just looked at the white Wrecker, then he sighed. "You're a pain in my aft, you little menace, and always such a punk."
"Yep. But you missed me." Wheeljack raised an optic-brow again. "Didn't you?"
...
One last word,
One last moment—
To ask you why
You left me here, behind...
...
Springer just looked at Wheeljack for a moment, then he closed his optics and pulled the smaller mech into a hug.
"Every day, you fraggin' moron," he agreed, and the other four joined in.
Bulkhead was able to wrap his arms around all six of them when he joined in, and Elita-1 and Ultra Magnus both reached in and placed servos on Wheeljack's rotator-cups.
"... So, you and Ultra Magnus get along now?" The red and orange mech, Rodimus, asked curiously.
Wheeljack deadpanned, closing his optics. "Just shut up and let me have this, Rodi."
Wheeljack sat quietly, offering the occasional forced smile as the others told stories about the war and the adventures they had after the Exodus.
When the bar started clearing out, he slipped out of the crowded booth and found a table he could sit at alone, a cube of high-grade in his servo and an ear-piece in his audial sensors.
He needed space, and he needed something to calm down.
...
You said you'd grow old with me.
...
Wheeljack closed his optics as the song finished playing.
He knew the recording by spark, enough to know the exact timing. 'Three, two, one...'
:Pit, kid—I'll admit it,: his own recorded voice spoke. :You humans can write songs that cause physical pain. Primus, that just-:
:Sorry, 'Jackie.: Her voice chuckled. The Jackhammer's surveillance system had picked that laugh up perfectly, too perfectly. :I'll try to play a good one, next. Just keep in mind that my options are limited. We are in space, y'know?:
:Oh, gee—really? I had no idea!:
:'Jackie!:
Wheeljack paused it there, sighing and giving a small smile.
That was one of the few surveillance clips that survived the Jackhammer's crash at Darkmount, and the only one containing his partner.
Listening to that scrap-awful song was worth it for that ending.
"Now, there's what we've been missin'," a voice spoke, and Wheeljack blinked before looking up. Springer was standing there, grinning. "'Bout time we saw a real smile on that face, kid. You'd think you were attendin' a funeral."
Wheeljack gripped his high-grade cube.
Bulkhead, still nearby, noticed the exchange and quickly began making his way over, Ultra Magnus and Elita-1 not far behind him.
"Aw, come on." Springer gave a small smirk, sitting down next to Wheeljack and nudging him with his elbow. "You're actin' weird, 'Jackie—and we haven't seen you in ages. We should be celebratin'!" The smaller Wrecker did not respond. "You're bringin' down the party, kid. What's on your mind?"
"Spring, stop," Bulkhead pleaded as he arrived, his expression forlorn. "He needs some time, okay? 'Jackie-... 'Jackie went through a lot, the final few stellar-cycles of the war."
"Oh, I heard," Springer announced, rolling his optics. "Captured three times, right? And you crashed the Jackhammer at least four times? You're losing your touch, Wheeljack."
"Springer, enough." Bulkhead's optics narrowed. "Just leave him alone."
Springer looked back at him, raising an optic-brow. "What's with you, big guy?"
"Just lay off, okay? 'Jackie isn't in a good way."
"Isn't in a good way? For real? Come on, Bulk—'Jackie never changes, and he doesn't get soft for anythin'," Springer insisted, not noticing how Wheeljack's fists clenched and his Energon cube cracked. "What could've been so bad that it'd make you think you've gotta protect him like this? Sure, he's always been one of the babies in the group—but whatever happened, it probably wasn't that big of a d-"
"SHUT UP!" Wheeljack snapped, and the whole bar went silent.
Wheeljack stood and stormed off, and the Wreckers and some of the other bar patrons watched him go in confusion.
Elita-1, Ultra Magnus, and Bulkhead were visibly forlorn.
"Was it somethin' I said?" Springer asked, looking up at the three, and Bulkhead shook his helm. "What?"
"... He lost his partner." Bulkhead looked at him, frowning. "He picked her up while he was travelin', taught her everything he could... She died during the Battle of the Well, and she was just a kid." Springer's expression fell, and Bulkhead looked away, his fists clenching. "She was just a kid..."
"And she was a good, brave soldier," Ultra Magnus agreed, his expression saddened. "And her sacrifice led to the complete restoration of our world... We owe everything we have to her, and Wheeljack is still trying to get over the loss." Ultra Magnus looked away. "We all are. She was... a dear friend."
"She saved Optimus's life, that day." Elita-1 closed her optics. "All of our lives... and then, she was just gone."
"... Oh, no." Springer sighed, standing up. "I need to go and talk to him."
Springer tried to follow Wheeljack, but Bulkhead grabbed his rotator-cup. "He's not gonna want you to-"
"I know, but I'm goin' anyway," Springer insisted, shoving Bulkhead's rotator-cup off. "When that kid first joined us, we all promised we would look after him."
"Yeah, we did," Bulkhead agreed. "And then we didn't, Spring... There's a lot we didn't know about 'Jackie, back in the day. That girl, she... brought out the best in him, and I learned a lot." The green Wrecker shook his helm. "We messed-up, Springer. We messed-up big time."
/\
When Springer finally managed to track Wheeljack down hours later, he knew the place.
It was in the outskirts of Polyhex, and had thus far gone untouched by the Omega Lock, so it was just like it was when he last saw it—when it served as a campsite for the Wreckers, back during the days of the war.
That only made things worse, since the kid looked a lot like he did that night as well—older and covered in many more scars, but still too close for comfort. He looked tired, defensive, isolated, and worst of all: small.
"... Do you remember how snotty you were, when Bulkhead brought you in?" The older mech asked, sitting down on the broken piece of wall beside the place where the white Wrecker was sitting on the floor. The building was old and in disrepair, crumbling all around them. "I mean, yeah—we all pointed weapons at you on sight, but those were the times." He glanced over at the younger mech, giving a small smirk. "I guess we all felt sorry for you, though. You looked rough, so... we figured it'd been a bit since you'd had any decent company."
"... Decent company, huh?" Wheeljack glanced up at him, giving a light smirk as he hugged his knees a bit tighter to his chest. "That what you call it?"
"Like you're such a joy to be around, ya brat." Springer nudged the smaller mech with his ped. "You were a no-good, complainin', foul-mouthed smart-aft who started out all mood and no spine." His expression softened. "And then, you became the best damn Wrecker any of us ever served with... right up until you left."
"Hm." Wheeljack looked down again, then he closed his optics. "Yeah."
"... Wheeljack, the war went on after your fallin' out with Magnus—and I know for a fact that you didn't leave until the Exodus, 'cause I heard the rumors," Springer pressed. "What happened to you, out there?"
"I guess I just... picked up where I left off." Wheeljack shrugged, opening his optics. "Makin' bombs, settin' traps... and wipin' out any 'Con that got in my way."
"Sounds lonely."
"It was simple," Wheeljack stated. "For thousands of years, it was simple." His face fell, then he closed his optics and rested his forehead on his knees. "And then, one day... it wasn't."
"... I'm sorry, Wheeljack," Springer finally said it. "I'm sorry about your partner. I didn't know... What was her name?"
Wheeljack shook his helm. "She was from Earth, a techno-organic. You'll probably think-"
"Let's forget what I think, for a bit."
"... Jenna." Wheeljack looked up at him, frowning. "Kid's name was Jenna Darby... Most of the 'Cons called her the Artist."
Springer blinked. "Hold on. I saw some crazy colors, up on a wall over in Kaon... Was that-?"
"Yeah." Wheeljack managed a weak smirk. "She-... She had these bombs she'd use on the 'Cons; they packed a big punch, and they let her leave a pretty distinguishable mark."
"I haven't heard that tone from you before, kid." Springer gave a small grin. "I'm starting to think she was more than a partner." Wheeljack did not reply, and Springer sighed. "... What's going through that head of yours, 'Jackie?"
Wheeljack's dentas clenched. "Don't call me that."
"Bulkhead still-"
"Bulk's different."
Silence fell for a moment, then Springer sighed again. "Bulkhead said that you taught her everything, that she was a real Wrecker in the end... If you want, we can give her a real Wrecker sendoff."
"... It's been a year, Spring." Wheeljack looked back at him, his optics narrowed. "I'm already stuck tryin' to avoid one sendoff they're tryin' to arrange. Don't make it two." The white Wrecker looked down, his face falling. "There's no body, anyway... Primus took that from us, too."
"Kid-"
"Don't call me that."
"... Wheeljack, you've gotta snap out of it," Springer said quietly. "This isn't you, and it's honestly freakin' me out—and I know I'm not the only one."
"Spring-"
"You have to let her go." The older mech placed a servo on Wheeljack's rotator-cup. "If not for yourself and everyone else... do it for her." Wheeljack blinked, surprised. "You showed her the best of you... What would she think, if she knew she was responsible for you bein' at your worst?" Springer watched as the white Wrecker looked down. "You'll see her again, when all are one. Until then, be the Wheeljack she knows... The Wheeljack who loved that girl."
"... I'll try," Wheeljack managed, but his spark was not in it.
Springer sighed, shaking his helm. "I wish I could believe you, but... I think I know you too well for that, ya punk." Another beat of silence. "... Remember when your little ear-thingies used to glow when you talked?"
"SPRING!" Wheeljack looked up, his optics wide. "We agreed to NEVER speak of that!"
"Got you to feel somethin' other than sorry for yourself for a moment, didn't it?" Springer asked, raising an optic-brow and grinning, and Wheeljack blinked. "Once a Wrecker, Wheeljack, always a Wrecker." He squeezed the younger mech's shoulder. "Welcome back."
"... Thanks, Spring," Wheeljack said quietly, producing a weak grin, then he deadpanned. "But mention the glow-ears thing again, and I'll have to kill you."
"Heh. I know."
/\
In the last year, Wheeljack had taken up the habit of doing nightly checks of the Jackhammer's systems.
He made certain that everything was in working order, that the maintenance was kept up, that the Energon was stocked up, that the tank and backup tanks were full and ready to go...
He wasn't sure why he did that, what trip he was preparing for.
He had no plans to leave, no overwhelming desire to go.
There was just something... missing, and he'd found everything he thought he'd ever need the last time he'd gone on a real flight out into the starways—no rules, no plan, no destination.
Maybe some part of him thought he could do it again, even though it was impossible.
There was no replacing what he had lost.
"Alright." Wheeljack sighed, taking a small red lightbulb from a box and walking over to the dashboard. "Time to stop puttin' this off..."
He had broken the old one a year ago, watching that damn video.
He hadn't really touched the message and recording database in the ship's comm system since, mostly out of spite.
It was the one thing he neglected in his nightly checks, and it was time to stop.
Wheeljack removed the broken bulb and put it in the box, then he screwed the new one in. He turned away, heading out to dispose of the trash, then he noticed a flashing red light illuminating the space before him and blinked before looking back.
The bulb, it was flashing—just as it had a year ago.
"Damn thing must be busted," Wheeljack muttered, walking over and getting down on one knee to start examining the consul.
His thumb accidentally hit the button that activated the whole system, and the Wrecker rolled his optics before blinking as he saw that there was a year-old unopened file.
It was titled No Chick-Flick Moments, and it was huge.
"Huh?" Wheeljack blinked, raising an optic-brow, then he clicked on the file.
A video popped up, and it began to play on its own.
...
Jenna Darby stood in the Jackhammer with her hand against the camera, as if this video was taken just after her goodbye-video, and she slowly lowered her hand.
The girl gave a small grin. "... P.S."
...
Wheeljack blinked, surprised, then he just stared at the screen in disbelief.
It wasn't over?
"... What?"
...
Jenna crossed her arms, beaming.
"You didn't think I would leave you high and dry like that, did you? That was WAY too depressing of a note for us to end off on," she insisted. "I mean, come on—it's us. We're too awesome for that depressing, chick-flick-type B.S. to be how our story gets to end. I know how you can be about endings, and goodbyes..." Her expression softened. "So, I'm gonna do my best to help you through this so that you can remember the good times—just like you always wanna do with the Wreckers. It's the least I can do." The artist's little smile returned. "You're my best friend, my partner... and I'll always be looking out for you, 'Jackie."
...
That video ended, and Wheeljack's jaw dropped as something popped up—a title screen, like at the start of a movie.
It was blue with a silvery symbol for the Autobots, and there was one link to click on: Chapters.
Wheeljack clicked the link, and he was stunned to find pages and pages of videos—most of which were each under ten minutes.
"Whoa..." He gave a small grin, and he clicked one at random. "What've you got for me, kid?"
...
Jenna held a camera up, grinning and flashing a peace-sign. She was sitting in the shotgun-seat of a car...
"Day ninety-five of Jenna Darby and Wheeljack's world-tour! I'm Jenna Darby!" She aimed the camera at the steering-wheel. "... Dude!"
"What?"
"We've gone over this ninety-four times! What are you supposed to say?"
"... And I'm Wheeljack," Wheeljack grumbled, then he scoffed. "Kid, for the ninety-fifth time, if anyone got ahold of that phone-"
"You assume I would ever let it out of my sight! It's my preciousssssss~!" Jenna giggled before clearing her throat. "Anyway, we're on our way to Niagara Falls! I've never been anywhere even close to Canada, so I'm hyped. 'Jackie?"
"What's so special about water fallin' over a cliff?"
"It does so with enough force to crush you like a soda-can, Wheel-jackass," Jenna announced smugly, and Wheeljack went silent. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Cool, right?"
"... Maybe."
"Tch." Jenna turned the camera back to show her face, and she beamed. "We should be arriving tomorrow. For now, it's just open road and good music."
"No more Greatest Showman!"
"FIGHT ME!" Jenna shouted, smiling deviously as she hit a button on the radio and sang along with the music. "
RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW—
I PUT THE OFFER OUT!"
"Kid!"
"I DON'T WANT TO CHASE YOU DOWN,
I KNOW YOU SEE IT!"
"KID!"
...
Wheeljack was laughing as the video ended and the screen returned to the menu.
He looked up, grinning, then his face fell. "Oh, kid... I'd listen to those stupid songs on repeat for the rest of my life, if you could be here."
... Ow.
This one caused me physical pain, not gonna lie.
Writing a character experiencing intense grief is no picnic, guys—but in light of how the story has gone so far, I thought it was appropriate given the relationship I designed and the manner in which it was suddenly severed.
There's this hurt and sadness—he misses her so much—but there is also guilt and rage, and a bitterness that arises in the form of a hyper-fixation with the idea of how others will handle his death and how he should make it hurt less for him in case of the inevitable.
I sprinkled in some of my usual bullshit to lighten the mood here and there, but it was a pretty rough scene.
Part 2's shaping up to be a bit shorter than I expected—think of the "parts" as marks separating what the focus of the story will be on, really—and it might be more of a mini-series, about a third of the length of Part 1.
Still, based on this, I think we can all be thankful for that.
A lot of research goes into the Cybertron-based chapters, not gonna lie. I'm looking up characters that never appeared in Prime or Animated and trying to create forms for them in this universe, I'm looking up what cities on this planet were within driving distance of each other, I'm doing a bunch of fun stuff with this despite the not-so-fun times that this part takes place in.
Hopefully, this'll just make Part 3 seem all the more exciting.
I only own my OC. Please read, review, check out my other stories, etc. Thanks! :)
...
...
...
Comments Hall of Fame!
merendinomiliano
"Lovely chapter. Though I'd have liked more action."
(It can't all be straight action. That would be just a bit too intense for me... and I'd rather not turn this into a Michael Bay production.
We're in this for the slow-burn development and commitment to the trials endured by the characters! XD
... No? Just me? Okay.
If it makes you feel any better, I have some serious boss-fights in the works. Part 3 is focused on Wheeljack's individual character development, so they're not gonna fall here... but when they do show up, they get fucking intense.
I'm not one for fight-scenes, but those ones? Damn.)
.
QueenNatQuil
"Omg dude when I read this all I can hear is Jenna killing it. This is what I hear when Jenna sings like omg"
(I saw that you commented twice, trying to get this link to me.
Don't worry: I plugged it in, and I'm pretty sure I found the right video.
... Wow.
Just... WOW.
That is absolutely incredible, and learning that someone would tie a voice as amazing as that to my character...
I think I'll always be left wondering about who she is, to all of you—this character I've created.
I've given you a few physical features and heavy-set traits, but certain things are left up entirely to your imagination. She does not have an official design, she does not have a voice actress, she never existed in canon to have certain things be set in stone for someone watching her.
I wrote her here, and you clicked a link and started reading and made up your minds about who she was from what you saw.
And honestly? I think that's the best part.
Someone can take this character and hear her.
They can pick a voice, and they can decide that her voice floats off of the page when she speaks and that is her voice—and no one can take that from you.
The same could be said for her face, the build of her body, the exact shade of her skin and the shape of her features. I never even really specified her height.
Someone can take this character and see her.
It might not be the way I see her, but that's okay. If you've gotten this far, how you see her might be very important. How I see her is inconsequential.
The Artist can be interpreted in many ways.
I just hope that, however she is interpreted, she helps.
I hope that she makes people smile, laugh, cry, think, and wonder.
... And I appreciate the fact that you believe she killed it, Queen. That is exactly what I was going for when I wrote this bit in that chapter. XD
"Yeah, uh..." Wheeljack blinked, surprised. "She never sang like this while we were traveling. She stuck to the male songs."
"Hm." Bumblebee smirked and nudged Wheeljack. "Star-struck by your girlfriend?"
All of the Autobots who heard that seemed to lose their composure.
Smokescreen started laughing, Bulkhead gaped, Ultra-Magnus seemed alarmed and his mouth had fallen slightly open, and Optimus's optics had widened.
Bumblebee snickered as he saw Raf looking up at Wheeljack in shock, and the white Wrecker looked like a deer in headlights. "What?! I don't know what you're-! We're just-!"
Good times...)
...
...
...
Ask a Character!
No submissions, this time around. :(
...
...
...
See ya, next time! :)
