Summary- Tailgate ropes Cyclonus on a cruise trip and Cyclonus mulls over the status quo.
AN- This is the last real chapter. For this chapter, the POV has returned to Cyclonus to give his outlook on that which Tailgate has been narrating recently.
It was a cruise.
Tailgate had been the one to run up with a pad showing off tickets and the descriptions of the business itself.
"Look at it!" he had shoved the screen up towards him. The excited bouncing kept Cyclonus from actually being able to read at that moment. It didn't matter, in turn. The issue had been more than talked over during the preceding jours.
The actual business was based in the outer rim. That was likely the only reason he'd eventually caved. Chances were decent that, out there, it'd be a good spread of aliens and differently aligned cybertronians who all- faction or not- had a preference for the wild neutral diluted attitude of the outer systems. They could hardly go on an autobot tourist cruise, after all. Not as a couple, since Cyclonus wouldn't be able to go at all. The empire didn't exactly have a tourist industry and so their deception alternative would be some 'worthy quest' that would sight-see inadvertently. Something like that would also only be an option for one of them. The neutral tourist industry in this busier part of the galaxy implied in name that they could safely vacation together. But there were too many restrictions half the time. Either an uncomfortable amount of forms and promises anyone vaguely warframe in shape would have to sign to get on or bad service given to commonwealth citizens by those making assumptions or holding grudges.
All of this kept Cyclonus suspicious of any proposed 'vacation'.
None of that kept Tailgate down.
It was admirable how much sheer persevering motivation the bot had. For the most part, Cyclonus was fond and proud of that trait of his. The minority of the time, he exasperatedly dragged himself along some new excessive plan. This cruise that Tailgate had gotten so dead set on taking was one of the latter moments. At least outwardly. He'd bought the tickets and they'd flown out to some large space station near the outer rim of one galactic arm and just let his partner do all the celebrations and excited talking on the matter. When he did talk, it was to complain about how pointless it was for things like tourist cruises to exist. For all that complaining, he'd caved fast to the bright hopeful blue visor that had waved those tickets at his face and seemed rather content to sit on their berth, looking out at the sights of space beyond their vidscreen window while Tailgate ran around the room accessorizing it. Because of course he'd brought decorations. A picture here, a statuette there, all from the habsuite that he had on Raeyann, the neutral world that the autobot had moved to stellar cycles before. And, while technically he was still active on the roster and did spent time on Chaar, Cyclonus tended to spent the majority of cycles on that world as well. He was very familiar with seeing some of these decorations loitering around.
As someone who'd seen every accessory and decoration and bit of life from a separate world get burned away in light, Cyclonus found possessions rather mortal. Mortal, as in mortality. Borrowed time. Finiteness. Very much temporary. Just like this cruise and any cruise offering a vacation plan that had lasted in the business environment for vorns before as if it would continue to last forever after. In shorter terms, he was not much one for possessions. Tailgate was a different person than him in that regard.
Cyclonus wouldn't change that for the (either) world.
Content with 'personalizing' the room they'd be sharing and the quality of room service, Tailgate had decided he wanted to go visit some place from this floor's map called a 'gift shop'. It seemed he'd guessed rather smoothly that Cyclonus had no interest in the sound of such a place, so the autobot ran off to it alone and left the mech resting on that berth.
It was a nice view. It was a fair trade, truly; Tailgate would enjoy whatever money-trap of useless items he went to browse and Cyclonus would enjoy the stars. They had a better fire once one had seen so many of their lights blocked out.
And in the quiet, with only the hum of a ship to give him ambience, he felt meditative. It was that quiet, truly. The silence left him alone and sometimes-
sometimes alone was what he needed.
And sometimes, even still, he felt the whisper of a servo, giving him pushes whenever the future felt a little too daunting. How odd it was for the past to wish itself so gone on his behalf.
The door slid open some time later to break him free of timeless reverie. Tailgate bounced in lightly, arms full of apparent souvenirs. Some held logos belonging to the cruise's company. Others were propping up future sights and destinations on route. He supposed souvenirs were, by some nature, mere advertisements and swallowed down annoyance.
The minibot let all the little items slide onto a small table included in the quarters; he picked one up to hold at optic level even as he glanced back at Cyclonus.
"I know, I know." Tailgate motioned with the little metal round thing (he couldn't actually tell what it was). "Possessions are useless and temporary and a waste of money except money is a possession too and therefore also pointless."
True enough. He hadn't said it though. Hidden in the shade of his helm's hood, one brow raised. His partner made a tiny snorting noise to withhold laughter.
"Here, I got a couple of these 'card' thingies that the clerk recommended; we can send 'em out to all our friends."
Right. Because Tailgate was oddly convinced they had a comfortable, friendly social circle.
The ease was endearing. It may have been the only reason such an illusionary friend group even worked.
"The rest are kinda useless," the smaller mech continued on with a happy shrug, looking at his pile of souvenirs. "But I liked getting them. The gift shop here is fun! I had a good time there."
And that was the point. They were here to have a worthwhile time together. Or apart, doing the separate activities that contented them, but together still.
"I'm gonna set them up all over our place back on Raeyann!" Tailgate continued, speaking his vision with a grandiose spread of his digits as though picturing souvenirs encased on the walls of a distant room. "Anyway, how was the view here while I was gone?"
The question led Cyclonus to glance out the vid-screen again; his shoulders shifted in not-quite a shrug. "It was peaceful." He approved of it.
Tailgate's visor was displaying the expression he'd learned was smug.
"There's more shops on the other levels. At some point, I'd like to get to them too. But first, we can order something to the room to fuel on and just enjoy that peaceful view that this pointless glamorous ship is offering us."
Ah, and so the jab ran its full circle. He kept himself from letting a smile of his own slip free. That had been a rather roundabout way to get to the point.
"And I know you think this entire industry is useless or temporary too, so that counts for the room and the engex and the gift shops and the view and..."
Yes, the point had gotten across.
That smug look was altogether too confident from where it was tilted up at him (Tailgate had wandered over to the berth in order to hit him with the maximum attention of that expression); altogether too confidently smug and adorable.
"Soo. Frivolous use of time or not, are you happy here?"
More than I deserve to be.
Cyclonus didn't vocalize the emotion. He felt his rare smile and brief nod were enunciations enough. Should they ever not be...he would just hope that Tailgate informed him. His own philosophy on emotions and words shouldn't compromise the very happiness he did not deserve to have obtained here. It would not compromise it.
The roundabout way of asking if he'd had just as much fun staring out a vid-screen window as the other had shopping completed, Tailgate crawled up on the berth and clunked against his side to look at the view too.
The experience was so very peaceful. There was a quiet there still, just as there had been as he had been in here solitary. But it was not the same form of silence.
Tailgate broke that quiet every once in a while to make some observation. Whether that was pointing energetically at some bright star or saying what some constellation looked like to him at this outer territory's angle, it was always refreshing and a bit odd. Tailgate's feedback had the habit of being a bit like that.
After some time, the bot had gone still, helm laying against his leg plating comfortably. The light stasis was understandable, considering how busy they'd both been over the orns just to make this vacation work. Tailgate deserved to rest. Besides, he liked having the other lay against him like this.
The quiet of this exhausted recharge left him with only his own mind, though. His mind and all the voices that thoughts came and went with. Even as his claws were gently placed around the smaller frame, the vaguest sensation of a separate set seemed to rest curled around one point of a shoulder. Its owner seemed to be there in his peripherals: enough to see expressions, but staying away from direct sight. It could never withstand direct visualization, if simply because there was nothing there to be sensed.
"Why now?" Cyclonus muttered into the cabin. The bot resting against him continued on in content stasis.
The servo pretended to shift around and poke at his shoulder teasingly.
What? Has it been a while? the vision in his peripherals spoke back. Not waiting for another vocalization, the voice went on. You hadn't gotten a chance to show me your new roommate. Not directly, at the least.
The pang that followed- the pain that came from knowing he couldn't ever introduce Tailgate to this or any other erased figure in reality- was duller than it had been in vorns past.
"Strika's team keeps me rather busy," he thought aloud. "And Tailgate rarely rests enough to give moments of silence like this up to..."
You don't have as much time to think about me, the vague form of the commander he'd lost tilted his head, a smile evident there even with his form restricted to the corner of Cyclonus's vision.
It hurt. It did not hurt as much as he felt it should.
"I'll never forget anything," he heard himself defend.
Stop, you. Galvatron seemed to shake his head in amusement. You knew this was going to happen in time. It's not forgetting. It's just letting memories do what they're supposed to do.
Almost as though the ghost noticed it was acting too out of character for the part it was playing, silver faceplates left the subject of dulling memories and looked down at Tailgate.
You've had plenty of distractions to keep your time preoccupied, the comment came snidely. That much, at least, sounded natural for its supposed speaker.
"Yes," Cyclonus agreed. One servo drifted up from Tailgate's back to rest on his helm instead. Always gently, kept back by a fear of hurting his much more minuscule companion. "This is Tailgate. You've seen him."
After all, the vision saw all Cyclonus had, witnessed every moment of his life and the thoughts that accompanied it. Even still, Tailgate did not have total reason to know how deep the affection for the friend he'd lost went; was unaware of how the feelings of missing, of wishing the lost mech was there, played out. It was not easy for him to say as much. It wasn't easy for him to talk on anything. That hadn't frustrated Tailgate into quitting. Not yet. And if they'd reached this point? Maybe not ever. Cyclonus would learn to speak before that frustration arrived.
Oh, I have. I like him enough, Galvatron voiced approval. He's spunky. And he couldn't have picked a better consort than you.
"I like him enough too," Cyclonus repeated the understatement with an edge of amusement. It faded as his thoughts went somber. Went to this moment, this peace. All of them. Both of them. His consort and his companion. Here, in the same space. An happy scenario that only he could see and that- that alone- flayed past some of the more dull aspects of long-past hurt. "But- still." His optics shuttered briefly in a sigh. "I wish you were with us."
Sure, the phantom smirked. But don't let my absence stop you from living with everything you've got here.
And...
And he wouldn't. He hadn't. Not in stellar cycles. He was happy. Far, far happier than he either deserved or had thought vorns ago that he would ever manage to be.
The vague shape that was only present when Tailgate wasn't awake kept that smirk there, that familiar, desired, nostalgic expression. Cyclonus had been Galvatron's best side; he'd functioned as the best of the commander, had kept the other focused and anchored. And Galvatron had given Cyclonus the strength and direction he'd needed then to become who he was. How fitting his memory continue to push him towards his better development potential.
It was his own imagination speaking, he was sure of that, but hearing it in the other's voice did help push a realization he'd already had; that he'd had long ago and been hesitant to admit. What he had now was his present treasure. Looking back merely distracted from the wholeness of that present; he did not have to feel guilty at noticing he was no longer looking back often. In time, this present treasure could end as well. It would end. All things did.
Cyclonus would not stress over that inevitability. It would come when it came. There was no reason to rush the pain and miss the present. There was no need to hang on to the losses of the past and there was no need to shield from future loss to come.
Whatever came next in the grand political or military or even wildly alien scheme, it would not be faced alone. He had a cause. Outside that cause, he had his alignment with a team that he'd grown mildly attached to and a warlord that would or could eventually change the status of their world forever. Within it, he had the place on Raeyann. He had Tailgate. He had a whole universe to explore together, if that was the direction their adventure would take them on. Before, when he had pulled away from starting any new paths, from opening any new doors, he had existed on in a state of stagnation. It had not been living.
Any journey ended.
In some ways, the mortality of those journeys was what made them livable to start with.
Cyclonus slid down against the metal of the berth and held Tailgate against him there. Enjoyed the proximity for just a brief moment before reaching out to plug them both into the recharge station at their heads.
His optics shuttered and arms tightened around his sleeping partner. In the moment- with the stars on the vidscreen and the warm decorated lived-in look of this temporary room and the other cuddled gently in his arms- Cyclonus felt no fear.
And so the scene closed as recharge overtook conscious systems and the smile that had crawled into place in still happiness stayed present through the approaching stasis.
