"Smokescreen… you don't have to do this for me. We could just go and I could sort out the family stuff on my own. I'm… sorry that I'm dragging you into this."
How many times do you have to say you're sorry before the word loses all meaning? That thought dominated his mind throughout the drive, apologizing to Smokescreen many times that he had been drawing him close to a part of his own personal life that he had never really talked about with others.
"Ro… really, don't worry. I said I'd be with you, right? Well, I gotta make good on my word, man."
Roland's thoughts ebbed and flowed into these fits of anxiety and panicked reflection as he guided Smokescreen to a place he hadn't even so much as contemplated visiting for the past few years. As they crossed from New Mexico into the familiar environs of Arizona, seeing more and more of the American southwest and its imposing and beautiful vistas, he couldn't even focus on how beautiful they looked. While yes, it made for some conversation with Smokescreen as they were able to gaze at the sights with the benefit of how Earth looked rather stunning in the early dawn, memories that Roland was hesitant to expose and articulate dominated his mind. When Smokescreen reached closer to the very city of Flagstaff and when the singer was spouting out names of streets and neighborhoods that carried about a familiarity… the discomfort of being back home drew him into a silence that he knew Smokescreen would inevitably pick up on. The familiarity hurt in its own particular way, especially as urbanity became the suburbs, memories flowing back through his mind that resonated in his chest as sentiments he thought he left behind so long ago were now dominating his mind.
"That street right down there and the house just to the right once we get to the end… that was home for me. Once we're there…"
He couldn't finish the sentence. He hadn't really given a good explanation to Smokescreen except in saying that the way to explain the story behind his mother, Joanne Morrow, would be to visit his hometown and gather some things that he wanted to show to the Autobot. It would mean having to visit a childhood home that he had not been in for years, that number being something he did not have the heart to quantify. There was a comfort in the fact that he was saying all of this while he was seated inside Smokescreen's interior, the Autobot's attempts at soothing him as they were driving deeper into the suburbs able to help keep Roland's emotions at bay. He scarcely wondered how he came across to the Autobot, with the singer failing to even appear calm. He wasn't even sure what to describe what his feelings worse, some version of anxiety, moroseness, lamentation, fear, and eventually melancholy landing their way through his mind as they drove closer.
Yet, that fear began to draw to a climax as Smokescreen took a right to the street he noted earlier. The whole trip to Flagstaff and consequently his childhood home had become such a disturbingly quick blur to the point where he realized he wasn't even ready for what was to come after. It was when Roland saw the first signs of his childhood home was where he realized he hadn't even so much as mentioned his own father to the Autobot. He almost couldn't breathe as he gripped the steering wheel, the panic beginning to blur through his vision as he was only half-aware of the fear that gripped at his chest.
"Ro? Ro? Slag, hold on." He could only barely see Smokescreen beginning to pull into a patch of street next to a neighbor's house, stopping front of something that seemed vaguely familiar to the singer.
"Ro, breathe for me, man. Your vital signs are spiking dangerously. Frag… hold on, Ro. Listen to the sound of my voice, breathe for me."
A sensation of warm air went through the car interior as Roland listened to Smokescreen's instructions intently, nothing but pure instinct guided him as he tried to focus his mind on careful breathing. This kind of acute anxiety was something he'd only scarcely recognized when he was due to go on some sort of stage to perform for strangers he barely knew. However, the difference between then and now was that this kind of anxiety tore at his chest in a way that performing never would. He wanted so badly to confront why this was the case, his mind dancing around memories of a family he had not seen for a while. He was on the verge of coming face to face with reckonings he had not even so much as acknowledged for years, old wounds that hadn't even healed being reopened once more.
Smokescreen's voice help soothe some of the more destructive thoughts away from his mind, with Roland believing that there was at least some sort of stability in the minutes ahead. Awful as it felt to have the Autobot so close to his past and for putting him through these moments, he didn't want to turn away Smokescreen after he'd quite literally asked to take him to his childhood home. He needed to be strong for the rookie's sake. As much as his mind continued to run amok with its panic, seeing Smokescreen work so hard to try to calm him down allowed Roland a way for his mind to focus on the sound of the Autobot's voice more clearly.
"There we go, Ro. There we go. Just breathe for me and we can talk. You don't even need to go through with what you want to. I… this looks hard for you, Ro. But, whatever happens, it's going to be okay. You are here. You're with me."
As surreal as it was to hear Smokescreen sound so sincere, he wanted nothing more than to believe the words emanating from the speakers. He quickly nodded, whispering an 'okay' back as he took a few moments to allow his breathing to steady and for his vision to clear.
"Okay… I'm okay, I think I'm okay." Roland finally felt like he could emerge from what had occurred earlier.
"Are you sure?"
"I am."
"Aight. Just making sure." It was comforting also to hear the light smile in the Autobot's voice. "Ro, I know you don't just panic like that. I… know how easily you get nervous. But out there, you did just fine. Are you… do you wanna talk about it? I know you wanted to show me something about your creator, but I get the feeling there's more."
How correct Smokescreen was, to the point where Roland could only hum in acknowledgement. It's not that he didn't want to hide anything from the rookie he had slowly but surely began to treasure more of as a friend since the day he met him, but neither did the singer want to overshare or recount details of his childhood that would probably cause more conversations to drag. It was a brutal reminder of just how short their trip had been in the scale of even a human's lifetime, this being a manner of mere days versus the years he had been trying not to remember. There was much he didn't want to hold back from the Autobot, and Roland would pin his hopes on an instinct that enough time had passed that perhaps sharing this part of his life would not be so overly forward and sudden. He sighed as he summoned memories of a father he had not seen in years, trying to find a way to package the very reasons that made him panic earlier without losing it once more.
"I… this is about my other parent, Smokescreen." He started, heaving a breath to try and steady himself. "I haven't seen my father In a few years, not since I left for Chicago. He and I… aren't in the best of terms, and this is the first time I'll even so much as talk to him in years. I… never really stayed in contact with him and…" He stopped there, trying to keep things measured.
"Ro… I didn't know… man…" It was so strange to hear so much… sympathy in the rookie's voice, though Roland could only ruefully smile in response.
"I never said anything, Smokescreen. I… hadn't even thought about him until I realized what it meant for both of us to go back to… where I'm from."
"I wish I could help ya… be actually there for you when ya gotta talk to him. Slag, if only my holoform was actually workin'. Don't think it'd be a good idea to… do the whole Autobot thing in front of him, huh?"
"Smokescreen, no… you don't have to do anything. My Dad and I have… drama. I don't want you to get caught up in it too much. It's… not healthy for him nor I. I don't want you to feel all the effects of it too." It's not that he didn't trust the young Autobot. If anything, it's because of that trust is precisely why he didn't want the storms of the Morrow family to land in Smokescreen's proverbial doorstep, especially given that the rookie would have to shoulder so much of his own as an Autobot soldier.
"Ro… I just don't want ya to feel alone, y'know? I know I can't do much, but still, just wanted to offer. I won't budge if it's something you feel you need to do on your own, but just know if you need me…"
Roland couldn't help the trembling smile through his face, gripping the steering wheel as the closest thing to an affirming squeeze he could muster. There will come a day where he knew that he'd have to rely on Smokescreen beyond just the aims of being defended from the Decepticons… if not family drama, then most certainly something related to the already wild whims of the industry that he was going to be entering in a few months' time, under the assumption he'd find some sort of landing point within there in the first place.
"I know… thank you, I mean that, thank you." Roland breathed out, finding some version of being able to relax his mind through the Autobot's reassurances. He found a comfort in just how the earnest the rookie sounded, trying not to be too visibly moved. "This shouldn't take too long. I just need to get a couple of things and we can drive up to my mom's grave. And… I'll tell you the story behind everything, at least as far as I remember. Does… that sound okay?"
"Whatever you're comfortable with, Ro… I shouldn't keep ya. If you need anything… you have your phone. Even if I can't be in there with you, that doesn't mean you'll be fully alone."
"Thank you… I'll be back soon, I promise."
He stepped out of Smokescreen's interior to feel the air of a place he once called home. It was strange to think in a matter of a few days, he would be back where it all proverbially began. Each step towards his old house was a difficult one, but still Roland knew that trying to delay things wasn't going to benefit anybody involved. He just needed to keep things simple, hoping that he didn't start some sort of complex dialogue with the father estranged himself from, even though he knew that he owed his parent a much longer conversation than one he was willing to give. Still, Roland steeled his nerves as he found himself near the door, hesitantly pressing the doorbell. This would've been easier with keys, yet he willingly surrendered those the moment he consented to spending his days chasing fame in Chicago.
It took a while, but he heard movement behind the worn entrance to his childhood home. It was surreal to hear the clicking of a lock and the creaking of the wood, knowing that the door would turn to reveal worn form of his father. Julian Morrow, a father he had not seen in a few years, a father that he had left in more uncertain terms than not, stood in front of Roland with a visibly shocked expression. He could hardly read the expression that overcame the older man's face, shock being obvious from the forefront, but conflict tore through each crease of his face. Roland tried to distract himself by pinpointing the slight differences he saw in his father since the last time they saw each other. Aging was the obvious sign, whatever brown hair he had that kept graying as his father inevitably inched closer to late middle age. Still, those were just mere distractions, and he was left immobilized between the precipice of confrontation and escape.
"Roland? What are you?... You couldn't have even given me a call after this many years?... I didn't know even know you were nearby, for god's sake."
He wasn't surprised at the response, the ever-shifting tone of his father just sounding scarily measured outside of the surprise he knew was probably inevitable. He wasn't sure how to respond without violating some sort of courtesy, or without feeling like he was appearing as unnecessarily harsh or even just an out and out asshole. He feared confrontation with his father, preferring instead to leave the relationship in a frozen purgatory without understanding that even such a move had its own fallout and consequences. He didn't want to confront a whole boatload of things, especially considering that they were all interconnected with a grief that they both did and did not share. The last thing he wanted was to mention his mother in front of him, so he sighed.
"I'm… with a friend. I didn't know I was going to be around the area until recently. I just wanted to grab some things to show him and then I'll leave. I don't wanna stay for long." He was torn between wanting to reconnect and wanting to leave this all behind. He owed his father something… even though he knew they did not leave on the best of terms before he tried to make it on his own. Still, a part of Roland feared that perhaps too many things had converged between them to make a reconciliation possible, especially since he knew that his desperate chase for music stardom was itself a point of contention that could spiral into so many other things.
Really, it was the whole deal behind wanting to be famous in the music industry that was the root cause of… what he didn't want to confront with his father. How the hell was he going to explain the story behind his mother to Smokescreen at this point?
"If you need to go that quickly I won't be in your way, but… it's been years, Roland. We need to talk, none of this ignoring my calls business."
Years from when they last saw each other always built perspective. Roland hadn't expected to be on the verge of being so easily swayed by his father, but he knew that he needed to take a chance on at least repairing the faintest hint of a bridge with the only blood family he knew he had. At the very least, he owed his father some sort of conversation that caught him up to what he was doing now, even if it would lead inevitably to the very same fights that caused them both to become distant with each other.
"I know, Dad. I know… I don't want to fight with you the same way we left each other when I moved. I… said some things, you said some things too. I just want to move on and I just want to get some things, cause my friend can't stay around for too long."
"I'd ask for a bigger explanation, but if you really can't stay for too long… come on in. I'm not looking for a fight either, if that's any comfort to you."
Going inside provided some form of comfort to Roland as his eyes stared at the familiar looking living room, memories of practicing music and singing along while his father tried to support his dreams played in his mind. Years ago, those dreams had a far more innocent bent. All he desired was to just sing, whether that be participating in a school choir or participating in more low-stakes competitions. There was a lack of any sign that he had trained himself professionally or even desired to compete at a higher-level, the living room just being filled with belongings that had passed through his family. Even then, those belongings were sparse and were more about just filling the house with what was needed. Reasonable looking TV, couches, some fine China, some papers and files strewn about a faraway desk that indicated his father's office work, but traces of singing, art… they were never much dominant in this house, but they had all faded away to time.
"I won't be for too long. I'm sorry that this visit was so short. Maybe one day…" It was wishful thinking stated out loud.
"I hope you aren't saying that for courtesy's sake. Years ago, I would have demanded that you speak to me, but it has been years. I have a life to get back and tend to and I have no doubt you have yours. Just… I just want to talk, really. I'm not gonna force it, but I'd prefer we have it sooner than later."
Roland understood the rationale for as much as he could, even though a larger part of him knew that trying to potentially reopen those wounds wouldn't be the wisest idea. He was hardly ready to talk about the prospect of his mother with Smokescreen, but how would his father take having to discuss the prospect of his career when Roland himself had the same aspirations as her? It was something he tried not to worry over, much as he would risk that discussion by even going up to his room and gathering some belongings that could help explain his side of the story to the rookie.
"I know… I don't know when, but hopefully soon. I should get going, I don't wanna keep my friend waiting."
"At least tell me who he is? Am I even going to meet him? And am I going to know why you suddenly left Chicago too? You were hell bent on going any place that wasn't Arizona years ago." There it was, the fight he heard in his father's voice. Sometimes, Roland could barely parse through if it was the usual intensity his father spoke with or if this was being influenced by the awkward way in which they parted years ago. Maybe a mix of both, the singer assumed.
"He's a friend I met in Chicago who wanted to do a road trip. I agreed… he wanted my help and I didn't really mind the change of pace. When we talk, I'll explain everything, okay Dad? Right now… I just really need to get some things and then he and I will get going. Maybe you might meet him."
"That… gives me more questions than answers, Roland. Alright, have it your way. Promise me you'll stay safe, at least?"
"I will, Dad. I… will."
"Good, you're still the only family I have left. I know we didn't… look, you're still my son at the end of the day. I still care."
"I know…"
"That's all I ask for, that you still know. Now, go on, you don't wanna be kept waiting, right?"
It was as much of a farewell that Roland could ask for without things getting unnecessarily awkward or drawn out, With a quick nod, the singer would saunter towards the stairwells that led to house's second story. Given the short distance, he did not have much time to wonder if the years that had transpired since he left Flagstaff would make his father want to change his room entirely, leaving him wonder if there was even a place for him to sleep if he decided to want to stay a night in his childhood room before setting off to California tomorrow morning.
To his surprise, opening the door to his old bedroom led him to discover that nothing really did change after all, at least on the surface. It was evident to see that his father maintained a sense of cleanliness in the sense that the bed was made instead of it being perpetually unkempt. There was an organization to what he left behind, that being old records, knick-knacks, CDs of artists like Celine Dion or any other balladeer from the 1990s, old legal documents that he didn't quite need, and the artifacts of an attempt to start a childhood singing career that appeared as a few medallions for singing competitions alongside participation trophies as proof that he did try. It was almost bittersweet to see how much he tried to push himself to some limited success at a young age, though he tried to force his mind to find the few memories of his mother that should still be around the room somewhere.
Bringing something like a preserved vinyl of the Wizard of Oz's soundtrack would lead to his father questioning things, so Roland began the search for his mother's old necklace as well as her old tape recorder. With some effort, alongside having to move some of the organized furniture (in some ways, the room had become unfamiliar to him given just how his father had his own particularities in wanting things arranged), he was able to find more than what he anticipated. His mother's old songwriting notebook, her necklace, and the tape recorder itself. Awful as it felt, he needed to put effort into making sure that his father did not see even a single proof that he was gathering his mother's old belongings.
Just seeing them was itself its own moment of reckoning, though he only held his grief at bay precisely because he needed these objects to explain a part of his life to Smokescreen that he had kept away from so many people.
Leaving the house was easier than he expected, Roland unable to fight the guilt that lay in his heart when he saw his father bid him a silent farewell. As glad as he was that there would be no confrontation about Joanne Morrow, neither was it any reassurance to Roland's conscious that there were still so many unresolved tensions between him and his father. Even though it was a largely amicable parting, the sorrow was still palpable as he closed the door and walked towards Smokescreen with a slow gait. He slowly ambled himself inside the Autobot's interior, taking a deep breath as he settled into the seat and tried to remember the address of the graveyard that his mother was buried in so long ago. It was almost a mercy that her remains were still in Flagstaff, knowing that them being in Los Angeles would be more of a horrifying prospect.
"Ro!... Ro?" He heard Smokescreen's voice through the deluge of his own thoughts. He looked up to see the dashboard of his Autobot companion lighting up, the synthesized tone of the rookie's voice putting him out of his reverie. "Ro, you okay? You looked out of it when you came in. Did it go well, or?..."
He knew there were a lot of questions buried in that one. Either way, the prospect of answering was a difficult one.
"Sorry, Smokescreen..." Roland shook his head to shake himself awake. "I… think it went well? It went better than I thought. My dad and I… I thought we were going to fight, we didn't. If anything…" He paused there, recounting the conversation he had with his father in his mind. "He… made a really good case about us needing to reconnect. So much shit has happened but he wanted to put it past him… and I want to put it past me and have us be father and son again. I just… don't know how."
The car hung in silence for a moment, leaving Roland wondering if he left Smokescreen in a state where he had no idea how to respond. He couldn't blame the Autobot, knowing that there was so much explanation necessary in the one that he just gave. He went so quickly in just dumping the information that there was still no context to what he was saying except for some vague details about his life.
"Ro, a lot of that sounds good. Really good, actually." Smokescreen began. "I… dunno much about you and your sire together, so I can't say much. But I guess if I gotta get sensitive for a moment… my spark says that maybe you and you sire should listen to each other like that. If he's willin' to put whatever slag that happened between you two, and you as well…" He could hear the Autobot's voice trail off, uncertainty teeming in the rookie's tone. "But… I get the feeling you're being hesitant about it at all, man. You don't gotta tell me if you don't want to, but… what's making you feel like you don't know how to talk to your sire?"
If the situation was not so heavy, Roland would have pointed out just how much Smokescreen had spoke all at once. This was perhaps the most he'd heard the Autobot speak and… neither was he wrong. As much as Roland's strange pride and fear wanted to avoid his own father, he knew that an honest conversation, and perhaps even confrontation with each other, needed to happen sooner than later. He hoped it would not be the case, but at the very least… one of the root causes he would discuss with Smokescreen soon enough.
"I… was gonna talk to you about that today. I had a place I wanted to take us to so we could talk about it. I…" The singer paused there, wondering how much he needed to say lest he risk revealing so much all at once. "I wanted to ask if you wanted to take us to my mom's grave. A lot of the shit between me and my Dad… it all comes back to her, and you deserve to hear that story, but only if you want to hear it."
"Ro… just tell me where you need to go. I'm willing to listen… for as long as ya need."
As much as he wished he memorized the route to his mother's grave by heart now, the thought of that sounded far too morbid for him to truly take it seriously. He memorized the address by heart, directing Smokescreen to the graveyard by phone. The distance from the old Morrow house to where Joanne was buried wasn't too far, a matter of 20 minutes before Roland began to recognize the familiar street layout and the modest looking architecture of the funeral home that was attached to the graveyard. Sorrow latched onto his heart once more, the familiar feeling of the melancholy he felt over a mother he never knew being the only mental preparation he had. It was to his and Smokescreen's fortune that there didn't seem to be any visible presence in a graveyard that seemed so far away from civilization, even though they were hardly that far from the city. Granted, Flagstaff was far from being the metropolis that was Phoenix.
The process of Smokescreen transforming, and having to move Roland's belongings through the space, was a very awkward affair. It was the only moment of levity that Roland felt he could spare as he tried to make sure that none of Smokescreen's metallic feet would end up making unfortunate mincemeat of graves worn to age and time. Thankfully, the rookie seemed light and agile enough of his feet to make sure that the graves were left untouched, and it wouldn't have been long until Roland led them both to the grave of Joanne Morrow.
Where do you begin?
Roland sat himself near the grave of his mother, giving the headstone a gentle touch as he knew that his expression was probably twisted to some unmistakable sorrow. He struggled to articulate how to begin explaining this all to Smokescreen, especially where her story would begin and end. There has to be a way to be able to compact this all into something explainable, right? The reality of it all was that this was the first time he remembered actually trying to tackle the story of his mother in front of someone who he was slowly but surely beginning to trust as a friend.
Roland hated vulnerability, of baring something about himself and his own past.
"My mother's name is Joanne Morrow. That's where I got my… last name from. She was a singer just like me." Roland began, hearing the rookie shift closer. He turned around to see Smokescreen's faceplates bearing a comforting expression. "She wanted to have a career too. From what I heard, my mother would always say that people liked how she sounded but never how she looked. She struggled for a while to find someone that was willing to take a chance on her as not just a singer, but… as a star."
He paused there, trying to gather the details of his mother's story and summoning them to the forefront of his mind. What made it so difficult to articulate was that this was a story he never witnessed with his own eyes, the tale of his mother's star-crossed love and her blinding career only being things he heard from his father and from what little information he could corroborate in his brief forays into researching his mother's career. Joanne Morrow, for as famous as she did become, would toil in obscurity later in her life, which made information about her hard to come by.
"She… met someone who would help her become a star. Not my Dad, that's another story. Like in that movie… she met her John, some legendary country rock singer named Raymond that was falling out of fashion around the time she wanted to get into the music industry. They found each other in some dive bar and… they started to make some instant connection. What was first awkwardness ended up being a romance where my mother's love heard her voice for the first time. They became Raymond and Joanne… and Raymond would do all he can to help start her career, having her sing at his concerts."
What stopped him from continuing for a moment was the unmistakable look of sorrow in Smokescreen's face. Roland could only assume that the rookie had connected the dots between the movie and what had transpired in his mother's life. The singer could only look down on Joanne's grave, sighing as he gently cradled the worn headstone.
"My mom… became a sensation like Esther. My dad would always say that she had the most beautiful voice he'd ever heard, even if he wanted her to escape the music industry because of what it was doing to her and especially to what it did to Raymond. My mom at her most popular was… there were labels fighting for her, wanting to release her first album when Raymond was doing all he can to help further her career the more she sang. He… you can probably guess. People saw him as outdated, a relic of his time that nobody except old folks wanted to listen to. It caused a wedge between my mom and him, no matter how much they loved each other. Raymond… was destroying himself in alcoholism. My dad… has choice words about him.
"But… the love between my mom and Raymond… I heard that it was almost legendary even, but it wasn't enough to save Raymond from destroying himself when his career was on the decline. He… like John in the movie we watched together, he took his own life when his career just… died before his very eyes. My mom didn't take the loss well, but she took it differently than Esther did. She… from what my dad says, she never had some rousing ballad even if she loved that Barbra Streisand song. She thought she'd never fall in love again.
"My mom's career was… it ended not long after it began in a way. She was a sensation that everybody remembered for a time, but the death of her love hit her hard, and in a lot of ways when she began a relationship with my dad… it just wasn't the same for her. Even though they stayed with each other long enough to have me. She died a year after I was born, the same way that Raymond did… when she settled down to have a family, she was having more time to spend with my dad because her career wasn't taking off long-term in the way she wanted to. She… paid the price for that.
"From, what my dad said to me… she took her own life when her record label said that they were cutting her off. Music was her life, my dad would always say. To… not be able to do it for a living, to not be able to have a chance to support us in the way that she wanted to. She struggled to reconcile what happened with her love, and… seeing the same thing happen to her. My dad said that… she just took her life like that, never leaving behind an explanation or a note. The only thing that was left was just… the news and the timing of it all. I was… only one year old when that happened. And… that's the story of my mother, Joanne. The story that I know, at least…"
How much did he just tell? He wasn't sure if he did justice to a story he had only ever been told very few times in his life. Memories of his constant questioning of who his mother was and why his father would never say anything outwardly flowed through his mind as Roland looked away from Smokescreen to gaze into the grave of Joanne Morrow herself. A heaviness sat in his chest as the trance of recounting her story, and wishing to do her memory justice, finally faded from his mind. Even though he never really knew his mom, there was a grief that lay in his heart that he himself failed to reconcile and even think through his entire life. All he had ever known when he talked about Joanne was that his mother was a topic that should never really be addressed at all. To push his father to talking about her was both a mission and now something that he never really wants to do again. If his own grief felt like coals that burned his heart, he could not imagine the pain that his dad went through all those years ago.
In a way, telling her story as it is from his own perspective was productive in its own strange way. He hoped he would never have to tell this story ever again, even though there was something freeing about being able to finally grieve for a mother he never knew. Silence filled the space between him and Smokescreen. The Autobot haunted his mind now that he invoked his name internally, Roland afraid that he may have just spoken too much or left the young Autobot too speechless to respond. In a lot of ways, Roland appreciated the quietude however, not wanting the quiet tears that flowed down his face to be vocalized. His hands grasped the headstone, the singer just now aware that he was actually crying. He grasped for his eyes, not even wanting to wipe away the tears.
He knew he was losing it, feeling his chest proverbially beginning to give out. Any sense of mental strength that he had while retelling his mother's tale was crumbling in a speed that Roland wasn't ready with. He thought he was 'over' his mother's death in a sense, especially since he had never really known her. Yet, the more his father hesitantly gave him the information, and the more he found online and from what he'd overhear of family friends talking about the enigma that was Joanne… the more he realized that he and his mother were far closer together than he had ever thought. Whispers were spoken about how he was almost the spitting image of her, especially when Roland began to develop a predilection for singing and the arts at such a young age. He wasn't even ready to face those comparisons nor their implications. Deep inside, he knew why he was crumbling so easily, beginning to finally grieve after years of leaving his mother's memory as simply but a footnote to his life.
This was a reckoning he was not ready with.
He knew constantly weeping in front of Smokescreen was far from a good look, but he knew his emotions at the best of times were difficult to control. This was a circumstance where trying to resist was an impossible task. He felt his emotions, and consequently his body, begin to give out. He rested his head above the headstone in an attempt to find some sort of catharsis, silently sobbing against the cold and rough stone. Through the emotions, he could feel one of Smokescreen's digits gently rub his shoulder as he wept against the headstone.
Time began to blur when he finally faced a grief and a love of his mother from afar. In a lot of ways, he knew that love was based off something that may not have even be rooted in reality. He loved the story of his mother and what she could've been in his life. It was also no accident that there was a kinship between their shared love of singing, even though that was something that could never be fostered between them in this life. Perhaps he was just reading too much into how similar he was to her. Maybe whatever relationship between them that could've happened would've been a distant one.
Still, what hurt was that he never had a chance to truly say goodbye. If only he could have one more night to at least let it be known that there was something, even though he was only inviting more pain by leaning into the yearning. He wasn't sure if letting out these emotions was even healthy, feeling a profound emptiness when his body finally calmed to sniffles and exhaustion after what felt like an eternity of letting out every single sob. He heaved against the headstone, peeling himself away from the grave with Smokescreen's aid. He was… too ashamed to look at the Autobot directly, feeling like he may have just done some entire disservice to the human race with this unexpected display of emotion. He was grieving over someone he barely knew… he was frightened to think about how this would've appeared to a veteran, to someone who had lost more than he had.
"Ro… ah frag it. Roland. Look at me."
Roland slowly turned his face to see Smokescreen's sympathetic expression, though it was hard to read the way the Autobot's faceplates were contorted. The way the Autobot spoke was able to pierce through the thoughts that swarmed Roland's mind, breaking through the fear the singer had. The shame still lingered in the human's heart, wishing that he wasn't the mess that he was in front of someone who was not even from this planet. He knew that Smokescreen deserved so much better, someone so much stronger… someone that wasn't him. There was a gentle firmness to Smokescreen's tone at least, something that allowed Roland's mind to hold on to some thread of hope.
"Roland… I…" Smokescreen was at an obvious loss of words, his optics toiling with emotion. "I wasn't… expecting all of that, y'know? I… think I understand more about you now, though. Me going on about you ain't the important part, though… I've never had someone be that vulnerable with me in vorns, Roland…
"I wish I could help take away the pain. I know you didn't know her, Ro. But… it doesn't make it any hurt any less. I haven't lost someone the way you have, but don't feel like ya gotta hide when things get intense. I wanna be there for you, and… this is how. I don't have to fight 'Cons to support you… and I know things aren't okay right now. I'll be there for ya, for as long as you need. I want you to know that… it's okay to feel what you feel. The fact that ya trust me enough to tell me the story of your creator is…
"Roland, after we watched that movie and you didn't sleep so well, I made a vow when you requested that song…" Roland could hear Smokescreen pause there. It was only there that the singer realized that he was so enrapt with every word that the Autobot spoke that he wasn't even breathing for a moment. "Everything in my code says to protect people like ya, Ro. But… it's gotten to be more than that. It's been more than just upholding a vow cause I'm an Autobot… it's a vow to specifically you, I'm realizing now."
"Why… why me?..." Was the first thing to slip out of Roland's mouth in response, unable to help both the amazement and his mind's fast tackling of the implications of what Smokescreen was saying. "I'm just… one human… a singer for crying out loud… I'm not worth… I'm just…" He hadn't even the heart to even articulate a full-on sentence, his voice straining to a sob again. He could see Smokescreen's face contort to a saddened smile before he could feel another digit stroke his heaving shoulders. He leaned into the touch, his hands grasping for the feeling of Cybertronian metal.
"There's just some things I try not to question, Ro… I don't know what it is, but around ya, from the bond we've developed recently… My spark says I just gotta be there for you and protect you in whatever way I can. And when it comes to our sparks… that's something I don't wanna question. To me, you are worth it, and I know that sounds ridiculous as slag to say. Remember Ro… I wanted you to come with me in this whole road trip thing, and none of that has changed. Think of it this way, Ro… s'long as I'm here, you don't have to worry about feeling alone or feeling like you can't trust anyone. I… ugh, Primus, I normally don't get this sappy. But I… promise you, from my spark, that there'll be someone there for ya."
Roland clutched one of the mementos he had of his mother, the necklace that his dad passed down to him as one of the few belongings that Joanne still had that held any significance for her. A heaviness sat through his heart when he contemplated the Autobot's words, not sure if he was truly garnering the significance of them. However, there was a sentiment he recognized in the words, which was a sentiment itself he yearned for in a life where things felt so isolating and sometimes even bewildering. It was the sense of not wanting to be fully alone in a world, especially an industry, where things would be so unforgiving. As much as he chased the same dream that his mother had so long ago… how could he do it when there would be no one by his side?
As selfish as it was to lean in on the companionship that Smokescreen was more than happy to offer, all Roland could do was nod as he tried to steady his breathing. Maybe soon, he would think through what Smokescreen was saying to him. Yet, all he wanted was to savor the moment, to finally make sense of this cathartic release and to feel the relief that someone would be there for him. The fact that Smokescreen, someone who for all intents and purposes could easily ditch him and be with his comrades in a matter of mere hours now, was willing to stay with him in this manner was… that thought was enough to nearly move him to tears again, but he kept the emotions at bay.
Many things led Roland's life astray up to this point, but he could not deny the strokes of immense fortune that sometimes graced his way.
He didn't want to leave Smokescreen stewing in perpetual silence. He remembered the objects he brought, realizing now that he hadn't even so much as used them to really explain his mother's story. He never really needed him in a way, but having them with him in a way jogged memories of Joanne that he hadn't really thought about in so many years. Even though their original purpose was now lost, he knew now how to respond to Smokescreen's vow. Given the already immense vulnerability being shown just today, Roland knew that there was no reason not to trust the Autobot with a particular song from his childhood… one of the few songs that tied him and his mother together even when death had long separated them.
"Smokescreen…" He could see the Autobot's helm look down towards him, waiting for his word. "I… I wish I had words, but… my mind's too gone to say a lot. But… I have a song I want to sing to you, in response to everything you said."
"Go for it, Ro. What… did you have in mind?"
Roland couldn't help but give a trembling smile as he reached for his pockets, taking out the worn tape recorder that was so much more primitive than even his phone. He placed the old device in his hands, hoping that there was still some sort of tape within that could record his voice. He took out his phone after, quickly trudging through some music files for a particular song that would always comfort him when his thoughts would stray into dangerous territory. In times when he often reckoned with cold feet and or intense self-doubt about his foray into music… this often centered him, calming his mind somehow.
"This… is a tape recorder that my mom once had. She… would record songs in this back in the day, before we invented… a lot of other things. I still hold onto it because it's one of the few things I have of her in that old house. There's… a song that we both loved. My dad said that she would often sing this song to warm up and it's also the same song that would often get me to sleep when I was a baby.
"I… don't really sing this song that often. I never… considered it for competition or anything. But… it means a lot to me, because it's… sometimes I get too in my head about what this whole being a star thing means, but… this song reassures me it's going to be okay. It's called Over the Rainbow…"
Roland cleared his throat as he prepared the song via his phone, letting the silence fill the air between them as he prepared the lyrics in his mind. It'd been years since he last sang the song in front of anyone, often letting this be a track he would just sing under his breath but never mention to another soul. The song's reputation itself also didn't help as well, having been painted as some overly sentimental dirge or a glop of a song that was quaint but not worthy of any serious musical merit. Its tendency to appear in talent show songs performed by singers like himself also did not help. Still, he loved the song despite what others' judgments may have proffered. He hoped that Smokescreen would… understand the message.
He knows he could not be the kind of comrade that Smokescreen needs. Still, he held a hope that he could help the Autobot in his own, idiosyncratic way. He didn't want the Autobot feel alone, even through the thicket of battle. He could not be there for him as a fellow battle-hardened warrior… but he hoped that whatever he would sing, Smokescreen would remember it.
"Smokescreen… whatever happens to us, whatever future we face, just… I just want to say one thing." Roland stared into the Autobot's face directly, silently pleading for him to listen to every single word. "Always remember us this way."
Before the rookie even so much as had a chance to respond, Roland would immediately reach for his phone. He turned the speakers up as high as they could go and began the track, faintly hearing the faint acoustic track of the aforementioned song. Soft guitar plucks began to coalesce into the familiar melodical line of "Over the Rainbow," chords being played rather quickly before slowing down to a proverbial crawl. His eyes closed as the lyrics began to slowly trawl through his mind, thoughts of his mother and Smokescreen emotionally guiding him through what the song was making him feel. He took a breath when there was a brief lull in the instrumentation, knowing what it represented for so many songs.
Thus, he began to sing.
