A/N: Well, here is part two. I'm trying to keep it within my three part limit, let's see if I'm successful Thank you so much to everyone for your reviews, they make my day.
Part Two
There, on the wall about 15 feet above his berth, were the same scratches and dents that he left when his cannon hit it.
Sideswipe stared at the scratches, not able to believe what he was seeing. It was impossible; how could he have made those dents all the way up there? Standing, the red warrior was clearly able to inspect the alien marks, and he knew without a doubt they were the same.
But wait… he didn't remember there even being dents next to his berth after he hit his head.
The red Lambo raced to his desk drawers, feeling something inside him urge him on. A larger, more logical part just told him to leave it be, but he could not rest until he knew for sure. It was a natural thing for him to do, once he was stuck on a problem or concept, he was unable to let it go until he was satisfied with it.
Finally he found what he was looking for. To celebrate a quick recovery for Jazz who had gotten a nasty wound not long after Sideswipe nearly got blown in half by Scourge, they'd held a party in the Lambo's quarters as it was one of the largest of the soldiers' quarters.
There was a picture taken of he, Jazz, and Bluestreak on his berth. Refocusing his internal power so that his optical sensors became more sensitive, Sideswipe was able to take a closer look. Sure enough, there were few if any scuffmarks where there should be hundreds, and a huge amount just about their heads. Why hadn't he ever noticed before?
"What in the Matrix…" It was as though he'd been floating in mid-air for the first few years of his stationing here.
There was one more thing he needed to see to confirm his theory.
And there they were.
Little holes on the corners of his berth. Not found among normal recharge berths, but a standard part of any bunk set. From the looks of them, the holes were home-made and done a long time ago. He sat up straighter on his berth, staring at the holes with a startling realization.
He hadn't been sleeping on mid-air to create those scuff-marks.
Sideswipe had been on top of a bunk bed for the majority of his assignment.
Fueled by this discovery, he continued scouring his room, eager to find any clue to explain this phenomena that he couldn't remember happening.
OoOoOo
The sharp pounding at the door would not go away no matter how hard Mirage tried to ignore it. Rolling over with an annoyed groan, he stumbled to the door. He was off for another three megacycles at least and by the Pit whoever was trying to break his door down had better have a slagging good reason for waking him up.
No sooner had he unlocked the door than a large mass of black and red burst its way in. Sideswipe looked as disheveled as he'd ever seen him.
"Sides, what's wrong?" the spy asked growing concerned. Since his brother was erased, Sideswipe seemed to strengthen his other friendships, Mirage among them. If something was wrong, the young officer would be the first to hear it.
"Mirage," Sideswipe finally stopped and turned to look at him. His optics were bright with confusion and pain. "I think I'm going crazy. I can't…"
"What is it?" he braced himself as he always did for the explosion that was long due. It was a secret that should never have been kept, and it would unravel one day. Was this that day?
"Who's Sunstreaker?"
OoOoOo
Ah, at last the entire room was spotless. First Aid surveyed the now pristine med-bay with satisfaction. For at least a few cycles, it could give the illusion of peace and quiet. Primus knew that by the time tomorrow had come and gone, there would be new injured on those empty tables. New messes to clean up. New gore to haunt him.
"First Aid?"
But until then, he could pretend that he was just a normal resident medic instead of a military unit's Chief Medical Officer.
He turned around to see his brother and immediate superior walk in through the door. Hotspot smiled easily, a relaxed flow in his gait. The few days of leave had done him a world of good, First Aid could see. He was glad to have recommended the little vacation to Rodimus basing it on a medic's worry for a top commander. "Hey, First Aid," the Protectobot commander greeted.
"Hotspot," the medic smiled, pleased that such an expression could come so easily this time. He would have to do something nice for Bluestreak in the near future.
"Was on my way back from the lounge and I thought I'd come see if you weren't too busy to walk to quarters with me."
"Actually I was just finishing up," he admitted. "Just let me lock up my office first and I'll be right with you."
Cliffjumper was still in deep recharge when he checked on him, thus ensuring at least one quiet night. First Aid shut off the lights in his office, and locked the door. Setting the lights in the main med-bay to dim, he rejoined his waiting brother by the exit.
"How was everything today?" Hotspot asked lightly as they walked together. Normally he wouldn't ask since First Aid's job had become significantly more difficult as of late. Between worsening battles and the intense distrust of others, the Protectobot commander was surprised his brother was holding up so well. But today there appeared to be less weight upon the medic's shoulders and there was a light bounce in his step. Something good must have happened to bring it about.
"Fine," First Aid replied. "Cliffjumper should be out by tomorrow. There wasn't anything major today so I got to catch up on my inventory."
"Good. Prime thinks that we might have to head back down to southern California."
"Again?" First Aid looked incredulous. "That'll be the third time this month, won't it?"
"I know," his brother and superior nodded, face solemn. "They've been having real problems with the earthquakes lately. It's good we have the time to go down and help with the relief efforts."
The CMO nodded. "It'll feel nice helping people rebuild for a change. It's what we were made for, but lately…"
Hotspot knew what he meant. The Protectobots were supposed to protect life, not end it. They were never supposed to be warriors, only defenders. Yet time and time again, one or more of the brothers would find themselves charging into combat right alongside the real soldiers. And ever since First Aid had chosen to become an outcast of the unit, there had seemed to be less need for him to leave the med-bay. Rodimus let him stay as the CMO and everything that that duty entailed. He even forbade anyone to try to reverse the procedure's effects on Sideswipe. But for now at least, the Prime chose to keep a close optic on First Aid.
Defensor was missed in the regular ranks, but not many claimed that he was missed that much.
As hard as it was on First Aid during the aftermath of his operation on Sideswipe, it was sometimes even harder on his four brothers. On Hotspot especially. For the longest time he was always berated savagely by the troops. Why couldn't he keep a closer watch on his own brother? How could he allow such a thing? How could he possibly defend such a being? Could he prevent the same from happening to them? Were the other Protectobots just as unstable? What had First Aid really done to Sideswipe?
The Protectobot Commander loved his brother. Nothing First Aid could do or say would ever change that. True they may be on opposite sides on certain things. Hotspot may even hate what his brother had done. But he could never stop loving him; it was just the way it worked. As such, he would do nothing less than accept him with open arms. Groove, Streetwise, and Blades had done the same, protecting their weakest from the others' attacks unconditionally.
Not to say that things hadn't been strained within the Protectobot ranks for a good long time. As much as the four loved First Aid, they were frightened of what he had done. Never had the quiet pacifist even mentioned something like this in passing. What had possessed him to do something that was so damaging? For they believed that it was indeed damaging. No good could come from Sideswipe forgetting his twin. The five of them were siblings; they understood and sympathized with the red warrior's pain. But they would all rather be deactivated than have it so their family never existed in their minds.
What if, someday, one of the Protectobots died? Would First Aid do the same procedure to them? Would they even have a choice?
Hotspot pushed these unpleasant matters away from his exhausted processor. He was starting to sound like some of the paranoid bots on base who were convinced that First Aid was brainwashing his own zombie army. Anyone who cared to notice could see just what this had cost the medic who had nothing but the best of intentions. No, this was one operation his brother would be staying far far away from for a good few millennia.
"Well well, look who it is," Blades greeted from his seat on the couch. The Protectobots each had their own quarters, but since Hotspot was the group's leader and had the largest room, they had turned half of it into a sort of private lounge. Not that Hotspot had much of a say in the matter, of course. On-duty he was their commanding officer. Off-duty he was just another brother. It was a role he both cherished and resented as it meant that if all the others wanted to redecorate half his living space, he would have to bow to their wishes.
He hadn't complained much in their defense. They may have separate quarters, but they still enjoyed their time together. Especially since they so rarely saw each other these days. The Lambo twins had been able to share quarters, but it would be impossible for the five brothers to do the same.
"If it isn't Dr. Jekyll himself emerging from his secret lab," Streetwise picked up where the flyer had left off. Another perk of being First Aid's brother was that one could tease him about possible sensitive subjects and expect only a glare in retaliation.
"Naturally," First Aid took the harmless jibe in stride and nodded his head to the bemused Hotspot. "And my partner in crime, Mr. Hyde." Hotspot grinned and patted his brother on the shoulder before heading to his desk in the hopes of getting some work done over the din of King of Queens and four brothers.
Groove smiled happily. "Had a good day today, man?" he asked.
"As well as could be expected," the CMO walked over to sit on the couch next to Blades. "Cliffjumper was the only one to come in for actual repairs and it took me half a megacycle at the most."
"Uh-oh," Blades shook his head. "Is he gonna wake up tomorrow clucking like a chicken?"
"Blades…" Hotspot gave a warning glare to his most rambunctious Protectobot. Blades never really did learn the difference between gentle teasing and hitting a bit below the belt.
However First Aid waved off the comment. "I was going to give him your vocal waves, but I think I've heard enough whining around the base without adding another one of you."
Streetwise and Groove chuckled at Blades' indignant, open mouthed expression. Even Hotspot hid a grin behind his datapad. Whatever had happened to put First Aid into such a good mood, he hoped it kept up. He'd missed having his gentle and joyful brother and wanted him back.
First Aid's optics glittered with mirth when Blades was unable to come up with a proper retort. Yes, he may still be one of the most infamous Autobots come tomorrow, but here nothing could touch him. Not the others' scorn and not the mistakes of the past.
OoOoOo
Mirage was sure for a moment that his spark stopped pulsating altogether. Of all the questions and accusations and threats he expected, never did he imagine this simple honest one. Sideswipe still had no idea what he'd lost, but this was dancing dangerously close to the point of no return.
"A soldier who died a while back," he said in as light a tone as he could manage. "Why?"
"Why didn't anyone slagging tell me I slept on a bunk? I mean, I shared a room with this guy. Didn't anyone think it was weird that I just suddenly forgot this guy?" He broke his gaze with Mirage and walked in a bit of a circle, his usual pacing track when he was nervous or upset. "Dammit! Why can't I remember? It's this slagging head injury!"
Somewhere along the way, Sideswipe had invented a head injury to excuse his faulty memory concerning certain events. No one corrected him as it made their jobs that much easier. Occasionally he would get frustrated, but for the most part he just went with the flow as he did all things.
"Can you tell me about him?" Sideswipe asked. "Maybe you can job my memory or something. I had to be buddies with this guy, right?" He looked at his friend hopefully.
Now that was the million credit question, wasn't it?
"There isn't much to tell," Mirage replied, trying to recover from his shell-shock. "He was as vain as Tracks, but much crankier. A complete sociopath with enough arsenal to back up anything he said. There weren't many of us who liked him."
Sideswipe snorted. "And I roomed with this guy?"
"Yes, well, you were one of the ones he didn't mind having around."
"Sounds like a real asshole," he shook his head.
"To put it crudely, yes he was." Mirage paused. "Are you sure you don't remember him at all?"
"Would I be asking if I did?" the warrior sighed. "I'm gonna go talk to First Aid about this damn head thing. I'm sick of being screwed up." He wasn't sure why few of the others ever went to the kind Protectobot for help and he didn't care to listen to the rumors. First Aid never let him down before.
The last thing the poor medic needed was Sideswipe asking uncomfortable questions. Mirage had seen what one supposed act of mercy had cost First Aid. And he knew what sort of cost Sideswipe would further exact if he ever knew the truth. Right now, the spy doubted First Aid had the willpower to lie about the procedure. The act was weighing heavily upon him, more so now than ever.
"Why is this so important to you?" Mirage asked.
"Why?" Sideswipe stared at him like he had a few bolts loose. "Cause I'm fragging sick of not remembering stuff, that's why."
"But what would remembering Sunstreaker do for you?" Besides destroy you. "He's dead. It won't bring him back to remember exactly how he'd slag you if you scratched his paint job."
Considering this, Sideswipe looked sad and unsure of himself. He used to never be like this, even after his twin had died. "Yeah I know, but Primus… the poor slagger. No one ever talks about him; it's like he never existed. At least people still talk about Prowl and Ratchet and the others. Even an asshole like Sunny deserves to be remembered."
Sideswipe probably had no idea just how surreal this conversation was getting.
"Maybe it's for the best. By the way, if you can't remember him, how did you…"
"After I figured out that I had a roomie, I went into the archives to see who used to sleep where."
Ah of course; they could erase Sideswipe's memory and even all physical evidence of Sunstreaker's existence, but the one thing no one could tamper with was official records. It was only sheer providence that more hadn't been revealed during Sideswipe's little file sweep.
"Y'know, maybe you're right," Sideswipe said at last. "After everything that's been going on, maybe it's for the best. I don't know. It just seems wrong to let somebody be forgotten like that."
A sick feeling settled itself in Mirage's core. It was just as he told First Aid the day the deed was done. This wasn't any Sideswipe they knew; this one was unsure of himself and confused and weaker than he'd ever been. Yet one thing endured and it was this thing that scared him the most. Perhaps a slip, perhaps not. But whether or not Sideswipe meant to refer to his brother as 'Sunny,' the fact remained that he said it all the same.
"Do what you want, Sides," he said, knowing he had won. "It's just that you've always accepted your head injury and its problems before."
"Yeah, well, I never forgot a whole person before. Or at least… I didn't think I did." Even though he still argued against leaving it be, Mirage could see that he had caved for the time being. It was what the Intelligence officer had wanted, yet he felt no satisfaction in it. He hated that Sideswipe gave in to him so easily. He hated how unsure of himself the warrior was. He hated this new Sideswipe who was no more the real one than the twisted angry soul First Aid thought he'd saved.
"Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow," the Lambo said. "Thanks for your help."
"Anytime," Mirage managed to offer a small smile as his friend departed.
For a moment he debated going to First Aid to warn him about Sideswipe. If he knew about Sunstreaker, it would be all too easy for the final piece of the puzzle to fall in. This Sides may not be their Sides, but if he felt slighted, he would show no mercy nor forgiveness. First Aid had to be ready for that eventuality.
For now though, Sideswipe seemed content to let it go, and hopefully would be too busy with the war and pranks to look into it any further. For him the mystery was solved. It would be wrong of the spy to worry the young medic further when there was no immediate need. The poor CMO had enough to deal with without this too.
OoOoOo
It wasn't easy to break into the old holovid cases. While most of them were just home-made videos done by the troops for fun, many of them contained possible delicate material. They couldn't make it easy for these things to be stolen by the Decepticons. He also didn't exactly have the proper clearance for snooping around in old archives without permission.
Yet break in he did. After all, he was Sideswipe.
Ignoring any of the official archives, the red Lambo headed straight for the home-spun movies. If there was anything incriminating anywhere, it would be here.
Originally the plan was for him to find some embarrassing moments of the guys around the base and playing it via general feed on all the monitors. Yet after his conversation with Mirage, he realized the importance of remembering those long gone. Therefore, he changed his plan slightly. Now all he was after were the lost memories of the dead.
Surely there had to be some tapes of Ratchet or Wheeljack or Prowl even doing something embarrassing or funny. Some act worthy of blackmail that would allow those who missed them still to laugh as they remembered t hose who were gone.
Perhaps there might even be a tape of this Sunstreaker character. Anything that might jog his memory.
He sifted through the old tapes, amazed that so many had survived all that had happened to them by both war and time. At the bottom of the pile was a tape made by him a few days before the initial launch of the Ark. This thing was millions of years old…
Jackpot. If there was anything incriminating, it would be on this tape as he would have been at every farewell party there was.
Grabbing that one as well as a few others, Sideswipe left the room and headed to his quarters for a little late-night movie madness.
OoOoOo
He yawned loudly as he set the movie aside. Most of the tapes had some good things on them, and it felt good to see them again and remember. It seemed he'd forgotten more than he thought.
Now and then, a tape would show a glimpse of a tall handsome warrior, golden and proud. While the brief glimpses he got backed up Mirage's story of Sunstreaker being vain, the warrior was actually rather camera-shy. Or, at least, whenever the camera-mech tried to corner him, Sunstreaker would sneer and leave.
Once Sideswipe was sure that the yellow Lamborghini really was this mythical Sunstreaker, he started looking for him more and more as the tapes went on. He truly did appear to be the most unpleasant creature on the base. Yet he seemed to remind Sideswipe of something. Not like his fragged up head was giving back lost memories. But of something else. His manners and even his appearance seemed like he had seen them somewhere else.
He couldn't help but smile as Hound, the current filmer, focused in on Sunstreaker's sour face. What must it look like when he smiled?
"Hey, Sunny!" the little tracker greeted happily.
The yellow warrior turned from where he'd been walking. Seeing the camera his scowl only deepened. "Frag off," he likewise greeted.
"Oh don't be like that," Hound laughed, showing no fear. "Give us a smile!"
"I think not." He turned and started to walk away. "Go bother someone else."
"Well where's your better half?"
"Sideswipe? Who knows, he's not my responsibility."
Better half? Were they really such good friends? First Aid would definitely be getting a visit from him later. There had to be something the medic could do for him.
The tape ended soon after Sunstreaker made good his escape.
Sideswipe reached for the last tape left. His own from before the launch. It happened such a long time ago that he wasn't surprised he didn't remember making it.
As it began, he began instantly glad that he'd grabbed. The senior cadre had thrown a huge party for the crew the night before, and nearly everyone had attended. Jazz and Prowl were chatting, each with a mug of energon. Sideswipe realized suddenly that it had never occurred to him just how much more often Prowl smiled back then.
Everyone, in fact, seemed so relaxed. So happy and optimistic about their mission and the war in general. So many smiling faces that had no idea what awaited them.
Bluestreak was seated on a couch near Sideswipe who was filming the scene. From the looks of the gunner, who was only a little bit younger than him, it couldn't have been long since his enlistment. Few if any knew little Blue's story, and certainly not Sideswipe. But it was probably something big. All he knew was that one day during the last half of his combat training, a little gunner showed up from nowhere, scared and jittery. His plating looked brand new and there had been rumors that his entire body had just been reconstructed from scratch. The gunner looked nervous to be around so many strangers, but nonetheless glad for the company.
Nearly everyone there Sideswipe knew, though he certainly didn't at the time.
The camera switched on to a different scene, showing none other than Sunstreaker in front of the camera. Had they met at the party?
With a few cubes of energon clearly flowing in his system, there was very little unpleasantness to be found in the yellow bot. In fact he looked rather… calm.
"What a party, eh Sunny?" his own voice came from behind the camera.
Sunstreaker shrugged and relaxed against a recharge berth in a strange room.
"Bunch of civis," the yellow bot snorted. "No wonder they offered us so much."
"Ah, there's my Sunny," chuckled Sideswipe. "Always thinking with his spark of gold."
The camera swooped throughout the room and Sideswipe suddenly recognized it as his own back on Cybertron. But it seemed… different somehow. "So this is goodbye, home sweet home," the Sideswipe on camera lamented. "See you in half a million. Or whenever we find our energon and win the war."
"Whichever comes first," finished Sunstreaker, looking too comfortable in this place to be a newly-met friend.
"What do you think you'll miss the most, Sunny?" Sideswipe asked, returning the camera's focus to his friend. "About Cybertron I mean."
"You mean like all the cute femmes?" Sunstreaker smirked roguishly.
"Nah, cute femmes come and go. Isn't there anything else you'll miss about home?"
"Are you kidding, Sides? Do you know how long we've been waiting for an assignment like this?"
"Our whole lives, I know. But there has to be something. A favorite bar? The way the suns dip over the horizon at night? The fragging traffic at mid-day? Anything?"
Sunstreaker fixed the camera, him, with a serious and sober look. "All that's just slag. Nothing I'll miss that I can't take with me."
"Aw that's sweet, bro," Sideswipe teased, breaking any seriousness in the situation.
Bro?
Sunstreaker snorted again. "You think I meant you? Hell no, I'm talking about that stash of paint I have tucked away. Can't go saving the universe looking like some junk heap."
"Once again, my dear Sunstreaker, your kind thoughtful soul leaves me astounded. As golden on the inside as the outside? Whatever did Pinch save for me?"
Pinch… Triggerpinch. Oh yes, his Creator. How could he have forgotten that rusted old slagger?
"Well he let you get sparked with me, didn't he? That's honor enough."
The Sideswipe holding the camera laughed in good humor and the screen went black.
OoOoOo
"Hey, Magnus," Jazz went up to the Autobot Vice Commander.
"Good morning, Jazz," Ultra Magnus greeted from his seat at a monitor. He saw the puzzled expression on the Special Ops officer's face and frowned. "What's on your mind?"
"It's Sideswipe."
Mirage perked up slightly from his position just a few feet away, yet he made no other indication that he'd heard.
"He didn't show up for duty this morning so I thought he just slept in. When I went to wake th' sleepyhead up, his door was locked and I can't override his lock. An'… he won't answer his comm."
End Part Two
A/N: I'm not sure I'm completely happy with this chapter, but I'm not sure what else to do with it. Any thoughts would be great be they good or bad. In the next, hopefully last, part, the slag hits the fan as Sideswipe learns about the operation. In other news, I just had my first class in traditional Chinese painting. That stuff is harder than it looks, lemme tell you! The fourth chapter to 'Mr. Nice Guy' is going well and should be up sometime on Friday. Just need to finish the last little bit and run through it again. Um… that's about it for news on my side of the world…
Reviews!
DesertCat87: Hey hey! I got your comment on Dev. Art and I definitely will keep an eye out for you on AIM. Since you're an Arizona-ite (I'm from there!) you are probably about 14 or 15 hours behind me, so it'll be hard to catch each other. But I would love to talk with you Hm, I disagree on Ratchet and you'll see why in the next part. I don't think he would have done the same as First Aid.
That Crazy Halo Girl: Yeah, those poor guys. Just wait till Sides finds out why he can't remember anything, yikes! Thank you and yes my stay in China has been awesome! I'll have some dumplings for ya!
Blowout2: Aw don't go insane! Well, I hope this helps.
TruebornChaos: those were my exact words. The thing is, we had to climb a million steps up this mountain with the wall up at the tippity top. I saw some stone… thing blocking my path and made that comment. Don't blame me, blame the heat. You read both of them and then this one? Wow, that sounds… cheerful. If you check my profile, I added another fun quote for you so you have something to make you smile.
PuraJazzBot: Oh I know. Can anyone honestly say they dislike dear little Blue? I love him to death. Well, your waiting is done… sorta.
MariaShadow: Yay, I was going for intense! Ah, we'll see more of Ratchet's little part in this. He didn't wipe Blue's memories. He blocked them temporarily so Blue wouldn't go nuts then reintroduced them. I don't believe he would have erased Sunstreaker from Sideswipe, but I'll talk more about that in the next one Can't give it all away. Lol, and you guys were ready to murder First Aid in the last one too but now that he's getting picked on, you like him again. Oy! Sides has only begun to think something is wrong.
Angelus Prime: Lol, no I'm not that mean! I'm mean, but that's pushing it even for me. Here ya go!
Hika: Hahaha, that's what I said when I got off the plane. How did the ending confuse you? Maybe I can clear it up. I probably goofed something that didn't add up. Oh yeah, grief is one way to put it…
