A/N: I fail once again. This will be have four chapters apparently. Sorry bout that! –sheepish grin- Thank you so much to everyone for reading and reviewing this. It hasn't been the easiest thing to get through and I appreciate all your comments. Extra thanks goes to DesertCat87 who kicked my butt into finishing this part.
Part Three
"Sideswipe?"
No answer.
"Sideswipe, it's me, Mirage."
Nothing.
"Please open up."
"Go away!" His voice was hoarse, yet the force behind it very real.
"I can't do that." The spy paused outside for a moment, audios pressed against the door hoping to hear some movement. "I'm worried about you, Sides."
"Why the slag would you be worried about me?"
Primus, he sounded just like Sunstreaker when he got like this.
"Because I'm your friend. Now open this door."
"Friend?"
The sound of footsteps.
"You're my fucking friend?"
The door opened.
Sideswipe glared down at the much smaller mech as though he'd just thrown the most foul curse at him. Mirage stepped back, sensing the danger the red Lambo posed.
"Like Sunstreaker was my friend?"
"Sunstreaker?" Mirage tried his hardest to keep a straight face, but he knew it was pointless. Sideswipe knew. Somehow, he knew.
Taking the young officer's light comment as a blatant mockery of his ignorance, Sideswipe reacted violently. He swung out, grabbing Mirage by his delicate throat and slamming him into the old coppery golden wall, adding to the many dents that adorned it. His glittering frosty optics stared deep into his friend's, daring him to mock him further.
Drawing himself up, the spy forced himself to stare right back and not lower his gaze. Whatever he'd done, he'd stand by it. He might not be the nobleman he used to be, but by Primus he was no coward. He still had his dignity.
"You lied to me!" Sideswipe hissed. "I came to you for help and you fragging lied to me! You knew he was my brother and you didn't tell me. What the slag is wrong with you!"
"Sideswipe…" Mirage cut in softly. "Let's have this discussion somewhere more private rather than the corridors."
Optics narrowed into dangerous slits, the red warrior stepped to the side so Mirage could enter the darkened room. The only light came from the t.v. and two sets of optical sensors.
Tapes, hundreds upon hundreds of them, were strewn around the floor as though a mini-bomb had exploded. A single datapad lay on top of the TV that played only static now.
"That's the big secret then, isn't it?" Sideswipe growled once the door was shut. "Why the others get all nervous around me sometimes and stop talking."
He started pacing now, all worked up.
"Why keep it from me!" he shouted, turning on Mirage again. "He was my goddamn twin brother, Mirage!"
"Sides, please…" he tried to calm the warrior down, hands spread out peacefully.
"No! No 'please'!" The Lamborghini grabbed the remote from his couch and pressed 'play.' Immediately Sunstreaker's image filled the television screen. Sideswipe's grinning face soon appeared as well. It looked like a security camera catching the twins setting up a prank.
"Look," the real Sideswipe said in a much softer voice, the fight in him momentarily gone. "I've never seen him before, and I've never heard his voice. But that tape…"
Mirage kept his optics on the screen rather than see his friend's expression. He could hear the twins arguing quietly on some sort of aspect of the prank. See the playful shove Sunstreaker sent his brother.
"How does someone just forget their twin?" Sideswipe whispered, still holding the remote.
Mirage secretly doubted he ever really had. First Aid could only take away so much.
Now he understood all the hundreds of tapes. Sideswipe was trying to remember his brother. He still thought it was a mere head injury that was blocking parts of his memory not realizing there was nothing there to block.
"After he died, you…"
"Got angry. Dangerous," Sideswipe finished for him in a clipped tone. "I remember. A little bit at least. Then I got hurt and forgot him."
The spy went up to him, finally taking his optics from the security video. He had no doubt every tape in the room was there illegally and he, as an officer, was duty bound to report it. But he couldn't find it in himself to give a slag where those tapes had come from or what was done with them. All he wanted was for Sideswipe to understand without damning First Aid.
"You went back to the way you used to be," Mirage tried to make him understand. He had to understand. "You were happy. None of us wanted to see you like you were after Sunstreaker died."
Sideswipe said nothing to any of this, just staring at the screen with a sad, longing gaze. "You have a lot of people worried out there, Sideswipe" Mirage said gently. "You can't stay in here dwelling in the past. Come to duty." He put a comforting hand on the hurting mech's shoulder.
Flinching away from the touch, Sideswipe shut off the TV. The room was shrouded in total darkness now with only two pairs of optics visible. As he walked out the door, the melee warrior gave one last warning glare, his lazuli optics frightening in their intensity. "Never lie to me again, Mirage, or you'll regret it."
Then he was gone.
OoOoOo
"How does it feel?"
Cliffjumper gingerly tested his arms and then worked on stretching out his back without pulling apart any of the recent mends. "Fine," he replied, not able to help the suspicious glance he sent the medic's way.
The CMO wilted slightly under the mini-bot's gaze, but did not let that affect his words or actions. "Can you walk?" he asked next.
The red bot stood up and walked a few steps from the small berth. His steps were still stiff and he moved as though they were not yet back to normal. "Hurts," was his curt answer, a scowl on his face. "You said it would be fine." Why couldn't the medic fix a simple injury when he was obviously capable of screwing around with others' insides?
"Here, get up on the berth again and let me see it," the young CMO said, indicating toward the metal table. "I must have missed a rotor."
Snorting, Cliffjumper did as instructed, though he didn't look especially happy at doing it. "I coulda told you that," he said in a huff. "So what were you doin' when you should've been looking at my leg?"
"Cliffjumper," First Aid rebuked gently. "All I did was miss a rotor. There is no reason to be rude."
"Ratchet wouldn't have missed it," the mini-bot shot back before he thought of what he was saying. He regretted going that far, but would not take it back. Once said, something could not be undone. Besides, he was right. Ratchet would not have missed. He wouldn't have to worry about Ratchet doing anything but his job.
"I'm not Ratchet," the medic replied, optics darkening to a depressed darker shade of blue. "But I assure you that I am perfectly capable. He did train me after all. He and I are more alike than you think." He remembered Bluestreak's words from the day previous and felt his spirits raise a little. Yes, Ratchet had done exactly as he had done.
"I doubt it," Cliffjumper shook his head and reluctantly let the medic do as he wanted on his still-injured leg. "You're nothing like him."
Later that day, after the Protectobot discharged his patient and had some free time, he thought about what the mini-bot had said. Cliffjumper's dislike of him notwithstanding, he couldn't help but wonder just what had been meant by that comment. It was even odd in the first place that the little warrior had so much disdain for the medic when he had very little affection at all to spare on Sideswipe.
It couldn't be right, First Aid knew that what he had done and what Ratchet had done was the same. They both saved a life that was too precious to let go. Bluestreak would have gone insane and Sideswipe would have died. What other choice was there but to start over again?
Still, he could not shake it from his processor. He had to know exactly what had happened those millions of years back. Standing from his desk, the CMO walked to a cabinet on the far side of the office. Older files were kept here. Ones that covered the complete medical history of each and every Autobot on assignment on Earth. Once the stay in the Ark looked like it would be more long-term after the attack on Autobot City, he'd had the cabinet transferred over for reference.
His ivory fingers flipped expertly through the datapads until he reached the one he was looking for. Bluestreak.
A patient's records were private things, Ratchet had told him in the first week of their time together in training. The only ones who ever had the right to see these records were the CMO, medics with express permission, and the patient themselves. Not even the Commander could order a patient's files to be made available to them. And one should never view the records unless there was a dire need. Not even the CMO.
Technically, First Aid had no reason to be going through the gunner's files like this as it did not involve Bluestreak. But he had to know.
Ratchet's reports in his younger years were just as meticulous and thorough as they were later on, First Aid discovered. He left nothing out for the sake of medical honesty, even information that could very well have proved his downfall. Everything was there, from the medic's first report on Bluestreak when he came in half dead to the very procedure he'd undergone to have his memories altered. Then, later on in the reports, he discussed how he returned each memory and how he and Prowl helped the young one deal with it.
As he read on, he found that while Ratchet put in every last detail of the procedure on Blue, it was done just as he'd instructed First Aid to write his. Without any emotion whatsoever on the medic's part. All he did was explain his findings and what he did about them. Nothing on how he felt about it, or any possible consequences that might have come after. He needed to hear Ratchet's voice on the matter. He had to know if what the mini-bot had said was true.
He had to know if Ratchet would have done the same thing.
Returning to his desk, the CMO typed up a few commands. When it asked for the command sequence, he paused. He knew the code; all he had to do was type it in and he would finally be able to hear what Ratchet felt about the matter. But wait…
With a sigh he shut off the computer, disgusted with himself. Just because he had the authorization to access his mentor's personal log did not give him the right. It was there to guide him if he was in trouble, not for his own personal viewing pleasure. In his spark he knew what it would say, and reading it would only confirm what he already knew. Ratchet and he were different and their situations equally so. What had been done to Bluestreak was worlds away from what First Aid had done to Sideswipe. What was still being done to Sideswipe.
His teacher would never have done what he had dared to do, and it was plainly obvious. Bluestreak was counseled and helped into coming to grips with his loss. Sideswipe was ripped from his loss with no permission nor warning. Bluestreak kept the scars from his past and lived with them now, the same lovable mech he always was. And Sideswipe? Well, Sideswipe had been robbed of something too dear to lose and was a different, lesser bot for it. He'd been robbed of something that the Protectobot, in his youthful desire to spare a life, took away without once thinking of what exactly it was.
And now, more than ever, he felt like the monster the others made him out to be.
OoOoOo
All day Sideswipe felt as though he couldn't do anything right. He knew it was because there were other, more important things on his mind. For the first time in many many years, that he could remember, he was in complete disarray. He loved to be in control of a situation, thrived off it.
And all day he was just so very uncomfortable.
He didn't know how to act around the others anymore. They'd all lied to him. To the only one who never lied. Even now, when he knew the great secret kept from him, they still knew more than he. They could remember a time when there had been not one, but two Lambos running around. They could remember Sideswipe having a brother who was violent and rude and more vain than Tracks.
He wanted someone to go to. To talk to even if there was nothing they could do. Mirage was on his blacklist for the moment. None of the others were current favorites either. Anyone he would have gone to in the past were dead. Ratchet always had sound advice and never failed to knock the sense back into him. Prowl would have tried to solve the problem. Even Prime, had he the time to spare, would have at least listened.
Who was left now but dishonest, self-righteous bots?
"No no Blue!" cried Jazz, rushing over to the young gunner before he could destroy the computer console he was currently putting the wrong access code into.
Jazz. Of course! Of all the bots on base, it was Jazz who could be counted on in a pinch. He never lied to anyone if he could help it, and Sideswipe couldn't remember a time when the saboteur had openly lied to him about his head injury. Danced around the subject or a truth, sure, but never outright lied. He was always such a good friend, surely he would help!
The only thing that got him through his long shift was the promise of its conclusion where he might get a chance to talk. He desperately needed answers and Jazz was probably the only person who could give them. The young officer knew loss. He knew what it was to lose someone so close to him that it threatened to break him. Jazz would understand where everyone else fell short.
"Hey, Jazz," he greeted the saboteur as they headed to the lounge for some energon. "Got a minute?"
"Sure," the black and white grinned easily. Handing a mug to the warrior, Jazz nodded with his head that they go somewhere else where they could talk without twenty other pairs of audios listening in. From his friend's tone and serious face, he could tell it wasn't something that should be overheard. When they reached the privacy of his office, the saboteur leaned against his desk while the warrior sat.
"So what's on your mind, Sides?" Jazz asked, taking a gulp of energon. He rolled his shoulders slightly, aching from a long shift at a console. He'd have to take a drive later to work out the kinks.
Not knowing how to word it nicely, Sideswipe chose to go into it head-long. "I know everything."
"'Bout what?" Jazz asked curiously, thinking the warrior was talking about a joke or something of that nature.
"Sunstreaker," Sideswipe watched carefully for the other's reaction, knowing that it would tell him just how much of a hand in this his friend played.
If he was hoping for some dramatic apology or spark-felt explanation, he was sadly mistaken.
The most reaction Jazz made to this revelation was a near gag on his energon. However he kept his cool and forced his face straight. He knew since the day this started that one day he'd be faced with this situation. How the secret had been kept this long he would never know. "Oh," he answered quietly, unable to think of a more appropriate response. He couldn't very well defend himself or the others. Nor could he offer false sympathy. As wrong as he knew it was, he also knew that Sideswipe had come back to life that day and he would never regret that part.
"Why didn't you tell me?" the warrior demanded, outraged by the complete lack of emotion from the normally vibrant officer. "You're supposed to be my friend, Jazz. I never lied to any of you, but you lied to me about this. About the most important thing in my life. How could you?" Perhaps if he prodded for a reaction he might get the one he wanted.
"Sideswipe…" Jazz could see the younger mech's temper flaring despite his greatest efforts. "It's ok, man." He stepped forward from his desk, palms up as though to pacify the warrior.
It was not ok! He'd wanted answers and thought that talking to Jazz calmly would get them. But as Sideswipe looked at him, he could see no remorse on the other's face. Not even a hint that he totally despised the fabrication. Didn't he have anyone on his side anymore? As the officer approached him, Sideswipe stood up quickly. "Whose idea was it, Jazz?" he spat backing away. "Was it yours?"
"Sides, man, y' gotta calm down. Y' were dyin', somethin' had t' be done." He didn't like how twitchy the other was getting. Jazz knew that Sideswipe was capable of incredible mood swings with tempers and laughter seemingly coming out of nowhere at times. But this was extreme even for him. If he didn't calm him down right now…
"So you let me forget my twin brother?" Optics narrowed into slivers of navy blue, Sideswipe's shoulders hunched slightly. Jazz knew that look and immediately stopped. It was the look that most Decepticons saw only once. It was a look that most only ever saw from the yellow one rather than the red. "Whose idea was it? Why are you protecting them? Maybe it was you. Maybe you just wanted good ol' Sides back, huh? Some cheap chuckles at the price of my brother?"
"That's not it, man. Calm down an' we'll talk about this, mech t' mech." There was a slightly pleading lilt in his voice, but at this point he couldn't care less. "You're not thinkin' clearly. It was for th'…"
"Don't tell me it was for the best!" he screamed as though in agony, curling his fingers into twin fists. Both capable of punching a hole in a mech's chassis if he felt the need even without the piledrivers in place. Never did Jazz think he'd have to worry about just how much damage those fists could do. But from the wild look in his friend's face, he knew that the threat was very real and very likely. How did Sunny and the officers calm him down before?
Reaching out like a one might a panicked horse, the Porsche tried to reach his friend's shoulder. Sunstreaker had always used physical contact to calm his twin down, and it had always worked. Jazz just had to reach him or he would do something he would greatly regret later. This was a terrible shock, and right now the warrior needed someone to talk to. He needed to understand. "C'mon, man, this is me. Jazz. Y' can talk t' me, so jus' sit back down an' we can…"
As swift and sudden as a gust of wind, Sidewipe grabbed the outstretched hand, using it to throw the officer against his own wall, keeping him pinned with the skill of one who had been a killer for eons. He knew many ways on how to keep a bot from hurting him, and this was just one. Fortunately, this one kept the victim alive and relatively unharmed. Had he wanted to, and he was tempted, there were other and much more effective ways of ensuring one's protection.
Jazz refused to cry out at the sudden painful grip ebony fingers had on his arms nor at the intrusive body keeping him from moving an inch. Stupid, Jazz, stupid! Only Sunstreaker had been able to touch Sideswipe when he was in one of his furies. No one else could get close enough to even try.
"How can we talk," hissed Sideswipe in a low undertone, his hands moving up to rest close to Jazz's throat in warning, "if I can't believe a damn thing you're telling me?"
"Listen t' what you're sayin'!" the saboteur cried, ignoring the hints to shut his mouth. "This ain't you, Sides! Sunny wouldn' want y' t' go 'round hurtin' people who jus' wanna help."
"How would I know that? How would I know what 'Sunny' would or wouldn't want? The only reason I know what he looks and sounds like is from fragging video tapes! Is there anything else I should know? What else did you let me forget?" He was desperate now, a wild look on his face. What was the saboteur keeping from him?
Jazz gripped Sideswipe's wrists, trying to loosen the near stranglehold the warrior had on him. "No one meant t' hurt y', Siders," he choked out. "Nothin' else was changed. Jus' Sunny. I promise, man, I wouldn't lie t' you about this!"
"Changed?" Sideswipe hissed in a low dangerous whisper that was nearly inaudible. "What the frag do you mean 'changed'?"
He was so close to the saboteur's face that he could see the shock cross over Jazz's face before being carefully hidden. And now, for one of the first times ever, the black and white had no answer to give.
Not that Sideswipe was feeling very forgiving of that fact.
"Go on," he ordered gruffly. "Answer me, Jazz! What did you mean by that?"
He didn't know. Oh Primus, he didn't know! Jazz may just as well have given Hot Spot his brother's head on a plate. Sideswipe had told him he knew everything and like some slagging rookie he'd simply assumed that that meant everything. He should have known that as furious as the warrior was now, he wasn't half as murderous as he would have been had he known that his brother was deliberately erased.
Shaking his head, the saboteur refused to answer. First Aid may have tried to meddle with death itself, but Jazz would not be the one to deliver death to him. The way Sideswipe was now, and the way he would become if he knew the truth, the black and white could not be sure that he would not attempt to take the medic's life.
"Answer me!" Sideswipe cried, his grip on the other tightening enough to cause harsh dents in once spotless plating.
Jazz winced at the pain, and looked up into the young warrior's deepening blue optics. "Let me go," he requested slowly and quietly. He didn't make the rank he did by being intimidated by others. He would not give First Aid to Sideswipe; it was as easy and as difficult as that.
"What if I don't?" the red one asked. "What will you do?"
"Throw you in the brig later for assaulting an officer," Jazz answered, cold and detached to match the other's tone. His accent was gone, showing just how serious he was. "But till you let me go, I can't do anything."
"Tell me what I wanna know, Jazz," Sideswipe pressed. "Then I'll let you go and walk to the brig myself."
"No."
Sideswipe stared down at him for a moment, testing the other's resolve. Even with the visor on, it was clear that Jazz was immovable. He'd faced much worse in the past than angry Lamborghini's threatening him and remained silent. Whomever the saboteur was protecting would remain protected. And Sideswipe, as out of control as he was, had no taste for torture to get his answer.
"When I find out," he breathed, drawing his face even closer. "And I will find out, Jazz, you can expect another visit from me."
Dazed as he was still from being thrown so violently against the wall, the young officer wasn't quite sure if he was hearing the red twin's voice or the yellow's. All he could do was nod, face a stone mask to hide any of the many emotions flying through his processor. It was more habit now than any actual control on Jazz's part. If there was a threat, he automatically closed himself off to the outside. It had saved his life before and it would help him now.
When Sideswipe finally released his prisoner and fled the room, it was all Jazz could do to stay upright. Shaking his head lightly, he forced his spark to return to its laser core from where it had spent a good 10 cycles lodged in his throat. He rubbed his aching arms and chest as he gingerly picked up the mess the warrior had left.
Whatever had happened just then, one thing was certain.
They were in some serious trouble.
OoOoOo
Sideswipe didn't remember the journey back to his own quarters. Over and over he played out the last half a megacycle through his processor, struggling to make sense of it. He'd thought he knew it all. That there could be no worse crime than letting one forget their twin. But this… this opened up so many new possibilities that he was so afraid to explore.
'Nothing else was changed… Just Sunny…'
Just Sunny.
Something had been changed.
Sunny had been changed.
Sideswipe stumbled in the hallway, grasping his head with his left hand while the right reached for the wall to steady himself. It hurt! What was happening to him? Why was this happening to him? Why couldn't he have some peace for just once in his life!
"Hey, Sides, you ok?"
He couldn't be bothered with whoever was asking him that stupid question. Did he look ok to anyone? Because he certainly didn't feel ok.
Something had been changed… but what? What was Jazz talking about?
Optics deactivated, he leaned on his arms against the wall, trying to reorient himself. It hurt so badly! He needed… he needed a medic. He needed First Aid.
But no, the others always avoided him like he was some horrifying creature. Those terrible rumors spreading around about him. How he'd reprogram you, experiment with your body. Take things, change things…
The chaos in his mind ebbed away like an ocean wave, leaving nothing but an eerie silence behind.
And in the remaining silence, a calm realization washed over him like cold water.
End Part Three
A/N: Ok, so the next chapter will be the last one, I promise this time! Generally, I'm pleased with how it turned out. Can anyone see what is happening to Sideswipe so far?
Reviews!
Blowout2: Thank you, I hope you enjoyed this chapter too. I love the twins too, which is why they get so much attention like it or not ; ) Lol, ok, just making sure I'm not the only one to blame.
MariaShadow: Thanks, that was a fun part to write, I'm glad you liked it. Well after having Blades for a brother I imagine First Aid would have learned how to shoot him down after a while. I've only had my brother for 11 years and already I'm more than a match for him! Messy is one way of putting it /
DesertCat87: Thank you thank you thank you! You were such a great help when I was stuck on this and just wanted to leave it alone. Seriously, I would not have finished it without you. I hope you like the extra part I put in that you didn't see, feel free to keep sharing all your thoughts with me!
Hika: lol, that's ok. If I do end up confusing you, just let me know. I'm more than happy to explain things. I tend to be a blabbermouth about these kinds of things ; ) Hm, well it depends on what your version of happy/semi-happy. What would you like to see happen?
Tiamat1972: I'll bet Mirage wishes his name weren't Mirage too. You'll just have to see what happens to Sides, woncha? ; ) Can you see what I'm doing with him? Not happy… yeah that's one way of putting it!
TruebornChaos: Eh, I'm no fan of winter either. Then my brain freezes O.o Two humor fics? What were those? Well you're actually getting warmer… but can't say too much or I'll spoil it. It would make a nice prank, wouldn't it? Nah, you're a fun guy, you never fail to make me laugh with your reviews! Sure, what are the websites? I'd love to see them.
That Crazy Halo Girl: I hope this is soon enough! Lol, yay mind bogglin'! I love boggling minds!
HunterBlues: Thank you. Well I'm sure you can just imagine what scenes he might come across. Drunk Ratchet anyone? The proverbial is going to hit the mother of all fans! I'll try to take care of the boys, we'll just see how it plays out ; ) What would you like to see happen?
