Author's note will be up here today. I apologize for the rather abrupt lack of updates for the last few months. The reason is because I had some very quick changes in my life, including a new job, juggling around my summer semester, and a death in the family that's left me really crushed. I wanted to focus on getting myself straightened out in the real world before continuing to write, and finally I think I've settled back into a comfortable schedule and have managed to move on after my loss.
Thank you guys so much for your patience! Here's a new chapter up and ready. The good news is that I had to split this chapter in half because it got so long, so I will upload the second half next Monday, right on time. After that, though, I will be slowing my updates to every OTHER Monday, both to allow myself time to write and to ensure I can focus on my new job and my classes.
It's a little filler-y, but I hope you all enjoy it still. And as always, your reviews are always loved and appreciated. :)
"I think about them a lot."
"Your creators?"
Bluestreak nods. He slouches where he's sitting on his berth, doorwings falling a few inches, fingers nervously touching at different parts of his sniper across his lap. He slowly drags a cleaning rag up and down the barrel, murmuring quietly, "I get memory feedback of them while I recharge sometimes. I can still remember being held by my carrier, or playing with my sire. It feels so long ago now. It's getting harder and harder to remember them clearly. But then other times, I remember what happened. The explosions, the screams, the destruction. I remember how scared I was. How sad I was when I found them both..."
Bluestreak begins to tremble. For a moment Crosshairs is compelled to launch across their shared quarters, in case the young Autobot falls into another violent emotional overload, but then Bluestreak looks up at him with big blue optics nearly brimming with tears, "Is that normal? Does it always hurt this much? Am I... am I broken, Crosshairs?"
Frag it. Despite all of Crosshairs's brashness, his tough, war-hardened persona, his absolute refusal to express outward feelings - there's something deep down inside that completely shatters at watching Bluestreak cry.
He gets up and carefully settles down next to the young Praxian, taking the rifle off of his lap and placing it behind them. A brief moment passes. Crosshairs isn't sure what to say. He isn't good at things like this - soft talk has never been his strong suit. But for Bluestreak, he has to try. With a comforting hand on his shoulder, Crosshairs shakes his head, "No, Blue. You're not broken."
Bluestreak looks down, "I feel broken."
Crosshairs clenches his jaw. For a short moment there's nothing but silence. Eventually though, he takes in a deep vent and ventures deep into his own memories - the ones that he's deliberately kept away since he was around Bluestreak's age.
"...Kid, I lost my creators early on, too," he says, "I know it hurts. Trust me."
At that Bluestreak looks up at him, optics wide, "What happened to yours?"
There it is. The question Crosshairs really doesn't want to answer, but he chews down his own personal pain and goes on in a low voice, "My sire had, uh... issues with his spark. As he got older, it got worse. When he finally went to a medical center, he was diagnosed with a defective spark. They tried stabilizin' him, but... didn't work. His spark got too weak 'n gave out. My carrier passed not long after. Couldn't survive the bond break."
Bluestreak is silent for a moment. Then he asks, "Do you still think about them?"
"...Sometimes," Crosshairs shifts on the berth, "But I'm an old mech, now. I moved on. Had plenty of time to grieve. You, though, you're just a young 'un," he hesitates only for a moment, and then decides to go through with it and pull the Praxian in for a side embrace. Bluestreak leans in almost eagerly, and it makes Crosshairs's spark sink upon realizing that he's most likely never had any comforting physical contact with anyone except for his creators vorns ago.
"You tell anyone about this?"
"About what?"
"Your TEOs."
Bluestreak shakes his head right away, "No way. I don't want anybody to know about them. Everyone will think I'm weak, or scared, or still just a helpless sparkling-"
Crosshairs frowns at him, "You've gotta tell someone, kid. Someone who can help you more than me. You oughta go to Rung and-"
"No!" Bluestreak all but leaps off of the berth and out from Crosshairs's arm, shaking his head vigorously and clenching his fists, "I don't want to go to anyone! I don't want to be looked at with pity anymore! Everyone already wants to coddle me because I'm the only sparkling who survived Praxus and I'm tired of it and I want to prove that I can be useful and that I can fight and-"
"Hey, hey, Bluestreak! Easy," Crosshairs stands up and grasps Bluestreak's shaking shoulders, forcing the smaller Autobot to face him. Looking into his optics, Crosshairs can see the painful determination to be anything but broken. Bluestreak has always wanted to prove himself, but it's only now that Crosshairs can truly understand why.
"...You need help, kid."
"You help me," Bluestreak says in a small voice. Realizing the awkward silence, the young Praxian goes on, "I-I mean... being around you helps me a lot. Like when we patrol, or practice shooting and stuff like that. It helps. Keeps me from... thinking," when Crosshairs doesn't respond, he begins to babble as he usually does, "Sorry. I'm being weird. It's just that I feel comfortable around you and I've felt better since Optimus assigned you as my mentor and I-"
"Alright, Blue. Fine, fine," Crosshairs mutters. He's a little caught off guard by Bluestreak's words. He can't say there's many others who actually enjoy his presence. He can be snarky and blunt, which comes off as rude to most. The fact that this young mech looks up to him... frag it, he has a sneaking suspicion that Prime knew exactly what he was doing by putting Bluestreak under his wing. Bringing up a hand, he points at Bluestreak with a hard stare, "Let's do this, then. You have an attack, you come to me, yeah? I don't fraggin' care where I am or what I'm doin'. Come to me, and we'll talk about it."
"Just us?"
Crosshairs nods, "Just us."
Bluestreak smiles for the first time this morning. Then he embraces Crosshairs, and though the sharpshooter usually isn't keen on being 'touchy-feely', he has no problem with it this time. He can deal with it, if it means helping Bluestreak through his personal demons.
"Thanks, Crosshairs."
"No problem, kiddo."
The first thing Ellie sees when she gets out of bed and meanders into the hallway is Charlie's door wide open. She blinks at the unusual sight and wonders if her son has actually gotten up earlier than her, which is very abnormal. With furrowed brows and a slight frown, she approaches the doorway and peers inside.
She's met with a sight of Crosshairs's holoform, lax against the top of the small bed and Charlie's little form settled comfortably in the Autobot's lap. For a moment all she can do is stare. It's such a surreal scene, and as heartwarming as it is, Ellie's not quite sure why Crosshairs is in her son's room to begin with. Slowly she wanders into the room, noting that Crosshairs's eyes are closed but he doesn't seem like he's completely asleep.
"Kid had a nightmare," he murmurs. His eyes open and he slowly turns his head her way as Ellie carefully sits at the foot of the bed. Charlie shifts in Crosshairs's arms, then falls still again.
"A nightmare?" She whispers, looking down at her son, "He hasn't had one of those in a long time. Did he tell you what it was about?"
Crosshairs frowns, "'Bad man', he told me."
"Bad man?" Ellie blinks, but then understands with sinking shoulders, "Thomas."
Crosshairs nods. She sighs softly, reaching out and rubbing her son's back gently. Then she looks back up at him, "How did you know he was having a nightmare?"
"Heard him."
"...You heard him from downstairs and I somehow didn't?"
Crosshairs shakes his head, "Kid was quiet. No human would've heard him."
Right, Ellie's forgotten about the whole 'enhanced alien senses' ordeal. A small period of silence stretches between them. Ellie simply stares with interest as Crosshairs holds her son close and with a sense of familiarity. Eventually she breaks the silence by murmuring, "You're good with kids, you know that?"
He doesn't respond right away. She watches his face scrunch up for a moment, like there's something he wants to say. Ellie waits patiently for him to compose himself. He looks down at Charlie and murmurs quietly, "I remembered somethin'. Last night."
"You did? That's good, right? I know things fly by you a lot and you don't always understand them," she says. It's true; there's been a few times that Crosshairs claims to experience the occasional 'glitch'. Images or voices come and go in his head, sometimes completing memories and sometimes not. Crosshairs doesn't usually open up about them, though, so the only way Ellie knows he's experienced something is when he's particularly distant on that day.
"Seein' Charlie... it reminded me of Blue," he says after a moment, "After Praxus... kid was messed up bad. Used to have these severe TEOs..."
"TEOs?" Ellie asks.
"Traumatic emotional overloads," Crosshairs clarifies, looking at her with a frown, "Humans call it PTSD. I'd come in and Bluestreak..." he shakes his head, looking away and swallowing, "He cried for his home. Cried for his dead creators. Didn't know what to do at first, but then somethin'... clicked, I guess. Don't know how to describe it, just acted. Used to hold him like this, 'till he calmed down."
Ellie can see the troubled expression on his face. She offers him a small, knowing smile and says softly, "That's a little something we humans like to call 'paternal instinct', Crosshairs."
He seems to ponder on her words for a moment, then says, "Cybertronians... we've got this... core programming. We all have it. Makes us do things without thinkin'."
"Like instincts."
Crosshairs nods, then goes on slowly, "In that core programming we've got protocols. When activated they can alter how we act. One of 'em is somethin' called guardian protocols. Couple Autobots had it activated for human charges. Makes us prioritize that person who we wanna protect."
Ellie remembers something about that right away, from the N.E.S.T files. She'd once skimmed through documentations of Cybertronian behavior, and 'guardianship' was among that information. "I've read something about that before. William Lennox had an Autobot as his 'guardian', right?"
Looking a little surprised that she knows that, he nods.
"You were Bluestreak's guardian, weren't you?" She asks.
"Not... officially, but..." Crosshairs shifts against the headboard, "Guess I was. My protocols are on 'n I didn't even know it."
"Well, sometimes we all develop things without even noticing, Crosshairs. Paternal instinct is one of them, and you don't have to be an official parent to have it," Ellie says softly, "In fact, I'd say it's completely normal. Instinct, core programming, it doesn't matter. Same difference. Point is, I think that every sentient species has this primal urge to protect the young."
"Protect the young..." he murmurs, "Yeah, guess that makes sense..."
Charlie begins to squirm, causing the conversation to end there as they both revert their attention to him. The little boy lets out a long yawn, twisting so that he's sitting up in Crosshairs's lap with his back to the Autobot's chest. Rubbing his bleary eye with a fist, he blinks them open and smiles sleepily at his mother. Ellie smiles and runs her fingers through Charlie's messy curls before signing, 'Good morning.'
Charlie grins and returns the sign. Then his eyes wander upwards and he cranes his head to look at Crosshairs. The Autobot offers a small smile of his own, eyes widening a fraction when the little boy twists and rests his head on his chest again. Ellie laughs a little, her eyes meeting his, "I'm not sure, but I think he likes you."
"Think so?" Crosshairs replies, smirking and raising a brow.
Ellie taps her son's shoulder to get his attention. She signs, 'Are you hungry?'
After a short moment of thought, Charlie nods. At that both adults move to get up, only for Charlie to make a whining noise in protest and hang on to Crosshairs's abdomen when he tries to slip off of the bed. Crosshairs pauses immediately, and glances unsurely at Ellie. She's surprised too; Charlie has never been so clingy before. But then she sees her son's head swiveling around and realizes with a sinking heart that he's still afraid of his nightmare.
"Oh Charlie..." Ellie kneels down and signs to him while also whispering softly, "You have to let him go, baby. It's okay-"
"Don't," Crosshairs says.
Ellie casts him a confused look. She watches as he simply adjusts his hold on Charlie and stands up, "I'll hold him. 'S fine."
"Are you sure?"
Crosshairs nods. Knowing that trying to pry Charlie off of him at this point will really upset him, Ellie just sighs in defeat and heads downstairs with Crosshairs in tow. For a flicker of a moment, she thinks about how there's an Autobot right behind her, holding her child, and it's nearly freaky how natural it all seems. It's almost impossible to imagine their lives without Crosshairs being in it. He's been an unexpected, but quiet and protective presence in her family which they have lacked for many, many years.
These thoughts hang around within her mind for a little while as she absentmindedly starts a pot of coffee. She looks over her shoulder to see that Charlie has apparently finally seen fit to let go of Crosshairs, allowing the Autobot to set him down. She waits for her son to climb on a seat at the island and signs, 'Bacon and eggs?'
His response is a vigorous nod. Ellie laughs, "Alright, bacon and eggs it is."
The first things she go for are her stainless steel pans. She opens her cabinets and sighs, suddenly remembering that her good pans are stored on the top shelf, out of her reach. Goodness, why did she think that was a good idea? Standing on her tip toes, Ellie tries to at least catch her fingers on the handle, only to feel a presence behind her and watch a much larger, longer arm grab the pans and pull them down effortlessly.
A faint, grateful smile pulls at her lips. She turns around and instantly freezes. Thomas's imposing figure is towering over her. His eyes are narrowed and his grin is viscous-
"Ellie?"
Ellie blinks. Crosshairs is there instead, staring down at her steadily with the pans he'd pulled down offered to her. She blinks a few more times, clenches her jaw and takes the pans stiffly. The vision of Thomas has rendered her shaken.
Crosshairs measures her expression carefully. He knows something is wrong and he frowns, "You alright?"
"I- yeah," Ellie turns around and places the pans on the stove, "Yeah, I'm fine. Um, thank you, Crosshairs..."
It's obvious that he isn't convinced, but whatever he has to say is cut short as Maddie walks in with a yawn. She looks towards the two of them and smiles, "Hi, Mom. Hi, Crosshairs."
"Hey, sweetie. I'm making breakfast, so you two can go watch something in the living room if you want," Ellie replies. Maddie nods, and eventually she and her brother wander off to the living room and turn the TV on.
"Ellie..." Crosshairs begins once they're gone.
"Don't Crosshairs, I said I'm fine," she waves her hand, before wandering to the refrigerator for the carton of eggs, "You just... startled me."
Again he throws her an entirely unconvinced look, but he doesn't press on it anymore. He simply watches as Ellie prepares breakfast. Aside from the TV in the living room, it's silent for a while. Eventually, though, as she's flipping the bacon she hears Crosshairs speak.
"Remember that whole 'you can talk to me' thing you told me about at the park?" He says, "Goes both ways, doll."
Ellie sighs. She plops the bacon onto a plate on the side, drops the spatula, and turns to him, frowning, "Okay, fine. There's times where I look at you and... I see him. I don't know why, but it just happens. I know you're nothing like Thomas, and I know it must sound really freaking pathetic, but-"
"Hey," Crosshairs interrupts, stepping closer. He carefully reaches out and grips her shoulders, urging her to fall silent. Ellie notices how cautious his movements are, undoubtedly to avoid triggering any unwanted memories of Thomas reaching for her. It's a small thing, but the extra care brings a warmth within her. He gazes down at her, raising a brow, "Relax."
Ellie wipes her face, "Sorry, I'm still a little worked up after... Thomas, last night."
"Figured," he says, and then adds in a somber tone, nodding towards the living room "You know how many times I look at 'em and see Blue? Can't explain it either, it just happens. Frag, it happened with Charlie, the other night."
Ellie frowns, "Is it painful?"
Crosshairs sighs softly, "Sometimes. Kid died in my arms, don't really like bein' reminded of it." He glanced back towards the living room, "But... those two keep me from tryin' to forget him, too."
Not knowing what else to say, Ellie just nods. But she takes a small comfort in that she's not the only one distantly haunted by someone. The atmosphere lightens after the small talk, with Ellie going for her coffee only after breakfast is done and the kids have their plates in the living room. When she pulls the pot out she hears Crosshairs make a strange noise. She turns around, "What?"
There's something increasingly alluring about watching Ellie go about herself. He's usually in the garage in the mornings, either still in a deep recharge or only just coming out of it. Being inside though, he finds himself intrigued by even the smallest things she does. He's not sure if that's simply because human mannerisms are still a bit of a mystery to him, or because Ellie has undeniably become an object of interest to him.
Being in her gentle presence soothes him, in a way he can't describe. The horrors of DC can't touch him here. She makes him feel... good. Comfortable. Safe.
The rich scent filling the kitchen drags him from his musings. With the holoform retaining the heightened senses of a Cybertronian, he's able to pick up on it a lot quicker and more strongly than humans. He utters a noise without even realizing it, causing Ellie to glance at him, "What?"
He eyes the coffee pot in her hand, "Smells weird."
"The coffee?" She looks down at it, laughs for a moment, then sets it down. Crosshairs finds her genuine laugh endearing, musical even, and decides that he definitely wants to hear more of it. "Oh, yeah, I guess it smells pretty strong for someone who isn't used to it."
She pours the steaming beverage into a coffee mug, hesitates, then looks over at him with an inquiring expression, "...You want to try some?"
Crosshairs considers it for a moment, then nods silently. Sure, since his curiosity is getting the better of him. Humans at N.E.S.T had a furious addiction to coffee, and he'd never quite understood why. In fact, there was never a morning where even Captain Lennox wasn't walking out of the barracks bossing everyone around with a mug in his hand.
Ellie gets a second mug from the cabinet and pours another cup. She wanders over to where he's leaning against the island and places the mug down. The coffee's smell flows steadily into his nose, and a moment later he picks up a waft of a soft, flowery scent as Ellie turns and walks away. It's nearly intoxicating.
"I know you've probably never had coffee before, but you strike me as the typical 'straight black coffee' kind of guy," she says, throwing him a small smile as she sips her own mug. She waves a hand at him, "Go on, try it. If you don't like it, I have creamer and sugar to give it a better taste. I myself like my coffee sweet."
He raises a brow at her enthusiasm, but picks up the warm mug silently. He stares at the dark colored liquid for only a moment before casually bringing it to his lips for a sip. He's met with a very strong taste and he grunts while swallowing. Crosshairs isn't initially sure what to make of the flavor. It's not bad, but not something he thinks is worthy enough for the addictions he's seen some N.E.S.T soldiers have.
Still he takes a few more sips of the coffee as it cools and he processes its taste a little more. He looks over to see Ellie grinning a little at him. She inclines her head, "Well? What's your verdict, big guy?"
"Mm," he purses his lips, staring at it thoughtfully, "'S alright, I guess. So why are humans so addicted to this stuff?"
Ellie laughs, "Well, coffee has caffeine in it. Caffeine helps give us energy and stay awake. That's why most adults drink it in the morning, so it helps us wake up and get ready for the day. And it tastes good, so almost everybody likes it."
Crosshairs hums. He supposes that makes sense. Bringing the mug up again, he gazes at Ellie while she settles near the doorway to the livingroom and watches her kids. His eyes wander over her small frame while she's turned away, not even realizing he's doing it. Her blonde hair is pulled over one shoulder, leaving one side of her neck bare for him to see.
Inevitably he zeroes in on the soft, pale skin. He remembers just the night before, when he'd been driven only by pure male instinct. The distant thought of his lips on her skin, against her beating pulse, brings forth the sudden urge to do it all over again. Just the mere thought of it makes his spark pulse, and it feels good. He wants to be close to her, hold her in his arms again, kiss her in the places that make her breath hitch, or make her laugh-
Crosshairs blinks. Then he sulks as he realizes something in that very moment.
...Fraggin' hell. I'm attracted to a human.
Ellie turns to find Crosshairs staring at her. At this point it isn't as unusual as it used to be, but she still squirms under his eyes. She raises a brow at him, "What?"
Crosshairs blinks, then turns away, evidently not having realized that he's been staring. She sees him look a little unsurely down at his coffee and offers, "If you're done with that, you can just set it down by the sink. I'll take care of it."
As he does just that, she half-expects him to linger around. And he does, but when she meets his eyes again, with her mug to her lips, she sees an unfathomable mixture of emotion in his eyes. He clenches his jaw, like there's something he wants to do or say, only he isn't sure how to go about it. Ellie can see an urge, the same urge she'd seen last night, and promptly sets her own coffee down, "Okay, what's the matter with-"
Ellie doesn't get to finish. Crosshairs biting his bottom lip is the only forewarning she gets. She most definitely does not expect it when he practically lunges as soon as she opens her mouth, grabs her face, and captures her in an open-mouthed kiss that leaves her completely breathless. It feels as though a heat is ignited deep inside of her, and she feels only the slight swipe of a tongue before it all ends and she's left with a gaping mouth and a dizzy mind.
For a good moment she's frozen in place. When she finally blinks and manages to snap herself out of it, she looks up to see Crosshairs slyly licking his lips and smirking.
"Hmm," he hums casually, "Think I like mine sweet, too."
And then he's gone, leaving Ellie with many questions and many mixed feelings. She touches her lips, struggles to control her rapid emotions, and then quickly slips into the living room in hopes of occupying herself from what in the world had just happened.
Ultimately, Ellie figures that a trip to the store will help keep her mind off of the little encounter with Crosshairs that morning. Having complete faith that he can watch her kids for an hour, she heads to the local supermarket and is steadily walking across the lot and towards the entrance when a vehicle in the corner of her eye comes nearly charging through, straight towards her.
A startled yelp escapes her, the burn of adrenaline rushing through her as her flight instincts kick in. Ellie jumps back and nearly topples over onto the ground as she comes face to face with a car screeching to a halt just inches in front of her. With her heart thudding, she stares wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the black and white police cruiser that nearly ran her over. Its engine snarls.
"Move."
The voice is deep and menacing and laced into a growl. There's a tremble in it, though - as if rushed. Maybe even afraid.
It takes all of five seconds for her to realize the situation and Ellie darts out of the way of the flaring cruiser only just before it launches forward again and out of the lot. She catches sight of a sharp edged insignia on its side before it's gone. She stands there uneasily and looks around, but it seems that nobody else has noticed the encounter she's just had.
With her heart continuing to beat just a little faster, Ellie skitters into the store. The more she tries to solely focus on her shopping list, however, the more she thinks back to what she has just seen. She recognizes the insignia. She knows what it means, and she knows that she very well may have just faced off with death itself. In a stupid parking lot, of all places!
She's not sure what's more unnerving; that there's a Decepticon right in the middle of public, or that there is clearly something that he was running from.
But what could possibly scare a Decepticon?
The thoughts follow her as she eventually exits the store, with her eyes darting across the lot in case of another potentially dangerous encounter. But nothing seems out of place - there's people walking back and forth and vehicles moving in and out of the parking lot. Ellie can't help but wonder if there's any other cars in her vicinity that aren't as lifeless as they seem.
She stops and stares when she reaches her car. Her fingers clench onto the cart handle tightly, just as her breath hitches. She isn't sure what to do, or what to make of what she's seeing. Ellie almost always parks in the back, where there's little to no other vehicles nearby. But here, parked right next to her, is a very black, very menacing looking Lamborghini.
It feels as though a chill has run up and her spine. She looks around again - there's still some people around. A man even passes by, walks right up to the supercar and snaps a few pictures. It makes her feel foolish. Why is she so afraid of it? There's nothing that indicate that it's anything other than a fancy car parked next to her. Right, it's expensive. People like to park their expensive cars away from everything else. That's normal, Ellie. Get over yourself.
And yet the closer she forces herself to be, the more she gets this cold and overwhelming sense of danger. The kind that has the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. The kind that warns her that something is about to come after her, at any second. Cautiously Ellie gives the Lamborghini a very wide berth and pops open her trunk with shaking fingers. She keeps glancing at it, waiting for it to move, or change, or do something.
But the dark supercar sits there peacefully and harmlessly. Ellie still feels like she's being closely watched.
Relax, Ellie. It's just a car. As she finishes loading her groceries, she watches two other people come very close to the Lamborghini to admire it. Nothing happens. Just a car...
It's that police cruiser that's keeping her unnerved, she figures. She still can't believe that had happened and that no one was miraculously close enough to hear it speak. She's sure someone would have reported had it been anyone except for her.
It's a Decepticon. Maybe I should.
But she shoots down that thought as quickly as it comes. She touches her phone in her back pocket, yet she can't bring herself to call. What right does she have, to spare one Cybertronian and turn in another? No matter the faction, they're all living things, struggling to hide and survive. That cruiser was no exception. He seemed frightened enough. But by what?
After pushing her now empty cart into a nearby cart holder Ellie takes a deep breath and wills herself to squeeze between her car and the Lamborghini. Who ever owns it conspicuously decided to park on her driver's side. There's a lingering uneasiness being this close to the supercar and Ellie's quick to jump into her car without a second glance. She just wants to get away from it as quickly as she can. As she pulls out and gets ready to drive away, she takes a glimpse at her rear view mirror.
The Lamborghini is gone.
