And that's 3/3! I hope you guys enjoyed the end of this arc, we're finally moving on to the next stage! This is the ~drama~ chapter.
Quick reminder that I have a blog on tumblr under the same name, I plan to post a quick not at all official sketch I made on my clunky iPhone to give you guys an idea of how I picture Silverline.
Silverline.
Ratchet stared down at the floor. Had been for hours now without any humans to put at ease or a sparkling to entertain, his day consisted of firmly locked joints and highly sensitive seismic activity monitoring. As stationary as any human device.
Silverline.
It was a good designation, he'd told Jazz so when he'd announced the news over his comm channel and he'd meant it. Prime had done an excellent job, Ratchet couldn't find fault in how carefully he'd crafted the designation to fit the sparkling just right
Silverline.
And yet, Ratchet struggled to keep on task, to push that particular coding out of his central processor and yet. It was impossible to ignore, sunk down deep inside. Too close to his spark to even pretend it was a passing thought, shame and embarrassment and regret churned it up to the surface constantly.
What a petty, scrap-metal mech he was that upon hearing Harry's new designation, the first thought in his helm was soaked in jealousy.
Ratchet was supposed to be the one to redesignate Harry.
It wasn't true, it was the sulking fit unworthy of even a cybertronian of Silverline's maturity. He wasn't Silverline's parental unit and wasn't owed any special privileges over him, least of all against his will. It was this same ugly side of him that ensured he hadn't even been there when Silverline accepted his new designation.
Ratchet knew all this, and yet knowing didn't make it any easier to swallow.
He didn't assist in creating Silverline, didn't provide the parts or nurse the spark or even check him over upon activation. He was just the old mech who knew how to heat his servos to an optimum temperature for a first-frame sparkling.
It was so easy to remember details like this when he was alone, when Ha-Silverline wasn't staring up at him like he hung the stars. When adoration wasn't swimming in his green optics or when he wasn't nestled against Ratchet like he had been created for the sole purpose of being protected in the medic's embrace.
It was so easy to act like a fully functional, stable Autobot when it wasn't even easier to pretend he had a sparkling.
Perhaps that was why he'd lost his temper so spectacularly with Ironhide. The fighting wasn't new, they had very different philosophies about raising the last living sparkling on an alien planet. But it had remained semi-civil and kept clear and away from their fragile charge, as it should be.
However, that wretched day, maybe Ironhide had hit it square on its pathetic head. This was the closest any of them would get to being part of a family unit and it had gone straight to Ratchet's helm. Oh and how it had hurt to get that thrown back in his face, for someone to look him square in the optics and tell him Silverline wasn't his.
Ridiculous, it was ridiculous. To lose control over a half-baked delusion getting yanked away like a child's security blanket. Even more so, it was mortifying that he knew all this and it still stung that Silverline had chosen another to give him a designation.
Bumblebee had more grace than him in the matters of sparkling favor and the scout was less than half his age. Pathetic, so pathetic. Prime had to be regretting even allowing him into the unit by this point, such an illustrious position and he'd sank into a full meltdown in the center of their base.
He didn't even deserve to interact with Silverline anymore, not with how untrustworthy he'd proved himself. The sparkling was better off with Jazz and Prime, probably didn't want anything to do with him after that ghastly display. Who would? Whenever he was given half a chance to bond with Silverline he took it too far, became too emotional, craved too much.
He'd look at Silverline, fresh and clean of their people's sins. He took in gossamer plating and expressive wings and optics that offered his entire self up without reserve. Ratchet took it all in and found himself shuttering away afterimages of long-dead sparklings softly keening for relief, the ghosts of femmes killing themselves in an effort to keep their children functioning just another day, the sensation of filling yet another ditch with tiny frames he'd once introduced to Cybertron himself.
He'd gaze down at Silverline snuggled in his arms, with sheer, unending terror.
Weak as he was, that was all it took. Every sparkbeat felt like the tick of a timer counting down, a bomb that was liable to go off at any second for weeks on end and Ratchet was desperate to diffuse it.
Silverline was so good in the way only young sparklings could be, ten twists of the planet around its sun filled with misery and solitude wasn't enough to beat back a generous spark and unbending compassion. Ratchet had been forgiven of his outbursts more times than he deserved, but this was the final straw.
He'd scared Silverline, even Megatron hadn't managed that one. How pathetic, how utterly and completely pathetic. He should just-
"Ratchet."
In the days long silence, Ironhide's soft utterance roared through the hangar like a blaster shot.
In the next moment, a servo clamped down on his wrist and pulled it away from his frame. It was only then that he realized he had been moving, not nearly as statuesque as he'd believed himself to be. He was slowly picking away at a badly welded wound, scratching through the cracks and into the wires until he'd reached delicate circuitry.
Ratchet stared back into Ironhide's flat face, startled to find warnings blinking before his optics, how long they'd been there he couldn't guess.
Shuttering his optics he quickly dismissed the warnings and tugged free of Ironhide's grip, "I'm fine."
"Your servo is covered in energon," Ironhide snorted, folding his arms before himself imperiously.
Ratchet looked down at the servo in question and found the very tips of his digits electric-blue with energon stains, a quick scan told him he'd nicked a thin wire before reaching his circuits and it was oozing slowly into his vambrace.
He huffed and shifted away from Ironhide to carefully sear the wire shut, "Barely a few drops, you glitch."
"I'm sure Silverline would've been comforted by that."
Ratchet couldn't stop the flinch that wracked his frame.
"Cease," He muttered, "I don't want to fight any longer."
He was no longer looking at Ironhide, but he knew the mech was leaning in further, looming with the aid of his taller frame.
"If I was aiming for a fight, you'd know. I'm serious, Silverline fret over you a lot last time you were deployed. Don't give him more to stress over."
Ratchet hadn't known Ironhide to be so precise with his blows before, he twisted his head around to stare him down with fire in his optics, "I won't be mocked, especially by you."
Ratchet expected cool contempt in the weapon specialists' optics, perhaps a daring grin better fit for a sparring match. He was brought up short by the neutral stance of his peds and wary confusion smeared across his faceplates.
"What?" Ironhide said, "Do you think I'm lying or something? The sparkling barely tolerates Jazz's dents, I can't imagine how he'd respond to you bleeding energon right in front of him."
Ratchet felt wrong-footed, rearing back from what could only be stabs at his fall from Silverline's regard, but spoken without a hint of guile. If it had come from someone more devious he may truly believe he was being coaxed into striking first to allow Ironhide the excuse of self defense in the ensuing battle, but it was Ironhide, and so he was at a loss.
Comprehension dawned on Ironhide before Ratchet, which was incredibly disconcerting. He could only watch in hopes that some sense would be made of this exchange.
Incredulity soon followed, chasing away the last of the confusion coloring Ironhide's expression, "You virus-addled junkard," he exclaimed, "You can't be defective enough to believe Silverline severed your bond!"
"We don't have a bond, that's the issue!" Ratchet was quick to hiss back, "I keep overstepping when we aren't connected by any bond."
Ironhide dismissed him with a callous wave, "I meant figuratively, you're his favorite Autobot by far."
Whether or not it was meant maliciously, a new wave of guilt and misery crashed over Ratchet's helm and he shrank below the blow, "Not any longer, I scared him. He hasn't even looked at me since."
"Ya ain't looked at him either so yer pro'lly even," A new voice called out frostily and both Ironhide and Ratchet jumped in surprise.
Jazz stood at the entrance, flinty with a firm press to his mouth plates.
"You're back, are Silverline and Prime returning too?" Ironhide asked.
"Affirmative, they wanted to see Sam an' Mikaela off 'fore Bumblebee took 'em back to the city," Jazz strode purposefully into the hangar, "So I wanted to make a few things clear in the meantime."
Ratchet couldn't imagine Jazz dispensing any new reprimands, he'd been thorough in his scalding diatribe while Prime was soothing Silverline. However, he settled in for more. Steeling his spark against whatever else his first officer could punish him with.
"Stop ignorin' Silverline, he deserves a damned good apology an' then some sign you two ain't mad at him. This is gettin' handled right now, get me?"
A startled noise escaped Ratchet's throat as he shuttered his optics in bewilderment, Ironhide matched him with a loud guffaw.
"He thinks we're mad at him?"
Jazz dipped his head, optics flat, "Fer snitchin' when ya scared him. Prime an' I let it be 'cause we thought the two o'ya would be scramblin' to clear things up with him, instead I find ya broodin' like a couple'a third-frame sparklin's."
"It's Ratchet who's brooding! He's convinced himself Silverline hates him now or something. I was just trying not to force him into forgiving me or anything," Ironhide protested.
Ratchet clenched his servos, "How could Silverline trust me again after this? He should want nothing to do with me at this point."
"Yer both glitched," Jazz said, "The lil' bots been with us fer long enough that ya'll should know him by now. He don't forgive on a whim, 'Bee's still fightin' that uphill battle. He's got a spine and ain't afraid to show it, so give him more credit."
While Ironhide stood in shamefaced silence Jazz fixed his gaze on Ratchet, "An' you. Pull your helm out of your miserable aft, I can smell the self pity from here. Yer not avoidin' him to spare him the agony of yer presence, yer just terrified of bein' rejected. Did ya scare Silverline, affirmative. Will he pro'lly be standoffish fer a bit, affirmative. But if ya really cared you'd do what Bumblebee is doin' and stick it out. One mistake ain't gonna destroy what you have, but abandonin' him when the goin' gets tough just might."
It was more than that, a mulish part of Ratchet insisted. He was terrified of a lot more than rejection. But Jazz had aimed true and cut him down to the core, leaving him gaping and far too exposed in the enclosed space of the headquarters. It felt like he had been peeled out of his inner armor in a crisp breeze, setting every raw sensory receptor alight.
"Sorry," Was all he could muster up, hoarse and weak even to his own auditory receptors.
Jazz made a disgusted noise, "Don't apologize to me, I already know yer sorry- ya better be after all Prime an' I have said. Go tell the sparkling who thinks ya don't like him anymore."
That thought horrified and galvanized him in equal measure. No sparkling should blame themselves for feeling unsafe, they especially shouldn't expect anger and resentment from their caretakers. It was wrong, in worse taste than even faulty programming.
Ratchet had no idea what experience had lead Silverline to believe he could ever deserve to be ignored, but that belief would never be met with anything but sharp contradiction in their base.
If apologizing and subjecting himself to Silverline's newly obtained indifference was the cost of easing that guilt, it would be worth it.
Jazz must've seen the resolve blossoming in his processors, for he nodded sharply in approval and clapped them both on the shoulder harshly enough to nearly scratch their paint.
"This'll be resolved by sundown," He said with a touch of cheer that was at odds with his threatening atmosphere.
"Yessir," Ironhide saluted, just the right side of sincere. Ratchet was quick to follow his earnest example.
To their relief, the silver mech seemed appeased and, with one final, measuring look, sauntered off. He brushed past them and further into the hangar, which gave Prime the room he needed to roll into the hangar not long after
Though he entered on near silent wheels and didn't speak a word, he may as well have danced onto a stage with the immediate attention he commanded. Even the humans outside had stilled to get a peek of him and his charge before Ironhide resumed his duty of glowering at them out of Silverline's sight.
Prime transformed in a twist of components and plating with Silverline nestled safely in his large servos, spindly frame wrapped around his thumb in a way Ratchet knew allowed Prime to feel the sparkbeat thrumming against his wafer-thin chest plating.
With a curt nod to the two of them, Prime hurried to tuck Silverling back in his nest. He pulled the soft fabrics all about the sparkling, caressing the narrow line of his wings with steady servos. Silverline trilled contentedly, and though he couldn't bring himself to smile, Ratchet found amusement in the helpless way Prime folded like wet tissue paper, melting into something gentler than his years should allow.
All too soon, the warm scene closed off before Ratchet and Ironhide as Prime pulled back enough to fix them both with an expectant stare. Silverline didn't notice the distraction, rifling through his nest for a book he had yet to finish, but Ratchet knew he was out of time.
He and Ironhide slowly crossed the hangar, approaching Silverline's cot with all the anxiousness of a Decepticon camp raid. It was easier to sneak when the floor wasn't made of concrete though, Silverline followed their ruckus until they were pinned by a pair of round optics a few steps from his ring of space heaters.
With a battle-guard mouth plate obscuring a good third of Silverline's face, it should've been difficult to read his expression. However, whatever emotion his fluttering wings didn't give away was on full display in the glittering depths of his optics. Apprehension, confusion, wariness, it may as well have been another shade of neon green for how visible it was.
"It's a good designation," Ironhide began, he was staring somewhere between Silverline and his own peds, "Silverline suits you."
Ratchet was quick to join in, "Yes, congrats on finding one you liked. It's a designation to be proud of."
Silverline gazed up at them both, servos wrapped so tautly in his sheets they just might rip under his claws, "Thanks."
Ratchet's spark felt like it was hollowing in on itself, too large and yet too fragile all at once as he took in the hesitance he'd put in Silverline. It was awful, he'd honestly rather go brawl with their last Decepticon foe than keep forcing the sparkling to speak with him, but Jazz was right. He couldn't just hide for his own sake.
"We wanted to apologize," Ratchet blurted out, lowering himself to his knees before his tiny charge. Proud Ironhide dropped right down with him, and it wasn't nearly low enough to see optic-to-optic with Silverline, but hopefully it made them less intimidating.
"We should've done it sooner but we didn't want to-" Lie. Ratchet swallowed and tried again, "I didn't think you'd want to speak with me. But that's- you should know. We were sorry from the very astrosecond we realized we were causing you distress."
Ironhide dipped his helm, "We shouldn't have lost our tempers like that, but we were only angry with each other. We were never angry with you, none of that was your fault."
"You don't have to forgive us, we just wanted you to know how sorry we are," Ratchet tacked on awkwardly, and his half-hazardly constructed script came to an abrupt end.
Was it sincere enough? Had he made Silverline uncomfortable at any point? He didn't dare peek at Prime for a read on how they'd done, he could only sit in apprehension for Silverline's response.
The sparkling didn't keep them waiting, he squirmed and twittered nervously under their joint attention but still didn't mull on his words for very long before braving the silence.
"Y-you're not angry with me?"
"Didn't cross our processors even once," Ironhide immediately swore with Ratchet bobbing his helm furiously in agreement.
Silverline eyed them cautiously, wary of their sincerity. It stung, but by Primus Ratchet was going to make Silverline believe this one truth above all else before he allowed the conversation to drop.
"But I ssssnitched, I got you in trouble. You weren't ewhen yelling at me and I ssstill-"
"You did the right thing! I got in trouble because I was behaving like an utter glitch and that's on me." Ironhide interrupted.
Ratchet watched him, pity sinking in his gut at the utter self-loathing wracking his frame. It had been the mech's jerk-reaction to attack Ratchet for making their leader play referee to a petty squabble, and had Ratchet actually done so, a fairly understandable one.
Regardless of whatever peaceful, civilian roles they may have played a millennia ago, they were soldiers to the core now. Hardened veterans who knew how to one-hit kill with a blaster and how to just make it hurt when an utter aft of an Autobot picked a fight. At the most, they would've wrestled and maybe carved one more scratch into the myriad of lines already breaking up their paint. They didn't need Prime breaking them up like wayward rookies, or at least they shouldn't.
But they had, because Silverline had been the one to bring it to Prime's attention. Because Silverline had thought it was necessary to seek out guidance and protection when his personal guard and medic were standing right next to him. That changed things immensely and Ironhide had recognized that the moment he took a good look at the sparkling.
Too bad it had been a moment too late.
"But you were so mad," Silverline was whispering like a confession, guilt and fear in the hunch of his spine.
Ironhide looked like he was choking on the sight so Ratchet tried his best to help out.
"Do you remember how angry you were with Optimus our first night here?" Ratchet asked.
Silverline tilted his head, uncertain, but he nodded.
"You were so angry and you kept feeling angry even after he left, so when I got your attention you were accidentally angry with me too. Once you realized how you acted, were you really angry with me?"
"No," Silverline said, inching forward, "M'sssory Ratchet, I said mean things then."
Ratchet crooned, couldn't help it when the sparkling looked so in need of comforting, "None of that, little one, I already forgave you. I just wanted you to remember how that felt, so you'd know how Ironhide feels."
"It's true," Ironhide said, "I lost my temper and wanted to fight with Ratchet, so I didn't detect how distressed you were. As soon as I realized you were the one to tell Prime I felt just as awful as you did that night."
This was definitely the right track to take. Slowly, the confusion was leaving Silverline's optics as he hesitantly put together what they were trying to tell him.
"Ssso you were only angry with Ratchet…" It wasn't a question but they both nodded sharply, watching as fear gradually gave way to relief like ice melting under the weak rays of spring.
"I-I fwhorgive you, then." He announced.
Ironhide spine snapped straight, wonder in his face, "You don't have to forgive either of us," he still managed croakily, "We're just here to apologize."
Silverline looked back down at his lap, kicking his peds under the covers until he was half unravelled from his nest. Finally he spoke in hushed tones, "You were both mean."
Ratchet and Ironhide jerked closer, sparks thudding hard in their chests but whatever words they scrounged for fell from their servos when the sparkling continued.
"But mostly to each other, did, um, you apologize to each other too?" He still wasn't looking at them.
Ratchet and Ironhide sat back, eyeing each other now, bewildered.
Would Silverline truly forgive them if they apologized to each other for arguing? Why did he care whether or not they had gotten over their grievances with one another? Unless it was to make sure it didn't happen again?
Still, whatever the reason, Ratchet would humor the odd prompt.
"I'm sorry, Ironhide," Ratchet said, a little blankly.
Ironhide nodded, "I'm sorry too."
As one, they turned back to Silverline apprehensively, who had finally lifted his optics from his pointed peds.
Strangely, this seemed to have been the very best thing for them, as Silverline was now brimming with relief, wings swinging happily behind him as he beamed up at them. Ironhide ventilated in a dramatic whoosh of hot air, slumping as though he'd completed some arduous task.
Ratchet had settled somewhere in the grey realm of utter loss, no longer trusting any of his predictions as Silverline hopped from his cot and took a few tiny steps closer to them.
"Ssso no one's mad anymore?" He asked with burgeoning hope, servos clenching like he was resisting the urge to lift them, to be picked up and pet.
Silverline could've asked them if they wanted to find a replenishing energon mine and they still would've said no, it wasn't even a conscious decision.
With a happy chirrup, Silverline crossed the ring of heaters and hopped right into Ironhide's palm, wings fanned and servos digging into an offered digit for balance.
Ironhide couldn't have looked more relieved if he tried, faceplates assembled in a manner more befitting a prisoner narrowly escaping execution than a mech forgiven for a squabble. With agonizing slowness, like Silverline could disappear at any moment, he ran a digit along the slope of his helm.
Obligingly, perhaps with a touch too much patience to be anything but humoring, the sparkling leaned into the touch, encouraging the digit to continue its path down the line of his spine, between his shoulder blades.
"Silverline," Ironhide vented, and Ratchet wasn't sure it was voluntary, before he carefully enfolding Silverline in his embrace, right up against the piping of his throat and tucked directly under his chin.
Silverline cooed, just as thirsty for contact it seems, as he was quick to worm himself into a comfortable position draped over pistons like a kitten. He was swiftly obscured from view as Ironhide curled himself around the sparkling, cupping and stroking so gently he could've been handling porcelain instead.
Ratchet knew it was time to give them a moment, Ironhide definitely needed cuddle time after finding out Silverline had been frightened of his wrath since the fight. It seemed to be something Silverline needed as well, a physical reassurance that what he had believed was truly false.
He looked at Prime then, near forgotten in his place behind the cot and smiled wanly. His leader nodded, not returning the gesture, but he'd thawed significantly since the start of the conversation. He no longer looked to have been carved from ice and disappointment, at least.
Jazz was quick to mirror the prime, calling Ratchet over to look discuss possible materials to use for Silverline's armor like nothing had happened, like Ironhide wasn't whispering sparkfelt apologies into the space he'd created just for Silverline.
Ratchet eagerly complied, glad to be back in the fold. He yearned to be cuddling with Silverline too, indulging in untarnished affection and sparkling chirps. He dearly wished to press his own gratitude into the tiny bot's plating, but he wasn't entitled to that attention and this time he swore he'd remember it.
Besides, he'd have plenty of time to reconnect later.
TODAY IS THE DAY. BE READY.
Silverline stared down at the box by his cot, somber. He had tried to read as quickly as possible, and had gotten through more than half the stack given to him, but there were still stories he hadn't been able to crack open. Would he ever get to read them now?
And his puzzles, was this how Dudley felt when he had to narrow down the amount of toys he brought for every trip? It was a heavy feeling, maybe even a greedy one, to know he'd only finished a single puzzle and would leave entire boxes unsolved.
Lord Megatron might get him more, Silverline tried to cheer himself up with that thought, but it wouldn't be these- his very first gifts of any sort.
Even the sheets on his cot would be missed, thin and cheap though they were. They were a gift given entirely for his comfort, and he had fond memories curled up atop them, dozing under the silent guard of Ironhide or with Jazz whispering the final lines of a chapter in the cozy sunset. He'd never had that kind of care before.
Then there was tiny toy Lord Megatron, Silverline wasn't sure he could leave him behind. He pulled it off the cot to inspect and already he felt reluctantly soothed with the weight of it in his lap.
It cheap toy plane that only truly resembled Lord Megatron in color, meaningless before the real thing. Silverline hugged it to his chest, but this had been Lord Megatron when he'd felt utterly alone, when something in him keened with loss, cried out for the comfort that had never been received in the first place.
"What do you think?" He whispered to the toy, "Do you think you can come along?"
Toy Lord Megatron didn't answer, but Silverline would never know for sure unless he tried to take him. The Autobots wouldn't notice, he didn't like being separate from toy Lord Megatron for too long. Sometimes even Ratchet couldn't chase away the ache of missing Lord Megatron and the grey plane was the only thing that came close to bandaging the wound.
"Wha's got ya lookin' so serious over there?" Jazz asked suddenly, huge face lurching into view.
Silverline squeaked, nearly dropping toy Lord Megatron.
"N-nothing!"
That wouldn't fool anyone, and Jazz was already studying him, critically observing his body language and expression for clues Silverline was desperate to hide.
So he blurted out, "I was just picking what to bring outside."
Jazz mulled over this for a moment, blue optics gleaming. Finally, he shifted into a crouch before Silverline with a downward pinch to his mouth plates.
"I don't think Sam an' Mikaela are comin' today, lil' spark. It's s'posed to be some big Earth holiday today an' they out partyin'."
"He probably knows what the holiday is if you tell him," Ironhide pointed out and Jazz's features lit up.
"Oh, right! Pre-Sparkling Harry pro'lly partied on Independence Day too! Then ya know they'll be busy."
Ironhide grunted, folding his arms as he shot Jazz an impatient look. There must've been a comm message to go along with that look, because Jazz once again switched, energy plummeting as he looked down at Silverline contritely.
"Oh, did ya wanna celebrate too? It won't be what yer used ta, but the humans runnin' 'round this base have got some stuff planned an' me an' Bee could meet up in the city an' get our own things too if you-"
"That's okay, Jazz. It's not a British holiday, I wouldn't know what to do," Silverline interrupted, picking himself up from the box of toys to trot up to the second in command.
"I just wanted to go outside today."
Jazz relaxed and picked himself up with a loud whirr of pistons. He was thoughtful enough to include Silverline in his next comm transmission.
-Reporting; Silverline, Ironhide and I are going outside for some fresh air.-
-Acknowledged,- Prime immediately responded, -If it's just you three be careful not to stray too far while playing, there's been suspicious activity in the state territory neighboring this one.-
Jazz chuckled, sharing a teasing smirk with Silverline, -How far do you think we'll be wandering? I think we can fit a ball game in that spot Bumblebee always takes Sam and Mikaela.-
Silverline stroked the pointed wing of his toy, just where he wanted to be, then.
-We'll be careful, Prime.- Ironhide projected a sigh across his transmission before leaving his post by the entrance to grab Silverline's attention.
"So what do you want to do? Take whatever you want."
Oh, he hadn't decided yet. Silverine gazed back down at the box. He sadly tore his gaze from the books and puzzles and moved to things he could actually bring outside, like the blocks and the ball. He'd only played with the blocks a little, building toy Lord Megaron a throne and sometimes a house. However, the plan would work best with the ball.
He picked up his shredded, pin-pricked baseball and turned back to Jazz and Ironhide.
"Let's go!"
Almost there, his wings shivered in excitement. He was almost there.
Silverline wouldn't get a warning when it happened, Frenzy had explained as carefully as possible- with a scout constantly monitoring for transmissions nearby it was too risky to speak in case the frequency was picked up. He would be in total radio silence until the mission was complete.
"There it goes!" Ironhide warned, lightly tossing the ball like one would a tissue into a wastebasket.
Silverline knew to let it land first, and it struck the soft ground so hard it bounced high again, to Ironhide's torso and far above Silverline's helm. He raced after it, digging his claws into the sand and flaring his wings out behind him for a boost.
He snatched it out of the air, wincing as his digits stabbed into the soft leather and yanked him nearly to his knees by his wrists. He came to a skidding halt, kicking sand and small rocks everywhere. A healthy cloud had already risen from his antics and coated him in a sheet of dirt so thick he looked a solid tan in the light.
Silverline spun back around with a whistle, he sighted both Ironhide and Jazz watching him closely, but with near-matching grins of enjoyment splashed across their faceplates.
He smiled behind his guard and sprinted back to them.
It wouldn't come from the ground, his retriever. Not with Ratchet checking and rechecking regularly on any seismic activity in the area. Sand was easier to sneak through, but there was no way even the smallest mech could close enough without detection. There were no natural caves or underground waterways to sneak by either, they had checked.
"Jazz!" He called, throwing the ball as hard as he could as high as he could throw it up at the silver mech.
Jazz still had to lunge forward to catch it, swooping in with servos outstretched and grabbing it out of the air in one sure swipe. He let out a ha of victory and shot Ironhide a sickly sweet smile.
The mech took one look and was already running, his helm craned backward to keep an eye on his unit superior.
"Nice try," Jazz sang, mostly for Silverline's sake, and then threw the ball much harder than he'd ever dare with Silverline alone. It sailed through the air like a jet, punching right past their dust cloud and soaring far over Ironhide to land in a dune right before the mouth of the base. It was a good quarter of a mile away.
"Fragger!" Ironhide bellowed, not slowing down for a moment as he chased after the fallen baseball.
"Language!" Jazz returned, and then he tipped his helm back and laughed.
This was it.
The dull roar of the noon patrol coming fast overhead drowned out anything else Silverline was hearing. The wind in his audio receptors, the slide of sand over metal, the soft thuds of Ironhide still running for the ball, it was all erased by the scream of an engine rocketing through the sky.
Silverline looked up to watch the jet cross the horizon, a glinting point cleanly bisecting clouds in its wake. He carefully stepped further from Jazz until he was centered directly under the plane's pathway.
On his way to the final position, he plucked his tiny toy Lord Megatron from the sand, brushing him clean and clutching him tightly to himself. He lowered his helm, taking in the desert scenery, the flush of green brush against the yellow, the black smear of Ironhide so determined to get the ball and probably cursing Jazz to high heaven all the while. He looked to Jazz, barely easing from his mirth, helm tipping slowly down with an easy grin fixed firmly in place.
Silverline committed the entirety of it to memory. He didn't want to forget a single moment.
"I'll miss them," He breathed to his toy Lord Megatron, a confession he never thought he'd make the first day he'd been brought to the base.
He would though, he would miss them fiercely. Ratchet's tender touches and even tenderer spark. Ironhide's confidence, the ease in which he'd accepted Silverline and took him underwing. So ready to give and teach. Jazz's dual ability to slice to the heart of matters with unerring accuracy and mellow the atmosphere in turns, his insistence on knowing even the human parts of Silverline.
He would even miss Optimus, though he'd only really liked him a little at the very end of his stay. Silverline knew the Autobot leader had only tried his best for the sparkling, even if he was mean to Decepticons and terrible to speak to at times. There was an awkward kindness there, Silverline had found, a secret pocket of gentleness that had been dedicated to Silverline for longer than he knew.
Bumblebee...Silverline regretted avoiding him so ferociously, for there was little now to reflect on. He suspected there were redeemable qualities under the lies and deceit Bumblebee had already shown. He had a sense of humor that often gelled perfectly with Jazz's. There had to be a truth to his compassion if the two teenagers liked him so much, they were always handled so gently and bonded closely with the mech.
Bumblebee had tried to reach out to Silverline, to support him and take care of him whenever given the opportunity, and so if Silverline couldn't miss the scout, he would miss the potential they'd had to...not avoid each other. He couldn't with confidence say he would like Bumblebee, but his presence wasn't intolerable at all by the end.
Sam and Mikaela, he would also miss. He had never had friends as a human, Dudley had scared off anyone who tried. They were also much older than him and prone to gross kissy stuff, but Harry had soaked up every bit of goofy fun they'd given him. They were good people, quick to accept differences and quicker to pave over them with similarities. Even Major Lennox considered him an alien first and foremost, the two teenagers had clearly found the ten year old part much more endearing.
He didn't think they would miss him too badly, the main purpose of their trips to the base was to hang out with Bumblebee and snoop for information about the Autobots. He hoped they were having a good Independance Day nevertheless.
"Silverline!" Ironhide suddenly cried, terror and fury in equal parts. He had the ball in one fist and had turned back in time, so far away though, it was hard to see his expression.
Silverline knew what he was looking at and didn't bother to track the gaze, instead he looked down at his toy.
Why miss them when there are so many Decepticons you haven't met yet? Lord Megatron might respond.
Or maybe, You won't miss them when you're really here with me. I'm greater than all of them combined and I'll care for you.
"Silverline move!" Jazz screamed, sprinted faster than he'd ever seen, gouging huge scoops of sand from the earth with each step. So close to Silverline, he could identify every shade of panic overtaking the blue of his optics.
You will miss them. They did their best to care for you, it's natural. They'll miss you too. But you're where you belong now, with me. You aren't alone. Hmm, close enough. The ache pulsed within him, he wanted this to be over so badly.
Jazz was swift, but spybots were swifter.
The leopard-shaped Cybertronian, Ravage, tackled Silverline just as silver servos reached out to pull him to safety.
Jazz hit the dirt while the bird-shaped Cybertronian, Laserbeak, barely broke his comrade's fall on wide, straining wings.
All three skimmed the dunes and yellow flowers of the landscape at neckbreak speed, barely dodging cacti and rocks as Silverline spread his own wings in an effort to stabilize the hurtling descent.
A freefall from an unsuspecting patrol jet to very nearly the ground below was no easy feat to recover from.
Ravage tightened his grip, jaws clamped firmly around his thin neck and claws pinning him against the Decepticon's chest. For all that his teeth were jagged and his claws were long, not a single scratch had been placed on Silverline yet.
"Give him back!" Jazz wailed, echoing off every canyon.
Silverline craned his neck to see the mech in alt form speeding behind them, he was kicking off a huge dust cloud and was clearly struggling with small wheels grinding into the sand, but with the engine of an alien robot, he was still keeping up.
No one had fired yet, Frenzy hadn't thought they would either, not when Silverline was the easiest shot to make. Craning his helm a little farther back brought Ironhide into view. He had left the edge of the base and was now hastily scaling the mountainside, cannons spinning madly as he watched them through a viewfinder.
Finally, Laserbeak had stabilized and they were beginning to ascend, lifting off from the hot earth, above bushes and reedy trees, above boulders, they rose steadily, got even faster.
"Tuck your wings," A croak managed against buffeting winds and Silverline quickly pinning his wings to his back the way Ironhide had showed him to cut through currents.
They picked up speed at near frightening levels, Jazz was now much farther behind and gaining scratches at an alarming speed as he plowed single-mindedly through the terrain.
-Silverline!- Prime's transmission suddenly flooded his head, clumsy and rough.
-Silverline don't go back to him, you don't want this! Ignore your programming and think! Megatron isn't what you want him to be!-
-I want to go home!- Silverline snapped back, claws digging into his toy.
-He promised he'd take care of me when no one else did! He- I- I miss him!- A keen erupted from his mouth, the first in a long time. Sadness and confusion and anger boiled inside him, a warble announced the pain piercing his spark. -It hurts.-
Ravage growled low in his chest, Silverline could feel it rumble against the twist of his torso splayed across the cat like a deer mid-kill. It was soothing, closer to Megatron's rumble than he'd heard in a while.
Prime didn't seem to have a comeback to that, it wasn't him that spoke next.
-Of course it hurts, little one.- Ratchet cooed, fear thinning the usual honey of his words. He sounded strung tight, plucked at the seams and Silverline whimpered at the lancing guilt.
-You're distressed, no sparkling should be separated from one they share a parental bond with. You're so young to feel so alone.-
They had now reached the mountaintops and a flock of military planes in formation burst from the clouds to roar aggressively around them.
-I wasn't alone, I had you.- Silverline needed Ratchet to know he hadn't failed, he hadn't been rejected. Silverline needed Lord Megatron, and Ratchet had nothing to do with it. -I'll miss you, Ratchet.-
A burst of static filled his receiver, it could've been an equivalent to a sob, though it was so fragmented Silverline couldn't be sure who it was from.
-Don't go, Silverline. Stay? Stay with me, please!- A pathetic warble was rung from him, Ratchet sounded so sad, so hurt. Silverline never wanted to hurt him.
Silverline couldn't speak, it felt like he was choking on his sorrow, and Ratchet didn't say anything more. After a beat, Prime returned.
He sounded ancient, tired, a forgotten ruin crumbling back into the ground block by block.
-I know you're going into the city, this won't be successful. I hope you can forgive me when we meet again.-
Silverline tried to respond, but his comm unit wasn't picking the Autobots up anymore, they'd finally gone out of range. He wasn't prepared for how much that thought hurt and scared him, they were all gone, for the very first time since he'd escaped the lab.
"Don't try contacting them again, we're going to disappear."Laserbeak croaked again, hugging on to Ravage to make them even more streamline. They rose into the clouds, where it was so cold enough to nip at Silverline, biting at his wires with teeth sharper than Ravage's.
"C-cold," He whispered to Ravage, instinctively seeking out warm and wrapping himself around the cat as best he could.
Ravage carefully shifted his grip on Silverline's throat to press him flush against him, hot ventilations wafting across his gossamer plating. With a grumble, he was suddenly putting off an exponential amount of heat, radiating warmth like a space heater.
Silverline sighed in relief and snuggled as best he could in the uncomfortable position he was in. It wasn't a perfect solution, not after he'd been thoroughly spoiled by Ratchet and the hangar's ring of heaters. His peds were still stinging where they hung limp in Ravage's hold and the plating on his back burned as the main buffer between him and the frigid winds.
Still, Harry grit his denta and didn't complain, he could handle a little pain if it meant the mission was a success.
"Whenever you're fragging ready, Ravage," Laserbeak said thinly and the cat hissed back.
Ravage shifted with a grunt, and a machine gun slide out of socket and clicked into place at his hip. It glinted stormy grey against the dull black of his armor and swiftly aimed to their military escort.
"Wha-" Silverline was cut off by the deafening ratatatat of machine gunfire blasting from what felt like right next to his auditory receptors. It sent his helm ringing as it peppered planes in blinding flashes and instantaneous holes as one went plummeting out of the sky in plumes of violent smoke and another swerved sharply and wobbled to a lower altitude on clipped wings.
Silverline had never heard something so loud in his life, it sent his energon pump on the fritz as electric panic jolted through him.
"Stop!" He yelped when there was a blessed pause, "Please, don't!"
Ravage didn't resume his assault and the remaining planes soared far higher and thinned out, putting a wary distance between them. They hadn't returned fire, but Silverline wasn't sure if humans would care for Prime's alliance if they were being shot out of the sky.
Laserbeak huffed, "What was the point of even bringing you if you aren't going to thin the herd?"
The city skyline was quickly coming into sight, a metallic, glittering lump of skyscrapers and asphalt that danced like a mirage in the heat.
It grew rapidly, engulfing the horizon until Silverline could spot cars and tiny pinprick pedestrians all going in one direction. The military had probably called an evacuation, rushing civilians out of the way before facing them head on.
Sure enough, Ravage hissed again when they spotted a barrier of humvees and huge guns lining the edge of the city, all trained on the approaching trio.
What was more frightening still, was directly behind the barricade. Rows and rows of huge inflatable landing pads lined the streets and sidewalks. Silverline could count at least fifty and marvelled at how prepared the Autobots and military had been for a rescue attempt.
"Oh frag," Laserbeak said, "They've got an idea."
That's when their flight became incredibly erratic as Laserbeak zig-zagged and swooped as randomly as possible, twisting and swerving in jerky lurches that were incredibly effective in tugging Silverline free of Ravage all on their own.
Ravage tightened his hold, squeezing onto Silverline's throat as hard as he dared, his limbs weren't meant to hold weight as they were and he did his best to wrap his paws around Silverline's shoulders without piercing him on his claws.
Silverline whimpered quietly, with every dizzying drop the bottom fell out from his stomach and his head swam. He'd slip a tiny centimeter closer to the ground, his own weight digging Ravage's fangs into the thinnest of his plating directly under his chin. It hurt, he felt sick and shaky and pinched all over.
It still wasn't enough for the snipers to miss their shot.
Crack!
Laserbeak trilled in panic as a bullet clipped the very tips of razor feathers, bending and blasting and nearly ruining what little control he still had of their flight. He flapped hard, nearly smacking Ravage and swooped again.
Crack! Crack!
Silverline shrieked as bullets whizzed by, screaming like they were tearing open the space between atoms and this time striking the club of Ravage's tail.
Ravage roared in fury, temper snapping with an audible ratatatat as his machine gun began firing wildly at the soldiers down below.
Silverline deactivated his optics, rubbery claws nearly dropping toy Lord Megatron as he tried not to look at the sniper who'd been too late to duck back into his humvee. It had only been a short spray of red, if he'd made a noise it hadn't survived the cacophony of gunshots blazing in the sky.
Another sniper took their shot and caught Laserbeak's wing again, this time nearly catching the turbine socketed just before his feathers.
Too close, way too close.
"Hold on tight," Laserbeak warned Ravage and then folded his wings and dove over the barricade as quickly as he could.
With his wings tucked, there was nothing for the snipers to shoot for that wouldn't risk hitting Silverline in the process, but they would be dropping dangerously close to the enemy in order to get across. It was a gamble both cassetticons were praying would succeed.
Silverline screeched, grabbing on to Ravage as tightly as he could with his one free arm. The angle he was in wouldn't support a strong hold, but he was scrabbling for purchase as the asphalt and guns raced up toward him.
It wasn't safe to fire, personnel without rifles had already lowered their sights and were frantically reporting to their superiors about the situation, safely tucked behind their barriers to avoid the machine gunfire.
The snipers shouldn't have fired either, but one did.
Crack!
Ravage howled, he'd barely spotted the muzzle in time to shift his paw further down Silverline's back, but now the bullet had jammed itself into the delicate components that made up the appendage, sending shrapnel across Silverline's back and losing his grip even further as his claws spasmed.
They were clear of the barrier and the still evacuating people were only blocks away, drunk and distracted on Fourth of July celebrations it was difficult to herd a whole city out of the way. Exactly as Lord Megatron predicted.
"Flare your wings, sparkling!" Laserbeak demanded, and spread his own to catch them once more.
It wasn't a complete freefall this time, with forward momentum cushioning the catch of weight on his straining feathers. Still, it was rougher than he expected.
Silverline tried to comply, spreading his delicate wings out to lessen the burden. His back seared, icy cold and flecked with scratches from Ravage's paw. An instinctive part of him wanted to keep his wings flat against himself, protected from damage, but he pushed past it.
They flared their wings in unison and Laserbeak put his all into his turbines to rise as quickly as possible. It worked, they hardly skimmed the roofs of cars before they rightened themselves and began steadily climbing over storefronts and lamp posts.
Now they just had to speed up and get into the crowd of people, it would be effortless to disappear among human chaos and confused officers shepherding them away from bars and lawn parties.
Blocks flew by like leaves, the roar of humvees racing after them were muted and only growing softer. Choppers and jets were still overhead, but they couldn't weave with half the agility of a Decepticon and none of them had the precision of sniperfire.
The mission was nearly over, both cassetticons were exhausted and incredulous they'd even made it this far. They were at the finishing stretch, phase two astoundingly close to completion.
Which is when Silverline finally couldn't hold back a wail.
He'd tried, he really had. He pinched his mouth plates shut and shut down as many urgent pop up alerts as he could, but eventually it hadn't been up to him anymore.
Silverline had done his best to master his new robot voice, but there was a lot he still hadn't managed and one of those things was keeping his own vocal processor from alerting as many people as possible to his status updates. It was a sparkling survival mechanism, Ratchet had explained.
So when the pain was only growing and not dimming, as Ravage's embrace slowly failed and Silverline's frame sank with turbulence, the pressure on his delicate throat increased, like a vice slowly closing in around him.
Silverline could barely ventilate, he'd already received a warning for the poor cooling procedures failing his energon pump and secondary processors. It hurt, it scared him, he wanted to get away and that fearful urge kept getting bigger.
Finally it had grown too great, and Silverline screamed for assistance on tones no human could replicate.
Lord Megatron- he wanted Lord Megatron right then, why was this over? He'd left the safety of the Autobots for Lord Megatron and now he had neither and he so, so alone. People were fighting and getting hurt, he was hurt and he couldn't ventilate someone help him please-
He struggled blindly, latching onto his one final anchor, the toy, and pushing away everything else. His struts swung wildly in midair and Laserbeak rushed to lower them back down toward the city.
"Sparkling," Laserbeak wheezed, "Hush, sparkling, hush. It's almost over!" Ravage was quick to ramp up a purr, following the bird's lead.
But Ravage's paws had finally failed him and with a final heave, Silverline sank himself onto the cat's fangs.
Silverline's distress signal reached new heights, nearly inaudible to human ears and absolutely deafening on a Cybertronians. The sparkling had lost complete control, his terror and pain transcribed in excruciating detail by an automatic hand and suckerpunched into any Cybertronian with a ten mile radius.
Silverline sobbed for relief, completely abandoning his hold on Ravage to scrabble at the Deception's jaws. He was desperate, he wasn't sure how many teeth had pierced his plating, but he knew it was shallow with plenty of room to sink even deeper into him. A trickle of heat seeped down his neck and onto his chest, smearing between him and Ravage as he struggled in Ravage's grip.
Ravage was frozen, utterly terrified. Conflicting programs flooded his system, threatening to overheat him. Sparkling distress protocols flared to life right alongside innate, core responses programmed directly into his mainframe demanding he finish his kill. The spindly creature writhed in his claws, warm succulent Energon seeped onto his tongue, a sparkling needed assistance right that second.
"Drop him," Laserbeak commanded, giving Ravage a merciless shake, "Drop him right now- Slag, Ravage!"
Ravage could only do what his fellow cassetticon said, blindly following the orders to keep his own processors from making a decision. He unlocked his jaws and allowed the sparkling to drop.
Silverline plummeted, sinking like a stone with his wings pulled in as tight as he could get them, curling in on himself as he fell past apartment windows and hurtled toward the street corner below.
The pavement yawned up at him, threatening to swallow the rest of the world, cold and empty where he'd surely smash to pieces mere blocks from a rush of police officers closing off that section of the city.
Silverline deactivated his optics.
Then- a rush, tires squealing, the telltale sound of a Cybertronian folding a thousand different plates to contort themselves into an entirely different shape.
Then the wind no longer blew in his face and he was snatched out of the air by a giant servo. It melted beneath him in the next second and he sank like a rubber duck on a wave, eventually descending onto plush leather seats and thin carpeting.
"Caught you!"
Silverline activated his optics, staring up at a flat grey ceiling. His auditory receptors rang, maybe from the gunfire, maybe from his own screaming, he wasn't sure.
"Sparkling, I need a status report. Why are you distressed?"
He picked himself off the floor on trembling limbs, clutching onto the seats for support. He felt weak and cold, and he still hurt a lot. The new, deep voice coming from all around him sounded echoey and a little too far away.
"I-is that energon? Where are you injured?" The voice ramped up in volume, but Silverline was busy steadying himself on his knees, upper half resting against the seats, energon dribbling little dark stains into the flooring like a broken tap. He wanted to curl up and sleep until he was anywhere else, it felt like he was back in Bumblebee's cab all those weeks ago.
"Sparkling! I need you to answer me! What happened?"
Something was poking against his ped, Silverline slowly dragged his helm down and took in the silver toy plane, a little scorched in areas, but perfectly fine elsewise.
It rose to his chest before Silverline realized he'd picked it up, wrapping his shaking servos around the figurine.
"L-lord Megatron," He whispered.
"What? Affirmative, we're going to Lord Megatron- now I need you to tell me- oh." It was only as they were rolling to a stop that Silverline realized he had been moving.
"Frag it."
The driver's seat window rolled down and Silverline heard an old man's voice crack from outside the car.
"What are you doing? We aren't near finished evacuating, we need to hold the perimeter."
The voice from before spoke again, this time deliberately quieter, and hyper focused to the driver's seat, "My precinct chief's worried about some ranchers not getting the message. I'm gonna roll through the outskirt areas making sure everyone's gone."
The old man made a noise of disgust, "Yer chief's an idiot, a helicopter can do that just as easily."
"Yeah well, we don't have a helicopter."
"Whatever," The old man's voice faded as he moved away, "Just do that and hurry back."
"Yessir." And then they were moving again.
"Ugh, human filth." The voice had returned to normal, coming from every corner of the car.
"Lord Megatron," Silverline repeated, "We're going now?"
"Affirmative! Now please- report. Where are your injuries?" Whatever confidence the mech had gained fooling the human, it had slipped away just as quickly and now there was a quake of stress in his words.
Whatever daze Silverline had stumbled into was easing, he shuttered his optics and carefully considered the other's question.
"My back," He began certainly, twisting to brush his digits over the plating under his wings. Tiny scratches caught at his sensors, fractures in his near non existent armor.
"My neck too," His servo came up to cup the space right under his chin, where Ravage's teeth had slid through him like he still had flesh.
When he pulled his servo away, it came back streaked in energon, "I'm bleeding there," He ventilated shakily.
"What? Primus, I'm not a medic. Frag, frag, I'm not a medic." The nameless Decepticon said, whole frame shuddering with panic.
"Frag frag frag!"
The knowledge that he was almost there and the remaining fog obscuring him from himself kept Silverline from following the Decepticon's lead. He curled his wet servo into a fist and sank back against the seat, toy in his lap.
"It's not deep, I don't think."
"And where were Laserbeak and Ravage during all this?" Was the mech's next question.
"It was right before you caught me, they were shooting at us and Ravage lost his grip."
He shivered, carefully not thinking about what had happened crossing into the city.
"W-where are they now?"
"If they're smart, smuggling themselves out of the city. My job was just to pick you up. If they fall behind, they stay behind."
Silverline twitched as his comm unit starting picking an ongoing transmission.
-line? Silverline can you hear me? Where are you? We got your distress signal I need you to tell me where you are so I can treat you. Silverine? It's Ratchet, tell whoever you're with that I'm a medic. Are you hurt? Are you in pain? I need you to tell me where you are.- Ratchet's words were constant and ragged. Silverline was sorely tempted to constant the medic, to curl up in heated servos and let the pain disappear, even if he wouldn't go to Lord Megatron. At least Ratchet wouldn't sound so heartbroken then.
It would be easy to call the escape a bust and return back to the sheltered safety of the hangar, to have his wounds healed and finish his puzzles. A part of him truly did want to go back, he hadn't left out of a dislike of the Autobots.
He'd already said goodbye, though, and Lord Megatron was waiting for him.
He could finally curl up in Lord Megatron's palm and maybe show him how much he's grown since the dam. Listen to the snarl of the Decepticon's voice and rest in contentment, utterly safe. Silverline would give just about anything for a family, that part of Harry stayed strong and untainted.
"We're in Autobot comm range," Silverline mumbled to the Decepticon, abandoning the seat to curl up on the floor around toy Lord Megatron.
"Ah, I had a plan for that." With a roll and pop, the interior cab shifted subtly. The caged window that had probably belonged to a police car had melted into a cozy console, the seats were even plusher and the police radio scanner shuffled into a humble radio console.
"Get rid of the white stripes and you blend right in with the human herds," The Decepticon bragged, and then they sped up. Silverline didn't bother to look up and find out how fast they were going.
-Silverline? Silverline please answer. Are you alright? We heard your distress call, if you're hurt I need you to come out. Silverline, Megatron wouldn't want you to injure yourself for him. If you're hurt, I'll help you.-
Silverline listened to Ratchet, he was trying very hard to stay calm. However, as the transmission went on, more and more blips and crunched nonsense invaded the mech's message.
Were the Autobots searching the city for him? Where they panicking? Guilt would probably be sitting like a rock in his chest if he weren't so tired.
His neck wound still hadn't stopped bleeding, though the trickle was small enough that he wasn't creating too much of a mess. He'd probably bled more as Harry that time he'd scratched his arm on a rake.
His whole body throbbed like one big bruise, every small hurt converging and overlapping until Silverline couldn't tell exactly what had been damaged during their escape. It hadn't been much, he wasn't scared. It hurt, though, and he'd rather nap through the pain.
It would be easier if the cab were warmer. It was a hot day in the desert, but Silverline wasn't under the burning sun and it was unpleasantly cool on the car floor. He felt like a snake without a perch to sunbathe on.
"Could you make it warmer, please?" He asked, letting his optics deactivate drowsily.
The Decepticon made a frustrated noise, "Sorry, little one. They're probably scanning for unusually high temperatures right now and we can't take that risk. Are you alright? Is this below operational levels?"
Silverline rubbed his face into the thin carpeting, trying to get comfortable.
"It's fwhine, I understand." He sounded subdued even to his own auditory processors.
The mech made another noise, angrier this time. However, just as he said, Silverline would have to go without if they had a prayer of escaping detection.
It would be a long drive at human speeds, the whole planetary rotation most likely. His energon clenched for the sparkling's suffering, it sickened him that the very first sparkling he'd seen in a millennia was bleeding and borderline unresponsive from the stress of removal.
Hatred roared like a fire within, the Autobots and humans would pay for what they'd done to their own charge in the name of keeping him out of Decepticon servos. He swore it on his very spark, once he got the full report from any surviving cassetticons, he'd start hunting down scum and carving his designation into their faceplates.
For now, though, he had a sparkling to care for.
"I haven't received a report yet, is something damaging your vocal processors?" He asked.
Silverline hummed, limp and bouncing with every bump on the road.
"Just tired, I'm fwhine."
That lisp was ridiculously adorable and the Decepticon choked on the overwhelming desire to cuddle and coo over the little seeker. The concern he felt only strengthened the urge to pull over and sooth the sparkling with songs and promises of safety.
He kept driving.
"Alert me if your status changes."
He received another hum, "Okay. I'm Silverline, by the way."
Silverline? Hadn't Lord Megatron referred to his sparkling by some odd clash of noises- Haeree?
He was struck by the ludicrous idea there might be two absolutely impossible sparklings wandering around and was quick to nip that in the bud before he drove himself out of his central processor.
"You're Lord Megatron's, right?"
An affirmative chirp was his answer, and his gunmetal grey toy was really all the backup he needed.
"Greetings, Silverline. I'm Barricade if Frenzy didn't mention me." Knowing the fragger, he probably shrugged that part of the plan off- it had nothing to do with the little spybot's intrusion.
"He didn't. Hi, Barricade."
It lit some uncharted, shadowy part of himself to hear his designation from the tiny, lispy voice of a child. He was struck by the urge to request Silverline repeat it, but the little sparkling was tired.
He put on mellow, quiet human music and added an extra tint to his windows for shading, "Hi, Silverline. Go ahead and power down, I'll rouse you when we're there."
He didn't hear an answer, but the sparkling slumped, the last of his coiled tension draining away as his ventilations slowly evened out. He could still feel the tap of energon dripping into his plating and wished badly for a way to warn Lord Megatron's base beforehand so they could treat him immediately.
But because of Prime and his sorry scrap heap warriors, the tiny child would have to endure.
Next time he saw that scout, he'd pull the rest of his throat out and not just his vocal processors.
"Ratchet, he's not going to answer," Ironhide said gruffly.
Ratchet would probably be furious with him if he were capable, but the mech was too busy ventilating shakily into the palms of his servos and trying not to fall apart, it was horrible to watch. He just stood there, hunched and transmitting to Silverline over and over.
"He needs me," Was all that escaped him.
Prime shot Ironhide a look and he did feel bad, but it was true. After all that scheming and effort there was no way Silverline would make the mistake of alerting their scout to his position. Whoever he'd been in contact with had taught him well.
Speaking of their scout, Ironhide sent him a quick transmission.
-Picking anything up?-
They still had cassetticons to find and interrogate even if they couldn't find Silverline, Bumblebee was racing through empty city streets with his comm unit at the ready in case retrieval request was made.
-Nothing, how about you?-
Ironhide stared down at the sidewalk. They had been searching the streets personally, rapidly scanning through buildings and homes for spikes in thermal energy or signs of break ins. The canvassing hadn't lasted though, they'd all stopped dead upon finding the corner of an innocuous block and couldn't make themselves leave.
The one with a tiny energon stain that practically glowed against the grimy cement.
Was this where Silverline had screamed for help? Had he been shot in the skirmish and cried out for a protector? None of them had the courage to ask aloud.
-We're not doing well. Col. Jacobs is getting camera footage right now but they're probably long gone by now.-
-Primus, this is a disaster.-
Worst-case-scenario as far as Ironhide was concerned. He could handle losing the matrix, he'd be lying if he said the same for losing Silverline to the slimy, aggressive Decepticons, but he'd be functional. Knowing Silverline was hurt without a way to measure how badly? Knowing the Decepticons didn't have a medic on Earth?
It was agonizing.
He stared down at the stain, his bulky plating itched like it was taunting him. All this puffing and posturing and you let a child get hurt in battle, worthless it seemed to say. He didn't have a response.
"We have until nightfall to keep looking, that's when the evacuation will be lifted," Prime announced, he hadn't looked so small since the fall of Cybertron.
"We can search in case they're hiding in the city and if they're not," his optics darted to Ratchet, who had gone to picking compulsively at his worst healed scars, "we have until nightfall."
Shame curdled within him. This wasn't a rescue attempt any longer, as soon as the spybots had separated from Silverline and lost their air support on the streets, the battle had been finished. This was for their sakes, so they could stave off a break down.
Jazz and Lennox rolled up, even the human major seemed affected, white and grim.
"We think they headed west, a cop car was supposed to return from checking on rural neighborhoods and never came back. They're probably headed out of state."
Ratchet shuddered, picking harder at himself, "He needs me. He's hurt."
Ironhide nodded thankfully to the human and went up to his unit's medic. He laid a servo on his gauntlet.
"You're doing it again, Ratchet. Silverline would worry."
Ratchet tore himself away but stopped picking, servos clenched as he glared wildly at Ironhide.
"He should be here! What am I doing here without him? I'm useless so what does it matter if I- he's hurt. He's bleeding, he doesn't have a medic. That's what I'm for and I'm not there!" His words were wracked with self-loathing.
Ironhide didn't tell him he was wrong, though maybe he should've. He felt the exact same way. What was he here for, a weapons specialist and fearsome war veteran, if he wasn't there to protect Silverline? When it was most likely the very troops he'd allied with that had hurt the sparkling?
He'd be a hypocrite to tell Ratchet anything that just came out of his mouth was false when he felt just as pathetic, when Silverline was bleeding and didn't have a bodyguard there to keep him safe.
Jazz felt differently, though. He transformed back into his bipedal form and stomped over to the two mechs.
"Ya'll are both here 'cuz Optimus Prime wanted ya in his personal unit," He snapped, unimpressed.
He didn't look distraught like the rest of them, instead he looked pissed off.
"Ratchet, yer here 'cuz yer the best war medic a mech could ask for with ingenuity an' determination unparalleled. When Silverline returns ya'll need to use those skills to make sure he okay and to finally give him some fraggin' armor."
Ratchet flinched, his optics skimming around the square of cement now as he tried to meet Jazz's gaze, "He's hurt now, though."
"Megatron is a crazy, evil fragger that needs to be put down a thousand cycles ago, but he ain't a complete glitch. He was willin' to give us a safe zone just to make sure Silverline didn't get caught in the crossfire."
"And look how well that turned out," Ironhide couldn't hold back his ugly sneer and Jazz kicked him hard.
"My point is that if he really can't be patched up wherever they holed up, Megatron'll definitely kidnap you. So suck it up and don't damage yourself, yer gonna be needed."
He turned on Ironhide next, practically a mirror image of himself mere days ago when they had both been sulking over frightening Silverline. Jazz was good at handling problems with their sparkling, maybe it helped that he'd fought mostly off-world and away from the sparkling mass deaths.
"And you!"
"I didn't even say anything," Ironhide protested.
Jazz hissed at him, "Don't gotta say it for it to be clear as day on yer ugly mug, now shut up an' listen."
"Yer Prime's weapon specialist- the weapons specialist. One of the most feared Autobots still functionin'. Ya weren't here to protect Silverline but who the frack is gonna help us get him back if yer not here kickin' afts with us? Who's gone protect Silverline fer good this time once we get him back if we don't got you with us? Don't you dare make yo'self less of an asset over this."
"An' you!" Jazz didn't miss a beat, swinging right around to Prime.
Their leader tilted his head curiously, he didn't speak though. He wasn't as good at hiding his sorrow as he seemed to think.
"Ya better not start sinkin' into despair oh so help me, Primus, I'll depose you as fraggin' Autobot leader. Silverline needs you, right now he ain't got anyone but Megatron which is worse than nothin'. We gonna get 'im back, we got bitchin' bots, more resources, and ain't riddled with viruses. If they could do it, we gonna do it better. Get me?"
Prime shuttered his optics, stunned at the bold declaration. He hadn't had someone threaten his authority for half of Earth's lifetime.
Still, his optics softened. He bowed his head, expression morose, "What an inspirational leader you'd be, Jazz."
"Maybe, but I'd kill my rivals so don't frackin' test me, Prime. Get a move on."
Lennox snorted, blowing his position of near invisibility to snicker into the collar of his uniform.
"Sorry, sorry- that was just- I didn't expect that."
"If you have nothing else to do, would you mind asking Jacobs about that security footage? It would be our best bet to gauge why Silverline had given a distress signal," Prime said, a little colder than before, but politely nonetheless. He was definitely the calmest of the Autobot unit, but he wasn't near optimal condition after what had happened to Silverline.
Lennox wiped the smile off his face and gave a nod, "Sure, yeah. I'm on it." He kindly walked away without complaint, straight to the jewelry store across the street where Jacobs was collecting camera footage.
A major with his background would understand the prickliness of a leader with missing charges, and a man with his compassion couldn't hold anything they did against them while Ratchet looked fit to throw himself into the sea. Ironhide felt comfortable letting him retreat to his own thoughts.
Instead, he looked back to Jazz.
"You don't feel like you failed, then?" Ironhide asked impulsively, steeling his spine when Jazz sent him a razor glare. It was only when faced with the full brunt of Jazz's fury that Ironhide could spot the torment blazing within.
"'Course I fraggin' do, I'm second-in-command. Silverline was taken right the frack in front of me while I had my thumbs up my aft, I was a disgrace. He was right there- shit!" He grit his denta, "But Silverline still needs me, he ain't finished all his books yet an' he don't know what kinda bots he just trapped himself with. So I'm gonna tear the wings off'a Laserbeak and then I'm gonna rescue our sparklin' an' bring him back home. That's how I'll make it up."
"Our lowest point," Prime murmured and Jazz's helm shot up, optics blazing.
"Yer damn well right," He growled, "Take a good look, we ain't never gettin' this low again."
Ironhide looked down at the glittery blue stain on the sidewalk, tiny but a mark of failure that fell heavier on him than nearly any before it.
His lowest point. This was it, Ironhide would never let this happen again.
Even if they got Silverline back and a hundred orns from now, he still returned to Megatron- this specifically wasn't going to happen again. Silverline was never going to bleed on a street corner or scream for protection that would never come ever again, not while Ironhide still functioned.
He looked over at Ratchet, still shattered and barely holding on, but he saw something similar in his optics.
They both nodded. This wasn't happening again, they'd do better next time.
"Let's go see if Epps has collected the air force's recordings yet," he suggested, and tugged Ratchet away from the stain.
"We can help more by figuring out what happened in the first place."
"Little one, it's time to wake,"
Silverline grumbled, nosing into the flat scratchy material that had become his bed.
"Silverline, we're here."
A loud whirr rang out and Silverline moved suddenly, shifting as the scratchy stuff fell away and he was being held in what was probably a servo, smooth and articulated. And cold.
He grumbled again and activated his optics blearily, peering up at four red optics placed in an angular black-smudged face.
"We're here?" He echoed, pulling his heavy body into an upright slouch, wings held tight to his stiff back.
No trickle accompanied his movements, so he cautiously took it to mean his bleeding had stopped some time during his sleep. He grimaced at the crusted blue stains on his servos and down chest plate, hopefully he'd get something to wash himself with soon.
"The Decepticon base," Barricade explained slowly.
Silverline sucked in a breath, energon pump ramping up as he looked up from himself to find a crumbling mineshaft in the middle of a slightly different desert sitting before him.
He wasn't sure how far away they were from the Autobots, though it had to have been far considering the sun was near completely sunken beneath the flat horizon. The terrain seemed similar, but America had vast territories that seemed to go on forever.
The only marker to be found was a crooked, rusted sign stabbed into the ground.
DANGER
UNSAFE MINE
STAY OUT
"Lord Megatron's in there?" Silverline couldn't see anything inside, it was just one long shadow that gradually got blacker the deeper it went until it was void of anything else.
Barricade stepped inside, barely clearing the support beams. Silverline sat in the palm of his servo, clutching onto a digit for balance as they walked into the dark mine.
Then, something happened. Maybe a switch was flicked that he didn't see or an automatic process went off upon Barricade's entry. Whatever it was, runway lights flickered to life in the dark, lining the gravel-ridden floor and leading to a door that looked fit for a bank safe. Sparkling and completely untouched by age or dirt, it didn't look like it could even exist in such a downtrodden place.
Silverline stared in awe as the door unlatched itself in an elaborate show of clicks and groans and slowly drifted open for Silverline to look inside.
"Lord Megatron is in there."
Behind the door was a well-lit, sterile hallway, angular in shape and taller than any human would bother building. It dropped in a slope downward, further underground with no signs of stopping.
Silverline leaned forward, lamplike optics wide. He thought he could spot the hint of a figure at the end of the hallway, gunmetal armor blending in well with the patchy steel walling the hideout.
Silverline's spark stopped.
-Lord Megatron?-
-Haeree. Welcome home.-
Ratchet: Time to kill myself :)
Ironhide: That's probably wrong but who am I to argue. Me next!
Prime: If I don't move or speak, maybe the others won't know how badly I want to die right now.
Jazz: How did any of you emotional wrecks get cleared for battle in the first place?
Jazz: Learn to hate yourself and move the hell on, just like the rest of us.
So you guys were really falling in love with Ratchet, and he's a sweetheart for sure. Probably the emotional core of this thing so far, he's so soft with Harry and I love writing their scenes.
Buuut, I also made it clear off the bat that he's got a metric ton of issues with sparklings and a lot of his cuddliness is him barely holding on as a walking talking ptsd nightmare reminds him of his very worst failures, all the while taunting him with a possible addition to that pile of trauma. He loves Harry so much, but he's also terrified of and for him because he knows this is it- that's his last thread of sanity that just waltzed right into Megatron's camp.
So please excuse him when his self control falls off, he's doing his best and the others are holding him together with the rest of their scotch tape.
As for the incredibly dangerous cassetticon rescue- Starscream was supposed to help take out the barricade, but he objected to the murder of a trinemate or whatever. Loser.
So they got shot at, Ravage and Laserbeak did their very best, and Harry still activated his car alarm.