My apologies regarding how long it took me to get this chapter up-real life happened once again. Unfortunately, things are getting busy again with work, and with classes beginning again in August, my updates will likely become much more erratic and spaced apart from here on out. I will say, though, that I will not abandon this story without warning-I'm in it for the long haul, and if that changes, I will certainly post something on here and let you all know. I would like to express my gratitude again for all of the awesome feedback I've gotten on this story, and if there's anything you'd like to see in upcoming chapters, please feel free to request it- if I can incorporate it, I'll try to. Enjoy!
The odd cadence of the newest arrival's vocalizer bothered Switchshade enough to keep him from recharge, despite his processor telling him that worrying in silence in his berthroom was pointless. He continued to listen in, despite knowing that it would likely do him little good, as Wheeljack greeted Lord Prime with respect-at least by a Wrecker's standards. Switchshade forced his trembling servos to lift his chassis from the berth, reaching a sitting position in nearly twice the time it would have taken him if his frame was functioning at peak capacity. Unconsciously, he bared his fangs as he continued to listen to Wheeljack speaking, although the clear joy and excitement in Bulkhead's voice calmed the ex-'Con to a degree.
Switchshade knew even as he attempted to rise to his pedes that this attempt at escaping his berth would be as ill-fated as the last, but he couldn't help but try nonetheless. He managed to make it nearly three steps before the circuits in his knees gave out and he crashed to the floor. Staring down his nasal sensor at the cold metal floor beneath his faceplates, Switchshade had to concede that perhaps Ratchet had had a point when he had commanded berth-rest for several more solar cycles. The black mech weakly crawled back to his berth, and managed to lever himself up into it once more, praying that the Hatchet was too distracted with the base's newest addition to have paid attention to any suspicious activity in Switchshade's berthroom.
He had not turned down his audials, and Lord Prime was speaking now, welcoming Wheeljack with surprising enthusiasm, and Switchshade found himself relaxing against his will to the sound of that deep rumbling voice. The black mech was still uneasy at that sense of wrongness that seemed to accompany Wheeljack's voice, but above nearly all else, Switchshade trusted Lord Prime's judgment. If Optimus trusted Wheeljack, and Bulkhead vouched for him, then perhaps that suspicious whisper in the back of his processor was wrong, for once.
It wasn't wrong. Switchshade tensed, lowering his frame into a light crouch as red optics blazing with rage locked onto false Autobot blue. The black mech growled, a deep rumble in his vocalizer that would not have sounded out of place coming from Ravage, but he dared not move to attack Makeshift. Not yet. Not while Miko dangled helplessly from those wicked servos. To his right, Bulkhead bared his own blunted dentae, the Wrecker's concern for his human clearly the only thing holding him back from crushing the false Wheeljack where he stood. And to think, Switchshade mused darkly, this morning had started so well…
Switchshade had rested for several more earth-hours, his repair nanites finally beginning to successfully integrate the numerous repairs Ratchet had put into place, before a knock on his door startled him out of his half-in-recharge trance. "Come in." he called softly, a small grin making its way across his faceplates when a smirking Cliffjumper peeked in. "Hey 'Shade! Wanna fly the coop and come chill with the rest of us? I'll fend off the doc for a klik or two so you can see something other than these four walls for a bit. Plus, it'll give you a chance to meet Wheeljack. Bulk's already over the moon." The racer grinned, offering a steady servo for Switchshade to lean on as he rose, his frame already much less shaky than it had been earlier in the orn.
Despite his instant acceptance of Cliffjumper's cheerful offer, Switchshade was wary of Ratchet's wrath, especially after the medic's mercy earlier. Still, he was now able to walk with very little assistance, Cliffjumper allowing him to lean on him only to aid in his balance, as the black mech's pedes were much more stable now. "Are you certain this is wise, Cliffjumper?" The red mech grinned. "Nope!"
Ratchet was not happy.
After no little amount of angered medic-shouts and flying wrenches, Switchshade was permitted to proceed to the common area (they had been waylaid in the hallway mere meters from Switchshade's door by the furiously exasperated medic), on the condition that he avoid becoming further damaged by the two Wreckers currently touching up their Lobbing skills in the common area, and that he return to his berth with assistance the moment he began to feel strained. Switchshade was grateful, and clearly Ratchet understood the importance of not feeling trapped, for the 'lecture', as it was, was much tamer than it could have been. Cliffjumper was shocked that his compatriot had gotten off so lightly, for when he had tried a similar stunt in the past, the medic had simply dragged him back to the medbay and stasis-cuffed him to the medi-berth until he was fully recovered. There may have been a wrench or two involved that time, too…
They made it into the common area with no casualties, although Cliffjumper nearly had his helm taken off by a wide throw from Bulkhead just as they emerged from the hall. The racer dodged it neatly, catching Switchshade's arm again an astroclick later, and helping him down to sit next to Bumblebee, the yellow scout already seated near a wall, keeping a careful optic on the three humans by his pedes. Should any stray shots of the lobbing ball strike one of the humans, it would be more than capable of offlining them, and Bumblebee had volunteered to remain beside them just in case. Accidents do happen, after all.
Switchshade nodded in acknowledgement, and Bumblebee smiled good-naturedly, very gently punching the black mech in the shoulder plating. ::You risk Ratchet's wrath, you know. :: Cliffjumper laughed, moving to stand beside Arcee, who lingered near Jack, in case Bumblebee should miss a block. "You don't have to worry about the doc, 'Bee. 'Switch here managed some quite remarkable puppy optics, all things considered, and the Hatchet agreed to let him live… for now." Rafael, Jack, and Bumblebee all chuckled, while Switchshade smiled briefly as his optics wandered over to the Wreckers nearby. Miko, for her part, was quite engaged in her electric guitar, and had offered only a rather manic grin at Cliffjumper and Switchshade when they moved to join the little group.
Lord Prime was nowhere to be seen, but Wheeljack and Bulkhead seemed to have no compunctions as they played quite rambunctiously. Strangely, when Wheeljack turned to glance over the Autobots on the sidelines, his optics stopped on Switchshade, and the Wrecker faltered. His frame froze for only a moment, his shoulderplating tensing tellingly, and Switchshade frowned.
"Hey 'Jackie! What's the matter?" Bulkhead asked immediately, lowering the large ball of twisted metal he had been about to lob back at his old friend as soon as he realized something was off. "Uhh… nothin', Bulk." Wheeljack rolled his shoulders back a bit, moving his optics away through force of will, and offered a smile to Bulkhead that appeared rather forced. "Here, go long!" He turned to run back several paces, and then lifted his servos in clear invitation. That seemed to be enough for Bulkhead, and the Wreckers quickly resumed their game, but the little voice whispering in the back of Switchshade's processor grew a little more insistent.
Ratchet returned shortly thereafter, shooting Cliffjumper, the Wreckers, and then the room at large a dirty look, before moving back to his science station, tinkering with the groundbridge controls again. Bumblebee quietly informed Switchshade that the medic had been doing so before, and had only stopped shortly before Cliffjumper and Switchshade had shown up, inadvertently proving Switchshade's suspicions that the medic had put safeguards into place to alert him when his patient attempted to leave his room.
Miko managed to coax Rafael and Bumblebee into dancing with her; Cliffjumper, Arcee, and Jack were laughing and joking happily nearby; and the Wreckers promptly missed a shot that fell right onto Ratchet's console causing the medic to begin alternately snarling at them and cursing under his breath. Switchshade smiled, at peace to sit quietly and observe the friendly chaos around him, feeling almost… at home, despite the lingering unease regarding Wheeljack. Of course, it couldn't last. Of course, nothing could ever be that simple.
Things had truly begun to go downhill when the Wreckers finally ceased their game, and Wheeljack asked Bulkhead, "So, did you go soft on me, after joining up with Prime? Cause I thought we fought 'Cons, not sat down and had energon with 'em." He gestured brusquely at Switchshade while avoiding the black mech's optics. Across the room, Switchshade looked directly at him, and tilted his helm. Wheeljack flinched. It was minute, and virtually unnoticeable, certainly escaping Bulkhead's notice, but Switchshade caught it, and his dark red optics narrowed.
Bulkhead gave a brief explanation, how Switchshade had turned his backplates on the 'Cons, how he had saved Cliffjumper, and protected the humans. How he was on a sort of… 'probation' with the Autobots, for now. "Interesting…" was Wheeljack's only comment, before he dropped the matter entirely, but Switchshade rose to his pedes, watching very closely when the white, red, and green mech drew near to Ratchet as the medic worked to fix the damage that had just been done.
As Wheeljack complimented Ratchet on his work, everything clicked. That odd tilt of his helm, the slightest lilt in his vocalizer. Tells, tiny and insignificant, but present, that Soundwave had pointed out to his youngling vorns ago while analyzing the recruit Makeshift's abilities. The mech was able to embody anymech at will, hence his designation, and he was extensive in his research before he took on a persona. Still, there were always certain tells that were present, however minor they might be. And yet, when 'Wheeljack' looked at Ratchet out of the corner of his optic, and carried on their conversation, asking with the mildest inflection in his voice, "…somethin' wrong with it?" Switchshade's frame went cold. Makeshift.
Feel free to ignore this-just a quick note and an answer to a few requests I received the last couple of chapters. So, first of all, to any of my readers/reviewers, I apologize that I haven't answered any of your reviews individually. They are all read and greatly appreciated! It's always great to get feedback, and hearing from every one of you is inspiring and encouraging. That said, if you'd like me to reply to your comments/reviews, I have also posted this story on AO3 under the same username, and I do make an effort to reply to every comment there, as the format makes it much easier. Please feel free to check it out over there and leave a comment if you'd like a direct, individual reply to your feedback. If not, please know that every review on here is read and treasured.
Secondly, to the guest who left several reviews requesting a romance for Switchshade, I can honestly say that, at this time, I have no plans to incorporate a romantic plotline (aside from Cliffjumper and Arcee). You suggested Airachnid, but to be honest, I have a very difficult time picturing the two of them together, and even if I was able to make it believable (with them romantically compatible), I do not know if I could convincingly write Switchshade loyal to the Autobots while fraternizing with the enemy (at least in that capacity). I greatly appreciate your feedback and suggestions, but I think I'm going to have to decline this one. Thank you so much for taking the time to read and comment on this story, however, it is greatly appreciated, and I'm glad you're enjoying it!