A Critical Sun
AN: Yes, its been awhile and I'm going to try to upload several chapters this month. I have finished my first erotica novel and will be publishing it within the week. :D Check back on my authors page for updates. :D
I've missed everyone SOOOOOO MUCH! *collective hugs*
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Sideswipe sat, staring at the inert golden form laying on the medical berth. Tubes, hoses, and machinery ran out of the blackened and dented body. Sideswipe could only stare, helpless to aid his twin in recovery. Ratchet said it was all up to Sunstreaker whether or not he woke up. Until Sunstreaker woke up, Sideswipe was left in a cold, empty, vacuum where his twin usually resided.
"How did it all go so wrong?" Sideswipe wondered not for the first.
The Decepticons had started a ruckus and the twins being their natural counteragents, jumped into the fray and kicked some Con aft. It took an errant shot from one of the seekers to ricochet and strike Sunstreaker, blind siding him when he launched an attack on Devastator. Sunstreaker never went for the small enemies. He always targeted those at least twice his size. It made his victory and their termination that much sweeter. But the stray shot had hit a critical junction, sending Sunstreaker skidding along the ground with a hissing of caustic metaphors he learned from Ratchet. Devastator saw the limp golden mech and proceeded to throttle him.
Sideswipe didn't remember jumping the combiners but he knew he did some damage when they broke apart in a daze, smoke using from two as they fell into stasis, their comrades slow to respond. Sideswipe didn't know who he hit or how badly. He just wanted the Cons gone. He preferred termination but if that wasn't possible, then he'd settle for a full retreat. All he wanted to do was get to his brother and stop the pain. He joined his twin and the first thing that entered his processor was how horribly burnt and scratched the golden frame was. His brother surely wouldn't want anyone to see him in such a state. Then Ratchet appeared, ran a scan, and started barking orders for the troops to close ranks and ask for volunteers for energon donation.
Sideswipe thought it odd the medic requested such a thing. Sunstreaker just looked charred and beaten. He was a mess but certainly his injuries weren't as bad as Ratchet was insinuating. His assumptions were proven wrong when they finally were able to move Sunstreaker's body. The ground was soaked several inches deep in energon, Ratchet pulling the golden mech to his side and patching the ruptured hoses that were leaking. Sideswipe offered himself and Ratchet wisely joined the two together, melding the connection hubs and allowing Sideswipe's systems to stabilize his twin. When Sunstreaker's full diagnostic scrolled along his HUD, he felt his intakes stall. It was a lot worse than he thought. Much worse. Sunstreaker was beyond injured. He was broken, in so many ways, Sideswipe vaguely wondered if he could be repaired. The Autobots were determined to help pull him through, Ratchet especially. Jazz joined the twins and after a little splicing of tubes, Ratchet was able to get the special Ops mech patched into Sunstreaker's systems as well. Energon flowed back into his lines, returning the pressure to normal parameters and strengthening his spark beat.
When they returned to the ARK, no one spoke. Sideswipe and Jazz helped usher Sunstreaker into the operating theater while Ratchet prepared for the major surgery. He downed some high grade to charge his systems for an extended period, then drew out several liters of energon from the mechs uninjured and able to donate. To no one's surprise, Prime was first, ordering Ratchet to extract a little more than normal from his lines. By the time Sunstreaker was prepped for surgery, Ratchet had enough biological energon to completely restore the life's blood of twice over. He set the processed energon into the replenishing machine, attaching it to Sunstreaker's main energon line, and began to dissect the melted conglomeration of tubes and hoses. Wires were burnt and twisted, some melted to circuit boards and junctures. Ratchet excavated and replaced, his work as always meticulous.
Of the rest of the crew, there were only a few minor dents and scrapes. Most mechs returned to their duties, allowing their bodies natural immunity to deal with the injuries. Sunstreaker took president. Prowl gathered his reports and Prime answered the call of humans who wanted an update on the Decepticon threat.
Sideswipe was left alone outside of the operating room. Wheeljack and Perceptor were helping Ratchet and under no circumstances was anyone to disturb them. Sideswipe took it upon himself to stand vigil, pacing like a caged animal and only pausing to rest his hand against the door that lead into the operating room and his twin.
After the first two hours of Sideswipe's vigil, Prowl stopped by and gave the exhausted Lamborghini a cube of fuel. Sideswipe barely glanced at the fuel before returning to his pacing, his hand rubbing his chest where his spark pulsed. He couldn't sense his twin. It was a common thing when one was heavily sedated or there was a great distance between them. He knew his brother still lived because his own spark beat steady, though it did falter every few minutes
Prowl left, not that Sideswipe noticed. Every two hours a bot would come to medbay to get an update. And each time, Sideswipe would silently shrug and return to his pacing in front of the door to the operating room. H could hear the occasional clang of metal and violent swear. Somehow, the vulgarity made him feel safe. As long as Ratchet was swearing violently, the world was a happy place of normalcy.
Eighteen hours after Sunstreaker went into the OR, Ratchet, Wheeljack, and Perceptor exited. All three looked exhausted, their optics dark, shoulders drooping.
"We've got him stable," Ratchet informed the red sentry. "It's all up to him now."
Sideswipe walked through a decontamination spray before entering the isolation room at the back of the OR. It was small, barely the size of a closet, but then again, a sterile environment didn't have to be the size of a stadium. There were a bank of machines that were built into the wall, all hooked to various parts of Sunstreaker inert frame.
"I'll just charge a little," Ratchet said, walking to the berth closest to the OR and curling up on its surface. He was unconscious before his optics completely shuttered. Wheeljack and Perceptor faired no better. Both staggered to berths and followed Ratchet's example. Wheeljack was snoring almost immediately.
Sideswipe sat in the small chair that was placed by Sunstreaker's medical berth. There was barely enough room for both bed and chair, but Ratchet knew that the ones who frequented the OR needed the companionable beat of their sparks. The berth and chair were almost mutually exclusive to the twins, with whatever configuration they took.
Sideswipe stared at his brother's lax frame. Now he was just a shell, with the faint echo of a spark beating somewhere in the damaged frame. It had been a long time since either were injured this severely. Usually they could dance their way out of a situation. Fighting was what they were good at. It's all they've ever known.
Sideswipe's first memory of his twin was just after their sparking. He could recall quite clearly, opening his optics for the first time and looking up to their exhausted, yet pleased carrier. When Sideswipe's head lulled to the side, he got the first glimpse of his brother, who stared at him with the same naïve, curious expression. Their sparks were already transmitting emotion. It would take some time before words or memories could be broadcasted. But all they had, being so young, were feelings. Sideswipe instantly felt drawn to his other half, feeling all warm and happy and full of what he later realized was love. Sunstreaker's expression went from curiosity to annoyance and for the first time, his little hand curled into a fist and arched through the air, landing squarely on Sideswipe's olfactory sensor. He had started to cry from the pain and though he didn't understand why, Sunstreaker started to cry as well. Feeling the ache in his own face, Sunstreaker grabbed his brother and pulled him close, both wailing and clutching at each other as if something terrible had befallen them.
Sideswipe gave a small smile at the memory. His brother could be a handful at times. Grouchy. Violent. Moody. Unpredictable. Most artistic types were. And in Sunstreaker's case, the history he shared with his brother afforded him deeper emotional trauma and the need for outlets that didn't include terminating those considered friend and ally.
"You really got scrapped good this time, didn't you, Bro?" Sideswipe asked his unconscious twin.
Ratchet was able to remove the damaged pieces and many circuits and hoses had been replaced, shining as brand new. They looked out of place to the bloodied and discolored armor. Though Sunstreaker was unconscious, it didn't mean he'd want to be seen as being less than his utmost best.
Sideswipe removed a buffing clothe from subspace and starting at Sunstreaker's pedes, began to remove the dirty and smudges on the golden plating. Sunstreaker would never allow anyone to see him so filthy. Cleaning his brother was the least Sideswipe could do. He really did put his brother through he Pit with all his jokes and pranks. Not one to delve too deeply into emotions and motives, Sideswipe did feel a pang of remorse.
Sunstreaker didn't deserve half of what Sideswipe put him through. His bad moods were usually directly proportionate to Sideswipe pranks and schemes. Perhaps if Sideswipe lay off the jocularity for awhile, his brother could return to being the kind caring bot he used to know when they were younglings.
Sideswipe avoided the junctures were tubes lead into Sunstreaker. He was careful to keep the soft cottony fabric away from any exposed wire. Sideswipe learned the hard way that human cleaning clothes didn't mix well with high voltage. He had caught himself on fire many times until he realized that little fluke.
Up Sunstreaker's calves Sideswipe worked, first one leg, then the next. He knew the date and identity of every scar on his brother. The left knee had first been blown out when Sunstreaker thought he wanted to try stunt driving. He had watched hours of holovids, practiced on holodecks, and had his systems augmented to sustain heavy jolts and fast transformations. All that preparation... and as soon as Sunstreaker hit the spotlight for amateur night, he ran into a wall. Head on. He claimed the lights had blinded him but Sideswipe knew the crowd had caused his brother to freeze. He had sensed Sunstreaker's panic before he went careening off into the stone wall.
The four inch weld scar along the inner thigh plate on the right leg had been the most critical hit the golden twin had ever taken in the arena. He had fought viciously, losing himself in the heat of the moment. He was quite beautiful when he was angry and Sideswipe must admit, his brother embodied death in golden form. He was beautiful and deadly. A wicked combination. No wonder Sunstreaker insisted they take Lamborghini alt modes.
The scar was a lasting reminder of the crippling injury that had been sustained by the only mech to ever defeat Sunstreaker in the arena. Megatron. A lucky strike had cut the fuel line for Sunstreaker's pede and leg. The blade had almost completely severed the appendage. Error messages had turned Sunstreaker's vision to red as his systems started to fail. He would have been terminated had Megatron not cheated and transformed his arm into a fusion cannon.
Firearms were banned from the arena, the owners believing that hand to hand was the only honorable, and more profitable, form of battle. Megatron had been immediately disqualified and the crowd turned against him, ending the match as guards rushed the roaring gladiator who was able to get two shots into the golden frame before being subdued. Sunstreaker's right side had taken the heavy weapon's fire directly and required an extensive recovery period, to which he enjoyed. Their handler had been given a hefty sum of credits from the handler who was responsible for Megatron's cheating. The fine was split between the injured party and the mech hosting the tournament. Word had it that the handler had also lost all his assets and became the very thing he promoted, sold into the slave pits to train for public sport.
Sideswipe worked on in silence. Sunstreaker's golden chassis was blackened and covered in weld marks, requiring delicate strokes of the clothe to remove the charred coloration. Ratchet had removed most of the plating to be cleaned and possibly repaired later.
Sunstreaker was stripped to his protoform from the waist up, and Sideswipe felt his tanks churn when he saw the many scars.
They were all because of him.
He felt shame every time he saw how badly damaged Sunstreaker's body was. Sideswipe could take the beatings and the punishments from raging owners, but his brother never should have endured the trials of the arena just because Sideswipe had made the big mistake of placing a bet he couldn't cover. Before he could sell off his business and liquidate all assets, he had been enslaved. When Sunstreaker showed up with all of his wealth to buy his brother's freedom, the sneaky loan shark mech had taken Sunstreaker's credits and then claimed the golden frame as part of the set. The twins woke up to having slave coding and shock collars, and the brand of their new 'master' forever etched upon their protoforms. The only solace Sideswipe felt was that after all the years and hundreds of injuries, both were nearly free of the mark. Battle had erased what a greedy mech imprinted as his own.
Sideswipe smirked, remembering how it felt when the arena fell and he was able to get his servos on their 'masters' throat. Oh, it had been a glorious kill. One Sideswipe didn't need the roaring approval from the crowd to execute. Once freed, the twins sought shelter in the outside world for the first time in several vorns. Half starved and peddling what they could for rations, they heard the impassioned speeches of Megatron and Prime. It didn't take them long to realize who was truthful and who was just a bully in the guise of equality and leadership, lying through his vents to gain the numbers he needed to bolster himself into a high position of power.
The twins immediately found an Autobot camp and signed on, knowing the gentle minded Prime wouldn't be a match against the former gladiator. Sunstreaker had every intention of taking Megatron out and even after all this time, he still plotted Megatron's downfall.
Several hours passed. Sideswipe worked in silence, stealing the occasional glance to his twin. He wasn't even aware someone else was in the room until a cube appeared beneath his gaze as he hovered around Sunstreaker's helm. He looked up and found Prime holding the glowing fuel expectantly.
"You need to refuel," Prime said in his ever so gentle voice. "It's been over twelve hours since you last refueled."
"Has it been that long?" Sideswipe asked, standing up and feeling a crick in his back from being bent over for such an extended period.
"Ratchet is still out but Wheeljack and Perceptor have refueled and returned to their quarters."
"Ratchet still out there, huh?" Sideswipe asked though he knew it was a moot question. Ratchet rarely left the side of his patients. He was probably still passed out on the berth just outside the isolation room.
"His dedication is understandable," Prime said with a smile. He knew the medic may curse and blister paint but the twins were his favorite patients. They could take a beating while healing. That was a rare combination.
Sideswipe took the offered cube and downed its contents in three gulps before handing it back to the Autobot leader. Prime placed it in his subspace and made a note to remove it later. He was notorious for forgetting what he stored and often had to have his pockets cleaned by a very pissed off Ratchet who had to reset the parameters.
"Sunstreaker is looking almost completely normal."
Sideswipe smiled, looking at the polished plating. There were a few pieces missing, but Sunstreaker still looked good. How his brother was able to look so gorgeous while hovering on deaths door, Sideswipe couldn't even guess. His brother was a mystery He glanced to the monitors and found that all of Sunstreaker's vitals were stable and the most important ones were already showing improvement Even unconscious Sunstreaker wanted to hurry up and heal. He knew the white demon that would be haunting his waking hours while in the medbay. That was enough to make repair nanites do double duty.
"He's a strong slagger," Sideswipe grinned, turning back to Prime.
"Yes, he is that," Prime said softly. He noted Sideswipe's drooping shoulders and jerked his head toward the exit. "You get some charge and I'll stay with him awhile."
"That's not really necessary," Sideswipe sputtered, suddenly feeling very nervous around his leader. It still surprised him every time Prime opted to stay with an injured soldier. Surely no other Prime had done such a thing.
"Nonsense," Prime said using his authoritative voice that meant he was going to be obeyed or skid plates were going to be blistered. "You are exhausted. You have been up over thirty hours, after fighting in a physically and mentally exhausting battle and have yet to charge. Now, go get some rest and I will look after your brother." His expression turned stony when he noted Sideswipe's preparation for a verbal rebuke. "That is an order, Sideswipe. Now."
Sideswipe felt his resolve disappear. How could the mech do that to him? One harsh command and Sideswipe would cower like a naughty youngling. Never in all his existence had he ever been so stricken to hear a voice disappointed or cross with him.
"Yes, sir" Sideswipe uttered. He had been ignoring his warnings for shut down and alerts for recharge. With a defeated shuffle he slouched out of the room.
Optimus seated himself on the chair by Sunstreaker's helm, having to shift around to make himself comfortable in the tight confines and settled down to finish his datapads. Five minutes had barely passed when Red Alert interrupted his work.
'Prime, Sir,' Red alert was always formal.
'Go ahead, Red Alert,' Prime said, hoping that there wasn't another Con incursion. Most of his team was battered and he was doubtful of their safe return in such conditions.
'Just wanted to alert you that Sideswipe is charging in med bay,' Red Alert announced. Prime thought that was understandable until Red Alert continued, 'He's curled up on a berth with Ratchet. They charging together just outside of the isolation ward.'
Prime snickered, knowing Sideswipe would remain close by. And since his twin was still in such a compromised state, Sideswipe sought an alternative. He was used to having his brother nearby, sensing his spark. It was only Ratchet's rotten luck that garnered him an unwanted berth partner, but he would have to deal with being a surrogate. Sideswipe needed another spark nearby to calm his own and until Sunstreaker was healed, Sideswipe would be bunking with anyone who didn't have their door locked. The mech was like a lonely and lost puppy at times.
'Understood, Red Alert. Please alert the crew that Ratchet is still currently charging and that the med bay is off limits save life threatening injuries.'
"Yes, Sir,' Red Alert confirmed. 'Wheeljack has already retired to his quarters so there shouldn't be anything life threatening. I shall inform all crew members. Red Alert out.'
Prime smirked, returning to his work, leaning close to where Sunstreaker lay unconscious. If Sideswipe needed another spark to feel safe, then it only stood to reason Sunstreaker would need the same form of comfort. Prime made sure the golden warrior could sense his spark. After all, he couldn't let either one of his best soldiers down.
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All errors are Wheeljacks as he has been 'assisting' me with my literary workload. :D
