UPSIDE DOWN
AN: THANK YOU TO GIRAFFECHAN and RAP BEAR for your continued feedback and support! I am humbled and blessed.
AN2: HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO THIS LITTLE FIC! It started out as a few random ideas that quickly spread like wildfire. The fans and yes, even the critics, have been phenomenal! And I'm proud to say that each and every week I get a notification that others are joining this crazy adventure and following me and the fic.
As promised.. here is this week's installment but don't fret, because tomorrow I'll upload the conclusion!
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"Watch where you're walking!" Sunstreaker snarled as Sideswipe bumped into him. The ruby mech was carrying a stack of crates and couldn't see his twin. Both nearly toppled to the ground.
"How about taking a crate or two and helping me instead of yelling!?" Sideswipe snapped in equally foul temper.
"We wouldn't be in this mess had you not provoked Prowl," Sunstreaker growled, taking a crate and kicking his brother in the shin for good measure.
Sideswipe yelped, hopping on one leg and struggling to balance the boxy cargo.
"Hey, my plan would have worked had Blaster not been electrocuted," Sideswipe protested.
"Right," Sunstreaker snorted. "So Prowl volunteers us to do the heavy lifting and help Wheeljack move his lab. Forgetting the fact that we are unstable and hauling around equipment that is just as volatile as the mech who works on them." Sunstreaker sent a glare to Wheeljack was who foreseeing the relocation process. "Two unstable elements make for a very explosive reaction."
"Have you been hanging out with Perceptor?" Sideswipe asked, setting his crate down next to the one Sunstreaker just deposited.
Sunstreaker chose not to reply as several other mechs milled about, moving their burdens to a specific order as Wheeljack instructed. How the mech was able to tell what was being transported among the vast assortment of junk, no one could fathom. Sunstreaker thought it was in a long time coming but why he and Sideswipe had to lift the heaviest machinery was a mystery. There were mechs more suited to the heavy lifting than the Lamborghinis.
"Sideswipe," Ironhide called, motioning the red warrior to him. "Grab that end."
"I'm not grabbing your end," Sideswipe snickered that turned into a sigh as he went to Ironhide to help lift a large framework that was to serve as a kind of bomb shelter for Wheeljack when he was experimenting with explosives.
Actually, anything Wheeljack worked on could be labeled as an explosive. It was safe to say the entire base should be reinforced like the blast shield, which was why everyone was working to assist the transition. The sooner Wheeljack was confined to an area structurally reinforced and encased with a blast shield, the better.
The twins were just grateful their comrades volunteered to help. It would have taken twice as long had they performed all the work themselves.
"Higher," Ironhide barked gruffly to Sideswipe.
Juggling heavy machinery, Sideswipe teetered to compensate for the bulky equipment. Unfortunately, Sideswipe couldn't balance the heavy weight and Ironhide had the machine to drop on his pede. He bellowed out a curse attached to Sideswipe's designation.
Sideswipe staggered with the sudden shift of the devices full weight, and when it hit the ground, the switch activated. The device hummed, emitting an orange glow that encompassed Ironhide and polarized him. Which meant Sideswipe went headfirst into Ironhide's chest plates. Sideswipe's whole body molded to Ironhide, their reds clashing violently and making Sunstreaker cringe.
Wheeljack went running to the duo, assuring them the polarity was short lived and they wouldn't be permanently magnetized together.
Sideswipe squawked and flailed about, looking like he was dirty dancing with Ironhide, who kept barking at the frontliner to stop moving.
Sunstreaker waved off his brother's yelps of assistance and turned to enter the Ark.
So intent on the chaotic, but hilarious scene, Sunstreaker wasn't watching where he was going. A resounding clang echoed in his audios as something heavy and metal collided with his chest. He had the fleeting image of a wide optic Red Alert standing behind a piece of machinery, before the unknown device emitted sparks and exploded in a symphony of color.
The device detonated, throwing Sunstreaker and Red Alert several feet apart.
Sound was removed from existence as the device took its final deep breath before releasing its fury to the heavens. The light shot upwards in a beacon, shimmering in a beautiful mosaic that would have been captured on Sunstreaker's canvas had he been conscious to see it.
When sound fell heavily once again, Ratchet was called out to assist in the assorted injuries, the medic grumbling about his workload and the ingrates who enjoyed their pastime of self harming.
Red Alert and Sunstreaker were immediately rushed to medbay, where Ratchet pried off their chest plating and scanned for damage. Strangely enough, the paint on both chassis was blistered, but the heat didn't penetrate the armor. Internals showed an elevation of five degrees, but it was already being dispelled by internal fans. The damage had only been cosmetic.
A rarity in and of itself.
o-o
The first thing Sunstreaker was aware of was a nagging beep. Several of them in fact. And they all were stationed near his audios with their volume turned to maximum. A burning along his helm signaled he had received cranial damage but he couldn't remember how. He tried to think back, searching memory files for the last time stamp, but things were jumbled too badly to recall. Checking his chronometer, he started, realizing three days had passed.
Primus, what kind of hit did he take to the helm?
No wonder his head hurt and his processor felt like it was scrambled and fried. An alert blinked on his HUD and with trepidation, he gave the command for the file to open.
He could remember his twin in a tangle with Ironhide, their colors clashing horribly. Then there was a whirlwind of gold and white, all jumbled together until nothing but brilliant white filled his vision and he knew no more.
Great.
Something blew up in his face.
Typical.
Wheeljack was involved, so there was a high probability of danger with the pyrotechnic.
Sunstreaker inwardly groaned.
Sideswipe was nearby, Sunstreaker could sense him, though it felt like he was wrapped in a thermal blanket. Sensations were muted, distorted. There was a good chance Ratchet had used a high powered sedative on him, probably to keep him from thrashing. Sunstreaker had a habit of fighting when he was asleep. It was why he never had a berth partner for long. His survival programming during nightmares kept sending them to medbay.
Sunstreaker slowly opened his optics and sure enough, there was the ugly orange ceiling mocking him like a childish pumpkin. He really hated the Ark color scheme. Whoever decorated it had some serious issues with color.
"Come on, Sunny," Sideswipe said, seemingly from far away. "I know you can hear me. It's time to wake up."
Sunstreaker had to shutter his optics several times to get them to focus, details slow to sharpen as a heavy fog lifted from his senses. He turned his head to the left but there was no Sideswipe.
Just a huge monitor beeping a steady line.
Wincing with the effort to move his stiff and sore body, Sunstreaker turned to the right, and found another bank of monitors, these colorful and blinking and showing questionable vitals.
But still no Sideswipe.
Frowning, Sunstreaker tried to lift his head to stare at his feet, but a sharp pain in his neck prevented him from moving too far. A monitor beeped in warning with the motion. It took a few attempts but Sunstreaker was able to lull his head to the right and see past his body.
Still no Sideswipe.
And wait…why was he... white?
Primus! He was a ghost!
A rising tide of fear threaten to pull him back under. If he couldn't see his brother, and his brother couldn't see his wakeful state, and his plating was now white instead of gold, surely he had perished in the explosion?
"Come on, Bro," Sideswipe said, sounding desperate.
Sunstreaker frowned, opening his mouth to answer but then realized, if he was a ghost, his twin couldn't hear him anyway. Of course, Sideswipe couldn't see him, which was probably why Sunstreaker couldn't find him either.
They were now of two different planes. Sunstreaker could hear the gurgle in his vocalizer as it spat static in answer to his brother's pleas.
He really didn't expect it to work.
He just needed to tell his brother he was sorry. He knew Sideswipe couldn't hear him but the words still needed to be said.
Sunstreaker knew he wasn't the easiest mech to live with. No wonder Sideswipe acted up like he did. Sometimes, he was just lonesome. Sunstreaker wanted his twin to know that he was sorry for not being a better brother. That he was sorry for leaving and for the pain Sideswipe was enduring with his loss.
In a last ditch effort to say goodbye, he sent a thrum of affection through the bond, hoping to relay all the regret and love he could. It was a shame they were now separated.
Sunstreaker never thought the day would come.
It wasn't fair.
Sunstreaker felt betrayed. He should have terminated on the battlefield. Not due to one of Wheeljack's errant experiments. There was no honor in that. No glory. No sacrifice to save comrades or his brother.
Merely an unstable mech who played with unstable chemicals and another unstable mech that was the unfortunate recipient of said reactions.
Sunstreaker couldn't believe he clocked out thanks to Wheeljack. He should haunt that mech and teach him a lesson. He was a menace. Sunstreaker always said so.
"Come on, Sunny," Sideswipe repeated. His voice seemed closer now, as if the veil separating them was thinning to allow one last conversation. "It's time to wake up, Bro."
Sunstreaker felt a dull ebb in his chest, knowing it was his spark saying one final farewell. With a heavy conscious, Sunstreaker opened his mouth again and was able to push away the static to speak, though he was certain Sideswipe could not hear his phantom pleas.
"I'm sorry, Sides. Forgive me, Bro."
He knew Sideswipe would appreciate the nickname. He was always using such terms, no matter if it annoyed the subject or not.
Suddenly there was a medical ghost hovering over Sunstreaker's form. He could see Ratchet staring down at him, concerned. Oh, he would have loved to have enough energy to tell the medic how much he appreciated the artful patch jobs, and beautiful symmetry he graced his patients with. If only he wasn't fading so fast.
"It's okay, just relax," Ratchet said, looking between the monitors and Sunstreaker. "You're safe and stable. Just, relax and allow yourself to heal."
"You can see me?" Sunstreaker asked with static filling his vocalizer. His spark skipped happily at the thought of not being dead.
"Yes, I can see you," Ratchet said, narrowing is optics while he pulled out a portable scanner and ran it over Sunstreaker's helm.
"I'm…. not a ghost?" Sunstreaker asked, fearful to hear the answer but something told him he was still in the land of the living.
"No, not a ghost," Ratchet said, eying the readouts. He appeared more worried than usual when dealing with his favorite friendly enemy. "How're you feeling?"
Sunstreaker frowned, staring at Ratchet with an undeterred gaze. He didn't like Ratchet's expression as he looked at the portable monitor. He made to grab the scanner to look at the screen and see the results that troubled the medic, but he pulled up short.
His hands!
They weren't the long, tapered fingers, riddled with scars and buffed to an indecent shine. His fingers were shorter, blunted, dented, scratched, and his arm was plated in white.
Ratchet put down the scanner and grasped Sunstreaker's chin, turning his head so he could look into his optics.
"How are you feeling, Red?"
Sunstreaker frowned.
Ratchet didn't look like he was playing a prank. It wasn't in his nature.
Primus! It couldn't be!
Fearfully he reached up, moving Ratchet's hands so he could examine his helm. Much to his terror, there were no helm fins.
But there were audial horns.
"Slag!" Sunstreaker swore, looking up into Ratchet's face. Ratchet frowned. "Ratchet you aren't going to believe this, but I'm Sunstreaker."
"You suffered a sonic concussion," Ratchet said slowly. "It has destabilized your systems. You are not Sunstreaker. You are Red Alert, head of security."
"I slagging know who I am!" Sunstreaker snapped. Suddenly there was a blooming pain in his processor and his audios filled with sizzling static.
"Try not to excite yourself, Red," Ratchet said gently. The tenderness in his optics didn't suit him.
"Sideswipe?!" Sunstreaker yelled. His voice was stronger now that his anger was building and throwing off the lethargy. "Where are you?"
"I didn't do anything," Sideswipe yelled back, somewhere out of range of Sunstreaker's vision.
"Red, don't excite yourself," Ratchet warned, which only made Sunstreaker angrier.
"Slag it, Ratchet! I'm not Red Alert! I'm Sunstreaker!"
"Bullshit," came Sideswipe's voice. Within a few seconds he was standing beside of Ratchet, gazing down at his brother.
Sunstreaker struggled to pull himself upright, wincing and grunting. Ratchet tried to get the Lambo to lie back down and allow his body to heal before he damaged himself, but Sunstreaker was beyond caring.
Something was slagged up and he wanted answers.
When he was completely upright he let out a gasp. His golden form lay two berths down on the opposite side. The monitors showed his frame still functioned, so why wasn't he IN it?
There was only one way to cut to the chase and alert the other two to the situation without them thinking he was crazy or lying.
"Last week you traced your servo on a canvas I was prepping for the art show in Portland," Sunstreaker said, looking his brother in the optics. "You made it look like a turkey and painted it white and purple and called it Cluck-a-tron."
Sideswipe's optics narrowed. It had only been he and Sunstreaker in the studio that day. It was a good day. Sunstreaker let him paint with him and didn't try to rearrange his transformation seams.
"How would you know that? Do you have cameras set up in the studio?"
"No," Sunstreaker said frustrated, looking down and finding the white frame instead of his normal golden tones. Primus, it was a drab color. "I am Sunstreaker. Whatever blew up, must have switched me and Red Alert. I'm in his body." He pulled a face of disgust, "And believe me, it's dull, bland, and wholly unkempt in here."
Sideswipe's optics narrowed. "Sunny?"
"You sure that's your brother?" Ratchet asked skeptically. Wouldn't be the first time the twins tried to prank him. If he fell for it again, exhausts would be mutilated with the jaws of life.
Sunstreaker frowned, knowing the two weren't believing him, though Sideswipe looked on the fence.
"When we were younglings, you once endured a beating by the Pit Master because you lubricated on a client."
Sideswipe's optics went wide. "Sunny!"
"Yes," Sunstreaker, stuck in Red Alert's body, nodded emphatically. "We've been switched!"
"Slag," Sideswipe sighed.
"Wait, you are Sunstreaker?" Ratchet asked, hoping against hope he didn't have another medical miracle he had to pull off. With the twins, his magic acts were getting more and more complicated.
"Yes!" Sunstreaker snarled. A spark erupted from his helm, making him flinch and rub the side of his head.
"Slag," Ratchet swore, earning twin looks from two Lambos that didn't normally go together. "If you're in Red's body, that means Red is in yours."
Sunstreaker's optics narrowed. He didn't like that idea, not one bit. Red Alert was going to scratch him all over and wouldn't buff his gorgeous body every other hour.
Ratchet went to the inert golden frame and magnetized it to the berth.
"What are you doing?" Sideswipe asked, remembering the code Ratchet imputed for when he pranked someone in med bay later. He'd get the orneriness beat out of him from Ratchet, but it would be hilarious.
"You know Red's history," Ratchet said, checking over the vitals being displayed on the overhead monitor. "I need him to remain calm while I explain things, and then I'll let him up to view his new body."
"It's not his new body!" Sunstreaker yelled, trying to get off the berth and feeling the world spin. He grasped the edges to steady himself. "It's my slagging body and I want it back! It took me millennia to get it looking that way! I'm not having some paranoid nutcase slag it up!"
"Sunny, calm down" Sideswipe said, finding it difficult to look at Red Alert's features when he spoke his brother's designation. "You're sparking."
Sunstreaker opened his mouth to snap at his twin, but a sharp pain through his helm halted his verbal tirade. He hissed, clutching his helm. Sparks kissed his fingertips.
Sideswipe felt a slight burning along his circuitry, starting from his errant spark and traveling along his plating.
"Ratchet, how can I still feel Sunny?" he asked, rubbing his chest plates to soothe the burn.
"Wheeljack's device switched sparks with bodies," Ratchet said, running a diagnostic on Sunstreaker's motionless form. Primus, he looked terminated, if he didn't look so beautifully golden. "The explosion probably transferred their consciousnesses between the two as well. The spark carries our memories and emotions. It's the part that makes us who we are as individuals. All of our memories and emotions are stored in the exact same manner, and it is possible, as evidenced here, that the consciousness can be transferred between frames. We do it when we upgrade into our adult frames. We transfer the spark to the new chamber. Though it's supposed to be impossible after a youngling has had their final upgrade."
"I don't want to downgrade," Sunstreaker spat, glaring at his beautiful body that was now so far away. Primus, the burning pain was getting worse. His vision was starting to distort. He hissed again, grasping his helm tighter.
"Settle down Sunstreaker," Ratchet said, going to the now white sociopath and injecting a sedative into his main line. "You're in Red's body, and his glitch is still present."
"Tell me about it,' Sunstreaker moaned, feeling the pain ease up to a dull throb. Primus, it felt like he had a slow spark ache echoing in his helm. Is this what Red Alert experienced every second of every day? No wonder the mech was a basket case. The pain alone was nauseating.
"Ratchet?" came a feeble, static filled voice from the other side of the ward. Ratchet left his white plated patient to join his golden plated one.
"Red, how are you feeling?" Ratchet asked, keeping the skittish mech calm. Red Alert was always frantic when coming back to consciousness.
Red opened his vents, pulling in cool air over his systems and exhaling a long breath.
"Feels great, whatever you did," Red said. "No burning. No pain. Everything feels….. " Red trailed off, his face going slack. "Primus, why can't I feel the pain and burning? Ratchet, what's happened?"
"Red, I need you to calm down," Ratchet said to the naturally panicky mech. It was weird to see Sunstreaker's golden frame so freaked out.
"One of Wheeljack's devices exploded," Ratchet said slowly, hoping Red Alert would understand through his panicking state.
"Did he destroy my body?" Red asked, fearful.
"No."
Red Alert paused, trying to process what happened. The fact he physically felt fine was unnerving. There were no warnings along his HUD, which only made him panic worse.
"Red, settle down," Ratchet snapped, not wanting to upset the golden Lambo. This was beyond weird. "The device switched your body with Sunstreaker's. You are now inhabiting his frame and he, yours."
Red faltered, optics shuttering a couple of times before narrowing at Ratchet.
"What?"
"The device, it changed the polarity of your bodies, switching your processors and sparks."
Red Alert frowned, still disbelieving.
Ratchet hit the demagnetizing button and grasped the golden arm, lifting it up where Red Alert could see the color. His optics went wide as he took in the golden frame.
A quick scan of systems showed his memory storage, energy absorption, normal pressure in all lines, fully charged systems, and a processing unit that was faster and higher than what he had thought possible.
Structural and neurological integrity was at one hundred percent. Neural conductivity also was at optimal performance. Red Alert took another long draught, reveling in the coolness invading the golden body and no red flags appearing in his HUD for compromised filters and glitched systems.
He felt like he was able to stretch, mentally, inside this new body. It was… freeing. This was how he felt he SHOULD be had he not developed the anomalies that plagued his normal frame.
"Don't get used to it because I'll be wanting that back," Sunstreaker yelled from across the ward.
Red Alert slowly lifted himself up on the berth and looked over to see his white plated body glaring back at him. It was very unsettling, but strangely enough, he didn't feel the full blown desire to scream and panic. It was creepy, but there was no pain or burning of circuits to signal a full blown meltdown. His spark wasn't frantic and seizing in its chamber.
If anything, it was calm and steady.
Was this what it was like to have a normal processor? Is this what a regular operating system felt like?
Red Alert may be reluctant to part with such a pristine treasure.
"You okay?" Sideswipe asked, watching his brother rub his helm.
"I will be," Sunstreaker muttered.
Primus, he felt so…. hot and constricted. Why wasn't his cache dumping like it should and deleting the unnecessary files? Why wasn't he able to piece his thoughts together while they ran chaotically through his mind? It was hard to think when his processor was going in a million different directions and sending his spark into a faster tempo of panic. It was like his processor and spark were competing to see which one would glitch first.
"Aside from the regular glitches, you two aftheads are stable and in good health," Ratchet said returning to the twins and checking the bioelectrical output from the white Lamborghini.
"Burns," Sunstreaker muttered when Ratchet popped an access port on the sparking helm and made an adjustment. Sunstreaker winced and breathed a sigh of relief when the burning sensation lessened. Not by much, but now it was more tolerable.
"Don't overly stress your processor," Ratchet warned, looking Sunstreaker in the optic. "Red's frame is riddled with glitches, and if you try to exert yourself, you'll cause his systems to fail."
Sunstreaker glanced to his golden body and saw the devastated look on his own face.
Primus, this was beyond weird.
"How long until you can fix this?" Sunstreaker asked.
"Wheeljack is already running diagnostics through the main scanner and looking for the blueprints that have went missing since the relocation," Ratchet explained, closing the port.
"You sure he even had blueprints?" Sunstreaker asked, rubbing the plating above his spark chamber.
"He says there is, so he better produce some sort of schematics or he's going to find a screwdriver shoved in a very uncomfortable place."
"Am I free to go?" Red Alert asked. It was odd seeing Sunstreaker's powerful frame looking so timid.
"Yes," Ratchet said, waving toward the door. "Both of you are on restricted duty until this has been resolved. Neither is to do things that they know the other would not appreciate. If you do something to mangle your frames, I will bang out the dents in an extremely violent manner. Am I understood?"
Both Lambos nodded.
"I've already alerted the others about this condition," Ratchet said, still hearing Jazz and Ironhide laugh their axels off over the comm. freq. They were enjoying this little tragic disposition.
"I have duties to attend," Red Alert said, walking from the medbay pain free and unfazed by paranoia and worry for the first time in his adult life.
He entered his security station and found the monitoring duty to be a breeze, his processor not struggling with the constant desire to check for faults and see enemy incursions at every turn. He smiled at the screens and drank some energon that had been left for him by Inferno.
Unfortunately, Sunstreaker wasn't fairing as well in Red Alert's body. He headed to the rec room to refuel, his systems blinking a constant veil like human blood. He was getting tired of seeing the infra red end of the spectrum.
When he got to the dispenser he paused, staring, suddenly imagining it to be laced with poison. His spark pulsed, agreeing with the assessment.
"What's causing your flips?" Sideswipe asked from behind him.
Sunstreaker turned and found his brother rubbing his chest directly over his spark chamber.
"What's wrong?" Sunstreaker asked, fearing the worst. "Are you having a spark attack? Are you picking up on the glitch from this frame?"
"Shut up," Sideswipe snapped, annoyed. "You sound as paranoid as Red!"
"Sorry," Sunstreaker muttered, which was so unlike himself.
Apparently his body wasn't the only thing that was changed. His thought processes and emotional center were off the chart. This is the type of sensation he had when he drank too much high grade and touched high voltage wires.
Is this how Red functioned? With his circuits this scrambled?
The burning came back in a powerful wave, making Sunstreaker wince and teeter. Sideswipe caught him before he could collapse and steered him to a chair. Sunstreaker sat down heavily feeling as if his helm was about to explode.
Primus, there was so much running through his head. It was so jumbled and erratic.
And why wouldn't his spark stop skipping like that? Like it was trying to beat its way out of his chest. He vaguely wondered if it was possible to ding the inside of a spark chamber with the flickering of a spark.
A half cube was placed in his hand by his brother, who helped him tip the contents down his throat. His analyzers sputtered, circuits stalling out like they had been shorted before they hummed in appreciation. The error messages reduced by half. Sunstreaker sagged in the chair, resembling a balloon losing air.
"Sunstreaker, are you okay? Do you need Ratchet?" Bluestreak asked. He had thought it cruel everyone was laughing at the unfortunate turn of events. He couldn't find anything comical with the situation and shuddered to think if he had switched bodies with someone else.
Primus, that would be embarrassing. .. and more than a little awkward.
"I'll be fine," Sunstreaker muttered, keeping his optics closed and rubbing his temples . "Just low systems and needed a boost."
Bluestreak sat down on Sunstreaker's opposite side, his doorwings fanning wide, sensing the erratic spark pulse emanating from the white frame.
Sideswipe groaned, shoulders slumping.
"Bro, I have to go," he said, hearing Prowl cackle over the comms about missed duties and negligence. "Prowl's demanding my skid plates unless I go with Tracks on patrol this evening."
"It's okay. I can stay with him," Bluestreak said, smiling at Sunstreaker though the white mech was still distracted by the throbbing in his helm. "Maybe I can help him polish up. That always makes him feel better."
"I need to lie down," Sunstreaker muttered.
Bluestreak immediately grasped the disembodied frontliner and helped him to his pedes.
"Primus," Sideswipe groaned, face twisting into a look of revulsion. "You have to charge with me tonight. Oh, this is going to be weird and disgusting."
"It's a barrel of laughs from my perspective," Sunstreaker groused, finding the flipping in his spark chamber to be a real nuisance. Primus, his spark wasn't this bad since when he and Sideswipe were younglings, and needed merges to stabilize their lives.
Now?
Well, it would be sickening if they had to merge to stabilize. Sunstreaker wasn't sure he could endure such a thing. It was gross, creepy, and wholly unacceptable.
Sideswipe didn't appear to be to be suffering from the anomaly, but it was only a matter of time before he went out of sync.
"Mech's are going to talk," Sideswipe said, grinning at his brother who didn't see the humor in the situation.
"Who cares?" Sunstreaker muttered. He groaned, doubling over and clutching his midsection. He felt like he was going to purge. "I need to lie down."
"I'll help him," Bluestreak said, latching onto Sunstreaker's borrowed frame to help steady him.
A spark erupted from Sunstreaker's helm, the burning seeping back into his consciousness again. Perhaps if he charged he'd feel better?
"I'll see you later tonight," Sideswipe said, sending an answer to Prowl so the mech would stop griping like a PMS'ing harpy over the comms.
Bluestreak helped steady Sunstreaker to the room he shared with his twin. Normally Sunstreaker would shy away from tactile contact, but he didn't mind the assistance as his perception had him rocking back and forth like a teeter totter.
"You get some rest. I'll buff you up," Bluestreak said, going to the shelf that held Sunstreaker's detailing supplies. When he turned back, Sunstreaker was already charging.
Sideswipe kept a constant check on his twin via comms, Bluestreak supplying a steady stream of updates. The patrol route took half the time as Sideswipe hit the triple digits. He knew he would receive speeding tickets from traffic cameras, but he didn't care. Prowl could kiss his aft. His brother was more important than trolling streets looking for possible Decepticons.
An hour later, Sideswipe plodded down the hall to his quarters. The last leg of the patrol route had been tedious, Tracks providing a constant commentary on the corrosive nature of the organic world as rain turned silt into a gritty sludge. Tracks wisely kept his vocalizer off about Sunstreaker's predicament, lest his patrol partner run him into a guardrail.
When Sideswipe entered his quarters it was to find Bluestreak diligently buffing the white plating.
"How's he doing?" he asked quietly, looking at the calm face that was not his twin.
It felt so surreal to be addressing Red Alert's body. He was used it to shouting and accusing him of things. He had felt some twinges of pain over the bond he share with his twin, but it had lessened. Now he had a low thrum that felt like a giant bass was playing a single note along his spark casing.
"He's been charging since you left,' Bluestreak said, finishing up his polishing job and placing Sunstreaker's supplies back in their proper place. "I've got him as shiny and flawless as I can. You'll have to do his back though. I couldn't get him to turn over."
Sideswipe nodded, his optics tired. "Thanks, Blue."
"No problem," Bluestreak chirped, doorwings fluttering. "I'm down the hall if you need me."
Sideswipe nodded and shut the door behind Bluestreak and turned to look at the inert white frame.
Primus, it was slagging weird to see Red Alert's body on Sunstreaker's berth.
Correction.
It was a nightmare.
Hoping to wake up tomorrow and find the whole thing had been a dream, Sideswipe curled up on his berth and was sound asleep within seconds, his hand resting over his spark chamber.
o-o
-o-o
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