21. Well Shagged

Their first awareness is of each other. They've always been together. They're supposed to be. They are two halves of a whole, individuals, but also a set. They are incomplete unless together.

They're also in pain.

It's been too long. Both know this. It's hard to deny when they can feel the awful tearing between them. It's hard to deny that quiet desperation. Despite the insecurity and the fear there's a very real longing. But beneath that, deeper and unspoken, is another feeling and this can't be put into words. It's a thread of gold. It's warmth. It's concern. It's anger and affection. But mostly, it's whole and the two sink into it, let it seep into the old cracks and gaping holes, soothe the burning and the screaming and the clawing and fill it with calming peace.

It's been too long.

Sunstreaker is the first to online his optics. He's staring up at a familiar ceiling, though it's only when the red and white visage of the medic, Ratchet, fills his vision that he places it. Ratchet looks a little worried and a lot angry, though when he sees that Sunstreaker is online his expression softens.

"How are you feeling?" he says.

Sunstreaker wants to answer but his processor is blank and he can only stare.

This doesn't seem to surprise Ratchet and he nods and says, "Still recovering from it, then. Don't worry. You'll come around."

Sunstreaker is still having a difficult time trying to understand him, understand the words. But then the medic leaves his field of vision and it's back to staring at the ceiling again. He hears other noises, softer noises, nearby. Something warm and comforting is right next to him. There's another mech. This one red and black and silver. Sunstreaker knows his name instantly.

Sideswipe.

Different emotions swirl up at that name: affection, anger, suspicion, irritation, amusement, guilt. But it's nice to be near him. So despite the slight discomfort, Sunstreaker remains where he is, shoulders and hands and legs touching. He finds it's hard to think of that mech, that shell—because that's what it really is, a shell for a presence—as "other." It's very strange to lie there and stare at something that is himself but somehow separate. It doesn't make sense.

He lifts his left hand, the one touching that Other Self, and runs his fingers along the silver hand. It's warm. He can feel the thrumming energy field. He lets his hand drift back down to lie at his side again and the metal of his hand rasps against that of the Other Self.

Clanging. Another voice. Sunstreaker twists his head the other way to see Ratchet talking to a new mech—red like Sideswipe, but without the silver and black. Ratchet doesn't look happy. Red—Ironhide, his processor fills in—doesn't either and he glances over to Sunstreaker. For some reason this seems to make it worse and he quickly looks away.

"Listen, Doc. I don't like this anymore than you, but Prowl's orders are to get them to the brig as soon as they come online," Ironhide is saying.

"I know that," Ratchet says. "This is crazy. Their sparks just stabilized within their individual frames. You can't separate them like this; not now. Do you have any idea what this could do to them? We're talking about irreparable damage!"

Ironhide shrugs. "I'm sorry Doc, but those are my orders."

Ratchet's hands are clenching and unclenching. He's got a scanner in one hand and Sunstreaker wonders whether he would actually hit Ironhide with it. He can see that the medic wants to. For some reason, this makes him want to laugh. But the medic doesn't. He cycles his vents and looks down. Ironhide reaches up and pats him on the shoulder.

"I'll do what I can to make this easier for them," Ironhide says and starts to turn.

Ratchet reaches out and snags the other mech by the arm. When Ironhide turns out of the way, Sunstreaker can see that the medic's face is hard, expression determined.

"Ironhide, you are not taking either of those Autobots anywhere. Maybe later, but right now they're staying right here."

Ironhide opens his mouth but Ratchet plows right over him. "No. I am the Chief Medical Officer on this ship and as such, I can override any other officer in the event of a medical emergency. Those two will die if you remove one of them. So either you go tell Prowl to stuff it up his tailpipe and wait two orns or have him come down here and I will."

Throughout the medic's tirade, Sunstreaker can see the other 'bot's expression go from startled to amused, and by the time Ratchet finishes, the old mech is shaking his head and smiling. He reaches up and peels Ratchet's hand from his arm.

"I always did like you," Ironhide says. "'Stuff it up his tailpipe.' I'm telling him in those words, you hear me?"

The red mech walks over to the door, still chuckling, and heads out. When the door hisses closed, Ratchet turns back towards Sunstreaker and he's scowling.

"Arrogant, pompous, bureaucratic…" he mutters and Sunstreaker knows he's not talking about Ironhide. The medic goes back to fiddling with some spare part or another and Sunstreaker, bored now that the drama has passed, goes back to staring at Sideswipe. Separate them. He feels a twinge of dread. But the med bay is quiet and he's still tired. It's comfortable lying next to Sideswipe. Right now, that's all that matters.

To be continued…

Thanks to Hearts of Eternity for letting me use her spark joining idea, though it's more of a hint than anything. And thank you guys for your wonderful reviews. Also, I've changed the summary just a little to include "Pre-Earth." Most chapters now have a location listed. Hopefully, this will help clear up some confusion.

Next chapter: Obedient