26. At the Beach

Sunstreaker can count on one hand the number of times he's seen his brother well and truly upset. As he rounds the outcrop and catches his first glimpse of the huddled mech at the end of the little inlet, he thinks that he's going to have to change that statement.

Sideswipe doesn't move. For a long moment, Sunstreaker stands there, staring. He knows that Sideswipe knows he's there. After so long apart, his twin's presence lights up Sunstreaker's processor like a small nuclear detonation. All he can do is stand there and focus on not doing or saying anything stupid. Contrary to popular belief, he knows what he's saying most of the time, he just doesn't care. Other 'bot's feelings are not his concern. This, however… this is different.

"Hey," he says.

Sideswipe doesn't even twitch. And that's when Sunstreaker knows something is really wrong.

Physically, Sideswipe looks fine. A few dents here, a few scratches there. Nothing surprising, considering they had just repelled a Decepticon invasion; beaten them so badly, in fact, that the whole squadron was packing up and running, leaving the small, energon-rich planetoid to the Autobots. Not even he managed to escape unscathed.

It's Sideswipe's body language. It's off, wrong. Sideswipe is the cheerful one, even when he doesn't want to be. It's not in his nature to be small and silent and unmoving and this worries Sunstreaker. He takes a step forward, waiting for his brother to look up and flash that stupid grin of his. When he doesn't, Sunstreaker takes a few more steps until he's standing right in front of the red mech. It's then, when he's that close, that he sees Sideswipe shaking. It's nothing much, just a fine tremor in his hands. It doesn't even rattle his armor. But that doesn't stop Sunstreaker's fuel tank from lurching.

"Bro?" he says.

Sideswipe chuffs quietly. His face is turned away and Sunstreaker can't tell if it's a laugh or a grunt.

Sunstreaker stands for a moment, looking at his brother and trying to decide what to do. He settles on sitting down on the iron outcropping the red twin is huddled against. His legs brush Sideswipe who leans in. Neither twin says anything for a long moment. Nearby, the gray waves of the mercury-sea lap against the shore. They're on the dark side of the planetoid now and it will be another four orns before it revolves again into the weak light of its white dwarf sun.

"It's kind of like home," Sideswipe says.

"Mmm," Sunstreaker says.

Sideswipe leans in a little closer and from that small contact, Sunstreaker feels an unpleasant shock race up his legs. It takes a nano-klik to realize what it is. By then, Sideswipe is pulling away and muttering, "Sorry," and Sunstreaker is left to sit there and watch his brother retreat in on himself. It's one of those rare times that he's distinctly aware of being an ass.

He doesn't give himself time to process what he's doing as he slides down and reaches out and pulls Sideswipe back towards him. This shock is more intense, lasting for a few nano-kliks, and when it has passed Sunstreaker realizes both their fans have kicked on.

Sideswipe again moves to pull away and so Sunstreaker lays his chin on his twin's shoulder. Sideswipe freezes for a moment. Then he lifts one arm—finally uncurling himself—and reaches up to set his hand on his brother's head, just behind his left sensor array.

"Thanks," he says. Sunstreaker is pleased to note that his shaking has stopped.

"Mmm."

It's a cheap substitute and they both know it, but neither says anything.

"You've got oil on your leg," Sideswipe says.

Sunstreaker grunts a response. This close to his brother and he can feel his trickle of amusement. There was a time when being this close to each other meant that one twin's emotions were the other's. Now it's just a feeble wafting across their minds.

"Do you ever…" Sideswipe starts to say. Then, "Do you think things will ever be okay?"

He doesn't add, "between us." He doesn't have to as Sunstreaker starts to automatically withdraw. There's a flash of hurt and disappointment from Sideswipe. Sunstreaker stops and forces himself to ease back down.

Sideswipe utters a small, bitter laugh. "I guess that answers that."

"Shut up," Sunstreaker says and cuffs him on the back of the head.

Sideswipe's dark storm of emotion settles down a little, lighting up in a warm flare of amusement.

"Good to see they've been treating you alright," he says.

Sunstreaker doesn't have to ask what he means by "they." This is the first time the two have seen each other since Sunstreaker was sent off under the command of the ancient derelict known as "Kup."

"I was waiting for them to come back screaming, 'Please! We can't take him anymore!' And then I was going to have to take you and run off to one of those Neutral colonies where we would have to change our names and maybe even our frames and take up mining or smuggling just to keep fuel in our tanks and—"

"How long is this going to go on?"

"Or, you know, I could just run into you on some half-frozen battlefield."

"Hmm."

"So. Smash up some Decepticons? Make some friends? Bring me a souvenir?"

Sunstreaker almost pops him again. He's starting to relax, content to sit there and—finally—feel the resonance of his twin's spark. Sideswipe pats his head and leans back. The two watch the thin waves of the alien sea for some time.

"I'm getting reassigned," Sunstreaker says suddenly.

"Oh?" his brother says and Sunstreaker feels a thin tendril of hope flare up.

"Prowl's unit," he says. That thin tendril fades and dies. "Some meat-bag world out on the edge of the galaxy."

"Huh."

And just as it appeared, the light mood darkens.

"It's just some boring Decepticon-watching. Someone thought they saw Starscream out there."

When Sideswipe shifts, Sunstreaker thinks it's the natural disgust of having that fragger mentioned; all Autobots react the same way to the Air Commander's name. But then, through their dim bond, Sunstreaker senses something else.

"Starscream?" Sideswipe says.

"Yeah."

There's a short, heavy pause. Then Sideswipe says, "Be careful, Sunny."

Sunstreaker starts to pull back, confused and irritated, to ask where he got the bearings to tell him to be careful—as if he were some slagging protoform! Only Sideswipe is already moving away and his hand leaves Sunstreaker's head. He feels the most awful and peculiar sensation of loss. Then his twin is climbing to his feet and reaching down to help him up.

Sunstreaker snorts. "As if I'd want you to help me. Telling me to be careful. At least I don't go leaping onto Seekers screaming that stupid 'Jet Judo' slag."

"Not from what I hear," Sideswipe says.

It takes a moment for Sunstreaker to realize what he's talking about. When he does, he scowls and says, "That was an accident."

"Uh huh."

Sunstreaker is on his feet now. Sideswipe has started walking away and he has to jog the short distance to catch up.

"It was!" he says.

"Whatever you say."

"You're the slagging idiot with a death wish."

"Yup."

"And what kind of name is 'Jet Judo', anyway?"

"You're changing the subject," Sideswipe says.

"Well, we're talking about your stupidity. This counts."

As they make their way up the beach towards base camp, Sunstreaker tries to lose himself in the familiar banter and forget about the anxious look he saw in Sideswipe's optics and the sharp spike of dread he felt right before his brother disengaged their bond.

Hmm. Fifty points to whoever figures out where this is headed (and another fifty not to kill me if you do). Thanks so much for the reviews. They make my world go 'round.

Next chapter: Naive