This was inspired because I got into a fight with my best friend in the world over something stupid. It sucks when we fight, it really does. But I think we're okay now—maybe more okay than we were before. The fact is I'd be nowhere without her. I have so much to thank her for, and I hope she's sitting on her butt reading this somewhere. You know I'll never be able to express it with my voice, so here it is in words. Really, truly thank you for all you have done for me. Please stick with me, thanks for putting up with all of my…slag. This one's for you.
And thanks to all my fans who have so supported my writings in the short amount of time I've been posting on this site. It appears my one shots are quite popular… mostly I use them as fillers when I'm in between chapters. And here's something juicy for you all to suck on. Would you believe me if I said I had yet another long story waiting in the wings? Yes, yes, it's quite true. It'll probably wind up a weekly publication with lots of one shots in between. You'll have to wait for New Beginnings to wrap up, however.
Anyway, enough of my blabbing, you're all here for the fic, right? Please enjoy, please review, in that order.
. B E G I N . T R A N S M I S S I O N .
The rec room was filled with its normal, nonsensical babble. It always was. But its regulars noticed that it was a little less noisy, a little less boisterous than was usual. It could have had something to do with the scientist hunched in the corner, having surrendered his normal perch on the couch to younger, more enthusiastic mechs. His Spark thudded dully against his chest, his leader's quiet, angry words still ringing in his audio receptors. He shook his head slightly, but making the internal voice fade didn't erase the pain.
"Jetfire!" Ironhide called from the couch. "C'mere ah sec, ya gotta see this…"
"Nah," Jetfire replied distantly, averting his optics to gaze upon the giant mech leaning against the wall nearby.
Optimus Prime looked fidgety. He looked angry, almost. But his anger came in a different form; a cold shoulder, a silent, writhing fury. He glanced up and narrowed his optics slightly as they met with Jetfire's. Turning his head away, he pushed off the wall and made his way out of the room, his jaw set and determined. Jetfire groaned and lowered his head. Yeah, he'd slagged up. But Primus almighty, he'd never seen his commander so angry…
But really, what can one do when his former best friend is dangling off the edge of a cliff?
It was simply too hard to forget. Starscream had been his best friend. They'd been partners; they'd known each other better than they'd known themselves. If their ideals hadn't changed in so short a time, they'd probably still be close…different, certainly, but close all the same…
So Jetfire had turned back. He'd been given orders to pull out immediately from the Battle at Sector Five's Rift. Sector Five itself was a slagging mess. The planet had undergone partial transformation, and the metallic plates had begun to pull themselves apart. A ricochet blast from Jetfire's firearm had thrown Starscream off balance, and the scientist had very nearly plunged into the planetary rift had it not been for his grabbing the ridge at the very last moment. Jetfire had been full ready to turn away and hightail it outta there—until Starscream cried out for help. And the Autobot had frozen. Torn between his commander and his former friend. Starscream's grip had begun to slacken, his panicked cry filling Jet's Spark with pain; Optimus had paused and turned, his optic ridges lifting slowly, curious to see what his science officer would do.
There had been only one thing to do. For the sake of the good old days, Jetfire had turned back. In full slagging view of his commander, he'd gone back and rescued a Decepticon officer. And then he'd transformed before Optimus could squeeze a word in. Only on the way back had Optimus opened the com link with his friend and spoken the words that had made the scientist's energon chill in his circuits.
"Whose side are you on, Jetfire?" Optimus had asked quietly, his voice far more disappointed than angry.
The disappointment had faded quickly, and anger took its place. Jetfire had disobeyed a direct order to save a Decepticon. A high-ranking, destructive one at that.
Jetfire sighed heavily and stood. This couldn't go on. Optimus's trust meant too much for it all to go down in flames for the sake of that fragger Starscream. The scientist rudely pushed aside a few out-of-place recruits and forced his way out of the recreation room into the quiet halls of headquarters.
He paused, unsure of where to go—Optimus had several "Me time" haunts. He was about to head towards the commander's quarters when a tap on his shoulder made him turn.
"He's on the southern balcony," Elita One said, smiling very slightly and pointing in the opposite direction. "At least, that's where it looked like he was headed when he so rudely shoved me out of the way."
"How'd ya know I was looking for him?" Jetfire asked, bewildered.
Elita shrugged. "He always goes to the southern balcony when he's mad at an officer. Well, when he's mad at Ironhide or Prowl he just sulks in the command center, but they're the only exceptions, I think."
"Where's he go when he's mad at you?"
She lifted an optic ridge and snorted. "My quarters, of course."
Jetfire laughed. "Oh, that's so going into my memo."
She grinned. "Hey, fighting means making up in the end, right? Oh…" her face fell slightly, "that doesn't mean I want to walk into his quarters tonight and find you two in interface or something."
"I'll tell him you said that."
"Good luck," she said, punching his arm lightly. "Let him yell and he'll feel better, I guarantee it."
Jetfire nodded his thanks and took off towards the southern portion of headquarters, wondering if Prime knew just how much his mate knew about him.
Southern balcony
The commander was leaning against the railing encircling the balcony, his palms against the cool steel and his weight upon his arms. The sun had begun to slip below the horizon, casting the Cybertronian sky into a fiery enigma. Desperate to distract his thoughts from Jetfire, he spent a few minutes pondering how Elita was going to react to be pushed aside. But the images that erupted into his probability processor were enough to make him focus on Jetfire again.
Speaking of whom.
"Uh…sir? Can we, uh…"
"Talk?" Prime prompted stiffly. Behind him, Jetfire nodded bashfully, and even though he did not see it Optimus plowed right on ahead. "Alright, Jetfire. Let's talk. You start. What the Pit were you thinking?"
"I…I might not have been thinking at all, sir," Jetfire said quietly, wondering if the steam that appeared to be issuing from his commander's head was reality or simply his cerebral processor being a smart aft. "I…acted irrationally."
"You bet your aft you did," Optimus growled, his hands tightening into fists upon the railing. "Primus almighty, Jetfire, were you glitching or what? One second you're the perfect soldier, following orders and performing like I haven't seen you perform in years…then you're turning around and pulling one of the most dangerous known Decepticons out of a chasm?"
"…He would've fallen into Primus's Spark."
"So let him fall!" Optimus snarled. "Primus knows we'd be slagging better off without him!"
Jetfire bowed his head slightly, his Spark clenching painfully. He knew there was logic in his leader's words, but the thought of his former friend falling into the white-hot core of the planet, to be incinerated into a disembodied pile of shrapnel…he shuddered.
"I don't understand, Jetfire, I don't," Optimus growled, frustrated. "Why? Why would you turn around and save the Pit-spawn who's caused us so much grief? Who's caused you so much pain? Think of what he did to you, Jetfire! Why would you even think about turning back?"
"He asked me for help, Optimus," Jetfire said loudly, stopping the commander's tirade cold. "He asked me for help! What was I supposed to slagging do? Let him fall, you say. Turn him down. Let the poor fragger fall. No…that's wrong, Optimus, Primus almighty it's wrong and you know it!"
"…Watch your tongue, Lieutenant. You're in no position to speak to a commanding officer like that."
Jetfire drew back, anger seething in his mind, but pain writhing in his Spark. Optimus's tone was cold, unforgiving. And he hated it. He'd received it from others today. Ratchet and Jazz had given him the very same cold indifference. At least they'd forgiven him…so why Optimus?
"Try and see this from my point of view, Jetfire," Prime growled, his anger ebbing only slightly as he reined his emotions in, adopting the calmness he was infamous for. "I have always been there for you, have I not? When you were at your most vulnerable, have I not been there to listen to your troubles? Where was Starscream at times like this? Was not Starscream often the very cause of your pain? Yet when I need you, when I need you most, you turn back to Starscream. How can I understand that, Jetfire? What was going through your Pit-slagging mind?!"
"…I was overwhelmed," Jetfire said shakily, bowing his head further. "I thought…I thought Starscream had thrown it all away. I thought it was nothing to him anymore. I was overwhelmed…shocked that he turned to me. I was…" he swallowed hard, "I was happy, sir."
Optimus glanced warily over his shoulder. Jetfire's smaller frame was shaking slightly. The commander sighed and turned to look back out at the view. Autobot City seemed nearly asleep as mechs and femmes alike drifted into recharge, the long day having grated on their nerves just as much as Prime's. With a slight groan, Optimus promptly sat down.
"Sir?" Jetfire said blankly, blinking.
"I need to think," Optimus grunted, taking his optics offline. "Don't talk to me."
Jetfire rolled his optics but waited, dutifully not saying a word. After what seemed like eternity the commander nodded wordlessly and got to his feet, turning to face his comrade.
"I hate fighting with you, Jetfire," the giant mech said, the smile reaching his optics though his mask shielded his lips. "If it's alright with you I'd like very much to throw this one down Unicron's gullet…"
"Yes!" Jetfire crowed, slapping Optimus's extended hand in what must have been a Jet-version of a handshake. "So I'm forgiven?"
"…if you'd be so kind as to take over my shift for me tonight," Prime finished.
Jetfire groaned loudly, his arms dropping to dangle at his sides. "Why?"
Optimus stiffened very slightly and seemed to rather hastily make his way to the door. "Uh, well…Elita, uh, said she wanted to discuss some matters that are…vitally important to…umm…"
Jetfire snickered. "Ya gonna get lucky tonight, Boss?"
Optimus glanced over his shoulder, his optics devious. "You bet your aft I am."
. E N D . T R A N S M I S S I O N .
A little bit of a gag fic on my part, but just at the very end. I love the portrayals I was able to include in this one shot; Jetfire is serious and Optimus is a bad aft. Please review if you find it all necessary. Thank you!
Plenoptic