Chapter Seventeen: Brother

Sideswipe hurts. His chest, his spark, everything hurts. He rocks side to side. Wind rushes past. He can hear the low growl of an engine and the roar of wind. Something nags at him. Something is very wrong.

He looks up. His optic won't focus at first. Everything is a dark blur. He can see stars. He's looking at the sky.

What? he thinks.

He's lying on his back on something moving; he can feel the sway beneath him. He knows the sensation of tires on asphalt. He also knows what it feels like to be tied down. His arms don't move. Something holds him, something that rattles. He tries to look but he can't see that far and he's moving and—

Sideswipe bucks. The transport he's lying on rocks; one side of it leaves the ground. Agony rips through him and he doesn't care.

A glint of silver. A familiar shape pulls alongside.

((S-d-sw-p?)) it comms.

He recognizes it. The human, Hunter.

Sideswipe kicks. One of his legs slips free. The transport shakes and swerves. He hears human swearing.

((—no! –ta calm—!))

He needs out! He needs off this thing right now!

Tires squeal. An engine sputters and they begin to slow. Sideswipe thrashes harder.

"Sideswipe!" the human says, out loud this time. "Stop it! You're gonna flip the truck!"

It doesn't matter. All that matters is that they stop, they get him off this thing.

They're moving down, slowing. It's darker here. He's almost got his arm free. His heel flails and then hits the ground. Sparks fly. He doesn't feel it.

"Simmons!" the human says.

The engine grates and the brakes whine.

His bindings loosen. He wriggles his right arm—his left isn't working and he has no time to figure out why. His hand is free. He fumbles with the thing, a chain, feels it unhook, feels it rattle and slither across his frame and then Sideswipe is up, pushing himself off and away—

He hits the ground. His vision flashes as he rolls: dark pavement, green vegetation, dark sky, his armor screeching. He finally stops, lying on his side in the grass.

Transformation cogs whir. Silver armor breaks apart and spins around as Hunter rises to his feet. Sideswipe starts to crawl.

"Sideswipe, calm down, it's okay! We're stopped!"

He makes it a few metras before his one, functioning arm gives out. Sideswipe collapses onto his face, shivering. For a klik, his audios fade out. The world falls silent.

"—swipe? Can you hear me? Shit, I think he's—no, no, I know. I can hear them, too, Simmons."

Hunter is crouched beside him. One of his hands is on Sideswipe's shoulder. Somewhere behind him a door creaks and two, tiny feet hit the pavement.

"What the hell was that? In case you haven't noticed, kid, we've still got the entire Detroit police force out looking for us."

"I know. Just… just help me get him back up there."

He can't get back up. His body won't respond. He tries again. Hunter must see something because Sideswipe feels him lean in. The heat of his vents brush along Sideswipe's helm.

"Sideswipe?" he says.

His chest really hurts. A distant pain hovers. He can sense it lurking, waiting, just beyond the cold ache.

Sunny.

The planet stops spinning. A beat of silence and then he's consumed in a roar of noise: the distant drone of helicopters, the warbling wail of emergency vehicles, hydraulics in Hunter's legs as he crouches there and the soft breathing of a human nearby. Some kind of insect creaks. Organic plants rustle in the wind. He can feel it beneath him, tickling along his armor and the gaping wound in his chest.

Above it all, one piece of knowledge burns in his mind: his brother isn't here. Sunstreaker isn't here.

"Sunny," he says.

He can feel Hunter still.

He's got to get up. He's got to go. He's got to find him, get him, get Sunstreaker. He drags his arm up, his body screaming at him. His vision blurs.

"Hey, hey," Hunter says. He grabs Sideswipe's shoulder again. "Be careful. You're really chewed up."

"Sunny," Sideswipe says. "Where…?"

Hunter doesn't answer right away. His fingers tighten. Then he says, "Here, let me help."

He carefully rolls Sideswipe onto his back. Even that hurts.

"Jesus," Hunter says. "Your chest… you shouldn't be moving."

His wounds don't matter. Sideswipe shoves the pain away and tries to sit up. Hunter is instantly there, pushing him back down.

"No," he says. "I'm serious. When you move, that shifts around. You're… you're bleeding all over the place."

"Where's Sunny?" Sideswipe says. He can't turn his head much. He can only see the barest sliver of his surroundings: the grass, the trees, a large, black transport. No Sunny. Just the silver imitation.

"Hunter," he says. "Where is Sunstreaker?"

He's on his back, so he can see the way the human flinches, the way he avoids looking at him.

"No," Sideswipe says. "No, no, no."

"I'm sorry," Hunter says. "There was nothing I could do."

No, no, no. That's not… it can't…no.

As if thinking it makes it true. Because it can't be true. Sunny can't not be there.

"I," the human says. "The building came down. We had to leave. You got… part of him."

Sideswipe's left arm. The human hasn't looked at it once. Sideswipe forces his head up. There's something there, nestled between his arm and his chest. It's too dark and his optic is too slagged to see it very well. He drags his right arm across his chest and brushes torn fingertips along it. A familiar shape catches his eye.

A pointed tip. The bottom half is gone, the edges smooth and melted, but he still recognizes the top half of a stupid, oversized sensor array.

He can't stop the small noise from leaving him.

The face is cracked, a half-slagged mess of ruined metal. The lower jaw is gone, the optics blackened holes. It stinks of burnt ozone and fried wiring. It's still and dark and cold.

Sunny's head is destroyed.

"I'm sorry," Hunter says.

"You left him?" Sideswipe says.

"There wasn't anything to leave. I scanned for him. I did. There wasn't anything else in that wreckage."

Sideswipe wheezes. He clutches his brother's head to his chest.

"How could you leave him?" he says.

Hunter tilts his head down, hiding his optics. "Sideswipe, he was already gone. You were freaking out. If I hadn't gotten you out of there…"

"Then you should have left me."

The human's head whips back as if he's been punched.

"Sideswipe—" he says.

"No. You stupid little organic! We have to go back. Take me back!"

For a long moment, the silver fake doesn't move, doesn't respond, just stares.

"I can't," Hunter says.

"The frag you can't! Get up, get me back on that thing. You take me back right now."

"Sideswipe, if we do that they'll catch you. There were people all over that place. We barely got away and half the city is looking for us. If you go back they're not gonna ask questions, they're gonna shoot you."

"I don't care. I'm not leaving him."

The human makes a noise as if to speak and stops. He looks back over his shoulder. "I don't think you're thinking clearly. I… I know how hard this is—"

"The slag do you know?" Sideswipe says. "You're some insignificant squishy. You don't know a thing."

Even with a rigid face, incapable of making an expression, Hunter's optics seem to burn.

"I know you're being an idiot," he says.

"Do you?"

"Yeah, I do. There wasn't anything you could have done to save him. I saw him before you even got there. He was half-dead then. There wasn't a damn thing you or I or anybody could have done."

"Shut up."

"No."

He trembles. His chest burns, the edges of the incision throb, dull and ugly. He can hear his internals puttering. That doesn't stop him from forcing himself up, onto an elbow.

"Shut up or I'll make you," he says.

The human makes a strange noise. "Have you seen yourself? You wouldn't be able to squash a rat right now."

"Human—"

"Robot."

His vision blurs. He fights the violent tremors in his arm and the awful sensation of the edges of his wound grating together.

"I can't leave him," Sideswipe says. "I have to save him."

"You're not gonna save anything going back. You'll only get killed."

"I have to try."

"Sideswipe, he's gone."

"No. He's not. I would… I would… I—"

He can't keep it up. His arm collapses and he falls back. A jolt of agony lances through him and the world stops existing. When it comes back it greets Sideswipe with the peculiar sensation of choking on his own fluids.

"—you hear me? Sideswipe?"

Hunter's face is centi-metras away.

"Shit. Simmons!"

"What?"

"Get over here!"

"I come up to his thigh, in case you haven't noticed. Gonna be hard to—"

Sideswipe wrenches himself onto his side. Something inside creaks. Something else shifts. Cool liquid trickles out of his chest.

"We've gotta get you back," Hunter says.

Sideswipe doesn't answer. Sunny's head presses into his side. He aches and it's not just his injuries. This is more, this is worse. This is him calling for a presence that isn't going to answer. He's never going to answer because what exists of Sunstreaker is buried under tons of debris and if he isn't dead yet, he will be and Sideswipe can't stop it.

He's failed.

Hunter asks him something. He ignores it. It doesn't matter. All that matters is the lump of metal and the dark thing curled around his spark, the slithering, growing thing inside him that waits to swallow him.

Let it, he thinks.

He pulls his legs up. He wants to curl up until there's nothing left. He wants the pain to go away. He wants it to stop, let it all stop. He's too tired. The war, Decepticons, the Headmasters, let all the rage and pain go away. Stop existing.

"Sideswipe?" Hunter says.

Sideswipe can barely hear him. He doesn't move. He can't. If he just lies there the numbness will spread and everything will go away.

"Come on, Sideswipe. Snap out of it."

He's failed. He's come all this way and now it's going to end and there's nothing he can do. Better to lie there and let the cold thing eat him.

"This isn't you," Hunter says.

But it is. It really is. The human just doesn't know it.

"Come on, you can't give up. Not now."

Can't I?

It wouldn't be the first time. Oh, he'd kept that his little secret. It was easy enough to bitch and gripe and pass the blame along but it had been his burden to bear and he's never forgotten that. And now…

"'S my fault," he says.

"No it not," Hunter says.

"It is."

"They had a hundred people there. You couldn't—"

"Not Machination. Me. I'm the reason Sunny was here. 'S my fault. I wanted him gone."

"Sideswipe—"

"Everything was messed up," Sideswipe says. "Sunny was messed up. He was a 'con, before, did you know that? But even they couldn't stand him. Afterward… after we got him back, I thought I could make it better. I'd fix him; we'd be like we used to be. And the more I tried, the worse he got and I was so sick of it.

"Everywhere we went, everything we did. He was always on guard, always looking for a fight. He didn't get along with anyone—not even me. Not anymore. And it just… I wanted it to end."

A truck whooshes on the road. Hunter doesn't say anything, doesn't move. Even Simmons has stopped fidgeting.

"You know what I thought when I'd heard he'd been taken? The first thing that came to my mind? I thought, 'Finally. Maybe someone'll teach him a lesson.' What kind of brother does that?"

"Sideswipe," Hunter says, his voice hushed, "no one's perfect. I… I only knew him for a few weeks and even I could tell he was a difficult guy. No one can blame you for wanting a break. I… everyone cracks."

"I wanted him gone," Sideswipe says. "I let them take him. I let them reassign him, away from me. I didn't even try to fight it. I should have. I should have been there, should have protected him."

Sideswipe shivers. His armor rattles.

"Sunny didn't have anyone," he says. "No one wanted anything to do with him. It was my job, he was my responsibility. We're twins; he's part of me. And I abandoned him. When he needed me most, I wasn't there. I left him to rust and no one came to help him except you. I was too late."

"It's not your fault," Hunter says.

"Isn't it? If I hadn't let him leave then he wouldn't have come here. None of this would have happened."

There's a long pause. Bugs chirp. Then, in an almost timid voice, Hunter says, "But Machination would still be here. And I'm not… I'm not saying that I'm glad. I wish they hadn't caught anyone. But if it hadn't been him, if he didn't have you, then I wouldn't be here talking to you, I'd be pieces in a lab somewhere. And maybe no one would have stopped them. Maybe they'd have their army. And, Christ, I'm sorry. I messed up, too. I told him, I promised him that I'd get help, get him out of there."

Sideswipe can't stop the hysterical giggle from spilling out. "I guess that means we're both losers, huh?"

"Please, Sideswipe, please don't give up now. If you do then the only other person I've got is some psycho with a badge—"

"Thank you," Simmons says.

"You can't leave me with him."

His fingers curl around his twin's head. That small movement is exhausting. Hunter kneels next to him. Flickering neon light reflects off his armor.

"Please," he says. "I know this is hard. I do. But if you give up now, it's over. They win."

He's trying to help. Sideswipe knows this. Hunter had dragged his aft out of that building and that was after Sideswipe had ditched him. He's got scuff marks and scratches, a series of indentations on his face that Sideswipe knows match his own fingers. The human hadn't gotten him out of there easily.

He doesn't know it, and Sideswipe will never tell him, but right then, at this moment, he reminds Sideswipe of his brother so much that it actually hurts.

The searing cold in his chest gives a dull spike. Sideswipe flinches. The bond is still there, choked with hurts, new and old—a rotted connection. He could open it all the way, let it in, let it consume him. He's heard of backlash before, the severing of a bond whipping back and engulfing a 'bot's mind, burning out the spark. It's not a quick way to go.

"Sideswipe," Hunter says.

It'd be easy. So easy. Open it up, let him feel Sunny's death in the moments before it destroyed him, too. But in that small moment Sideswipe would be there. They'd be connected again.

Sunstreaker.

A door creaks open. Feet hit the pavement and he catches a slight, alien groan. A rustle and a clang as something else hits the ground.

"Agent Simmons," a human says. Its voice is pitched higher, a female.

"Hey, hey!" Simmons says. Scurrying footsteps and another rattle. "Be careful with that!"

"For the love of god," Hunter snarls. "Really? You're gonna do this now?"

"Agent Simmons," the woman says.

"Look at this!" Simmons says. "You put a dent in it!"

"Christ's sake, Simmons!"

Heavier footsteps pound through the turf as Hunter stomps away. Sideswipe finds himself staring at the night sky all alone. Sunny's head presses into him, cold. He turns his head.

A human female leans against the side of the transport. She's got an arm wrapped around her middle. Her skin is pale. Simmons stands a metra away from her with a silver canister held in both hands. Hunter looms over him.

"It's not my fault that thing's in the way," the woman says. "Listen—"

"This," Simmons says, shaking the canister at her, "is federal property. You can't go tossing it around."

"Agent Simmons—"

"Because if it gets damaged—"

Which is when Hunter leans over and plucks it from his arms.

"Hey!"

"Now is not the time for this," Hunter says.

"Thank you," the woman says.

"Do not take that tone with me, young man."

The agent starts babbling something about "felonies" and "prison time." It's getting harder for Sideswipe to focus. The woman rubs a hand over her face. Simmons points at Hunter and then at what he's holding. Sideswipe has to squint see it.

It's nothing special, just a metal canister about as wide as a human. It's coated in a layer of fine, gray dust. Two handles are welded onto it, one on each side, and the lid is held down by four latches. Nothing special at all until he feels the tug.

What?

Through the clawing pain and sheer exhaustion, on the verge of shut down, a ghost brushes his mind.

No.

Hunter looks over. He catches Sideswipe staring and says, "Sideswipe? What's wrong?"

No. It's not possible. That can't…

"Can I see that?" he finds himself saying.

Hunter looks at the canister and then starts towards him. Simmons trots along after him.

"Hey!" Simmons says. "What part of 'federal property' didn't you understand? You can't—"

Hunter kicks the ground and sprays the man with clods of dirt. Simmons twists away, sputtering.

"Oh yeah, kid," he says. "Real mature."

Hunter ignores him. He kneels next to Sideswipe and holds out the canister.

So close, the sensation is stronger; a tug on his spark, the faintest physical pulling. Sideswipe lifts his hand, dimly noting that his fingers tremble, and touches it. The reaction is instantaneous.

There's a bright flash. A jolt races up his arm. Hunter yelps and almost drops it.

"Whoa!" he says. "What the hell?"

Sideswipe stares. His audios glitch. He can't hear through the high-pitched ringing. Within his chest, his spark seems to buzz. He grabs bottom of the canister. It fits into his palm. Hunter lets go and Sideswipe sets it on the grass.

"What is it?" Hunter says.

Sideswipe can't answer. He's too busy trying to pry off the lid, clasping with fingers that don't want to work anymore. Hunter doesn't offer to help. He doesn't say anything, he just sits there and watches and waits.

After a few, agonizing nano-kliks, Sideswipe flips the last latch. Freezing gas hisses from the seams. Sideswipe pulls the lid up, revealing a smaller canister inside. He reaches in and lifts it out.

Held within a cylindrical cage of padded bars is a mottled, dark gray sphere. The surface is dull and flaking, criss-crossed with thin, silver lines. It looks brittle. It looks dead.

"What is that?" Hunter says.

The ground tilts under him. The ringing grows deafening. His spark feels like it's going to vibrate right out of his chest.

"It's Sunstreaker," he says.

Half a klik of silence. Hunter says, "What."

"It's his spark. Sunny's spark. It's still in there, he's alive."

It's Sunny.

Sideswipe has found Sunstreaker.

Short chapter, I know, but it was important, right? Thank you KayDeeBlu and Starfire201 and lildevchick. And thanks to the people who have added this to their alerts and favorites.

Next chapter: Trust Me