"You thought I'd break down, didn't you?"

Sunstreaker was caught by surprise at the question. Bluestreak had been so quiet after they'd exited the war memorial that the artist wasn't sure whether he should address him or not. So, both ended up walking around Iacon for over a mega-cycle without exchanging a single word, each of them lost to his own thoughts – until the soldier spoke again, that is.

"The possibility crossed my mind." Sunstreaker hated admitting such a thing, of course; but Bluestreak would see right through him if he tried denying anything.

Bluestreak nodded his understanding and said nothing else. The yellow mech couldn't help but frown and regard him close, a single question now in his mind.

"You okay?" he added softly.

Bluestreak managed a small, albeit bright smile. "I'm fine," he said. "It doesn't hurt so much anymore."

But it still hurts. Sunstreaker could tell by the way Bluestreak's optics darkened, reflecting the bittersweet emotions currently reigning in the soldier's spark. Still, the yellow mech knew that the last thing the soldier would want is someone to show him pity, so he remained silent.

"Whose idea was it?" Bluestreak asked at that moment.

"The memorial?" Sunstreaker said. "Optimus's. That was actually one of the first projects that he approved as newly-appointed Commander of Cybertron."

"Good thinking."

"Eh, I don't know," Sunstreaker replied, putting his hands behind his head in a nonchalant manner. "Huffer would probably complain that the holo-image looks nothing like him."

Bluestreak's smile changed into a broad grin. "Yeah. And did you notice what was missing from Ratchet's holo-image?"

Sunstreaker snorted. "They were probably afraid that holo-Ratchet would throw the wrench at the visitors." He deepened his voice, cracking it slightly to resemble Ratchet's voice. "If you aren't bleeding to death, get out and quit bothering me!"

"He wasn't that bad!" Bluestreak objected with a chuckle.

"Says you. You didn't have to visit his medbay almost every day," the artist grumbled under his breath.

"You still didn't break Ironhide's record, though," Bluestreak pointed out, a guffaw escaping his lips.

"Only because he was older than me!"

That, apparently,was too much for Bluestreak, because, in the next moment, he had to brace himself on a wall nearby or he would have ended up rolling on the ground. His whole body shook as he laughed loud and clear, and all Sunstreaker could do was watch the silver mech, a look of mock indignation in his optics and a warm smile in his spark.

It took a few minutes, but Bluestreak finally managed to compose himself. He heaved a sigh, and he turned to Sunstreaker with one of the brightest grins the artist had seen in a long time.

"Primus, I haven't laughed like that ever since we… lost them." His grin vanished at once. His optics widened, and he looked at his hands as though checking himself. "Has it really been that long?" he murmured in disbelief.

It had been that long. Sunstreaker still remembered the last time he himself had heard Bluestreak's laughter. It was when Sideswipe and Hot Rod were appointed as partners, since Sunstreaker had to leave for Moonbase I. When Prowl heard that, he looked quite wryly at his datapad and commented in his driest tone possible:

"Matrix help us."

And now that Bluestreak had laughed once more, truly laughed, eight less Autobots would never be able to listen to that sound. It was unfair, to say the least.

A white hand reached for Sunstreaker's and squeezed it gently, cutting Sunstreaker off his musings.

"Thank you."

This time, it was Sunstreaker's turn to blink in confusion. "For what?"

"I hadn't realised how much I needed that laugh till now." With that, Bluestreak turned on his heel and started walking again, his step more brisk and door-panels standing more relaxed behind his back. Sunstreaker, on the other hand, remained as though rooted to the spot, basking on the warm feeling of accomplishment that washed through him.

He snapped out of his reverie when the soldier looked over his shoulder, realising that Sunstreaker wasn't following him.

"Coming?"

The artist didn't have to be told twice. He hurried at the soldier's side, and they both started crossing a bridge leading to the next block of buildings. They were already halfway through when, all of a sudden, Bluestreak tapped Sunstreaker on the arm. Sunstreaker cocked his head questioningly, but the soldier simply nodded ahead.

Sunstreaker looked at the end of the bridge and saw what caught Bluestreak's attention. A mech and a femme were standing against the rail, not bothering to hide the fact that they were bonded; they hardly took their hands from each other, their optics reflecting the love they shared amid their kisses and nuzzles.

Sunstreaker couldn't help but stare at them for a few moments. There was a time that he would have scoffed at such display that looked so… well, silly was one way of putting it. But now he actually smiled at the sight.

"They look happy," he commented.

Bluestreak nodded. "They're together."

Sunstreaker's spark sank a bit at that, because it reminded him that he wasn't together with Bluestreak; not the way he wanted to. "Yeah…"

He didn't say anything else, he didn't know if he could. Bluestreak, however, simply linked his hands behind his back and kept talking.

"You know, back on Earth… I tend to have a lot of free time on my hands when I'm not required on duty," he said, "So I've been reading a lot."

"Oh?" Sunstreaker said noncommittally.

Bluestreak hummed his affirmation. "Recently, I've even read this story that humans used to have four arms, four legs and a single head made of two faces. Then a god split them all in half, condemning them to spend the rest of their lives searching for the other half to complete them."

"I always knew humans were weird," Sunstreaker replied with a snort.

Bluestreak looked as though the words had stung. "I guess," he said in a soft tone. "But it's kind of a nice thought, too."

Bluestreak, you ever-hopeless romantic, Sunstreaker thought, shaking his head mentally. We're not even humans.

Still, it set Sunstreaker thinking. In all those years, he had taken a lot of lovers, so many in fact that it was hard to keep track of them anymore. Most of the times it was a pretty little femme with bright blue optics that reminded him of precious jewels, or with a desirable body that almost matched his beauty. Other times it was a mech that matched his intellect or his love for the arts, and Sunstreaker wanted to take things one step further to see if said mech was up to that kind of challenge. And, sometimes, he was just driven by the exhilarating sensation of having someone writhing underneath him, whining and begging for his touch as he claimed them, making them feel privileged to share their berth with him.

All those lovers had one thing in common though. Sooner or later, Sunstreaker left them at the realisation that he was unsatisfied and wishing for something more.

"Hey, Sunstreaker?"

"Hmm?" Sunstreaker blinked, snapping himself out of his musings.

"What would you do if you found your other half?"

Is this a trick question? the artist thought wryly, and he was tempted not to answer Bluestreak's question. But, since he figured that he had nothing to lose, he decided to play along.

"I don't know. Bond with them, I guess," he answered with a shrug. "You?"

"Yeah, me too… if it was meant to be." The soldier regarded Sunstreaker, a knowing look in his optics. "I don't have to ask who would be your witness to the primary ceremony, right?"

Sunstreaker managed a smile. Of course it would be Sideswipe; it didn't take a great mind to figure that out. "Yours?"

Bluestreak sighed, looking ahead once more. "I would have wanted Prowl, but…" He stopped and shook his head. "Jazz is a good mech too," he continued.

Sunstreaker realised that Bluestreak was trying to reassure himself more than anything else, and he knew that that wouldn't do.

"Yeah, he is," he said with a nod. "And he would have been glad to witness the ceremony. It would be like having Prowl watching it."

Bluestreak looked at Sunstreaker for many long moments, his disbelief visible on his features. "You really think that?"

Sunstreaker heaved a mental sigh. He supposed he should have expected that kind of reaction. He was the sociopath of the old gang, and he never talked about mushy stuff that sounded like out of a bad soap-opera. But, blast it, he was serious!

"Of course I do," Sunstreaker answered, "This is Jazz we're talking about, remember? He cares about you just as much as Prowl did."

Bluestreak blinked and cocked his head, regarding Sunstreaker for many long moments, until he finally nodded his agreement.

"You're right," he said.

"You bet I am," Sunstreaker declared smugly, "And don't you forget that."

Bluestreak's answer came in the form of a mischievous grin. "And I also bet it hurt saying something so nice, didn't it?"

Busted again. Sunstreaker's lips tugged into a tired smile. "You'll never know how much."

Bluestreak made a motion that resembled a human rolling his eyes, obviously a habit he picked up from Earth. "You're incorrigible."

"I try."

If Bluestreak meant to answer that, he never did. He frowned at the next moment, as though he remembered something very important.

"What is it?" Sunstreaker asked, perplexed.

"I, uh…" Bluestreak scratched his head embarrassedly. "What time is it?"

Sunstreaker wasn't all that sure himself, truth be told. "Probably late afternoon. Why?"

Bluestreak winced. "The festivities will start soon. We'd better head towards the Iacon centre."

Sunstreaker raised an optic ridge and stared at the silver mech. "Why?"

"That's where the military dorms are," Bluestreak replied. "If I'm to get ready for the festivities, I have to have a shower, at least."

Dorms? The artist shook his head at once. "No way. You're coming with me."

Bluestreak was certainly taken aback. "Where?"

"My place, of course," Sunstreaker answered.

Bluestreak's face of uneasiness was a pain to watch. "I'm not sure this is such a good idea, Sunstreaker…"

"No, it's actually a great idea," Sunstreaker insisted. "I meant to show you the apartment anyway, and you can still have a shower if you want."

"Sunstreaker, I couldn't possibly impose myself any further. You've already done more than enough for me," the silver mech retorted.

Impose? Sunstreaker echoed in his mind, and he was this close to slapping his forehead. Primus help him, but Bluestreak could be so frustrating at times that it almost made the artist scream.

He did nothing of the sort though. He gripped Bluestreak firmly by the shoulders in reassurance instead, looking at him straight in the optic.

"Bluestreak, you're not imposing; you never did," he said with utmost sincerity.

The younger mech opened his mouth to speak, but the artist proved faster.

"And if you don't like my answer, I can give you another," he added with a smirk. "Do you seriously want to go to some stiff, plain, old dorms rather than a cosy, warm, clean room with a view over Iacon?"

The silver mech's look of resolve wavered, and Sunstreaker clearly saw in Bluestreak's optics the mental struggle that took place within the soldier's mind. It aggravated the artist, for to him the answer was simplicity itself. Nevertheless, he also knew that the decision lay within Bluestreak alone, and he had to respect that.

Finally, Bluestreak looked up at Sunstreaker quite meekly, almost like a sparkling wishing to ask their creator a favour.

"Do you have hot water too?"

Sunstreaker could only chuckle heartily at that.

"Plenty of it," he answered, already guiding Bluestreak toward his home.


In less than half a mega-cycle, they had arrived at the apartment, and Sunstreaker entered the password on the lock. When the door opened with a soft hiss, he stepped slightly back, motioning a hand to the entrance.

"After you," he said to Bluestreak, very much like a butler welcoming a well-known persona of royalty.

Bluestreak shook his head at that; nevertheless he walked in, optics scrutinising the bright, spacious interior.

"Well, what do you think?" Sunstreaker asked, walking up to Bluestreak's side.

"It's beautiful," Bluestreak answered, nodding his head in approval. "Did you decorate it?"

Sunstreaker grinned. "I sure did. I even chose the colours on the walls myself, too," he said.

"Why am I not surprised?" Bluestreak said, regarding the artist teasingly.

"Because there's no mistaking my excellent taste?" Sunstreaker retorted, and he gripped Bluestreak by the arm to guide him further inside. "Come on, let me show you the rest of the place."

Bluestreak followed the artist with a smile, listening patiently as Sunstreaker showed the soldier the sitting room, the energon dispenser, as well as a small study that he and Sideswipe shared. However, there was something else that really caught Bluestreak's attention.

"That's a lot of datapads," the soldier commented, as he looked at the datapad-case against one of the walls. He reached for one, but he stopped midway when he remembered himself. He looked at Sunstreaker for permission and, as soon as Sunstreaker nodded his consent, Bluestreak picked up a datapad and turned it on.

He was quite surprised to see what was in it, and he didn't even bother hiding it from the artist.

"Talk about a trip down memory lane!" he exclaimed, skimming through the scanned comic pages. "I haven't seen these in ages!"

Sunstreaker smirked. "It would be hard to see any of them, considering I've been keeping them here in the last vorn."

"You know what I mean," Bluestreak replied, lightly cuffing Sunstreaker's arm in mock indignation. He looked at another page, a sigh escaping his lips. "Spike used to love these."

Sunstreaker clenched his jaw involuntarily at the mention of another good friend now long gone. "Yeah, he did." He regarded Bluestreak closely. "We all did."

Bluestreak nodded and, for a moment, Sunstreaker wanted to believe that they were back at the Ark; back at a time when he, Sideswipe and Bluestreak were eager to scan the next comic issue the moment Spike bought it, so they could read it too. Sometimes, if they were too impatient, they even made three copies of it so that they could read it at the same time. Then they'd all sit on the couch and read in silence, surprising everyone who considered them – actually, just him and Sideswipe - nothing more than hellions up to some kind of mischief.

The illusion was broken when Bluestreak spoke, for it wasn't the carefree lilt that Sunstreaker expected. It was the mature timbre of the Bluestreak who had seen too much in his life, the one who had aged more than his actual years.

"It makes you wish that those days were never gone, doesn't it?"

Sunstreaker silently agreed. Before even realising what he was doing, his fingers curled around the soldier's, fingertips gently brushing over the white knuckles before prying the datapad away.

"You should have that shower," he said in a never-before-heard soft, almost soothing, tone.

Bluestreak nodded his understanding. "Where's the shower-room?"

Sunstreaker pointed with his thumb at the exit. "First door on the left; can't miss it. There are already some fresh towels there that you can use if you want."

"Okay." And with that, Bluestreak walked out the door and out of sight.

Sunstreaker, however, didn't move for some time. He kept his head bowed, fingers tapping the datapad absentmindedly before he finally turned the thing off and put it back in its place.

He needed a drink. Desperately. And certainly not of any low-grade energon. He headed to the energon dispenser and took out a vial with just enough high-grade to fill a small cube.

It would do. Sunstreaker poured the high-grade into a cube that was already on the counter, and he took a swing. The strong liquid burned his vocaliser, but he hardly noticed it; he had become too lost in thought.

Why was he doing this to himself? Why was he laughing and joking with Bluestreak as though nothing had changed when, in fact, nothing was the same? He was different, Bluestreak was different, the whole blasted world was different, and yet he chose to shut his optics and audios off from that relentless truth.

He knew why. Because then he would have to acknowledge the fact that some other things were changed, as well as the possibility that Bluestreak was regarding him as a mere face from the past, just like Gears and Warpath; someone fond to think of and yet nothing more than a memory. That pained Sunstreaker more than he would ever care to admit. He could handle it if Bluestreak bore a grudge on him or even hatedhim for some reason; at least it would mean that Bluestreak felt something about him. Now though…

Sunstreaker sighed and stared at his drink. Now, nothing. It had been a whole vorn; Sunstreaker said so himself. He couldn't expect anything nor should he. He would simply live the moment for exactly what it was, a moment, and that would be that.

Growling in dismay at the injustice of it all, he threw the half-empty cube at the trashcan just a little further from him.

"Sunstreaker?"

Sunstreaker looked up, wincing to see that Bluestreak was standing at the doorway, regarding him with optics slightly wide in evident concern; he had obviously caught sight of Sunstreaker's violent display, and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

But, if Sunstreaker was good at something, it was playing down matters.

"The energon was stale," he lied smoothly, waving his hand in a dismissive manner. "I... take it you've finished your shower?" Of course, the answer was obvious. The silver mech's chassis shone brilliantly now that it wasn't marred by Primus knew how much dirt that had accumulated there, revealing an undeniable quality in the younger mech's paintjob.

Bluestreak nodded slowly, his optics still locked on Sunstreaker.

"Right," Sunstreaker declared, and he stood up. "Then it's high time we left."

The air in the apartment was too stifling.

TBC…