AN: For once I managed a weekly post. I'm writing bits and pieces of the later chapters at the moment so apart from chapter 6,7, and 13 none of the others are done yet. I don't know whether that means updates will be delayed or not, so we'll just have to see in two weeks time.

Warnings: See Chapter Title

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers.

Poem is (yet another) Siegfried Sassoon

.

Does it Matter?

DOES it matter?—losing your legs?...

For people will always be kind,

And you need not show that you mind

When the others come in after hunting

To gobble their muffins and eggs.

.

Does it matter?—losing your sight?...

There's such splendid work for the blind;

And people will always be kind,

As you sit on the terrace remembering

And turning your face to the light.

.

Do they matter?—those dreams from the pit?...

You can drink and forget and be glad,

And people won't say that you're mad;

For they'll know you've fought for your country

And no one will worry a bit.

"Well, aren't you coming? Or are you afraid of getting slagged you oversized rust bucket?"

Sideswipe gritted his denta. On the best of days he could barely put up with minibot antics, something really grated on him, the ways they acted. However this was not even the best of days, no, this would count amongst the worst of days Sideswipe had ever had. He couldn't fight, couldn't brawl, couldn't train, couldn't do anything that he'd done before the "incident" as it was now delicately put by some of the other mechs. Well they could stuff their delicacy right up their afts. Sideswipe did not need to be coddled, not now, not ever, although it didn't mean that he could be taunted for being a fragging cripple.

Not that anyone outright called him that –no- the cowards just stepped around it.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Sideswipe was sort of aware that he was acting exactly like his brother. His brother on a bad day, that is, which was even worse.

The little fragger in front of him, he knew it was Brawn, yes, but little fragger suited him so much better, Sideswipe couldn't wait to get his hands on the little –wouldn't that human term, bastard, be better?- fragger, then the frontliner would show him how crippled Sideswipe was.

Except he'd never make it as he'd fragging found out seven times already. Any sudden movements, of his own volition that is, and Sideswipe was down and out for the count. People could pick him up, move him around as they wished -as Sunstreaker had already done, much to his brother's chagrin- it was as if he was some sort of life-sized doll that had to be either manhandled or treated with extreme care, depending on the bot in question.

He wasn't even allowed to be around humans anymore, Ratchet kept on worrying that he'd seize up and fall on one of them –as if the squishies couldn't dodge- for no good reason. It wasn't as if Sideswipe was Prowl after all, whose processors locked up a fair amount when in the presence of the mostly illogical humans.

The worst had been not being able to respond to an attack, which was partially what Brawn was taunting him about. Brawn had been on some mission that had lasted him a couple of weeks, thus missing most of what had happened to Sideswipe. He didn't know that if Sideswipe moved too quickly he'd collapse or freeze for a while and only be able to move again once his spark had stabilised. Brawn had heard about it and, like all minibots, had immediately, without evidence, assumed Sideswipe was playing an elaborate prank to get out of working or doing anything.

Sideswipe wished he could smash the little bastard's faceplate in. However he had promised Sunstreaker he wouldn't do anything while his brother wasn't around to help him. Well he hadn't wanted to promise that, but upon feeling Sunstreaker leak some of his worry and despairing fear over the bond, he'd decided he had to. He couldn't leave his brother feeling like that; he hadn't last time and he wouldn't this time. Even if this time was much worse because Sunstreaker knew that just a bit too much stress on Sideswipe's spark and it would destabilise completely, without hope of recovery, and snuff out.

The only good thing about Brawn being so uninformed was that he hadn't sent Sideswipe a look of pity yet, which might have driven him over the edge enough to break his promise to his brother. Mocking and taunting he could take, he did taunt Decepticons in battle and they taunted him right back, but someone looking at him like he was broken, or fragile, was not on.

Sunstreaker hadn't looked at him with pity, just despair. Bluestreak had though, with big blue optics that made Sideswipe want to call the gunner pathetic, which would have broken the latter's spark. He hadn't at the time, although it had been quite close.

Surprisingly someone with a fairly similar attitude to Bluestreak concerning pitying others hadn't even looked him in the optic yet. First Aid's brothers had all given him identical unreadable looks and First Aid just hadn't looked at him. Sideswipe had seen the shame and guilt on his face though, similar to what Sideswipe had seen on Ratchet's. Their medical coding was screaming at them for being unable to fix him. He'd wanted to say something to both of them, for them not to blame themselves, but hadn't found the right words.

He wished he had the right words for Brawn about right now; something to make the minibot back the frag off before Sideswipe did something stupid which would break his promise. At least Sunstreaker was on his way now to kick some minibot aft and provide entertainment for Sideswipe. He'd been taken off of most his duty shifts; anything that could cause him to panic or get excited –did they think he was a complete cripple?- was deemed too hazardous for his health.

The "get excited bit" bothered him the most because it meant he couldn't do a lot of things that were not part of duty shifts, like some of his really exciting racing games. To replace them, Prowl had suggested chess. Chess. He might as well die of boredom now.

At least Sunstreaker had arrived now and he'd get some form of fun. Yeah. Right.

What a fun life he was living. He really should thank the Combaticons next time he saw them for making his life unbearably pleasurable. In fact, once Sunstreaker was done with the annoying minibot they should plan out a "thank you!" present, or party for them. Maybe with some corrosives and some paintball guns. Except he'd never be allowed to come along, not by anyone in the ark, and he'd have to rely on his brother's recordings which, although good quality, were not as good as being there.

Fun indeed.

AN: As for the next chapter, plot starts happening. Well, at least it's hinted at.

Hope all my readers enjoyed. Please Review.

Eli