Kneeling to the Sword

by Gatekat

Knights of Light. Dai Atlas/Axe. When General Dai Atlas and his SIC decide to retire from Nova Prime's army, they know it could cost them dearly and plan accordingly.

24. Fallen Wings

Note: We now go AU.

Kneeling to the Sword 24: Fallen Wings
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Axe walked into the quarters he shared with his mate in the main residence tower of the Citadel of Light, venting heavily. He wasn't really looking forward to the conversation that he knew was coming once Dai Atlas returned, but he knew it couldn't be avoided.

The orn had started off pretty much like every other orn since Wing had brought back the white Decepticon. There had been the usual grumbling about Drift's presence in the hidden city, though it was considerably more muted than it had been several vorns before, when Wing had come tearing back into the city cavern, carrying a nearly slagged mech in his arms. By now, the grumbling was more habit than anything serious.

Things had changed drastically when Drift had burst into the meeting room, announcing that the slavers on the surface were about to move on New Crystal City. Wing had announced his intention to fight, much to the horror of both Dai Atlas and Axe. Both were terrified of losing their eldest creation.

~You're going to be there,~ Dai Atlas murmured as he pulled his mate onto their berth and captured his mouth. ~Shogun and Marwir too. But Drift ... another war...~

~Knowing that I will be there to watch Wing, along with other experienced Knights, doesn't take away any of the fear,~ Axe replied, pressing his frame against the larger blue mech's. ~I'm not looking forward to this any more than you are. But I don't see any other choice. The die have been cast.~

~And there is no way out. Either a score of Knights face them, or we admit the city is here,~ Dai Atlas' spark cried out for the choice. ~But how many do we lose? How many do we accept the deactivation of?~

~Many more would deactivate if the slavers find the city. The others know the risks. They are prepared for that sacrifice if necessary.~ A shiver ran through Axe's frame. ~I don't want to lose anyone. But getting through this with no losses would be next to impossible.~

~Maybe more Knights, field a true army.~

~It could help... Or it might create even more casualties,~ the black and gold Knight pointed out, releasing a heavy sigh. ~Too many things could go wrong.~

~There aren't many with battlefield experience,~ Dai Atlas admitted. ~But if you need the backup, don't you dare not call for it. I can't lose you.~

~I know, love.~ Axe rested his helm against his mate's shoulder, dimming his optics. ~If it comes to that, I will call.~

~I have a bad feeling, love,~ he murmured. ~The Decepticon, the trap he told us about, only sending a fraction of our forces ... you and Wing both there.~

~We will protect Wing,~ Axe stated firmly. ~He has some of the best and most experienced Knights watching out for him. As for Drift... If he tries anything funny, he will be dealt with.~ Steel laced the words.

~I rather hope he does,~ Dai Atlas growled. ~I do not like how fixated Wing is with him.~

The black and gold triple changer shifted slightly. ~I have to admit I hope he doesn't, because I do not want to see Wing in a state of sparkbreak again.~ He clearly remembered how torn up the white jet had been when Tradewinds had refused to come with them so many millennia ago.

~Better sparkbreak from battle deactivation than sparkbreak when that creature turns on him,~ Dai Atlas actually snarled. ~He already admitted to betraying us, lying to us, using us.~

Axe let out a low rumble. ~But he actually admitted to it, rather than keeping it to himself and arranging to lead us into the trap,~ he pointed out. ~He claims he is trying to help us.~ Doubt flickered under the words.

~For how long?~ Anger roiled under the thought. ~How long before more come because he sold us out. We already have to abandon Aelios before another army arrives. We can't afford to have a known traitor in our midst.~

~I just don't know, love.~ Black plating fluffed and resettled uneasily. ~All we can do is hope for the best, but plan for the worst.~

~That plan needs to involve that Decepticon not making it out of the battle,~ Dai Atlas insisted. ~Better for him to end there than for Wing to learn his true nature.~

~I hate to play the Unmaker's advocate here, but what if Drift actually is sincere about wanting to help us?~ Blue optics lifted to meet deep red.

~He changed his processors blasted fast then,~ Dai Atlas pointed out darkly. ~How long was it between that message and when he burst into the hall? Less than two shifts, during which he had to sneak out, meet them and get back.~

~Anything is possible, my love. We won't know until the dust settles.~ Axe pressed close to his mate's frame, his plating tight to his frame to stop it from rattling as he trembled.

~I'd prefer it to settle without the variable going by Drift,~ he rumbled, holding his mate close. ~Things will get back to normal then.~

~As normal as they ever get,~ Axe quipped, leaning against warm blue armor.

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Wing walked through the corridors of the Citadel on autopilot, his processor elsewhere. He was thinking over everything that had happened that orn, and especially of the emergency meeting he had been brought into once the Circle learned what Drift had done. The white jet had a lot to chew on.

He never even noticed when he reached his quarters, coding open the door and walking inside. Only when strong black hands grabbed him and shoved him against the wall did his processor check back into reality. The heat of a frame against his, a field mixed equally of aggression, excitement and arousal crashed into his.

The white jet yipped in surprise, optics widening and refocusing. "Drift!" After a surprised moment, Wing relaxed slowly, his field reaching out to brush against the grounder's. A hard mouth pressed against his as hands moved down his frame, rough and demanding but oh so familiar.

"We're going to deactivate in the morning," Drift growled roughly, pressing his frame against his captor turned lover. "Enjoy tonight."

Wing opened his mouth into the rough kiss as it sank in that Drift was kissing him, or at least trying to mimic the few passionate kisses Wing had given him in forgetful moments. Lifting his hands to stroke over Drift's armor, fingers flirting with the division between dark Decepticon armor and New Crystal City repairs. "Sounds good," he purred.

With that Drift slid his spike panel open, his spike pressurizing between them smoothly and all too quickly. Wing's valve cover all but popped open, the white jet shifting his weight and lifting one leg to curl around the grounder's hip. Licking lightly at Drift's lips, Wing slid his hands over white spaulders, tracing their lines and angles, fingers sliding into the seams.

A deep growling moan vibrated against Wing's throat as Drift lowered his helm slightly and drove his spike into his lover with a single thrust. To anyone else in the city, it would have been an act of violence and domination. To Wing, who'd known the intimacy Drift understood on his arrival, this had a very different feeling. A few edges had smoothed out, a bit of care for his berthmate, at attempt at something resembling a kiss and asking permission; Drift had come a very, very long way in Wing's opinion from the Decepticon that had first woken in Redline's medical bay.

The white jet moaned softly, nipping and nuzzling at Drift's helm, gliding his fingertips along armor seams, searching for the most sensitive spots. His valve rippled around the invading spike, shifting his hips so that the grounder's spike rubbed over another set of sensors. The jet's nacelles revved, vibrating against white plating. He knew very well that Drift wasn't one for drawn out interfacing. His goal was to overload, quickly, and no matter how many overloads were involved in the end or how often Wing tried to introduce him to the joys and pleasures of drawing it out it hadn't clicked yet.

Now Drift thought his functioning was over and he was out to steal a last bit of pleasure from existence before his frame became an empty shell. It made Wing's very spark ache that he couldn't tell his lover that neither of them were likely to deactivate. His creators had been very clear on that, however. If Drift thought this was a suicide mission, he was not to deter the idea.

They still didn't trust Drift, especially not Dai Atlas. Wing had seen the hatred in his creator's optics when he first saw Drift, and that hatred had only intensified the more they interacted.

A rolling wave of pleasure tore Wing's thoughts from the past and future when Drift's movements changed, became sharper as the overload built to its peak.

Wing clung to the grounder's heavier frame, his wings flaring out against the wall, trembling from base to tip. His helm fell back, baring his throat, gold optics dimming slightly as he shifted his hips to match Drift's, pressing into every thrust. Energy built between them, dancing along Wing's sensor net. As rough and different as this was from every other lover he'd ever had, it was blissful in its honesty. Today even more than most as he knew Drift well enough to know the effort the grounder was putting into being a lover.

A last deep, hard thrust and Drift growled as his frame began to lock up. Hot transfluid spurted against the anterior sensor cluster in Wing's valve, sending intense jolts of pleasure crashing through the jet.

The jet clung to Drift, keening his overload as his valve tightened around the former Decepticon's spike. Charge darted over his plating, arcing between the tips if his audial fins and the points of his nacelle pinions. It felt good, oh so very good. Despite the roughness and general lack of skill, Wing's very spark sang every time he was with Drift, even when it wasn't intimate.

Drift was his one, he was sure of it. Never before had his spark begged him to open to another. It was only that Drift was far less prepared than Wing for such an intimacy that kept the white chest plates closed.

Huffing and panting, Drift's frame unlocked as the charge began to dissipate. As soon as he was free he began to thrust again, deep and strong, chasing another overload.

The jet nuzzled against Drift's rounded cheekplates, tilting his helm to lick along the tempting white spires of audial finials. One hand slid over Drift's shoulder to stroke along his neck cables, the other finding a seam between plates along the grounder's back. Red-trimmed white armor fluffed, trying to vent heat even as it began to build again. He was long lost in the cycles of pleasure and overload when he found himself horizontal and realized Drift had withdrawn. A bleary moment and it sank in that he was on top of his lover and Drift's legs were spread, sliding along the outside of his own as blue optics looked up at him, trusting.

A surprised chirr escaped Wing's vocalizer. He knew the grounder was not at all fond of being taken. Dipping his helm, he pressed kisses to Drift's neck and upper chest, smoothly sliding his own spike into the offered valve. Wings flaring and wiggling behind him, the jet settled into a steady, smooth rhythm. He knew not to expect much by way of participation; Drift didn't have any clue how to enjoy being taken. The subtle lessons Wing had managed to teach him about being a lover when being the spiker were still nowhere close to complete enough to have moved on to this yet.

Despite that and all of the grounder's history, Drift moaned softly as Wing's spike slid gently and firmly through the lightly slick passage, setting off sensor nodes that were unaccustomed to triggering pleasure.

Wing kept his rhythm smooth and steady, shifting his hips to rub his spike against as many sensor nodes as possible. The jet purred against his lover's neck cables, bracing himself with one hand while the other continued to explore the contours of Drift's armor. He could feel the shock, the confusion, that rippled through Drift's field as pleasure began to build from a place and act that had only meant pain and humiliation until now.

The white jet purred against him, slowly picking up the pace, keeping his movements smooth. He kissed Drift's cheek lightly, nacelles revving high, wings spread and fluttering. Even though he really preferred to be on the receiving end, the trust implicit in Drift offering his valve made this exquisitely pleasurable far beyond the physical act.

Slowly Drift began to really respond to the pleasure and the cause, rocking his hips upward into the thrusts a bit awkwardly.

Wing chirred encouragement, shifting his hips to adjust the angle and rub his spike over another set of sensor nodes. His field reached out to wrap around Drift, bright and warm. The heat that replied was still untamed, as wild and volatile as the mech it belonged to, yet for Wing there was nothing to fear in the maelstrom that was Drift. Even if the grounder didn't understand what was between them, or even that spark resonance existed, Wing did. He knew his lover was his one, and such a lover could never turn on him. Resonance was no promise of a happy future, but it did stack the odds in favor of it.

Drift's next intake was a gasp of pleasure, a sound of shock as much as the building overload in his valve. Black hands gripped at Wing, blinding trying to find a way to ground Drift from what was coming.

The white Knight crooned softly, slowly increasing his pace again. The tip of his spike struck against the dense cluster of sensor nodes at the top of Drift's valve. Tilting his helm, Wing captured Drift's lips in a gentle, passionate kiss, golden optics meeting pale blue. This time, for the first time, Drift kissed back, or at least he gave it a very honest try. The grounder moaned into that kiss, his frame trembling with the charge washing through it.

Their fields thrust and mingled, sharing the pleasure, the surprise, the softness and Wing's joy in giving this moment to Drift on the eve of battle.

Wing could feel the charge building, beginning to flicker through his sensor net. The air shimmered with heat over his flared armor and air vents. Shifting and bracing one leg for better leverage, Wing purred and trilled into the kiss, his wings fluttering and wiggling, wanting to be touched.

It took Drift a moment to catch on, and his coordination wasn't nearly what it was when he was on top, but the grounder tried. Black hands pressed up and stroked, then squeezed as Drift gasped again into something close to a keen when a heavy burst of energy crashed through his systems.

"W-wing!" he groaned, giving himself over to the pleasure he wasn't expecting and didn't completely understand.

Slender wings pressed down into black hands, spreading out farther to present as much surface area for stroking as possible. Wing keened against Drift's neck, transfluid erupting from his spike, right into that dense sensor cluster. Charge leaped across his frame, jumping off onto Drift.

It was enough to cause Drift to roar as overload took him, energy charging through his systems, across his frame and leaping to Wing as their frames locked up, awareness loss to the bliss.

Slowly, sweetly, they began to relax, both well-spent and twitching faintly as they gasped for cooling air and to rebalance the loose energy ricocheting through their systems.

Wing slowly sank down on top of Drift, then slid sideways off the grounder's frame to lay curled up next to him. Warm golden optics regarded his lover, the white jet purring contentedly as they both sank into recharge, content with what could be their last evening together.

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Dai Atlas twitched in the control room, unhappy and stressed that he couldn't be in the battle. It was his place, his function, but as Sovereign he could not be out there when the illusion was that of a suicide mission. It was bad enough he'd allowed his creation and mate to go, but it seemed as if the traitor hadn't caught on to their relationships. Or he simply didn't see the problem with allowing mate and creation to extinguish.

The battle on the surface was utter chaos. The slavers had brought with them an army, both the smaller slavers themselves and their larger thugs. So far the Knights had not suffered any real losses and were taking a heavy toll on their opponents, but there wasn't a single Knight that didn't bear blaster burns in their finish or sluggishly-bleeding wounds in their plating.

Axe was in the thick of things, dealing with the larger opponents, his armor spattered with amber-colored organic fluids. Every so often a curse leaked through the bond as he tried to make his way back to the two white mechs he was keeping an optic on.

~You have wings,~ Dai Atlas snapped at him, annoyed that his mate was trying to remain on the ground like their enemy. A burst of horrified terror flashed across both sides of the bond in the same instant as they saw Wing go down, slammed to his back in the sand and a slaver bearing down on him even as he desperately tried to draw his Great Sword.

Dai Atlas' cry was one of denial as he watched his eldest surviving creation draw his Great Sword and cut his attacker in two, but did not stop the force of the spear that slammed into Wing's chest.

The white jet let out a cry of pain, collapsing back into the sand, briefly clawing at the spear in his chest. Golden optics darkened, his arm dropping to the ground, the edges of his armor showing an unhealthy edge of gray.

"WING!" Axe's shriek when he saw his creation go down caused the entire battle to pause momentarily, every mech and organic staring at him for a moment. Knights scrambled out of his way as Axe plowed forward, ax reaping a gory harvest through any slavers foolish enough to get in his way. From another direction a flicker of red caught his optic as Shogun came streaking in. A burgundy bolt, much smaller than the others, also converged on the scene, her pain quieter but no less deadly to the slavers that got too close to her path.

Across the field Knights rumbled and the battle turned far more vicious against their enemy. The Knights fought harder than ever, but they were few in number, and their enemies numbered in the hundreds. Another Knight bellowed in pain as a blaster bolt shattered his knee, staggering on one leg as he tried to fend off the sadistically-grinning slavers converging on him like cyber-wolves on a wounded robo-deer.

The entire planet rumble underfoot and underpede, causing slavers to pause, uncertain and Knights to pause in surprise. The Knights knew help was likely to come once they saw the size of the army, but not one was expecting to see the city rise from the sand.

Axe hesitated for an instant, sending surprise through the bond, then resumed plowing his way through to where Wing had fallen. He was aware of Drift in the vicinity slashing at slavers with a level of violence that spoke to the military spark. At a glance, it also spoke of a spark enraged past sanity as the Decepticon picked a fight with a long-necked, dark plated Cybertronian that was most definitely not a Knight. Still, it was not his concern at the moment. Reaching his fallen creation was.

Already gray and painfully still when Axe reached him, there was no question about the jet's state. Even if the blow hadn't killed him, the drain from using his Great Sword would have. He heard his mate's bellowed orders, the Knight's version of 'kill them all', and turned to join in the slaughter.

A wild howl torn from thousands of throats answered Dai Atlas' commands. The entire Circle of Light raced into battle, weapons drawn and optics blazing with fury. Behind them came every citizen of the city who chose to take up a weapon, visiting a terrible retribution on the slaver army. Some of the slavers, seeing that the tables had turned, tried to run, but the enraged Cybertronians weren't about to allow it.

There would be many a penance in the coming decaorn, but for now they had an army to obliterate. Then all traces of the slaver ships and base to find and dismantle.

It was over too soon for Axe and his mate, their rage not yet quelled. But even in the midst of it Axe could feel his mate zeroing in on Drift with the intent to destroy him.

~Dai!~ Axe skidded as he made an abrupt change of direction, launching into the air. ~He was fighting with us, not against us! Wing would not want you to do this!~

~Wing is gone. That Decepticon that killed him will be too,~ Dai Atlas snarled back, his spark in too much pain to accept reason.

~The slaver killed Wing!~ Axe responded, racing to catch up with his mate before Dai Atlas caught Drift, who was still struggling with the larger, taller Decepticon with a hook instead of one hand.

~That triple traitor did!~ Dai Atlas snarled as he drew Strength of Conviction, the yellow gem glowing bright as the sun overhead and blade crackling with deep red spark energy. ~If he hadn't betrayed us, Wing wouldn't be gray. I told you to make sure he deactivated. You failed me.~

Axe keened, but didn't stop, subspacing his ax and slamming into Dai Atlas at full throttle. Sparks flew and metal screeched in protest as the two giants hit the ground, Axe trying to pin his larger mate. ~Dai, stop!~

Shogun darted over to help. Orange optics flicked in Drift's direction. ::I'd stay out of Dai Atlas' line of sight for a bit, if I were you, Decepticon.::

::I'm not a Decepticon!:: Drift roared back. ::And I'm a little busy at the moment,:: he pointed out with a growl, still struggling with Lockdown in the sandy dunes.

Shogun blinked at that, wings twitching as he helped Axe with Dai Atlas, managing to get the big mech pinned long enough to fasten a set of restraints on his wrists. Axe shot the red mech a grateful look, then concentrated on Dai Atlas again while the former Altihex policemech turned to keep an optic on Drift and Lockdown.

No one doubted that the dark Decepticon wouldn't make it far, whether it was Drift or a Knight that took him down. As it was, the burgundy shape so similar to Wing's slashed at Lockdown, cutting into him deeply from shoulder to hip. It was more than enough to give Drift the edge he needed to cut open the Decepticon's chest and forcefully tear out the still-full spark chamber.

Dozens of optics watched the lifeless mech fall. Some of the Knights continued to chase the retreating slavers, others gathered in a clump, watching everything. Optics moved from the restrained Dai Atlas and the unhappy Axe to Drift and the crumpled bounty hunter, wondering what was going to happen next.

It came as no surprise to the former military mecha, be they Knight or civilian, that the instant Lockdown was removed as a threat Drift's optics snapped to Dai Atlas. Stasis cuffs were noted, and those bright blue optics moved on to seek out Wing's grayed frame.

A small sound of grief escaped Drift before he locked it all away and turned back to the remaining battle with a psychotic vengeance. He was one of the few on the field who had no issues with slaughtering retreating enemies and he knew it.

Shogun looked from Drift to Axe and back, then chose to go after Drift, keeping an optic on the white grounder. He was evaluating the white mech, his insistence that he was no longer a Decepticon. And he would make sure that Drift would be dealt with if he harmed a resident of city or Circle.

Axe watched them go, then turned his attention back to his mate. ~Dai?~

~Get these cuffs off me,~ the giant snarled in pure rage.

~Not until you're sane enough and won't try to damage anyone,~ Axe informed him. ~Drift can be dealt with later. Most of the Knights and the citizens are watching you. This is not making a very good impression on them.~

Several huffed vents later and Dai Atlas had managed to lock away his rage. His mate knew how to play him, knew him flawlessly, knew what he'd respond to.

~I'm calm enough,~ Dai Atlas rumbled, subdued as the grief took over his processors.

Axe vented a relieved sigh, quickly pinging Shogun for the code to the stasis cuffs. Once he had the code from the former policemech, he removed the cuffs and stashed them in subspace, helping his mate to his pedes before they focused on the processes of post-battle cleanup.

::Shogun, try to get the coordinates of the slaver camp from Drift. He's the only one who knows where it is.:: Axe pinged the former cop.

There was a moment of silence from the red Knight. ::He gave up the coordinates after a moment of prodding to get his attention... He also says the camp is full of captives brought by the slavers. Organic and cybernetic races.::

::...That is going to be a problem,:: Axe admitted. ::I'm not sure any of us can slaughter prisoners anymore. But we can at least take out the camp and decide what to do with their captors later.::

"Knights!" Dai Atlas bellowed. "Injured, report to Redline. Fighting fit, with us. Civilians, return to the city and return the weapons to the Citadel."

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Shogun had been following Drift, keeping a close optic on the white grounder. He had watched the former Decepticon tearing through the retreating slavers while avoiding all of the Knights. Now, the last of the slavers had fallen; there was no one left to chase.

::Drift!:: the red Knight dropped out of the air, catching hold of a white spaulder and easily blocking the expected attack. He knew not to touch a soldier in a fight without expecting the reflex to kick in. "Enough."

"Never enough," the white mech muttered, his field a maelstrom of old memories, self-hatred and anger that no longer had an outlet. He dropped his shoulder to remove the unwelcome touch but didn't otherwise try to escape as resignation filtered into his field. "It's not like he's going to give me a chance."

"I don't intend to let him deactivate you offhand. Dai Atlas is in pain and grieving... Wing was his creation, and Dai is... not rational at the moment." The red Knight inclined his helm in the direction of the city, shooing Drift in that direction only to find that the white mech had frozen in pure, open shock.

"Creation?" he stammered.

"You didn't know?" Shogun blinked. "It's no secret. Dai Atlas and Axe are bonded mates, and Wing is their creation. That's why Dai Atlas is so upset."

"It also explains why he hates me so much before," Drift's engine growled in annoyance before he began to move. "Why would you protect me?"

"Dai Atlas lost his younger creation, Sheerwing, to a Decepticon attack when we fled Cybertron," the red Knight informed Drift as he followed the smaller mech. "Sheerwing's ship was destroyed above Cybertron. That is part of the reason for his hatred of Decepticons. And I was a cop before becoming a Knight... I was trained not to jump to conclusions, to evaluate all evidence before making a decision. You fought with us, and you have stated that you are no longer a Decepticon. Therefore, you should be given the benefit of the doubt."

"So how do trials work here?" Drift shrugged his acceptance even as he plotted his escape. He'd seen the giant's rage, and given the reason for it ... Drift had no expectation anyone would last long against it.

"I will be keeping an optic on you until Dai Atlas is rational, or at least inclined to actually think before he acts. Then, we shall see." Red wings flared and settled, the big mech using his deactivated weapon as a walking stick.

"That's what I thought," Drift muttered, otherwise falling silent for the trek back to the city.

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Axe was weary when he stopped outside the apartment he's shared with his mate since the Citadel had been built. It had been a long orn, a hard battle and his spark still ached for his creation. What hurt even more was the seething rage creating a block with his bonded mate. Dai Atlas was controlled, but he was far from settled. The black Knight's armor was as drooped as it could get, his optics dimmed. This was not going to be an easy confrontation, likely to be ugly for the both of them. Steeling himself, he walked into their quarters, looking around for his mate.

The washrack was on, the rumble of angry engines audible over the rain of solvent on plating.

Venting heavily, Axe made his way over to the washrack, stopping just inside the door to watch his mate. He could almost see the miniature ion storm raging over the taller mech's helm. For a long moment, Axe just stood and watched, then he shook himself and spoke. "Dai."

"You failed me twice." The dark rumble was a tone Axe had heard directed at officers about to be sent to the worst assignment the General could come up with, but never at himself.

Black armor plates shivered. "The situation changed. You know as well as I do that plans can change. It couldn't be helped, Dai." Axe risked a step closer.

Blazing red optics lock onto him, the anger twisting with self-recrimination and grief. "Couldn't be helped? All you had to do was distract him when he was being attacked and it would have been over! Instead Wing is gone and he's still functioning."

Axe's optics flashed. "You think I don't feel as bad about this as you do? You think I don't blame myself for Wing's death? Do you think this doesn't hurt me as much as it hurts you?" He stepped closer, his armor rising aggressively.

"Wing isn't the issue," Dai Atlas hissed at his mate, turning as his armor flared in matching aggression along with his wings. "That Decepticon triple traitor's continued functioning is. Now there must be a trial ... or I handle it myself and take the consequences."

Blue optics flashed with shock. "Wing would not want you to do that. Neither would Starspark, or Titan. Nor would I. Don't do anything foolish!" The black mech advanced, seizing hold of his mate's arm. At this range neither of them could stop the bond from spooling open along their fields. The hate that Axe has long known his mate bore toward Drift had coalesced into something very dark in Dai Atlas' spark. After losing so many creations, including the one his mate had carried, he thought he knew how bad things could get. This was on an entirely new level. It wasn't driven by pain, but by something Axe almost thought was jealously.

Before the black mech could pursue that thought, both their comms pinged with a top-priority message from Redline to get their afts down to the medical bay.

Effectively distracted from their fight, Axe blinked at his mate for a moment, then turned and headed for the door, wondering what was going on, setting aside the unsettling revelations to be pondered later. ::Redline? What's going on?::

::Wing is still functioning,:: the medic replied, something that caused Dai Atlas to stumble before he caught himself and got into the air.

::What?:: the blue giant demanded.

Axe's engines stalled, the black and gold mech almost dropping out of the air before he caught himself. ::Wing... Wing is...:: Shock resonated through the bond.

::His spark is still in his frame,:: Redline repeated. ::He's very weak, but if he's stayed this long he's not going to give up before I get him put together. Just get here. He'll do better with a couple supporting fields close by.::

::We're on our way.:: Axe's engines roared, propelling him toward the medical tower as fast as his turbines could take him. Smaller fliers, enjoying the sun on their wings for the first time in thousands of vorns, scrambled to get out of his way. The big Knight barely even noticed them, all his attention on his destination.

~How can he be alive?~ Dai Atlas felt across the bond, shock and joy at the news suppressing everything else.

~Maybe... Maybe when he struck down the slaver, it stopped the spear just enough to keep it from piercing his spark chamber,~ Axe replied after a moment of thought, grateful for anything that put his mate in a more stable frame of processor. ~No one thought to check because we all thought he was deactivated... He looked deactivated.~

~Yes, he did. Maybe the spear was special,~ Dai Atlas murmured as they landed on the run, entering Redline's domain and skidding to a stop to look for the medic or their creation.

The medic barely glanced up as they came in, peeling shattered armor away from Wing's chest. Once the mangled plates were off and set aside, he looked up at them. "The spear tip left a deep gouge in his spark chamber, but did not pierce it. He was in deep stasis, which kept anyone from realizing he was still functional."

Axe leaned over, very gently placing a hand atop Wing's, peering into his chest to see the golden light of the young jet's spark glowing within its casing.

"So dim," Dai Atlas murmured even as his field reached out with love and support, seeking to make a connection with the field that had pulled so tightly around Wing's spark that the jet read as deactivated even to touch.

"He is very weak, but he's holding on with tenacity worthy of you two when you latch onto something." Redline's wings twitched slightly. "I know I have no chance of getting you two out of here now that you know Wing is still functional, so just try to stay out from underpede, please. I have a lot of work to do to get Wing back up and bouncing around the Citadel again."

The black and gold Knight's field brushed along Wing's closely-pulled field. "We will stay out of your way."

"Just tell us what you need," Dai Atlas promised as he drew his mate away from the table even as they extended their fields to keep in contact with their creation.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Systems booted up slowly, with the slow, methodical precision of medical overrides. Wing's whole frame ached, indicating that he'd gone through major repairs. His optics hadn't booted up yet, and his sensors were just starting to come online, but he could feel several energy fields brushing against his. He recognized all of them... The age and strength of Dai Atlas, Axe, slightly younger but just as strong, the bright warmth of Starspark, and the calm, relaxed field of Titanus. His family was there, all of them. Only one was missing... He didn't feel the guarded, edgy field of Drift anywhere.

Extending his own field to mingle with those so familiar fields and picking up the centered field that was Redline, Wing finally onlined his optics, looking around. They told him what his field had. His family had gathered, but Drift was absent.

"I'm sorry we thought you deactivated," Dai Atlas was the first to speak, the first to move forward and touch him.

"I thought I was about to deactivate when that spear struck me," Wing admitted, leaning into Dai Atlas' hand. "I don't blame you for not noticing that I wasn't. Don't blame yourself for it, either. You couldn't have known." Golden optics dimmed, a soft purr escaping his vocalizer.

"Wing." Starspark approached, reaching out to take her brother's other hand. Her features, nearly a mirror of her sire's, showed a mixture of relief and worry.

"I'm going to be fine," he assured her, assured them all. "Where's Drift?"

The innocent question unleashed everything Dai Atlas had managed to bury with worry and hope for Wing's survival. Even as he scrambled to pull his field back to protect Wing from the rage-pain-hate-will kill response the giant had, he knew it was too late.

"Shogun's been keeping an optic on him," Titanus said quietly.

Wing flinched, staring up at Dai Atlas in shock. "Dai, don't hurt him. Leave Drift alone! He didn't hurt me... He wouldn't hurt me. Drift is not the enemy!"

"He's a traitor at least three times over," Dai Atlas ground out, trying desperately not to let himself sink too far into the emotional chaos that the Decepticon created in him. "If you weren't trying to protect him in a situation he created you wouldn't have been injured."

"He was trying to fix his mistake," Wing insisted. "I know he won't hurt me. Dai, creator, please. Don't hurt him." Pleading golden optics lifted to meet Dai Atlas' red. "I can't lose him... He's what I've been searching for, for so long."

Axe blinked, rubbing his mate's upper back with one hand. "Pardon?"

"He betrayed his army, a deserter at best before you found him," Dai Atlas snarled, too wound up to be affected by his creation's pleading. "He betrayed us trying to escape. He betrayed them to us trying to 'fix' things. Do you have any grasp of what he's caused? We have to abandon Aelios, everything we've built. Another exodus. And you'd defend him still?"

Wing keened. "He wants to change, I know it. Dai, please."

~Calm down.~ Axe grasped his mate's shoulders firmly.

Starspark looked from her brother to her sire uneasily, her folded wings twitching against her back.

Titanus placed a hand on her shoulder lightly. ::It's not easy for a creator to accept that their creation has chosen a mate that is disapproved of,:: he commed her privately.

Long, wide blue and white wings trembled, caught between rage and pain. ~I can't,~ he eventually admitted. ~I can't calm down about that mech.~

~You're going to have to,~ Axe informed him. ~If Wing is so determined to keep Drift, he's going to defy you no matter what. Shogun has said that Drift no longer considers himself a Decepticon. And Drift clearly means a great deal to Wing.~

Wing slowly sat up on the medical berth, wincing at the ache in his frame. Wide golden optics remained on Dai Atlas as the giant trembled, struggling with what his mate said, what his creation wanted and what his spark and processors told him.

~Nothing but death will ever come to those around him,~ Dai Atlas struggled to explain the sanest of his objections, the only one that had any validity. Yet even he knew there was nothing valid about any of his objections outside of himself. "Keep your pet away from me," he ordered Wing, his tone cold and field full of hurt-filled acknowledgement of his place in the situation.

With that, Dai Atlas stalked away, all too aware that Wing would want to see Drift and if he saw Drift, he'd crush the mech and tear out his spark even if Wing was watching. Right or wrong, he was still ready to murder the mech.

Wing watched Dai Atlas leave, letting out a keen of distress. He didn't like being at odds with his creator, but he wanted to keep Drift, and didn't want to see him hurt.

Axe placed a gentle hand on Wing's back, rubbing between quivering wings. "He'll get over it, though it might take a long time. For now, try to be content that he's voluntarily walking away so you can see Drift. Now, what do you mean that he's what you've been searching for so long?"

Wing leaned into the touch, venting a sigh. "Drift is my one, the mecha who will complete me. I'm not sure how I know; I just do. My spark practically wants to leap from its casing to touch his." The young jet waved his hands helplessly, indicating that he couldn't find the right words to describe what he was feeling.

"Resonance," Axe vented softly. "That's spark resonance. I just hope the rest of the package works out. Spark resonance doesn't mean the rest of the mech is going to be easy to have."

The little white jet blinked. "Resonance?" He pondered that for a moment. "So this is spark resonance..."

"I can go retrieve Drift," Titanus offered, shifting a folded wing. "Less chance of any surprise encounters with Dai."

"True," Axe nodded. "Just be careful, Wing," he looked at his creation seriously. "Just because Drift has spark resonance with you does not mean he understands what it is. I've heard stories of mecha like him panicking when it sinks in that something has that much power over him. Now enjoy greeting your lover. I'm going to see about dragging Dai back to the land of the sane."

Titanus' optics went briefly out of focus as he commed Shogun, vanishing a moment later. One of the medical interns, cleaning equipment, almost jumped right out of her armor at his sudden disappearance, getting a chuckle from Redline.

Golden optics lifted to meet Axe's blue. "I hope you can get him to come around... I don't like the thought of having to hide from him."

"You don't have to hide," Axe assured him with a gentle smile. "Just keep Drift out of his sight. I doubt he could control himself right now," he added before walking away.

"I'm still keeping an optic on Drift, so he and I will be together more often than not," Wing pointed out. "So keeping him away from Dai will involve some hiding." He watched Axe leave, then shifted on the berth, waiting.

The big teleporter reappeared a klik later, one hand on Shogun's shoulder, the other firmly on the back of Drift's shoulders, keeping the squirming grounder from getting away. Titanus released Shogun first, pushing Drift slightly toward the berth where Wing was sitting.

Two stumbled steps forward and Drift had his balance again, giving a glare over his spaulder at Titanus before focusing on Wing. "Seems you're as hard to kill as I am."

The teleporter only smiled serenely before walking away, disappearing mid-step. Starspark was moments behind him.

Wing perked up, wings fluttering. "It certainly seems so." He reached out to touch white armor, running his palm along Drift's arm. He felt the desire flare hot under his fingers, the quiver of white armor.

"So when are you getting turned loose?" Drift managed to focus past his base desires.

"As soon as Redline says I can leave." Wing glanced at the medic, who was going over all of the readings.

Hearing his designation, Redline looked up. "You're cleared to return to your quarters, but you need to rest and refuel."

"Good," the jet grinned and hopped up from the berth. "I'll be good."

"Since when?" Drift snorted.

"Just go with it so that Red will let me out of here," Wing told Drift in a stage whisper, optics glowing playfully, gently nudging the white grounder with his elbow.

The medic shook his helm at them, clearly amused. "Shoo, both of you."

Wing trilled and pulled a mostly unresisting Drift towards the door, remembering well how the grounder took to flying. Drift remained silent until they reached Wing's quarters. As soon as the door shut and locked, Wing found himself pinned between the wall and Drift, the grounder's armor already distinctly warm. A black hand moved between them, groping at Wing's valve cover.

Trill became purr, Wing's valve cover snapping open, lubricant already starting to seep between the platelets. His hands came up, stroking over Drift's back, exploring the planes of his New Crystal City armor. The young jet tilted his helm slightly, leaning forward to press a light kiss to Drift's lips.

Unlike previous attempts, this time Drift didn't turn away, though whether he returned it was debatable. Still, his fingers were reasonably gentle as two pressed into Wing's valve. Then Drift's mouth was against Wing's throat, nipping cables lightly. "You knew he was going to do that, bring the army out."

"I wasn't sure," Wing admitted. "I had thought that the other Knights would come, but not that the city would rise, or that he would arm the citizens." He shifted one leg out of the way to give Drift better access to his valve. His spark was flaring frantically, trying to convince the one so close to it to come out so they could complete each other.

Strong fingers pumped his valve, teasing the lining and the sensors inside while his field was treated to the burning arousal building inside Drift.

It was difficult for Wing to keep his chestplates closed, locking the armor plates down. He worked his fingers into an armor seam, one hand exploring Drift's spaulder, seeking a sensitive seam or a sensor node under the white plating. Matching arousal rose inside the white jet, a moan escaping as his valve nodes were stimulated, the calipers trying to close down on Drift's fingers as they would a spike.

That was what finally drew a shudder from Drift and he pulled his fingers free to drive his spike inside the pulsing space of Wing's valve with a moan. His lubricant-coated fingers came up to press against Wing's lip plates.

The young jet's lips parted, his glossa flicking out to curl around Drift's fingers, savoring the taste of his own lubricants. Purr picking up in volume and intensity, Wing wrapped his arms around Drift's frame, lifting his leg, offering his dripping valve to the pounding pleasure he knew was coming.

With a growl that was pure arousal Drift thrust in deep, his reparations already picking up at the duel stimulation. His fingers pressed in and out of Wing's oral cavity in a similar beat to his hips driving against Wing's. As much as he was chasing his own pleasure, he was aware of his lover's and sought to bring more.

Wing's glossa flicked at the pads of Drift's fingers, his sparkling golden optics meeting Drift's blue. The jet's purr made his plating vibrate, sending tingles down Drift's arm from the digits in Wing's mouth. The white jet shifted his hips slightly to adjust the angle, Drift's spike running over another set of nodes, drawing a purring moan from Wing's vocalizer.

Slowly Drift's optic covers closed, his mouth open slightly as he gave himself over to the pleasure and the strange sense of safe he had when alone with Wing. The jet had earned his respect, delighted in his passion, accepted his nature and drove him to better himself as Megatron had in those early orns before he became a warlord.

The jet's dark palms smoothed down Drift's back, flirting with the armor seams and plate edges. His field wrapped around the white grounder's, bright and warm, the jet's purr almost a caress in itself. His valve calipers rippled in a complex rhythm along Drift's spike as it slid in and out of the welcoming slick heat and tightness.

Drift grunted and drove his hips forward harder, the charge beginning to pick up intensity that radiated from his spike outward to the rest of his systems. With his face pressed against Wing's throat, his optics off and all his attention focused on the building pleasure of that rhythmic slide, his voice was nearly inaudible.

"Glad you didn't die," Drift whispered.

Wing's throat vibrated as he purred. "I didn't want to leave you," he murmured, tilting his helm to lick along a white audial finial. He could feel the overload getting ready to crest in Drift and squeezed a little tighter around the spike delivering such pleasure. It felt so good to have this welcome after almost deactivating. To feel his resonant's spark so close to his, whether or not Drift was ready to merge. It was enough that Drift wanted him.

A growling moan rumbled up from Drift's chassis as his hands tightened on Wing's hips. A few hard thrusts and he roared his release, pumping thick ribbons of hot transfluid deep into Wing.

The jet's high keen answered Drift's roar, Wing's frame stiffening against Drift's, his valve tightening around his lover's spike, milking it of every last drop of transfluid. Slender wings fluttered against the wall as Wing's fingers hooked into an armor seam, tips stroking over the circuitry underneath until both their frames were locked in the maelstrom of loose energy that was an intense overload.

Vents wide open and fans on high, they remained still for a long moment, the wall and Drift's angle pinning Wing against it the only thing keeping them upright. Mingled fields sang with the pleasure they'd just shared and Wing's sought to coax a bit more intimacy from its lover.

Wing rubbed his frame against Drift's, brushing his cheek against the white grounder's. His field wrapped itself around Drift, mingling with his lover's, the jet's spark still pulsing wildly. Lifting one hand, he stroked the back of Drift's neck, under the edge of his helm. It felt so good to be this close, to have Drift feel content and safe. He knew, just on their fields, that they'd both be in recharge before Drift stopped driving him to overload after overload.