Finally an update! Now that it's summertime and finals are done I should be able to get updates up faster in between work and sports.
Hope you guys enjoy!
0o0o0o0
Everything was blurry and out of focus.
And his helm hurt.
It hurt a lot.
And his limbs were stiff and shaky as he tried to move them.
What happened?
Bluestreak shifted on the berth. His doorwings were pinned painfully beneath him.
He didn't really know how he'd gotten there, but he recognized the where.
The Autobot Medbay?
When he delved into his memory banks, he was met with a wall of fuzzy memories and voices. Bluestreak shook his helm, resulting in white-hot bursts of agony.
Groaning, the sniper offlined his optics and lay his helm back onto the cool metal of the medical berth.
It wasn't until a good amount of time had passed that he could online his optics again. The pain had settled into a dull ache.
Tolerable. Bluestreak decided, and proceeded to push himself into a sitting position. His doorwings fluttered wildly as dizziness nearly overwhelmed him.
What happened?
Obviously something. Something important maybe.
His processor felt like it had been torn to pieces and then reassembled and there was this empty, slightly painful pulse in his spark and he felt like he'd lost something important but he didn't know what it was.
He wondered what it was.
Was there someone here who could tell him?
Scanning the Medbay, Bluestreak spotted Prowl.
The tactician obviously wasn't awake.
He must've come to visit me! A shaky grin presented itself on Bluestreak's faceplates. He's okay!
Bluestreak started to swing his legs over the side of the berth. They didn't want to work, and his systems protested, but the Datsun made them work. He could wake Prowl up and they could find Jazz and they'd be okay and- the fast flow of thoughts stopped in its tracks as Bluestreak's gaze wandered away from Prowl: one berth down, Jazz lay in it.
Even Bluestreak's fuzzy processor could pick up the stray details.
Jazz's gray, cracked frame and the I.V that was inserted deep into Prowl's arm. The life support machines that surrounded them both. And their arms, dangling off the sides of their respective berths, fingers brushing but not quite touching.
Bluestreak lurched forward, falling off the berth with a strangled cry as everything that had happened hit him like a tidal wave.
"No! No!" He screamed, scrabbling back, pressing against the wall between the berths, tears brimming at his optics.
I-I-I shot him- I killed him!
He couldn't get the images out of his processor. Vents quickened and tears spilled over as Bluestreak screamed.
I shot him! I killed him!
The sounds of pedesteps didn't register until servos were on him. Unknown servos.
"No! G-Get away!" Bluestreak pushed the servos away anyway he could, even resorting to kicking with his useless legs.
"Blue! Blue! It's me!" A familiar set of vocalizers shouted.
I-I recognize this voice.
Bluestreak stopped kicking and shoving suddenly, allowing himself to be bundled into Sideswipe's arms.
"It's not your fault." The red frontliner murmured, "It's not your fault he offlined."
"I killed him." Bluestreak sobbed into Sideswipe's armor, his chest plates heaving.
"No you didn't." Sideswipe said firmly, "The Decepticons killed Jazz. You didn't."
His fingers brushed over Bluestreak's helm, causing tendrils of pain to unfurl their oozing tentacles inside the sniper's processor.
He froze, shoving away from the Lamborghini desperately, fresh tears pouring from his optics,
"Whoa, Blue! What is it?" Sideswipe asked, alarmed.
Bluestreak's servos found their way to his helm, where they clenched the gray metal protectively.
"Don-don't touch my helm." He gasped through clenched delta.
Suddenly Sideswipe was yanked aside, Sunstreaker worming in next to him. The golden warrior's sky blue optics were open and sincere. "We won't touch your helm. I promise."
"O-okay." Bluestreak relaxed a little bit but his servos never left his helm.
"Will you come recharge with us tonight?" Sunny asked quietly, "First Aid said you could leave if you wanted."
"Why-why are you guys in the Medbay?"
"We were getting the saltwater flushed from our systems." Sideswipe said.
"You-you guys were in the o-ocean?!" Panic flickered across Bluestreak's faceplates.
"Well we were actually.." The red twin trailed off when Sunstreaker shot him a warning look.
"It's not important." He said hurriedly.
Bluestreak nodded slowly, his optics glazing over with a fine mixture of confusion, exhaustion, and dull agony.
Sideswipe's optics softened, and he nudged his brother.
Sunstreaker turned his gaze to the sniper.
He looked terrible. And exhausted.
Moving carefully, the golden frontliner slid his arms underneath Bluestreak's, pulling him forward and slightly sideways enough to be able to slide one arm underneath his legs and hoist him up, carrying him bridal style.
Bluestreak struggled briefly, more tears streaming from his optics, before realizing that Sunny wasn't trying to help him.
He relaxed, offlining his optics.
He could almost imagine that he was being carried by Wheeljack instead of Sunstreaker, who was like a brother to him.
Who was he kidding. Wheeljack loved Ratchet.
Not him. Never him.
The thought made his spark ache.
They were probably together right now...
More tears sprang to his optics.
Sideswipe must've noticed because his voice came from somewhere to the right.
"It's okay, Blue. You're safe now. We'll protect you."
But that's not what I'm crying about.
o0o0o0o0
Bluestreak must've fallen into recharge, because when he next onlined his optics he was in an empty berth.
He pushed himself up with shaky arms, vents hitching at the pain in his- well, everywhere really.
Everything hurt. And the feeling that he'd lost something important hadn't left, either.
Turning his helm to the side, he saw Sunstreaker perched on the edge of a second berth.
The golden warrior's optics were fixed on the Datsun, as if gauging every flit of expression or twitch of doorwings.
"How long was I out?" He croaked.
Sunstreaker shifted his weight, a thoughtful expression crossing his faceplates.
"About twelve hours." He answered finally, "After 'Aid woke you up for the first time."
"Since.. Since I was held captive by the Decepticons?" Bluestreak meant to sound calm, but his words came out as a squeak.
A ghost of a smile appeared on Sunny's face. It was almost wistful. "Yeah. Everything happens so fast, doesn't it?"
"I feel like... I feel like I lost something important." Bluestreak told him, rubbing at his chestplates, "My spark feels achy. And empty."
Sunstreaker hesitated, optics darting down. Bluestreak could've sworn he saw a solitary tear drop from one of the frontliner' optics.
"Yeah." He said after a long pause, "I suppose it feels like that after losing a sparkmate."
The sniper's wings fluttered with surprise, "W-who was my sparkmate?"
Sunstreaker sighed, "First Aid did say that, in the healing process, you would experience some amnesia." He glanced back up, meeting Bluestreak's optics, "Wheeljack was. And he was.. He was killed trying to rescue you."
0o0o0o0
When Sideswipe entered the quarters an hour later, he found Bluestreak and Sunstreaker huddled in his berth. Bluestreak was recharging in the golden Lamborghini's arms, dried tear tracks staining his cheeks.
As if on cue, Sunny's optics flashed online and he glanced at Sides, his expression making very clear what he couldn't say out loud: be silent.
Sideswipe nodded and flopped into his brother's berth, utterly exhausted.
Normally, after a rough mission, Sunny and him would recharge together, tangled together in the same berth.
This time, he was stuck on his own.
There was really no argument that Blue needed comfort more than he did.
Poor kid.
0o0o0o0
"Stupid idiots! Primaslagging failures!" Galvatron spat, rage radiating from him in waves as he faced his inner circle. "You let them escape!"
Starscream looked annoyed and undignified, Cyclonus was avoiding his gaze, a remorseful expression resting heavily on his faceplates, Scourge had his customary scowl on, and Soundblaster just stood there, unresponsive.
As usual.
Galvatron growled, "Soundblaster, you better have something pleasing to report."
The spymaster stepped forward, dipping his helm in acknowledgement.
"Task: monitoring Autobot Bluestreak. Status: Completed. Status: mind control program is still active: but weak. Would have to tamper directly with Autobot's neural program. Requirement: supplies."
Galvatron nodded, "Continue."
"Objective: require supplies from human laboratory twenty point one two five miles south."
"Anything else?" The purple warlord demanded impatiently.
Soundblaster hesitated before answering, "Life signs detected at space coordinates. Location: Autobot burial vessel."
"Interesting. We must investigate." Galvatron nodded before sharpening his gaze and glaring at the rest of his officers. "Consider yourselves lucky that you have escaped punishment for letting the Matrix slip away. Prepare my vessel!"
The order cracked out like a whip and sent his officers scurrying to do as he commanded.
Or face the consequences.
When he turned his back on them and stared at the screen, at that tiny little blip, and contemplated just how he would kill this Autobot, Galvatron allowed himself a small, triumphant smile. Maybe today was looking up after all.