"Knockout! Knockout, wake up!"
He rolled over and grumbled in irritation. One red optic slitted open to look at her. "What do you want?"
Her little lips quivered. "I had a bad dream. Airachnid told me to shut up and get back in stasis. But I'm scared."
Knockout groaned and rubbed his helm, amazed that she had sneaked this far across the ship past the drones on night watch just to come see him. Woke him up in the middle of the night just because she was scared . . .
"Nightstalker, it's the middle of the night."
"I know! But I'm scared . . ."
"And what do you expect me to do?"
She looked up with big orange optics. "Can I recharge with you?"
Knockout's optics widened at the pitiful hope there. "Uh-uh," he said, shaking his head. "Not a chance. This paint job isn't going to get ruined by your squirming all night."
"I won't squirm," the little femme said, wingtips fanning a little. "I'll stay perfectly still, I promise."
Knockout groaned again, flopping his face back into his berth. "Look, what was honestly so bad that you can't just go back to sleep?"
Nightstalker's tiny peds shuffled. "Well . . . I don't know . . ."
"You don't even know what you dreamed about? Seriously?"
"Well—!" Her little lips puckered up, and she stamped her foot in a typical sparkling fit. "I can't really remember! It was just dark, and I was alone, and I heard Fli-Ni screaming for help . . . I couldn't find him . . . Some other stuff . . . It was dark."
Knockout's spark deflated, and he felt the stress emanating from the tiny sparkling. Oh no. He wasn't falling for those big orange optics again. He didn't care what it was, she might promise not to move in the night, but she always squirmed and shifted and tossed back and forth like a rabid little bot. And his paint job would take the punishment.
But, he could feel her unrest through his spark, and whether he liked it or not, that worry melted his spark every time and he couldn't do a thing in Pit to stop it.
I knew I shouldn't have saved that little sparkling, I knew it . . .
Instead, he rolled his optics and flopped onto his stomach. "Fine."
Nightstalker squealed happily and clambered into his berth with him, and he set his jaw, refraining from sharp words as she squirmed into a comfortable position, paint chaffing against his. She cuddled up beneath his armpit before she settled down, snuggling as close to him as possible.
"Thanks, Knockout."
His half mumbled "welcome" died in her audio receptors and was replaced with something else. What was he saying? What was that? What's up? Why was he saying what's up? No, not that . . . Wa—Wait . . . Wake up?
"Nightstalker! Wake up!"
Oh yes, that made better sense. She was in a heavy recharge, she could feel it now. And . . . Wait. Wake up? Oh! Wake UP!
Nightstalker opened her optics to a face she hadn't seen in a long time. She blinked, and he backed off with a gruff clearing of his throat.
"Took you long enough. Primus, first I could never get you sleep, and now I can never get you up . . ."
Nightstalker smiled. "Knockout!" She sat up, faint annoyances of pain still in her chest, but for the most part, the Insecticon's attack on her had been healed up. "Wait-Megatron!"
Knockout waved an unimpressed hand. "Yeah, he's fine . . ." He returned with a flashlight. "Follow the light."
Nightstalker sputtered as he pointed the shining light in her face. She swatted it away. "Knockout!" she squealed, and she threw her arms around the touch-a-phobic medic. He yelped and froze, afraid of moving and scratching up his paint job.
"Look, would you-Let go! I don't have time for this!"
"I missed you too!" she laughed, and she let go to see him brusquely brush the front of his chassis with a wrinkle of his face. She grinned and jumped back up on the medical berth, kicking her legs happily. "Gosh, I haven't seen you in . . . Well, a long time! How's it been?" She craned her head around the familiar medical lab. "Where's Breakdown?"
Knockout shifted. "Dead."
All the happiness of seeing her Decepticon friends again deflated. Nightstalker swallowed, a bit shocked at first, but then, almost immediately, she felt herself missing the stupid guy. Yeah, he was still stupid . . . right?
"What happened? How long have I been out? Was it the Autobots?" Oh please Primus, DON'T let it be the Autobots that did it . . .
"Airachnid," was Knockout's gruff reply. He pointed that flashlight again, repeating, "Follow the light."
Nightstalker scowled and pushed past the flashlight again. "I don't need standard check up, I'm fine!" she burst. Then, with several indefinite gestures, she asked, "Doesn't it bother you? That Breakdown's gone?"
"I don't dwell on the past, I just try to keep my skin alive now," was all Knockout would answer. He twirled the flashlight a moment before arching a brow at her and putting it away.
"But—But . . ." Nightstalker rubbed her forehead, trying to come to grasps with the fact that Decepticons were different than Autobots. Breakdown was easily replaced-and she had a feeling that he had been replaced by Dreadwing.
She sighed heavily, crossing her arms and fluttering her wings as she looked around. He might have just been there to pick on, but . . . She had known him since she was a kid. She missed him, in all his dorkiness.
A frustrated sound came from Knockout. "Look, people die in war. Just—get over it."
Nightstalker glared at him. "You get over it. Get over yourself!"
There was a pause as Nightstalker turned away from him, angry and hurt on the inside. Finally, she heard a sigh decompress from Knockout.
"Look. There's nothing we can do about it."
"I know."
"Why are you taking it so personally anyways?"
"He was a friend." She looked over at Knockout, arching an almost accusing brow. "Why AREN'T you taking it personally? He was your partner for years!"
Knockout shifted and didn't say anything, and that was when Nightstalker realized that yes, he did care. He just didn't want to, that way, he wouldn't . . . he wouldn't hurt.
She deflated again. "Knockout . . ."
He scowled as he turned to face her. "Don't you pull that crap with me," he said. "Quit being guilty over something you can't change."
Nightstalker opened her mouth to shoot back a barbed reply, but then she stopped and back tracked. "Knockout? How the scrap did you know I was guilty?"
His optics widened as if he hadn't realized he had said that. His mouth worked a second, too shocked to say anything more, and then he tried to brush it off. "Of course I could tell," he told her confidently. "Did you see your posture? And your tone of voice? Of course I could tell."
Nightstalker narrowed her optics and jumped to her feet. She jumped in front of him, poking his chest. "Don't you give me THAT crap," she shot right back. Knockout backed up a little. "I can tell a lie when I see it. And—And come to think of it, you've ALWAYS known what I've felt! How do you do that? What is it? You're hiding something, Knockout, now fess up!"
"I'm not hiding anything!" he shouted back.
"Oh yes you are!" she said with a scowl. "You always have! You've always been weird around me, and I want to know why!"
He frowned right back at her. Then, he glanced over his shoulder to the closed door of his medical area before looking back at Nightstalker.
"Do you know what a secondary sloital artery is?"
She blinked. "What?"
"The secondary sloital artery of a spark," he repeated. "It stabilizes your spark. Without one, your spark can't beat properly."
Nightstalker made a face and shrugged her shoulders, lifting her hands. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"Everything!" he snapped. "It stabilizes your spark! And if you hook it to someone else, it synchronizes their spark beats!" When she still blinked, not getting it, the vain red medic scowled and slammed down his data pad. "Nightstalker," he said seriously, "the secondary sloital artery is the one people use when they are bonding." She blinked. "It's one of the links mechs and/or femmes use when creating a fraternal bond, a sororal bond." When she still just blinked, he scowled and shouted, "Nightstalker, I did that! I connected our sloital arteries! We're half siblings!"
Nightstalker stared, quite literally too taken aback to do anything more. Knockout, frustrated at her lack of response, stalked around the room, muttering under his breath the whole way.
"Why'd you do that?"
Knockout turned, blinking stupidly at her. "Why? That's the best you could come up with?"
Feeling dumb, Nightstalker nodded.
Knockout gave a slow, sarcastic laugh. "That's all she can think of, of course . . ." He shook his head and hiked up a brow. "If you remember correctly, I had to do spark surgery on you when you were little to keep you from dying." Nightstalker nodded mechanically. He gave a vague gesture. "Your secondary sloital artery wasn't functional. You were dying without a steady spark beat. I had to buy some time to fix you a new artery and hooked you up to me in the process."
"To keep me from dying," Nightstalker repeated.
"That's what I said!" he barked in irritation. Knockout grumbled to himself, rubbing the back of his neck and scowling at the ground.
After staring at him a moment longer, Nightstalker finally realized she had a brother. A half brother, but a brother. She . . . hadn't had a brother since Fli-Ni. She had never even CONSIDERED a new brother, not even with Bumblebee . . . Her throat bobbed.
"Do you regret it?"
He looked up.
Nightstalker nodded, standing to her peds. "Do you regret it? Being my half brother?" All these years, and she'd never known . . . The connection to him was so faint and half-finished that she couldn't feel him . . .
Knockout's red optics dilated as he looked at her. Finally, he said, "No."
"Then why didn't you tell me?"
Knockout scowled then. He threw an arm out. "Of course I didn't want anyone to know! People take advantage of bonds like that, you know?"
"So you flirted with me to hide it."
He gave a vague shrug.
Nightstalker's throat tightened. With one bound, she had crossed the room and flung her arms around Knockout, hugging him tightly. Knockout yelped, but he held perfectly still, knowing better than to struggle or else they would scratch each other up.
"Nightstalker . . . Nightstalker, let go."
She swallowed around the lump in her throat. "That's why I made it, wasn't it?" she asked quietly. "That's why I made it through the spark break. Cause . . . Cause you were there, even if I didn't know it."
He still didn't move. "Nightstalker . . . let go."
She squeezed him tighter, amazed at this epiphany. All those years . . . and she had believed she owed her life to Megatron when really . . .
It was Knockout.
Nightstalker laughed then, and she squeezed him tight again, partially lifting him off the floor. He shouted about his paint job, so Nightstalker let him go with a grin. "You-You really are something else, aren't you?"
Knockout rolled his optics, inspecting himself for scratches. "Don't get too attached. This doesn't leave this room or I'll skin you alive."
Nightstalker chuckled, grinning at him. "Yeah, I hear you." But, she was still giddy on the inside, practically bouncing off the walls in her happiness. A half brother! Who would have thought?
"Knockout."
Both Knockout and Nightstalker jumped at Dreadwing's deep voice. She whirled, seeing the great Decepticon in the doorway. Knockout stepped forward.
"What is it, Dreadwing?"
The Decepticon seeker's optics wouldn't leave Nightstalker. She felt a prickle run up her spine. He knew her mother. And, obviously, he knew her.
"Leave."
Knockout sputtered. "L-Leave? My own office? You can't just barge in demanding that—"
"Leave," Dreadwing repeated. He pinned his hard optics on the medic. "I must speak with Nightstalker alone."
Knockout glanced back to her, and she gave a slight motion to let him know it was all right. He clearly didn't like being booted out of his own office, but he left with a last glance to them.
The door whizzed shut behind him. Dreadwing glared at Nightstalker, and she backed up into the berth. Dreadwing walked forward until the full brunt of his frown was on her.
"You know my mom. How?"
His optics flickered. "You are her daughter," he finally said tightly. "You—"
"No, I asked how you knew my mother," Nightstalker interrupted, glaring up at him. "I know who I am. Who are you, and how do you know my mother?"
"I was her spark mate."
Another punch in the gut. Nightstalker felt the breath expel from her in a whoosh, and she sat completely down on the medical berth. She looked up with wide optics, spark fluttering so hopeful she thought she would explode. "Y-You mean . . . You're my—"
"You are not mine," he snarled with sudden anger, optics flashing dangerously. Nightstalker winced, hopes crushed as quickly as they had formed. "That glitch went and—" He cut off, fuming as he stalked several strides away. His shoulders were tense as he fought some inward struggle Nightstalker couldn't understand.
Then, her mind began to put several things together. He was her mom's spark mate. He wasn't her dad. But that could only mean . . .
Her optics widened. "Are you . . ." When her voice was nothing more than a whisper, she cleared her throat and tried again. "Are you . . . Fli-Ni's father?"
He winced. His chin came up, but his back was to her. "Yes."
Hot tears suddenly sparked in her optics. But . . . But . . . "Do you know . . . what happened to him?"
"No."
Nightstalker swallowed. Trembling, she hitched up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. "S-Someone killed him." Dreadwing whirled, giving his undivided attention to her.
"Who did it?"
She shook her head. "I—I don't know. It happened in Kaon . . . When the Decepticons—"
"Were routing the femmes and sparklings," Dreadwing snarled. "I know." He turned away again, wings tense, hands on his hips. There was a heavy beat of silence. "Ampere died in that massacre, didn't she?"
Nightstalker shook her head. "No. It was a sickness. She died well before then."
His optics flicked to her. "You and Fli-Ni had no one to care for you?"
She shook her head again. "No. Fli-Ni took care of me, and I tried to take care of him. We were on the streets."
Dreadwing's jaw clenched. "Then where was your father?" he demanded angrily, throwing an arm out to her. "Who was he, and why wasn't he taking care of you?"
"I don't know who he is!" Nightstalker snapped back, optics glaring at him. "I don't know where he was! Where were YOU?" His lips slanted. "Why weren't YOU taking care of us!"
When he failed to answer, Nightstalker blinked back her frustrated tears. "So? Then if you don't know what, who's my father? Do you know who he was?"
"No," he said flatly. "If I did, he wouldn't be functional."
Nightstalker leapt to her feet again in agitation. She glared angrily up at Dreadwing. "So what happened? Why'd you leave?"
He gave a dark laugh. "Didn't your mother ever tell you? She was ashamed of the mech she was bonded to."
Nightstalker blinked the tears back again. "She changed Fli-Ni's helm."
"And disgraced me."
Nightstalker's throat worked hard as she tried to keep all the facts straight. "But—So . . . and . . ."
"She left me for someone else," Dreadwing growled. His servos clenched, and he growled in frustration and anger. "And you—" and he gestured indefinitely to her before he was so furious he couldn't say anything at all.
Fli-Ni's father was Dreadwing. So he was her step-father. Knockout was her half-brother. She still didn't know who her father was or who killed Fli-Ni. Nightstalker pressed both palms to the front of her helm, trying to come to grips with it all. And—she had started to look to Optimus as a father, but . . . Dreadwing . . . he was her step-father!
Her helm snapped up. "Dreadwing—!"
But he was gone. Nightstalker ran from the room, intending to follow him, but all she heard was the faint roar of engines fading down the numerous halls.
Primus slag that 'Con to Pit, she was never going to get anymore straight answers out of him if he kept running from the situation!
Author's Note:
ERMERGERD DID I ACTUALLY GIVE SOME ANSWERS? ^^ lmao
Ah, and now we get really interesting... :D
Once again, thanks for all the favorites and reviews, I love hearing you guys!