Author's Note:
This chapter has also been truncated. Basically, it was Nightstalker and Cliffjumper's first interface and the challenges of teaching Nightstalker that she wasn't going to get hurt, hurdling the repercussions of the rape. It was sweet, and I think worth your time. If you want to read the unedited chapter, as always, PM me and I will gladly give you a link. :)
So, Arcee and Bumblebee and Cliffjumper all got their tails handed to them by Knockout using sound waves. One Omega Key was theirs, one Omega Key was lost to the 'Cons. Then, in a forest deep in Tennessee, Bulkhead and Smokescreen lost the Omega Key to the 'Cons because while Bulkhead stopped Dreadwing, he obviously had some back up that sucker punched Smokescreen from behind. The rookie was ate up with his first failure, and with both cruel and stern and supportive words (Arcee of the former, Bulkhead of the middle, and Nightstalker being of the latter) he was pulled out of his depressed slump. Not to mention, Bulkhead said he only left Dreadwing alive because he was her step-father. It bothered Bulkhead—that he was the mech that killed Seaspray and the mech that was her step-father. The former Wrecker had a great deal of mixed feelings toward the mech that he didn't know how to sort out.
And then, the real kicker—Smokescreen had the last Omega Key. And, after some very choice words with Arcee, had left and gotten captured by Soundwave.
THAT was just great. Arcee at least had the good decency to look carangid over the fact.
Now they were just waiting, trying to contact Megatron for ransom, trying to pinpoint the location of the NEMESIS for a rescue. Nightstalker also missed the kids. Raf most of all, with his cute little glasses that needed the nose pieces tightened, but she missed them collectively. The bots had been so busy they had kinda become lax in taking charge . . . but she guessed it was okay for now. Once the heat over these Omega Keys died down they could all relax again. After all, the stakes were so high it was a wonder they had enough time to rest in between missions!
Thus, what was going on with Nightstalker?
Oh, just an upgrade.
One she wasn't happy about, but was kinda happy about.
"At least you won't have to use this little thing anymore," Cliffjumper said that evening, snatching the baby machine gun from her servos. He twirled it idly and wrinkled his nose at it. "I can't believe you actually used this little toy."
"Well," Nightstalker said, a little affronted at his disregard of her weapon, "shoot yourself in the foot with it and see how much of a toy it is then."
Cliffjumper grinned cheekily and waggled his finger at her. "Now now, Nightstalker, it's not polite to play with other people's toys."
She crossed her arms and hiked up a brow and leaned forward. "Well, I'm giving you permission to play."
"Oh, but I might play a bit more than what you're thinking . . ."
Before she could stop it, Nightstalker blushed and looked away. Primus, slag it all to Pit! Everything he said was processed as a sexual innuendo! She made everything awkward . . . Was she really THAT deprived of an interface that she was this lascivious about everything? She could have smacked herself for being so awful.
Cliffjumper just shifted, getting better at handling her mood swings and kept going to fill the silence. "Anyways," he said, shoving the gun away in their tiny armory and pulling out another, "THIS is what you're going to use!"
Nightstalker blinked at the gun, nearly the same size and shape of her old one, and when Cliffjumper handed it to her with a grin, she found it was actually a little bit lighter, easier to move around.
"It's a little thing put together by Ratchet and me," Cliffjumper said. He came near her to point at it. "See, we both knew you wanted to be more useful, but all I could think of was that dinky little machine gun you use. Well, since you were so used to a machine gun, we designed this one to shoot the same, only this one has lasers, like Arcee's, that way you can hit harder and not run out of bullets! Right?"
Nightstalker turned it over in her hands, duly noting that it even had her color scheme. She bit her lip, smiling softly. "Yeah. Right."
"Right!" Cliffjumper said with a grin. "It's lighter since you're such a teeny little thing, and more compact, that way it'll fit in your back compartment easier. It does, right? Try it."
She was able to lift this new gun with one hand instead of two, and she found it lied neatly between her wings. She grinned, pulling it back out. "Yeah!"
Cliffjumper grinned, pleased that she liked it. "Yeah is right! High five!" Nightstalker smiled shyly and gave him the high five he asked for before he hurried across the room, pushing up the old, used dummy Nightstalker had used to practice on. He gave the thing a pat before backing away. "C'mon, give it a shot! More target practice, eh?" But, he cheekily backed up far until his back was on the far wall, a mock look of terror on his face.
Nightstalker wrinkled her nose and poked out her glossia. "I'm not THAT bad."
"Say that to the last time you shot me."
Nightstalker gaped at him. "That was . . . That was so long ago! I'm better now! And I'll prove it!"
Cliffjumper just gave a warm laugh as she whirled and very carefully took aim at the dummy, and she aimed lower, thinking of how her old gun had reacted, and shot. To her surprise, she completely missed the dummy, her several bullets of laser fire scorching the floor.
Cliffjumper cleared his throat. "Ah . . . There's less kickback now."
Nightstalker screwed up her lips. "Yeah. I figured that out real quick."
Taking aim again, lining up her shot, Nightstalker's wings fanned she was studying her dead foe so hard. Then, with a pull of the trigger, she let off a couple consecutive shots that drilled into the dummy. She gave a cry of triumph.
"Cliffjumper! Cliffjumper, it works!"
He had approached her when she hadn't noticed, and since he was in close range and she was running off a high of success, she threw her arms around him in an enthusiastic hug. Then, before he could even think about wrapping his arms around her, she jumped back, a bright blush staining her cheeks as her jaw gaped a moment.
"I . . . I . . ."
Cliffjumper just gave her an easy smile, waving off her worry. "Easy does it, Nights," he said, tone and words reminiscent of the same mood before their first kiss. "Relax. I'm not going to bite."
Nightstalker bit her lip hard, staring at him. Why couldn't she ask? She been trying for so long now she thought she would never get the words from between her lips. "I—I . . ."
She dipped her head, and Cliffjumper eyed her with wary worry. "Nights?" he asked softly. "What is it? What's wrong?"
Her throat bobbed. Her wings fluttered. She dropped her head. "U-Um . . . it's a . . . lot to ask of you . . ."
A small sigh decompressed from his body. "Nights, whatever it is, I'm sure I can help. Don't be shy."
Her wings fluttered a little more. One servo stole up to hold her elbow. "Um . . . Would you—I mean, I don't want . . . Megatron . . ." She blinked back the tears before looking up at him with clear optics. "Cliffjumper, I don't want my last time to be with Megatron. I want . . . would you . . . interface with me?"
The energon drained from him. His throat tightened.
Oh Primus . . .
Instead of vocalizing how scared he had suddenly become, he asked, "Are you sure?"
She nodded vigorously. "Very. I don't want Megatron—I don't want . . ." She trailed off again, orange optics blinking up at him pleadingly.
He felt his spark slowly shatter to pieces at the raw trust she was placing in him. She was scared. It hurt him just to see her so fragile before him. Swallowing his own worry, Cliffjumper knew exactly why she was doing this—exactly why he needed to do this. Exactly why he should . . . and why he wanted to.
"All right," he said softly. He cleared his throat, stopping the rasp. He jerked a thumb vaguely behind him. "Well, uh . . . Um, my berth or yours?"
Nightstalker blinked up in shock. "Y-You mean," she stuttered, "You mean you don't . . . don't find me disgusting?"
Cliffjumper's optics widened in horror. "W-Wha—No! What, are you kidding me? Primus, Nightstalker, don't say that!" He grabbed her servos, hands tightening on hers. "Don't you ever believe for a second anything Megatron told you, hear me? All right?"
Shamefully, Nightstalker began to cry. Cliffjumper hushed her as well as he could, holding her hands close and kissing her fingers as she her systems hiccupped, "I—I thought—I thought you were going to—to think I was just a—"
"Don't even say what you're thinking," Cliffjumper interrupted her softly. He paused a moment, and then, he leaned down, scooping her up into his arms and carrying her bridal style to his recharge room. Nightstalker flailed a moment before settling comfortably into his arms, comforted by the strength they held.
He brought her to his berth room, closing the door behind him, and he sat her quivering body on the edge of his berth before sitting down next to her. He kept one of her hands in his, watching her wings flutter.
"Nightstalker—"
"Okay, I'm really scared and nervous, and you've gotta stop if I say stop, June anything could trigger a relapse of fear, you've gotta stop if I say stop, can you stop? You have to be able to stop."
Cliffjumper waited out her panicked, stumbling words as his thumb slowly soothed over the back of her hand. "Easy does it, Nights," he rumbled. "I can stop. We both know that." Yeah, that was right, she did . . . "And if it gets too much, tell me. We'll stop. If I touch you wrong, tell me. I won't touch you like that again. Anything you don't want me to do, anything you want me to do—tell me. You're calling the shots, all right? You're in charge. I promise."
Nightstalker nodded as certainly as she could. She squeezed his servo tightly. "Thanks," she whispered, feeling a little better about this leap of faith because of his promises. With a deep breath, Nightstalker lied back on the berth. "Okay. Okay . . ." Her jaw tightened as she waited for him to begin, and she squeezed her optics shut, taking even and controlled breaths.
For a second, nothing happened. At first Nightstalker thought he had given up before they even started, but then, she heard him murmur, "Nights . . . Open your optics."
A moment, and she opened them in confusion. His optics were a little sad, but a little of something else affectionate smoldered inside him. "I want you to see," he whispered softly, "that I'm not Megatron." Like that, he lifted the hand he held, kissing her palm and wrist, the very wrist Megatron had broken.
*scene truncated*
Cliffjumper touched a sweet kiss to her lips before bunching her tired body to his chassis, wrapping his powerful arms around her. She snuggled close, sighing in peaceful contentment.
"Thanks," she whispered softly.
His lips brushed tenderly over her helm. "You're welcome," he rumbled back.
Her fingers tightened on his chest as their protoform molded to each other. "Cliffjumper, I . . ." Hot tears beaded again in her optics before she could stop it. She swallowed, fighting them back, not wanting to ruin the moment with more crying. "I've never felt so safe in my entire life."
His strong arms tightened, her safe haven. "I'll never let him hurt you again," he murmured. He pressed his face to hers, spark aching with desperate passions to know she was finally his and no one else's. "I promise, I'll fill every broken part of you. I'll protect you, Nights, I promise . . ."
She cuddled as close as possible, comforted by his promises, liberated by her overload, and protected in his strong embrace. A nameless emotion surged up in her chest, something so strong that she had never felt like before. Cherishing. Sweet. She wanted to tell him how she felt, but she couldn't find the word to place the powerful emotion. Instead, she just sighed, so content she wanted the world to freeze and never ever move again.