Real continuation to "Lord Starscream's pet cactus". Don't ask.
Disclaimer: I Don't own anything
Rating: T (BE WARNED: contains death. If you have lost someone dear to you, you might not want to read this, even if the basis is that of a humorous nature)
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The cactus that will never be
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A chilly wind blew across the deck of the Nemesis. It was already late in autumn and the two Vehicons stared quietly over the edge of the ship. It was hard to believe, but the troopers were being emotional.
"You know, Greg, it… It was a good cactus…" Steve swallowed, holding back a whine in his voice box.
His companion was silent and a gust of cold air slapped against their faceplates. Clouds drifted below them.
"I…" Steve continued, encouraged by his fellow 'Con's silence. "I didn't even know if it was a she or a he, but… And I only knew it for a day or so, but…. We had this… This kind of a connection, you know? Like, we had always known each other…"
"Mmmhm…"
There had been rain earlier, a decent downpour that had left all in a dull shade of gray; the sky, the ship, the spirit of the troopers. But now, the sky was blazing in the glow of the setting sun, gashes of deep red between light orange and white whisks of dying clouds dotting the scenery.
The Seeker had ached and wept after his beloved cactus that had met its early demise by falling off the ship: down, down and until, inevitably, hitting the ground with a spark-shattering crash. The crew of the Nemesis (especially Knock Out in his position as crew medic) had had to feel the Commander's (LORD!) pain -as their own.
Surprisingly, Greg let out a shallow sigh and his whole composure drooped slightly.
"It…." He began. "It was, indeed, a good cactus. Well cared for, well-liked, a bright future ahead of it… And… Yeah."
"…Yeah…." His friend echoed.
They stood in silence. After a while, Greg cleared his voice box and shook his head. "We better get back to work."
Steve nodded absentmindedly. He crouched by the edge and looked down. Winds swirled underneath. The Vehicon put down the bouquet of lilies he had been holding and a packet of the-best-you-can-buy fertilizer. A drop of lubricant fell from his visor and hit one of the lilies. It glittered in the light of the setting sun.
Their retreating steps rang in the cool outdoor air for a while before dying out to join the constant, steady humming of the ship's engines.
A bit on the melancholy side, perhaps. My apologies if I have awoken not wanted feelings.
Comments, reviews, requests and ideas are all welcome and appreciated. (and wanted.)