Hello! I have a couple disclaimers before we get started!
1. If you don't like the idea for this sequel- you don't have to read it! Though I tried to foreshadow the conflict, I also wanted to make the original work as a one off.
2. This is going to be a weird kind of amalgamation of AoE, TLK and AU. There's aspects I like of both so some things plot wise will be similar and some things/characters I'm not touching. I would like to give the series a satisfying ending unlike the bayverse...
Swan Song
...
Warm amber liquid shimmered as Aria placed shot glasses on a table. The nearest man seated there smiled up at her through the dim lighting of the club. She flashed a smile back before turning away and heading back to the bar.
Tanya finished mixing two drinks, sliding them in Aria's direction. She took them and headed out to the next table. The room lit up with pink light as the next dancer came up on stage, taking her place on a wooden chair. Aria placed the glasses down in front of the couple just as the sultry music began to play.
On her way back, the dark-haired man who had smiled at her waved her over.
"You never told us your name," he said, gesturing to his friend across from him.
She forced a smile, adverting her eyes from his blue ones and picking up the empty shot glasses. "Jules."
He wasn't deterred by her terse response. "Is that short for Julie or Julia or something?"
"Juliet."
"Oh like Romeo and Juliet? Is a rose still a rose if it was called by any other name?" he quoted.
"Yep, that's the one," she said, leaving the table before he had the chance to say anything else.
As soon as she got back to the bar, Addison raised her eyebrows. "Let me guess, you want to switch tables."
Aria put the empty glasses on the counter. "What was your first indication?"
"Dark hair, blue eyes, decently attractive. Pretty sure I just overheard a Romeo and Juliet quote too."
"Is she pawning off another table on you?" Tanya said, taking the glasses.
Aria sat on a stool beside Addison. "We're switching."
Addison brushed her black hair behind her ear. "Sure, you can have the touchy guy at table twelve."
Aria subtly turned toward the table where a bunch of rowdy men sat. "Which one's the touchy one?"
"Buzz cut at the end. Keeps grabbing my wrist."
"Alright, done." Aria took the drinks Tanya had made and put them on a tray.
She walked past the tables of people watching the dancer intently. The man with the buzz cut only looked up when she was right beside him.
"What happened to the other broad?" he asked, looking past her.
"She's just taking a break." Aria put the drinks down on the table. "Is there anything else I can get you?"
"How about your name, sweetie?"
Aria had to strain to keep the smile on her face. At least the other men at the table were busy watching the dancer.
"Jules. Anything else?"
As soon as he gave her a once over, she turned to walk away. A hand grabbed her wrist.
"Hey, don't you know it's rude to walk away when someone's talking to you?"
She went to pull her wrist from his grip only for it to tighten. "Don't you know it's rude to grab someone's arm?"
He twisted her wrist. "That's quite the scar."
"Let go of my arm."
He twisted it more to try and get a better look, only forcing harder as she resisted.
Finally, she grabbed his wrist with her free hand. She squeezed.
Squeezed until the man made a face.
It wasn't until his skin turned red around her hand that he let go. He rubbed the spot. "What the hell?"
"Is there a problem here?"
Both Aria and the man looked at the approaching security guard.
Aria lifted her reddening wrist. "Hey Pete, I believe this man needs to be escorted out."
As soon as Pete nodded at her, she turned and headed back to the bar.
Addison picked a peanut out of a nearby bowl. "I knew I could count on your freakish strength."
Aria followed her line of sight over to the table where the man was begrudgingly getting his coat. A few of his friends and people from other tables watched on now that the dancer left the stage.
"Serves him right. He didn't want to lose that little battle." Aria shook her head.
"Geez, remember when she came here to sing?" Tanya said to Addison. "This is the same girl that cried halfway through a song and ran off stage."
Aria turned back to them. "I was going through a breakup."
Tanya poured a drink. "And it's been two years. Won't sing, won't talk to a nice guy with dark hair and blue eyes, won't give any other guy the time of day."
"Just ask Rick not to make you sing La Vie en Rose or whatever other sappy love songs you don't want to."
"That's all we sing here."
As if making her point, another love song began to play.
"Waitressing makes more money anyway." Tanya put drinks in front of Aria and Addison, looking at the latter. "Plus, she deals with all the rowdy ones for you."
"This is very true—and appreciated," Addison added, raising her glass.
Tanya lifted hers as well. "Here's to Juliet's swan song. May she never sing again."
Aria clinked her glass with theirs and downed the liquid.
…
The smell of old curtains permeated Aria's nose as she opened the door to her motel room. Dropping her key and bag on the cherrywood desk beside the door, she pulled off her heels and immediately went to the bathroom to shower.
She unzipped the short black dress before pulling off the black tights that hid the scar on her leg. It seemed no matter how many years passed, her eyes still lingered on the marred skin that stretched from ankle to knee.
The scar on her forearm was nothing in comparison. Then there was the one on her chest, jagged and slightly discolored, almost like a birthmark. A permanent reminder that Eli had reached inside her body and pulled out a piece of it.
The warm water felt nice as it soaked her hair. The smell of soap disguised the musty odor of the old bathroom. Quiet. Peaceful.
At one time she would have sung.
"Hold me close and hold me fast
This magic spell you cast
This is La Vie en Rose"
It was the first time she sang on stage in over a year, yet it felt natural. The club was popular enough despite it being a small drive out of town. People had called it a destination stop for authentic music and dancing.
Rick, the owner, had her come in for an audition. So she bought a long velvet dress, did her hair and makeup, and sang in front of him and his wife Tanya, the bartender. She only had to sing two verses of the flower duet to secure a permanent spot.
"You don't mind debuting on Valentine's Day, do you?" he had asked. "You have the perfect voice for love songs."
"I would love the opportunity."
"That's perfect." He looked to Tanya. "We were just trying to figure out who we wanted to sing La Vie en Rose. You know that one, don't you?"
Aria looked between the two. "Yes, I do."
She had just managed to keep the hesitation from her voice.
And so, a week and a half later, she was on stage in the same velvet dress, singing a song she knew by heart.
She looked into the crowd. Four couples danced together, holding each other close and swaying to the sound of her voice. Beyond them were tables decorated with roses and candles. More couples and the odd table filled with friends.
Her eyes wandered further and further back into the room, to the tables furthest away. Maybe out of habit, or perhaps optimism.
And there, in the back corner was a man. Black hair, blue eyes, a jacket over his broad shoulders.
Her voice cracked. The note waivered.
It wasn't him.
Why would it be him?
He left her.
She tried to sing, but her eyes burned and tears fell down her face.
People stopped dancing, their eyes on her.
She stepped out of the spotlight and into the darkness.
Of all the beings in this universe, why did she have to choose the one that would leave?
After drying herself off and putting on pajamas, she sat on the floor at the base of the bed and began putting laundry away. After folding each piece she placed it back in the luggage.
Here wardrobe wasn't much more than skimpy work clothes and a few basics. Life was simple when everything she owned could fit inside a suitcase. Besides clothing and a few small necessities, the only other thing she kept was a small wooden box tucked away in the corner.
It was nearly two a.m. by the time she finished. She was about to get up but stopped when her eyes landed on the box again. She hadn't so much as touched it since she moved into the old motel room—since she started her job.
The box was small but heavy in her hands. There was a place for a key, but she never locked it. The hinges squeaked as she opened the lid and slowly reached for the newspaper clipping inside.
Eli stared back at her, smiling.
22-year-old found dead in his apartment. Was written above it.
The face of a boy she never met, yet had seen a hundred times before. The face of a boy who was killed by a Decepticon just so he could get to her.
Putting the folded newspaper clipping aside, she pulled out a dried rose that once lived in Jetfire's garden. She brushed away the loose petals and pulled the small tab, lifting the false bottom.
There it was. Its glow was just faint enough to cast blue light against the wood. Even just looking at it hurt.
A part of her wanted to take it and throw it as far away as she could. Into an ocean or a desert or a dense forest never to be seen again.
And yet…
The other part of her wanted nothing more than to hold it close.
She picked it up by the cord until the spark shard dangled in front of her face. It seemed to grow brighter. The Energon in her body tingled as it flowed up her arm that held the necklace.
"You left me, and now you want to be close?"
She almost put it back. Almost.
But it was the other part of her that won. She put the spark shard down into her open palm. Almost immediately, it glowed vibrantly against her skin.
Perhaps it fed the Energon in her body, or the Energon was feeding the spark as it began to burn, but not painfully so.
Even after all this time.
There was something else though. A different feeling. Like something trying to draw her attention from far away.
A beacon. A call for help—It compelled her to go to it.
As she got up, she held the spark shard close. Whatever energy it was giving her…it was allowing her to sense something she couldn't before.
Now back at the door, she put on her riding jacket and pants over her pajamas and threw her bag on her back.
The spring air nipped at her cheeks from beneath her helmet but compared to Verginia, Arizona's spring nights felt like summer.
She got on her old dual sport motorcycle, pulling out of her parking spot illuminated by the motel's neon sign.
She stayed on the main roads for the first ten minutes, but the strange feeling pulled her towards the desert. She veered off the pavement and onto the sand. Her headlight was the only source of light for miles. Only the faint glow of Phoenix outshone the stars.
The signal grew stronger and stronger as she rode out into the Sonoran Desert. Then finally, past the tree-like saguaro cactuses, a ghost town came into view. Her tires found a gravel road.
Dilapidated brick buildings lined a single street. Some nothing more than a pile of rubble, others still miraculously standing. She rode slowly along the wide street. Whatever she felt was here somewhere.
Pulling off to the side, she got off the bike and walked along the buildings. Past a few more houses were the remains of a general store. She kept going until her feet stopped in front of the largest building in the ghost town.
A church.
Other than the roof caving in towards the back, the brick building looked relatively intact. The doors were barricaded off with a large board across them. Walking around the building, all the lower windows were boarded up too, while the upper ones were shattered.
When she made it back to the front, she brought her hands up to the board. Upon closer inspection, it was wedged between the doors and brackets, like someone had used a hammer to lock it in place.
She adjusted her body and began to lift up on the wood plank. It gave little by little as she pushed up on it as hard as she could. The spark around her neck fueled her strength until finally, the board fell to the ground with a thud.
She took off her backpack and pulled out the lightweight metal rod from inside.
The door creaked as she pulled it open. Inside was a small entryway with even larger doors closing it off from the atrium. To the left was a partially opened coat closet, empty inside.
It wasn't until her hands met the larger doors that she hesitated.
Whatever was beyond them—would it attack her?
Was the silent plea that called her here a trap?
Or had it been here the whole time, and she'd been oblivious to it?
She pushed the large door open.
There, beyond the pews, under the broken stained-glass window where the alter once stood—
Was Starscream.