Disclaimer: I own nothing but this fic.

A/N: This is what happens after I rewatch G1, fall into obsession with Shrapnel and remember Waspinator's little episode in Dark Designs. Hey, someone had to do it, right?

He Lives In You

Sometimes, Waspinator hears a voice in the back of his head. A voice Waspinator does not know, a voice he remembers. The voice speaks when Waspinator is semi-conscious in the CR chamber, or when he is in recharge. Then Waspinator sees things flashing in front of his optics, familiar faces of mechs he has never known in his life. He sees dreams, surreal memories from another lifetime ago. When he returns to complete consciousness, Waspinator often does not feel quite like himself – he feels dizzy and out of place, like he should be somewhere else. Someone else.

You can't suppress me forever, forever.

Waspinator is not trying to suppress anything, especially not the voice. He likes the voice. It makes him feel whole in a strange way, like a piece of himself is falling into place and filling the gaping void his broken systems can never repair.

I am not a glitch, glitch.

Oh, no. The voice could never be a glitch. There are more than enough recognizable system errors in Waspinator for him to know one when he stumbles upon one, and the voice is not something that is wrong with him. The voice is about the only thing that seems to make Waspinator make sense to himself most of the time.

You aren't crazy. Just confused, confused.

He did not need the voice to tell him that, he already knows that very well. A lot of things confuse him, but Waspinator is most baffled when the voice starts speaking to him because he knows that voice. Which is impossible, really. Waspinator knows no one with a voice that sounds like that. He wonders why it is so familiar but can never string enough thought together to figure it out.

You can't force yourself to remember me, remember me.

But Waspinator wants to remember this thing he has never known before. He wants to know everything the voice is keeping from him. He wants to know who those mechs in his dreams are. He wants to know what it is he is missing, what it is he should be remembering.

It will come to you. Be patient. I'm not going anywhere, anywhere.

The voice sounds so sure of him, it makes Waspinator light-headed. He is not used to praise of any sort and the confidence the voice has in him brings back memories. Memories of those dream-mechs and the leader they followed without question. The voice... No, not the voice. Yes... Perhaps...

You're thinking too much, too much.

"You alright?" Terrorsaur asks and puts a hand on his partner's shoulder. "You look tired."

Waspinator buzzes and shakes his head. "N-no. Waspinator is not tired."

Terrorsaur cocks a brow at him and waits.

Waspinator's wings droop and his optics dim as he looks to the ground, caving under the pressure of his friend's gaze. "Waspinator hears a voice," he admits quietly, putting a hand to his head, metallic claws scraping against the Predacon insignia on his cranium.

He won't understand. He can't, he can't.

And it's alright if Terrorsaur does not understand, because Waspinator does not understand, either. He has merely learned to accept the voice in the back of his head as a part of himself.

Now you're on the right track, track.

"It tells Waspinator things, and shows Waspinator things in recharge." He confides to Terrorsaur, even if the other male has said nothing in response just yet.

"Maybe you have a few screws loose," Terrorsaur offers the only comfort he can, shrugging as they exit the Darkside and take to the air to begin their scouting.

Waspinator shakes his head. "No screws loose." He bangs his fist against his head to prove his point.

Terrorsaur chuckles quietly. "Then maybe you're finally loosing it. War can do all sorts of crazy slag to your head, so I hear."

"Waspinator is not crazy!" The bug-bot says quickly in his defense.

"Then what are you, if you're not crazy? Hearing voices isn't exactly sane, even by Predacon standards."

A quiet buzz. "Waspinator does not know what Waspinator is."

You're me, you're me.

"Does Dactyl-bot ever think he is someone else?"

The question catches Terrorsaur off guard and he comes to a halt in the air. "No," he says truthfully. He knows who he is and where he came from, even if he would like to deny his past some of the time. "Why, do you?" There is a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth and Waspinator's optics dim again.

"Sometimes."

There you go, you go.

"Waspinator thinks he is the voice."

Almost there, there.

"Waspinator tries to remember but he can't." He buzzes in aggravation and his mech fluid is starting to boil. "He can't remember who he is."

Terrorsaur chuckles again. "You're Waspinator, end of story."

Waspinator is who you are now, but not who you were, were.

"No," Waspinator protests quietly. "Not end of story. Waspinator was not always Waspinator."

Terrorsaur rolls his optics. "Enlighten me."

"Waspinator does not know," he whines, exasperated.

"Then forget about it. It's probably not important, anyway."

And the voice vanishes from the back of Waspinator's mind for a nano-click.

"But it is. It's very important, important."

-End