Title: „Lasting Patchjob"
Status: Part 1 out of 5 (WIP)
Fandom: Transformers; Bayverse (with some G1 elements/charas)
Characters/Pairing: eventual Sideswipe/Prowl; Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Prowl, RatchetWord Count: 3056
Disclaimer: I would love to own Transformers, but that honor belongs to Hasbro and some others. But I own an action figure of TFA Prowl and Jazz. And one of Kup! Hah, take that!
Rating: PG-13/T
Beta: The great snare-chan! Thank you so much for your help with grammar and your overall amazing feedback! *hugs* All remaining mistakes are definitely my fault!
Summary: In that moment, all he could think was: "...you wanted to finish that painting..." He vanished into darkness and woke up to an orange ceiling...
Warning/AN: eventual slash (non-sticky), tragic/drama, action, friendship/romance, bits of humor. Please R& R ^v^ Constructive criticism, suggestions, comments, – all that is most welcome! Flames will feed my barbecue, what else?
Note: Next part will be up within a month, hopefully sooner and yes, I WILL complete this, even if it takes me longer, so no worries ^-^ (That goes for all my TF stuff, by the way).
Lasting PatchjobThe smell of burning energon, both acidic and sweetly sharp, clogged Sideswipe's intakes as he took cover behind a steelplast column. Laserfire flared over the smooth black surface, the resulting heat wave burning its way over his plating.
He could hear Sunny's muffled curses as his yellow paintjob began to darken. Cybertronians were fighting each other, extinguishing sparks and keening cries of pain all around them. And the Autobots' mission objective was going out in blue tinted flames, – and his bro was only worried for his looks... Sweet Primus, you just had to love the narcissistic slagger!
Sideswipe risked a quick glance around his cover and flashed Sunny a knowing grin, feeling his own rush of excitement echoed in his spark.
The comm. link burst to life with frantic shouts and bellowed orders:
"Unit 3, fall back –"
"Third line of defense breached. All troops, retreat to assembly point –"
"Shocktroopers! Holy Primus – they're breaking through at –"
Silence overrode the chaos of interfering transmissions, until Prowl spoke: "Sideswipe, Sunstreaker – there are Seekers incoming at D-4. Intercept and engage. Units 1 and 5 will provide backup."
Typical for Prime's SIC, he sounded as if he was sitting in a conference room back in Iacon, far away from the action. But the sound of launched rockets, carrying over after his orders, was proof enough that his weaponry wasn't for decoration only. Some Autobots had learned that the hard way, the poor glitchheads!
"Yes, Sir!" confirmed Sideswipe, signaling back to Ironhide, who led Unit 1. The old soldier immediately began to draw the Con's fire away from them.
"How can that fragger sound so calm?" Sunstreaker idly wondered aloud; returning a salve of lasershots. They needed to get rid of the Decepticons quickly or they would be pinned down.
"Don't know. But our pranks might have hardened him."
Saying that, Sideswipe used the distraction Unit 1 provided to dart forward. His energon blade split the shocktrooper's spiky helm neatly in half, while his other servo blocked the sweep of the laserblaster's barrel. The force of the impact rattled straight up into his shoulder joint, but the dying Con had had no chance for a shot and that was all that mattered.
Something yellow flashed along, shouting: "You just want his attention, admit it!"
Scowling, Sideswipe kicked the graying frame aside and followed Sunstreaker. Finding new cover behind some containers, they could both pick up the boom and whine of incoming Seekers. The sound was almost drowned out by the battle raging around them.
"Don't know what you're talking about."
"Right. So I not only got the looks, but the brains when we were sparked. Good to know." Sunny's smile grew feral, as he took the chance to pick off another Con with his rifle, content with having a little banter to go with the brawl.
"Sure, keep telling yourself that."
A steelplast column gave way under its burden, narrowly missing them. The energon refinery looked like a true battlefield by now. It was reduced to debris and puddles of molten steel, littered with graying frames of both faction's.
The Seekers drew closer, only sparkling dots in Cybertron's ever-lasting darkness. The concentrated fire seemed to lure them their way, ready to play a little round of Jet Judo. Sideswipe's whole frame was coiled and tingling with anticipation, ready to catapult him up and pluck those fliers out of the sky.
He never got the chance to make good of that plan.
A blinding light flared to life in front of Sideswipe, as if Cybertron's gravity had caught an alien sun. Everything was flooded with white, erasing all shadows and taking the surprised shouts with it. An astrosecond later, the explosion's force shorted out his audios, the shock wave pounding into his frame; it sent him flying.
Sideswipe was offline even before his slack body was knocked into an energon tank and lay crumbled in a shower of sparks.
XXX
:Megatron:
Sunny's thought jolted Sideswipe online again: a shiver of fear followed it along their bond to resonate within him, so raw that it sent his own systems into a frenzy.
He struggled against the bulky debris wedging him in to get back up on his pedes, numb to the pain every movement evoked. Finally standing, his stabilizers fired to keep him balanced. Despite this, he slipped in a deep puddle of unrefined energon, but pushed forward regardless; frame smeared with pink. Warnings flooded his HUD, but Sideswipe overrode them, intent on pinpointing Sunny's location. He searched for a glimpse of yellow between flames and gray.
Their link grew taut with fierce determination, before it went silent.
Stupid, stupid – if you tune me out I can't find you!
"Sunny!"
His only answer was pain.
Sideswipe staggered, as –
... circuitry sparks and fibers twitch feebly in the empty socket ...
... claws rip inside his frame ...
... "Pathetic!" a dark voice snarls ...
... yellow plating flies in a wide arc ...
... energon rivulets, its tang on his glossa, stream down ...
:It shimmers, blue and purple in the raging flames. It would look terrific on the canvas:
- he dropped to his knee plates, blindsided by the impact of ghost sensations, that burned through him, tearing at his spark.
For a klick, the pain was replaced by a frightening, accepting sadness of absolute finality and Sideswipe feels engulfed in fleeting warmth.
:Love ya, bro:
It's a death sentence.
XXX
Sideswipe stood and stared.
The area around him was plain, a circular space of nothing but metallic dust - the explosions epicenter.
He had no recollection of how he got here, save how he had plunged forward through a veil of blue flames, and followed the pull of pain, to end up here.
Sideswipe saw it clearly on the ground in front of him, but he couldn't process the visual feed his optics transmitted.
"Sunny..." he heard himself whisper, and wondered why.
The frame looked nothing like his twin. It was too small and crumbled to be him; too insignificant. Spotty traces of molten yellow ran down its length, too bright and cheerful amidst soot-black and dying gray.
Sunny's pedes were missing and only sparking circuitry in empty sockets were left. The spark chamber was laid bare, a dark hole torn open with energon dribbling slowly over a ragged edge. All he could see was the faint orange glow from a fusion cannon blast at point-blank range.
The pull vanished and Sideswipe did, too.
He blacked out, never hearing the shouts from the comm. link demanding his position and status. Sideswipe neither saw Ratchet speeding his way nor felt the medic's scans and touch.
No more than a glance was wasted on Sunstreaker – there was only one twin left to save.
XXX
STASIS LOCK ALPHA-ROUTINE IMMINENT
INITIATING SAFETY PROTOCOL OVERRIDE IN:
... 10 ...
... 09 ...
... 08 ...
There is nothing...
Why is there nothing?
There was no pull on his spark, just emptiness, which frightened him, although he couldn't remember why. But there should be pain, at least. He couldn't feel his frame, either.
... 07 ...
... 06 ...
... 05 ...
Sunny...
Then he felt it: the faintest flicker, off in the distance, at the other end of the darkness. Sideswipe chased after it, following along that familiar echo, the shadow of the bond he had always shared with Sunstreaker.
I won't let you leave!
... 04 ...
... 03 ...
Sideswipe vaguely recognized this place, somewhere in his most basic programming, but pushed the boundaries regardless. He didn't know whether he wanted to extinguish his own spark or to call Sunny's back – it didn't matter.
... 02 ...
It didn't – because he couldn't. Something invisible blocked his approach. The last thread unraveled as he was forced to stop, the last pulse of his twin's spark fading with a blinding flash of light.
... 01 ...
Sideswipe threw himself at the barrier with all his might, determined to shatter it – but here, he had no frame. Here, he was nothing but an intruder. He didn't even possess a vocalizer to scream...
Something pounded into him like an electrical charge to jumpstart his stalling system, pushing him back in the direction of fading light.
"Live, you fool!" a vicious voice snarled.
... 00 ...
Something snapped for good.
... you wanted to finish that painting...
EMERGENCY OVERRIDE: RATCHET
MEDICAL STASIS...
...
...
...
... INITIATED
XXX
Sideswipe knew that he rebooted later the same cycle because his chronometer blinked a too cheerful green in the center of his HUD.
The noise of medical monitors, rhythmic beeping and humming, and the sting of up-linked sensor-feed tubes, greeted him. His optics settled on a bright light overhead and the blank, orange ceiling.
The sight was familiar and spelled wrench-wielding trouble.
Ratchet's drawn faceplate came into view as expected, looming over his frame, which lay stretched out on a warm surface.
"W-what... hap-pened?" Sideswipe croaked out around his staticky vocalizer; trying to sit up.
A hand settled firmly on his shoulder plate.
"Don't move yet," the CMO ordered, his voice oddly soft.
Sideswipe stiffened in suspicion; alarm bells went off. He looked around, but the other medical berths on his right and left were empty. Sudden dread filled him.
"Where's Sunny?" He asked and reached through their bond simultaneously, - it wasn't there.
"Sideswipe, listen –"
Not here.
Sunny is –
"Sideswipe!"
XXX
Prowl deposited the medical files on Ratchet's pristinely kept workplace. Since he'd last to inspect the nearby barracks, it was perfectly logical to return them himself.
... of course, they had also served to provide a reason to see Sideswipe's condition for himself.
Ratchet's earlier evaluation, during the command staff meeting, had been... unsettling.
Even so, Prowl's duties must take priority over more personal matters, he had no time to stay and wait for Sideswipe to regain consciousness.
The newly formed Decepticon army under Megatron's leadership was even now advancing steadily, crushing whole city states on its path to lay siege on Iacon. The former Lord High Protector's betrayal had crippled Cybertron's government to a disconcerting degree. And worse, it had weakened Optimus' influence within the Council and army, slowing down their every countermeasure...
Prowl turned to leave, only glancing at Sideswipe's prone frame, as he passed the sole berth in the isolation ward; which lay adjacent to the main med-bay.
His sensor panels picked up the air displacement a mere astrosecond before a servo grabbed his arm to stop him. Prowl turned around, using the motion to cover his slight jerk.
All medical instruments had indicated that Sideswipe was in a state of deep-charge stasis when he had arrived. Nevertheless, he found dull azure optics meeting his gaze.
"Sideswipe," Prowl greeted. The thought to offer his condolences surfaced briefly, but he dismissed the notion. He doubted that the young soldier would take kindly to such formulaic words, regardless of their earnestness.
"Don't go."
The grip shifted lower and tightened. Gears whirred, the hold threatening to dent Prowl's white plating. The power lines to this wrist joint were pushed together, preventing a proper flow of energon and coolant.
Prowl's processor opened a memory file of its own volition, to cross-refer this situation with another, where Sideswipe had been nothing more than a half-starved youngling.
Sideswipe's digits clenched, leaving five round indentations: "Stay. Stay... please."
The last part sounded tiny, like a sparkling lost and, judging by Sideswipe's short lived grimace, the comparison was both apt and too close to the mark.
Prowl considered the request, ignoring the building pain. It was unexpectedly difficult to read Sideswipe, despite their constant interaction, which was mostly based on the younger's incessant pranks. As SIC, it was Prowl's duty to enforce the subsequent disciplinary measures.
But the constant string of encounters posed no advantage in their current interaction, which was brought on by Sunstreaker's deactivation; this create a predicament.
The vibrancy which had defined Sideswipe had vanished with his twin, leaving a dull almost-stranger behind who Prowl could only judge by his words.
"I fear I am unable to keep you company. My apologies, but I have duties to attend to which cannot wait."
The tight grip let go instantly and Sideswipe's helm sagged back down without a protest. In fact, his whole posture went blank, somehow highlighting his frames dull and marred silver; his optics dimmed to teal.
Streamlined for speed and enhanced for close quarter combat as Sideswipe was - he looked small.
Prowl was unfortunate enough to have witnessed such devastation before, so that he recognized the sight as one of a spark trapped and longing to follow its faded half.
Leaving him like that...
"I will have to work, but if you find that agreeable...?" Not waiting for an answer, which Prowl doubted would be forthcoming, he sat down in the chair provided for visitors.
XXX
Sideswipe waited until he could hear the quiet clatter of datapads pulled from subspace before he turned his helm to look.
Knowing that a Prowl processing data was one focused on his task with single minded attention, he let himself relax a bit. He had both loathed and feared the questions he himself had stupidly invited by asking the SIC to stay.
What was there to talk about anyway?
Sunny was gone. He had failed to follow him or call him back or – to do anything at all. He felt alone, empty and angry at the whole of Cybertron. How was talking supposed to help with that?
So Sideswipe just watched with powered down optics as Prowl worked, his white digits now and then scrolling through the content of his 'pad.
Why had he stopped him from leaving?
Prowl wasn't Sunny or a friend or... anything. He was just another Cybertronian, a familiar frame with its hum of smoothly running systems.
... even the sound was not right; it was too even. It didn't fit and nothing ever would again.
That thought, as pathetic as it was, send a shiver through him, jolted his frame like electricity – the sensation akin to panic. Suddenly, he felt trapped –
Something brushed Sideswipe's wavering EM field - Prowl's. It expanded just a fraction, cautious of rejection, maybe. He was too shocked to react.
It felt... calm, registering only barely on his sensor-net, as it mingled with his own spiking flux of a disrupted field.
The touch was... alien. So structured, as if the complex, individual frequencies and wave-lengths had been artificially organized into a smooth pattern.
Its touch pretty much screamed 'Prowl' at Sideswipe – and, somehow, that didn't seem to be a bad thing right now.
XXX
Prowl remained carefully focused on the Intel report he was perusing, very aware of the stark spikes of distress biting into his EM field.
After a long moment of utter silence in the isolation ward, their sharp pressure subsided. Sideswipe, albeit reluctantly, had accepted the contact.
Initiating it had been a calculated risk – Prowl had been unable to determine another viable way to offer a small measure of comfort, he felt out of his depth.
For anything more than this, the time was not yet right.
Prowl had already predicted a dozen possible scenarios on how Sideswipe would react after he overcame the numbness of his shock. Prowl would have to wait for the right moment and act accordingly.
For now, it was enough to observe the still form on the berth drifting into deep recharge - which should have claimed Sideswipe earlier than this.
XXX
Sideswipe struggled with himself to suppress a warning growl as he said: "I'm fine. Just clear me for duty already!"
Ratchet scowled darkly – and ran another scan, this one sweeping through his frame like ice water. "'Fine' my aft! What the pit is Optimus thinking, ordering your release, just like that? And only two cycles after your –"
"Ratchet," interrupted a calm voice.
Both 'bots turned to see two Praxians standing in the med-bay's doorway.
"Prowl," greeted Sideswipe, carefully opening his clenched fist. "Smokescreen."
"Sideswipe." Prowl inclined his helm in acknowledgement, then handed a datapad over to his colleague. "Please inform Jazz that I will be there momentarily."
Judging the charged up atmosphere and drawing his own conclusions, Smokescreen nodded. "Of course."
The sound of retreating steps from the corridor vanished as the door swished shut behind the diversionary tactician.
Prowl turned to Ratchet, who still looked ready to throttle someone – preferably Sideswipe, who sat conveniently within reach of the CMO.
"Do you wish to voice your concerns in regard to Sideswipe's release from your care?"
"Where do you want me to start?" Ratchet asked sarcastically.
"Sideswipe's prowess in battle make him a valuable asset to our troops. In the current situation, we simply cannot afford for him to be on medical leave, not while he is fully functioning."
"See? Told you so," Sideswipe interjected, but couldn't muster his usual glee for getting the better of the Hatchet.
"Shut it, Sideswipe!" Ratchet dropped his scanner with a resounding clank on a tray and turned to Prowl, optics narrowed. "You condone this, do you?"
"As a matter of fact, I was the one to support Ironhide's request to reassign Sideswipe to Unit 1."
Ratchet's intakes hitched. "You what?"
Prowl seemed unfazed as two pairs of optics pierced into him, albeit only one was full of repressed anger – Sideswipe looked both grudgingly grateful and suspicious.
Grinding his denta together, Ratchet went to reorganize his used tools with more force than necessary. "Well, what are you two waiting for? Get the pit out of my med-bay, before I reformat you!"
Sideswipe dropped from his perch on the berth and went straight for the door, with Prowl following behind with more measured steps.
Some klicks passed in silence, before Sideswipe stopped in the middle of the empty corridor and asked: "Unit 1?"
Prowl caught up with him, already immersed into one of his ever present datapads. "Yes."
"Your unit."
"Ironhide's," corrected the tactician, with a distracted flick of his doorwings in lieu of a shrug.
"It's part of your command."
"Yes," Prowl looked up, studying Sideswipe's almost defensive-aggressive stance. "Do you wish to voice objections?"
Sideswipe was not even sure why he had bothered to bring it up. "No."
At the next fork, he turned left, while Prowl headed the other way.
tbc...
AN: R&R!
10