May 8, 2018
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(Previous)(Next)
-And so it starts-
(Next)
This strange place is very dark.
Very, very dark, and so very, very large. Large like the Ark home even, and bigger than the other Earth places made by the human friends.
But it seems broken. The colors are broken. The buildings are broken. The lights are broken... Even the sky doesn’t look like it knows how to be a sky. It’s just a dark, clouded void. Only a few pitiful pin pricks of starlight break through the nothing as far as he can see.
Also there is a sleeping giant in the distance. Bob can see his silhouette even from here in this strange room he found himself in. The sleeping one reminds him of the Metroplex friend he has been told about. A person even bigger than the Supreme-of-Omegas.
Maybe that napping goliath knows Metroplex. Maybe he’ll ask later if he gets that far.
But....actually...
Bob decides he’s going to sit where he is for a little while.
For one, the small friend Quanta seems to need a moment. His little face is still being mashed into Bob’s arm in an attempt to hide. His tail is still bursting flares of distressed light.
Also the large, odd crystal next to Bob is one of the only other sources of light. There’s a comfort in that even if it does look a little weird. Like there are colors (some of the few to be found in all this grey) twisting in it.
He wonders if it’s on the ‘Do not Eat’ list.
He’ll have to check it. But at the moment the list is in the Pocket-Pocket the Jack-of-Wheels had given him: A portable subspace pocket, neatly tucked into a little pack he could wear around his hips until they figured out how to tether a real subspace pocket directly to his frame. Like how the other Ark Friends had their’s.
‘You’re tech’s a bit different, buddy, but we’ll figure it out.’ Said the Jack of Wheels.
So until then. He had a subspace pocket built inside a pocket.
Bob appreciated the present. It made carrying things around much easier. It could fit so many things. So many of the snacks! Even if it caused the Caretaker to make a face at it when he showed him it for the first time....Huh, it had also made secondary caretaker break down into hysterical, gasping laughter as he wheezed out, “HE MADE YOU A FANNY PACK?!?!? Sunny, are your aesthetic sensibilities okay with this?”
Bob remembes that he had watched them in confusion, and chittered in delight over their antics as the caretaker grunted and pushed his brother.
Bob liked the present. And the Caretaker appreciated its....function though maybe not the appearance. And The secondary caretaker had even stitched his name onto the mesh once he was done with the laughing.
Cheery, bold purple letters:
‘BOB’
....He wonders where they are. They were probably worried. Calling hadn’t worked.
But that was ok! They were probably looking for him.
So he’ll look through the pocket-pocket later to see what he has. The Glowing friend needed the comfort pets right now.
Bob will sit for a while.
The caretaker had taught him that it’s not always good to wander if you’re lost. It makes it more difficult for others to find you.
Sunny..? What's going on..?
...
.......
Bob is gone.
It had been about five days,
and they had exhausted almost all avenues. The search had yielded nothing. No clues. No signs of Bob or Quanta. Not even a flake of paint was to be found. Still they were stubborn creatures not prone to giving up even when things were bleak.
If they had been they would’ve died a long time ago.
But no. They worked tirelessly, canvassing everyone they knew. They searched every nook and cranny, checked the Ark in triplicate, scoured the universe, the multiverse for some sign of them. Nothing.
Still. They knew that Bob was insanely durable. Even if he had found himself in a less than scrupulous area his immense strength, and nigh indestructible frame would do him well until he could be located. Such things had spared him from harm in the past.
Hope was kept.
Even by Sideswipe how strange it was to say it like that, he was usually the reservoir of bling optimism and hope.
...Even by Sideswipe who had been plagued by thoughts of dust.
Ever the optimist he was after all. What sort of twin would he be to waiver when his brother needed him? When his cat and Bob needed him?
Sideswipe held onto that blind hope that they had just wandered off.
Until now.
They had tried deploying Sky Spy. They had consulted Teletraan, who once enough data was collected, could triangulate objects in the vast reaches between Earth and even Cybertron.
However,
almost immediately after the search request was keyed in, in massive stark glyphs-
‘SIGNATURE MATCH NOT FOUND’
flashed up on the screen.
Sideswipe stood quietly off to the side, anxiously looking between the monitor and his brother. To guage the reaction of his golden twin as he started up at the words. Processed them.
But their wasn’t grief to be found there. No rage. Not even exhaustion which was odd because minutes ago Sunstreaker had been showing signs of wear.
His features were eerily blank, and Sunstreaker went very, very still.
It was like something had snapped in him in that moment, imploding inward, wiping out the helpless fatigue and frustration that had gotten in its hooks in him over the last several days.
Oh, he certainly hadn’t been expressing his concern or his fears with helpless tears, or a crippling anxiety. He had been in constant motion, tirelessly in action to do something to resolve this issue from the moment he realized that the Insecticon was gone.
But it had weighed on him. He had barely given himself reprieve to recharge beyond what was strictly necessary to avoid being a liability to himself. Yes, he had been off. Irritable. Snappish. His steely facade hadn’t been so steely, and there had been cracks in the veneer of what was almost at times a callous control. Still he remained somehow balanced between a maelstrom of emotions and a practice competence.
But now?
It was like all of that was gone, and all that remained was a cold, focused beauty.
If you didn’t know better like Sideswipe did, the expression that had consumed his brother from his face to his body language, almost appeared to be an indifference.
But that was something Sunstreaker wore like armor, and it made Sideswipe think back to how his brother had been on Cybertron. Back when his brother wouldn’t share the tender sides of himself with anyone but Sideswipe, and only when they were alone, because those softer childlike sides to him, that tenderness, was exploitable. He hadn’t been willing to risk that for both their sakes, even if it meant essentially killing the things he felt for the sake of control.
But Sunstreaker had begun to open up more on Earth, hadn’t he? To Optimus. To Bluestreak. To Ratchet. To their crew in varying degrees. Outright hostility and mistrust had dulled to something that was more fond overall. Despite the fact that a majority of the mechs they lived with being various flavors of irritating to the golden mech.
It wasn’t hard to see that Sunstreaker’s guard had been let down slowly. Little by little over the years he had started to let people in. Started to get more comfortable letting other facets of his personality shine through beyond the rage he had grappled with almost his entire life. Beyond the suspicion and the defensiveness.
Almost none had managed so wholly and quickly as Bob. Becoming important to Sunstreaker was not an easy feat. The Insecticon had managed it in less than five years.
Somehow, after Bob had magically showed up one day, he had evolved from an odd nuisance that Sunstreaker reluctantly found himself dealing with, to something his twin felt compelled to care for. To love. Someone who needed to be protected, and taught, and given a chance at a life that Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had been denied from the moment they had been sparked.
Sunstreaker was painfully young himself. He and Sideswipe both were. Children in their own right, and yet at some point Sunstreaker had made the conscientious decision that he would be Bob’s caretaker. That he would play that role despite having no idea what he was doing. That he would be responsible for Bob’s happiness, and wellbeing. His mental health and his growth into a good person.
This despite him being a young soldier. Despite never having been given any such guidance himself when he was a new life. Despite having his story shaped by war, and death, and destruction. Despite the rage, and hurt that festered in him.
He would again play protector for someone but in a different capacity. He’d shield Bob from not just weapons, and attack like he did for the Autobots, but wholly and completely from all aspects of the conflict.
Bob would not be for fighting, to hell with his strength.
Sunny would keep Bob safe. Keep him untouched by the war when so few were such a blank slate.
Bob who with his bright innocence, and sweet personality, and his odd brand helplessness born of naiveté... had won Sunstreaker over so completely in a way that Sideswipe had never seen before.
Regardless the reason, or due to a collection of them, Bob had been let in wholly and completely.
Sunstreaker loved him like a creator would love their child.
And now he was gone.
‘NO SIGNAL DETECTED.’
No comm.
No vital readings.
No GPS.
Nothing.
It was like he didn’t exist.
....
If Sideswipe tried using the same resources to find Quanta, it would probably be the same wouldn’t it?
Sideswipe felt his mouth go dry, and swallowed thickly as watched his brother close himself off. A self preservation tactic of his to hide emotional suffering, he knew. Sunny would shunt it aside so he could carry forward. He was masking the pain that love could inflict, because pain was exploitable after all.
This was reinforcing all of those things Sunstreaker had believed and unlearned.
Love was pain at times.
And pained Sideswipe watched his brother silently implode inward behind a guise of blank faced detachment.
Sideswipe decides-
-that he’s not gonna be a sad, useless lump anymore.
It’s almost like a switch is flipped in his head.
It’s not exactly that he can actively turn off what he’s feeling, and decide not to be sad, but he’s been in a depressed fugue state for a while now. Which is not something he can sustain for very long. It’s exhausting to be so melancholy, and to feel like you’ve ground to a standstill. To feel trapped and suffocated by an inability to move forward, and honestly?
He’s getting antsy.
One of Sideswipe’s greatest fears has always been being stuck in any sense of the term, and for days he’s been stuck. Because of his own stupid actions and the repercussions.
He’s needs to break out of this alien cycle of inaction.
Also Sideswipe has always been driven by an odd need for there to be balance. Especially when he messes up. If he messes up he needs to try to fix it, even if he’s not successful. But you can’t fix things if you’re stuck staring at the ceiling for hours counting tiles. What good is that gonna do anyone?
It helps that the guilt and the misery has dulled some. It’s not gone, but he can process it easier now. It’s become something useable. Something to motivate himself. Because you know what? After talking to people? After thinking about things, and after turning over what was said to him in his head once things were less raw?
He had given up too quickly. They both probably had.
And what sort of nonsense was that: Them both accepting defeat and the worst case scenario at the first sign that Bob was lost. Everyone else was right. It wasn’t a for sure thing was it? Yeah, perhaps that conclusion made sense given some of the evidence, but who was to say things were so final? That he hadn’t misread the situation?
He decides, even if it's against better judgement, to hang on to the small glimmer of hope that Bob isn’t gone.
Maybe he's just lost.
So Sideswipe decides that he needs to handle this situation better. He needs to learn from it. It’s a moment of trial and horrendous error but it can be a lesson. Just like so many other instances in his past
What good is it just wasting his time feeling sorry for himself? What good is that gonna do? For his brother? For their buggy? For his cat?
You know what? Screw inaction. Screw accepting that Bob is dead! What did that even mean anymore in this wild universe? He had never been one to accept insurmountable odds, or bleak situations before so why start now?
So you know what?
Fuck it.
He’s gonna get back to the grind, and he’s gonna try to find Bob again.
He’s gonna get his slagging cat back.
......after he figures out where to start.
He knew he had lost some things after drawing the cards-
-but more had gone missing than Sideswipe had initially thought. It wasn’t just the jetpack, but a myriad of objects they had collected over the last five year. The only disernable difference between what was still in their possession and what wasn’t was how those objects had been obtained.
That was the only unifying factor. The only common thread that Sideswipe could determine even with as distracted as he was given their so far failed search for Bob. And Quanta though that was more of a solo operation for Sideswipe. His brother wasn’t in the right frame of mind to search for kitties with Bob missing after all.
It had been days since they realized they were gone, and slowly mild concern had turned to fear.
But in Sideswipe’s case not just for the missing insecticon, and his poor cat, but for his twin.
Sunstreaker kept himself together well under stress but Sideswipe knew better. Could read his brother like a well-loved book. Sunstreaker’s nerves were completely shot. He hadn’t been sleeping. He was agitated and frayed. Snappish in a way that was reminiscent of their time pre-Earth. This was well and truly weighing on him in a way that nothing had ever managed to before. This situation was unique. There was no precedent. No built in knowledge on how to deal with the loss of someone who was essentially, however you wanted to look at it, a five year old child.
...But all the while Sideswipe had been thinking... Mulling a piece of information that he had, that his brother was not yet privy to.
It didn’t take a genius to see a pattern eventually, and one was starting to form before him as he searched. As he started noticing everything else that was suddenly absent.
He thought back to the destroyed treats he had made Bob, left untouched.... The one he had accidentally stepped on- crushing it to powder.
His mind drifted to that card again. Talons. With it’s imagery of disintegration.
...If....
...if the card got rid of everything they had acquired through magic...as was looking to be the case...
...Did that apply to everything? And not just the gifts. Every spell. Every effect...
What if it wasn’t just objects that were gone?
What if it wasn’t just the trinkets, and the oddities? The soft things and the treats. The blankets, and the art supplies, and the games....
It had been more than a day. Not even a couple, Bob had been missing for a few days. Even with the help of the other Autobots they were coming up empty. They had scoured the Ark, the lands around their ship. They had called him- on comms, by screaming his name out into the desert until their vocoders were hoarse, but nothing. And there hadn’t been any high handed threats from the Decepticons, lording his capture over them. It was like he was just gone.
Vanished.
No trace of him.
Primus.
What if he was gone.
‘How did you end up with Bob? With Quanta again after you lost him during the war?’
Well.
Magic, right?
Sideswipe felt himself go cold.
primuswhyme:
The calm broke.
“Oh Sideswipe.” He breathed, arms winding around his lover, drawing him in against his cockpit and tucking him close even as he scooped him up. His field opened, pressing and offering something stable for Sideswipe to cling to.
Thundercracker turned, making quick work of getting back to his quarters and into privacy.
Sideswipe wordlessly wrapped his arms around Thundercracker’s neck and held on tight as he was carried.
It was nice to have a reassuring thing to anchor himself to after all. Even if he didn’t have much of a right to a pity party.
When they were back in Thundercracker’s room, the door sliding shut noisily behind them (they really needed to get that dent repaired), he didn’t let go. If anything, maybe out of worry that he was going to be set down after reaching their destination, he clung closer. Out of a selfish desire to wanting to hang on to the comfort of being held for a little while longer.