Archive of Our Own

“Goodbye… Mesothulas.”

Verity paused, caught somewhere between revulsion at the mangled organic/mechanic corpse in front of her and the weight of the grief in Springer’s voice as he kneeled before it. She waited for the darkness to be illuminated by the light of Springer’s optics, a sign that he’d pulled the shutters back open and was ready. When, after several minutes, it didn’t happen, she decided to break the silence on her own.

“Let’s get you patched up.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re covered in blood.”

“It’s… not mine.” His optics were still dimmed.

She suddenly understood the absence of the other Wrecker. “Impactor?”

She saw the shape of Springer’s head nod against the light cast by the enormous monitor behind him. “Yeah.”

Verity battled back the nausea. Springer wasn’t just covered in Impactor’s blood. He was drenched in it. What wasn’t heat-seared to his armor dripped off of every edge and crevice in long, congealed strands. His optics finally illuminated as he turned his hands over, looking at them, realizing what he must look like to her. “It was Pova all over again,” he said by way of explanation. “Only this time…” His voice hitched, unable to continue.

“This time Impactor was stuck and you had to shoot through him.”

He nodded again and his optics dimmed once more as he leaned his head down to join his knees on the ground, gripping the sides of his helm. A low keening noise rose from the back of his throat and Verity recognized it as the same sound Kup had made upon realizing what he had done at Tsiehshi. Just as Springer had consoled Kup then, Verity moved to console Springer now. Unable to throw an arm around him, she flattened the palms of her hands against his knee instead, spreading her fingers wide, pressing enough surface area against his armor so it would register in his mind. The vibration beneath her hands was hard, fast, and stumbling.

She was silent.

There were no words.

Verity tapped at the handset, poking through the Timemaze code as she listened to the sound of rocks being stacked on a lower level of the volcano’s cavern.

The sound of Springer burying Impactor and Tarantulas.

She paused her work, her mental image of what Springer was doing right now pushing through any concentration she had for Cybertronian code. He’d wanted to be alone for this particular task, the burials of his biological father and big brother. A daunting undertaking for sure, despite the ease with which he had outgrown them. Kup was the one he had put on a pedestal. Kup was the one he would never get over.

Maybe that was ok.

The speaker on the handset crackled to life as Springer transmitted from below. “Hey, Verity. It’s ready.”

Two heaps of rocks. Far enough apart to indicate two bodies. Far enough apart to indicate that the inhabitants of those bodies had not been fond of each other when they were alive.

Springer drew in a breath and let it out in a slow vent. “Here lies Impactor. He wrecked. He ruled. He wasn’t all bad.”

Verity looked up to catch the lift of Springer’s optic ridge. Well, if that’s how he was gonna’ be… “Here lies Tarantulas. He was mostly pretty bad. But he created Springer and fixed me, so… he wasn’t all bad either. But he was a total creeper.”

Springer let out a noise that was half-way between a sob and a laughing snort.

Verity allowed herself a laugh in response, wiping away the tears at the corners of her eyes. The moment passed and she cleared her throat. “Did you want to say anything for Kup?”

Springer was still for a moment, gaze distant, and then he drew his saber. He ran the tip in straight lines through the thick dust, and Verity finally realized he was sketching something on the ground.

An Autobot insignia.

He took a knee before it, hands folded over the hilt of his saber, and bowed his head. He paused for several moments, gathering his thoughts. When he finally spoke, his voice was low but oddly soft, absent of its usual rasp, the harder edges of its mechanical flange yielding to something that sounded younger, less damaged.

“Kup was the best of us. Everything that was good about us came from him. He kept us on the right side of history.”

Once again, Verity pressed a palm against his knee. “And for you?”

A small tremor shook through Springer’s frame, his head still bowed. “He saved me. Knowing what I know now… God… I could’ve been terrible. I was terrible, for a long time. He brought me back. Reminded me that I wasn’t just a tool. Made me want to be a better person.”

Springer took another long breath, held it, and let it out. “What happened to your father, Verity? Do you know?”

She was quiet for a long time, arms crossed over her chest, her expression hard in the gloom of the cavern. “I’ll put it this way. The person who created you… didn’t want to hurt you, at least… once he figured out who you were. The same can’t be said for the person who gave me half of my DNA. He’s gone… in the permanent sense… and I’m good with that. Uncle Magnus was the better Dad by far. Not exactly a barrel of laughs, but he gave me what I needed when I needed it.”

Springer hauled himself back to his feet and sheathed his saber. “Fair enough. Speaking of taskmasters, we need to get back to work. I’d rather not die the second I step through that gate because of a glitch.”

Verity shouldered her pack to follow him back to the upper level. “Oh, yeah, forgot to tell you. Tarantulas said you can’t die. Indestructible spark.”

Springer grunted. “Overselling himself to Overlord, probably. Even if I can’t die, I can still get hung up in a zero point for half a decade. I’m not sure that’s any better. Let’s dot all the I’s and cross all the T’s.”

He stood with his back turned to the gate, Verity standing in the shadow he cast in its brilliant light, holding a card out for him. He reached down and took it. The card was tiny in his hands, but he was well-practiced with two years of experience reading human-sized books and had no trouble opening and reading it.

Dear Springer,

It’s been a wild ride, hasn’t it?

You’re getting ready to leave as I write this, and I’ll admit, part of me is really pissed about it. The part of me that finally got used to having someone around who I could talk to. Someone I could actually connect with. Someone who saw me as something more than a thing to be protected. Someone who could both take care of me and be fun to hang with. You’re the best family I’ve ever had. The last two years have been the best of my life because of you, and I’m pissed that you’re leaving it.

I’m pissed that you’re leaving me.

But that’s the selfish part.

A different part of me… a part that, I think, you created, understands.

You’re the ultimate opposite of selfish. To borrow your turn of phrase… “I’ve done the reading.” Everything you’ve ever done, in one way or another, points to trying to make things right. Sometimes it wore you down and sometimes it didn’t go the way you’d hoped, but in the end, you always throw every ounce of yourself into whatever it takes to get it done. No matter how hard it’ll be or how much it’ll hurt. And I understand that this plan of yours to give up everything you and I have to go back and try to undo the war is just one more example of that selflessness. I understand that the price that you and I will pay for this is worth whatever happens if you succeed. I understand that asking you to do anything less would go against the very core of your being and everything I’ve come to admire about you.

All of this is to say, thank you for making me a better person. Thank you for being a good example. I’ve always been self-reliant, but thank you for teaching me how to be self-reliant without being selfish. Losing you is going to hurt like hell, but thanks to what you’ve given me, I’ll make it. Thanks to all of the things you have taught me, I’ll be able to move on, and maybe even have a normal life. Even if you won’t be here, I’ll always have your voice in my head to guide me along.

Good luck, Springer. Go make it all right.

Love,

Verity

Springer looked over the top of the card to Verity. When she saw the expression on his face, somewhere just short of busting out in tears, she reached her arms up. Recognizing the universal symbol for “pick me up and hug me, goddammit,” he reached down and swept her up, his hold gentle and secure at the same time. She clutched the edge of his armor as he held her close and they held each other, inasmuch as they could, for several moments. When his voice did break the silence, it was low and calm. “Check your handset after I leave.”

Verity,

I know this is hard. I know you’re tough enough to handle it.

I’ll admit, I wasn’t happy to see a human the first time I boarded Magnus’s ship and met you. I thought, at best, you’d just get in the way, or at worst, get yourself squished. I thought it would be just my luck that I would be the one to get you underfoot and… well… you proved me wrong, and I’m glad.

You saved me going up against Overlord. Twice. You earned your Wreckers stripes, for sure.

What’s more is you’ve helped me heal through some deep wounds. The last two years have been… surreal. Leaving the war, discovering I’m the creation of a mad scientist, losing Kup… you helped me through all of it in a way that no one else could, and I’ll always be grateful for that. Thank you.

The war brought us together. If I do manage to undo it, I’ll do my best to bring us together under better circumstances. I’ll do my best to find you again. I’ll do everything I can to make sure you don’t spend your entire life running away.

For now, go see your mom. It looks like things finally worked out for her. I think she’ll be relieved to have you back again.

Be happy. You’ve earned it.

-Springer