Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“What the frag IS that?!”

Slipstream stumbled back from the main door of the Ark and right into Sideswipe’s broad chest plate.

“What are you talking about,” grumbled Sunstreaker. The mech hated early morning patrol. It was boring. And too damn early.

The smaller mech waved his arms to encompass the white mist swirling in front of the giant spaceship, obscuring the landscape to where it wasn’t even visible a mile ahead. 

“Mech,” Sideswipe tried not to smirk. “That’s fog.”

“The frag is that!?”

The red frontliner rolled his optics. “Condensation in the air from changes in temperature. If you wanna better explanation ask Skyfire. Or Hound.”  With that, he folded down into his alt mode and rolled forward.

Slipstream stared after his tail lights. “....Does it hurt?”

“Nah. Just keep your headlights low, and your sensors active and you won’t hit anything. Now come on,” Sunstreaker nudged their young trainee forward. “Let’s go before Prowl doubles our route.” 

--Remind me to introduce him to Silent Hill .-- Sideswipe, somewhere ahead on the road, grinned over the bond.

--Don’t you fragging dare .--

Chapter Text

It had taken longer than Skyfire had wanted to negotiate his release from Autobot service. They had known from Day One that his spark was never in the fight, and now that he and Starscream had reconciled their differences, it was even less so. Stealing time away to Cybertron was not fair to those that were depending on him to perform, and the one time Starscream had tried to spend time with him on the Ark had been an utter disaster (though he had to give the Seeker credit for eventually rolling with the punches).

It had surprised him when Prowl of all mechs took up his case with Optimus, arguing the point that Skyfire would be a more effective liaison between themselves and the Seekers on Cybertron instead of one of the rank-and-file stationed on Earth. Try as they might, and no matter how diplomatic Thundercracker had become, old prejudices died hard and not many beyond Upper Command completely trusted the ex-lead trine still.

Skyfire readily agreed. He knew for a fact that Thundercracker had more than enough keeping him occupied to be able to drop everything when Prime’s mechs needed to talk, and Skyfire didn’t mind acting a buffer between old friends and new. Besides, this was something he could do (and do well) that would make him feel like he was contributing at home until he got his pedes under himself and could start actively contributing. 

With negotiations complete, and an official discharge from Optimus Prime with a warm congratulations and an open offer to return if he ever needed to, Skyfire left the Autobots and returned to Cybertron. 

It wasn’t taking long to get settled. He and Starscream had put whatever projects and tools belonged to him in the Seeker’s--now their joint--lab, and were currently unpacking his things. The shuttle watched the other mech move about their room and organize as he muttered to himself with a little smile. There was a time where he wouldn’t have dared to dream they could be like this again and he was overjoyed at how natural it still felt.

“You still have this?”

“Hm?” 

Skyfire crossed the room to get a better look as Starscream turned, a small storage cube in his hands. It glowed a soft red as the seeker activated it, and the holographic display activated.

Younger versions of themselves smiled back at them, each proudly holding their certificate of completion from the Academy. 

Starscream stared at the image silently for a moment before advancing the image. A beautiful alien landscape came up, Skyfire working in the distance. More files cycled through the memory of the cube, displaying images and snapshots of places they had been, and things they had done before that fateful planet fall, all those eons ago. Starscream only spoke again once the first image of them at graduation had come back up. 

“I can’t believe you still have this.”

Skyfire smiled. “You gave it to me. I always kept it in my subspace. I never would have left it for anything.” Honestly, it was one of the only things he still had from back then. Not even his diploma had survived his absence and millions of years of war. 

He watched the Seeker carefully deactivate the cube and put it on the shelf above the berth containing a few other photo cubes. 

The smile he gave Skyfire when he turned back around could have lit the sun.

Chapter Text

Jazz had to give it to the mechs of Deixar...they had a rocking club scene. The Sabotuer sat back in his booth in the corner (force of habit dictated he keep an optic on all exits) while Slipstream was at the bar getting them another cube and chatting with the bartender, a blue and gray mech he pointed out as Spring.

The Fireflash was unassuming from the outside, a gray building in the middle of a larger cluster of gray buildings. However, inside was brightly lit, colorful, loud, and served a mean energon blend. Spring was a talented mixologist, and the Twins could learn something from him. 

“So that’s yer new roommate, eh?”

Slipstream grinned as he reclaimed his seat, sliding a cube of swirly red and blue energon towards him. “Yeah. Spring and Joyride have been friends for a long time.”

Jazz smiled over the rim of his cube. The kid had been steadier since meeting the red femme, and even steadier since moving out of the police dorms and into the flat they shared. They were good influences on him, and he now had a safe place where he could separate work from the rest of his life. It’d done wonders for his attitude and mentality. “Didn’t ya say the other roomie worked here?”

Slipstream nodded and gestured towards the stage. “Sunspot’s up there. Her set’s almost over.”

The little yellow bike behind the DJ equipment was the one responsible for the damn good music rocking the joint then. She used a blend of Cybertronian beats and Earth music, and the tempo and volume kept changing in time with the downbeat. Prowl would have hated this chaotic change up (good thing he declined the invite to the bar and had decided to stay with Thundercracker to discuss plans to obtain some building materials for New Vos from Earth), but Jazz reveled in it.

The stage lights flared and flickered as the volume hit a final pitch that would be painful if held for long and Jazz was immediately reminded of his weaponized sound and lights display. This wasn’t a battle though, just a finale, and the sound faded as the lights dimmed, replaced by the cheers of the crowd as the slim femme swept her frame in a bow.

Jazz laughed. He liked these mechanisms already.

Chapter Text

Winter in the desert was quite unlike anything Slipstream had ever encountered in terms of weather. Earth was really different than Cybertron in that respect. The sheer dramatic change in temperature from day to night sometimes left his sensors reeling, and it was something the Twins said he would eventually get used to.

That didn’t mean he enjoyed guard duty outside the main blast doors of the Ark. It was getting cold, dammit.

“Gang way!”

“Watch out!”

Seem jumped out of the way of the door with a yelp as five jets came barreling by, four jumping into the air and blasting off with a boom of afterburners.

“You okay, Seem?” Silverbolt looked back from the departing pinpricks of thrusters at the guard his brothers almost ran over in their hurry to get airborne.

“I’ll live,” he made a show of dusting himself over before walking over to the taller mech and searching the skies. “What the hell was that all about?”

“Ah-...” Slverbolt rubbed the back of his helm, embarrassed. “Perceptor mentioned that conditions in the air were ripe for formation of ice crystals high up there. It’s kind of a crazy sensation to fly in, and something they don’t get to do often. If we’re lucky, we might even get some sundogs.”

“Sun-what?”

Silverbolt chuckled and checked his chrono. You’ll see in about two minutes when the sun sets.”

Sure enough, two other bright lights formed, seeming to ring the star as it sunk lower towards the horizon.

“Wow…”

“Yeah. The light reflects off of the ice crystals forming up there to cause refraction. That’s what I love about Earth. The tiniest change can bring about something amazing.” With a smile, the larger jet waved at the guard and strode forward, taking to the air to join his brothers.

Slipstream watched the sun set, finding a new appreciation for the weather.

Chapter Text

It was quiet again. The dull roar of explosions overhead the last few orns had brought such a surge of awful, spark-rending, hope that they would finally be rescued or given the chance to escape that Elita-1 almost broke along with her spark.

There was no time and place to break down. She couldn’t.

She was their leader. 

So she held Moonracer as the younger femme’s vents skipped in her recharge, and tried to ignore her own growing sense of despair. They were going to die in here.

It had been vorns since her team had last seen light that wasn’t artificial. How many Elita wasn’t sure anymore, but it had been several. Shockwave had lost interest in them once his own need for vengeance had worn off and it was evident that they wouldn’t be giving him anything of use to break the Autobot cause. Elita’s team had been too far removed from Prime’s mechs, and the other Autobots on Cybertron would have deserted the base once word of their capture reached them. Still, they were in this noxious little hole of a cell buried deep in Darkmount, and no one was coming. 

She wasn’t even sure if Shockwave knew if they were even alive himself. A pre-programmed drone showed up every couple of orns, deposited their meager rations, and left. It was entirely possible that Shockwave had just...forgotten they were even there. 

Moonracer shifted against her, but didn’t wake. She’d let that terrible hope get to her, and had been ruthlessly crushed when things went silent again. She needed to keep up her strength, because it wouldn’t come from the energon they were given. 

Elita leaned her helm back against the worn metal and dimmed her optics. She should really recharge too…

The keypad on the other side of the door beeped and then the locks to their door disengaged, and suddenly, Elita’s team was jolted by the light spilling in from the hallway. Moonracer startled awake and upright, and Elita growled at the tall, seeker-shape standing in the door.

“...Shit. Primus, he was right,” the Seeker breathed in amazement before lifting his comm. “Acid Storm was right. They’re alive and down here.” Pause. “No, I just got here. No-l ook , whatever. Just make sure Acid Storm’s finished raiding the lab and set up outside, okay?” Finishing his call, the seeker stepped inside the cell.

He was your typical build seeker, gold with blue highlights. The rest of the femmes backed up against the wall of the cell and away from the flier. Elita narrowed her optics and growled a warning to not come any closer. To her surprise, he obeyed, kneeling down in the center of the cell and started to pull emergency rations from his subspace.

“I’m sorry. I would have come sooner if I’d known you were down here.”  The seeker set cubes in front of each femme.

“What the frag is going on,” Chromia snarled.

“Chromia,” Elita started.

“No! Finally remember we were down here, Con? What was all that racket up there? And why all of a sudden the visit? Why the energon? You Cons should have just killed us when-”

“I’m not a Decepticon.”

Chromia almost threw her cube at him. “Could have fooled me with that purple on your wings! What, is Megatron so bored he has to send his idiot, flyboy pets to-”

The seeker flicked his wings. “Megatron does NOT own me. And I’m not a Decepticon.” He reached up to squeeze a portion of his upper arm and instantly, his form flickered out. What was a boxy seeker build was replaced by sleek curves and smooth wings. His colors changed to blue with silver and red highlights, and the twin faces of the Decepticon emblems were completely absent on his frame. 

“A hologram,” Elita breathed, and Primus, that awful hope returned. “You’re not a seeker.”

The stranger smiled. “I am. I haven’t been a Decepticon in a long time. This frame was the answer to Shockwave’s stranglehold over the energon supply.”

Firestar pointed at an emblem on his shoulder, above the small holo-emitter he wore. “You’re law enforcement?”

“I am. Small district on the other side of the planet called Deixar.”

Elita warily took her cube and watched him as he spoke. He was...familiar, but she couldn’t place him.

Chromia threw her hands up and grabbed for the emergency ration. If it was poison, it was poison. She was hungry. “So what are you doing here, flyboy?”

“I can explain, but we don’t have a lot of time.” He moved over to Firestar, pulling a thin metal wire from his subspace, and began to pick the locks on her wrists. “I apologize for not coming sooner. The seekers that were helping us didn’t even know you were here until combing through Shockwave’s mainframe. 

“Where is Shockwave?”

The flier paused and glanced over his wing to look Elita in the optic. “Rusting in the Pit.” Every femme in the room locked optics on him at that.

“The explosions we heard…”

He nodded and went back to picking the cuffs. “Elita-1, can everyone make it out under their own power once you fuel up?”

After various nods, “Yes. You know me?”

“Ah, not well,” he chuckled. “I think we were on the same battlefield a handful of times.” He moved to the next set of cuffs. “I know your image though. Your team has been listed by the Autobots as MIA for vorns, feared KIA.”

“How do you know that,” Elita stared at him. “Who are you?”

Another cuff dropped to the floor, useless. “My designation is-”

“ Thundercracker! ” THAT voice was familiar enough that every frame in the room stiffened.

The seeker sighed through all of his vents and shifted over to take Chromia’s cuffs in his servos. “We’re down here, Starscream, and the sound carriers perfectly well.”

The mech that poked his helm around the room didn’t look like Starscream for how much it sounded like him. The red and black mech glaring at his roomate was almost as jarring as the change to his real frame when he deactivated the emitter.

He took in the collective wide optics of the femmes with a small sneer before zeroing back in on the seeker in the room. 

“How much longer are you going to be? Everyone is out and the charges are set. Acid Storm is set up outside.” 

“And you couldn’t have told me this over a comm instead of coming down here and frightening everyone?”

A sharp smirk flitted over the smooth features. “Just checking to make sure you’re still in one piece.”

“Well, you could help since you’re, you know, here,”

“And deprive you of being the hero? I wouldn’t imagine it. I’ll go brief the others.” And like that, he was gone.

Everyone was silent for a moment, stunned. The seeker rolled his optics and moved over to pick Elita’s cuffs.

She willingly offered her wrists. “...Thundercracker, huh. I thought I recognized you.” 

“Yes.”

“...He hasn’t changed one bit.”

Thundercracker laughed. “No. No, he really hasn’t.”

“And after we get out of here?”

Thundercracker flicked his wings. “Acid Storm has been acting medic for the seekers out of need. He’s set up a triage tent to repair any damage your team has. I have basic first aid training that extends to ground-based frames, so I’ll be helping out there.”

“And the charges?”

Thundercracker smiled as her cuffs popped open and he looked her in the optics. “We have been in Darkmount’s shadow long enough. Bringing it to the ground will be Megatron’s final salute from his own Air Force.”