Work Text:
Cybertron seemed so far away.
Just a dark speck in the sky that not even magnification would reveal. Even the telescope at the observatory wasn’t strong enough.
Boulder knew the general direction Cybertron would be in from here, but it didn’t help that the Earth rotated on a axis. He’d had to plot a chart, and explain that chart to the rest of the team.
They all missed Cybertron, after all. Sometimes, he’d catch them looking up at the night sky in bittersweet longing, or searching the expanse of stars for anything familiar.
But Cybertron was dead.
Cybertron was gone.
At some point, during their millions of years of stasis, civil war had torn apart their planet. Their home had been destroyed by their own people.
Except… Their people were dead and gone. They’d been in stasis so long, the war would have been born from when the very youngest of sparklings they knew had grown to full frames. Those sparklings would have been the ones most involved in war.
But the war had gone on for so long, how many of those that started it, that were the catalyst for war still remained?
Sentinel Prime didn’t.
The Autobot high council didn’t.
Many, many civilians didn’t - too many to count.
And only one Rescue Bot team did.
Boulder often wondered if the stars in the clearest night sky, shimmering and flickering, matched anywhere near the sheer number of sparks lost. Poetically, he hoped the stars were really their sparks hung in the sky, for everyone to see.
“Boulder?” Pede steps come from behind him, and Boulder eases himself up into a sitting position instead of lying flat on the roof.
“Hey, Blades. What brings you up here?” It was rare that Blades would come up on the roof without a mission. His fear of heights seemed to have worsened when he wasn’t flying. Even now, he nervously looked towards the edge of the building.
Boulder waits patiently as Blades shuffles over to him, fumbling his servos together before he sits down next to his friend.
“First Aid would have gotten his medical license this day all that time ago. We- We agreed we’d all meet outside the clinic he trained at for celebration on the anniversaries. No matter where we were in the universe…” His optics stay fixed on the stars above, his expression a confliction of grief, longing, loss, and hope. As if his gestalt were still out there somewhere.
(They weren’t. Boulder remembers the spark-wrenching cries from when Blades had finally realised why he couldn’t feel them in his spark anymore.)
“Mind if I join you?” Blades looks to him with a flicker of surprise in his field, but it melts into a small smile.
“Sure. Streetwise was always bringing his team along, and Hot Spot had a new friend he wanted us to meet every vorn! Last time we met, Groove even introduced us to someone we knew he was interested in.”
“Aww, that’s sweet.”
“Mhm! I- I sometimes wonder if they ended up together… Before- Before they…” His vocaliser clogs up, and his plating shakes. Boulder scoots a little closer, leaning against Blades in comfort. After a moment, Blades leans back.
“We might never know what happened whilst we were in stasis.”
“I know they’re dead.” It’s harsh. It’s bitter. It’s almost like Blades is snapping at himself, like he’s blaming himself, like he’s trying to convince that stubborn part of him that doesn’t want to accept it.
And Boulder knows how it feels. Somewhere in his spark, there’s a longing that his family made it. His creators, his co-creations, his extended family… It’s not likely. But he wants it so badly that he hopes. Hope doesn’t reverse the truth.
“My family are gone too. All my friends from Cybertron.. Everyone I agreed to meet again, everyone I forgot to say goodbye too… Everyone I promised I would be alright. I wish I’d made them promise the same.”
“Boulder…” Orange and white arms wrap around him tightly, squeezing him a hug that’s as desperate as it is wonderful. Boulder shutters his optics, before letting out a soft laugh, tainted with sadness, and pats Blades on the back.
“Hey, it’s okay, I’m okay.”
“But you’re not! You’re hurting, Boulder.”
“... You’re right. But I can hold onto this tiny ember of hope until it’s proved wrong.” There’s a moment of silence between them, both of them looking up at the stars, before Blades sighs quietly.
“Sometimes I think I’m lucky. Maybe it’s worse not knowing.”
“No, no… I think they’re just as bad as each other.” Silent in contemplation, they stay there. At some point, Blades draws out of the hug, but they’re still pressed close together against the cold.
“I hope you are planning on getting some recharge before tomorrow’s duties.” Boulder and Blades both jump at Chase’s interruption, sharing a giggle before they wriggle apart to make room for him between them.
Chase offers them a smile, and in his servos, a blanket. He brings it over and settles between them, spreading the blanket out so it covers all three of their laps.
“Are we engaged in a meteor shower tonight?” Boulder chuckles. That’s the usual reason he’d be up here, but not tonight.
“No. Memories.”
“Ah.” Concern radiates in his field, but Bouder pushes back with warmth. Sorrowful, but warm all the same. The memories of what Cybertron used to be hurt, because they would never be there again, but the people and moments in the memories were so joyous. Poignant, mixed emotion swirled together in a confusing mess, nostalgia mixed with loss.
Chase spares Blades another glance. He knows very well how his Amica lets everything build up to breaking point. They’re both guilty of it.
Considering how Blades feels distant, refusing to tear his gaze from the stars, Chase figures one of those relapses was coming along soon. He sends a ping to Heatwave, just in case. It would take all three of them to calm him down.
“Anyone you think about a lot, Chase?” The question catches him off guard and he shutters his optics frantically for an astrosecond.
“Who, me?”
“Yes, you~. Unless there’s another Chase around here?” Venting a huff of amusement at Boulder’s gentle humour, Chase looks to the night sky for a moment, optics catching on a satellite and following its slow curve until he can muster words.
“My mentor. They taught me everything I know about laws, rights, and the ability to balance means with motive. They had a newspark too. Prowl, I believe his name was.” His faceplates twitch downwards into a frown, despite trying to keep neutral.
“I was also the first they told when they were carrying again. They wanted me to chose a name before they told the Sire.”
“Oh? What did you pick?” The memories wash over Chase like a spring breeze, and he can’t help but smile.
“Smokescreen. We left before the sparklet had begun building a protoform though. I do not know if any of my mentor’s family made it, let alone them.” He glaces sideways at Boulder, who listens intently, and then at Blades, who appears to have one audio on the conversation.
“Their dream was to have three creations. I hope with all my spark that they achieved their dream before the war broke out.” A harsh, inwards vent.
Ah, it’s happening. Blades curls inwards on himself sharply, and Chase is immediately there to rub his back, hold one of his servos tightly to ground him. He talks so quietly that Boulder can’t hear him, but from the soft clicking noises and low whistles, he can make out that it’s sparklingcant - one of the most basic but also most soothing languages.
“Need me to go and get Heatwave?” Chase shakes his helm, and Boulder figures the firetruck must be on his way. Instead, he slowly moves round to Blades’ other side, holding his spare servo firmly and running his thumb digit over it.
Within moments, Heatwave appears on the roof. He quickly locates them and jogs over. A rare, disorderly panic flitters about in his field.
“What happened?” Boulder doesn’t know how to answer that. How can he put all the overwhelming feelings of loss into an answer? The swinging back and forth between happy memories and crushing grief? Broken promises, empty plans, and survivor’s guilt? The fact that everyone they knew, everyone they loved was dead, and gone, and not coming back and-
“War happened.” Chase mumbles it bitterly. His optics are narrow, a flash of anger darkening them to amber.
“War happened, and it left us behind.” Heatwave dips his helm low for a moment, before he moves in. Chase releases Blades from the hug, but keeps hold of his servo. Boulder steps away, picking up the blanket as Heatwave scoops Blades up and carries him to the edge of the roof, where his ladder is waiting.
Blanket hanging limply in his servo, Boulder castes one last look at the night sky before he follows them.
One last look at a sky where stars shine in place, bright and alive for everyone to see.
One last look at a sky where Cybertron doesn’t.