Chapter Text
Arcee stands in the hallway right outside Windblade’s room. She’s waiting as patiently as she can, tapping her foot while bots hurry past her just a little faster than they hurry through the rest of the hallway, and this isn’t how she planned her day.
Her plan was to do what she always did when she wanted to talk to someone other than Optimus: find them wherever they were, get high up, and make herself known.
It was especially useful with bots like Starscream, who took her much more seriously with the knowledge that he hadn’t noticed her approach.
With Windblade… she tried to do the same.
It quickly became awkward when Windblade informed her - without turning around to face her - that she was reapplying her face paint and no one was supposed to see her without it.
Arcee had quietly left the room through the door and that had left her here and now. Standing in a hallway, waiting for Windblade.
Finally, the door opens and she hears Windblade, “come in, Arcee.”
She walks into the room and waits for the doors to close behind her.
Then she looks at Windblade. She can see why the paint needs to be reapplied, it’s brighter now than the previous times she’s met Windblade. It’s less faded now.
“Sorry for the wait. The paint still needs to dry, but we can talk.”
“Why not use something more permanent if no one’s supposed to see you without it anyways?”
Windblade smiles, apparently happy to talk about the subject, “showing our devotion to Caminus isn’t something we can do just once and then never think about it again. Reapplying the face paint is a reminder. It’s a choice a cityspeaker makes over and over again.”
“Sounds like a hassle,” Arcee blurts out. Then she realizes too late that it might be rude.
Thankfully, Windblade’s smile doesn’t falter as she responds, “it is, yes. That’s why it matters.”
Arcee doesn’t know what to do with that, and doesn’t respond.
“What did you want to talk about?”
Right. She had a plan before this.
“You call them combiners now, but we had a different name for them, before. Gestalts.”
Windblade’s smile does fall now, turning to a more serious expression. “There have been combiners before?”
“ Gestalts ,” Arcee spits out. She takes a breath and tries to keep her voice more level. “If you want me to accept these combiners, you have to accept that the Gestalt was different .”
Windblade nods. “What made the Gestalt different?”
Too much. Far too much. She doesn’t know how to talk about the bot that made them without spilling out everything that happened. All of it is at the forefront of her mind now. For better or worse, she knows Windblade’s response would be kind in a way she can’t imagine from any other bot.
She doesn’t know if she can handle that.
So she doesn’t mention the scientist. Not by name.
“Monstructor was its name. An experiment, and not a willing one. The bots were fused together, impossible to take apart. It was a monster, and its creator wanted more.” She looks at Windblade, trying to see if she understands. “Its creator wanted to do that to everyone .”
Windblade is silent for a few seconds. “I see. And that was your only experience with com-” she stops herself and corrects, “bots being given a shared form.”
“Yes.”
“What happened to Monstructor?”
Arcee shrugs. “Probably more than I know about. I know the decepticons learned from it to make Devastator, who used to be even worse than he is now. I know it helped Shockwave when he tried to destroy the universe. It’s a monster, and wherever it is now I hope I never have to find out.”
“Well…” Windblade crosses her arms, “I can see why you don’t like combiners, but why did you tell me this?”
It’s just a warning. That’s the only reason.
“You should know what you’re dealing with. Combiners are dangerous.”
Windblade raises an eyebrow. “Caminus was attacked by combiners three times in a single week, everyone knows they’re dangerous. The reason you came all the way here is something else, Arcee.”
Damn.
“You don’t know me.”
Windblade lets out a breath and lets her arms fall to her sides, wings tilting down with them, “I guess not, but I’d like to.”
What is she doing here? She came here, she told herself it was to warn Windblade. But she already knew Windblade didn’t need a warning.
And maybe she also already knows why she’s here.
She remembers the time right before she left for Earth. Prowl asked her what she thought of Windblade, then told her that Windblade was nothing like Arcee.
So why bother talking to her, right?
She was only the first female bot Arcee met in hundreds of years, and only the second in the millions of years since Solus died. And Prowl - everyone really, everyone kept commenting on it - made her feel weird about wanting to talk to Windblade.
Besides, why would Windblade care? She clearly didn’t need to talk to anyone about any of this.
But here she is, in the present, and Windblade wants to know Arcee.
Maybe it’s time for a conversation that’s long overdue.
“Hm.” But maybe it can wait. “I guess you’ll have to find me next time I’m on Cybertron.”
Windblade smiles and lets go of whatever questions she still has for Arcee.
“I can do that.”