Work Text:
Title: Regrets
Continuity: IDW
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst, Drama
Characters and/or pairings: Sunstreaker, Hunter and Bob
~*~
Things were far too quiet for his taste. It reminded him of solitude and death, something he'd rather not think about, especially given that he'd seen and experienced far too much of it over his lifetime. And there was still more to suffer through since they were all headed back to Cybertron. Back to face Galvatron. And he had yet to have his leg fully repaired.
Sunstreaker shifted on his berth, grunting softly, unable to move the heavy weight pinning his legs. Bob sprawled lazily over them, emanating a soft rattling buzz as he snored. He sighed, as he listened to the sounds of quietly cycling vents coming from Sideswipe's bunk across from his.
At least they're able to recharge, the golden frontliner thought sourly, shuttering his optics and trying to power down, but his mind refused. His thoughts kept circling back to something he had been trying to forget for the past several years.
Hunter.
Learning of the human's death had hurt far more than he'd ever expected. A fact he'd never admit willingly, not even to Sideswipe. The memory of their last moments together haunted him, he regretted his behaviour, the way he'd treated the human, even if he hated Hunter's species as a whole. Hunter was... the only one who was there when all else seemed lost. He should have tried harder, but it was far too late for that now.
He squirmed under Bob's bulk, trying to get comfortable before he was finally able to roll onto his side. He needed to recharge if he was going to be worth anything in the coming battles- though in his condition, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd be worth anything even if he were fully rested.
~*~
“So I guess this is goodbye huh?” Hunter asked, his hands jammed into his pockets, stabbing the toe of his right sneaker into the floor tile.
“Guess so,” Sunstreaker replied, his tone bland, arms folded and helm turned to the side. He stared hard at the wall, avoiding visual contact with the human as much as possible.
Hunter shuffled his feet, looking down at the floor, biting his lip. “I just wanted to tell you that I-”
“Whatever it is, I don't want to hear it.” Sunstreaker grumbled softly, the words barely spoken above a whisper. “You can go back, and we'll just pretend none of this ever happened.”
“But I-”
“No.”
Hunter squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. He knew this would be difficult, having been part of Sunstreaker, even if it was only for a short time; he knew how stubborn and uncompromising the mech could be. He'd been in direct contact with Sunstreaker's mind, seen his thoughts, shared his fear, his anger, the thrill of battle, and stumbled over other, more private memories that had left him feeling awkward and confused. He couldn't just let the mech walk out of his life so easily.
He couldn't explain it, but thanks to the Machination, he'd been bonded to Sunstreaker in some profound way he couldn't quite understand. Sunstreaker was a part of him, even if Ratchet had successfully separated their bodies and minds, there was still some intangible fragment of themselves the medic had missed. There was no way Ratchet could have known of course, what was done to Sunstreaker and himself was something that had never happened before so the medic couldn't be sure of the long term affects.
Hunter lifted his head, squaring his shoulders, and stared up at the golden giant standing a short distance away. “No. I'm saying it anyway,” he growled in determination. “Whatever happened to us... I'm glad we were able to do it together, because if it were anyone else, neither of us would probably be standing here now. So. Tha-”
“Stop,” Sunstreaker slashed his hand through the air, “You helped me, I helped you. Now that we're both wholly ourselves, we can go our own ways and continue our own lives. None of this happened!”
He turned his back on Hunter then, his fingers digging into the plating on his arms, small tremors rattling through his frame. “I don't want anything else from you. I just want you gone.”
~*~
He couldn't see well, dim lighting casting vague, threatening shadows around the room he occupied. Ahead of him, not far from where he was standing, was a dark shape, hung from the ceiling and lit from overhead. The room was filled with various mechanical equipment, the clicks and beeps sounding surprisingly loud in the otherwise silent room.
He moved forward, drawn towards the hunched shape across from him. Tension filled his frame and a quiet terror began to pool in his tanks. The tubing and wires hanging around the limp figure seemed all to horribly familiar and he tried to resist, tried to turn and flee, but he couldn't, he could only move forward.
“Look what you've done,” a raspy voice called. A pair of dead eyes peered out of a gaunt face as the figure lifted its head to stare at him.
“No... it wasn't me!” He felt sick, his tanks roiling as he stared into Hunter's face, unable to look away.
“Don't lie, this is what you wanted all along, isn't it? Admit it! You traded my life for your own freedom, and look where its gotten us!”
~*~
Sunstreaker's optic shutters snapped open and he pushed himself upright with a gasp, glancing around with wide, pale optics. He was still in his quarters, Sideswipe sprawled out on the opposite berth, completely dead to the world. Bob on the other hand, had crawled from Sunstreaker's legs and curled his bulk beside the golden mech, his face pressed against the Lamborghini's side.
Sunstreaker shifted, scrubbing at his face as he tried to shake off the memories of his dream, a cold chill making him shiver. Bob lifted his head, focusing both pairs of golden optics on Sunstreaker, and purred as the mech reached up to stroke his helm, affectionately tweaking one of the bug's antennae. “Didn't mean to wake ya, buddy, go back to sleep,” he murmured tiredly, optics dimming. He should do the same.
Bob chuffed, and his heavy head thunked against Sunstreaker's chest, thick claws clinging to him as the mech tried to get comfortable again.
“It's okay, Bob, I'm fine,” Sunstreaker protested, trying to shove the bulky Insecticon off, but Bob refused to be budged. Eventually Sunstreaker gave up and just slumped back against the berth, letting Bob sprawl over his midsection and nuzzle at him. “Stupid bug,” he muttered, reaching up to tweak the Insecticon's antennae again, shuttering his optics.
He wondered if he’d ever stop regretting his last words to Hunter, if the ache would ever go away. Bob snorted, then began to snore in that rattling buzz of his again, and Sunstreaker wondered if he ever should stop regretting those words, if he deserved the ache to go away.