Chapter Text
The Battle of Witwicky concluded with an Autobot “win”.
It wasn’t long after that when Breakdown parted ways with the other Decepticons.
There wasn’t much he could do, yeah? Being stuck in the huge, giant green forcefield around the huge-er, giant-er Terran that spawned from the ground and started terrorizing them all. A titan, he’s never seen one in person before.
Breakdown didn’t intend to stay away for too long– he didn’t have anywhere to go, and he was sure Bumblebee wouldn’t be too jazzed to chat. Did he ever get free? Breakdown didn’t know, but if he was going to check, he’d have to be alone… which was what he was planning on being.
Anyway, Breakdown found his way into the titan (apparently the nose was an exit?) and… well, stared. It was dark and silent. Not how he expected the inside of a titan to be. Well, this one was dead, so who knew? It wasn’t like her spark would continue to light. Where was Starscream? Wasn’t he controlling this thing?
Whatever.
Careful in his steps, he walked cautiously forward into the darkness, with the only light coming from the dimmed glass of the (he supposed) optics, the moon still hung high in the sky. It was unnerving, like he shouldn’t be here, but he persisted anyway: He needed to, he just felt something drawing him further and further–
“Oh, slag!” Breakdown tripped over something and fell, his servos extending out to try and catch himself, but missed. His helm slammed face-first into the metallic floor with a grunt. “Frag…”
He pushed himself to his knee-struts and rubbed his forehelm with the palm of his servo, turning around to perhaps catch a glimpse of what made him fall– “What…”
What.
Breakdown immediately flashed his optics, making them brighten significantly as he stared down at the hook, connected to…
“Aftermath?”
Breakdown didn’t even think as he scrambled, crawling on his knees and servos as he got closer to the large Terran. This was where he was? Why was he here?
“Hey, bud, get up.” Breakdown knelt beside the younger and began to lightly tap against Aftermath’s helm, trying to get him to wake up. It didn’t click immediately what this meant– well, it did, because years of war would do it for you, but…
He ignored the dulled coloring, the gray optics, the fearful expression.
It couldn’t be– he didn’t want it to be. Not his kid.
“Kid, come on, this isn’t funny.” Breakdown’s voice raised louder and louder, words spilling from his lips– Get up! Come on! Don’t do this!
Breakdown’s servos gripped Aftermath's broad shoulders, trying to shake the heavy Terran, his optics blurring with liquid he didn’t want to acknowledge.
“Get up! Get up! The– The Maltos are still outside! You like smashing them, right?!” Breakdown’s servos shook, his words falling flat as he tried and tried again.
“Want to kick some Autobot butts? They think they won– show them who’s boss!”
Silence.
“If you get up, I’ll do all your chores! Yeah, chores! Those are so boring! You don’t want to do that, do you?! I’ll even let you kick me! I won’t tell you off for biting?!”
Breakdown’s audials picked up no sound from the bot.
“Kid– please , I’m begging. Don’t leave me.”
There was no spark signal.
“Son–” Breakdown choked down tears as he felt himself tremble, “You’ve just started …You’re…”
Dead.
His helm clanked as he lowered it to Aftermath’s chassis, washer fluid pouring from his optics, pooling against the grayed frame, as he whispered, “... Aftermath.” Breakdown’s servo lowered to his son’s helm, gently raising it so Aftermath could look up, “I’m so fraggin’ sorry I dragged you into this mess. I’m so, so, so sorry I left you with Starscream. I should’ve been a better dad for you, I should’ve— I’m so sorry–”
In the corner of his optic, he could spot the smaller, grayed body of Spitfire. She looked so scared; it made him sick for one of the first times in his life cycle.
He didn’t hesitate to reach over and pull the femme over by her pedes, picking her up with one servo, once she was close enough, to sit against Breakdown’s frame. She was cold, small, and sparkless too.
These poor kids.
“... I should’ve been here for you. Both of you.”
He outlived his son, who was killed to fuel a plan that failed miserably.
Breakdown outlived two sparklings.
He tucked Spitfire’s husk closer against his chassis as if letting the femme hear his spark beat. He kept Aftermath’s helm facing upward.
He didn’t know how long he would be here, or if anyone would come to find him, but one thing was for certain–
“I’m not leaving you two. Not this time.”