Chapter Text
The ground rumbled as the two bots tumbled following a heated exchange of punches.
Bulkhead and Breakdown had been going at it the entire afternoon under the hot sun. The outskirts of the Nevada terrain hid them from view. The red mountains surrounding them were full of dents, the ground cracked and fresh with debris from today’s sparring session. Their plating was drenched in condensation, fans engulfed in dirt and dust, and legs beginning to shake in exhaustion. A particularly heavy punch causes Breakdown to fall backward, hammer striking one of many dents into the eroding walls they approached during the duration of the fight.
He wiped at his mouth, giving a low growl at the green bot. "Pretty pathetic punch. You getting tired already?" Breakdown taunted. Besides him Bulkhead circled the blue bot.
"Me? Hah! You know I love a good fight!" grinned the Autobot as he waited for his opponent to get up.
The two rivals had long ago fallen into a routine on earth ever since Breakdown's arrival. Even when there was no mission or battle going on between their respective teams, they'd meet up for rounds of sparring. Bulkhead would never admit it aloud but he missed this. It had been decades since he'd heard anything about the bot much less seen Breakdown. Old habits resurfaced, along with worn memories and sentiments did too.
Before he realized it, their 'get togethers' began to grow more friendly than hostile. They laughed and joked as if their rivalry from the early days had never been tarnished by anger and abandonment. If Bulkhead didn't stop these secret meetings soon, he feared his resurfacing emotions would get the best of him.
"Hey! What's the matter?" Breakdown had been trying to call on his attention, ready for the next new round. Bulkhead relaxed his tense faceplate he hadn't realized gotten that way. His optics were unfocused and distant. He’d begun to think about their former glory days again. The happier times.
"Just a bit bored. Y'know, cause your moves are putting me to sleep," he joked. Breakdown wasn't smiling in the slightest. The look on his face could almost be mistaken for concern.
"Oh no. I know that look. Thousands of years knowing your dented face and I definitely know that look. You going soft on me."
Breakdown transformed his hammer and approached Bulkhead to meet him face to face. His arms were crossed tightly over his chassis as he tried putting a stern demeanor.
"We talked about this,” he said quietly, “there's nothing to say other than we're through. You left. I found a new calling. Decepticons is my life. End of story," Breakdown avoided eye contact opting to look at the ground instead. "I hate to condense my life but you're making this difficult to ignore."
Their muddied and scratched frames betrayed the delicate conversation that was transpiring. Bulkhead inhaled sharply, trying to put his feelings into words. Matters of the spark are never as simple.
"Do you like this little arrangement we've got going on?" Bulkhead dared asked. Breakdown stared optic wide. "Is this. . . is us. . . something we both still enjoy?"
For emphasis Bulkhead waved a hand between the two of them, pointing out their sparks. Breakdown stared, his mouth twitching. He was having trouble restraining himself.
"Whatever I say doesn't matter," growled Breakdown. He turned away angrily, his back facing Bulkhead. "I won't apologize for anything I've done. We can't go back. Get that through that thick helm of yours."
"Breakdown, we obviously still enjoy each other’s company. We practically thrive in it. I keep remembering the old days. I missed y-"
"Not. Another. Word."
Bulkhead wished he could see Breakdown's face. The blue bot held at his helm as if he was experiencing pain. Or reliving it.
So Bulkhead did not speak. Instead he decided to reach out to the bot. It had been hundreds upon hundreds of years since he last placed a comforting hand on Breakdown. Not even when he rescued him from MECH. Instantly Breakdown cried out, hurt.
"We should have never joined those Wreckers! I didn't want to stay there," he huffed angrily, voice shaking. "Why didn't you leave with me?!"
There it was. The burst of emotion Breakdown had thought he’d buried deep down. He had ruined years of repressed thoughts and sentiment for this bot and all it took to undo him was a soft touch. Vulnerable and overwhelmed he stepped further away.
"This is hard! I wish it weren't but why can't I forget it all! I wish it were like it used to be, y'know?" Bulkhead can definitely hear the tears now. "Back when we were partners and just, everything was fine! Never had to restrain ourselves. All that we could want at our fingertips. Was it so bad that I wanted more?"
"You left. You left and I missed you," was all Bulkhead could say.
"You distanced yourself from me. Everything started falling apart. I couldn't stand it. I left? You were long gone before I deserted."
After Bulkhead let himself be consumed by the Wreckers fearing change, Breakdown had suddenly disappeared one day without a trace. Bulkhead had even blamed Wheeljack and the other members for covering something up. It wasn't until many years later that they ran into each other in the midst of battle no less. There, their pent up frustrations and agony had transformed into a fierce rivalry, unlike the one they had before. Neither party wanted to apologize for their mistake. It was ironic, as the first encounter they have after many years be the same way they had first met.
Breakdown clenched his fists. They were both definitely still sour over the whole ordeal. When two bots that held loyalty above all else, being betrayed by each other was the deepest cut their spark could ever receive.
Deny it all he wants, Breakdown yearned for the company of the bot. This taste of their old life had become too much to bare. This was the breaking point.
Bulkhead turned to look at the sun, now setting over the desert horizon. "I did not want to change things. I was afraid if they did then. . . maybe I wouldn't prove to be such a good spark mate outside of battle. Avoiding the reality of it all was my awful solution."
"Humph. The others were right about one thing. We only know how to talk with our fists.”
They had made progress. Of the good or bad kind, Bulkhead wasn't too sure. But his spark felt more awake that night than any he could remember in recent memory. After their outburst of emotion Breakdown concluded their sparring to be over for the day. Knockout couldn't cover for his disappearance much longer was his excuse.
We’ll continue next time, had reassured Breakdown as they parted ways. Bulkhead hoped he meant the talking.
As he lied in the dark and quiet room, he loaded memory after memory from their shared past. Some sad, some happy, some intimate. Optics a bit wet, he fell into stasis.
On the Nemisis, Breakdown had been out of it for the last couple weeks. He would stare at nothing in particular for extended periods of time, become easily distracted, or just remains silent. It was very unlike of him.
Knockout was getting tired of it.
He rolled in his seat across the medbay floor over to where Breakdown was sterilizing some equipment.
"Breakdown did you check the vehicons?"
"Yes."
"And their sparklings?"
"Mhm."
After a pause, hoping to hear him go on, nothing came out. Smiling, Knockout abruptly placed a hand on Breakdown’s face as if to check his temperature. His assistant stopped mid wipe to stare at him, confused.
"Well, you're not sick. You're so quiet Soundwave could talk circles around you. You love going on and on about those sparklings. What's going on with you?" the red bot looked at him curiously. There were only a couple things that could possibly distract him, but nothing came to mind that could render his assistant to be so absent minded.
"Just. . . going over some things," Breakdown replied weakly. He continued on with his work. Not satisfied Knockout opted to tease him.
Unaffected, he rolled on over to the other side of the table Breakdown worked on. The blue bot could tell Knockout was planning something.
"Oh? Up to no good?" Breakdown turned to him suddenly alarmed. "Well just make sure not to let it get too out of control."
Breakdown shook his head. "Much more complicated."
He didn't want to have to tell Knockout anything. Breakdown can practically manage to make sense of his troubles as it was. Pouring his worries on someone else would only make him feel more panicked. The red bot persisted. He decided to take a wild guess.
"Your arrangement with the Autobot. They giving you trouble?"
At that Breakdown gave a weak laugh. He dropped the equipment on the table just teeming with a hundred things he wanted to confess. "Trouble doesn't begin to cover half of it."
Knockout looked to him, searching for something in Breakdowns face. He stood up silently. The blue bot's optic followed after Knockout.
"Careful Breaky. Feelings can cut just as deep as any weapon."
Stunned, Breakdown looked to him questionably. "How could you tell?"
The doctor smirked. "Something definitely troubles you. I can tell by your dim optic and loud joints you haven't been sleeping well. You haven't been as active with your duties either. You've even neglected poor little Zamu."
"My past isn't as manageable as I thought. I'm afraid of doing something stupid soon."
"Seems to me your spark is miles ahead of your processor." He looked up to the ceiling and walls. Quietly Knockout put a single claw to his mouth. Breakdown looked up at the ceiling, and understood. They would have to continue their discussion at a better time. Soundwave and Starscream were prone to eavesdrop.
"Pass me those containers will you."
Relief settled in Breakdown's spark. He was glad to have Knockout willing to listen to his dilemma.
"Of course," answered Breakdown a little too happily. Nonetheless it made Knockout grin a little wider, happy to see he put that smile on his assistant's faceplate.
Back in his private quarters Breakdown busied himself with lying on his berth. The day's work being finished he opted for some extra sleep and turned down some vehicons invitations of training. He could go for some quiet time.
"Breakdown! Breakdown!"
Well almost quiet.
His tiny minicon ran in circles besides the bed. They were excited to have their master come in earlier to the room. Zamu hoped to play a bit with him.
"Hey. You've eaten today?" asked Breakdown as he sat up.
"Breakdown! Breakdown!" cried the tiny bot excitedly. It then tripped on its own little feet. The poor thing did not let that ruin their fun, flailing excitedly on its side. They were stuck. The blue bruiser just laughed at their antics. Sitting upright, he pushed the minicon back on their feet.
"Are we going out? I want to go out again! Zamu has behaved nicely!" they sung happily.
Breakdown pushed himself off the berth and went to a table. There he rummaged through a drawer for some energon treats he managed to stock up.
He picked up the minicon and brought him on the berth. The tiny thing leaned on one of Breakdown’s leg, at full attention.
Breaking a stick for himself, then one for Zamu, he shook his head. "Nah. No training today. Sorry, this ship must get so boring."
Zamu opened its tiny mouth as wide as it could before completely chomping down on Breakdown’s offering.
"But it's not boring! Gra is here! I like playing with Gra," confessed the minicon with a mouth full of food. Breakdown recalled seeing the tiny thing sneak out of Knockout’s room earlier in the day. The two minicons have always loved each other's company. He began to pet at the tiny bot's back hoping to soothe him into recharge soon.
"You're not tired? I'm sleepy."
"No, no. I miss outside. I want to fight with B.H.! Please can Zamu see them soon!"
At the mention of Bulkhead's minicon, Breakdown's hand tensed over Zamu. The minicon stopped eating, and he looked up to their master's pained expression.
"Oh. I don't understand. Bulkhead and master always like fighting. Why is master sad? You miss them too right?"
The blue bot's hand completely left the minicon now. Instead it cradled his helm at what felt like an incoming headache. The pained expression on the orange face caused Zamu to panic. It rushed on their tiny feet and jumped at his chassis, teary eyed.
"I'm sorry! Don't be sad! Zamu is mean!" cried the tiny bot. It attempted to reach his master's face for comfort. "I'm sorry!"
"Even you can understand what's going on better than me, don't you?" whispered Breakdown at the minicon. He tried regaining his composure and continued with a soft smile. "I don't know what to feel about anything lately."
"Don't be upset," whimpered Zamu as it climbed over Breakdown's attempting to get the bot to pet him again. It weakly pushed at his shaking hand. "Zamu is lonely."
Feeling awful, Breakdown curled the tiny bot in his arm as he lied back into the berth. He propped the minicon on his chassis, continuing to pet him again. They trembled under his touch, trying to stop its sobbing.
"Even with the others around, yeah, it feels lonely at times. I get yah."
"R-really?"
At this moment, Breakdown looked to his left. Despite the berth being quite large he had fallen into the habit of always leaving space for one more. He stared longingly at the empty pillows. Thoughts of being back with the Wreckers resurfaced again.
"Remember long ago when you always fought with B.H.? You two would chase each other all around the base. You loved crashing into Bulkhead. That was always so funny," smiled Breakdown as he vividly remembered the common sight. With his other arm he reached over and turned down the light. In his hold Zamu settled down more comfortably.
"Even during sleep you'd still run after each other in the room. You two just thrived on one another."
"B.H. makes Zamu happy," the minicon piped in. They began to purr as they slid in the gap between Breakdown’s neck and his shoulder, its favorite spot.
"I know," whispered Breakdown, his blurry optic closing.