Work Text:
"You little traitor...."
No. No. No, no, no. Not that voice. Not that voice, never again!
"After all I did for you.....you betray me. How dare you."
No! No, no, no, no, no, no!
"And what for? For them? For him? The Autobot?........ You care for him, don't you?"
"You think he could ever love you? You, when you were created to destroy him?"
No. No, that wasn't her! She would never hurt them. She would never hurt him. She would never!
"You can't fight what you are, little sister. You can't fight it forever. And when your resistance wears thin....then you'll see what you are truly capable of."
NO! No she-she-she saw....a light. A...shape?
She was moving closer. A light color. Yellow. Yellow....no, no it couldn't be!
Energon, everywhere. Cables-wires-metal. Torn and disfigured.
No. NO.
Blue optics, lightly flickering. The weak pulse of a spark, nearly ripped out of his chest plates.
"Beautiful....isn't it?"
"No!"
She wakes with the scream, her vocalizer nearly raw with the sheer force of the terror spiking through her frame. The barn is still, her yell cutting the peace and quiet like the razor edge of a blade. That tiny little dog robot starts to bark and snarl, moving jerkily back and forth on its small wheels.
'I am calling 911!'
Some of Cade's other inventions jerk alive too, whirring and sparking. Some turn their fake eyes upon her, gazing with a cold curiosity. Her audio receptors register none of it.
It's all she can say, over and over. "No, no, no, no, no, no....."
She's shaking, giving herself dents with the way she's digging her digits into the grooves of the metal on her servos. Tears are leaking out of her optics, and she doesn't have the strength to stop them. All she can do is whimper and shake and cry and think of what she saw. Of what he showed her.
Of her future.
She curls herself into a ball, caring nothing for the dusty ground and wanting nothing more than to disappear forever. Or for the world to. Either one.
She lays there for what could either be a few seconds or a few hours, and maybe she might've slipped back into recharge, before she realizes she's not alone. Before she feels arms around her, and hears the dull thump of a spark close to her. Before she can sense him. She feels the pressure in her helm, and lets him in. A voice fills her entirety, feeling warm and safe and Bee.
'Again?'
It's all she can do to nod, moving closer to him and pressing her helm against his chest plates and shivering like a wet cat. He would protect her. He always protected her.
Silence, but she can still feel him, and it's enough.
'What happened this time?'
She can't tell him. She CAN'T.
'Sting. Tell me.'
Never.
'Please...'
She wouldn't.
He's quiet for another moment, then speaks again, and his voice is laced with concern.
'You shouldn't be out here by yourself.'
She shakes her head. The barn is quiet, and being alone is better than being out there with the others, the others who have taken to staring at her as if she was something particularly disgusting they'd found on the bottom of their pedes. And besides, Bee would come visit her at night. It wasn't all bad.
She was fine.
She's still shaking, her frame rattling gently, and he wraps his other arm around her, too. She snuggles up closer to him, until the thumping of his spark is indistinguishable from hers.
"Bee?" she whispers, her voice cracking slightly.
'Yeah?'
"Can you....can you tell me again?"
Quiet. She can hear his vents whirring as he took a deep breath.
'About what, Sting?'
"About them. The old Autobots....the ones from before."
'I just told you about that last night'
"Please? I....I'm scared."
.......'Okay.'
Impossibly, she curls up tighter against him, some of her fear banished by her anticipation. She likes all the stories Bee tells her of before, but these are her favorite, and she asks him for them almost every night that he comes to see her. Which......okay.....is a lot. But they're such good stories.
'How many tonight?' He sounds tired and a little sad, and she frowns. It isn't good when Bee is sad. She doesn't like it. She winds her digits around his, holding onto his servo tightly. It's the only thing she can think of.
She can't explain it, and probably never could, but she feels his feelings lift a little when she does that. She knows that she's made him happy, in that way that she knows things about him, and it makes the fear inside her fade a tiny bit more.
He smiles at her, and she musters up one of her own, lifting her mask.
When he speaks again, he sounds like himself.
'Which one do you want first? Or are tales of my incurable heroism enough?'
And it's good.