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First time I’ve written something Transformers and I succeed in depressing myself with unnecessarily cruel IDW Smokescreen.

I really need to break away from depressing fic and not try to write in the IDW-verse. This is random, unedited, and written in less than an hour. But it's writing and it's a start. This is kind of sort of a sequel to Smokescreen Leaves the Lost Light.


Smokescreen sat in the corner of the commissary doing his best impression of the shadows. It had become quite the skill, especially given that this wasn't supposed to be his job. He was supposed to be a flamboyant peacock, a distraction when the Autobots needed it most. He was supposed to be hiding among the troops, so very obvious that no one ever noticed what he was actually doing. Of course, the Lost Light no longer needed a diversionary tactician - not with Rodimus' oh so direct combat style. And The Lost Light also didn't need another shrink. Not that Smokescreen had anyone to report to now. Everyone who had problems reported back to Rung and he reported to ... someone. Probably Megatron. That made the most sense.

Smokescreen allowed his gaze to drift over to Megatron, sitting in a far corner, surrounded by former Autobots and Decepticons alike, all his previous sins forgotten now that he wore Bumblebee's brand. It seemed that the crew of the Lost Light were all about forgiveness now. Megatron, Cyclonus, Ravage, Deadlock ... no, he called himself Drift now. All had been forgiven their past deeds and had been accepted with open arms.

Speaking of Drift, here he came, practically attached to Ratchet's side. The two of them were rarely apart these days, they'd even gotten matching paint schemes. Even though it wasn't official, it was more than clear that they were Conjux Endura. It was something Smokescreen and Ratchet had never been able to be.

Smokescreen watched as they sat together, talking, laughing, drinking. They really were the perfect couple, complimenting each others' personality and balancing each others faults. And the fact that their story was just so very perfect .... yes, saving an addict from himself was so much better as an origin story than having your partner bought for you as a graduation present.

Smokescreen shook his head and finished his fuel quickly. There was no point in staying here. He was just going to wallow in self pity and that wouldn't help anyone - in fact, it would probably just result in him spending another year in his room or trying to leave the Lost Light again. He probably should have left the last time he tried, but Megatron had actually succeeded in making a compelling argument and he had stayed. He probably shouldn't have, because he was no happier now than he had been before, but perhaps it was better than being alone. And that's what he would have been had he left. After all, there weren't many places in the universe who would be willing to take in a Cybertronian. Not when all Cybertronians carried the kind of baggage that they did.

Smokescreen was about to get up and leave the room or get another drink - he wasn't sure which yet - when a shadow moved across his table. A shadow that he had not created.

"Smokey?" Ratchet asked in a low voice. "Can we talk for a bit?"

"Uhm, yeah. Sure, Ratch," Smokescreen replied, cursing himself for the hesitance in his voice. He motioned to an empty chair feeling incredibly awkward and wishing that he had left the bar earlier.

Ratchet seemed just as uncomfortable as he sat down, and it was then that Smokescreen noticed Drift's encouraging smile. Ah. So that was what was happening here. Drift, the new Conjux Endura was amusing himself by playing peacemaker when none was requested.

"Ratch, we don't need to talk. Really," Smokescreen said as he moved to stand. "This is all about Drift deciding to fix something that isn't broken. There's nothing to fix here. Nothing is broken. After all, you and Drift are clearly happy together."

"Yeah, but you're not," Ratchet replied . He reached out to take Smokescreen's hand, only to have the Praxian pull back.

"Don't Ratchet. Just don't. We're over. We ended amicably enough and we both knew where everything was going to end. So don't let Drift talk you into patching things up when they don't need to be."

"This isn't Drift, Smokey. It's-" Ratchet cut himself off with a shake of his head. "Megatron told me about what happened. About how you were planning on leaving before he talked you out of it. And I realized that I haven't been - That none of us have been particularly kind to you ever since this whole things started and I-"

"Ratchet, stop it. Okay? Just stop it. That's done. It's over. It's finished, okay? And you and I? We aren't friends. We're exes. Nothing more than that. You and Drift are perfect together. He’s a patient you got to save and who saved you in return. I’m just a whore someone once bought you. Let's not try to pretend that there's more going on than that, okay?"

With that Smokescreen stood up and left the bar, nodding to Drift as he did. What he had said had been cruel, but it had been needed. This kind of weakness had never looked good on Ratchet.

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