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wyntir_knightTitle: Survivor’s Guilt
Rating: T
Characters: Bluestreak, Smokescreen
Pairings: Bluestreak/Sideswipe/Sunstreaker, Bluestreak/Jazz (implied), Red Alert/Prowl (mentioned); Smokescreen/Ratchet (suspected)
Warnings: Survivor’s guilt, implied self-harm, drugs and alcohol,
---
“I need to go,” Bluestreak whispered as he slipped off the berth.
“Stay,” Sunstreaker murmured, only half online.
“You’re not on shift today,” Sideswipe said as he reached out to take hold of Bluestreak’s arm with a light grip.
“Yeah, I know.” Bluestreak smiled and gently disengaged the black hand. “But I have something I need to deal with today. And I should probably wash up.”
Sunstreaker muttered something that sounded like ‘fine’ before rolling over and falling back into recharge.
“You want some help?” Sideswipe asked with a leer. “Because I could always help you get all that gold out of your hinges.”
“Oh, I’m sure you could,” Bluestreak replied with a sly grin. “Just like I’m sure that we’d do a lot more than washing and I’d never get to my thing.”
He leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to Sideswipe’s lips and was immediately pulled back into something that was anything but.
“Okay, okay, enough,” Bluestreak said as he pulled away from Sideswipe. “I would love to stay, believe me, but I really need to go.”
Sideswipe’s look went from teasing and seductive to concerned.
“You shouldn't be alone, Blue. Not today,” he said, taking hold of Bluestreak’s hand and squeezing it gently. “I worry about you and I want to help you work through the memories of … well, everything.”
“Seriously, Sides, I’m fine. And I promise I’ll be back later. Once I’m sure I’m done,” Bluestreak said tenderly.
Bluestreak got off the bed and moved to the door.
“What is it that you need to do?” Sideswipe asked before Bluestreak could leave.
Bluestreak was silent for a moment, his hand on the door.
“I’m not the only one who lost Praxus,” he finally said before leaving the room.
---
It took Bluestreak almost an hour to find his target, finally tracking him down deep in the bow of the Ark. It was an area that had been all but destroyed when the ship crashed into Mount Saint Hilary millennia before the volcano ever held that name.
“Smokey?” Bluestreak called as he worked his way over a pile of rubble and through a half-opened door. “Are you back here?”
There was no reply, but Bluestreak did hear the faint sound of metal scraping over stone.
“Smokey? Come on, I know you’re in here,” Bluestreak continued. “I wanted to make sure that you’re okay.”
The room Bluestreak found himself in was the old Oil Bar - a sort of commissary and recreation room that had been intended for social gatherings and was to serve as a sort of casual observations lounge. It had never been put into use. It wasn’t as if a warship needed a rec room. It was surprising that this area of the Ark hadn’t been put back into use or at least scavenged for parts. It looked to Bluestreak as if all the old furnishings and equipment was still here and he found himself wondering if the lightboard games over in the far corner could be fixed up.
“I’m fine, Blue. Go back to the Twins. You shouldn’t be alone today,” Smokescreen said, pulling Bluestreak away from his rambling thoughts.
“And you should take your own advice,” Bluestreak replied as he rounded the bar and found Smokescreen sitting on the floor behind it.
Energon cubes, both full and empty were scattered around the older Praxian, and he was rolling a surprisingly undamaged bottle between his palms, contemplating it with dimmed optics. He should have been with Ratchet today if rumours of their relationship were to be believed, but the CMO had gone to Cybertron to help set up a new med centre for Elita’s crew. No one had been thinking of the anniversary when the mission had been set up.
“Blue, seriously, I’m fine,” Smokescreen murmured. “I would rather be alone with my thoughts and I won’t be good company for you today. You need someone to help distract you.”
Bluestreak carefully stepped over the cubes, the debris, and Smokescreen’s legs until he found a space where he could sit down comfortably. It put him in a position where he was between the wall and his fellow Praxain, well hidden behind the bar.
“I’ve been distracted enough, Smokey. And I can go back to them later if I need to. But right now, I think I need to be here.”
Smokescreen made a rude noise as he began working the seal on the bottle. “If you’re that gung-ho to be with a Praxian today, why don’t you go see if Prowl needs some distractions.”
Bluestreak shrugged. “Prowl has Red Alert. From what I can see they’re doing a fine job of dealing with their own issues in their own way. And Jazz and Inferno both promised to look in on them if they felt it was needed. Jazz probably meant exactly what he said, but I figure that Prowl and Red are going to get several interruptions from Inferno today. I’m not sure he trusts Prowl not to screw this up. I kind of figure that it’s not Inferno’s call to make, but the big guy is protective. Especially after the whole Negavator thing. I guess he thinks that he needs to make up for screwing up there. Not sure this is the best way, but who knows, right?”
As Bluestreak spoke, Smokescreen glared daggers at the bottle’s seal, as if willing it to open with the power of his mind.
“Blue, seriously, I’m fine!” Smokescreen snapped. His tone immediately softened. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. You and Prowl are the ones who lost Praxus. Not me. Now go back to the Twins or Jazz or Mirage or Hound or whoever, okay?”
Bluestreak’s look softened and he reached out to take the bottle from Smokescreen’s hands.
“You lost Praxus too, Smokescreen. You’re just as much a Praxian and Prowl and me.”
Smokescreen shook his head and reached for another undamaged bottle. “I know that, but I wasn’t as attached as the two of you were. I left Praxus a long time ago and never looked back.”
Bluestreak grabbed the bottle and slipped both it and the first one behind his back.
“Stop that! This engex is practically older than I am and there is no way that it’s still good!” Bluestreak snapped, ignoring Smokescreen’s glare. “And I’m not going to leave you here to kill yourself with energon poisoning while you lie to yourself! You’re hurting and you need someone!”
Smokescreen stood, his slight wobble and the flare of his doors exposing his overcharged state.
“I am really not in the mood to talk, Blue. And if that means I need to leave, then so be it.”
Bluestreak jumped up and grabbed at Smokescreen’s arm but had to let go when he was nearly hit with wide doors.
Cubes and bottles were kicked in all directions as the young gunner bolted after his fellow Praxian. He managed to grab Smokescreen’s arm just as he reached the door and pulled him back into the ruined Oil Bar.
“Smokescreen! Stop! I’m not going to let you keep doing this!”
Smokescreen came to a stop and glared down at the grey hand on his arm.
“You are not my keeper, Bluestreak,” he said in a low growl. “I don’t need your advice or help. All I need is to be left alone to mourn in my own way. Now go back to the Twins or Jazz or whoever’s berth you’re using to avoid dealing with your issues.”
Bluestreak’s optics narrowed and he tightened his grip on Smokescreen’s arm.
“Let me guess; I’m supposed to be so offended that I’m going to just let you go? That I’m going to go run back to the Twins and cry into their chestplates? Who knows? Maybe they’ll be so pissed off that you hurt me that they’ll come find you and beat you into scrap. That is what you want, isn’t it?”
For the briefest of moments Smokescreen seemed to wilt, his optics dimming and his doors falling on his back. In that moment, Bluestreak thought that he might have gotten through to Smokescreen. He was disabused of that notion in the next instant.
Smokescreen’s laugh rang out bitter and sharp in the empty room.
“Did you honestly think that-”
“Stop it!” Bluestreak snapped, his voice uncharacteristically hard. “Just stop trying to push everyone away, Smokescreen! Every year when the anniversary comes around, you disappear! You get overcharged and you overclock and you’re a mess for weeks afterwards!”
Bluestreak’s voice softened and he loosened his grip. With infinite tenderness he stepped forward and leaned in to press his chevron to Smokescreen’s.
“Smokey, you’re allowed to grieve. You taught me that we need to grieve in order to move on. We need to let it out. And you also taught me that it’s easier when someone’s there to grieve with.”
Smokescreen stayed like that for a long moment, cycling his venting slowly. For a long moment they stayed like that in a silent tableau. Finally Smokescreen pulled away and sighed. He took hold of Bluestreak’s arms and pushed him away gently.
“Bluestreak, it’s not that easy. It’s sweet that you think it is, but it’s not that easy. I am grieving. In my own way, I am, but I can’t do this with anyone else. We each need to grieve in our own way and I need to do this alone. I appreciate your concern, but I need to be alone, okay? You understand, right?”
Bluestreak looked at Smokescreen and then, with no warning, he hauled off and punched Smokescreen square in the nose. Smokescreen fell backwards onto his aft, staring up incredulous at Bluestreak.
“What the hell, Blue?!" Smokescreen demanded as he started to get his feet under him.
“No!” Bluestreak snapped. He moved far faster than he had any right to move, almost instantly coming to straddle Smokescreen, pinning him to the plating. “No more of this! I have tried to be reasonable and I have tried to speak with you and all you have done is try to play mind games with me! And I’m done, Smokey! I am completely done!”
“Then get off me!” Smokescreen growled, shoving at Bluestreak’s shoulders.
“Need I remind you that I am routinely with the Twins? That I am more than capable of holding my own with them?” Bluestreak’s growl was low and commanding and he easily kept Smokescreen pinned to the ground. “I am not going to let you go until I am sure that you’re not going to offline yourself!”
“Why do you fragging care?” Smokescreen demanded as he tried to free his arms from Bluestreak’s grip.
“You’re my friend!” Bluestreak snapped. “You’re my friend and I hate to see you spiralling like this and I really hate that you seem to think that you can’t turn to any of us!”
Smokescreen stopped fighting when it became clear that there was no way he could break Bluestreak’s hold without hurting the younger mech.
“Blue, what I'm dealing with isn't about Praxus and it is personal! It's not something that sharing will help. It's not something that you can fix. And unless you're planning on keeping me pinned until you can get Hoist to sedate me, what you're doing isn't going to work."
Bluestreak’s optics widened as it became clear that he hadn’t thought that far ahead.
“You’re right,” he said. He let go of his fellow Praxian and sat with the bar to his back. “You’re right. I have no way to really keep you here and as soon as the sedative wears off you’re just gonna go back to getting overcharged and taking all the chems you can get your hands on. And then I’m going to lose another Praxian.”
Smokescreen arched his chevron at that. “Guilt tripping me now?”
“Is it working?” Bluestreak asked with the slightest hint of a smile pulling at his lips.
That actually got a laugh out of Smokescreen. An honest, genuine laugh. He sat against the wall opposite Bluestreak. He sobered quickly and looked at his fellow Praxian.
“You’re right. I should talk to someone,” he said. “It’s just I’ve gotten so used to being the one who listens, you know? It was always that way. And this is something that I’ve kept so close for so long.”
“But you can talk to any of us,” Bluestreak protested. “You have friends who’d be happy to listen. Me, Ratchet, Jazz, Sideswipe, Prime. You have friends and we want to help you.”
“It’s cute that you think that, Blue,” Smokescreen said and immediately raised his hand to stave off the protest. “I know that I have friends, but I also know that none of them - yourself included - need my problems added to their own. I mean, what? I’m going to talk to you about the people I lost when Praxus fell? You were in it. You really don’t need me adding a name to your list.”
“Shouldn’t it be my decision if I want to add it?” Bluestreak asked.
Smokescreen nodded and looked down at his hands. Normally his doors were fully controlled - not still like Prowl’s giving away nothing, but it was more like every movement was calculated to give whatever impression Smokescreen wanted at any given time. Now though, they were moving on their own, dipping and shifting as he had a conversation in his own mind.
When he finally spoke Smokescreen’s voice was soft and Bluestreak got the feeling that this might have been the very first time he had really seen his fellow Praxian, all masks and personas stripped away.
“I had a sparkling. I’ve never actually told anyone that,” he said, a far away look in his optics. “I had named her Quicksilver since she was always in such a rush to get everywhere. A gift from her sire, I think - not that he was around long enough to donate much to her coding.”
Bluestreak looked genuinely confused by the confession. “I thought we couldn’t breed without the gestation chambers? I mean, that’s what the council always said.”
“Yeah, I bought into that lie too,” Smokescreen replied. He finally looked up and rested his head on the wall. “It’s why I never had suppressors installed when I left Praxus. I needed to spend my few shannix on better firewalls. And why waste time and currency on something I was never going to need, right?”
Bluestreak nodded but stayed silent.
“So I was surprised as anyone when I learned that I was sparked. Surprised. Shocked. Thrilled. Terrified? … I dunno. All the emotions.”
Smokescreen trailed off and offlined his optics.
Bluestreak stayed with Smokescreen, sure that he would start talking again if he was given enough time. He was rewarded several minutes later when Smokescreen onlined his optics and looked at the younger Praxian.
“I knew I couldn’t keep her. My life would never allow for it and even if it did, there was no way that I was going to raise her in a- … There was no way I was going to raise her where I lived and worked. So, when she was old enough to safely travel I sent her back to Praxus to be raised as a proper Praxian. Really I just wanted her to grow up around the crystal gardens and the spires. I wanted her to hear the wind of the sonic canyons passing through the chimes in the Temple. I wanted her to have everything that I had as a youngling, and since she wasn’t an outlier she wouldn’t be stigmatized. I thought I was making the right decision at the time. I mean, no one would ever attack Praxus. We were always peaceable. Neutral.”
He broke off with a sigh and shook his head.
“She’d’ve been about your age if the city hadn’t fallen. … And I can’t even make a proper offering to the deactivated because my House changed her designation to ensure that I would never be able to find her. It was part of the deal. They made sure she was safe and I gave up all claim to her.”
Bluestreak just stared at Smokescreen stunned silence.
"I … I'm so sorry, Smokescreen. I …." He looked down at his hands.
Smokescreen shook his head. "It's why I mourn alone. It's why I try to get as overcharged and overclocked as possible on the anniversary. We all lost someone, but I sent my someone back there. I may have never have been able to calculate that outcome but it doesn't change the fact that I sent her back there.I could have made different choices. I could have found a way to keep her with me. But instead I didn't even try. I gave her up and she's deactivated because of it."
Bluestreak came to sit next to Smokescreen and leaned against him, pulling him as close as their frame types would allow. They sat there in silence for a long time - maybe minutes, maybe hours. Bluestreak had stopped tracking. He just held Smokescreen and did what he could to provide the support that the psychologist was convinced he didn’t have.
“What if-” Bluestreak began hesitantly. “What if we started our own traditions? Made our own offerings to the deactivated? I mean, it’s not like the priests are around any more to tell us that we can’t right? And maybe Prime can help us. If anyone can get a direct line to the Well he can and then I’m sure that Quicksilver will hear you.”
Smokescreen pulled away and looked at Bluestreak, incredulous, his optics pale with grief. But there was something else there. Something close to hopeful.
“I - Blue, I-” Smokescreen reset his vocalizer, cycled his optics, and tried again. “That’s a great idea, Blue, I just don’t know if Prowl’ll go for it. We’ll need him on board.”
Bluestreak shrugged. “I’ll ask him. He almost never says no to me. Not when it isn’t about tactics and the war and stuff. I mean we won’t be able to put anything together today, but maybe by next week?”
After a long moment, Smokescreen nodded. “Okay, Blue. Just don’t tell him that you talked to me about this. He and I … Just, it’ll work out better if he thinks this is all coming from you, okay?”
Blustreak nodded. “Okay, sure, Smokey. I will. … So, can I convince you to come out with me? Not to Prowl, just out of here. Maybe we can watch a movie or go hang out in your quarters or something. Just, can we go somewhere that isn’t here?”
“Yeah, sure, Blue. We can do that.”
Rating: T
Characters: Bluestreak, Smokescreen
Pairings: Bluestreak/Sideswipe/Sunstreaker, Bluestreak/Jazz (implied), Red Alert/Prowl (mentioned); Smokescreen/Ratchet (suspected)
Warnings: Survivor’s guilt, implied self-harm, drugs and alcohol,
---
“I need to go,” Bluestreak whispered as he slipped off the berth.
“Stay,” Sunstreaker murmured, only half online.
“You’re not on shift today,” Sideswipe said as he reached out to take hold of Bluestreak’s arm with a light grip.
“Yeah, I know.” Bluestreak smiled and gently disengaged the black hand. “But I have something I need to deal with today. And I should probably wash up.”
Sunstreaker muttered something that sounded like ‘fine’ before rolling over and falling back into recharge.
“You want some help?” Sideswipe asked with a leer. “Because I could always help you get all that gold out of your hinges.”
“Oh, I’m sure you could,” Bluestreak replied with a sly grin. “Just like I’m sure that we’d do a lot more than washing and I’d never get to my thing.”
He leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to Sideswipe’s lips and was immediately pulled back into something that was anything but.
“Okay, okay, enough,” Bluestreak said as he pulled away from Sideswipe. “I would love to stay, believe me, but I really need to go.”
Sideswipe’s look went from teasing and seductive to concerned.
“You shouldn't be alone, Blue. Not today,” he said, taking hold of Bluestreak’s hand and squeezing it gently. “I worry about you and I want to help you work through the memories of … well, everything.”
“Seriously, Sides, I’m fine. And I promise I’ll be back later. Once I’m sure I’m done,” Bluestreak said tenderly.
Bluestreak got off the bed and moved to the door.
“What is it that you need to do?” Sideswipe asked before Bluestreak could leave.
Bluestreak was silent for a moment, his hand on the door.
“I’m not the only one who lost Praxus,” he finally said before leaving the room.
---
It took Bluestreak almost an hour to find his target, finally tracking him down deep in the bow of the Ark. It was an area that had been all but destroyed when the ship crashed into Mount Saint Hilary millennia before the volcano ever held that name.
“Smokey?” Bluestreak called as he worked his way over a pile of rubble and through a half-opened door. “Are you back here?”
There was no reply, but Bluestreak did hear the faint sound of metal scraping over stone.
“Smokey? Come on, I know you’re in here,” Bluestreak continued. “I wanted to make sure that you’re okay.”
The room Bluestreak found himself in was the old Oil Bar - a sort of commissary and recreation room that had been intended for social gatherings and was to serve as a sort of casual observations lounge. It had never been put into use. It wasn’t as if a warship needed a rec room. It was surprising that this area of the Ark hadn’t been put back into use or at least scavenged for parts. It looked to Bluestreak as if all the old furnishings and equipment was still here and he found himself wondering if the lightboard games over in the far corner could be fixed up.
“I’m fine, Blue. Go back to the Twins. You shouldn’t be alone today,” Smokescreen said, pulling Bluestreak away from his rambling thoughts.
“And you should take your own advice,” Bluestreak replied as he rounded the bar and found Smokescreen sitting on the floor behind it.
Energon cubes, both full and empty were scattered around the older Praxian, and he was rolling a surprisingly undamaged bottle between his palms, contemplating it with dimmed optics. He should have been with Ratchet today if rumours of their relationship were to be believed, but the CMO had gone to Cybertron to help set up a new med centre for Elita’s crew. No one had been thinking of the anniversary when the mission had been set up.
“Blue, seriously, I’m fine,” Smokescreen murmured. “I would rather be alone with my thoughts and I won’t be good company for you today. You need someone to help distract you.”
Bluestreak carefully stepped over the cubes, the debris, and Smokescreen’s legs until he found a space where he could sit down comfortably. It put him in a position where he was between the wall and his fellow Praxain, well hidden behind the bar.
“I’ve been distracted enough, Smokey. And I can go back to them later if I need to. But right now, I think I need to be here.”
Smokescreen made a rude noise as he began working the seal on the bottle. “If you’re that gung-ho to be with a Praxian today, why don’t you go see if Prowl needs some distractions.”
Bluestreak shrugged. “Prowl has Red Alert. From what I can see they’re doing a fine job of dealing with their own issues in their own way. And Jazz and Inferno both promised to look in on them if they felt it was needed. Jazz probably meant exactly what he said, but I figure that Prowl and Red are going to get several interruptions from Inferno today. I’m not sure he trusts Prowl not to screw this up. I kind of figure that it’s not Inferno’s call to make, but the big guy is protective. Especially after the whole Negavator thing. I guess he thinks that he needs to make up for screwing up there. Not sure this is the best way, but who knows, right?”
As Bluestreak spoke, Smokescreen glared daggers at the bottle’s seal, as if willing it to open with the power of his mind.
“Blue, seriously, I’m fine!” Smokescreen snapped. His tone immediately softened. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. You and Prowl are the ones who lost Praxus. Not me. Now go back to the Twins or Jazz or Mirage or Hound or whoever, okay?”
Bluestreak’s look softened and he reached out to take the bottle from Smokescreen’s hands.
“You lost Praxus too, Smokescreen. You’re just as much a Praxian and Prowl and me.”
Smokescreen shook his head and reached for another undamaged bottle. “I know that, but I wasn’t as attached as the two of you were. I left Praxus a long time ago and never looked back.”
Bluestreak grabbed the bottle and slipped both it and the first one behind his back.
“Stop that! This engex is practically older than I am and there is no way that it’s still good!” Bluestreak snapped, ignoring Smokescreen’s glare. “And I’m not going to leave you here to kill yourself with energon poisoning while you lie to yourself! You’re hurting and you need someone!”
Smokescreen stood, his slight wobble and the flare of his doors exposing his overcharged state.
“I am really not in the mood to talk, Blue. And if that means I need to leave, then so be it.”
Bluestreak jumped up and grabbed at Smokescreen’s arm but had to let go when he was nearly hit with wide doors.
Cubes and bottles were kicked in all directions as the young gunner bolted after his fellow Praxian. He managed to grab Smokescreen’s arm just as he reached the door and pulled him back into the ruined Oil Bar.
“Smokescreen! Stop! I’m not going to let you keep doing this!”
Smokescreen came to a stop and glared down at the grey hand on his arm.
“You are not my keeper, Bluestreak,” he said in a low growl. “I don’t need your advice or help. All I need is to be left alone to mourn in my own way. Now go back to the Twins or Jazz or whoever’s berth you’re using to avoid dealing with your issues.”
Bluestreak’s optics narrowed and he tightened his grip on Smokescreen’s arm.
“Let me guess; I’m supposed to be so offended that I’m going to just let you go? That I’m going to go run back to the Twins and cry into their chestplates? Who knows? Maybe they’ll be so pissed off that you hurt me that they’ll come find you and beat you into scrap. That is what you want, isn’t it?”
For the briefest of moments Smokescreen seemed to wilt, his optics dimming and his doors falling on his back. In that moment, Bluestreak thought that he might have gotten through to Smokescreen. He was disabused of that notion in the next instant.
Smokescreen’s laugh rang out bitter and sharp in the empty room.
“Did you honestly think that-”
“Stop it!” Bluestreak snapped, his voice uncharacteristically hard. “Just stop trying to push everyone away, Smokescreen! Every year when the anniversary comes around, you disappear! You get overcharged and you overclock and you’re a mess for weeks afterwards!”
Bluestreak’s voice softened and he loosened his grip. With infinite tenderness he stepped forward and leaned in to press his chevron to Smokescreen’s.
“Smokey, you’re allowed to grieve. You taught me that we need to grieve in order to move on. We need to let it out. And you also taught me that it’s easier when someone’s there to grieve with.”
Smokescreen stayed like that for a long moment, cycling his venting slowly. For a long moment they stayed like that in a silent tableau. Finally Smokescreen pulled away and sighed. He took hold of Bluestreak’s arms and pushed him away gently.
“Bluestreak, it’s not that easy. It’s sweet that you think it is, but it’s not that easy. I am grieving. In my own way, I am, but I can’t do this with anyone else. We each need to grieve in our own way and I need to do this alone. I appreciate your concern, but I need to be alone, okay? You understand, right?”
Bluestreak looked at Smokescreen and then, with no warning, he hauled off and punched Smokescreen square in the nose. Smokescreen fell backwards onto his aft, staring up incredulous at Bluestreak.
“What the hell, Blue?!" Smokescreen demanded as he started to get his feet under him.
“No!” Bluestreak snapped. He moved far faster than he had any right to move, almost instantly coming to straddle Smokescreen, pinning him to the plating. “No more of this! I have tried to be reasonable and I have tried to speak with you and all you have done is try to play mind games with me! And I’m done, Smokey! I am completely done!”
“Then get off me!” Smokescreen growled, shoving at Bluestreak’s shoulders.
“Need I remind you that I am routinely with the Twins? That I am more than capable of holding my own with them?” Bluestreak’s growl was low and commanding and he easily kept Smokescreen pinned to the ground. “I am not going to let you go until I am sure that you’re not going to offline yourself!”
“Why do you fragging care?” Smokescreen demanded as he tried to free his arms from Bluestreak’s grip.
“You’re my friend!” Bluestreak snapped. “You’re my friend and I hate to see you spiralling like this and I really hate that you seem to think that you can’t turn to any of us!”
Smokescreen stopped fighting when it became clear that there was no way he could break Bluestreak’s hold without hurting the younger mech.
“Blue, what I'm dealing with isn't about Praxus and it is personal! It's not something that sharing will help. It's not something that you can fix. And unless you're planning on keeping me pinned until you can get Hoist to sedate me, what you're doing isn't going to work."
Bluestreak’s optics widened as it became clear that he hadn’t thought that far ahead.
“You’re right,” he said. He let go of his fellow Praxian and sat with the bar to his back. “You’re right. I have no way to really keep you here and as soon as the sedative wears off you’re just gonna go back to getting overcharged and taking all the chems you can get your hands on. And then I’m going to lose another Praxian.”
Smokescreen arched his chevron at that. “Guilt tripping me now?”
“Is it working?” Bluestreak asked with the slightest hint of a smile pulling at his lips.
That actually got a laugh out of Smokescreen. An honest, genuine laugh. He sat against the wall opposite Bluestreak. He sobered quickly and looked at his fellow Praxian.
“You’re right. I should talk to someone,” he said. “It’s just I’ve gotten so used to being the one who listens, you know? It was always that way. And this is something that I’ve kept so close for so long.”
“But you can talk to any of us,” Bluestreak protested. “You have friends who’d be happy to listen. Me, Ratchet, Jazz, Sideswipe, Prime. You have friends and we want to help you.”
“It’s cute that you think that, Blue,” Smokescreen said and immediately raised his hand to stave off the protest. “I know that I have friends, but I also know that none of them - yourself included - need my problems added to their own. I mean, what? I’m going to talk to you about the people I lost when Praxus fell? You were in it. You really don’t need me adding a name to your list.”
“Shouldn’t it be my decision if I want to add it?” Bluestreak asked.
Smokescreen nodded and looked down at his hands. Normally his doors were fully controlled - not still like Prowl’s giving away nothing, but it was more like every movement was calculated to give whatever impression Smokescreen wanted at any given time. Now though, they were moving on their own, dipping and shifting as he had a conversation in his own mind.
When he finally spoke Smokescreen’s voice was soft and Bluestreak got the feeling that this might have been the very first time he had really seen his fellow Praxian, all masks and personas stripped away.
“I had a sparkling. I’ve never actually told anyone that,” he said, a far away look in his optics. “I had named her Quicksilver since she was always in such a rush to get everywhere. A gift from her sire, I think - not that he was around long enough to donate much to her coding.”
Bluestreak looked genuinely confused by the confession. “I thought we couldn’t breed without the gestation chambers? I mean, that’s what the council always said.”
“Yeah, I bought into that lie too,” Smokescreen replied. He finally looked up and rested his head on the wall. “It’s why I never had suppressors installed when I left Praxus. I needed to spend my few shannix on better firewalls. And why waste time and currency on something I was never going to need, right?”
Bluestreak nodded but stayed silent.
“So I was surprised as anyone when I learned that I was sparked. Surprised. Shocked. Thrilled. Terrified? … I dunno. All the emotions.”
Smokescreen trailed off and offlined his optics.
Bluestreak stayed with Smokescreen, sure that he would start talking again if he was given enough time. He was rewarded several minutes later when Smokescreen onlined his optics and looked at the younger Praxian.
“I knew I couldn’t keep her. My life would never allow for it and even if it did, there was no way that I was going to raise her in a- … There was no way I was going to raise her where I lived and worked. So, when she was old enough to safely travel I sent her back to Praxus to be raised as a proper Praxian. Really I just wanted her to grow up around the crystal gardens and the spires. I wanted her to hear the wind of the sonic canyons passing through the chimes in the Temple. I wanted her to have everything that I had as a youngling, and since she wasn’t an outlier she wouldn’t be stigmatized. I thought I was making the right decision at the time. I mean, no one would ever attack Praxus. We were always peaceable. Neutral.”
He broke off with a sigh and shook his head.
“She’d’ve been about your age if the city hadn’t fallen. … And I can’t even make a proper offering to the deactivated because my House changed her designation to ensure that I would never be able to find her. It was part of the deal. They made sure she was safe and I gave up all claim to her.”
Bluestreak just stared at Smokescreen stunned silence.
"I … I'm so sorry, Smokescreen. I …." He looked down at his hands.
Smokescreen shook his head. "It's why I mourn alone. It's why I try to get as overcharged and overclocked as possible on the anniversary. We all lost someone, but I sent my someone back there. I may have never have been able to calculate that outcome but it doesn't change the fact that I sent her back there.I could have made different choices. I could have found a way to keep her with me. But instead I didn't even try. I gave her up and she's deactivated because of it."
Bluestreak came to sit next to Smokescreen and leaned against him, pulling him as close as their frame types would allow. They sat there in silence for a long time - maybe minutes, maybe hours. Bluestreak had stopped tracking. He just held Smokescreen and did what he could to provide the support that the psychologist was convinced he didn’t have.
“What if-” Bluestreak began hesitantly. “What if we started our own traditions? Made our own offerings to the deactivated? I mean, it’s not like the priests are around any more to tell us that we can’t right? And maybe Prime can help us. If anyone can get a direct line to the Well he can and then I’m sure that Quicksilver will hear you.”
Smokescreen pulled away and looked at Bluestreak, incredulous, his optics pale with grief. But there was something else there. Something close to hopeful.
“I - Blue, I-” Smokescreen reset his vocalizer, cycled his optics, and tried again. “That’s a great idea, Blue, I just don’t know if Prowl’ll go for it. We’ll need him on board.”
Bluestreak shrugged. “I’ll ask him. He almost never says no to me. Not when it isn’t about tactics and the war and stuff. I mean we won’t be able to put anything together today, but maybe by next week?”
After a long moment, Smokescreen nodded. “Okay, Blue. Just don’t tell him that you talked to me about this. He and I … Just, it’ll work out better if he thinks this is all coming from you, okay?”
Blustreak nodded. “Okay, sure, Smokey. I will. … So, can I convince you to come out with me? Not to Prowl, just out of here. Maybe we can watch a movie or go hang out in your quarters or something. Just, can we go somewhere that isn’t here?”
“Yeah, sure, Blue. We can do that.”