A Con, Not A 'Con.

Lieutenant Lieutenant has a new reference (and one missing gun holster)!! This time I decided not to hide his freckles.  =D

“Wit’ what?” Kilowatt had just gotten back from his early shift, settling back to read one of his old digital magazines from Cybertron, as Arrow had come in and practically fallen onto his respective berth. “Ya mean wit’ yer fightin’ class?”

Arrow hadn’t ever told the truck why he’d go out a little before 0300 every day, but by the state the flier came back in by late-morning; banged up and exhausted, it wasn’t hard to figure out.

The truck turned off the datapad, setting it aside as he looked at the flier. On any other occasion, Kilowatt would have ignored the flier’s whining but for some reason this was different. Arrow didn’t sound as plaintiff as he did… disappointed.

“Who’s trainin’ ya?” The truck asked. Depending on the teacher, he would know whether to feel sorry for the kid or not.

He let out a sleepy laugh. “That’d be so cool if they did…” He mumbled as he took a sip of his cube. It was easier to drink now that he could breathe, and while his tank still felt kind of sick he wasn’t about to spit it back up again. “Red optics weren’t a good thing on Lanarq. I tried to get them changed every time I got a frame upgrade, eventually Sa-” He cut himself off. Not tonight. He took a breath and tried again.

He’d figured Arrow had just preferred the blue over the red, but Kilowatt should have known better. Arrow was very smart, and during the war, red optics alone were enough to make most mechs treat you differently. Arrow had seen this, even being a neutral, and Kilowatt hadn’t even considered that aspect. The feelings of hatred against those who had wrecked their planet ran far and deep. There was no reason neutrals wouldn’t feel the same as those fighting, and red optics were usually associated with the Decepticons.

“Well, ain’t nobody here gonna treat ya different.” Kilowatt said softly, “They might lookatcha funny, might ask why you changed yer colors… but they know you.”

He sighed again, looking down at Arrow’s half-empty cube. He’d wanted to talk about something not so dreary, but he’d failed spectacularly at that front. At this point he had considered blundering on with his follow-up question about changing paint colors to compliment his current lights, but the mech fell silent, sure now that was a topic for a later date.

Instead, he sat in silence for another few minutes and spoke again as a fresh question came to his mind.

He still didn’t know what, exactly, Arrow had been doing, and only had a vague idea of who it had been with, but this whole meltdown had been because he’d been ready to give up on whatever this endeavor was, as far as Kilowatt remembered. From what he’d gathered, it had something to do with his wing, flying, and, judging by the way he’d always come back to the suite battered and dented, fighting.

“So… what’d you decide? Gonna give up, er not?” He asked, with only a curious interest.

He looked down at his plating as Midnight booped him. He was going to need to change his paint to keep from clashing. He was still vain enough to care about that, and maybe he could find a color to make the lights stand out less. More to talk to Fusion about in the morning.

The cube was starting to slip from his slackening servo, thankfully it was basically resting on his leg already.

Truthfully, Fusion had become very invested in Arrow’s future.

She’d initiated his training with Shadowflight which she hoped was helping. Whenever she asked Shadowflight about it, she said it was going well, and she was going to see Arrow soon for his views on said lessons.

She didn’t tell any of this to Lockjaw, even though she wanted to, because it was really Arrow’s choice whether to share the information or not.

“I agree.” Fusion said warmly, “He really is a good kid.” She sighed, “And there’s Amok and Jigsaw too.” She said fondly, “Jig seems more comfortable here now, and Amok’s lessons are going so well. I really think he’ll be a good medic.”

And she fell silent, smiling down at her hands as she thought about all the other young sparks the Alliance was home to. Roto, Clash, Low… and there were bound to be more in the future. This was such a safe place.

She looked up again after a moment, “You should probably get some rest, Lockjaw. Do you need anything?” She asked readying to stand when he stood. “And… maybe sometime soon we can sit and talk about your spark again.” She said tentatively. “I think it would be good, even if I can’t help you physically.”  She gave Lockjaw a gentle smile, looking slightly up at him as she awaited his reply.

It wasn’t really her place to give a doctor advice, but it was offered more as a friend.

Lockjaw smiled. “I’ve never seen a kinder spark than Roto, he’ll grow up to do wonderful things. You should be very proud.” The future looked brightest from the windows of the Alliance base, certainly. And while on another day Lockjaw would question the downsides of safety through isolation and it’s long-term effects, for now he felt content enough. At the very least, it was a safe harbor in a four million year storm.

Rest? Yes he could probably use some... But talking about his spark? It wasn’t as if that was something he regularly did, there were so few who understood the ramifications, but he supposed it could be good. “So long as that’s not the only thing we discuss,” he clarified. “I would love to.” 

Speaking outside of work with his colleagues, his friends, was different. He hadn’t done that since Lanarq, years and years ago. Perhaps it was time for the change.

“Wit’ what?” Kilowatt had just gotten back from his early shift, settling back to read one of his old digital magazines from Cybertron, as Arrow had come in and practically fallen onto his respective berth. “Ya mean wit’ yer fightin’ class?”

Arrow hadn’t ever told the truck why he’d go out a little before 0300 every day, but by the state the flier came back in by late-morning; banged up and exhausted, it wasn’t hard to figure out.

The truck turned off the datapad, setting it aside as he looked at the flier. On any other occasion, Kilowatt would have ignored the flier’s whining but for some reason this was different. Arrow didn’t sound as plaintiff as he did… disappointed.

“Who’s trainin’ ya?” The truck asked. Depending on the teacher, he would know whether to feel sorry for the kid or not.

He bit back a whine when Kilowatt moved away only to feel a wash of relief when he returned to the berth. Arrow curled close again, wings drooping in exhaustion to frame the rubbing up and down his backstrut. It had only been a few minutes since he’d spoken up, no more than ten maybe, and he’d used up whatever energy had been leftover from training. He let out a shuddering breath and jolted just a little out of his half-doze as Midnight pushed her way onto his lap.

“She’s got great taste,” he mumbled as he reached up a servo to pet the cat. “Dont’cha, girl?” Digits tink’ed against the mane of crystals that floated in the cat’s EM field as he stroked along her plating and biolights. Their lights had matched in color until a few minutes ago, and now hints of red peeked out from between his seams. Arrow’s tank rolled in his chassis at the thought.

He’d done it though, there wasn’t any undoing it. Custom work, shattered in a tantrum. Fragging lovely.

“Yeh,” Kilowatt said, his tone even and matter-of-fact. This was far from over, “Tomorrow though, if ya drink ‘least half a this before ya sleep.” He pressed the cube on Arrow again, “In the mornin’ yer gonna clean the room an’ go see Fusion.” He said decidedly. There was no use doing it tonight and bothering the medic unless Arrow became physically sick again. “An… Ah can’t make ya tell Fusion anythin’,” Kilowatt continued, his voice becoming harder, “But ya should tell her.” Fusion was good, she would be able to help the flier, or find someone who could.

Although Kilowatt wasn’t Arrow’s sire and he couldn’t tell him how to run his life, he knew that if Arrow didn’t get help through this, he would go through the same scrap Kilowatt had. He’d been there. He’d felt like he would never be whole on the inside ever again and no one had been there to help him through it, to show him a way out. He’d been so angry with himself… He didn’t want that for Arrow.

There was another moment of silence and then Kilowatt added softly, “Can’t let them thoughts convince ya yer worthless.”

But he didn’t dwell and swiftly changed the subject to something less dramatic, “So,” He began, his tone brighter, “Red, huh?” He asked conversationally. “Were they always secretly red er do they jus’ change when you’ve got a real bad temper?”

He let out a sleepy laugh. “That’d be so cool if they did...” He mumbled as he took a sip of his cube. It was easier to drink now that he could breathe, and while his tank still felt kind of sick he wasn’t about to spit it back up again. “Red optics weren’t a good thing on Lanarq. I tried to get them changed every time I got a frame upgrade, eventually Sa-” He cut himself off. Not tonight. He took a breath and tried again.

“Wit’ what?” Kilowatt had just gotten back from his early shift, settling back to read one of his old digital magazines from Cybertron, as Arrow had come in and practically fallen onto his respective berth. “Ya mean wit’ yer fightin’ class?”

Arrow hadn’t ever told the truck why he’d go out a little before 0300 every day, but by the state the flier came back in by late-morning; banged up and exhausted, it wasn’t hard to figure out.

The truck turned off the datapad, setting it aside as he looked at the flier. On any other occasion, Kilowatt would have ignored the flier’s whining but for some reason this was different. Arrow didn’t sound as plaintiff as he did… disappointed.

“Who’s trainin’ ya?” The truck asked. Depending on the teacher, he would know whether to feel sorry for the kid or not.

He wanted to vomit, not drink, but he didn’t want to argue. He didn’t deserve to refuse this, not when he was such a fragging mess and inconvenience to Kilowatt. He forced himself to take a proper gulp and gagged on the pink liquid, coughing it back up and onto the floor.

Fraggit he couldn’t even drink right–

“All my fragging fault,” he whimpered, trying to tuck himself a little closer to Kilowatt to keep his frame from shaking apart without spilling any of the cube. “I fragged up my wings and I can’t fly and I’m stupid and I’m sorry…” He was so tired, so Primus-damned tired. Kilowatt had to be too, and here he was taking up his recharge time and Kilowatt was being nice about it.

Then, he frowned at Arrow’s last words, “That… ain’t true, ya'know.” He started awkwardly, “It ain’t that Ah don’t like ya… we just… clash.” He finished lamely.

He was still stroking Arrow’s backstrut as he decided what to do with the flier. Kilowatt’s knee joints were starting to strain as they sat huddled on the floor together, and suddenly Kilowatt chuckled, picturing how bizarre this scene might look to someone outside.

“People ‘ll talk if they see us like this.” He said wryly, “C’mere.” Then, as if picking up an overly large toddler, the truck pulled Arrow off the floor with the ease of long practice (thanks to Flashstep), before rolling across the room and settling the flier on his own berth. He retrieved the cube, and seated himself next to Arrow to rub his shoulders and back again. Arrow probably needed to see Fusion and talk with her, but Kilowatt decided he would give Arrow a few more minutes to settle and to try and keep down some energon before he called the medic.

As the noise had finally died down, Midnight poked her head out from under the crawl space below the shelving unit where she had hidden, and mewled indignantly, shaking her bright crystalline tail and mane before plodding over to them silently and hopping onto the berth. She walked across Kilowatt’s lap, pausing to purr and rub against him, before going to Arrow’s lap and looking up at him expectantly with her big, bright blue optics, purring louder still.

He bit back a whine when Kilowatt moved away only to feel a wash of relief when he returned to the berth. Arrow curled close again, wings drooping in exhaustion to frame the rubbing up and down his backstrut. It had only been a few minutes since he’d spoken up, no more than ten maybe, and he’d used up whatever energy had been leftover from training. He let out a shuddering breath and jolted just a little out of his half-doze as Midnight pushed her way onto his lap.

“She’s got great taste,” he mumbled as he reached up a servo to pet the cat. “Dont’cha, girl?” Digits tink’ed against the mane of crystals that floated in the cat’s EM field as he stroked along her plating and biolights. Their lights had matched in color until a few minutes ago, and now hints of red peeked out from between his seams. Arrow’s tank rolled in his chassis at the thought.

He’d done it though, there wasn’t any undoing it. Custom work, shattered in a tantrum. Fragging lovely.

“…I still don’t know if his spark merely gave out, or if someone engineered his death.” He murmured, flexing his digits and staring resolutely down at them instead of up at Fusion. She had a good spark, but he was certain that looking up at her would do something to shatter him. At the moment, he couldn’t risk it, not while he was thinking about Atmo. “He was so frail… Anyone could have set off a chain reaction by being too rough, by pushing him too far, by giving him the wrong type of energon…”

There were a thousand things that could have happened.

She couldn’t imagine the pain. She couldn’t imagine, now after she had a family of her own, losing one of them. But Lockjaw’s last words gave her a good idea. It was bad enough having to feel when Rotozip was upset or when Breakshift was ill, but to know the pain of having to operate on them, to cut into her loved ones… she was very grateful not to have experienced that yet.

Dropping all professional pretext, Fusion stood from where she’d settled herself on her stool, and embraced Lockjaw. Though it was awkward with him sitting and her half-standing, she held on for a long while, holding him tightly as her EM field blossomed with all of the love and empathy she could muster. There was no way for her to make it better, but she desperately wanted Lockjaw to feel comforted, even in the smallest of ways. It was all she could do. 

Finally, she forced herself to pull away and she sat back on her stool. She quickly wiped her face and sniffed, “Sorry,” She mumbled quickly, apologizing for the very unprofessional and impulsive act, “I’m sorry.”

The medic swallowed back her tears, trying to compose herself again. She hadn’t meant for Lockjaw to relive this traumatic experience, but, as she sat looking at her hands and venting purposefully, she wondered just how many people the doctor had shared this story with. It couldn’t be an easy one to tell.

'Such a kind spark,’ he thought to himself. ‘How did that ever outlast the war?’ Everyone he’d ever met after the fighting had died down had born the scars of battle, physically or otherwise, but Fusion was kind and honest and upstanding. He hadn’t seen mecha like her since his days in Iacon’s hospitals and repair centers.

It was strange, certainly, but he was feeling better now overall thanks to her. “I do,” he replied. “A few good ones, at least.” Bittersweet things when there could have been so many more, but he had a few at least.

“And Arrow...” He smiled, a warmth turning over in his spark at the thought of Grifter’s eldest. He’d never told Grifter or Arrow about his hand in the jet’s creation, happy enough to just watch Arrow grow up safely with his Sire from afar. From the sound of things, he had come quite a ways. “He’ll find it eventually, I think. He has a long way to go but he’s come farther than he realizes.” 

“Wit’ what?” Kilowatt had just gotten back from his early shift, settling back to read one of his old digital magazines from Cybertron, as Arrow had come in and practically fallen onto his respective berth. “Ya mean wit’ yer fightin’ class?”

Arrow hadn’t ever told the truck why he’d go out a little before 0300 every day, but by the state the flier came back in by late-morning; banged up and exhausted, it wasn’t hard to figure out.

The truck turned off the datapad, setting it aside as he looked at the flier. On any other occasion, Kilowatt would have ignored the flier’s whining but for some reason this was different. Arrow didn’t sound as plaintiff as he did… disappointed.

“Who’s trainin’ ya?” The truck asked. Depending on the teacher, he would know whether to feel sorry for the kid or not.

Up until now he’d just been spewing what he normally said to Flash when he was upset, but that didn’t seem to work for Arrow. Instead, Kilowatt just let the flier cry and Arrow’s pained request only made the truck draw the avian closer as he hummed softly, “Yeah… s’okay…”

He wanted to help, but he didn’t know how other than to be and continue rubbing soothing circles between the flier’s wings.

Arrow seemed to have expended all his energy now and he’d come in looking worn out…

He wanted to vomit, not drink, but he didn’t want to argue. He didn’t deserve to refuse this, not when he was such a fragging mess and inconvenience to Kilowatt. He forced himself to take a proper gulp and gagged on the pink liquid, coughing it back up and onto the floor.

Fraggit he couldn’t even drink right--

“All my fragging fault,” he whimpered, trying to tuck himself a little closer to Kilowatt to keep his frame from shaking apart without spilling any of the cube. “I fragged up my wings and I can’t fly and I’m stupid and I’m sorry...” He was so tired, so Primus-damned tired. Kilowatt had to be too, and here he was taking up his recharge time and Kilowatt was being nice about it.

There was, however a large scar over his spark that Fusion had been tactful enough to not bring up. 

She was glad to be able to provide comfort in small ways because sometimes, that was all she could do, and she gave him a small, sad smile.

The medic listened intently as Lockjaw explained, and she had kept her composure about the rather upsetting subject, up until he had compared Atmo and Rotozip.

If she lost Rotozip…

She would probably have a scar the same length and depth as the one Lockjaw suffered from.

Tactful as it had been for her not to bring it up before, she hadn’t put two and two together until now.

“...I still don’t know if his spark merely gave out, or if someone engineered his death.” He murmured, flexing his digits and staring resolutely down at them instead of up at Fusion. She had a good spark, but he was certain that looking up at her would do something to shatter him. At the moment, he couldn’t risk it, not while he was thinking about Atmo. “He was so frail... Anyone could have set off a chain reaction by being too rough, by pushing him too far, by giving him the wrong type of energon...”

There were a thousand things that could have happened.

“Wanna dance?”

The question should have come as no surprise to Kilowatt, but it had.

He swore Arrow had sucked down one too many shots tonight, but the blue and yellow avian looked intent on getting an answer to his question.

“No,” Kilowatt replied firmly, enjoying his own drink still, “find som’one else.”

The tan and green truck had expected the flier to flounce off and ask someone else; after all, he’d known his answer already, hadn’t he? He knew how Kilowatt felt about dancing…

But Arrow looked positively hurt.

His wings sank and his brow rose, then fell, showing his spirits change from hope, to despair. 

He’d actually wanted Kilowatt to dance with him?

Arrow’s sad gaze fell on the dancefloor, and everyone the truck had ever seen him partner with was taken, even Flashstep.

Oh, so he was last-pick, huh?

As Kilowatt glared the other down, he saw Arrow set his jaw and turn back towards the tables.

If he had turned the other way, Kilowatt would have assumed he’d have shoved his way through the crowd and found a partner in spite of the situation, but the avian slumped down into his seat and stared into his empty glass.

He was giving up? Arrow never just gave up.

Kilowatt watched as the avian sulked, and… the sight just didn’t sit right.

With a heavy sigh and his inner self asking him why in Primus’ name he was doing this, Kilowatt got up and rolled over to Arrow’s table.

The avian didn’t even show the least bit of hope he’d come over here to say anything nice, much less–

“Fine.”

Begrudgingly as he’d said it, Arrow’s face lit up and he sprang from his seat, nearly falling out of it, before taking Kilowatt’s servo and pulling him to the dance floor.

The truck groaned. He hated dancing…

“Come over here and make me.”

“Have you lost your damn mind!?”

“Please, don’t leave.”

“Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?”

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

“I almost lost you.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Don’t you ever do that again!”

“Teach me how to play?”

“Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, Primus dammit!”

“I think we need to talk.”

“Kiss me.”

“Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”

“So, I found this waterfall…”

“It could be worse.”

“Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…”

“This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”

“The paint’s supposed to go where?”

“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

“We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

“Just once.”

“You’re the only one I trust to do this.”

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

“I got you a present.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Marry me?”

“I thought you were dead.”

“It’s not what it looks like…”

“You lied to me.”

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

“Please don’t do this.”

“If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed.”

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

“I wish I could hate you.”

“Wanna dance?”

“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

“Hey! I was gonna eat that!”

“Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?”

“You did all of this for me?”

“I swear it was an accident.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

“If you die, I’m gonna kill you.”

“Tell me a secret.”

“Hey, have you seen the..? Oh.”

"No one needs to know.”

“Boo.”

“Well this is awkward…”

“Wit’ what?” Kilowatt had just gotten back from his early shift, settling back to read one of his old digital magazines from Cybertron, as Arrow had come in and practically fallen onto his respective berth. “Ya mean wit’ yer fightin’ class?”

Arrow hadn’t ever told the truck why he’d go out a little before 0300 every day, but by the state the flier came back in by late-morning; banged up and exhausted, it wasn’t hard to figure out.

The truck turned off the datapad, setting it aside as he looked at the flier. On any other occasion, Kilowatt would have ignored the flier’s whining but for some reason this was different. Arrow didn’t sound as plaintiff as he did… disappointed.

“Who’s trainin’ ya?” The truck asked. Depending on the teacher, he would know whether to feel sorry for the kid or not.

At the same time, Kilowatt had to remind himself to vent as well. He had been so swept up in listening, watching, that now he realized just how many times he’d been in the same place Arrow was, though he had always been alone.

The sorrow, the despair, all flooded back from the long nights where he had wished someone would have been there for him as he was for Arrow right now, compounded with the empathy he was experiencing, brought tears to the truck’s optics.

Damnit.

He wasn’t going to do this now.

“Hey!” The truck jerked the flier slightly, pulling away for a moment to wipe his own optics, “Hey, c’mon Arrow,” he coaxed somewhat gruffly, “Yer not a failure till you give up. Ya understand?”

At more than one point in the tan and green mech’s life, He’d been low— lower than this, and though he had never been in Arrow’s position, he could still imagine how he felt.

Broken, worthless, empty, the truck could see it all in the flier as he maneuvered to face him, “Let’s talk, mech.” He offered a pained smile, “Ya need ta talk, er— sort it out, okay?”