Fast Bridge

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

PG
IDW after AHM 7
Sideswipe/Blurr
warnings: Spoilers for AHM? And for once, Blurr NOT being a total dick? 
for tf_rare_pairing weekly request Sideswipe/Blurr every day’s a struggle just to get by.

 

Sideswipe slumped in the corridor, tipping his head back, to rest against the cold plascrete of the wall behind him.  Sunstreaker’s words echoed in his cortex, like a shout, or a scream, the true pain, the true horror lingering long after the sound.  The humans had done…unspeakable things to Sunstreaker, things Sideswipe couldn’t imagine at all, much less surviving.  And Sunstreaker was here: alive, and still fighting. 

Sideswipe’s hand crept to his damaged shoulder, the capped lines, soldered wires. Useless, one-armed, with the Swarm coming down upon them like a tsunami, like some divine punishment from Primus himself. And he’d thought this was bad.He hadn't known.

Footsteps, fast and light, moving down the corridor.  Sideswipe lifted his head from the wall, gave a gruff, short nod at the blue mech. Blurr.One of the new arrivals.

“Hey, uh, Sidewarp, right?”

“Sideswipe.” The correction was flat, automatic.  Funny, there was a time when he’d have gotten furious, when all that mattered to him was that he was great. That he was Sunstreaker’s equal, if not better. 

Blurr laughed. “Right. Yeah, sorry. Names…really aren’t my thing.” He dropped down across from Sideswipe, elegant blue feet almost brushing his. 

Sideswipe shrugged. “Not really important here, anyway. There’s us, and the Swarm.”  And shortly, the way it looked, it would just be the Swarm. He could feel Blurr’s optics on him, on the amputated shoulder. Wanting to ask? Or just…staring? 

Didn’t matter. 

“Bet you were surprised to see us,” Blurr laughed, the self-assured sound of someone who had rarely—if ever—known self-doubt. Why would he? He was always good, always the best, at something.  Sideswipe had always been second-best. If  that. Always in Sunstreaker’s shadow, always fighting to get a little patch of that light for himself.

And now? No light, anywhere, no fame for anyone. But Blurr was still relaxed, at ease, as if that mattered anymore.

Nothing mattered anymore. Sideswipe shrugged, wincing at the pull on his shoulder.

Blurr laughed, again, a bit rueful, one hand coming up to his jaw. “Yeah well, Jazz sure wasn't thrilled.”

Jazz had held to his command—the only thing holding him together.  Sideswipe could relate. He wished he had something—even pride—to cling to. “I think the idea was that if you weren’t here, at least you wouldn’t die.”

Blurr snorted. “Right. The Wreckers have such a high survival rate.”

“Better ways to die than here. Better things to die for than…,” Sideswipe gestured, feebly, with his hand, “this.”

“We’re used to not getting…,” Blurr cocked his head, amused, “easy missions.” 

“You make it sound like you expect a miracle.”

A wink. “You’d be surprised.  Most of us thought we were goners before. Almost surprised Springer got us through that blockade up there.”  He chuckled. “Though the landing was a bit rough.”

Sideswipe frowned.  Blurr’s humor was beginning to grate. Didn’t he see what they were facing? Didn’t he take it seriously?  “Not funny.”

The smile wavered. “Yeah. I know. Believe me.”  The blue optics traveled over the stump of Sideswipe’s shoulder. “Look. I know what you’re going through.”

Right.  “Do you.”

That same cocky shrug Sideswipe remembered from the old days, from the racing vids.  He’d loved watching the races. Sunstreaker had preferred the fights, once they’d started, knowing he didn’t stand a chance at racing but thinking, in that supreme confidence he’d shown with in those days, and…pretty much every day until they’d gone to Earth that he'd best the entire Arena circuit; but Sideswipe had always loved the reckless abandon of the racers, their complete focus, movement. Not like this, stagnation, forced stillness, no place to go but death--but active, moving, chasing after victory, chasing fame.

Even if they failed, even if they came in second, they were still famous, they were still important. 

In combat?  Second best meant loss, defeat, death.

“Well,” Blurr said, leaning forward, his knees dropping out to the sides, “Not the details. I’m not a details mech. But tell me if this sounds familiar.” Blurr tapped one foot almost playfully against Sideswipe’s ankle.  “You’re good at one thing. And suddenly—for whatever reason—you can’t do that anymore. And everything that gave your life meaning, suddenly…isn’t there anymore.  Gone.” He made a flashy starburst gesture with one hand.  “And it makes you question yourself, why you ever thought that stuff mattered, even though you don’t have a better answer.”

He sat back, trying to summon the smile again, seeming to know that it came out lopsided. 

“Yeah,” Sideswipe said, his voice a chalky croak. “Not sure anything’s worth it.”

A sigh. “Worth what? You?” Blurr tipped his head. 

“Don’t have much left.”  Sideswipe rotated the mangled shoulder, exposing the charred, half-melted mass of the injury. From here, he could still smell it, half-rancid oil, half scorched insulation.

“None of us do,” Blurr murmured.  “Still, it’s what we do. Give, till there’s nothing.” He shrugged. “Like racing, in a way.”

Sideswipe tore his attention from his own scars. Right. This wasn’t a race to anything but death. The final finish line.

“It’s true.” Blurr’s optics went distant, staring over Sideswipe’s helm. “All mechs saw was the glory, right? No one ever talked about how hard we worked. Or how hard it was to adapt to race mods—you’d stumble around for days in your own home, because the balance compensators hadn’t updated.  Or the race itself, how much it hurt—fuel draining, pistons on fire, heating despite all the lubricant, core temp spiking…,” he shrugged. “We never talked about it, I guess, because we wanted it to look easy. We wanted to be gods.” His gaze dropped to his hands.

“There are no gods,” Sideswipe murmured. Only the Swarm, and Sunstreaker—a broken god who had tried so hard to hold the pieces together they had crumbled in his hands.

“No,” Blurr said.  “Not here, not then, either. Only everyone trying to act harder than they are.” A flicker of the smile again, and their gazes met, Sideswipe recognizing his own hurt, again, in Blurr’s optics.”For all the good it does.”

“Maybe the good thing that comes out of this,” Sideswipe said, quietly, “Is that we give that up.  Stop trying so hard to look hard and just…be.”

Blurr laughed, but it was aimed at himself this time. “If you can do that, Sideswipe, you’re braver than anyone else here.” 

 

Comments

[eerian_sadow]

non-asshole Blurr was awesome! still the right amount of swagger and cockiness in his mannerisms and speech to be definitely him, but also comforting in the way Sideswipe needed him to be. excellent work!

[tainry.livejournal.com]

<333

[darkeyes-17.livejournal.com]

Very well done without being OOC. I can see Blurr's typical mannerisms, but the cockiness is diluted. I like it. Very much <3

[mieka-writes.livejournal.com]

whoa.. some deep insight there Blurr

[kamiraptor.livejournal.com]

*purrs**kneads**is happeh*

Actually I really wanna snuggle them both right now, but I'm not sure either of them would stand for it. :3

Both Sides and Blurr are totally believable- Sideswipe for the angst that comes from living in another's shadow, and Blurr for still being him even though, as he said, his world is gone and what he was doesn't really matter anymore.

I really liked your details for behind-the-scenes racing!