re_alignment_logs | stripping away fear

Entry tags:

stripping away fear

Who: Drift, Wing, Ambulon
What: Stopping Drift from being...Drift.
Where: Vector's, the Hub.
When: Today
Warnings: Probably a lot of yelling. Mostly at Drift.
What the hell is going on here?: Collapsing a locked post and actiony things into one so as not to spam the game with Driftidiocy.

There are caves under Vector's palace. He'd seen them before, catching glimpses as he drove over the bridges--little mouths of darkness in the crystalline walls.

And he's found one, now, where the wind through the chasm pulls a pure, beautiful note out of the stone, and at night, lights glimmered in soft, will-o'-wisp pastels, piezoelectric in the crystal. It's beautiful. And it reminds him of Crystal City, in ways that make sense probably only to him. Beauty, peace, and the knowledge of how precious life is when you realize you're about to die.

He didn't want to do this. But there was no other choice. He couldn't live in fear, any more than he could expect others to die in his stead. So he sat, day and night, holding that fear, studying, peeling it back, layer by layer, laying himself bare, good and ugly, bad and beautiful. He studied fear, how it moved through his body, copperwire and tight. He asked it questions, until he understood.

He'd been afraid on Cybertron, but here, he'd realized that fear of death is a selfish thing. It had been new to him, anyway: Deadlock hadn't feared dying. He'd gladly die, if it served a purpose, if it advanced the side of right.

He'd been on the wrong side, then, but that thought was still in him.

The fear he'd felt on Delphi was the fear of dying...for nothing. Fear of being trapped by his past, dying unable to escape who he'd been.

That was another world. That wasn't here.

He wasn't afraid of pain. A mech didn't stab himself through the chassis if he feared pain.

What he did fear, in the end, was hurting others. This was new to him, here. On the Lost Light, he had to say no one would miss him. Perceptor barely spoke to him. Rodimus was his one friend, but he knew no one could replace Rodimus in Rodimus's own spark.

Here...though.

And he couldn't shake that fear. He couldn't make the hurt of that go away. But he had to say good bye. Because Wing deserved, in the end, to know how he'd felt and what he meant.

He cycles one last vent of air, and turns on the comm.

"Wing.

There's something I have to do. Please believe me when I say there's no other way." He sighs, struggling for words. They're going to be his last ones, or the last ones he wants to be remembered by, not whatever puling weak sobs Tarn would probably pull out of him in his last moments.

"It's Tarn. He's going to want to kill me. He thrives on fear. It's what he lives for. He's the worst of what the Decepticons became--what you saved me from becoming.

"We need to know how he works, so we can stop him. We need--I need--him not to go after anyone else. And I can't let anyone 'protect' me. I...can't. I can't have someone else risk themselves. Not for me.

"I can find out how he works, how he kills. If the worst happens, I'll come back. Believe this. We've seen the dead return, and no one--no one--has more of a reason to want to come back." Because he has Wing, which he never had back in their world.

"Don't be upset, Wing. Please. I--I can't bear it. The thought of hurting you is what kept me from going after him the first time I saw him on the network. But he'll hurt you more, if we let him. He'll try to twist you up, make you live afraid of the future. I don't want that for you. Not about me."

He looks up, off camera, at the night sky, beyond the cave's mouth and gives a fond, almost tearful smile. "I used to look up, you know. Wherever it was, when everything seemed the most hopeless, I used to look up into the stars and find the brightest one and say 'There. That one is Wing, looking over me.' You've always been my brightest star. Please don't let this dim your brightness."

He pauses, for a long moment, whispering "I love you," before he cuts the feed. He's delayed long enough.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ambulon had been careful to slip out of the temple, make his way quickly to the Hub clinic. After speaking to Drift, with his wild idea of confronting Tarn by himself, Ambulon knew he couldn't stop him.

So he decided to find the one person who could.

Wing was at the club when he arrived. Place was rather quiet. Given the current situation, seemed about appropriate. Nonetheless, he found the white mech soon enough, quickly making his way over.

"I'm glad you're here," Ambulon sighed once some feet in front of him. Cut right to the chase: "About Drift..."

Tarn's arrival had created all types of upheaval and Drift was no exception. Wing had accepted and even supported Drift's need to seek guidance from within. The jet hoped a few days removed and he would return with some clarity of purpose.

So he's handling some routine chores around the bar when Ambulon enters. Wing looks up with a smile but there's something in the medic's manner that gives him pause.

"Ambulon...what is it? What about him?"

Ambulon took a moment to collect himself. "He hasn't spoken to you--" He cut himself short. Well, obviously not. "Drift's in trouble," he said, quickly, forcing himself to lower his voice. The few people around didn't need to be involved with this mess.

He closed a few inches of space with Wing, speaking quietly, and calmly, "He's gone off to do something incredibly moronic." And curtly, to boot. "Drift told me he was thinking of confronting Tarn. Try and find out how his power works, how he ticks. I told the idiot it was suicide, but he won't listen. No matter what I say, he just--"

Ambulon shook his head. "Drift's gone off to fight Tarn, and you need to stop him," he insisted, firmly. "You're the only one I feel he'll actually listen to. And I don't care - I don't care - if stopping him means lives will be lost. I'll take that responsibility myself. There are other ways we can fight Tarn, but I need you to... Just stop him from throwing away his life."

"What, no--" Concern tightens Wing's face at Ambulon's next words. Drift being in trouble was...not entirely unusual and the swordmech was often quite capable of getting himself out of said trouble. But with recent events being what they were...

He mimics the medic's gesture, leaning in. What comes next he's not entirely prepared for though.

"He WHAT!?" he nearly shouts, aghast. Wing knew Drift had gone off to face his fear, but not...literally! He schools his tone and volume, waving off the few bar dwellers who's attention was drawn by his outburst. "Are you sure!?"

Wing can barely process this and it shows in his sudden agitation: the angry rustle of his flight panels and the flare of his pinions. He shifts from side-to-side before stopping to cycle a deep vent. "He's gone already?"

"Yes, I'm being very serious," Ambulon insisted. "I tried convincing him otherwise, repeatedly, but nothing. Then he went silent." The angry expression suddenly softened, just a little. "I don't know. I figured, perhaps he realized he was making a stupid decision, went to speak with you. But you're here, and he's not, and..." Ambulon went to clutch his head before dropping his hands again. "I don't know, and maybe I'm completely blowing things out of proportion, but he - "

The frustration knocked him back into silence again. "He has said nothing to you? At all?" Ambulon mumbled. "Maybe if you were to call him, talk some sense into him. I don't know - again, he'll listen to you." [CAST BOYFRIEND KNIGHT MAGIC OR WHATEVER.]

Wing listens, mouth agape, denial roaring through his thoughts even as the true realization was seeping in. It was something Drift might do. If he felt he could make a difference by confronting Tarn, and they did need information....

"No...we, didn't get a chance to talk at length." Not that Wing had any regrets for what they'd done instead, but if anything, things were suddenly making a great deal more sense. "He mentioned wanting to take some time to meditate over it. I knew he was troubled but..." He makes an exasperated noise, hands clenching at the open air before him.

Thankfully Ambulon is used to working under pressure and has a more constructive approach. Wing reaches for his comm then, seeing a new message. "Yes, there's a messa..." His words trail of as he reads. His free hand moves to cover his mouth, a shadow falling over his pinched face as his optics flicker with emotion. The a chilly essence spreads through his EM field, and a choked sound, like a whimper half strangled, slips out as he finishes and grips the bar with both hands. It's all rushing in now, the reality of this, overwhelming him. He can scarcely confirm Ambulon's suspicions beyond an angry shake of his helm. "_...d-dammit."

Ambulon went silent as Wing read through the new message. Wasn't a very good one, judging the white mech's reaction. He picked up bits and pieces, but... Looked away for the more personal clips. Decided to give Wing a moment of privacy to finish the video.

"He's gone to meet Tarn, hasn't he?" he asked, quietly. "You don't need to tell me all of what he said. I caught the gist of it. If he's run after Tarn, you need to stop him. Before it's too late." A hand raised, opened, as if to... pat Wing. A comforting gesture. But--

Ambulon drew his hand back.

"Will you be all right?" he asked, calmly. "You have your weapons, I assume. You may need them. Especially if Drift's all ready found Tarn. In which case..." Right, no. Ambulon sighed. "No more idling. You think you can track him down?"

On one side he knew, he understood Drift's choice. Same as the time Drift had offered to be the one Prism killed when he threatened to detonate the 'bombs' left on his victim's spark chambers. A noble kind of sacrifice for any chance at sparing someone else.

But the rest of him hated it. The part that celebrated life and refused to give it up. The part that loved deeply and never wanted to lose again. And the part that wanted to help but was getting shunted off to the side. Oh, that part, was very, very angry.

The two raged in conflict now, sense trying to override more powerful sentiment and failing slightly.

"Yes he has! I can't--How could he not--ARRG!" His fingers claw at the open air again, his wings nearly unfurling to their full extension as he tried to shed his unrest.

There were two things Wing just couldn't abide by in this. One was Drift not allowing anyone to protect him. Oh, macro chance of that! If Drift got to pull the 'I can't see you hurt' card, so could Wing. And second, he refused to believe this was the only way. Even if it was...there must be a better way to execute it.

Cutting that thought off, he turned back to Ambulon, reaching out to clasp that hand. "I don't know if I'll be alright but I'm going after him regardless. If he's only just left then we should be able to get to him before he's in any real danger." Yes that's right Ambulon, 'we'. "I think if we head towards Vector's that's a good place to start."

He wasn't quite sure why he was surprised by the reaction. Completely warranted, and yet Ambulon was. He quickly settled, however. "I'd diagnose a terrible case of chivalry," he snorted. Little bastard. "So y--" And then, of course, the surprise returned. Only this time for something completely different.

"Me?" Ambulon blinked, pointing to his face. "Are you sure? I mean, maybe you should bring someone who knows how to, well, you know, fight." But, then again. He paused to think, frowning. If Drift was injured, he'd need a doctor. And Ambulon wasn't just about to call up First Aid and ask him to take over from here.

Though-- "Wait." Ambulon did take his arm this time, squeezed it tight. "We need to try and keep calm, all right? I know I'm not the best example to follow, but... You're upset. You've every right to be. However, you have to stay calm. Keep your head cleared. Warriors do that, right? They don't let their emotions dictate their actions or whatever." He swished a hand. "Either way, I'm just as pissed off as you, but..."

Ambulon looked Wing directly in the optics. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid. If Tarn's gotten to Drift, if he's injured him or possibly worse, you won't try to be a hero and fight Tarn." He sighed and released the mech's arm. "But you are a warrior. You know all this. I just don't know you well enough to know for myself."

It's not something people see often, for intense negative emotions Wing tries to quell quickly before they spread and dampen the spirits of others. This was a hard subject to just shove away though.

"Yes I'm certain. I won't ask you to endanger yourself, and if Tarn is in the area then stay clear, but a medic could be handy. If we're lucky and it hasn't come to that yet..." Wing nods in a telling way, "Then you have every right to speak your mind about this whole idea same as I do."

It's coming all in a rush still, a bit frantic, fueled more by heated emotions than pure sense. The grip to his arms brings his focus back, and Ambulon's words remind him of important things. "Yes. Yes you're right."

He shutters his optics, taking a moment to perform three deep cycles through his cooling system, trying to find his center again. Ambulon, you know these mechs better than you realize. "I-I promise...this is just a rescue. If needed. I have no plans to go pede-to-pede with the mech."

A curt nod, "Shall we go then?"

Ambulon nodded. "Right. I'm taking your word for it. Don't make me regret it." Because he was NOT going to put Wing back together if he did, okay.

"All right," he said, "by your lead, then."

One last visit to his quarters--what had been his quarters.

No, Drift. Don't think like that. You will be back. One way or the other, you'll be back. And you'll have done some real good, and be able to help defeat Tarn. So you're not leaving, he told himself, as much as making sure everything is set for your return.

He nods, coding his quarters locked. With one last check of his weapons, his fingers closing over the hilt of the Great Sword for a moment, before he moved down the hall, and on his way.

Wing is making all haste towards Vector's Quadrant. No sight of Drift yet, which he took as a good sign. Thankfully Ambulon is not an overly bulky mech, so giving him a lift was not taxing in the least. Wing wasn't as fast in his root mode, but a distance this short he'd never be able to make use of the upper speeds his alt mode was capable of anyway.

He spied a familiar red and white grounder moving over the last bridge of the temple grounds, relief welling from his spark. He touched down gently at the end of the bridge, settling Ambulon on the ground in front of him. "Pardon..."

Wing squared his shoulders, pinions flaring at the potential challenge, but with a soft compassion tempering the harder lines of concern on his face.

One day Ambulon was going to be completely okay relying on other people to get around. Today wasn't one of those days, but he honestly truly did not care. More important matters to frustrate him, after all.

Speaking of which.

Ambulon muttered something of gratitude or other, still a bit embarrassed, taking a few steps out on the ground. He looked in Drift's direction, then back to Wing. "If he doesn't brake, I'm not throwing myself on him," he snorted. "I hope he's still got a shred of sense in that nonsensical head of his."

There's no way he can avoid them. He could, conceivably, thread the distance between them but he knows that would be an act of cowardice. He doesn't want their last memory of him to be of a coward.

His brakes screech to a halt, rear of his alt sliding to one side from the force of his deceleration, and after a moment, he rises. "Is this where you're going to be guarding Ambulon?" It is, at least, quick thinking.

"I will if I have to." He gives Ambulon a reassuring glance. "But I don't think it'll be necessary."

He watches Drift's approach, calmly standing his ground as the speedster screeches to a halt. Drift's words from the message ring in Wing's mind. It's hard, in light of that, to be angry. But the idea of possibly losing Drift needlessly to this stirs him again.

"No. You know that's not why we're here," he replies. A sigh as he steels himself. "Please Drift...don't do this. We need you right now. Alive. Here, with us."

Ambulon stepped forward, expression stern but lacking any real anger. "I told you I'd alert Wing if you tried this," he said. "I gave you fair warning."

He continued: "We need to regroup. We need to unite. We need to fight and neutralize Tarn together. We'll find the information you're so willing to throw your life away to through teamwork. Without sacrifice." Ambulon sighed. "You want to protect people; I'm the same. I'm a doctor, as you very well know. And... I know sometimes one needs to make very hard, questionable decisions. But if there's a way to go about collecting this information without you dying, we're going to try it first. And if nothing else works..." He paused a moment. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there."

"You're worried Tarn will kill before we find the answers. I understand. But this is not how we'll stop that from happening." He glanced back to Wing for a moment, then to Drift again. "And if you still refuse to listen to reason, then we'll have to force you to turn back." It wasn't exactly a threat coming from Ambulon, but he was sure Drift would hesitate to take on Wing.

He deflates at Wing's words, optics lidding for a moment. He'd thought recording the message was hard: this was harder.

"You don't understand. I'm worse than useless right now, if people think they have to protect me. I'm a liability." Which he's never been in his life before. "Look. I'm not afraid. The worst he can do is kill me. And I'll come back from that. What I can't handle--what's worse than that--is this. Anticipation, fear. The knowledge that at any moment it could all end."

"I'm crossing that bridge now, Ambulon. Someone has to do something. We can't attack him unless we know his weaknesses. We knew Overlord's and look how well that went?"

He turns back to Wing, shaking his head. "Please. Let me do this. I have to."

If Drift deflated at Wing's words, the exact reverse is true of Wing at his reply. Wing never did take well to Drift ever calling himself useless or expendable and now is no exception. His pinions flick with irritation as he steps forward. "You say that like you can do nothing to protect the others who also need it. And not just from Tarn. We're all in danger from the unglyphed ones here. Everyone needs protection. Does that make us all liabilities too? Why can't you accept protection or charity from others?"

"'The worst he can do is kill you'?" It sounds absurd to Wing, and maybe there's a hint of bitter pain in his tone. "Drift, the Firstforged are the reason people come back and they've said they can't always do it. Coming back isn't a certainty! I can't stand here and let you treat your life like currency to be spent, and with so little value at that!" He has to pause and cycle a deep vent because the words, the moment, along with his composure, almost escape him. So many of his passions run deep in this, martialing them all takes a visible effort.

"Ambulon is right. Maybe we can use part of this plan somehow but we need to be smarter about it and we need to work together." Wing's arms cross over his chassis, the red blades of his forearms jutting out like bars before the grounder's path. "You know me Drift. You know I can accept when sacrifices are necessary. Well I'm not convinced yet and I'm not moving until that happens."

"You're a liability!?" Ambulon figured he had been doing pretty good containing most of his frustration up until this point. "What does that mean!? You and I - we're in the same situation. We're both on his list. So, then, how about we reverse our roles?" He glowered. "I'll go instead. It makes more sense, right? I'm the medic - If exposed to whatever it is that gives him his power, surely I'd have a better understanding of it than you. And while I wouldn't last nearly as long as you would, they need warriors here."

Ambulon snapped, pointed at Drift, "You can tell me I'm needed because I'm a doctor, but so what? There's other medics here who can take care of you and the others. Just like there's loads of soldiers and warriors here just like yourself; what would it matter if we lost one? So what would it matter if one medic was lost? Do you see what I'm trying to say here?" He threw up his arms. "And none of this scrap about 'I'll come back to life'! That is not an excuse - that is not even okay on any level!"

The medic slapped his hands over his spark. "We're all scared here. We're all afraid. Point is, you're not alone. You're no coward or liability. You may need protecting, and there's nothing wrong with that. But we have to work together and figure something out that will not risk your life or anyone else's. And we will. Otherwise..."

Ambulon folded his arms. "Maybe I'll have Wing here take you back and... catch up with you both later."

[If you catch his... well.]

This? This was worse than anything Tarn could do to him: Wing angry at him, berating him. No physical pain could be worse than this. "Because I can't, all right? I'm not charity. I'm not weak."

"Wing. I'll come back. It sounds like you don't believe me. Like you don't have faith." His ventilations are rough, agitated. "So, that's how it is. You get to decide to lay your life down for some...complete waste of a spark," he slams his palm on his chestplate, covering the Autobot insigia. "But I can't lay down my life for those who mean everything to me?"

It's ridiculous. Really. Isn't it?

"I'm not afraid!" Except of this confrontation. So, yes, he might look a little alarmed now. "Ambulon. You know Tarn. You know what we're up against. Someone has to do something. And you--you've probably seen his work. If anyone could repair a mech after Tarn's done with him, it's you." Or First Aid, but he really doesn't want the nurse to deal with that.

"No one said you were, anyone can accept such things Drift! You know, you're constantly trying to keep me safe. Do I take it as a sign that I'm weak? No. I take as a sign that you care." Unless he's wrong and has it backwards? Better correct him if so, Drift.

Oh the faith card. That's just unfair. Wing would normally play the better part of valor in an argument like this but his emotional attachments are just a little too strong. A deadpan stare: "You're the one who keeps doubting the Firstforged, and they're the ones that have to snatch you back from death." Nevermind that Wing likely has more faith in Vector than anyone here. That...had nothing to do with this argument. Besides, Vector was still convalescing. Probably.

Oh. He did NOT just... "WASTE OF SPARK!?" Here's an angry jet in your face Drift. You know how to push all of Wing's buttons apparently. "By Solomus! If you cared about your own life half as much as you cared about me--! If you're going to lay down your life Drift it better damn well mean something. And I mean something beyond equalizing a moral debt or obligation!" Maybe he's gone a touch too far, but love makes one a little crazy, and Wing especially has always felt things very acutely.

He flashes a look back at Ambulon for a moment, lest the medic get any ideas based off his very own points. "Listen, no one is going to go die just to get this information--justified or not!--because that probably won't even work. The others that I know of who did return from the dead had no memory of events prior to their death." He looks back to Drift. "If Tarns kills you with his power and you do return from the dead, how does it help us if you lose your memory of it?"

"And what about the people you leave behind, Drift?" Ambulon added. "What about your friends? What about Vandal?" He glowered. "What about the people left to suffer because of your damned martyr complex? The people you're trying to protect - you can help them by staying alive and working with the rest of us."

Ambulon went to intervene, to stop things from getting physical. But... He stayed put, crossed his arms. No. Not right now. Though he wanted to slug Drift's fool head in, he restrained himself as well.

"I'm not going anywhere. Trust me," he said a moment later, a short distance behind Wing. "I never intended to."

He glanced up at Drift - torn between anger and even pity. There was so much he wanted to say. Drift's words - they had stung more than Ambulon should have let them. He knew it was nothing personal. Yet... He looked to Wing again. "That's why you're here," he mumbled, then fell silent.

This was getting personal now, and Ambulon knew better than to involve himself. Unless one of them decided to break out into a fight, in which case, he'd quite quickly step in to mediate.

For now, however, he chose to watch from the sidelines.

"No, Wing! It's...it's different." Don't ask him how, but it's different. His hands squeezed together, tense and nervous.

He flinched as Wing confronted him. His voice shook. "Wing. What better cause--what did you teach me, if not to lay down my life to protect others?" It was less a challenge than a question--what did he get wrong?

"Vandal's...," he couldn't bring himself to say it. Not right now. "I let her down. I should have been better, done better." And it was only a matter of time before he let Wing down, he figured.

"It won't matter what I remember. I don't have to. Everyone would see it." Oops, yeah, did he forget to mention that part? Drift wanted the whole thing broadcast on the Link. For educational purposes. "Look. I have to do something."

Wing's pinions flick and the white helm tilts as if in challenge. He really would like to know how it's different, but he knows there's no answer forthcoming.

It's hard for Wing to hold onto his ire though, especially when it's fueled so fiercely by love and causing Drift obvious distress. He sighs as he steps forward, reaching out to hopefully settle his hands on Drift's shoulders, his mouth set in a determined line but his brow furrowing under his helm.

"I did. And maybe I made it look too easy. But understand that the heart of the notion is to value all life. That includes your own. You can save more people alive than you can dead. Sacrifice is the last resort, it's why we don't draw our Great Swords in every battle."

He shakes his head vigorously in outright refusal. "No, she's not. Not til...we find a body or she wakes up in a temple." If only they could ask Vector...he would know if one of his Marked had passed, wouldn't he? "If that's the case, then we both should have."

Drift's next words provoke a strangled noise. "You'd--you'd broadcast it!?" Wing's imagination is a little too ready and available with imagery to go with that. If he could go pale he would, but as it is his field goes cold and something turns in his tanks. "What if he disrupted the feed!?"

"It's different. It just...is." He knows that's a tension between them. "Because you're, well, you. And I'm...," he shrugged.

"Besides. You're important here. This place needs far more of your influence than mine." His hands close over Wing's wrists--not to remove, just to hold them, to feel some contact. Wing might feel the slight tremble in his frame.

"No, Wing. I fought with her. I made her uncomfortable. If we hadn't argued, she would have commed when she needed help." There, he said that.

The hands clutch on Wing at the jet's next words, afraid to feel the hands on his shoulders pulling away. "Wing. It would work. Everyone would see it. Everyone would know how he works, and what to avoid. And he wouldn't turn it off. He's...Tarn. He'd probably find it 'fun' to have an audience. It's how he creates fear."

"...someone I care about very much," he finishes. Not that it's relevant. Except maybe it is.

"You're right, I suppose I am. I'm heavily involved here, I have a lot of responsibilities. It's a lot to handle Drift. They need me..." A squeeze to those shoulders, thumbs brushing the sides of Drift's neck. "And I need you."

He means it, and in more than just a companionship sort of way.

"Drift, these things happen. She would have commed if she could have, but she didn't comm anyone. Me, Perceptor, none of us got messages." See Drift, it's not just you.

Wing just has to stare for a moment, then shake his helm as if trying to banish the images. "But Drift, aren't we then doing his work for him? Publicly broadcasting torture? It'd strike fear into anyone who say it and turn the Link into an even greater weapon for Tarn to use."

"Wing. You don't need me. You knew me for what? A few weeks, a long time ago." It's the opposite that's true: Drift needs Wing, as his anchor, his compass.

"We just...we should have found something by now. I'm botching the search." He shakes his head: more proof that Ultra Magnus is right. "People don't want to talk to me."

That's not that important right now: he's trying to make everything right. He's lost Vandal: he wants--desperately--to save someone.

"But knowing the worst is the best remedy to fear. He's always used mystery as a weapon, why no one knows anything in the first place." He still thinks like a Decepticon at times: he can't really imagine how upsetting it would be to mechs used to millions of years of war. And deeper, maybe, if he did this, he could finally clear the slate.

Wing twitches back, and then he does pull his hands away, closing them over his chest protectively. "Well, you...certainly dismissed that easily. I'd tell you how exactly, but you'd only tell me how I'm wrong, yes?" His gold optics shutter over some emotion, shoving it from the fore with some effort before looking back to Drift. "Why is it so hard for you to accept that you're important to others Drift? Is it to make running off and doing things like this easier?"

He shakes his head. "Not just you Drift. It's the police force's job, why they aren't more involved I don't know." If anything Wing feels remiss in this. He was on the law committee, wasn't there more he could do?

"Maybe for those with enough fortitude. There's plenty of civilians here Drift." He looses a heavy sigh. He's not defeated, but this feels like losing regardless. "Even if this is the only way, there's a better way to do it. Plan a method of extraction before he actually kills you, create a secure feed that he can't disrupt and broadcasts on a narrow band... Maybe even deal with him somehow legally so you're not just proving Ultra Magnus right."

It's hard to hide the slight hitch in his ventilations, tight and nervous. This frightens him more than Tarn: losing the thing that matters most to him in the world...through his own fault.

One hand reaches, as the jet's optics close, but he pulls back, afraid to touch, afraid it's unwelcome, his hand hovering almost brushing Wing's cheek. "...Wing." He couldn't think of what else to say for a long moment. "Wing. When...the only other time I've ever been important to anyone, it was Megatron. And that was only for what I could do, not who I was." Megatron had sent Lockdown to find him, because he wanted his soldier back, nothing more.

"Tarn isn't the police force's job. Not yet. All he's done is threaten and that's not a crime."

He turns his face away. He has no answer to that. Any of it. It seemed so...sensible, when he'd though of it, the best way to get the information seen by as many minds as possible, as many mechs capable of figuring out how Tarn worked.

"I was...going to..._{with Saber}." See? He had a plan. Sort of.

"Wing. Ultra Magnus got upset last time because things happened and I didn't do anything. I'm doing something. It's the only thing I can do."

Part of him regrets saying it, but it is the truth as he understands it. He wants so much to give: love, trust, affection, praise; it's difficult when his offerings are rejected or invalidated. In a sense maybe he's partially at fault though. If Drift doesn't understand what Wing sees in him, maybe he just needs to work harder at convincing him. Drift's ability to accept it didn't make it any less true, this he had to remember.

Even though the edges of discomfort are clear on his face, he still turns into Drift's hand, craving touch, contact, just as much. "New things to get used to I guess..." His tone begs Drift to please, try.

"No, but Vandal's disappearance is. We need more people on it."

"Saber? Is that enough to give a good chance of success?" He sighs again. "There's something to be said for baiting him into action, out into the open, but let's work together Drift. There are a lot of minds we can put of this. Ultra Magnus agrees with your desire to be proactive, but if we strike first it makes things difficult. He's worried about you confronting Tarn. I...thought he was wrong at the time..."

His head tilts and he cycles and vent, his flight panels shifting uncomfortably.

"Drift, there's something else..... Remember when I had those dreams about Prism's attack on you? And I...sensed some of what was happening during Overlord's attack on Perceptor..." He feels oddly guilty about this and doesn't know why. "I. Think I figured out what's happening."

He wishes he didn't have to do this, that he could just forget all his responsibilities, and wrap himself around Wing forever. He lets his thumb stroke over Wing's cheek, his optics coruscating with emotion.

"We do. We need to find her. There has to be something. But I can't even do that with...Tarn."

"Saber's offered, and, well, she's...she won't be upset. When the worst happens. She should also be safe from him." Things he can't say about Wing. He gives a wry smile. "I don't think 'worried' is the word Ultra Magnus would use."

"What? What's happening?"

In truth Wing wishes the same, and maybe there's time for stolen moments, but he also knows that seeing to their duties is what affords them some peace in which to enjoy each other. He steps closer, a bar before Drift's path in a different way, his hand moving to cover Drift's over his cheek.

"We'll find a way Drift. You can't help her at all if Tarn captures you. Who knows how long he might..." Wing cuts it off then, because he's not willing to entertain the notion.

It's even doubly important, given what he has to tell Drift next.

"I think... it's the Sword. Yours. And the remnants of my old bond. There's..._{a piece of me in there}...along with other former bearers." Or perhaps more than a piece, but Wing didn't know. Nothing about this was 'usual' and their knowledge of the Great Swords was far from complete. It's eerie to think about, for him. "It's linked us, but only one way."

"It's not an 'if' with Tarn, unless we stop him." He shrugs. No one's got a plan for that, either.

He blinks, trying to take in what Wing's telling him and despite the warm hand over his, he feels a sudden chill. "What? Why didn't you tell me this sooner?" He's playing out all the ways this could be awful.

He sighs, the noise rife with malcontent. His flights panels shift uncomfortably. There's so much in this that creates conflict in him. Legal issues he's trying to hard to uphold even if he only partially believes them, the personal reasons for doing so which further cloud the issue.

And of course, the knowledge that if he gives in because he values and respects choice, that he's sending a loved one to die, which doesn't feel like love at all, just cowardly surrender.

He's never before had to choose between love and the preservation of life. And he never wants to again.

"I still don't understand why we can try and come at this as a team. Make a plan. Increase the chances of success." He tucks his flight panels to keep them from rattling. "You seem more focused on the doing of this than the success of it."

Wing isn't willing to let go, if anything he grips Drift's hand more firmly. His head ducks. "I only just figured it out, this past week. With Jetfire's help, when we were going over my cockpit reconfiguration." He looks up, pleadingly, because he feels like it's an invasion of a sort, that this exists without Drift's consent. "I'm sorry."

"Because it's not your problem. It's mine, and Ambulon's. No one else should get involved."

Drift's tired of arguing, tired of being challenged. "Someone has to do something. Do you think I should just cower in fear and wait for someone else to do something?"

He frowns. "How bad is it? How much do you know?" How much privacy doesn't he have anymore?

Ambulon had been leaning nearby, arms folded, listening somewhat closely. Didn't really want to invade their privacy, buuut. "You just admitted it's a shared problem!" He was suddenly standing between the two lovebirds, jabbing a finger against Drift's chest. "'It's mine, and Ambulon's'. If that's the case, why aren't we working together? Why do you have to assume responsibility of the entire situation? You're hardly being fair, and you're not listening to reason, otherwise you'd realize what you're about to do is completely stupid!"

He's about to say something when Ambulon interjects. It's just as well because he's at a loss. He doesn't think confronting Tarn like this will solve the problem, but Drift clearly has no desire to work with him or anyone else on an alternative.

No matter what Wing chooses to do here, he feels like he's doing Drift some kind of wrong, and the lines between duty and personal feelings are starting to blur.

He shifts back, turning partially away, a slight dip to his helm as he fixates on some point in the distance. "Strong emotion or pain seems to be the only thing that comes through strong. I...I think I can block it out, close it off, with practice."

"Because you wouldn't work with me. None of you will. We need to know how Tarn works if we are thinking we can ever fight him. But no one's doing anything." He feels like a broken record, and the only one trying to do anything but hide.

Stupid. Really. He glowers at Ambulon, and then at Wing, who doesn't seem to be disagreeing with that assessment.

"Then," he says, trying to master his emotion, "I'll take it off. Leave it here." He reaches behind him, hand closing over the Great Sword's hilt.

Wing had had a feeling his discovery of the link was not going to go over well, but this, well, this was worse than he anticipated. The timing that forced it certainly did not help. He's realizing now that he has a bond with Drift that he's feeling ashamed and remorseful of, leaving him sick and disconcerted. Part of him wants desperately to flee, to put some distance between then, because it's the only recompense we can offer right now.

But the other part is frustrated beyond all means with the situation at hand. He sidesteps Ambulon and turns to Drift, an open hand thrust into the air between them, both pleading and accusing.

"No one's doing anything because you haven't given us a chance to! I gave you plenty of more constructive ways to come at this tactic and you shrugged them all off!" He's fraying around the edges now, voice high and strained with a collision of anger and fear. "Why not ask Perceptor what he thinks? He's analytically minded, surely he can run all the variables and tell you the chances of success better than I. Or why not Vector, the one who has to fetch you back if--WHEN--you die. Except, no wait, you don't trust him and he's probably still lying unconscious in a medbay somewhere right now!'

The gold optics flicker with a tangle of emotion, searching Drift's face as he pants softly through his vents. When Drift reaches for the Great Sword, Wing almost stops him. But no.

"You don't want me that close, fine. But do you even know how much you're sacrificing if you do this? And for what? Information you can't even guarantee we'll get?"

"Because you don't know Tarn. And Perceptor--" His voice crackles. "It's not an option. All right?"

The pile of accusations is too much. He tears the Great Sword from its bracket, wincing as he snaps one of the bracer hooks from the force of it. He thrusts it at Wing. "Take it, then. If all it is is some new way to control me, tell me you know better than I do, then I--I don't want it."

"If you cared about me half as much as you say you do, you'd give me some respect for making my own decisions instead of using the fact that you care as a way to manipulate me." He's shaking, the words pouring out of him, with that sense that he knows he's going to regret them, but he can't stop them even so.

Wing hears that snap and flinches, a small bit of sympathy pain, until Drift starts speaking again.

"To control you--!?" He looks shocked, optics darting between Drift and the hand holding out the sword, the weapon suddenly a terrible omen, not just a symbol of his greatest failure but a sign of Drift's rejection.

With Drift's last strident words he's twitching back, both hurt and appalled. His mouthplates work but the sounds are a jumbled and staticky sputter at first. "M-Manipulate you! Drift, I... What am I supposed to do?" he begs helplessly, "there's no right choice for me here!"

"Either I keep your respect and send you to die or I lose your respect and keep you safe!" The words come out high strung, desperate and frustrated, until he seems to cave, as if realizing there have been too many casualties in this battle. "...or am I too late for that already? Do I even have your respect still?"

Because it does feel selfish. Maybe this was never meant to be. Maybe sacrifice is what binds, defines, and ends them again. Is that their fate?

He shakes, visibly, a shadow falling over his face as he struggles for control. It's not lost to him, the irony, that the emotional devastation of Drift's loss is acceptable but the second hand physical torture is not. Wing will feel pain regardless, but without the sword, he can be of no comfort either. And there's pain here, even now, before the thing has even begun. In a way, this is worse torture. Harder to bear than any physical suffering. And beyond that, harder to repair.

But how much of this is concern for Wing's suffering and how much is guilt for being the cause of it?

He shudders, near violently, biting back words, the cutting kind, because there's enough pain in this already. He has to do something decisive, and soon, or this was going to end more terribly than it began. He has a notion now, what it should be...

"Maybe it's not about you. Maybe it's about me. Maybe it's about something bigger than me."

He frowns. "What I don't understand is that it's all right for you to sacrifice yourself, for me, for your city, but I can't do the same. How is that not hypocrisy? How is that even sense?"

He's right, because it should be, but things keep getting clouded in this, and Wing is having obvious trouble reconciling all of the warring emotions and beliefs within.

But he knows one thing for certain.

"Drift." His voice is quiet, tired now, but no less sure. "I never said you couldn't. I just want a chance to make sure it's worth it. I don't want you giving up your life for a maybe."

"You argued with Dai Atlas to the bitter end, not willing to give up until all your options were exhausted."

Wing raises a hand to place it over Drift's, on the Great Sword's hilt, the contact tingling strangely in his palm as he presses it back towards Drift's chest. His tone hardens slightly, still weary, but like a mech offering up his last defense.

"Give me two days. Megatron can afford us that much, no one will be hurt in that time. Two days to improve this, make the plan more solid, to make your chances better." He softens, the words imploring as they slip past his lipplates, "Please Drift. Your life is worth everything to me. Let me make it so we gain everything we can."

Drift wants to pull away from the touch on his hand, but he finds himself, instead, clamping his other hand over Wing's, locking their hands together over the Great Sword's hilt.

"Two days. After that, I handle this myself." He hates that he's giving in, but he knows he can't refuse Wing.

He wishes things were clear cut and easy like in storybooks. But Wing knows better, even if there was a time long ago that he didn't, much.

He was too close to giving up and walking away, something without a doubt that he'd regret. So when he's pulled closer--that physical acceptance far more than the verbal--is welcome beyond words. Some of the tightness over his aching spark loosens, emotion moving over his face with a strange relief.

A solemn nod.

"If I can't in two days... Then regardless, you can go to him. I won't stop you." The pinch of worry still creases his face, but his words are deeply earnest. "I'll help you, however I can."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

stripping away fear

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LOLZ horrible foreshadowing /trollface

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Wing will check his comm for Drift's message next tag.

( ・ω・)b

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MEANWHILE back at Vector's.....

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shame on you for that pun, ambules.

/kicks you for that pun

>kicks - ohohohoho

/drowns under all the yelling.

/throws you a life preserver?

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Let me know if I'm getting this right the way we discussed!

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God I'm sorry TEAL DEER META /faceinhands

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