TITLE:
Ripples in a Pond
Based on events in Broken
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: PG13
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned
by
people with a lot more money :)
Author’s Voice of Warning (aka Author’s Note):
The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy
those
thingies are....
FEEDBACK: Loved
Beta: okami_myrrhibis
Energy coursed through him, tearing him apart. He was flung through an
endless
tunnel, leaving a part of him behind; leaving his body, his only
connection
with life. He screamed, trying to fight, but he couldn't. He was thrown
into a
pool of blackness, blue lightning exploding around him.
He brushed against something, something strange and alien, but also the
only connection
with reality. He tried to reach out for it, but it brushed past,
hurtling away
from him. Desperately he called, crying for help, feeling his life
force
dwindling.
Panic gripped him in a tight fist.
He screamed again, this time in terror.
oooo oooo oooo oooo oooo
Jazz was ripped out of recharge with a force that left him stunned and
disoriented. His mind was awhirl with images he had had only fleeting
recollections of before. His circuits were shaking with the remembrance
of the
nightmare and he was unable to move, gripped by the sheer terror from
those
unknown memories.
Echoes from the scarred wounds where his revival
had left
deep holes in his memory. Usually he only stumbled upon them
when he
tried to recall an event that was gone, beyond recovery, only a shadow
left
behind. A memory shadow. Now the shadows
had risen,
had bled echoes of what had once been into his waking mind.
Jazz shivered.
The stress of nearly losing Barricade had taken its toll.
After some time the terror faded. His pump quieted down and his systems
evened
out.
Damn! He thought angrily. I’m past this! I’m no rookie! I
handled
this!
Apparently he hadn’t.
Jazz left the recharge chamber, aimlessly walking through the base. He
ended up
outside, drawn along the spark-bond to where he suspected Barricade was.
oooo oooo oooo oooo oooo
Barricade wasn’t a mech one usually connected with deep, insightful
contemplations of life and his place in the universe. He knew his place
within
the alliance between him and the Autobots,
he knew
what connected him to several individuals. He knew how to handle
himself, he
was well aware of his strength and powers.
He had never died before. He had never been damaged so badly that it
had been a
miracle he had survived.
Because he shouldn’t have been able to survive.
This
had been his death.
He had also never had human memories and emotional bursts before. Now
he had
them; Sam Witwicky’s. It hadn’t been the human’s fault. He had simply
tried to
save Barricade. That it had left traces – quite pronounced traces – had
been an
accident.
In a way it helped the mech with understanding the technopath, as well
as some
of the humans associated with him, even if it was only a tiny trickle
here or
there. Another Decepticon would call him impure, tainted, not worthy of
being a
Cybertronian, much less a Decepticon.
Barricade had slowly but surely lost his identity within that
particular
faction over the past several years on this planet. Ever
since
Watching the clear night sky with its many stars, its vast infinities,
Barricade had a moment of complete loneliness. He was nothing but a
small spark
in this vastness, and he had nearly been extinguished. His mind was
wandering
through this infinity, but it always encountered one obstacle on every
way he
took.
He was floating in a region between light and darkness. Everything
around
him was a murky grey, now and then interrupted by a flash of wildly
swirling
colors. There was no pain, no sensation at all, except for being
watched. He
turned to see who was here with him, but he found he couldn't. He was
unable to
move, paralyzed. A tiny spark of panic ignited deep inside of him,
bringing
memories of distant events. He couldn't grab those memories and they
brushed
past without ever giving him a chance to keep them
And then he saw it, a tiny spark of white
light in the
middle of the blackness. It pulsed weakly, struggling to live. Without
conscious thought he reached out for the spark and to his amazement he
changed
course to intercept it. The spark flickered badly.
He touched it.
Sensation and awareness came back to him so fast that it was a real
shock. His
nerves flared with pain, agonizing white-hot pain that seemed to go on
and on.
He flinched as those memories came back with a force that threatened to
engulf
him wholly. Why was he so emotionally involved in this? He had been
through
worse – but he had never died. He had seen death and destruction, he
had killed
and destroyed, but nothing had ever come this close to extinguishing
his spark.
A spark that was bonded to another.
A bond that was by now so close and tight and inseparable, Barricade
couldn’t
imagine leaving Jazz again, to fight on the opposite side.
Something touched him quizzically and he turned to face his bonded.
Jazz looked
and felt as upset as he was and he wordlessly let the Autobot come
closer. Blue
optics burned with the inner turmoil and Barricade reacted. He knew he
had
spent too much time among humans as he embraced the other mech, as he
let armor
settle against armor. But maybe this was good. Maybe adopting new ways
in
expressing their bond was just what was needed. Jazz loved humanity,
all their
cultures and languages and art and music and their internet. He was at
ease
with the human way, and Barricade was learning it in little doses. Sam
was a
major contributor. His memory shadows helped, though they were a bother
sometimes,
too. To the point where he wanted to simply erase his processor. Well,
not that
badly, but human intercourse was… disturbing.
There was no hesitation in letting Jazz in and Jazz hummed in need and
comfort
in one. Their sparks melted together, their physical forms embracing,
and Jazz
dug his fingers as tightly into Barricade’s armor as Barricade’s claws
held on
to him.
::We’ll get through this:: Jazz promised.
Barricade sent his agreement.
::Look at us:: the Autobot joked weakly. ::Messed up::
::Survivors:: Barricade rumbled.
He wanted to live. This was what he wanted to live for. No alliance
meant
anything to him. Decepticons, Autobots… whatever faction, he didn’t
care. Jazz
was important.
oooo oooo oooo oooo oooo
Barricade wasn’t sure when he had started his ‘job’, but it had become
something of a routine to listen in to the police radio. He doubted his
disguise was influencing him, but he was too bored most of the time to
do much
else but sit and watch the humans around him. They had a degree of
respect for
police vehicles, though not all were friendly. Some were outright
hostile,
though no one had attacked him yet.
Over time he started to follow the local police activity and he
sometimes aided
in the apprehension of a fleeing vehicle or pedestrian. At first it had
been
almost unconscious. After listening in to a call about a robbery he had
detected the fleeing suspect. He had rolled to the end of the street
the man
had to cross and surprised the human by sliding almost noiselessly onto
the
street. The man went sailing over his hood and landed on the street.
Barricade simply drove off into the traffic.
From then on he became part of law enforcement – in a very secret kind
of way.
Jazz teased him mercilessly about it, but there was also an underlying
pride. Barricade
snorted. He didn’t need anyone’s appreciation and he didn’t need Jazz
to be
proud of him.
But a tiny part of him felt good.
He usually kicked it into the dark recesses of his mind.
oooo oooo oooo oooo oooo
If anyone noticed the changed decals in the days to come, no one
commented on
it. Sam only looked at him with a knowing smile and gave the
black-and-white
mech a nod. Ironhide’s long, hard look had Barricade give him a
challenging one
in return, but nothing came of it. Optimus Prime appeared surprised,
but he
didn’t call Barricade on it either.
The Mustang went on his routine patrols, still bearing the number 643,
still
without specific state or city markings for the police, but now his
motto read
something else.
“And it only took you how long?” Jazz remarked as they drove toward
Barricade simply rumbled something that had the Solstice send amusement
over
their bond.
‘To shield and protect’ could be read on his sides.