TFA: OS: Re-Sparked, Chapter 3

Re-Sparked
by Tavalya Ra

Summary: In the aftermath of the space bridge's collapse, Optimus Prime navigates his crew through jarring revelations, changing relationships, and the unexpected assignment of another team member. Meanwhile, two old threats prepare to return with new plans: Megatron, who has teamed up with Starscream's intelligent and dangerous female clone, and Starscream himself, who is slowly merging with the AllSpark. This is just the prelude. AU: Season Three never happened and doesn't apply.

Rating: R for violence and sex

Warnings: Slash, sex, violence, and bad computer metaphors. Spoilers for the first two seasons of "Transformers Animated". Future installments in the series will have MPreg.

Disclaimer: "Transformers Animated" is owned by Hasbro, who probably doesn't care what I do as long as I keep buying their toys, and by Cartoon Network. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

Chapter Three: Dawning in Detroit

From certain angles Bulkhead's overhead flaps looked to Prowl like a crane's wings swooping downward. An odd and perhaps ill-fitting comparison, he acknowledged. Bulkhead would assuredly be flightless even if most Autobots weren't already ground vehicles. It simply struck him that there was an aspect of grace to Bulkhead's otherwise cumbersome form. He watched the bot approach a cargo ship with the Sumdac Systems logo painted on the side and wondered why everyone, self included, so often overlooked Bulkhead's finer details.

Bulkhead leaned over and began unwinding the chain that tethered the ship to the dock. Approaching, Prowl questioned, "Express tug to Dinobot Island?"

The larger bot froze, then slowly righted himself. Morosely, he responded, "So, you decided to follow me. Or did Prime send you to follow me?"

"Neither. I know you said you wanted to be alone, but I thought you might like being alone together."

Sighing, Bulkhead began, "I don't know…"

"As stated, I didn't follow you. I suspected I would find you here. Dinobot Island is oddly tranquil in its wildness- I find it a refuge from the noise and hustle of the city. You and I are alike in that."

A moment's pause- time enough for a single cricket's chirp- then Bulkhead turned. An indefinable glimmer showed in his optics.

"Alright."

They did not get on the boat. To the island and back was too far a journey before sunrise; Prowl suggested the park, which was quiet at this hour. The gawking crowds that initially had driven him away from Detroit's tamed patch of greenery were gone; the few evening strollers glanced at them in surprise but respected their peace. They stopped at a grassy square surrounded by trees. At the level of a human's eyes, the leafy foliage obscured any view of the towering buildings which surrounded the park, creating the illusion of displacement from the city. Prowl could experience this effect if he squatted and focused his optics downward, but Bulkhead probably saw the tops of the skyscrapers just above the forestry. Perhaps they should have gone to Dinobot Island after all, Prowl thought guiltily, until he glanced over at his friend and noted a lessening of the anxiety in his eyes.

The sound of traffic's flow- the whirrs, mild screeches, and beeps- audible from their position was achingly reminiscent of the noise of Cybertron. Yet Prowl could hear, too, the exotic chirps and warbles of the park's small wild inhabitants. The near was distant and vice versa: Cybertron familiar light years away, nature outlandish and alien right at his servo. He allowed his audio sensors to record the mingled sounds passively, refraining from separating and identifying them in his processor- he heard and did not evaluate. He remained still and simply was. In this, in being, he was centered.

"Tell me what you're thinking. I'm here to listen."

Bulkhead's response was quick and certain, suggesting he had spent the proceeding cycles of calm articulating his answer. "I feel more than like I messed up. I feel like nobody gives me a chance to do anything but mess up. I'm not asking for praise or anything. I just want to do what I do without everyone assuming I can't before I even try."

We all have our own manner of going about the business of existence. We all assume our way is best. And when someone does not hold this assumption about himself, when someone is curious, we assume they are confused or stupid and require guidance… "I'm sorry."

"Huh? Why? You and Sari are usually the ones who think I can."

"I'm sorry for the trees," Prowl clarified. "I suggested you add trees to your painting and I shouldn't have. It was your vision, not mine."

"It's okay," Bulkhead said. Suddenly he smiled. "Just means I know what to make you for your construction day!"

Prowl smiled back. "You're very talented. I shouldn't have been so surprised when Blurr told us you're an expert at space bridges. I already knew you're good with them."

"I didn't know I was an expert either, just that I scored high on all the aptitude tests," confessed Bulkhead. His tone became somber. "Bumblebee and Prime, they acted like it's impossible I could be good at it- at the one thing I really know I know. Or that me knowing it was a bad thing. And I wonder if they're right. It's my fault we needed Omega Supreme-"

"No!" His response was immediate. He laid his servo over Bulkhead's. "You did what you had to. What you could do. Bumblebee is angry and it's easier to deal with anger if one has something external to blame. If not you, he would be ranting at another one of us. Prime… he's a product of the academy…"

"Prime treats me okay, but I know he doesn't think much of me. You heard him, he said he didn't understand how I could be an expert."

"Like Bumblebee, he was just venting his frustration. Don't take to spark what he said. It was wrong of him."

"They make me feel so useless sometimes. It's what they think. Just because…" Bulkhead raised his hands and pinched his large digits together. "I am what I am. I'm big and I'm clunky, but that's how I was constructed. That's not who I am. That's what I like about art. The canvas doesn't argue with me. It doesn't say I can't. It lets me do and if I mess up, it doesn't say it knew all along I would."

How incisive- and completely spontaneous and unconscious. Prowl admired, even envied that: how Bulkhead had grown to know himself without needing to be aware of it. Prowl put such effort into being- the others didn't know how deliberate he was, of that he was certain. He kept hold of himself because he knew himself. When he lost his restraint, he became reckless and prideful. But this discussion was about Bulkhead, not him.

"We're learning. We came to this planet full of misconceptions about ourselves, about each other. At first, I didn't want to listen to anyone. I didn't see why I needed anyone. Other bots aren't dependable and the only one you can trust is the only one you should need to trust," he said. "That philosophy almost took me offline. But you and Bumblebee, Ratchet, Prime… you saved me. The value of teammates- of friends- is something Earth taught me very quickly. Give Prime and Bumblebee time. In their sparks they trust you, but habits are hard to debug. And don't feel lonely. If you need me, I'll be beside you."

Bulkhead gave Prowl a timid look, cautious and overcome. "You mean that?"

"I do." He'd been casual in his relationship with Bulkhead before, but he felt strongly that he wanted to change that- that Bulkhead deserved a friend who could be steadfast.

"Maybe you're right. Bumblebee's just like this. And Prime really cares about us. I think you are right." With a nod and slightly crooked smile, he concluded, "Thanks for talking to me."

You're welcome, was the standard response and what Prowl intended to say. Yet from his speaker came, "You're so able to forgive. I remember once thinking I could teach you so much. Now, I think you have a lot you could teach me."

At that Bulkhead burst into a sudden guffaw. "You? You're kidding. What could I teach you?"

"How to be kind for a start."

"You're not mean! Well, Bumblebee thinks you are, but he doesn't get bots that aren't like him. Hey, you're always looking out for us, giving really good advice."

"That's not the same…" Prowl began and stopped. Why was he talking about this? "I am concerned with fixing problems when they affect me. My team affects me. It's that simple."

"You're being modest. We all look up to you. Well, I do." Bulkhead paused and then added, "Metaphorically."

Stop now. Before you ruin this, he ordered himself. Looking into Bulkhead's optics, he said, "We don't talk enough. We should change that. I value your friendship."

"Yeah, yours, too."

* * *

Morning touched Detroit's sky, their view of the rising sun imperfect and delayed by the trees and scrapers which stood between them and the horizon. But the day breaking was still beautiful, Prowl reflected, and there would be many future dawns to share.

I've never watched the sun rise with anyone before, he realized and turned to look at Bulkhead. The other bot's olive plating had a coppery sheen in the light and his face was placidly contemplative.

"I want to paint a sunrise," said Bulkhead. "I just need to find a good spot where I can see it and set up a canvas. I know I could paint from a memory clip, but it's not the same. There's something I… I can't get into the painting if I do it that way. I'm not sure how to explain."

"It's alright. I think I understand," Prowl replied. He watched nature shows on television for knowledge, but he wasn't satisfied unless he later witnessed the same phenomenon himself. It was not the same and Bulkhead knew that; he, like Prowl, was an observer. "Have you ever seen a butterfly emerge from a chrysalis? I'll have to show you. It's amazing how this world isn't like Cybertron- how it grows," he continued. Then he sighed and shook his head. "And we won't even be able to talk about it when we leave here. Organics terrify everyone else."

"Maybe they're scarier on other planets," Bulkhead suggested. "That Decepticon Blackarachnia, she used to be normal. Then something happened to her."

"I know Prime used to know her…"

"I think Prime thinks it was his fault."

Prowl was startled. "He does? What happened?"

Shrugging, the other bot answered, "I don't know. He just said he left her behind."

Interesting- or would be if he chose to dwell upon it. Much of their Prime's past was an inaccessible data file to them and Prowl respected that out of empathy. His joints stiffened thinking someone might actively wonder about his history; it was no bot's business but his own.

Listen. Birdsong, scattered footfalls, sporadic traffic, the whirr of his processor and of Bulkhead's. He let the noise fill him and quickly calmed. Why had he tensed at all? He faced no adversity and Bulkhead's presence was an affable one. I am a hypocrite. I preach stillness and focus, yet am only comfortable when mine is directed outward.

"We should head back now," he said, speaking gently and keeping his tone pleasant despite his sudden melancholy.

Bulkhead's smile was worth the ruse. "Alright."

They left the park and transformed, leisurely driving back to headquarters. As they approached, something whipped around the corner nearly crashing into them. From its bright color, not to mention its obnoxious and peculiar honk, the vehicle's identity was unmistakable: Bumblebee.

"Where's the fire?" Bulkhead questioned.

"Nowhere. Prime would be following him if there was one," Prowl replied, apathetic towards Bumblebee's departure. If the compact still wanted to sulk or fume better he do it elsewhere anyway.

Returning to robot mode, they entered the building. Optimus Prime stood with his arms folded and an expression of resigned discontentment, his optics directed at Bumblebee's smog trail. He turned towards them as they approached.

"Good, you're back," he said.

"What's got Bumblebee burning rubber?" asked Bulkhead.

"Yesterday's news," answered Prime. Then his optics' focus tightened. "Bulkhead, can we talk? There are a few things I feel need to be said."

"Sure, boss-bot."

This isn't a conversation for me, Prowl recognized yet was reluctant to leave. Obviously Prime wanted to discuss the day before, but what did he intend to say? Although Prowl had begun to describe their leader as just an "academy bot" to Bulkhead yesterday that had been meant as an allaying exaggeration. The framework of Prime's methodology reflected his training, but he displayed a laudable willingness to adapt and a desire to understand. If he was going to reprimand Bulkhead, Prowl trusted Prime to tailor his approach to his subordinate and couch the rebuke gently- however, he felt indignation that Prime would fault the other bot's actions. Didn't the others realize how thoughtless they were in evaluating Bulkhead?

"I'll be in my room," he announced and patted Bulkhead's elbow joint, hoping to convey the message of "join me later".

Prowl's room was his sanctuary. His teammates, he knew, did not understand why he would want a ceiling with chunks missing or a huge organic sprouting from the floor, but he loved it and thought of it as his: his sunlight, his tree. Decoration he kept simple, using the artifacts of a particular Earth culture with a philosophy he found profound and intriguing. His workstation was a subordinate feature of the room, contained in its own small space. He approached the tree and sat on its roots, folding his legs crossed beneath himself. As he had in the park, he focused on the perceptions of his sensors. Processor cleared, he then allowed thoughts to form.

Circuit-Su was the application of will as a force and the understanding of its intimate connection to one's spark. It was rumored that the purest form of the art was direct manipulation of one's own spark energy. Prowl believed that, although he had not thought of himself as having reached that level- until yesterday. Using only his processor's focus to break open the stasis cuffs had been something of an act of desperation; he was disciplined enough to put aside his emotions so that his alarm and doubt had not clouded his mind during his attempt. Now, after the fact, he found his success a cause for marveling. Could he replicate the feat? He wanted to try- it wouldn't take much goading for him to get Bumblebee to cuff him, although he worried the little bot wouldn't be as quick to release him if he failed in freeing himself.

Beyond his door he heard a thudding tread, counterpointed by a light tap to his entryway.

"Come in," Prowl instructed, knowing from the footfalls his visitor was Bulkhead.

Pulling open the door, Bulkhead entered. Prowl was surprised to see him smiling and eagerly prompted, "Well? What did Prime have to say?"

"He apologized! I thought he was going to tell me how I messed up, but he said he was sorry! And that he's glad I'm part of his team and a bunch of other stuff. You know he meant it. He likes giving pep talks, but you can tell he really means it. Not like some other Primes."

The contented tone of Bulkhead's voice Prowl found heartening. "I'm glad."

"So what are you up to?" the other bot asked.

"Meditating," Prowl replied. Then, after a click's consideration, offered, "Would you like to join me?"

"Sure!" Bulkhead declared. "Uh… how do you meditate?"

Prowl gave a soft chortle. "It's not difficult. I bet you already know how to do it. Let me explain…"