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The base is quiet as Wheeljack rolls in. Usually he’d come in through the ground bridge, but with this being a surprise visit he had to come in the old-fashioned way, with his ship hidden a few kilometers away. His steps echo in the large, empty space. No Ratchet working away on maintenance for the bridge, or the boys playing video games. There’s no Miko who he can count on to dispel the tension with a well-time chord.
His wrecker senses are screaming to get out of here. Only trouble lies ahead. Not the fun kind.
Wheeljack looks around. He knows the basic layout of the place. Rooms off to the side, down to the left, with training and storage rooms on the right. Bulkheads would be near the front. It always is. With his strength, they’d want their heavy hitter closest to the door. Of course they’d never expect a Decepticon to make it this far, but if he knows Bulkhead then he knows the guy would rather be safe than sorry.
You never expect the worst to happen until it does.
Wheeljack lets a servo run along a wall, as he wonders.
Once upon a time he and Bulkhead were the worst no one expected. They made Decepticons fall from the sky like rain. His digits trail along the warm metal. Probably heated up from all the energy consumption all of doc’s contraptions use up. This place doesn’t look like it has proper ventilation.
The scraping sounds like music in his audials. Much like the way his swords sound as he cuts across a Decepticon’s chassis. When it’s his swords they cut cleanly. The metal he cuts with them makes a clear, sharp sound. Here the digit he drags catches on bumps and unleveled walling. It’s not clean, and clear. There are issues in the sound. Inconsistencies that could have been avoided if his digit could just stay in one place like it’s supposed to.
He guesses that maybe no part of him has ever been that kind of bot.
Bulkhead’s door is as generic as every other door in this place. Wheeljack knows it’s his. First door on the left of the hall. It’s the one closest to the path that leads to the front entrance.
For the briefest moment he feels back at home on that rusty old bucket of bolts the autobots had given the Wreckers to start off with. Bulkhead was the last bot to join them on that ride before Wheeljack blew it to bits for a mission. He chose the door on the left, first one you’d come across right after getting on the ship. It was right across from Wheeljack’s.
They both were a lot more green back then.
He remembers the first time he stopped by Bulkhead’s room. The door slid open to reveal the big guy himself, arms up on the side of the door, ready to squeeze his frame through at an awkward angle.
As he approaches now, the door slides open just like it used too.
This time Bulkhead’s arms are crossed over his chassis. He’s got a mean glower now. Used to be he wasn’t sure how to look mean. Good to know some Seaspray’s lessons stuck, or maybe he learned that look from Ratchet.
Either way one thing is clear as a sunny Earth day, Wheeljack was expected.
To be fair he hadn’t been trying to hide his approach. He’d hate to see the look on Ratchet’s face if he’d snuck in here. Or out of here. Actually maybe they should try it. Him and Bulkhead sneaking out while the commanders are busy. Just like old times.
Wheeljack’s smile falters as he realizes Bulkhead’s been standing there in complete silence. That’s not like him.
He pulls back slightly at an angle, and looks Bulkhead over. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Bulkhead steps to the side. Just enough for Wheeljack to scrape by.
He does so. His chassis presses against Bulkhead’s as he barely manages to wiggle his back to and fro to allow get the rest of his body through. Wheeljack makes sure to have as much of his frame touch Bulkhead’s as possible. Warm metal against warm metal, and Bulkhead doesn’t shiver once. Not even the couple of times when sparks appear.
Scrap. He’s really in trouble this time.
As soon as he passes, Wheeljack turns away. He rubs a servo along the back of his helm. It doesn’t help him feel any better.
“Look, Bulk-” His vocalizer scrambles as he turns and is met with Bulk’s face in his own.
“Why weren’t you here?” Bulkhead pulls back as he asks.
He’s always been a little taller, but now it feels as if the big green guy was a giant towering over Wheeljack.
“What?”
“Miko,” Bulkhead counts off his digits. “Optimus, Arcee, Bee, Ratchet! They were all here!”
Wheeljack raises his servos. “Bulk I didn’t-”
“Where were you Jackie?” The giant green bot leans forward, and Wheeljack pulls back.
Blue optics usually so gentle, and inviting like doors leading home, feel icey. As if the bulb’s behind those optics had frozen all the way through while he was gone. Bulkhead turns away. His whole frame creaks as he stumbles away. Each step is a work of labor. One pede never leaves the floor as the other has to practically be thrown forward before his whole body falls. Wheeljack winces as he watches.
He heads for his berth but only makes it halfway before he falls. Wheeljack takes a step closer, ready to help. Bulkhead’s helm turns sharply. The glare freezes Wheeljack in place.
“I needed you here!”
“Bulk.” Wheeljack pushes some air from his vent in a short, fast burst. What is there to say? Bulkhead has never been this angry before. Not even when Wheeljack blew a hole through the ship right above his helm. It was nearly sucked right off. Almost lost to the vacuum of space. Wheeljack had just barely grabbed him in time. It took cycles of apologies before the big guy actually let him back in his room again.
The humor he had used to try and play off the situation immediately following the accident only served to make things worse between them. Those cycles had dragged on forever. They did get better. With time.
How are they gonna come back from this?
“Bulk, I was trying to give you space.” He throws his servo down to emphasize his point.
They both know that that’s not the truth. Not entirely.
“Space?” He swings an arm through the air. “That space was for you more than me, Jackie. I didn’t need space, I needed you!”
Bulkhead lurches forward as his strength abandons him. He collapses on top of his injured leg. Wheeljack darts forward. His servos catch Bulkhead’s sides. Wheeljack kneels down as he pulls Bulkhead forward, trying to get some of the bigger bot’s weight off his injured pede. Bulkhead’s servos weigh down heavily on his pauldrons. Whatever, he can hold still like this. It’s the least he can do to help Bulkhead.
“It’s just us left,” Bulkhead shakes his head.
“I know Bulk.” And he does. Bitterly he thinks back to his final moments with Seaspray. With every one of the wreckers that he watch die. Anger ignites his spark for each memory where Bulkhead wasn’t there. Some where he had a different assignment, others from before he joined up, but the ones that upset him the most are those they lost after Bulkhead left to join Prime’s squad.
Wheeljack closes his optics. He has to purge himself of those emotions. Right now Bulkhead needs him and he can’t think about the other wreckers and be where Bulk needs him. He hasn’t been able to in a long time.
Bulkhead is watching him when Wheeljack is finally able to force his optics back open.
“It’s just us,” the way Bulkhead emphasizes ‘us’ saps Wheeljack of all his strength. He starts to shake. Wheeljack moves his arms to hold more of Bulkhead as the green bot continues, “and you weren’t here.”
Why was that? Wheeljack lowers his gaze. He has been there to watch so many of their teammates die. For more of their friends then Bulkhead ever could be. So why couldn’t he look at Bulkhead? Even now the mere sight of him injured is, too much. It triggers every single one of his systems. All of which urge him to run.
Bulkhead has always been different from the rest.
“I couldn’t stand to see you like that.”
Bulkhead pushes himself up and off of Wheeljack. He tries to follow, but Bulkhead swings his both arms out, keeping him at a distance. “Like this? It’s not gonna get better Jackie!” Bulkhead gestures towards all of himself. “This is how I am now!”
“Ratchet told Miko you could get better.”
Bulkhead narrows his optics. He crosses his arms over his chassis. “And if I don’t?”
Wheeljack avoids Bulkhead’s eyes again.
“So I guess it’s time to ask, are you gonna turn tail?”
He’s really got his number, huh? Frag.
“Bulk I, I don’t know.” Wheeljack rolls his arms up and back, working his shoulder joints. It barely gets rid of any of the tension in his frame.
“You don’t?” Bulkhead’s expression hardens. “That sounds like an answer to me.”
He turns around, and starts to limp towards his berth again. “You can see yourself out.”
“That’s not what I mean. Bulkhead!” Wheeljack grabs Bulkhead’s arm. “Come on Bulk!”
Bulkhead doesn’t budge. He won’t even look back. “What did you mean then?”
“I-” Wheeljack needed a moment. Frag he’d need cycles to come up with a good answer. Something that could fix this.
Bulkhead slowly turns around. Those icy blue optics now look sadder than Wheeljack has ever seen before. His arm hangs limply in Wheeljack’s grip. “Just say it Jackie.”
He raises his other servo, and holds Bulk’s face. “You are,” Wheeljack shuts his optics. He lets go and turns halfway away. “I mean, come on Bulkhead you already know.”
“Do I?” He asks, raising his voice again. Bulkhead points one digit at the ground as his drives his servo down towards it. “I thought I did. I thought I was gonna wake up and you’d be here. Instead I find out that you were, but then you left with Miko! That the two of you were in trouble!”
“For you!” Why can’t he understand that?
Bulkhead takes both of Wheeljack’s servos and raises them up. “I know, but I need you here.” Optics round with sadness and need, Bulkhead leans in closer. “Jackie?”
He should go. There’s still Decepticons to beat back. A planet to explore and hide on away from this conversation. Away from the possibilities. If he stays or go he could lose Bulkhead either way, but this loss, it may be the one that would break him. Things have always been different with Bulkhead. More serious. The losses larger, the sadness deeper, and the hurt always lasts longer. When he walked away from the wreckers it felt like he was walking away from them. Even though he promised again and again that wasn’t the case.
He shuts his optics, lowers his head, and lets some air out of his vents. Well they’re here now. He peers up past his optical ridge, keeping his head angled as he watches Bulkhead. “Do you think Prime would mind me staying for a night or two?”
Bulkhead’s face breaks out into a smile. He drops Wheeljack’s hands to clap his shoulders and laugh. “You mean it? You’ll stay?”
“Not forever. There’s still Decepticons out there, but how much trouble can they get in for a couple of days?”
“Don’t test them Jackie.” Bulkhead shakes his head.
He turns to look back at his berth. Wheeljack wraps one arm around Bulkhead’s back. He puts the other around his front. “Time to recharge.”
“You don’t have to help me.”
Yes. He does. Maybe that will keep Bulkhead from giving up completely the next time he leaves. As much as he loves him, he can’t stay here forever. Not if he wants to keep all of his anger under wraps. Bulkhead can probably tell it’s there, just a little. Even if he wanted to ignore it all and pretend to be blind he won’t be able to forever. Maybe when he’s ready to confront it, Wheeljack will be too.
Maybe.
“Get moving.”
They take it slow. Slower than they’ve ever moved before. One step at a time instead of running ahead crashing through decepticons, or emotions, and always hesitation. If Bulkhead doesn’t get better, they won’t be able to move like that anymore. Even if he does, Wheeljack still doubts that they’ll ever be able to feel the same way they had before. It’s different now. Infinitely more complicated.
Wheeljack lays Bulkhead down on the berth first. He jumps up next to him, sitting on the edge, and plugs Bulkhead in. This conversation is done but the problem hasn't been resolved. Not for either of them.
Despite all his rage, all the ways Bulkhead had betrayed the wreckers, Wheeljack still can’t bring himself to leave. Not now. When he can finally push himself to go, Wheeljack knows it won’t be forever. He looks over Bulkhead. He falls into recharge mode just as fast as ever.
Wheeljack looks up, expecting to see stars passing by a window. Instead he's met with the boring grey walls of the base. There's a small portion of it painted green and pink, probably Miko's handy-work. He leans back against the wall. His right servo drifts over Bulkhead’s helm. Gently he rubs his digits over it. How many times has he done this now? How many more chances will he get to sit, and fixate on his thoughts while listening to Bulkhead recharging?
He doesn't know. There's no way to calculate it, and no bomb to get him out of the emotional turmoil that was his own making.
It's nice.
He should just let it be nice.
Bulkhead has always been better at working through this crud.