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a follow up to ardentaspen.deviantart.com/art… . It's long, I'm sorry

“Why didn’t you tell me?”
The question was so soft that it might’ve been imagined. Given that Vanguard did not usually outright demand explanations, Megatron guessed that his pseudo-apprentice was still troubled about the events of the Predacus League’s council.
“Why didn’t I tell you what?” he grunted, shifting his grip on the mesh patch and line welder as he examined the long scars Starscream had left in Vanguard’s chassis. Anger burned in his spark again as he recalled how the Seeker had dared to show his face among Predacons right on the heels of nearly killing one of their own. One of his own.
Vanguard lifted his hands as if attempting to express something, then dropped them again in a helpless gesture. “All of it. Any of it. I don’t know!”
A sigh pushed itself through the transtector’s speakers and the Storm Soldier guessed that if the Headmaster had been out of the armor, he’d have been running his hands through his hair, frustrated.
“Why did you speak for me at the council? Can we start with that?” he finally asked as Storm Soldier began to apply the liquid mesh to the worst of the gashes which -- if left unchecked -- would eventually cause internal components to loosen, potentially endangering the pilot inside.
“You know, I thought,” the larger mech said slowly, in deliberately measured tones, “That I had made the reason perfectly clear at the meeting of the clans. Were you not listening then, Boy?”
“But why-” Vanguard started to lean forward, but was firmly pushed back again.
“Be still. I have not finished.”
Sullenly, the Headmaster sat back and allowed the elder to weld the tears closed and heat the mesh patch until it bonded with the armor. After a short silence, Storm Soldier spoke again.
“Your encounter with Starscream was a stark reminder: you may have youngling Predacon status within the Thunderhead camp, but to the rest of the clans, to the rest of Cybertron, you are still an outsider. An alien. They needed to know whose protection you were under.”
More to himself than to Vanguard, he murmured, “I will not allow Starscream a second opportunity.”
“Um...about my Predacon status,” Jack cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably within the Vanguard armor, feeling unexpectedly guilty. “When you killed that Dweller -- man, that was almost two years ago now -- and...and you almost died, and we had to Bridge you to Earth so Ratchet could operate. That wasn’t...you didn’t...was that really on my behalf?”
Satisfied with the patch job, Storm Soldier settled back to crouch opposite the Headmaster, watching him with an almost calculating expression.
“And what if it was?” he challenged. He could almost see the question in Vanguard’s artificial optics. For an organic in a transtector, he was frighteningly good at mimicking Cybertronic functions.
“But...why?” Vanguard spluttered, “Why risk your life for an organic?!”
Something indefinable passed through Storm Soldier’s optics and he turned away. “Would you have asked that of Optimus Prime?” he asked emotionlessly.
A flash of shame flickered across the younger warrior’s face both within and without the suit, and he too looked away. No, he wouldn’t have asked that of Optimus, and they both knew it. They both knew why as well. Jack had intended to ask how this “ransom” business worked, and whether he would also have to kill a Dweller in order to ensure that his life was his own, but as he looked at the hunched shoulders and stony expression of his mentor, the words trickled away.
He had suspected for some time that Megatron secretly compared himself -- always unfavorably -- to Optimus, especially in how humans saw him and his motives. Those were big shoes to fill, Jack knew. He’d been trying for years and it always made him feel small. He felt even smaller now.
Gingerly, he exited the transtector and carefully climbed down to the ground. His smaller suit of armor extended upwards to provide an oxygen mask as he crossed the short distance between him and Storm Soldier. The ex-warlord loomed over him, even seated, and Jack was again reminded of how vulnerable he was like this, out of armor. With a deep breath, he reached out and tentatively placed a hand on the cool, silver plating.
“I…” he searched for the right words. “I’m sorry, Storm Soldier.”
Storm Soldier said nothing, staring out of the low archway at the stars. Jack summoned up his courage and tried again.
“I am grateful for what you did,” he winced, trying not to sound like he was pleading, “Really, I am. I just….why didn’t you tell me what you told the Predacus League? About owing my freedom to you?”
“Your life, not your freedom, I did not purchase you!” Storm Soldier corrected sharply, and Jack withdrew his hand, swallowing hard.
“I didn’t mean-”
“You didn’t know.” the gargantuan being finally looked down, studying the human at his feet. He seemed to see some question besides why didn’t you tell me in the young man’s eyes, and he tilted his helm as though considering. After an agonizing silence, he reached down and plucked Jack from the ground. For a moment he simply held him in one hand, examining him with keen optics before moving him to the other hand.
“Perhaps I did not tell you because I was afraid.” he mused -- an astonishing admission in and of itself -- but he did not continue the thought. His grip tightened the slightest bit, then he set Jack down again. “You would have thought that you had to win your freedom from me, that much is clear. It would have cast your training in a negative light if you believed somehow that you were not a free mech -- man -- . So I did not tell you of a custom I was not sure you would understand.”
The truth was that Jack had worried that ‘If his life is to be forefeit, then it is forfeited to me!’ might’ve meant exactly that. But hearing the regret, the resignation in the older warrior’s voice, he knew he had been thinking of himself as a human rather than a Predacon. If he had approached the matter from a Predacon viewpoint….Jack froze as the implications began to catch up with him.
“It is an ancient concept, one that would not necessarily translate perfectly with a human upbringing,” Storm Soldier remarked suddenly, as though reading Jack’s thoughts. His voice was heavy as he added softly, “If it disturbs you, I will not press the matter.”
“No.”
Storm Soldier glanced down again. The boy was not looking at him, but there was something more resolved about his posture then there had been before.
“You taught me the law,” Jack argued quietly, “I know what this means. At least, I think I’m starting to. I’m just...a little in shock, that’s all.”
Storm Soldier reared back and blinked. “Your systems do not register shock,” he sounded concerned. “You were perfectly healthy moments ago! Is it the wounds Starscream gave you?”
“What? No!” Jack laughed and held up his hands. “It’s just an expression, Storm Soldier! I mean that I’m trying to process information that’s a little too big for me to comprehend all at once.” He shrugged. “I still don’t know why you put up with me.”
Storm Soldier was a little annoyed that he’d gotten worried over nothing. With an exasperated growl, he swooped down and snatched the Headmaster off the ground once more.
“You,” he grumbled, “Are a troublesome and impertinent youngling.” Nodding towards the open air outside the arch, he said, “There is a storm approaching. We need to move before it reaches us. Now stop dawdling and get back in that transtector!”
Jack grinned at the bluster, but did not struggle as he was all but shoved bodily into the cockpit. “Okay, okay, I’m going!” he chuckled. The smile faded as the plating closed, obscuring him from Storm Soldier’s sight once more. He had a lot to think about.
The suit powered up and Vanguard stood upright, stretching and checking the new patches. “Ow,” he said, a little plaintively. “Weird how those damage signals sometimes register with my pain receptors. They didn’t used to interact with me physically like that.”
“Then perhaps next time you will be more careful about patrolling alone in Vos!” Storm Soldier snapped, reaching for his shield. His voice softened, almost imperceptibly. “He almost killed you, Boy.”
Vanguard hunched up his shoulder-guards in the posture that Storm Soldier had learned meant guilt or discomfort.
“Um. Thanks, by the way,” he muttered. “For coming to get me. Starscream said you wouldn’t.”
“And you listened to him?!”
Vanguard said nothing, only tracing a servo across his facial plates, and Storm Soldier guessed he was thinking of the acid burn that had almost permanently scarred his face. He turned and left the archway, shaking his helm. He should’ve killed Starscream then. Vanguard followed at a more subdued pace, eyes locked on the imposing figure striding along in front of him. Thoughts chased each other around his head, and the slow realization he had come to before began to tighten around his heart, making it difficult to breathe.
“S-Storm Soldier?” he asked in a tiny voice.
The warrior paused. “What is it, Vanguard?”
At first he didn’t answer, and the old Decepticon shrugged it off and began to walk again. Before he’d gotten two steps, he heard the faint whisper.
“I’ll...I’ll try to make you proud.”
Storm Soldier froze. He turned to face the Headmaster, who was still displaying nervous and almost guilty body language. He wondered if a call to Earth would be appropriate, to ask Medic Woman why he seemed so apprehensive. For a moment, Storm Soldier stood where he was, gazing at the smaller figure. Then, he reached out and took hold of Vanguard’s shoulder, drawing him forward to walk beside him. He did not withdraw his hand as they marched.
“Come,” he said simply, “Star Saber has two cycles’ headstart. We have work to do.”

Description

a follow up to ardentaspen.deviantart.com/art… . It's long, I'm sorry

“Why didn’t you tell me?”
The question was so soft that it might’ve been imagined. Given that Vanguard did not usually outright demand explanations, Megatron guessed that his pseudo-apprentice was still troubled about the events of the Predacus League’s council.
“Why didn’t I tell you what?” he grunted, shifting his grip on the mesh patch and line welder as he examined the long scars Starscream had left in Vanguard’s chassis. Anger burned in his spark again as he recalled how the Seeker had dared to show his face among Predacons right on the heels of nearly killing one of their own. One of his own.
Vanguard lifted his hands as if attempting to express something, then dropped them again in a helpless gesture. “All of it. Any of it. I don’t know!”
A sigh pushed itself through the transtector’s speakers and the Storm Soldier guessed that if the Headmaster had been out of the armor, he’d have been running his hands through his hair, frustrated.
“Why did you speak for me at the council? Can we start with that?” he finally asked as Storm Soldier began to apply the liquid mesh to the worst of the gashes which -- if left unchecked -- would eventually cause internal components to loosen, potentially endangering the pilot inside.
“You know, I thought,” the larger mech said slowly, in deliberately measured tones, “That I had made the reason perfectly clear at the meeting of the clans. Were you not listening then, Boy?”
“But why-” Vanguard started to lean forward, but was firmly pushed back again.
“Be still. I have not finished.”
Sullenly, the Headmaster sat back and allowed the elder to weld the tears closed and heat the mesh patch until it bonded with the armor. After a short silence, Storm Soldier spoke again.
“Your encounter with Starscream was a stark reminder: you may have youngling Predacon status within the Thunderhead camp, but to the rest of the clans, to the rest of Cybertron, you are still an outsider. An alien. They needed to know whose protection you were under.”
More to himself than to Vanguard, he murmured, “I will not allow Starscream a second opportunity.”
“Um...about my Predacon status,” Jack cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably within the Vanguard armor, feeling unexpectedly guilty. “When you killed that Dweller -- man, that was almost two years ago now -- and...and you almost died, and we had to Bridge you to Earth so Ratchet could operate. That wasn’t...you didn’t...was that really on my behalf?”
Satisfied with the patch job, Storm Soldier settled back to crouch opposite the Headmaster, watching him with an almost calculating expression.
“And what if it was?” he challenged. He could almost see the question in Vanguard’s artificial optics. For an organic in a transtector, he was frighteningly good at mimicking Cybertronic functions.
“But...why?” Vanguard spluttered, “Why risk your life for an organic?!”
Something indefinable passed through Storm Soldier’s optics and he turned away. “Would you have asked that of Optimus Prime?” he asked emotionlessly.
A flash of shame flickered across the younger warrior’s face both within and without the suit, and he too looked away. No, he wouldn’t have asked that of Optimus, and they both knew it. They both knew why as well. Jack had intended to ask how this “ransom” business worked, and whether he would also have to kill a Dweller in order to ensure that his life was his own, but as he looked at the hunched shoulders and stony expression of his mentor, the words trickled away.
He had suspected for some time that Megatron secretly compared himself -- always unfavorably -- to Optimus, especially in how humans saw him and his motives. Those were big shoes to fill, Jack knew. He’d been trying for years and it always made him feel small. He felt even smaller now.
Gingerly, he exited the transtector and carefully climbed down to the ground. His smaller suit of armor extended upwards to provide an oxygen mask as he crossed the short distance between him and Storm Soldier. The ex-warlord loomed over him, even seated, and Jack was again reminded of how vulnerable he was like this, out of armor. With a deep breath, he reached out and tentatively placed a hand on the cool, silver plating.
“I…” he searched for the right words. “I’m sorry, Storm Soldier.”
Storm Soldier said nothing, staring out of the low archway at the stars. Jack summoned up his courage and tried again.
“I am grateful for what you did,” he winced, trying not to sound like he was pleading, “Really, I am. I just….why didn’t you tell me what you told the Predacus League? About owing my freedom to you?”
“Your life, not your freedom, I did not purchase you!” Storm Soldier corrected sharply, and Jack withdrew his hand, swallowing hard.
“I didn’t mean-”
“You didn’t know.” the gargantuan being finally looked down, studying the human at his feet. He seemed to see some question besides why didn’t you tell me in the young man’s eyes, and he tilted his helm as though considering. After an agonizing silence, he reached down and plucked Jack from the ground. For a moment he simply held him in one hand, examining him with keen optics before moving him to the other hand.
“Perhaps I did not tell you because I was afraid.” he mused -- an astonishing admission in and of itself -- but he did not continue the thought. His grip tightened the slightest bit, then he set Jack down again. “You would have thought that you had to win your freedom from me, that much is clear. It would have cast your training in a negative light if you believed somehow that you were not a free mech -- man -- . So I did not tell you of a custom I was not sure you would understand.”
The truth was that Jack had worried that ‘If his life is to be forefeit, then it is forfeited to me!’ might’ve meant exactly that. But hearing the regret, the resignation in the older warrior’s voice, he knew he had been thinking of himself as a human rather than a Predacon. If he had approached the matter from a Predacon viewpoint….Jack froze as the implications began to catch up with him.
“It is an ancient concept, one that would not necessarily translate perfectly with a human upbringing,” Storm Soldier remarked suddenly, as though reading Jack’s thoughts. His voice was heavy as he added softly, “If it disturbs you, I will not press the matter.”
“No.”
Storm Soldier glanced down again. The boy was not looking at him, but there was something more resolved about his posture then there had been before.
“You taught me the law,” Jack argued quietly, “I know what this means. At least, I think I’m starting to. I’m just...a little in shock, that’s all.”
Storm Soldier reared back and blinked. “Your systems do not register shock,” he sounded concerned. “You were perfectly healthy moments ago! Is it the wounds Starscream gave you?”
“What? No!” Jack laughed and held up his hands. “It’s just an expression, Storm Soldier! I mean that I’m trying to process information that’s a little too big for me to comprehend all at once.” He shrugged. “I still don’t know why you put up with me.”
Storm Soldier was a little annoyed that he’d gotten worried over nothing. With an exasperated growl, he swooped down and snatched the Headmaster off the ground once more.
“You,” he grumbled, “Are a troublesome and impertinent youngling.” Nodding towards the open air outside the arch, he said, “There is a storm approaching. We need to move before it reaches us. Now stop dawdling and get back in that transtector!”
Jack grinned at the bluster, but did not struggle as he was all but shoved bodily into the cockpit. “Okay, okay, I’m going!” he chuckled. The smile faded as the plating closed, obscuring him from Storm Soldier’s sight once more. He had a lot to think about.
The suit powered up and Vanguard stood upright, stretching and checking the new patches. “Ow,” he said, a little plaintively. “Weird how those damage signals sometimes register with my pain receptors. They didn’t used to interact with me physically like that.”
“Then perhaps next time you will be more careful about patrolling alone in Vos!” Storm Soldier snapped, reaching for his shield. His voice softened, almost imperceptibly. “He almost killed you, Boy.”
Vanguard hunched up his shoulder-guards in the posture that Storm Soldier had learned meant guilt or discomfort.
“Um. Thanks, by the way,” he muttered. “For coming to get me. Starscream said you wouldn’t.”
“And you listened to him?!”
Vanguard said nothing, only tracing a servo across his facial plates, and Storm Soldier guessed he was thinking of the acid burn that had almost permanently scarred his face. He turned and left the archway, shaking his helm. He should’ve killed Starscream then. Vanguard followed at a more subdued pace, eyes locked on the imposing figure striding along in front of him. Thoughts chased each other around his head, and the slow realization he had come to before began to tighten around his heart, making it difficult to breathe.
“S-Storm Soldier?” he asked in a tiny voice.
The warrior paused. “What is it, Vanguard?”
At first he didn’t answer, and the old Decepticon shrugged it off and began to walk again. Before he’d gotten two steps, he heard the faint whisper.
“I’ll...I’ll try to make you proud.”
Storm Soldier froze. He turned to face the Headmaster, who was still displaying nervous and almost guilty body language. He wondered if a call to Earth would be appropriate, to ask Medic Woman why he seemed so apprehensive. For a moment, Storm Soldier stood where he was, gazing at the smaller figure. Then, he reached out and took hold of Vanguard’s shoulder, drawing him forward to walk beside him. He did not withdraw his hand as they marched.
“Come,” he said simply, “Star Saber has two cycles’ headstart. We have work to do.”