A Rediscovery

“Hey, you did find something in there! What’d
you-“

Blackspark
stopped halfway through the door of his workroom as Gravescratch growled at him, entirely taken aback by
the aggression, and dropped the bundle of chains he’d been carrying. “Woah, hey…
hey, now… I’m not gonna take it. You know I’m not.”

Gravescratch
bared his fangs for a klik more, shielding something behind his back, and didn’t
even look remotely sorry for the threat as he rumbled “this is mine” at the
mech who’d disturbed him. Yes, he knew that Blackspark didn’t take things, but…
this was… this was his. Had to be
sure.

“Yeah, hey,
sure- it’s yours. Not- not even gonna bother arguing that. You know I’m not
gonna steal y’ stuff… it’s yours. I don’t do that.” Blackspark soothed, very
slowly moving closer, and sat down in the second chair a short distance away
from Gravescratch. “Now… what’d you find? Didn’t think we’d get much out of an
old kennel… all I got were chains. Prob’ly melt ‘em.”

Gravescratch’s
antennae flickered on his helm and he slowly began to bring whatever it was out
from behind his back, optics still narrowed slightly, before pausing and
growling again. “Don’t. Laugh.”

“I’m- I’m
not- Gravescratch, you know me. I don’t take people’s things, and I don’t laugh
at things that’re serious. I’m not a terrible person. I’m an idiot sometimes,
but… I try ta be decent, you know that. C’mon, now… what’s up? You got real
worked up over somethin’ outta some… random…”

Blackspark
trailed off as a realization struck him, and his voice was much, much softer as
he spoke. “That… that wasn’t some random kennel, was it?”

Gravescratch
slowly shook his helm, then, almost reluctantly, brought the object out from
behind his back.

It was a
large toy hound, about twice the size of his helm, made of wire mesh and soft
metals. Unsurprisingly for something fished from the rubble, it was beat up and
a bit chewed on, but it was mostly in one piece- and Gravescratch had been
carefully reattaching one of the limbs. It didn’t seem to be sculpted after any
creature in particular, but someone had modified the helm. Someone who had
etched four additional optics on each side and one on the fore-helm. Someone
who had evidently also bitten at the toy with a series of tiny teeth contained
in long, narrow jaws.

Gravescratch
looked the toy over for a moment, then held it to his chassis and, in a voice
softer than Blackspark had ever heard from him, whispered “this is mine”.

 

Blackspark
stayed quiet for a moment, then, slowly, stood up and moved towards
Gravescratch. Purring very softly, he wrapped his arms around Gravescratch and
held the lanky mech close, rubbing gently at spots along his back that he knew
the scent-hound liked.

Not sure
what to say, he left it at just the hug for a little while, not letting go as
Gravescratch made no attempt to get loose, and spoke quietly when the words did
come.

“Ya know… I
know you’ve told me ‘bout how they treated you, but… don’t think it ever really
sunk in that we might find somethin’ o’ yours in a kennel. ‘m sorry, mech.” Blackspark sighed, optics dimming
slightly, and didn’t move except to continue petting. “You, uh… y’ wanna tell
me th’ story there? And, here- you know what? Lemme grab this kit- let’s go t’
berth, more comfortable.”

Gravescratch
silently returned the hug, leaning into Blackspark for as long as he could, and
didn’t speak until the bounty hunter let go and began to gather up the repair
kit. When he did speak, his voice was still quiet, still soft, as if he wasn’t
quite certain he wanted to share this. Honestly, he wasn’t.

“I was… not
born alone. You know this. There were others- not exactly like me, we were all
prototypes, but… similar. And they…
kept us together. Social species, after all. They’d found that isolation made
for unwanted results. So… I  had
batchmates of a sort. I don’t… remember if they had names, though. Probably
just numbers. And I don’t remember their numbers because… well, there was…
there was an accident. When we were all young. Something… there was an
explosion, I think. I don’t remember, but… I do know they were gone.

“From what I
remember, I… wouldn’t stop howling. You- you must understand, I’d never
recharged alone in my life, and it
was cold without them. I… wasn’t old enough to really understand that they were
gone, and I don’t think it would have helped if I had.

“Well, they’d
learned that… that punishing young beings made for terrified, cowed tools
rather than useful ones. So, instead… one of them gave me this. It- it holds
heat very well, and… it was no substitute, but… I’d tired myself out enough
that it worked.”

Optics soft,
Gravescratch looked down at the toy for a moment longer, then nuzzled his face
into it to muffle a quiet little noise. Which didn’t work very well, since he
usually spoke with his mouth closed anyway.

“I thought
this had been destroyed. The- the war, there was… some kind of a bomb. They
emptied the building and left, wouldn’t let me take this with me, and… we never
went back. I thought… I thought it had burned, or been buried hopelessly. But I…
but I found it. This is mine. It’s
the only thing they ever let me have,
and it’s still mine.”

Blackspark
finished packing up the repair kit and just… listened. Quietly. When
Gravescratch seemed to be done talking, he very gently took one of those narrow
servos in his own and pulled, coaxing the scavenger to follow him.

With the kit
in one servo and Gravescratch’s claws in the other, he stepped out of his
workroom and walked the short distance to their berthroom, then shut the door
behind them both- just because this felt like a private thing. Even if there
was no one else on the ship.

As
Gravescratch watched, Blackspark sat down on the berth, spread a tarp out, and
put the repair kit on it, and patted a spot right next to himself. “Gravescratch,
honestly, I don’t know what ta say. I got a lotta really angry words in mind,
bu’ they won’t help. So… c’mere. Sit. I’ve patched up a few li’l toys… lemme
help you fix that? Promise not ta make it worse.”

Gravescratch
stared for a moment, swaying side-to-side in uncertainty, and almost retreated
with his find-

But he didn’t.

Instead, he
slunk up onto the berth, sat down, leaned against Blackspark, and very slowly
pressed the toy into Blackspark’s servos. He didn’t let go of it, but he
offered it. Which was… the closest he could get.

 

Much later,
Blackspark smiled to himself and rubbed very gently behind Gravescratch’s
largest set of antennae, purring gently as he watched the lanky mech sleep.
They’d cleaned the toy, tightened all the loose parts, and added paint not just
to the original eyes, but to the ones Gravescratch had etched in himself. It
still looked beaten up, but it did in fact hold heat very well, and that was
being put to use.

Gravescratch
was curled up on his side, helm against Blackspark, with the toy tucked against
his throat. He was either recharging or very close, his field was nothing but
contentment, and he kept kneading his claws on the toy.

Frankly, it
was adorable.

Not that
Blackspark would ever admit that.