I do not own Transformers or any of the characters or concepts. And damn, I stole a line from Titanic. I don't own that either.
Thanks to all who reviewed Chapter 1. There will be another story out here soon which runs concurrently with this – Fallen Angels.
This recaps the first G1 episode. You might say it was "what happened behind the scenes" LOL!! It's still set later in season 1.
Warnings: **Slash** later gets explicit. Coarse language, adult themes. Kiddies- no readie pie
I stormed away from Jazz's office, feeling as though the whole reason for my existence had just gone through a shredder. Talk to Hound. As if! Not that I could anyway - Hound was right now out there somewhere with Mirage, following up reports that there were traces of Insecticon activity in the African continent. Of course, it was rubbish. It was common knowledge there had been no Insecticon activity on this side of the galaxy for aeons. It was just an excuse on Hound's part to be alone with Raj! It was perfectly obvious that he wanted Raj for himself – he'd probably orchestrated this whole thing!
I determined to head straight for my quarters. But when I rounded the corner just along from the Control Room, I ran straight into Huffer. "Hey, Cliffie!" he said. As usual, he looked infuriatingly pleased to see me. "Why don't ya come outside? Spike's gonna show us how to play tennis!"
I kept walking in the direction of my quarters. "No thanks," I said. Even without what had just happened the suggestion was extremely unappealing. Ever since we'd been here every trivial source of amusement seemingly ever invented by the human race had been inflicted upon us – an endless procession of games involving balls, rackets, clubs, bats and sticks. They'd even had us playing some game knocking discs around on ice at the North Pole! I couldn't see the attraction – it all seemed pretty pointless. And Raj thought so too!
Right then, I was hard pushed to imagine anything worse. "I don't like human games," I said.
He was still beside me. "You used to!" he said. "When we first came here we played snowballs and everything!"
"That was a long time ago, Huffer!" Hadn't Jazz said just that?
"Well come down to the rec room later and I'll give you a game of table football .."
I stopped and rounded on him. "Look Huff, just leave it, OK? I don't want to go to the rec room or any bloody where else! I just want to be alone."
He got a real pissed, pouty look about him. "You know, you've changed!" he whinged. "You used to be fun. Now you've gone all dark and miserable. And it's all because of him!"
I wanted to throttle him! I could feel my fists clenching. "Don't you start Huffer!" The conversation with Jazz burned vividly. "Look – we're breaking up, OK?" I said, not believing it any more than I had in there but hoping it would have the desired effect for now. "I need some time out!"
Huffer looked guilty. "Oh!" he said. "I'm sorry CJ!"
"Well just have some – compassion!" I started walking again, relieved that that my quarters were just in the next corridor.
He was still beside me. "If you change your mind ..."
We had reached the quarters and I thumped the door release mechanism. "Just can it Huffer!" I said. And I forged through and hit the closing button straight away, before he had a chance to follow me in.
I lay miserably on my berth. In my hand was the journal I'd kept since just before we left Cybertron. I could not bring myself to enter anything in it today, yet, I was determined not to just lie here and think about Raj. Somehow I knew I must prove Jazz wrong, prove I was "together" and in control of this relationship. Then Jazz would let up and everything would be all right.
So, instead, I was going back over old entries. It would, in any event, perhaps reveal some "evidence" that my affair with Raj was different from what Jazz thought. That it really was "going somewhere" and not just – I could hardly bear to think the term – a quick legover - as he seemed to believe it to be.
I read the first entry I had ever written.
Cybertron, AD Trion 14276 Cycle 25
This is my three thousand four hundred and forty fifth vorn with the Autobot Army and this time I have been chosen for a really important mission. We are going to a new planet to get more energy resources. When we get back with them, we will do away with the Decepticons once and for all and Optimus Prime will be in charge of Cybertron. It is very exciting. I am right now on the Ark, in what will be the recreation room waiting for liftoff. I am here with my fellow minibots – Brawn and my uncle Gears and my best friend Huffer and my cousin Windcharger. Cousin Bumblebee is not with us. He has been promoted to Special Operations.
I cringed at my naivety. If only it had been that simple! I read on.
Bee just radioed me a short while ago. He is going to tell me everything that goes on with Special Ops during this mission. He promises. There has been a delay with the liftoff. Prime wants to add another mech to the Special Ops team. Prowl and Ironhide seem to have a problem with this mech. He has some history with the Decepticons, and they don't trust him.
I hope we leave him behind and just get on with this. Every moment that we sit here and argue there is a greater chance that the Decepticons will find out what we are doing. And the last thing we need is a troublemaker in our ranks ...
I put the pad down and lay back and sighed, deeply. My misgivings about the "troublemaker" had lasted exactly as long as between then and the time I first set optics on him.
I thought back to that first time – the joor of the launch, and shuttered my optics.
The moment I saw Mirage, my life changed.
I remembered it perfectly! There us minibots were, in our little seats on the bridge, completely redundant whist everyone else engaged in useful tasks to do with pre flight checking the Ark. Screens flashed and instruments whirred and clicked. Every now and then, a buzzer would sound. Jazz was in the co command chair, and I could hear every transmission he was making and every response.
.::Wheeljack? Report engine status::..
.:: Copy Jazz, AOK. Hyperspace jump drive intact::.
.::Sideswipe! Fuel status?::.
.:: Confirm primary reserve deployed. Consumption on maximum::. .:: copy Jazz this is Sunstreaker. Secondary reserve status a-ffirmative::.
.::Hound? Navigation systems?::.
.:: Copy. A OK::.
.::Bumblebee? Communications systems::.
.::no hitches here Jazz!::..
.::Ironhide? Weapons systems?::.
.::Are go, Jazz::..
.::Prowl? Visual scanners?::.
.:: Fully operational::.
It felt as though everybody had something to do except us! And I was seething with jealousy at Bee sitting there at that Communications post, even though I knew he had worked every last micrometer of his circuitry off to get where he was.
The voices and the purposeful activities went on – and then suddenly none of it mattered any more. For I was not looking at Jazz, or Bumblebee, or listening to any more buzzers or transmissions. I was just staring at the mech who had just come through the door and was now talking with Prime.
He was – devastatingly beautiful. There are no other words to describe it! I mean, he was a perfect shape, very slender, but with everything in exact proportion. He was facing me and from where I sat I could see that his face was pale and exquisitely structured, and that he had large, almond shaped very cobalt blue optics and a crested helm. On the rest of his body, blue and white colors shone with the lustre of expensive paints and polishes, and his insignia was emblazoned on a breast plate which gave him a regal look. Despite his slightness, there was an aura of hidden strength and power, and he moved with the grace and fluidity of liquid mercury. Within nanoclicks, my circuits were melting.
I just stared! I forgot all about the fact that we were blasting off to an unknown planet on the other side of the galaxy on the most important mission in living memory. Nothing mattered except that my view of his perfect form was not obscured.
I heard a voice say: "Cliffjumper ... ! Hey, Cliffie! Countdown's started. We gotta strap in ..." but it seemed as though it came from another realm.
The mech stopped talking to Prime and they shook hands. Then he was gliding over to the command chairs where Jazz and Prowl were orchestrating the final takeoff sequence. Jazz stood up and shook hands with him, then clapped him lightly on the shoulder, as though they already knew each other and he laughed, a tinkling, melodious sound. The sound echoed deep within my spark and little bolts of energy ran all through my now wilted circuitry.
A hand was waving in front of my optics. "Hey! Cybertron to Cliffjumper ..."
I came to my senses to see Huffer's somewhat anxious face looking at me, a bemused expression on it. I looked back to my newfound all encompassing object of attention. How could Huff not have been captured by this vision too? "Who is he?" I whispered.
"Mirage De Ligier. Our intelligence officer!" The voice came from my other side. I didn't think I'd spoken loud enough for Gears to hear! "He's an Illusor!" I heard him mutter.
The mech was now engaged in conversation with Prowl, who looked uncharacteristically fazed. I still could not stop staring at him. "Wow!" I said.
I felt Gears ruffle himself beside me. "Forget it, kid!" He growled. "It's way out of yer league. He's an Alpha. Once upon a time he lived at the Towers."
"Yeah!" It was Brawn, coming over to join us. "Lah dee fraggin' dah ain't it?" he said, regarding Mirage with his hands on his hips. "Not one of Prime's best moves if you ask me!"
Gears grunted. "Especially with his track record!" And they were both eyeing him with great disapproval.
I could not keep my optics off him. Now Prowl was getting up; he moved away from the control panel and Mirage sat down there instead. I noticed other heads turned towards him now, the Twins snickered and Ratchet had appeared and was frowning over next to Wheeljack. Jazz smiled at Mirage as though he was pleased to have him sitting there, but Prowl looked immensely cross. He went over to Ironhide and muttered something and Ironhide said: "Never mind bud! I could use a hand with the guidance system!" Prowl sat down, but you could see he was simmering. Which was real unusual for him.
"An Illusor!" Huffer was saying. "Now why on Cybertron did we have to bring him? They're real creepy, y'know! He'll be hangin' around watching our every move. Mark my words - you won't even be able to scratch your aft without him doing a report!"
"It ain't that bad Huff," Gears proclaimed. He sounded knowledgeable. "He's bound by Regulations from the Trion Academy – can only get invisible at certain times. Nevertheless," he muttered, "I wouldn't be trusting the fragger ..."
Mirage started looking over instruments and checking systems. His hands moved smoothly over the controls and another thrill ran all through my circuits when I saw that he had lovely long, slender fingers. I also realized he was going to pilot the Ark, and another series of tingles erupted. I remembered that they could do just about anything, these Alphas.
"You know him then?" I whispered to Gears. Brawn had sat down next to him now and they both still wore an unhappy look.
"Oh yeah!" Gears said. "He's well known to some of us here!" I was staring at him again, and Gears' voice sharpened. "I said forget it, Cliffie! You'd as like have Seekers fly out of your aft as get close to the likes of him. And if you've got any sense you'll stay well out of his way!" and then he grabbed my arm and said ""And you'll also put on your muffla cluckin' seatbelt – unless you wanna be mashed at the first warp exit!"
I found I was able to still look at him whilst fastening the straps. "He's amazing!" I said.
And I'd never stopped thinking it since.
I sighed. It was getting late. I wondered if he would be back tonight and if so whether he would head straight down here. He often did that. And Jazz could not be right about him because when he came through the door he always gave me that lovely smile, and his optics shone azure, and then he would put his arms around me and hold me and kiss my neck. Then we often stood there for quite a while with my cheek against his shoulder and him softly mouthing my helm - all warmth and sweet alloys - before he took me over to the berth.
Sometimes he kissed me and his tongue rolled slowly around the inside of my mouth and we pressed together; but although he got really hot - as hot as I did – he was really gentle. He would stroke my cheek and sometimes hold my hand and then he would gently lower me on to the berth. Now if I didn't mean something to him he wouldn't do all that, would he? He'd just shove me straight down there and shove his spike in. That was what I did with mechs I didn't really give a pit about but just needed to frag.
At the thought of him, heat rushed all through me and everything stirred inside and energon exploded through my conduits. I shuttered my optics. It was so tempting to just lay there and imagine the whole sequence of him making love to me. But this was exactly how Jazz said I was! And I'd said I wasn't - but here I was being just like it!
Determining to change that, I picked up the pad.
I looked at that first entry again. After we'd taken off and done the first few jumps there was that meteor shower and the Decepticon attack, and then the fight. I remember that I could not see Raj among all the blasts and tangle of mechs fighting, but whilst I was doing my best to blast a hole in Thundercracker's side two of the Reflector triplets came flying past us with no apparent assailant and my spark fluttered in excitement because I thought it must be something to do with him.
I got Thundercracker a beauty, and then I was standing there wondering about Raj, and although I heard Huffer's shout it was too late. I caught a fleeting glimpse of the console flying towards me and then everything went black.
My journal survived, somehow. It did not get another entry in it for four million years! But I did not start a new one. I kept that one for the sake of posterity. I looked at the next entry.
2nd day on Planet Earth
Some mechs have been badly damaged in the crash. Huffer lost part of an arm and some panels from one side and Gears lost his main faceplates, which has made him even uglier than usual. Windy and I have been sitting with them. They are both going to be all right. Wheeljack brought heaps of spares with us and he has been working with them.
The worst damaged mech in there is Sideswipe. He lost one whole leg and half of another, and three fingers and he got a hole in his spark cavity. But he is very cheerful, even though Ratchet swears at him a lot. Ratchet got mad at us being there too long this afternoon, but we explained that us minibots of Gard Nordic always stick together and he cussed a bit but was all right about it and let us stay. It helped that Sunstreaker said we should. He is really cool.
Otherwise Optimus Prime has been giving us cleanup duties. We crashed into a mountain and the front of the Ark got all squashed, so there is a lot of gear to bring up from the store rooms . The rest of it isn't too bad – my little quarters were barely touched. But there was a dreadful mess in the command room where we had the fight and a lot of Decepticon stuff still lying around and Prime wanted it out of the way.
Nobody knows where the Decepticons are. Rumour has it that they are here somewhere and that the Special Ops Team are out there getting a lead on them. None of the rest of us are allowed out until we know more. I keep hoping to see him but I haven't. This must be because he is out there looking.
Bee has told me what the planet is like – apparently its got a lot of scenery and organic plants and some parts are quite pretty; Otherwise, Bee has gone all smug and quiet. I am cross with him. He has broken his promise. I was counting on him to tell me about him.
I put the pad down again.
By the end of the next day, I knew Mirage liked me. At least, I suspected it. I remember that day. It was the day Hound and I got sent to look for the Decepticons.
Of course, Bee was never any help as far as Raj went, in the end. And Gears and Brawn were even worse. I remember that morning, we were in the energisation room, and I was sitting with Brawn and Windy. Gears was also there - he had made it out of the medbay and his face had thick plates on one side which made him look lopsided. Ratchet was keeping Huffer for one more day.
I was watching Bee at another table, laughing with Jazz and Prowl, and I was wondering whether I should go over and say 'hi' to Bee and ask about Mirage. I didn't really want to. Bee seemed not really kind of one of us any more, even though he was in here energising. As it was, Brawn raised the subject anyway.
"Well, we ain't seen much of fancy pants then!" He leaned back in his chair opposite, a cube in one hand and piece of energon block in the other, and looked up at the hologram which was playing behind me on an ancient set somebody had found when we cleared up the storage cupboard.
"Figures, don't it!" said Gears, breaking off a piece of the block. "Reckons he's too good for the likes of us!"
I did not think they should be talking about him like that, and I felt suddenly defensive. "He's been out looking for Decepticons," I said. "And officers often don't come in here!"
Gears grimaced and Brawn gave a snort. Looking across, I saw that Ironhide had come in and that he had joined Bee and the others and was dishing out another round of cubes. Brawn looked over his shoulder and back to us again. "Tell me who you see over there!" he said, indicating in their direction.
"Look like Officers to me!" said Gears. He sounded triumphant.
It was frustrating. "Yes well they're here now!" I said. "But they weren't yesterday. Besides, Mirage is different. Special! He's probably got an important assignment or something. Nobody else can do what he can do!"
Gears grunted. "Not this again!" he muttered.
"I've been reading about electro disruption actually," said Windy. As usual, his mouth was half full of energon cake and crumbs scattered on the table. He never could seem to desist from shoving a great deal in at any one time and then trying to have a conversation. Brawn gave a disapproving frown. But Windy went on:"It's quite risky. It said in this file about some student who got the sequence wrong and you could only ever see half of him at a time. For the whole of the rest of his life! That's why they need special training."
Gears cleared his throat. He had that knowledgeable air again. "Now there's a lot of stories fly around about this stuff, Wind," he said. "I think that might be a bit of an exaggeration!"
"Well whether it is or not it obviously wasn't him, was it?" I said, feeling annoyed that my cousin had to point out some quirk in the repertoire of Mirage's amazing abilities.
"Oh no," said Brawn, tearing another piece off the snack block . "Dux of the class, he was. At Trion. Not that it ever did any of us any good. All he did when he got outta Trion was make a truck load of money and stash his already overloaded estate full of the kind of pit you an' I could only ever dream of."
"Yeah!" Gears growled in agreement. "Whilst the mines at Gard went down the tubes! Now Brawn, I'm not sayin' the Government was entirely right ..." - he now had his politically knowledgeable voice on – " ... if theyda given us a helping hand to begin with, we may have had somethin' of a chance. But fact is by then they were real busy with other matters erupting round Cybertron. Likes of him could have helped us, but he chose to finance stupid expeditions across the galaxy and play cohorts with a bunch of Decepticons and losers."
Brawn laughed, grimly. "Yeah! He took a large gulp from his cube. "He got his, later though huh Gears! That's what happens when you play berth games with the big guys."
"Yeah!" said Gears, obviously warming to the conversation now. He pointed his slice of block at Brawn. "Now what's gonna be really interesting is if Megatron shows up here after all!"
Brawn smiled. He looked rueful. "Nah!" he said, "That's history. I don't think after what happened there's any love lost there. And he came out of it all right." He finished off his cube and rose from the table and looked around at Ironhide, who nodded and got up himself. "I guess some types were just born to come up stinking of aromatic tailings!"
I did not understand what they were talking about, but I did not like their tone. There was a nastiness and a bitterness in their voices which I had not heard before. I decided it was best not to talk about Mirage. Obviously, they were not going to say anything nice, and since I could not even begin to think anything nasty there was no pint in discussing the subject at all.
Yet I was intrigued. Mirage was not only beautiful, but cloaked in mystery. I decided to ask somebody else about it, however, rather than listen to their disparaging commentary.
I sat there sipping my cube instead and thought about his blue and white hues and wished he would walk in, but he didn't.
Not long after that, I was called into Optimus Prime's office and told I would be going out with Hound to look for the 'Cons. There had been some tell tale signs, we were told, and they were thought to be about fifty parsecs away. I glowed at the thought that he had probably got that information and that I would be the one to make good use of it. I also knew that Hound had been a Bot forever, and that he knew everyone, and that there was no better mech to ask about his past.
Soon we were driving through the desert. It was real good to be out of the Ark, and I liked the feel of the soft sand under my tyres and the Earth sun on my roof and I decided Teletran 1 had not really done a bad job at all with my alt form, which was compact and nifty and quite fast.
Hound seemed to know exactly where were going. His keen sensors had obviously confirmed the source and were pinpointing its location. He didn't seem distracted by this at all, and bowled along completely unperturbed. His alt form was obviously better for the territory than mine. I decided he was quite smexy in a rugged sort of a way. But not really my type. And not a patch on Mirage.
I rolled along, keeping pace with him and trying to think of a suitable opening to bring up the subject. But he beat me to it! Obviously in our alt forms he could not have a facial expression that I could see. All the same, I knew he was suddenly grinning from audial to audial.
"So you've taken a shine to 'Raj then?" he said.
I did a big waver off the track and nearly ran into a rock. This was appalling! How did he know? I hadn't made it that obvious had I? I hadn't even seen Mirage since we crashed. And my processor went into hysterics about just what I was going to do if he also knew about this.
"Not particularly!" I said stiffly, recovering. "He's just – well not – unattractive"
The Tracker laughed out loud. Infuriatingly. "Yeah!" he said. "Well look, don't touch! You don't wanna get him in your circuits!"
"Why?" The question was out before I could stop it. Because frankly, I couldn't think of anything better.
Hound rolled on, his engine rumbling happily. "I've known Raj a long time," he said. "We go way back! He's had a rough time. Came out of it all right but – well there's a lotta demons Cliffie. He don't get involved!"
Now I was even more appalled! "I just think he's all right to look at, that's all!" I said. Nevertheless, my mind went back to the conversation at energisation and I couldn't help myself. "What did he come out of all right?" I asked.
The track rose slightly ahead and we both dropped gears and increased our revs. Hound took a deep intake. "Well, you know The Alpha Progues of Cybertron had a lotta money," he said, "like they used to rule Cybertron once and – well they haven't done that for a long time but they still wound up in the best places with the most things and leading the kinds of lives you and I only dreamt of in the days before the war …"
"Yes," I said. I sort of gathered that was what Gears and Brawn had been trying to say.
"He had some rippers of places," Hound went on. "Apartments in Praxus and Sky City, resort in the Golden Isles, lodge in the Iron Mountains, you name it. But the place he really loved was the Towers. It was sort of like his creators traditional home. He grew up there. When they died, he sunk everything into it."
I thought back to my sparklinghood, so long ago now. I remembered seeing pictures of Alpha districts as a sparkling. But I had never been to any.
"When the war started, the Decepticons were after everything they could get, "Hound went on. "And they were 'specially interested in the Towers. Place used huge amounts of energy, you see. Megatron figured if he blasted the Kell out of it he could destroy Iacon and at the same time steal the reserves of selenium stored at the generators. Mirage negotiated with him to save the place. Ended up giving Megatron practically everything else he owned. Did no good – Megatron totalled it anyway. Ever since Raj has fought on our side – mostly. But it hurt him a lot."
We drove on without talking, out tyres crunching softly in the sand. My spark felt fit to burst! Such a despicable, heartless act! If anyone did not think that Megatron was every bit as awful as he was cracked up to be then they should get their aft whacked! But as for Mirage - Hound had just increased his amazingness about a hundredfold. He came through it! Against Megatron! And he did great things for the Bots! He truly was a legend.
Yet my spark also plunged into despair. He was of the big league! Towers. Sky Cities. South Sea Isles Resorts. Deals with Megatron! I was a nothing by comparison.
Hound chuckled. "I'm a Tracker, right? I pick up on things!" he said. "I'd know that look you gave Raj on the Ark anywhere in the Universe! An' I know what's in yer head now. But take my advice, kid – all that stuff didn't do his credibility a whole lotta good. He's got issues here. You'd best keep your distance!"
I must have come over all cross and disappointed, because he said "Hey, you got a real nice admirer here anyway!"
I wondered if this swarthy green smartaft kept all this knowledge to himself or whether I could expect it to be broadcast liberally around the Ark. "Huffer," I said indignantly, "is my best friend!"
"Whatever!" he still sounded amused.
We slowed down as we rounded an outcrop and drew near to where his locators were indicating out target was hiding itself. As we transformed, he snickered again. "You got it bad, kid, ain't ya?" he said, clapping me on the shoulder. "Ah well, whatever he does don't cross him! He can handle himself. And he makes a bad enemy!"
I had, I thought crossly, absolutely no intention of crossing Mirage! And I intended to get to know him better. Yes! That's what I would do! To Kell with this Tracker! But stars above, I would have to do something to make my mark – if he was to notice me at all. And I would have to do it soon.
So when we reached our destination a short while later and there was Megatron right in my sights, I thought the best thing I could possibly do - despite having being told in the clearest of terms not to - was to pull the trigger. That way I would destroy this fiend who had so mercilessly pillaged and plundered this beautiful mech who I was now, without a shadow of a doubt, irreversibly and irrevocably in love with.
Later, I got 'called in' for firing at the Decepticons. I guess my "heroics" didn't work out too well with Lazerbeak and the chase and Hound falling over that cliff.
Ironhide and Prowl had a real go - even though Hound had said it was all right, and actually seemed to find it quite funny. They went on sternly about "duties," and "obeying orders," and "discipline," and I was trying to be all serious and say "yes," "no," "of course not sir!" but it was hard to concentrate. It wasn't that I thought I'd done the right thing or wasn't sorry about Hound getting hurt. It was just that – well he came in half way through and everything inside spasmed and I thought my spark might give out. Then I went hot with embarrassment and shame. Because surely after today's little display he must think I was the biggest coghead on the Ark.
I managed to keep looking at them but there he was looking straight at me with those blue, blue optics and it was like they were stroking me and every sensor node on my exoskin started to tingle and I just felt more wretched than ever. And all the while I was overwhelmed even more by his presence and despite the shame I wondered whether Alpha exoskin felt the same as ordinary exoskin, and I still to this day cannot remember the last thing that Prowl or Ironhide said.
Luckily, they didn't notice. But he did. As I left, he leaned over and whispered in my audial: "Nice shot, by the way" and his voice was melodious and perfectly cultured and sent currents scintillating through every circuit. "You nearly hit him!" he said. "I saw it! Megatron is not an easy target. Well done, little one!"
For the rest of the day I was Supermech ....
Nothing in the Universe could possibly go wrong.
And that was the start of it! From then on in I never really did have any control over it or any choice in the matter.
The light was dim now and outside the automatic perimeter lights shone with a dull glow. It did not look as though he would be back. With a sigh, I gave in to the longing and rolled on my side and just ached for him with a longing so deep that I thought my spark might break. Shuttering my optics, I imagined him against me, holding me, sinking gently into me, his mouth hungrily questing and his slender hands gripping mine as we writhed together in an ecstasy of union.
And most of all I heard his voice murmuring softly what I so much wanted to hear. "Oh I do love you, little one!"
OH meeegod poor Cliffie! I can hardly stand this. Other story will start soon – then I'll update this.
Please R and R - always valued.
Sorry about the Twilightish line (I guess I don't own that either). I felt compelled to throw it in after twas said my other fic was like T. hehehe!!