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Author's note!

Thanks for the reviews for those that did it, and for the favorites, too (reviews are better, though!)! I've had some troubles with this chapter, but finally, HERE IT IS!

I say thank you to my beloved virtual-twin kikiyophoenix19, she helped me QUITE A LOT with this fic. :3 I love you twin!

Also, KateaNui has some wicked ideas that really helped me out as well 3 THANK YOU 3

Well, here it is!

TIPS:

-xx-xx-xx- this signals a switch in the POV, from Sunny to Sides and so on.

Italics are some sort of… flashbacks. Kinda :P

Hope you enjoy!

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The hour and a half shower had done nothing to quell Sunstreaker's aching spark that day. The washracks had always served him to cool his circuits down from everything. It had never failed him before.

Well, there was always a first time for everything, wasn't it?

Nothing he'd tried had worked. The washracks, going for a drive, training, fighting… nothing had managed to make that terrible numbness in his spark recede, and it was slowly driving him insane.

Still, he tried, and after his shift in the monitoring room was over, the golden frontliner made his way towards the communal washracks, hoping that this time it would at least help him work out some of his pent up stress. Footsteps echoing throughout the hallway were the only warning he had before a silverish form rounded the furthest corner of the corridor. As much as he tried, he was unable to hide the rage in his optics as Silverstreak walked past him in the hallway, the gunner's dry glare thrown his way only enraging him further, ripping an irate rev from the yellow twin's engine.

Anger was a nice distraction from his pain, and he let himself be carried away by it before the pain took over once again. He couldn't stop thinking about his brother. That was nothing new. His spark ached horribly when his processor brought back the memories of that day. What hurt the most, though, was to know that he had deserved every single enraged word from his brother. His brother, on the other hand, hadn't deserved the things he'd said. Primus… only to think of the horrible lies he'd told his brother that day was enough for a sharp pang of pain to stab him right through the spark, one that made a feeling he'd never before had uncurl uncomfortably within his spark and spread through every single one of his systems.

Self loathing.

That feeling was alien for him. It was something he had never felt before, and yet there it was, coming back to haunt him every time he thought of his brother. He kept telling himself he'd done it to protect him, that he had only tried to save his brother from both the dangers of the War and, in a way, from himself. That wasn't helping him keep the pain away, although to be honest, he no longer thought that was possible. The only thing that would be able to do that was the same thing he'd pushed away not too long ago. Something he'd refused to have when he'd had the chance, and that he now knew would never want to be his again.

Why would he, after all the cruel, despicable things he'd said?

He knew he wouldn't forgive himself for any of it. He would never be able to, for he had been the one to destroy who his brother was. Sideswipe had been so full of life… He'd had the ability to bring light to a room with his mere presence, and his smile…

That was the main reason he would never be able to forgive himself. He'd been the one to make that smile disappear. That sharp, impish curve of his lip-plates that made his cheek crook just so that it gave him a wicked, mischievous look, a look that clearly said Sideswipe was able to walk around you a thousand times without you even noticing… And he was. Sideswipe had that ability. He was able to fool anyone he wanted if he set his mind to it, and could get out of any slag he got himself into with just that same smile.

It was a smile that had even managed to give some sort of warmth to Sunstreaker's own cold spark, even though they were rarely directed at him. Sideswipe didn't dare to do so, for on the rare occasions in which he had, they had been wiped out of the crimson mech's face-plates as easily as the tears he'd shed for Sunstreaker a few days ago had been. Sunstreaker remembered a few of them, though. They were mostly offered to him after the battles won, battles in which Sideswipe had done something right that he felt would make him worthy of his brother's approval. He'd always chanced those smiles at him after such small victories, and had seen his hopes come crashing down time after time. Sunstreaker never returned the smiles, or made any sort of gesture to acknowledge Sideswipe's triumph, and, as time passed, Sideswipe got used to that rejection as well and never smiled at him that way again.

Those smiles had been the hardest test for the golden frontliner. They were both a comforting success, and a painful reminder of the situation he was caught in, and had dragged his brother into as well. Every time Sideswipe gave him one of those smiles meant another battle Sideswipe had lived through. Meant yet another triumph on the red frontliner's part. A recognition of both their efforts, be it conscious or not.

Those accomplishments were barely enough to drown the pain those same smiles caused him. They were a cruel reminder of what Sunstreaker had taken away from them. What they could never have again.

Things weren't like this back on Cybertron, way before the War started. They were close, closer than what anyone could have ever guessed, and they knew just what one meant for the other. When Sideswipe smiled, Sunstreaker gave him back his own version of a smirk, that barely there quirk of his lip-plates that had his brother's own smile blooming into a full grin, baby blue optics gleaming with that sheer happiness that always radiated from him whenever they were together. That same energy that had slowly started to drain away ever since the attack that had led Sunstreaker into believing he needed to do anything in his power to keep his brother safe.

Even if that meant breaking both their sparks in the process.

It was done, though. What had started as a simple plot to look after the most sacred thing for Sunstreaker had turned into something so dark, so wrong that it had changed them both and transformed them into what they were now. Nothing more than a shadow of their former selves.

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Earlier that day, elsewhere…

A breathy moan escaped his lips when he felt his brother's glossa sweeping over the main coolant line in his neck, the slender digits of an artist tracing almost delicately over the sensitive seams at the sides of his body. He was writhing beneath the golden frame pressing him down to the berth, Sunstreaker's weight above him the most wonderful sensation he could recall feeling. Before long his warm lips found his own, and they were lost into each other's mouths, a kiss so slow, so lazy, so sweet that it burned itself in his spark forever.

When their lips parted Sunstreaker sat up over him, straddling his white thighs and looking down at him through lust filled optics, his hands running over his crimson chest-plates, mapping every inch of his plating. Sideswipe smiled up at him, his frame burning where Sunstreaker's hands touched him…

but Sunstreaker didn't smile back.

Sideswipe's optics suddenly cycled online after a fitful recharge, sitting up on the berth as the images of his dreams—or nightmares—repeated themselves over and over in his processor. He brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, thunking his helm on his arms with a long, drawn out sigh. He could feel the ghost of Sunstreaker's lips over his own after the dream, and it was making his pain surface again, as intense as it had been that very first day when Sunstreaker had decided to rip his spark out.

He needed to stop hurting himself like this. He had to stop having these dreams about Sunstreaker, but they kept assaulting him every night, showing him images of what he'd had only once, and would never have again. He craved his brother's love. He craved his approval… his touch. By Primus, even after what he had done to him, he would have gladly given anything in his power to have another chance with him. To have another opportunity to show him he could be what Sunstreaker wanted him to be.

Could he? Sideswipe wasn't sure anymore. He wanted to try, he wanted to show Sunstreaker that he could try… but he wasn't sure he could be that way anymore. He had done everything wrong. He had failed at some point… there had to be an explanation for his brother's apparent disdain towards him. He only wished he could know what, so he could change it.

Sideswipe snorted at himself. He had to stop thinking that way, because he knew, deep down, that he would never be good enough for his golden twin brother. This had to stop.

He needed to get away.

Without bothering to say a word to Silvestreak, who was recharging on the berth next to his own, Sideswipe slid out of the gunner's quarters, determined to finally put an end to this all. He made his way to the Autobot's SIC's office, a plan forming in his processor. It was the only way he would ever be able to move on. He needed to leave Sunstreaker behind.

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Sunstreaker let out yet another harsh sigh as he made his way out of the washracks for the second time that day. It seemed to be the only thing the frontliner willingly did anymore… and even that seemed strained. Since the day in which Every Thing Went To The Pits Sunstreaker tried to spend as much time as possible out of his quarters, be it working, in the washracks, or out for a drive. Not to avoid Sideswipe, since the mech hadn't even stepped by once after that day. On the contrary, the empty room was far more than what he was willing to deal with. He didn't know where his brother had been staying for the last days, either, but he suspected he'd been crashing at Silverstreak's…

…that particular train of thought always made his tanks churn violently within him, jealousy and rage flaring through his spark at the possibility of his brother being with the doorwinged glitch. He couldn't help the way in which his spark lurched possessively when that crossed his processor, even when he was very aware of the fact that he'd lost all right to feel that way when he'd pushed his brother away.

Focused on trying to keep his spark from hurting once again Sunstreaker missed the silver form of a mech coming before him –again- until he was shoved back forcefully against the door to the washracks, a threatening growl falling from his vocalizer as his frame tensed and got ready to spring into action. It was then that his icy, furious optics fell on the form before him, and his engine roared fiercely, his lip-plates quirking upwards into a sneer aimed at the very last mech he wanted to see right now.

Silverstreak.

A very angry, very upset looking Silverstreak, at that. Not that Sunstreaker noticed any of that. All he could think about was the sudden memory that assaulted his processor, the silver frame writhing and moaning in overload beneath his brother's that day when he'd arrived early from a mission…

A slight creaking noise warned him of the damage inflicted upon the palms of his own hands when his fists clenched impossibly tight, and he took a step towards the mech before him, more than ready to beat him to a heap and reduce him to a pile of whimpering parts. It would serve him as a stress reliever, at the very least.

"The frag do you think you're doing, glitch!" Growled through gritted dental-plates, Sunstreaker's angry retort was accompanied by his fists shoving the silver mech roughly away from him.

Silverstreak's doorwings flared behind his back in affront, but the way in which they were quivering gave away the pain he was obviously going through. "What did you do!" He snarled at the golden twin, hands balled tightly at the sides of his body. "What did you do to Sideswipe?"

Sunstreaker felt his rage rise to unimaginable levels, and his optics flared to the point of almost whiteness. "The frag is it to you, slagheap?" Not only he had the nerve to touch his brother, he also was idiotic enough to confront him!

Silverstreak had always harbored a little bit of fear where Sunstreaker was concerned. It was something most mechs—or at least the smart ones—did. The golden Lamborghini wasn't a nice mech, and the wrong word with him could make the difference between having to spend the night in the infirmary or not. Silverstreak knew he was no frontliner material, and that if he ever managed to get on Sunstreaker's bad side, he'd stand no chance against the warrior.

Still… he hadn't been able to control himself. Sideswipe was his friend, and sometimes something more… even though he'd never held any hopes regarding that. He knew Sideswipe's spark was out of his reach, as painful as that bit of knowledge was, but that didn't stop him from trying. He'd always been by his side as his friend, accepting the moments of intimacy when they came and enjoying every second of them as if they were to be the last.

That was probably why hearing the news from the crimson mech earlier that day had hurt that much. What he had been craving to have for years belonged to someone who was not worth it, someone who was destroying it. Sideswipe had asked him not to say a single word about this to anyone, but given the fact that it was already too late to change it, he didn't feel the need to hold it all inside any longer.

"For a mech that thinks himself to be perfect, you're pretty slagging stupid!" Silverstreak snapped at him, his own anger making him ignore the dangerous nature of what he was doing. Insulting Sunstreaker was never a good idea.

Sunstreaker's optics narrowed to thin lines against his face-plates, and he took yet another step towards the gunner, the need to know what the other was talking about the only thing keeping him from dismantling him piece by piece. "Keep pushing it, fragger, and I'll rip your head off." He growled in warning. "What happened is none of your fragging business, so you'd better back off before I get rid of you myself."

"It is my business because Sideswipe's my friend, glitch! Do you even know where he is right now? Do you even care enough to know where he's going!"

Those words caught him off guard, and he stared at Silverstreak for a moment, feeling the awful way in which his spark was pulsing faster at the implication beyond the sniper's words. "The slag are you talking about?"

"I hope you're happy, Sunstreaker! You got what you wanted. You wanted Sideswipe out of your way, you got it. He's transferring. He already talked to Prowl, and he's leaving now."

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Prowl was suspicious of Sideswipe's sudden request to be transferred, but he granted him his wish, only because it would, in the long run, serve him for his own purposes. Prowl had received an order from the higher ups to put together two groups for two different missions only a few days ago; one would be sent to meet Hound's squad as back-up, and the other would be commanded by himself, and would be sent to an organic planet called Earth.

Prowl informed Sideswipe of his mission, and let him know that he only had a few hours to prepare himself, for the ship he was supposed to board was already being set up and loaded. Sideswipe listened to his new orders in silence before thanking the strategist and leaving his office, heading back to Silverstreak's quarters to pack what little belongings he had. It was done. He at last now had a new chance to try and have a life without the pain of rejection. He had a chance to move on.

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The rest of what Silverstreak was saying was lost to Sunstreaker as the world slowed to a halt around him, the gunner's voice fading into silence along with the sound of his own thoughts. Sideswipe was leaving. Sideswipe couldn't leave him. How was he supposed to protect him if he was away! All the pain, all the suffering, it would all be in vain if he left now!

Sick of Silverstreak's babbling Sunstreaker lunged, rearing his fist back and punching the gunner hard in the face. The mech staggered backwards a few steps, clutching his cracked optic and spiting a few more insults before walking away, most likely towards the medical bay. Maybe if he'd been anyone else he would have retaliated in kind but he knew he could never stand a chance against Sunstreaker's skills.

The golden mech stood there, venting heavily as he tried to figure out just what to do. Before he could think of anything else he was walking towards the docking bay, his heavy steps echoing through the hallways as he closed the distance between himself and the ships docked on the opposite side of the base.

He didn't know what he would do once he got there… but he had to see it for himself. He broke into a run, racing along the corridors of the base as his spark did the same within his chest. Sideswipe couldn't be leaving….

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Sideswipe had never liked emotional farewells. War had proved to be the wrong place to get attached to other mechs.

You never knew when you were saying goodbye for the very last time.

He'd always shrugged them off with a joke and a grin, a pat on the back, and then departed without looking back. This time, however, it was easier said than done. It wasn't so easy to not look back when you were leaving half of your spark behind.

He boarded the ship with only one brief glance over his shoulder, and felt his spark gave a painful lurch when he caught a small glimpse of yellow before the hangar doors slid shut between him and the golden shadow.

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Sunstreaker was barely able to see his brother's crimson form boarding the ship before it was too late. The vessel's engines roared to life and without giving him a chance to try to stop it, it took off to the skies, taking half of his spark along with it. He hadn't been fast enough. He hadn't made it in time to stop his brother… and now he was gone.

And it was his fault.

"Sideswipe.."