Chapter Text
Brainstorm sat hunched over his workbench, adamantly attempting to ignore the dull aching in his spinal strut. He had been in this same position for joors -- or, what he assumed to have been joors. It was now late in the nightcycle...or was it technically early in the morningcycle? Brainstorm hadn't exactly been paying any attention to his internal chronometer.
And why would he? He was teetering on the edge of an engineering breakthrough, he was sure of it! The passage of time didn't matter to a genius, much less one who was about to completely revolutionize technology!
Brainstorm's digits rapidly tapped away at the touchscreen of a datapad, one of many that were messily strewn across his workbench's cluttered surface. Some might say that his half of the lab was just as incomprehensible and chaotic as the jet himself, but Brainstorm would argue that chaos is where scientific innovation thrives, and where the most groundbreaking discoveries are made.
Never ceasing in his furious notetaking, Brainstorm clumsily fumbled for the nearby package of half-eaten rust sticks (that he definitely did NOT swipe from Rung's stash). He absentmindedly bit off yet another small piece of the sweet energon candy, his optics still staying practically glued to the glowing screen that he held just inches away from his exposed face.
He was so close to what would surely end up being a reality-shattering epiphany, but it infuriatingly remained just out of his processor's reach. Brainstorm let out a strained groan of frustration, and reluctantly took a brief moment to slowly massage at his throbbing temples with the pads of his digits. How dare the universe still try to keep its greatest secrets from him!
Well, the universe obviously didn't know who it was messing around with, and just how determined and stubborn Brainstorm could be. He would not rest until he finally figured this little...conundrum out; he could not! To go recharge now would essentially be to give up and admit defeat -- to give in and accept, however begrudgingly, that completely unraveling the complexities of the universe was much too great of an undertaking -- something that was to be beyond even his inimitable capabilities.
Ha! As if!
Brainstorm's optics fervently scanned over his scribbled notes again, an indignant frown beginning to gradually crease the metal-mesh of his face. What was he missing?! Had he somehow forgotten to carry a number somewhere in his equations or something?! He distractedly grabbed for the nearby glass of energon -- which had long since become tepid and bland -- and took a quick swig.
Ugh, he hated mathematics! Not that Brainstorm was bad with numbers or anything, excuse you -- it was just so processor-numbingly boring, and a total waste of his invaluable time and talent. Perceptor was the one who usually handled all of the dull and tedious stuff, while Brainstorm was the one who actually did all of the fun and important stuff. Where was that stupidly sexy microscope when you needed him? Specifically, when you needed him to do something for you?
...oh. Right. He was probably recharging by now.
Perceptor had retired back to his and Brainstorm's shared habsuite not very long after their joint shift for the cycle had technically ended; which must have been...several joors ago at this point. He had briefly attempted to persuade the jet to return to their berth with him, but Brainstorm was very adamant that he was currently on the verge of discovering something truly extraordinary. Which he definitely was!
Perceptor had to know all too well by now that it was pretty much futile to get his conjunx to take a break whenever his spark was fully set on something. And besides, it's not like Brainstorm would even be able to peacefully recharge right now anyways, what with just how much his fatigued processor was practically buzzing in anticipatory excitement at his imminent revelation.
...actually, now that he was fully focusing on it, it wasn't just his processor that was currently experiencing the strange buzzing sensation -- his entire being felt like it was continuously vibrating. Even his very spark seemed to pulse and whirl faster from within its chamber, much like it did whenever he was with Perceptor. But that handsome microscope of his was long gone, so what gives? Why was he feeling this way all of a sudden?
Brainstorm finally managed to tear his gaze away from the shaking datapad to look at his servos; they were trembling, causing the many glyphs crowded onto the glowing screen to slightly blur in his vision.
What in the Pit?
Brainstorm quickly attempted to stand, only for his knee joints to immediately buckle underneath him, as if his legs had suddenly turned into jellied energon. He dropped to the floor with a near-deafening crash, his wings banging painfully into both the workbench and the stool on his way down. He simply laid there for a long moment, disoriented and impatiently waiting to see if the ceiling way high up above him would just stop moving already.
Eventually, Brainstorm tried to at least sit up, but an unexpected spike of his quavering frame's internal temperature caused his elbow joints to suddenly give out from underneath him as well. The back of his helm heavily smacked against the solid floor with a loud clang, sending his already-overclocked processor spinning once again. Well, the slight coolness of the metal beneath him felt marginally relieving to his still-smarting wings, at the very least.
Brainstorm flared his clattering plating as much as he feasibly could in a desperate attempt to expel some of the rapidly-intensifying heat, but it ended up doing very little to alleviate his discomfort. Between the widening gaps in his shifting armor plates, he soon noticed that there were arcs of charge currently snaking all across his now-visible protoform.
What was going on?! Why was his frame-
All of a sudden, there was another overwhelming spike of heat and charge, but this time around, it was much more intensely concentrated right around his...oh.
One of Brainstorm's unsteady servos tentatively snuck its way down his boiling frame, towards his modesty panels. He instantly pulled his servo away, however, when his probing digits were abruptly met with burning-hot metal. He hesitantly drew his servo back into his sight, only to see that the pads of his digits had now been stained a translucent pink, slippery with the slick lubricants that must have leaked through the thin seams in his plating. His vents hitched.
...oh.
Perceptor was suddenly pulled from the oblivious depths of his recharge by the shrill sound of his internal HUD receiving a high-priority notification. He dimly onlined his still-tired optics with a deep, sleepy groan. Who wanted him now, and for what? Reluctantly, he checked his internal HUD, to see that he currently had an incoming message from...Brainstorm?
Perceptor frowned, and slowly lifted one of his servos to blindly grope around at the other half of the berth -- the side that was usually occupied by his conjunx's sprawling form. But his exploratory touches were only met with disappointingly cool sheets, and not the pleasantly warm metal that he had been silently hoping for.
Brainstorm wasn't here, and it was actually very likely that he hadn't even been back to their shared habsuite at all since Perceptor himself. The other scientist must still be messing around in the lab, having long since disregarded the time -- as he often ended up doing whenever he inexplicably became obsessed with one of his own projects. It wasn't the first time that this same exact scenario has occurred...and it definitely wouldn't be the last.
Perceptor vented out a heavy sigh of weariness as he slowly dragged his other servo down his face. He...well, in all honesty, he disliked being alone in the berth; he much more preferred to wake up with Brainstorm right there beside him, for his love's bare face to be the very first thing that he saw as soon as he onlined his optics.
Perceptor then momentarily focused his attention upon his internal chronometer -- the cycle had already been reset. Just what could the neurotic inventor possibly need him for during such a ridiculous joor?
Finally, he decided to open the new message that Brainstorm had pinged him.
Percy.
One word, zero exclamation points, zero emoticons; all worryingly contrary to the quirky jet's typical style of texting. Perceptor's frown deepened at this disquieting observation, and he moved to prop himself up onto his elbow joints. The lingering drowsiness now began to gradually ebb away from within his stirring processor, to instead be replaced with burgeoning concern.
After a moment of thought, he quickly typed his own message back to his bonded :
Brainstorm? Where are you? Are you still in the lab?
There was then a brief pause as Perceptor anxiously awaited Brainstorm's reply, all of his attention now fully focused upon his internal HUD. Only a few tense nanokliks managed to elapse before he ended up receiving the anticipated response :
Yes.
Again, just one word. Brainstorm's returned message gave no further information, only an uncharacteristically terse confirmation of his current location. Perceptor sat all of the way up in the berth now, and tried to keep himself from immediately jumping to conclusions. Had there been some kind of lab accident? Was Brainstorm hurt...?
The microscope hastily shook his helm in a quick attempt to forcefully recenter himself. No, no; as frustratingly obstinate as the jet could end up being at times, surely even he would have pinged one of the medics and been taken to the medibay if he had somehow been injured...right? Perhaps he had simply gotten himself stuck whilst working upside-down again, and was just too embarrassed to actually admit so in text.
Seeking answers regarding Brainstorm's well-being, Perceptor expeditiously messaged him another question :
Are you alright?
I need you.
Perceptor promptly rebooted his optics, momentarily taken aback by such an unexpectedly frank response. Three words this time, but also very obviously a non-answer. Without any more consideration, he swiftly flung the berthsheets off of himself, got to his pedes, and began to hurriedly speed-walk his way towards the habsuite door. He didn't even think to first retrieve his reticle from atop his nearby berthside table.
He could no longer keep tolerating all of this vexing uncertainty -- he just had to actually confirm for himself that Brainstorm really was safe. The utterly abnormal nature of the comm messages that Perceptor had recently been receiving only served to hasten his already-urgent pedesteps, and before he knew it, he was more than halfway down the corridor.
I'm on my way.
Please.
The very nanoklik that he read the single-worded plea, he felt like his rapidly-spinning spark suddenly shrunk from within its chamber, contracting with an intense fear for his mate. Perhaps it truly was quite advantageous for him that there was nobody else currently wandering around this particular section of the ship during such an odd time of the cycle, because he was full-on sprinting now. The loud sound of his own rhythmic pedesteps as he ran his way down corridor after corridor was almost deafeningly thunderous to his audials; the incessant reverberations of the unobstructed echoes were relentlessly beating against his processor like war drums.
And to make all of this somehow even more distressing for him, his overclocked processor kept forcefully presenting him with various upsetting imaginings of what could have happened to Brainstorm. Much to Perceptor's horror, he pretty much instantly recognized that many of these unbidden images were actually recycled memories from during his time as a Wrecker. However, instead of his previous comrades being the ones who were brutally mutilated and dying painfully, his mind cruelly replaced them with his own conjunx endura.
The blinding blue of Brainstorm's sparklight escaping through all of the countless deep cracks in his crushed chassis as his quickly-fading spark gives one final, desperate flicker before finally being extinguished forever. The bright yellow of Brainstorm's optics and the vivid red of his biolights slowly dimming, darkening, until they eventually ended up becoming a woefully vacant black. The familiar teal of Brainstorm's armor gradually desaturating into the even more familiar grey of death. The deep magenta of Brainstorm's energon, viscous and slick, completely soaking Perceptor's trembling servos and seeping sluggishly into every single seam in Perceptor's plating-
All of a sudden, he was (thankfully) yanked away from the black hole of terror that his thoughts had rapidly been spiraling into; he had finally arrived at the closed entrance to the lab, and none too soon. As soon as they detected and identified the presence of Perceptor's EMF, the blast doors quickly glided open with a quiet whoosh -- but even that still seemed much too slow to the impatient microscope. He then promptly stepped across the stainless-steel threshold and hurriedly strode his way into the lab, but much to his inner dismay, he did not receive his usual boisterous greeting from Brainstorm.
Perceptor's previous troubled frown from earlier suddenly returned with a vengeance now, the metal-mesh of his brow deeply furrowing with intensifying uneasiness. He immediately tilted his helm upwards so that his optics could frenetically scan the high ceiling, silently hoping that he would eventually come across the all-too-familiar sight of his upside-down lab partner -- but it soon became very apparent to him that Brainstorm was currently elsewhere. The well-used harness itself was still freely hanging from up there, but it was very obviously empty, swaying ever-so-slightly as it dangled lowly in the air.
Such a simple and unassuming visual shouldn't have perturbed Perceptor so much, but because of its current implication, now it did.
So, it seemed that Brainstorm really wasn't just stuck, after all. In any other situation, under any other circumstances, perhaps Perceptor would have actually been somewhat relieved by that fact. Now, however, all that he felt instead was an ice-cold, quickly-sinking dread. The harsh feeling was as if his frame had suddenly been completely submerged in liquid nitrogen, like his coursing energon had just instantaneously frozen within his lines.
His agitated spark spun impossibly faster from within its casing. Since Brainstorm hadn't just gotten himself stuck, that must mean that something else had to have happened to him instead, and Perceptor just couldn't help but fear that it was something worse.
"Brainstorm...?" he tentatively called out into the eerie stillness of the lab; his own voice sounded thin in comparison to the thick silence that completely filled the vast space. The sizeable scope that was located upon Perceptor's right shoulder bobbed reflexively as his sharp gaze meticulously scanned all across the surrounding area for even the slightest glimpse of familiar teal armor, but there was none to be seen. "I'm here -- where are you?"
For a long, harrowing moment, he heard no response -- only the muted humming and whirring of the lab's numerous idle machinery. Then, finally, Perceptor's audials just barely managed to detect the faint sound of someone saying his designation. He was almost instantly able to accurately pinpoint it as apparently coming from the far corner of Brainstorm's half of the lab, somewhere around where the chaotic engineer's self-assembled 'workshop' was located.
It would seem that the single-minded jet had hardly moved at all since the last time that Perceptor had seen him, which must have already been more than a quarter-cycle ago now. For just how long had Brainstorm been experiencing distress before he actually decided to contact his partner?
The extensive assortment of equipment, machinery, and furniture that comprised the small nook currently obscured its likely inhabitant from Perceptor's view, but at least he knew exactly where the other was now. That knowledge only slightly relieved his stress-addled spark.
Not daring to waste even a single moment more, he promptly began to hurriedly speed towards his new destination. As he did so, Perceptor desperately attempted to mentally brace himself for whatever he might end up seeing when he eventually reached it. Would he suddenly be met with the ghastly sight of slowly-spreading puddles of energon? Of melting armor plating and flickering lights? Of a seizing, violently-convulsing frame?
As soon as Perceptor rounded one of the tall shelving units, he almost tripped. His pede had unexpectedly bumped into something that he knew should not have been there -- something that was unusually large and heavy.
He immediately looked down, and...oh.
That was actually Brainstorm himself that Perceptor had apparently very nearly stepped on, as the teal flier was currently lying there on the floor. The very nanoklik that the panicking microscope finally laid his optics upon the supine form of his lover, his frame suddenly froze in place, and it felt like each and every one of his internal processes all just stalled instantaneously. Once he eventually remembered how to properly vent again, he quickly rebooted his optics -- but even still, he disbelievingly beheld the same, unchanging vision.
...oh.