#HHHOH THIS IS INTENSE

[robomalus]

WELP guess who figured out a key part of Sticks’s backstory!! it’s me!! so here it is, the worst day of Sticks’s life, aka. the reason why everyone hates Aphelion aka. Sustain

The deep magenta of sunset spilled into whirling sand, a haze of light and particulate roughly the color of fresh energon. Sticks stared for a moment out the entrance of the cave, never one to miss the sun set. Their servos were wrapped around a dish of insect resin. Turns out ground insect exoskeletons and a bit of water turned into a paste that was ideal for filling cracked parts, creating splints, and even reconstructing plating if you got the mixture right. They sighed, tearing their optics away from the color to walk further back into the cave. Salvo shifted upwards as they passed, giving them a knowing nod before returning his gaze to the outside again, ever vigilant.

The Choir was quiet today. Sticks passed a lounging Burner, her gaze firmly on the ceiling, expression devoid of the usual smirk, only moving her optic to watch Sticks’s march inward. Bowline was recharging for the first time in weeks. She sat outside the entrance to the sickroom, humongous optic at last closed. Sticks smiled slightly at that, she deserved rest. Inside the room was rather spacious. Poultices, scavenged parts, and their energon supply lined the walls. A small window covered in netting looked out onto the desolate sandstorm. The shadows stretched long to complement the pinkish light that glinted ever-so-slightly on the still, solitary frame in the middle of the room. 

Sticks walked to them and knelt down. Aphelion was close to twice their size, their normal golden orange hue now much paler, almost purple in the light of the setting sun. Sticks took the bot’s servo in their own. Their wounds weren’t healing well. Cracks traveled up their chassis from an impact wound near their shoulder. Sticks had managed to reattach the limb but it seemed the structural damage was too much for Aphelion’s frame. They tapped a skeletal finger on the other’s servo, delicately so as to wake them up gently.

Aphelion didn’t respond. Their optics were closed. “Aphelion, I’m here,” Sticks murmured, “Wake up.”

Nothing. 

Sticks felt fear drip into their frame, “Aphelion...” They brought their servo to the bot’s face, gently, sweetly, “I’m here, wake up.”

Fear turned into panic, their optics flashed as they leaned down to put an audial near Aphelion’s chassis. Nothing, no sound of a spark.

Sticks shot upright, optics wide, sparking at the edges, “N-no-” panic caught their voice. They could barely think. Not them. Please not them. 

They ran to the walls, nearly tripping over themself, searching desperately, flinging Spade’s scrapped projects this way and that. Something must work. This cannot happen. They paused, panting. Their optics locked onto a pair of cables piled neatly in a corner, each ending in a clamp. Unlikely to work... Might kill you in the process... Dangerous. Dangerous. Dangerous... In theory it may be possible... The conversation echoed in their head. They grabbed the cables and rushed over to Aphelion’s frame. 

They’d thought about it before when they’d seen Spade restart a rudimentary combustion engine they’d managed to build. It was the reason they’d made the cables to begin with. Aphelion had called it jumpstarting, they’d seen it done with vehicles Earth. You use one working engine to start another. The engine had only needed a bit of a push to get going, why then shouldn’t a spark work the same way... In theory.

Whatever happened. They would not live in a world without Aphelion.

Sticks’s servos shook as they opened first Aphelion’s chassis and then their own, placing the clamps on either side of the spark chamber similar to how Aphelion described it. As they affixed the last clamp, a sharp wave of lethargy hit them. Their optics sparked. They fell over onto Aphelion’s frame, shuddering violently. The lethargy turned into dull pain, then stabbing pain. Their breath came in short, whimpering bursts as they felt their spark start to destabilize. Numbness creeped up their legs. They tried to regret it. It hurt. With death staring them in the face they lost their courage. All they could do was watch Aphelion’s face. If this was their last view, then so be it.

Very suddenly the pain began to subside. Sticks froze as amber optics flickered back to life, dimly at first, then gaining strength. Sticks took a deep, shuddering breath, “A-Aphelion?” Static blanketed their voice as they pushed themself up on a weak elbow. 

Aphelion’s piercing optics turned to Sticks, “What did you do.” Their voice was weak but ice cold.

Sticks pushed themself up a little further, confused at Aphelion’s glare, “oh-okay, we’re fine. I did it.” They vented heavily, their emotions dulled by the buzzing in their chassis, the overwhelming sensation of dread, like standing on a thin wire over a white-hot smelting pit.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” Aphelion screamed, panic in their optics as they flung themself over onto their other side with more strength than a nearly-dead bot should have. They followed the cable lines to Sticks, looked directly into their optics with a furious glare.

Sticks fell backwards, optics wide, mouth agape in pitiful, exhausted shock, “I... I brought you back.”

They didn’t understand, Aphelion was... they were angry.

Aphelion staggered to their pedes, their entire frame shaking in a noxious mixture of rage, panic, and sickness. They took a single uncoordinated step, bending over to regain their balance. When they looked back to Sticks, every ounce of the kindness they always seemed to keep within them was obliterated- substituted for blinding hatred. The cable was near its length.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Aphelion pushed off towards the window. One of the clamps on Sticks’s side slid off. There was a loud CRACK as the counter-surge tore through Sticks’s frame. Sticks watched, almost detachedly, as Bowline ran through the door to the sound of their scream. They felt their frame hit the floor. Their audials rang. Something inside them seemed to pop as their own hot energon leaked from their limbs. The last thing they saw before their vision crackled to black was the brilliant green and gold of Aphelion’s fluttering wings as they jumped through the window, carrying its mesh with them into the sandstorm.

...

The next time Sticks opened their optics, the room was bathed in blue light. They were where they were before. The room was cleaned up slightly, their helm propped up on a large piece of tarp. The only other bot in the room was Bowline, whose shadow stretched across them as she watched the two moons battle for glory of the evening sky.