touchscreens | [Video]

So you're a cerebroscientist now.

[he doesn't seem disturbed by that fact. It's what Tumbler wanted his whole life! But as for the war.]

...I'm... sorry you've had to suffer a war. For four million years. Four million? I can't even begin to think of what you've had to do to survive.

Can we speak in person? I don't want to continue speaking of something like this over a screen.

[Is he ready for that? Because even without the weirdness, he happens to be extremely angry at Prowl. He could just say no and try to end this all right here. It'd be easy. He has every reason to never want to see him again.]

I'm at one of the apartments. The first one.

[Prowl takes note that the people here seemed to have been considerate enough to place them about two or three doors down from each other. It isn't long before Chromedome gets a knock on the door.]

[He didn't usually push for a personal touch, but he made an exception for his partner. Prowl cares about him beyond a professional capacity.]

[Might as well get this over with. Chromedome sighs and opens the door, only to accidentally hit himself in the face with it. What's the point in doors that you have to open yourself? It's so pointless!]

Prowl.

[His voice is cool, distant. He stands back so Prowl can come inside.]

We've got a lot to talk about.

[Without thinking, a hand goes to his shoulder to try and comfort him as he steps in. Even back on Cybertron it wasn't often he offered physical comfort to anyone. Even his partner.]

I can't pretend to know what you've gone through, but I still want to work with you if I get a chance.

[Chromedome dismissively brushes Prowl's hand off of him. Faint feelings of disgust and anger come from the unasked for touch, and he wants no part in that.

He closes the door behind them.]

It's not going to work Prowl.

The less we see each other, the better off we'll be.

[Prowl might notice that Chromedome still refuses to look directly at him.]

I'm sorry, but that's just how it is. I don't expect you to understand but... it's for the best.

[The disgust was clear enough in the way Chromedome rejects his touch. He's not sure why, but he found his spark aching from that far more than the words that came out afterwards.]

I can't just.. just accept that.

[Chromedome may be avoiding eye contact, but he's going to try to get a good look at him anyway.]

You can't just start explaining to me and then decide to close off.

[It hurts to look at him. It hurts to talk to him. It hurts to know that this Prowl still has feelings towards him. Chromedome doesn't even know why he agreed to this meeting. It's not going to accomplish anything.

He won't look. Maybe if he doesn't look, he'll somehow not remember Prowl as he was. His memories of that time are less of a treasure, and more of an old trinket that he refuses to ever let go of.]

...

[This isn't meant to be easy.]

What exactly do you want me to say?

[His voice drops bitterly, and he crosses his arms defensively.]

Do you want me to tell you about the person you turn into? About the person I turn into? Do you want me to tell you what your future is? Because there's no happiness in it. None at all.

And some of it is your fault.

[This is all pointless though.]

But you said you trusted me, right?

What do I want you to - I just want you to talk to me! You're the one that said you had a lot to explain. Well I'm here, listening! And you're not making much sense!

[He's frustrated and hurt at this whole ordeal and he wasn't expecting to feel so furious about it.]

And yes, of course I do. I wouldn't be here if I doubted what you were saying - which, by the way, is much more far-fetched then that plot Orion dragged us into.

[Sorry Prowl, were you hoping for a straightforward response?]

Go and sit on the couch then.

I need to check something.

[He gestures towards the small couch in the middle of the living room.]

This'll only take a minute.

[Prowl approaches the couch, but doesn't sit. Namely because he's too angry to just go along with what Chromedome is saying without some sort of answer.]

[He'll just cross his arms instead.]

What'll take only a minute? Because a minute is passing and none of this is getting any clearer.

[There's a light slikt sound through the room, and Chromedome allows his needles to slide out. He stands there nonchalantly with his hand raised and several long, nasty looking needles stretching from his fingers. He gestures towards the couch again.]

Sit. I can promise you that this won't hurt.

I need to see if you're really you.

It'd be easier if you weren't.

Edited 2014-05-20 04:53 (UTC)

[Prowl may not know the intricacies of cerebroscience, but he knows a mnemosurgeon's needles and he knows what they're used for.]

[A key to his mind.]

[His hands squeeze angrily at the lack of trust in turn. He was being as open as he can. Far more than he'd ever been with anyone else - and this is what he gets as a response?]

[He stiffens and looks away. Under most other circumstances he would have refused on principle, but...]

Fine.

[A heavy weight finds itself on the couch, but he keeps his gaze fixated on the wall rather than Chromedome.]

Edited 2014-05-20 05:10 (UTC)

[Trusting someone completely and totally always leads to unnecessary pain. That's why one should always keep even their friends at a certain distance. It's important to care, but to not care too much.]

You're lucky I asked.

[He says quietly as he walks behind the couch. He gently places a hand on the back of Prowl's head and prepares his other hand for injection.]

I've done this a couple thousand times, and most of the time I've never needed anyone's consent to do it.

[With that chilling comment, he flexes his fingers and slides his needles carefully into the back of his neck.

From there it's a simple matter of flowing from his own mind into Prowl's, pulling himself into the other's consciousness until he's fully inside. Prowl's mind is cold and orderly, but Chromedome instantly notices a difference to it. There's a little bit of chaos here and emotions floating around. That, and there are 4 million years less memories than his old Prowl had.

That's all the proof he needs. There's no need to look further.

He does anyway.

But not for long.

The moment he comes across that emotion. That feeling that he yearns so much for, he withdraws. He doesn't need this.

He pulls out and takes a step back.]

I see. That's all I need to know.

[He's tired now. Tired and bitter and sad and just about every other emotion there is.]

Prowl... you're better off as you are now. Without me. As I said before, it's better if we stay apart.

I think you should leave now.

[Prowl didn't have time to react before he found his mind subsumed.]

[For him, the process was instantaneous and passive. It was more akin to being slipped into recharge for a few minutes. Chromedome was good at what he does - the extra venture into his thoughts and emotions went totally unnoticed.]

[When Prowl finally found himself pulled back into consciousness, he suffered from none of the fatigue Chromedome did.]

[There was a cataclysm of emotion, not from what he'd done, but from what he'd said shortly before doing the deed. Prowl is quick to slap his hand away from his neck as soon as he recovers some of his motor function.]

Get away from me.

[With his arms crossed tightly, he shakily gets to his feet.]

The person I knew - Tumbler - wouldn't say that. He wouldn't say any of this. He'd be appalled.

[The light shimmers slightly in his optics, but he's quick to look away. Now embarrassment was something he could add to the maelstrom in his spark right now.]

I hope what you found was worth it.

[He makes for the door.]

I know.

[He's almost tempted to just let it go. To leave it at that and call it a day. However, Chromedome doesn't feel like his point is driven home just yet.]

Before you go.

[He reaches up to stop him. To add to the moment, he even pulls Prowl into a brief hug before letting him go, his face hovering inches away from Prowl's own. This is the first time Chromedome's looked fully at Prowl since they started talking.]

I need you to understand one thing: I don't love you anymore. I don't even consider you a friend. Whatever you're hoping for isn't going to happen.

[Prowl is abruptly pushed towards the door and then roughly shoved out into the hall.]

If you want answers, go talk to Ultra Magnus.

Goodbye.

[A few moments earlier, the gesture would have been appreciated and welcomed. But now, Prowl was the one who could only feel disgust at the touch. He didn't reciprocate to say the least. He just stiffens in the embrace, and was three words away from pushing at him before Chromedome did the pushing for him.]

[He stumbles a bit as Chromedome drops more words like hot needles and shoves him out, too stunned at the whole affair to even reply with a scathing remark.]

[Prowl just leans against the wall, his systems and optics ablaze with rage and any number of emotions coursing through his body. His expression begins to fall apart as he breaks eye contact again.]

[He could only force himself to transform - barely fitting into the hallway, and rushing away.]

Edited 2014-05-20 06:54 (UTC)

[This should hurt. Chromedome feels like the look Prowl gave him should hurt a lot. Maybe it does, he feels too drained to tell anymore.

The door closes and he leans against it. Slowly, he slides down until he's sitting with an arm around his leg. The silence that Prowl leaves behind seems to be pushing down on him. His apartment is unnaturally darker too.

There are no thoughts swirling around in his mind. No emotions either. Just a bland hollowness that fills the entire room.

He just sits there, lost in whatever this was. There's no reason for him to move or go anywhere... he'll just stay here. For however long he needed to.]

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