All Connected: G1 Beachcomber, G1 Swindle
Mar. 30th, 2011 07:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ayngelcatTitle: All Connected
Universe: G1
Rating: PG 13
Characters: Beachcomber, Swindle
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, or any of the characters or scenarios from the series within this story.
Prompt: #1 : "Death is terrifying because it is so ordinary. It happens all the time." - Susan Cheever
Notes: Substitute verse. Continuing the headcanon that Beachcomber 'restored' the ex-electrum pool to a clearwater paradise after The Golden Lagoon. This is set after that episode but before BOT and the spare parts incident, after Swindle 'leaves' the Combaticons, but before he gets ‘replaced.’ He finds himself in Beachcomber's company, at the lagoon. (Groove also frequents the lagoon much, although isn’t here in this. )
ALL CONNECTED
Puffy clouds dotted the blue sky as a gentle breath of wind moaned across the clearing, rippling the clear waters of the once electrum pool.
The saplings Beachcomber had planted swayed, gently, as rabbits darted among the patches of sunshine, hiding in the grasses, peering out. They were not entirely happy with yet another huge mechanical visitor dangling metal feet in the pool, especially one who was much the same color as the others had been when they were coated in electrum . But they had enough trust in the big blue robot sitting beside him - the one who had restored their home - not to run away.
The yellow robot let out a long, melancholy sigh. “Yeah - I blew it,” he said. “You see - before the war and everything, I just wanted to be part of Onslaught's outfit, Beachcomber. It was better for me in a lotta ways. The guy had a lotta contacts, see? And there was a solid retainer, no more chance your aft starve if no-one wants to buy anything. No – it was a guaranteed cashflow.”
Beachcomber nodded, thoughtfully, watching the shadows from the small, high clouds in the blue sky dapple the valley in shades of brown and green. A sweet , rich organic scent filled the air and from the woods beyond came a distant twittering, as birds flitted between the trees. What Swindle talked about was so far from the blue mech’s own operandi, that he could barely relate to it.
But Beachcomber could sense the distress in the yellow mech, and he was programmed, in the interests of universal harmony, to try and fix it up – whoever the victim. Besides, Swindle had - to the best of his knowledge – never done anything specifically to him.
“It wasn’t just that, mind. It was - exciting. Working with them,” Swindle went on. ”Especially …” he sighed, “ especially him. Vortex, I mean. Yeah – him a lot - but all of them, really. And then they got caught, and I coulda taken off then, in fact, yeah - I was gonna. But I didn’t, see? Cos - well, there were a loada reasons, Beachcomber, but it was a lot because I wanted to stay with them an’ take what was coming as one of them.“
“Didn’t think it would ever be that long, mind!” The jeep gave a short laugh. “Didn’t think we were all gonna be banged up for half of eternity. But well - waddya know? It came to an end, didn’t it? An' I'm in this gestalt with them. I thought: Well hey, Swindle there you go, you just got what you always wanted. Except ….”
Swindle’s expression turned sad again. “I had to go an’ frag it up, didn’t I? An’ now I wish I hadn’t." He looked at his feet, distorted in the clear water. “You probably think this is a load of pit, mind. Coming from me.”
Beachcomber's expression remained unchanged, but when he spoke his voice was kindly, and tinged with the wisdom of one who has traveled far and wide, and seen much tragedy, but has never given up on the quest to somehow see the good in things. As good there always was. “We all have our side we show to the universe an’ our side we don’t, Swindle,” he said gently.
“Yeah well - I wasn’t gonna do you know what, you know!” Swindle went on. “I wasn’t gonna sell them. At first I told that squishy I wanted parts to fix them. But then, the bastard wanted a fortune, an no-one was prepared to pay. An’ then I was thinking, how they hadn’t been that nice. Like – accusing me of putting them in that box - when I was the one tried to get them out! And then, I was in this mindset that - well - working for Onslaught was one thing, but tied to them physically for all eternity? Kinda - not what I was programmed for. So I just thought well yeah, take the money and run, Swindle. “
“But now – “ he sighed. “Vortex and Blast wanted to kill me. An’ now I think Onslaught's gonna cut me loose, Beachcomber. An’ I don’t wanna be cut loose! I dunno Beachcomber. What got into me! I got a far better chance here of making it tied to them than I do on my own.”
Swindle sounded most unhappy, now. Beachcomber laid a hand gently on his arm. “Like, I said we all got different sides,” he said. “You got your independent side - the one where your programming tells you to look after yer own hide – an’ your side that wants to be a part o’something. Hazard a guess you always been in the middle o’that dilemma, Swindle.”
Swindle felt unaccustomedly emotional at the kindness in the blue mech, at the uncanny accuracy of his words. It made him want to blurt a whole load of stuff out, helped along by a feeling of what the hell did it matter anyway? “I don’t wanna be an ex-Combaticon, Beachcomber. I gotta face the whole of the rest of my life now without them, “ he said bitterly. “I wish it hadn’t happened!”
Beachcomber slid an arm around the smallest Combaticon and gave him a gentle hug. “Yeah, I know," he said softly. "But can’t turn the clock back, Swindle."
……………………………
It was now late in the day, and the afternoon sun cast long shadows over and around the pool. There was a flapping of wings and quack-quacking, and two ducks came splashing their way in to land on the surface of the pool. Swindle looked up to see others on the opposite bank. Then they skittered, as a deer arrived, creeping its way nervously between them, and looking tentatively around before leaning down to drink. There seemed to be more rabbits beyond, and a flock of very small, colored birds appeared suddenly, flitting over their heads.
Swindle looked up at them, following their path as they circled and fled back towards the woods. “You know, those things are safe here," he said. "But away from here, they die real easy. You know - they kill each other. Squishies shoot 'em. Or they get run over. Death happens all the time with them. It’s almost scary, because it’s so ordinary. But they don't seem to give a pit."
"You probably don't like me talkin' about them like that!" he added.
The blue mech chuckled, amused rather than affronted. “Well now - I reckon some of em do give a pit!" he said. "But all things die eventually. It’s just as commonplace among robots – believe me! We just take a bit longer about it."
Swindle frowned, circling a foot in the water as the ducks swam happily, a few feet away. "Yeah well - I reckon death ain't a big deal because they're like - connected." he said. "Part of each other. I reckon that's why dying was a big deal for me. Why I wouldn't just let them kill me. Now the gestalt's gone,I'm not gonna be a part of anything. Ever again. If I die I'd count for nothin' to anyone, So I gotta stay alive and make it alone."
Beachcomber let out a sigh. He found himself deeply saddened by what, to him, was such a bleak evaluation. He wondered if Decepticons were programmed to think like that, if that was why so many fought so fiercely for their self preservation. It made him despair that there could ever be any hope of ending the war. But he remembered how this valley and pool, and the little earth animals and birds had helped reaffirm his belief, his faith. Made him able, now, to try and help others as it and they had helped him.
He took a deep intake. "Sure, you're right about the connections," he said gently. "And don't think they don't feel it if one dies but yeah, life goes on because o'those connections. And these little mites – they're tiny, and not built to last. So they got all their connections here on Earth. But Swindle. ..." he paused, "everything in the universe is connected, Not just th'little animals here."
"We're bigger, not so many of us, and more long lasting," he went on. "But that just means - our connections - they span long distance. Somethin' happens to one of us here, our kind always feel it – maybe close by, maybe light years away. But there ain’t never a death without a big ripple goin’ through someone, somewhere. So - you see Swindle - what I'm tryina say is - we're all part of something. We all count as our own selves, sure. But we don't have to be in a gestalt to be a part of the whole."
"Now that don't mean you shoulda gone an' died!" he added. "Hell, mech! You got a load goin' for ya - just every one of us in our own way. But it does mean you don't have to go through life bein' scared of death just cos of some notion you're gonna be alone."
Swindle felt the afternoon sun warm his panels, sensed the niceness, the uncomplicatedness, and wanted to accept the simple logic of this mech. But Beachcomber was so different from himself – or what he was used to. He looked down, not wanting Beachcomber to see the emotion which again welled in his optics, and managed to whisper only: “I don’t wanna be part of some mechs lives on the other side of the galaxy. I wanna be part of the Combaticons!”
“Yeah, I know," Beachcomber said, gently. "That’s just how it is right now. No changing that Swindle. But hey - you just promise me you'll think on what I said. And maybe y’just stay here with us a little while, an’ sort your head out, huh?”
Swindle shuttered his optics, absorbing the sounds of evening and the sweet scents of the valley.
“Perhaps,” he muttered.
Universe: G1
Rating: PG 13
Characters: Beachcomber, Swindle
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, or any of the characters or scenarios from the series within this story.
Prompt: #1 : "Death is terrifying because it is so ordinary. It happens all the time." - Susan Cheever
Notes: Substitute verse. Continuing the headcanon that Beachcomber 'restored' the ex-electrum pool to a clearwater paradise after The Golden Lagoon. This is set after that episode but before BOT and the spare parts incident, after Swindle 'leaves' the Combaticons, but before he gets ‘replaced.’ He finds himself in Beachcomber's company, at the lagoon. (Groove also frequents the lagoon much, although isn’t here in this. )
ALL CONNECTED
Puffy clouds dotted the blue sky as a gentle breath of wind moaned across the clearing, rippling the clear waters of the once electrum pool.
The saplings Beachcomber had planted swayed, gently, as rabbits darted among the patches of sunshine, hiding in the grasses, peering out. They were not entirely happy with yet another huge mechanical visitor dangling metal feet in the pool, especially one who was much the same color as the others had been when they were coated in electrum . But they had enough trust in the big blue robot sitting beside him - the one who had restored their home - not to run away.
The yellow robot let out a long, melancholy sigh. “Yeah - I blew it,” he said. “You see - before the war and everything, I just wanted to be part of Onslaught's outfit, Beachcomber. It was better for me in a lotta ways. The guy had a lotta contacts, see? And there was a solid retainer, no more chance your aft starve if no-one wants to buy anything. No – it was a guaranteed cashflow.”
Beachcomber nodded, thoughtfully, watching the shadows from the small, high clouds in the blue sky dapple the valley in shades of brown and green. A sweet , rich organic scent filled the air and from the woods beyond came a distant twittering, as birds flitted between the trees. What Swindle talked about was so far from the blue mech’s own operandi, that he could barely relate to it.
But Beachcomber could sense the distress in the yellow mech, and he was programmed, in the interests of universal harmony, to try and fix it up – whoever the victim. Besides, Swindle had - to the best of his knowledge – never done anything specifically to him.
“It wasn’t just that, mind. It was - exciting. Working with them,” Swindle went on. ”Especially …” he sighed, “ especially him. Vortex, I mean. Yeah – him a lot - but all of them, really. And then they got caught, and I coulda taken off then, in fact, yeah - I was gonna. But I didn’t, see? Cos - well, there were a loada reasons, Beachcomber, but it was a lot because I wanted to stay with them an’ take what was coming as one of them.“
“Didn’t think it would ever be that long, mind!” The jeep gave a short laugh. “Didn’t think we were all gonna be banged up for half of eternity. But well - waddya know? It came to an end, didn’t it? An' I'm in this gestalt with them. I thought: Well hey, Swindle there you go, you just got what you always wanted. Except ….”
Swindle’s expression turned sad again. “I had to go an’ frag it up, didn’t I? An’ now I wish I hadn’t." He looked at his feet, distorted in the clear water. “You probably think this is a load of pit, mind. Coming from me.”
Beachcomber's expression remained unchanged, but when he spoke his voice was kindly, and tinged with the wisdom of one who has traveled far and wide, and seen much tragedy, but has never given up on the quest to somehow see the good in things. As good there always was. “We all have our side we show to the universe an’ our side we don’t, Swindle,” he said gently.
“Yeah well - I wasn’t gonna do you know what, you know!” Swindle went on. “I wasn’t gonna sell them. At first I told that squishy I wanted parts to fix them. But then, the bastard wanted a fortune, an no-one was prepared to pay. An’ then I was thinking, how they hadn’t been that nice. Like – accusing me of putting them in that box - when I was the one tried to get them out! And then, I was in this mindset that - well - working for Onslaught was one thing, but tied to them physically for all eternity? Kinda - not what I was programmed for. So I just thought well yeah, take the money and run, Swindle. “
“But now – “ he sighed. “Vortex and Blast wanted to kill me. An’ now I think Onslaught's gonna cut me loose, Beachcomber. An’ I don’t wanna be cut loose! I dunno Beachcomber. What got into me! I got a far better chance here of making it tied to them than I do on my own.”
Swindle sounded most unhappy, now. Beachcomber laid a hand gently on his arm. “Like, I said we all got different sides,” he said. “You got your independent side - the one where your programming tells you to look after yer own hide – an’ your side that wants to be a part o’something. Hazard a guess you always been in the middle o’that dilemma, Swindle.”
Swindle felt unaccustomedly emotional at the kindness in the blue mech, at the uncanny accuracy of his words. It made him want to blurt a whole load of stuff out, helped along by a feeling of what the hell did it matter anyway? “I don’t wanna be an ex-Combaticon, Beachcomber. I gotta face the whole of the rest of my life now without them, “ he said bitterly. “I wish it hadn’t happened!”
Beachcomber slid an arm around the smallest Combaticon and gave him a gentle hug. “Yeah, I know," he said softly. "But can’t turn the clock back, Swindle."
……………………………
It was now late in the day, and the afternoon sun cast long shadows over and around the pool. There was a flapping of wings and quack-quacking, and two ducks came splashing their way in to land on the surface of the pool. Swindle looked up to see others on the opposite bank. Then they skittered, as a deer arrived, creeping its way nervously between them, and looking tentatively around before leaning down to drink. There seemed to be more rabbits beyond, and a flock of very small, colored birds appeared suddenly, flitting over their heads.
Swindle looked up at them, following their path as they circled and fled back towards the woods. “You know, those things are safe here," he said. "But away from here, they die real easy. You know - they kill each other. Squishies shoot 'em. Or they get run over. Death happens all the time with them. It’s almost scary, because it’s so ordinary. But they don't seem to give a pit."
"You probably don't like me talkin' about them like that!" he added.
The blue mech chuckled, amused rather than affronted. “Well now - I reckon some of em do give a pit!" he said. "But all things die eventually. It’s just as commonplace among robots – believe me! We just take a bit longer about it."
Swindle frowned, circling a foot in the water as the ducks swam happily, a few feet away. "Yeah well - I reckon death ain't a big deal because they're like - connected." he said. "Part of each other. I reckon that's why dying was a big deal for me. Why I wouldn't just let them kill me. Now the gestalt's gone,I'm not gonna be a part of anything. Ever again. If I die I'd count for nothin' to anyone, So I gotta stay alive and make it alone."
Beachcomber let out a sigh. He found himself deeply saddened by what, to him, was such a bleak evaluation. He wondered if Decepticons were programmed to think like that, if that was why so many fought so fiercely for their self preservation. It made him despair that there could ever be any hope of ending the war. But he remembered how this valley and pool, and the little earth animals and birds had helped reaffirm his belief, his faith. Made him able, now, to try and help others as it and they had helped him.
He took a deep intake. "Sure, you're right about the connections," he said gently. "And don't think they don't feel it if one dies but yeah, life goes on because o'those connections. And these little mites – they're tiny, and not built to last. So they got all their connections here on Earth. But Swindle. ..." he paused, "everything in the universe is connected, Not just th'little animals here."
"We're bigger, not so many of us, and more long lasting," he went on. "But that just means - our connections - they span long distance. Somethin' happens to one of us here, our kind always feel it – maybe close by, maybe light years away. But there ain’t never a death without a big ripple goin’ through someone, somewhere. So - you see Swindle - what I'm tryina say is - we're all part of something. We all count as our own selves, sure. But we don't have to be in a gestalt to be a part of the whole."
"Now that don't mean you shoulda gone an' died!" he added. "Hell, mech! You got a load goin' for ya - just every one of us in our own way. But it does mean you don't have to go through life bein' scared of death just cos of some notion you're gonna be alone."
Swindle felt the afternoon sun warm his panels, sensed the niceness, the uncomplicatedness, and wanted to accept the simple logic of this mech. But Beachcomber was so different from himself – or what he was used to. He looked down, not wanting Beachcomber to see the emotion which again welled in his optics, and managed to whisper only: “I don’t wanna be part of some mechs lives on the other side of the galaxy. I wanna be part of the Combaticons!”
“Yeah, I know," Beachcomber said, gently. "That’s just how it is right now. No changing that Swindle. But hey - you just promise me you'll think on what I said. And maybe y’just stay here with us a little while, an’ sort your head out, huh?”
Swindle shuttered his optics, absorbing the sounds of evening and the sweet scents of the valley.
“Perhaps,” he muttered.
