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Goop removal completed, Heatwave found himself very busy comforting Boulder. The younger bot was thankfully subtle, but the experience had terrified him. Chase on the other hand took comfort in being of assistance and proceeded to self-soothe at Heatwave’s side, seriously illustrating each point the firebot made with unintentionally hilarious examples. By the end of the night, Blades was giggling on the floor and Boulder was looking drowsy under a flannel-lined tarp. Chase leaned against Heatwave’s side, tucked safely beneath his leader’s arm.
“I believe,” Chase began, apropos of nothing, as they stared out at the stars, “that our human partners would do anything for us.”
It hit Heatwave hard, the knowledge that he also believed that the Chief would do anything for them. And Cody and Dani and Graham. More intense was the shock that came with realizing he did not believe the same of Kade. The fireman oscillated between a duty-borne sense of stubbornness and outright hostility when dealing with the bots, or more specifically, when dealing with Heatwave. Chase’s field extended in a soothing wash.
Unbidden, the Kade of that afternoon, hemmed in by the Squilsh, echoed in Heatwave’s processor. “Dad, I should be going–” and the way his father had shut him down. In the moment, the interaction had been less than important. Now, Heatwave wondered just what Kade had been intending to do. The blob monster had been impervious to all but high voltage alternating current, something the redhead did not possess. What could the idiot human possibly have had in mind?
Heatwave turned the problem over and over in his mind. ‘I’ not ‘we’; whatever it was had been for Kade alone. Surrounded by the growing slime there had been no one to impress; no girls to mug for, no cameras to hog, not even any compliments to fish for…
Fish.
The solution completely snowed Heatwave’s processor. Kade had intended to use himself as little more than a glorified hook on a line. The human had assigned himself the role of bait, to be cast into the depths of that thing in an attempt to pull its victims free. Not for Chase, who didn’t need to breathe, but for the lost human’s that very much did, Kade was disposable. Heatwave’s processor easily supplied a visual. Kade swallowed by combative alien goo. What he couldn’t imagine was the human reemerging, child clutched safely in his arms; not because it was such a hard image to conjure – Heatwave had seen Kade emerge from rivers, forests, and burning buildings, filthy but grinning, even more filthy child clinging to his neck, a dozen times over – but because it simply wasn’t possible, not this time. His fragile human partner would have been lost to that thing, fully believing it his duty.
Or maybe he believed that he would be hailed as some sort of martyr, a selfless hero to be immortalized as a statue beside his ancestor, remembered twice a year both for his birth and tragic death. That sounded more likely.
Another soothing roll of electromagnetics washed over Heatwave, underlaid with a buzz of inquiry. He held Chase a little tighter. “I think Kade was going to let that thing eat him.”
“I would not have been surprised.”
Heatwave suppressed a snort. “Thinks he’s some kind of damn hero.”
“Need I remind you, that however distasteful his personality, Kade is a hero?” If Chase was ever going to tell a joke, that would have been it. The thing was, Heatwave did need to be reminded, because Kade was distasteful. Charitably, so was Heatwave.
“Distasteful, huh?” What Heatwave did not need, was to admit that he’d forgotten hero came with the job description. “We sure are a pair, aren’t we?”
“Indeed.” Chase’s field wiggled with gentle humor. He would never make fun of someone, but he wasn’t above letting Heatwave do it to himself. “And both heroes.”
Maybe it was that Heatwave didn’t see himself as a hero. Fire was his job. It was there, he put it out. And on this planet, there was hardly any risk. It was Kade’s job, too. And with Heatwave around, there was hardly any risk to the human, except what the jerk himself manufactured. “I guess I just don’t see it.”
Chase was silent for a moment, his field still with contemplation as he selected his words. “Kade is fiercely protective of those he deems to be under his care.” That… might well have been true, Heatwave couldn’t say. He had difficulty reading the human. “The victims of the frequent emergencies on this island obviously fall into this category, at least until they have been rescued. I believe we Cybertronians also fall into this category when Kade deems it appropriate. His siblings, however, and even his father maintain a permanent ‘protected’ status.” That all seemed fair enough, if one was willing to give Kade the benefit of the doubt which Chase obviously was. “And you.”
And Heatwave what?
The firebot snorted. Kade was in no way protective of Heatwave. He didn’t bother to point that out to Chase. Heatwave always made it a point let the stickler maintain any attitude softening delusions he happened to develop.
“I believe you are too close to the situation to see the truth.” Chase never pulled his punches, that was for sure. This one landed right in Heatwave’s pride, but he was too curious about the blue bot’s logic to waste time being defensive. “Kade Burns has an alternative way of showing affection. He is also very insecure. That is why he fights with you.” Heatwave felt an optic ridge shoot up. “Kade does not feel that he can prove his competence to you, because you will always be more experienced than he.” A millennia-long life span would do that to you. “He offsets this fear with anger; a technique with which you are familiar.” Heatwave sincerely doubted that Chase had ever actually learned to pull his punches, and why would he? It was so much easier to gain a bot’s compliance after you had thoroughly decimated his ego.
Heatwave decided to answer with silence. Chase would continue if he had anything else to say. The two bots lapsed into a peaceful contemplation. It seemed impossible that Kade showed his ‘affection’ for Heatwave by yelling at him. The firetruck lifted his arm from around Chase, and the two bots pulled apart, transforming to rest more easily in their vehicle modes.
It had also seemed impossible that Kade would spend the entire night as Graham synthesized a cure fussing at Heatwave. He had wasted an extended period of time running his soft human hands over the viral crust on each of the bots, thinking that if he could pull it off it might slow down the progression of the disease. He had mumbled demands at his hands and the crust, calling his fingers stupid on multiple occasions. Slowly, as he worked on the firetruck, the mutters had become angry declarations of what the fireman would do if Heatwave wasn’t alright. All of which had been utterly illogical and progressively more nasty. It had culminated in the man hissing, ‘If you die, I’ll kill you myself,’ as he curled up on Heatwave’s rear step. The redhead had stayed there, a ball of warmth, until Cody had arrived to reassure the stricken bots. Heatwave had felt the man’s head turn, a small unfamiliar sensation, and a whispered ‘time to wake up,’ hot against his finish.
Kade had then gotten up and proceeded to argue pessimistically with Cody until the boy’s limitless hope had bullied him into submission. The redhead’s fatalist encouragement had stuck deep in Heatwave’s tanks.
The elevator descended, and by silent agreement, Chase and Heatwave both promptly pretended to be deep in recharge. Even to Cybertronian audials, the human’s approach was near silent. They waited tensely to see just who was sneaking about the firehouse at such a late hour. Kade appeared, padding barefoot across the concrete. He peered skeptically at the bots for a moment.
Picking up Chase’s favorite rag and a tin of soft wax, Kade approached the police car. “I hope this doesn’t wake you up,” the redhead whispered. Then he set about rubbing the sealant into each and every scratch, no matter how small. As the treatment continued, Chase’s placid field spread out wide, filling the room with drowsy energy.
Kade gained a contented smile as he worked. As he switched rags to polish Chase to a shiny finish, Blades crept over, settling with his arms around his knees to watch the human work. Heatwave continued to pretend recharge, wondering what had woken the helicopter without disturbing Boulder.
“I’m not actually afraid of heights,” Blades confessed quietly.
Kade hummed in acknowledgment.
The helicopter continued whispering, “My primary function was to climb meninszii trees and remove their branches to keep them from burning. It’s high, but it’s not flying. Now that’s my job and I have to do it.” Blades settled a more deeply behind his arms, voice dropping. “And this frame uses so much Energon that I can’t access my force fields.”
“Yeah,” the fireman commiserated, voice low and soft. “I’m afraid of the Pre And K, but I have to go there all the time.”
“Really? Why?”
“Fire safety is important, but you only really get good at it if you start young,” the redhead shrugged, purposefully misunderstanding. The guilt in Blades tightly held field flickered over to pity, but he accepted the deflection. After a beat, Kade added, “And it drives Heatwave nuts.”
Blades chuckled. “He wouldn’t be so grumpy about it if you helped him clean up.”
Cleansing Chase’s windows with something that smelled like limes, Kade said simply. “Heatwave doesn’t want this from me.”
“Sure, he does.”
“No. He doesn’t.”
Blades field bloomed sadness, but he let this topic idle, too. The mood was catching as Heatwave pondered Kade’s responses. Was the human really willing to be like this with him? Kade frowned mildly at Blades, expression a perfect match for Heatwave’s own muddy confusion.
“Why so glum, chum?” Kade picked up a bar of the purple grease used for Blades rotor assembly. The helicopter didn’t answer, field rolling back on itself with conflicting emotions. When the fireman appeared over Blades shoulder, he had developed a look of intense concern. “Lean forward,” he requested quietly. Beginning maintenance on the assembly, Kade switched to a conversational tone, “How tall are meninszii trees?”
“100 metrons, give or take.”
“And how tall are you?”
“Four.” Blades stiffened then sagged as Kade picked a large piece of grit from between his gears. “Well, this frame is a bit bigger.”
“This might hurt,” Kade muttered, bending close to his work. Field wavering, a pained noise escaped the helicopter. Kade continued their conversation, attempting to distract. “So, that would be like if I climbed a redwood?” The human leaned back, concentrating on pulling something Heatwave couldn’t see out in one long strand. “Man, this must be like pulling hair out of your throat.”
“Yes,” Blades made an uncomfortable noise, “and probably yes.” When the filament finally came free, Blades shuttered hard, sighing into a slump. He groaned, “That’s been driving me crazy for weeks. What was it?”
Kade held his hands up to the light. “Looks like fishing line.” He shook his hands at the ground until the filament floated down to the floor, nothing but a thin glitter in the air. A faint coppery tang reached Heatwave’s sensors. It wasn’t much, but it was fresh. The human had cut himself. “How did that even get in there?”
“I don’t know. Dani tried to reach it, but she said she couldn’t find it without her fingers getting stuck.” Kade made a noise Heatwave couldn’t interpret. “I figured it would break down eventually.” Blades yipped, flashing a look over his shoulder, the broad relief in his field studded with annoyance. “Why are you shoving your fingers between my gears, now?”
“Your rotor shaft is scored.” Kade yanked his hand free. “As far as I can tell, there’s no other damage.” He hopped down from the crate, snatching up a bottle of mesh-safe solvent in black stained hands. He tested it on himself, spraying the black from his hands until the liquid ran faintly pink with human Energon. Jagged scrapes ran the length of his first two fingers. He ignored the damage, instead spraying off the other hand. “Do I need something to scrub with?”
“That black stuff came out of me?” Blades field wavered with shimmers of horror. Kade just shrugged. “No, that’s how it works,” the helicopter conceded with a shudder.
The human climbed back up behind Sigma 17’s nominal medic. He thoroughly sprayed down the gear assembly. “You said you have force fields?”
“Had,” Blades lamented. He field went deeply wistful. “Mostly I shaped them into spikes to help me climb as I limbed the trees, but if I fell, I could curl up and wrap them around me. I’d bounce like a Ping-Pong ball instead of smashing on the ground.” Curls of humor swept through his field as Kade chased away the dark streaks the solvent runoff had left down the helicopter’s pale back. “We would do it on purpose when we actually managed to put out a fire; all of us at the same time.”
Kade chuckled, “Like somebody dropped a box of superballs?” He leaned companionably against the helicopter’s back, shaping the grease bar to fit between Blade’s gears. He grinned. “I can see that. Not Chase, though.”
Blades shook his head, field dimming. “I wasn’t a rescue bot back then.” Kade made an interested noise, but didn’t press. “I think Heatwave is the only one of us who was actually hatched to it.”
“Hatched?” The human turned back to Blades flight assembly, working deftly.
“Yeah. We– oh!” Blades groaned lowly, field suffusing with innocent bliss. “Wow, that feels good.”
Kade chuckled, smiling indulgently as he worked the grease. The human was quiet for several minutes, clearly enjoying the helicopter’s pleased noises. “Alright, you’re done.”
Blades made a disappointed sound but straightened up. He gave his rotors an experimental wiggle. A bright grin lit his face. “Hey, you’re pretty good at that.”
Kade shrugged. “I like working with my hands.” Kade walked towards Boulder before Blades could say anything about the shy flush on his cheeks. The human pondered the bulldozer for several long moments before seeking out a socket wrench. He loosened a treadplate, checking the seam, then disappeared into the supply closet.
Heatwave wondered what the human was up to. Graham had done an excellent job cleaning the squilsh out of any places too small for Boulder to reach. If he were honest, it had made Heatwave uncomfortable thinking about anyone but a conjunx doing the same for him, but… the humans hadn’t seemed to notice. After it was discovered that the ooze had not reached Boulder’s spark chamber, Chase had allowed the Chief to assist him as well. Heatwave had pushed back a cringe but quickly accepted the truth: the Sigma had never been intended for such long missions and wasn’t equipped with the necessary tools. They really would have to rely on the humans to clean beneath their seams. Fortunately, the blob hadn’t eaten Heatwave.
Kade returned with a bottle of special solvent, a bucket of old rags, and a bar of bright blue grease. One by one, he loosened Boulders tread plates. Heatwave and Blades watched with heighted curiosity as the redhead soaked a rag in the solvent which smelled, of all things, like radishes. Boulder would be fascinated by that, if he were awake. Whatever strange spell had taken over Kade tonight was one they certainly didn’t want to break. Heatwave continued to pretend to be asleep. It was possible that Chase actually was; his field was spread out low, utterly unmoving. Blades smiled down on the human, but didn’t move or make a sound, field filling the room like a mellow mist. For his part, Kade just smiled contentedly as he worked his way along the treads, removing grime and green goo, and applying blue grease before precisely tightening each plate.
As Kade prepared his seventeenth rag, he paused. The redhead leaned back on his heels with a cleansed sigh. He stretched his arms above his head, muttering, “That feels really good.” He worked methodically until both tracks were as clean is Boulder’s first day on Earth. Heatwave had never seen Kade so concentrated and productive. Normally he took breaks to eat, breaks to complement himself, breaks to annoy Heatwave.
For the very first time, Heatwave wondered what Kade had been like before the rescue bots’ arrival. Surely, this couldn’t have been a norm. But as Kade collected and disposed of the filthy rags scattered around Boulder, it seemed more and more believable.
Rubbing his hands clean on a radishy rag, Kade stopped to consider Heatwave. He picked up an aerosol can from the top of a rolling tool chest that stood nearby, eyes still trained on Heatwave’s side. If that jerk thought he was coming anywhere near Heatwave with spray paint he had another think coming!
Kade’s pleasantly focused expression dropped suddenly. He looked from Heatwave to the can and sighed, putting it back where he’d found it. The redhead looked wistfully over his partner’s apparently recharging form before turning away. The human padded out of the room just as quietly as he had come.
“Heatwave,” Blades scolded when the stairwell door clacked shut.
Hoping his ruse would hold, the firetruck continued to feign recharge. The mood in the bunker changed sharply when Blades’ field snapped at him, pointed with a sharp prong of anger. The older bot transformed, feeling inexplicably chastised where he sat.
“How did you know?”
Blades gave him an incredulous scowl. “Your field just went all nasty and defensive.” His expression shifted to concern. “I think you hurt Kade’s feelings.”
“The only person who can hurt Kade’s feelings is Kade,” Heatwave growled, careful not to wake their teammates. “Besides, humans don’t have fields.”
“I don’t know,” Blades hedged, looking out from their alcove into the main bunker, towards the humans.
“Face it: Kade just doesn’t like me.” Heatwave smothered the disappointment he felt with scorn before it could leak into his field, which was tumbling around him in an agitated ball. He reigned it in, clamping his field close while attempting to ignore the termagant look Blades was giving him.
“What’s going on?” Boulder asked, voice quiet and fuzzy as he emerged from recharge. Heatwave shot Blades an evil look, closely held rage nearly blistering his own finish. Boulder’s field rolled out full of muddled curiosity. The bulldozer transformed, pulling his tarp about his shoulders. “Blades?”
For a long moment, the helicopter didn’t answer, still busy piercing Heatwave with his glare. “Nothing,” he grumbled, turning away. Blades moved to the corner of the room, transforming with his tail rotor towards the room.
“Heatwave?” Boulder prompted cautiously.
“He thinks I upset Kade, but I didn’t say anything.” Why was Heatwave unloading his problems on Boulder? The younger bot already had plenty to deal with after the day he’d had. Heatwave was supposed to be the leader here.
“I’ll talk to him,” Boulder offered, standing carefully so as not to rouse Chase. “Oh!” he whispered. Clearly talking to himself, the bulldozer wondered, “When did that happen?” He moved his arms, causing his tracks to shift. “That’s nice.” Placing hand on Blades canopy, the green bot knelt next to him, surely switching to a private frequency to converse with their youngest.
It probably was nice, not like Heatwave would ever know. He quickly squashed his field, determined that anything even remotely resembling jealousy would absolutely NOT reach the younger bots.
“Heatwave?” Chase quietly requested the firebot’s attention, just as he was about to transform and put all this unfairness out of his head.
Slag it, he’d woken Chase! Heatwave responded uncertainly, “Yeah?” There was no way of knowing what Chase would say in a situation like this. Heatwave transformed, settling in for some much-needed recharge.
“You do this to yourself.” Chase’s brusque tone made it plain that this wasn’t a discussion. The blue bot was going back to recharge and Heatwave could deal with it.
Wrapping his field around himself like a pathetic duvet didn’t help matters. Heatwave tuned out his sensors, concentrating on the vastness of space to encourage sleep. It refused to come. His mind mulled over and over every minute of this night, trying to make sense of Kade. The copper haired human couldn’t possibly be electromagnetically sensitive. Could he?
Boulder bumped the tool chest as he shuffled back to his tarp nearly an hour later. Apparently, Kade had left his can of spray paint too close to the edge. It wobbled precariously for a long moment before toppling to the floor, rolling toward Heatwave. The bright yellow canister stopped, label staring mockingly at the firetruck.
Lemi Finish.
He’d seen the humans use what they claimed was furniture polish for everything from removing rust to shining brass to sealing leather. It was impossible to know what Kade had intended to do with it. Not that it mattered now. The jerk had apparently decided Heatwave wasn’t worth it.
Unless what Blades said was true. But… Kade couldn’t possibly have been reacting to Heatwave’s field. Humans did not work like that.
The memory of Kade’s suddenly dejected face taunted Heatwave as he once again tried to sleep. Had he been planning to do some sort of special maintenance for the firetruck, too? Had Heatwave’s field scared him off? Kade had looked so pensive when he arrived, but after a few minutes in the wash of Chase’s field, he had begun to smile. He’d become trusting in close contact with Blades’. But that was all coincidence. He certainly wasn’t displaying the same emotions as the bots. And humans didn’t work like that. It just… wasn’t possible.
Was it?