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Already Broken	By : Breech_Loader Category: Transformers > G1 > AU/AR Views: 3421 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
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- 8
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Already Broken

Co-Written by Harley Quinn hyenaholic and Red Alert

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Harley: Finally we’ve written the technical pairing for this fanfic! It’s not Bumblebee, by the way. If you’ll look, it’s now up in the Summary!

Red Alert: Everybody’s kind of miserable, so relationships take a while to get started, let alone get to the sex and start being happy. For once, you feel sorry for Tracks. Well, sort of.

Harley: And Anorexia Transformerosa works so much! Provided, of course, that you let it.

~~~

Chapter Seven: Gotta Hope Enough

Sunstreaker was sat in his quarters sulking - again - over the events of the past few days. It was depressing. He'd gone and practically sold himself to Bumblebee and then almost done it again to Tracks. It was only that jerk away that had saved him making a fool and an easy mech out of himself. Sunstreaker stretched out on his berth to glare at the adjacent wall, his optics dim and lifeless.

He felt weak and pathetic and vulnerable. How low must he have sunk, to just... whore himself out like that? He had been adamant in that he would stay in Bumblebee's quarters and rest, nothing more than that, but look what had gone and happened! He buried his face in his pillows and pounded the berth with one fist, infuriated with himself. What must he have come across as? Desperate and deprived?

Elsewhere, in Tracks' quarters, the blue mech was also feeling rather down. He wasn't sure what he'd done to Sunstreaker to make him so jumpy and nervous, just that Sunstreaker seemed to despise himself and even just being touched. And there was something seriously wrong with him if he was training for hours and then vomiting Energon.

Sunstreaker wouldn't think that, though. Tracks knew the Lamborghini would just complain and act all bitter, probably out of spite. He'd ignore everything he said, kick up a huge fuss over being taken to Ratchet, and then Tracks would end up being hated. As much as he liked the yellow twin he didn't know what was best for him - keeping quiet and trying to gain his trust, or grassing and losing what he already had.

Not that he had much with the yellow mech anyway. Tracks sighed. What if Sunstreaker started really hurting himself? Not just with the over-training and throwing up, but really damaging himself? He couldn't let the Lamborghini do that. But if he lost Sunny's trust, he probably wouldn't be able to get it back.

No, scratch that - he WOULDN'T get it back. He'd come close enough to ruining things already and he had no intention of making things worse, at least not on purpose. Tracks sat and gazed into nowhere for a while, his mind blank - this was all too confusing. For the sake of Sunstreaker's health the med bay was the best place to go. For the sake of any desired relationship, the med bay was the place best avoided.

Tracks sighed and stood up. He had to help Sunstreaker somehow. Even if he had to beat some intelligence into the yellow mech.

Sunstreaker was still lying sulking on his berth, face buried in his pillows. He had his fists curled lightly around his head as if to protect himself, legs sprawled all out in an attempt to get comfortable. Truth be told he was exhausted. He wanted to sleep. But he couldn't, not with the images of Tracks and Bumblebee and Sideswipe still stuck, crystal-clear, in his mind.

Tracks knocked on the door to Sunstreaker's room, "Sunstreaker?" he called out, listening hard, "Are you in there? I just wanted to talk." Yeah, right, he thought. He wanted to do so much more than just talk. But talking was a start, if he could even get Sunstreaker talking to him.

"Go away," Sunstreaker muttered. Well, it sounded more like 'phuu awphay' due to the fact he had his face buried in three pillows, but he figured it would suffice.

"Sunstreaker, please," Tracks knocked again, "I wanted to apologise!" he tried, "If anything I said or did yesterday made you feel bad... you could at least tell me what it was!"

"Go away!" Sunstreaker hissed this time, his temper starting to mount again. Just as he was calming down... Primus frag it.

Tracks banged on the door again, "Are you damaging yourself in there?" he called out, his concern mounting. After witnessing what Sunstreaker was capable of doing to himself, he wouldn't be surprised.

It was then that Sunstreaker decided to test whether Tracks really did care for him or not. He wriggled round and onto his side, stopping to stare at the wall for a few moments, before calling out, "So what if I am?"

Tracks stopped for a moment, then rattled the doorknob. The door was locked. So he kicked the door instead. It put up a few protestations against the kicks, before being busted open, and Tracks rushed into the room, expecting to see Sunstreaker cutting himself with an energon blade or something.

But no - instead he was sat there with his head in one hand, looking almost mesmerised. He was staring owl-like at Tracks, as if weighing him up. So the Corvette DID care... to an extent at least. Sunstreaker grinned behind his fingers, admittedly feeling rather pleased with himself.

"You're not damaging yourself," Tracks said, sounding surprised. He took a cooling breath, "But you don't look exactly happy, either," he added, closing the broken door behind him, "Do you want to tell me what I did wrong yet?"

Sunstreaker cocked one optic ridge and narrowed an optic, now actually weighing Tracks up, "I'm fine." A pause, "At least, I was. Until you broke my fragging door."

"Hey, that can be fixed easily," Tracks looked at the busted lock, then glared back at Sunstreaker, "It's not like you spend much time in here, anyway. You spend all your time training or throwing up energon."

Sunstreaker's optics snapped up to glare daggers at Tracks upon hearing this, "You wouldn't be joking around if it were YOU in my shoes!" He stood up, albeit a little weakly, "Get out!"

"Who's joking?" Tracks asked, "Every time I tell you that I want to help you, you just say, "That's what whoever said!" and burst into tears!"

"Get OUT," Sunstreaker's tone was dripping with hatred more and more with every word that spilled out of Tracks' mouth, "Now!"

"And leave you to hurt yourself some more?" Tracks ground his teeth, "Fine! I don't care! I'll just leave you to get on with whatever self-destructive past-time you have planned, and get on with my own life!" The blue mech turned away and opened the broken door, although opening it was pretty worrisome now since most of the lock was all over the floor.

Whether it was out of spite or pure impulse he didn't know, but Sunstreaker stood up and stormed into his own washracks, not bothering to close the glass door behind him. He pulled a childish face at Tracks before turning his back on him and disappearing from view. Probably to empty his tanks. Out of spite.

Tracks was by now just feeling really, really pissed at Sunstreaker. As he leant on the wall outside the door, he was certain that Sunny was doing something self-harmful just to fragging spite him, right now, but he wasn't even sure if going back in was the right thing to do any more.

He was sure he wouldn't like what he'd see, especially after last time. The mental image that situation had left was just too awful - it made him feel anxious and queasy just thinking about it, let alone seeing it happen again. But this was for his friend's - and fellow soldier's - own health and safety. Tracks wondered briefly if it was his responsibility to keep his teammates in check.

But then again... he had said he was leaving. But that was because he got mad. He couldn't just let Sunstreaker hurt himself because of that. He walked back into the room and headed for the washracks.

He didn't know what he hoped to see. Sunstreaker leaning against the wall and grinning with mocking directed at him, quite literally ASKING to be smacked upside the head for being deceiving like that? Bent over again, emptying his tanks as he'd been doing earlier? Sat in a pool of his own bodily fluids..?

Tracks hissed between his teeth, "What is this? Do you think this is a game, Sunstreaker?" Suddenly angered, he slapped Sunny's cheek sharply. It wasn't hard enough to dent, but it stung.

Sunstreaker stumbled a few steps back, spluttering angrily this time, "It was just a test!! Primus, Tracks!"

"A test of what? Of how much you can muck around with my feelings?" Tracks asked, "Or maybe you just want to pull this enough times that I'll leave you alone and not come to check when you are hurting yourself!"

"No," Sunstreaker snapped, "It was to check whether anybody cares or not!"

"Well, I do care!" Tracks replied, "And I'm sick of you trying to convince me, and yourself, that you don't!"

"You just DID prove that to me." Sunstreaker hissed quietly, temper rising despite that revelation just there.

"And is it going to change a Primus-damned thing?!" Tracks shouted.

Sunstreaker raised his voice to match that of Tracks, "Probably not! It's just going to be one little slagging statistic on a datapad!!"

"Fine!" Tracks yelled, "Have it your way!" He couldn't explain his actions next. He was just so angry and sick of this... He leapt forward and piled into Sunstreaker, bringing the yellow mech to the floor. Without hesitating for a beat, he pressed his lips against those of Sunstreaker's again.

Sunstreaker hissed an angry muffled 'argh!' into Tracks' mouth, before ripping his lips away and snarling, "What in Primus' name d'you think you're doing!? Get off! OFF!!"

Tracks glared at Sunstreaker, pulling back a little, "You liked it last time!" he replied, "I know you liked it last time; you were kissing me back!"

"That was BEFORE you came in here-" Sunstreaker grabbed Tracks' shoulders and shook him hard, "-and tried to- to catch me in the act-"

"I wanted to keep you from hurting yourself!" Tracks shouted down at Sunstreaker, "How was I supposed to know it was all a stupid test, a trick to make me look stupid?!"

"It was a test to see if people CARED! Like I said earlier!" Sunstreaker hollered, "Look - just go away! Get out!"

"And I do care!" Tracks replied loudly. He stood up, getting off Sunstreaker and looking almost as unhappy as the Lamborghini felt. With a deep sigh, he turned away once more, leaving the washracks.

Sunstreaker hissed after him before slamming the glass doors to the washracks once again, so hard that they cracked, then pulling out the screwdriver he'd used to remove his steering wheel and side mirrors earlier on. He sat himself down up against the wall and pondered for a moment, flinging the screwdriver aside. He wanted to get shot of his front bumper this time. It was heavy and was better off in the scrap pile.

He pulled out a hidden, and rather large, Energon blade. Locating his bumper, which was really only important if he crashed, and Sunstreaker didn't believe he would crash, he started to remove the large slab of grey plastic. It hurt like slag. He bit down hard on his bottom lip, hard enough to draw Energon - but he pressed on anyway, trying hard to block out the sensation of his own oily bodily fluids oozing down over his chest and torso. Eventually he was sat in a little puddle of the stuff, and he still hadn't got rid of even half of the bumper.

Still cutting, a tiny part of him wished that Tracks would come back in and stop him. But that was unlikely, to say the least. Like picking at a scab, Sunstreaker managed to peel off a part of the front bumper. That was about a quarter of it he'd gotten rid of, but there was still the rest to go.

It was so, so painful - but Sunstreaker had to see through it, for the sake of his appearance and the little diet regime he had going on. He hissed in pain as he pulled less than gently on the second quarter. Feeling queasy and dizzy he sunk down the wall a little, starting to feel rather faint.

No. Better get it over with than do it slowly. Sunstreaker gritted his teeth and yanked at his bumper, which was by now hanging off his bodywork. With a stifled shriek of pain, this part of it was done. He slumped down the wall, the remainder of his energon leaking from his chassis. He hadn't eaten in days. He wasn't sure he even had the strength to drag himself over to the sink and vomit. He moaned and slumped over onto his front, energon-covered hands gripping at his stomach. This was worse than he'd first thought. How was he supposed to get repairs for where he'd ripped off his bumper? It was so slagging obvious he'd ripped it off himself. Ratchet wasn't stupid either - he'd notice the lack of seats, of wingmirrors, of steering wheel. This was bad - and that was putting it kindly.

Sunstreaker groaned again, and slumped forward. Oh well, it wasn't like he hadn't considered killing himself anyway.

~~~

Harley: There we go! Sunny’s really damaging himself now! And why aren’t you reviewing and replacing your reviews that jerk forced me to remove? If I hadn’t had to remove and replace them, I never would have.

Red Alert: In other news, Harley is now choosing the four Horsemechs of the Apocalypse! Famine, War, Pestilence and Death. Can you think who they should be? (requirements are that they are Transformers)
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