Fic: The Beacon
Title: The Beacon
Notes: Transformers movie-verse, bad end AU.
Warnings: ...it's the bad end. Prepare to wibble.
---
There are happy days, though they are precious few and far between.
His daughter is nearing seven years old - seven! - and even so she's not too old to crawl into her daddy's lap and demand a ride. And Will is not too old to oblige her happily, and he haphazardly steers the wheelchair between cots and soldiers and civilians and Autobots to cries of "Faster! Faster!"
The medic scolds him, tells him to be careful, but Annabelle laughs and Ratchet's words lose their heat. A smile crosses his faceplates - one that's catching, even to the battle-worn old soldier standing off to the side. (Though the only indication Ironhide gives that he is at all amused is a slight snort and even slighter smirk, but Will knows the Autobot well enough to know what that means.) Leo, for his own part, has a momentary freak-out cultivating in "Don't you dare go crashing into my computers!", while Epps accuses him of hotdogging - to which Will responds with his best one-fingered salute, and Sarah appears from nowhere to give her husband a sharp smack on the back of the head and a "What if your daughter picks up on that?" He only offers her a lopsided grin as she helps Annabelle from his lap.
The smiles are fleeting, however. Even as Annabelle inquires of her mother, all-too-innocently, "Picks up on what?", Will catches the look on his friend and fellow soldier's face, and he can tell Epps is thinking the same thing he is: One day that little girl is going to have to learn how to fight. She'll have to learn how to use a gun. All she knows is war, and - if they can't fix this - all she'll ever know is war, and it's not fair.
And then, hours later, Annabelle emerges from a darkened corner of the base, leading a yellow mech by the hand.
And Will thinks that maybe there's hope for them yet.
Notes: Transformers movie-verse, bad end AU.
Warnings: ...it's the bad end. Prepare to wibble.
---
There are happy days, though they are precious few and far between.
His daughter is nearing seven years old - seven! - and even so she's not too old to crawl into her daddy's lap and demand a ride. And Will is not too old to oblige her happily, and he haphazardly steers the wheelchair between cots and soldiers and civilians and Autobots to cries of "Faster! Faster!"
The medic scolds him, tells him to be careful, but Annabelle laughs and Ratchet's words lose their heat. A smile crosses his faceplates - one that's catching, even to the battle-worn old soldier standing off to the side. (Though the only indication Ironhide gives that he is at all amused is a slight snort and even slighter smirk, but Will knows the Autobot well enough to know what that means.) Leo, for his own part, has a momentary freak-out cultivating in "Don't you dare go crashing into my computers!", while Epps accuses him of hotdogging - to which Will responds with his best one-fingered salute, and Sarah appears from nowhere to give her husband a sharp smack on the back of the head and a "What if your daughter picks up on that?" He only offers her a lopsided grin as she helps Annabelle from his lap.
The smiles are fleeting, however. Even as Annabelle inquires of her mother, all-too-innocently, "Picks up on what?", Will catches the look on his friend and fellow soldier's face, and he can tell Epps is thinking the same thing he is: One day that little girl is going to have to learn how to fight. She'll have to learn how to use a gun. All she knows is war, and - if they can't fix this - all she'll ever know is war, and it's not fair.
And then, hours later, Annabelle emerges from a darkened corner of the base, leading a yellow mech by the hand.
And Will thinks that maybe there's hope for them yet.