Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“ALRIGHT MATES! STOW ALL LOOSE GEAR! THE WIND IS UP AND THE RAIN IS RIGHT BEHIND US!” Rodimus shouted.

“AYE! AYE! CAPTAIN!” a chorus of voices responded.

The Lost Light had raced across the open ocean with a mighty gale at her stern. They made it into the safety of Solus Cay without a moment to spare. Lightning flashed across the sky followed a heartbeat later by rolling thunder. The short time between them a sure indication of the storm’s imminent proximity.

As soon as the ship slipped through the natural rock breakers into the sheltered harbor, Rodimus steered towards their usual anchor point. The crew scurried about, working furiously through their tasks to ready the ship before the storm arrived. The first bunch had already completed lashing down the sails and were loading the tenders with empty supply casks to be filled ashore with food and water to fuel their next adventure.

Rodimus smiled. As soon as he figured out what it might be.

“Ahoy, Captain!” A familiar voice called from the rising sea.

Rodimus’ smile grew even broader. He raced to the ships railing and hung over the edge waving wildly. Bobbing in the boisterous surf were two distinct figures: one with a glittering tail of rainbow scales and the other with tiger striped shark fins. “Ahoy Thunders! Riptide! How’s it look down there?”

“Me and Riptide finished checking the anchor points. Both anchors are deep in the soft sand.” Thunderclash reported with a seriousness that made Rodimus giggle.

“The Lost Light isn’t going anywhere.” Riptide confirmed.

“Good to hear,” Rodimus nodded. “We can’t have our home setting sail without us, now can we?”

“No sir!” both Riptide and Thunderclash snapped into salutes. Thunderclash added a wink to his salute that made Rodimus’ insides soar like Thunderclash’s huge floppy hat born aloft on the breeze. Despite the color rising on his cheeks, Rodimus did his best to remember his captainly poise.

“Alright. Well done, gents. See you ashore?”

“Absolutely!” Thunderclash beamed.

“Not me.” Riptide shook his head and gestured over his shoulder to a nervous circle of shark fins, including the massive one that followed him everywhere. “Aside from walking about on land not being for me, I’ve got to get these dudes to deeper water before the surf gets any rougher. Megs especially hates being too close to shore in rough surf. See ya after the storm!”

“I’m gonna swim Riptide out of the harbor then meet you on the beach,” Thunderclash said.

“Don’t make me wait too long,” Rodimus grinned. “You know I hate getting stuck in the rain.”

“I wouldn’t think of it!” Thunderclash assured him. With of flick of his rainbow scaled tail, the merfolk disappeared beneath the rising waves.

Rodimus leaned over the ship’s railing and twirled his own magical pendant between his fingers, staring out across the sea in the direction Thunderclash dove. Despite the fact that they’ve now been on several adventures together, he still couldn’t believe that somehow Thunderclash swam his way back into his life.

After the tiny merfolk city of Nyon was destroyed by the eruption of an undersea volcano, Rodimus thought he’d never see Thunderclash again. Although Rodimus threw every ounce of his innate fire magic against the volcano, it wasn’t enough to save the city. Even though he knew Thunderclash was still rescuing survivors, Rodimus couldn’t hold back the flow of lava. As the city burned and boiled, Rodimus felt he failed his people on every possible level. He left his old home and his old life behind, never once looking back.

Rodimus changed his name and used a magical aquamarine pendant created by the mysterious mermage Brainstorm to trade his fiery golden fins for legs and create a new life above the waves. Through a series of misadventures he stumbled into the pirate life complete with a magnificent ship and a ragtag group of misfits that were slowly growing into more family than crew. But even the vast changes of his circumstances didn’t dissuade Thunderclash.

Although Rodimus thought Thunderclash died in the cataclysm, the seemingly indestructible merfolk survived, with the scars to prove it. Thunderclash got his own magic pendant and never gave up searching for Rodimus. Against all odds, and rather fitting for a pirate captain, a treasure quest for their “heart’s desire” brought them back together at last.

“OI!!! CAPTAIN!” A loud voice startled Rodimus out of his memories.

“Don’t yell, Whirl.” Another voice calmly chided.

“If i don’t yell, he won’t hear me,” Whirl grumped. “As I was saying: OI! CAPTAIN! YOU COMIN” ASHORE WITH US OR YOU SWIMMIN’ OUT TO SEA WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND??”

Rodimus shook his head and turned around to see Whirl, Cyclonus and Tailgate waiting in the last long boat.

“Are all the empty supply casks already ashore?” Rodimus asked, stunned by his crew’s uncharacteristic efficiency.

“Yep!” Tailgate proudly proclaimed. “Ultra Magnus said we could all go to Swerve’s Tavern as soon as we finished offloading.”

Rodimus laughed. There it was. His crew could accomplish anything they set their minds to, especially if properly motivated.

“Yeah. And everyone else is already there, getting a start on the drinking competition!” Whirl grumbled. He angrily adjusted his leather eyepatch with one of his hook hands.

“Not everything needs to be a competition, Whirl.” Cyclonus sighed.

“Sounds like something a loser would say,” Whirl teased before rounding on Rodimus. “So are you coming or not??”

“Did you wait for me?” Rodimus asked. He worried his magic pendant. Although Thunderclash never hid his true identity, Rodimus still struggled with the anxiety that his crew might not accept his being different from them. “Even though you know I am a merfolk.”

“Of course! We’re not gonna leave our captain!” Tailgate replied with a shrug. “We know you could swim, but maybe you don’t want to get wet or something.”

“Thanks, guys,” Rodimus wiped at his face. Probably it was just the seapray stinging his eyes. He grabbed his duffle bag and tossed it to the boat. He ran his hand fondly along the Lost Light’s railing, giving it a gentle farewell pat. “Let’s head ashore for some well deserved rest.”

“And Dark and Stormys!” Whirl shouted.

“Like the weather?” Tailgate asked.

“No, Shortstack! Like the drink!” Whirl waved one hook dramatically at the sky. “Named because it’s the color of a cloud only a fool or a dead man would sail under. Trust me you’ll love them!”

“Woo hoo! Sounds amazing!” Tailgate whooped. “I bet I can drink more of them than you!”

“You’re on!” Whirl grinned. Lightning flashed overhead but couldn’t match the intensity in Whirl’s single golden eye.

A raging hurricane may be at their heels, but the untamed wildness of the storm had nothing on the party about to erupt at Swerve’s.

Cyclonus narrowed his aubergine eyes. Rodimus laughed and hopped aboard.

Tailgate set to rowing the boat in time with the rising and falling of the waves all by himself, joining Whirl in belting out a bawdy sea shanty. Cyclonus sat in the prow, like a serene statute of carved amethyst. Despite the howling wind, his hair remained immaculately coiffed. Rodimus supposed there might be some truth to Thunderclash’s suspicions that the crew of the Lost Light was made up of truly unique individuals, with more than a few having some supernatural abilities of their own.

With a few powerful strokes, Tailgate had propelled the long boat across the turbulent harbor waters like a skipping stone. They dragged the boat across the sandy beach and lashed it to the palm trees far from the rising surf. As they strolled towards town, Rodimus turned back for one last glimpse of the Lost Light. Her sails safely secured, her masts stood tall and proud against the roiling gray green clouds. He waved, a little reluctant to let his new home leave his sight.

“Well, mon capitiane?” Whirl slung an arm casually around Rodimus’ shoulders. “What will it be for you?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Rodimus answered.

“Let’s go make up your mind!” Whirl tugged him along.

“You go ahead.” Rodimus wriggled out of Whirl’s grasp. “I’m gonna wait for Thunderclash.”

“Very well,” Cyclonus respectfully inclined his head. He gently guided the other two towards the tavern lights’ warm glow.

“I’ll order something for you! So it’s ready when you get there!” Whirl cackled.

“NO! Please! That’s really not necessary-” Unfortunately his protests were drown out by Whirl’s raucous laughter. Rodimus had no idea what Whirl had in mind, but it would probably give him a massive headache.

Rodimus shook his head. No doubt some strange drink would be awaiting his arrival at Swerve’s.

He leaned against a low stone wall and watched the crashing surf. Thunder rumbled. Lightning bolts streaked across the sky, branching violet lights so bright their afterimages swam in front of his eyes. Rodimus blinked away the ghostly lightning bolts and scanned the horizon. A gray veil of rain had already obscured the rocky islands that marked the route to Solus Cay. They only had a few more minutes before that wall of water slammed into the town.

Right on cue, Rodimus noticed a large familiar shape in the surf. Thunderclash rode the waves all the way to shore and hefted himself onto the beach with one powerful swish of his tail. His rainbow scales gleamed in the darkling light for a split second before the magic pendant did it’s work. Light as bright as the sun’s first rays engulfed Thunderclash and when it faded, his magnificent mer-features had been transformed into regular human anatomy.

“Roddy!” Thunderclash enthusiastically waved as he jogged across the sand as naked as the day is long. He skid to a stop next to Rodimus, breathing hard with an infectious grin. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” Rodimus raised a brow and nodded towards Thunderclash’s glistening nude body. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Oh my gosh! You’re right! How rude of me!” Thunderclash exclaimed. He tucked a wayward lock of teal hair behind one ear and leaned towards Rodimus, softly kissing his cheek. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“Oh my god!” Rodimus laughed so hard, he thought he might become the first merfolk to suffocate on land while using magic to breathe. “While that is very sweet and I am totally happy to see you too; I was talking about your pants!”

“Awww!” Thunderclash threw his head back and groaned. “Not the pants thing again!”

“Yes. The pants thing again.” Rodimus wheezed. While Rodimus had been living above the waves for years, Thunderclash still struggled with cultural mores to comical effect. “We’ve been over this multiple times. It’s customary to wear clothes when on land.”

“I was just so excited to see you I forgot,” Thunderclash sheepishly rubbed the back of his head and grinned his stupid lopsided grin that made it impossible not to love him.

“It’s okay,” Rodimus struggled to reign in his giggles. “Let’s go get you some clothes before Mags makes good on his threats to toss you in the brig for being a repeat offender. Anodes’ shop might still be open.”

“We don’t have to! I came prepared!” Thunderclash beamed proudly. “I stuffed my hat and sarong into the bow of one of the long boats.”

“Why didn’t you say so! If we hurry, maybe we won’t get totally soaked.” Rodimus shoved Thunderclash towards where they stowed the boats as the first rain drops began to fall.

Thunderclash dug in his heels. “I’m literally already dripping wet. AND I said I wouldn’t make you wait in the rain. You go on ahead to Swerve’s. I’ll run to the boats, grab my sarong, get dressed, and meet you there. I’d grab my hat too, but I don’t want to lose it in the wind.”

Rodimus hesitated. The town was small and Swerve’s was very hard to miss but Thunderclash’s sense of direction was notoriously bad. He once got lost below decks on the Lost Light.

“Go on!” Thunderclash rolled his eyes, sensing Rodimus’ trepidation. It was Thunderclash’s turn to shove Rodimus, this time towards town. “I’ll be fine! I just have to follow the beach to town, take the cobblestone road directly to the big statue of Solus Prime, touch her hammer for good luck, and then turn right and follow her gaze directly to the building that houses Swerve’s tavern. Simple!”

“You even remembered the good luck ritual!” Rodimus nodded in appreciation. “Alright. I’ll go. But if you don’t show up in a few minutes, I’m gonna mount a search party and then we’ll all be soaked in the storm.”

“You won’t have to! I promise I won’t get lost!” Thunderclash offered a solemn vow.

“You better not break that promise.” Rodimus poked the vibrant winged tattoo on Thunderclash’s chest that he had done to decorate his scars and then pulled him into a tight hug. Rodimus grimaced as Thunderclash’s wet skin soaked his dry clothes. Rodimus coped with his newly wet clothes by burying his face against Thunderclash’s broad chest. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

“Wild seahorses couldn’t keep me away.” Thunderclash said softly. He gently pushed out of their hug as the rain intensified. “Now go! You’re getting soaked! I’ll be right there.”

“Alright! Be careful!” Rodimus called as he turned and bolted towards shelter at Swerve’s. At least he’d have a few moments to dry off and have something hot to drink before he inevitably had to brave the storm to find Thunderclash lost in some alley.

Chapter Text

Rodimus dodged the raindrops, racing down the cobblestone road to town. He sped past the huge bronze statue of Solus Prime, tapping the worn golden spot on her hammer for good luck like thousands of visitors to the island before him, and rounded the turn directly to Swerve’s. Warm golden light, jaunty music, and raucous laughter spilled out the swinging tavern doors into the gathering gloom.

Crashing through those doors was like diving into another world. Snatches of sea shanties, animated conversations, and the delicious aroma of fresh baked bread filled the air. The oil lamps cast the wide room in a pleasant glow. Servers bustled through the crowd carrying trays laden with mugs of foaming beer and glasses of dark spiced rum. Rodimus was so distracted by everything he ran into one of the servers.

The shorter man pivoted on his feet, deftly balancing a full tray of drinks without spilling a drop.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry-” Rodimus hurried through an apology.

“RODDY!! IS IT REALLY YOU?! It's been too long!”

Rodimus blinked. A wide grin spread across his face as the recognition set in: a brightly colored linen shirt, wild red hair tied back with an even more colorful banana, blue eyes that sparkled like the sea in spring time.

“SWERVE!!” Rodimus exclaimed, clapping the shorter man’s shoulder. “How the hell are you?”

“Never better!” Swerve laughed. He balanced his tray of beverages on one stocky arm and wrapped the other tightly around Rodimus’ waist.

“The place looks great!” Rodimus smiled, returning the awkward embrace, careful not to spill the drinks. “Business good?”

“Booming! Especially on days when a storm blows everyone to town. All this is thanks to you, ya know.”

“Nah.” Rodimus waved off Swerve’s gratitude. “We all worked together to find that lost ship of precious jewels. This place is all your hard work.”

“Well, that and my cut of the jewels,” Swerve elbowed Rodimus.

A chorus of calls for service erupted all around them: “Ahoy, Barkeep!” “Swerve!” “Refills on table 4.” “More rolls!” “More stew!” “More rum!!”

“Duty calls! The rest of your crew is over yonder.” Swerve gestured over his shoulder.

“Thanks! Stop by when you get a minute. It’d be nice to catch up a bit,” Rodimus said as he left Swerve to his business.

“Wait a sec- I was supposed to tell you something…” Swerve stopped Rodimus. He tapped his chin, deep in thought, oblivious to the chaos whirling around him.

The calls for more food and drink became louder and more demanding.

“I’m sure you’ll think of it later. We’ll be here all night and probably tomorrow as well. Better see to your customers!” Rodimus pat Swerve on the shoulder and threaded his way through the crowd to join his crew.

“AHOY! CAPTAIN ON DECK!!” Whirl waved his hooks as Rodimus approached.

His entire crew cheered. Rodimus laughed, taking the seat Drift nudged his way. Currently without a chair, Drift simply draped himself across Ratchet’s lap, drawing another cheer from the merry gathering.

“Here! I ordered you a drink,” Whirl snickered as he slid a tall glass filled with a amber liquid towards Rodimus.

Rodimus regarded the beverage with suspicion. He cast a quick glance at Drift, pointed to the mysterious brew, and mouthed, “What is this?”

Drift innocently shrugged.

Rodimus shook his head. If everyone was determined to prank him, he might as well embrace it. He grabbed the glass with gusto and raised it high.

“A TOAST!” He yelled. Shockingly, everyone fell silent and raised their own glasses. Rodimus grinned. He’d been working on toast appropriate puns with Thunderclash and had a great one prepared for today. “Some ships are wooden ships, and those ships may sink. The best ships are friendships, and to those ships, we drink!”

The crew erupted in laughter. Rodimus raised his glass high and then led his crew in downing their whole drinks. A myriad of spices hit his tongue and burned his throat. Rodimus powered through and gulped down the entire drink, knowing he’d be feeling that in the morning. He slammed the empty glass on the table and wheezed. “What the hell was that?!”

“Chai!” Drift giggled, slamming his own empty glass on the table.

Ratchet choked on his mug of chocolate dark stout, trying not to laugh mid-drink.

“With a few special secret ingredients,” Whirl added, twirling his empty mug by the handle on his hook.

“It’s RUM!! The secret is rum!” Tailgate hiccupped. He knocked his large empty glass from the table. Cyclonus caught the wayward glassware before it shattered on the floor, and set it aright next to his own empty glass.

Anode and Lug hollered for refills.

“How is everyone so drunk already?” Rodimus mused. “Everyone knows Swerve waters down his drinks.”

“Oh?? Does everyone know that?” A voice scoffed from over Rodimus’ shoulder.

“Swerve!” Rodimus yelped. “I was just- I mean-”

“Relax. You’re fine. It’s totally true.” Swerve admitted. “Better for my profit margin and better for my patrons. I sell more drinks and overall everyone gets less drunk. Fewer drunks mean less fights and less property damage. But I might have told Misfire to give you guys a more generous pour. Since you're my crewmates and all.”

“Misfire?” Rodimus scanned the bar. A familiar face with a shock of pink hair waved enthusiastically. Rodimus smiled and waved back.

“Yeah. I hired all the Scavengers. They work great together. It was like getting a complete crew in one go. But I didn’t stop by to discuss my staffing situation. I remembered what I was supposed to tell you! Ta da!” Swerve pulled a battered envelope from his apron pocket and handed it to Rodimus. “Some sauve guy stopped in earlier today. Charming, dark hair, good looking, not that I noticed. Seemed to know that you’d be in later. He said to give you that and say ‘Bomp’.” Swerve cuffed his shoulder.

“What?” Rodimus gasped like he was sucker punched in the gut. He hadn’t heard that phrase in years. In fact, only one person ever used it.

“I know right. It’s weird as hell, but I’m a professional. I conveyed the message exactly as it was given.” Swerve shrugged and bustled away.

Rodimus stared at the envelope weighing heavily in his hand. Memories of promises made years ago flitted through his mind. It couldn’t possibly be…

“Roddy?” Drift asked. While he only spoke his name, Rodimus knew that one word carried an entire string of unspoken questions. For Drift, everything came wrapped in layers.

Rodimus drew a sharp breath. The noise of the tavern faded in his ears. His focus narrowed to the crumpled parcel in his hands. Rodimus flinched as he broke the seal, as if he half expected the thing to explode like a keg of gunpowder. It had been so long. There was no way…

He unfolded the contents of the envelope and something heavy slipped from the blank paper. It fell to the table top with the finality of an executioner's ax. Rodimus stared at the object. The all too familiar gold coin seemingly stared back at him, glinting menacingly in the tavern’s warm light. The last time he saw this strange piece of treasure was-

“HEY?! Is that GOLD?!” Whirl burst out, snapping Rodimus back to the present. “Woohoo! Look at the size of that thing! Drinks are on the Captain!”

A raucous cheer erupted from his crew, oblivious to the imminent danger. If Rodimus’ hunch was accurate, the storm raging outside had nothing on what this omen portended. Rodimus snatched the coin and leapt to his feet.

“Where’s Thunderclash?” He asked as his heart hammered in his chest. “Did he come in yet?”

“Pfft. Nah. He’s probably lost in the storm.” Anode waved off his concern. She sipped her newly refilled drink and snuggled cozily against Lug. “I say we give him a few more minutes to get unlost on his own then draw straws to see who has to go out in the rain and find him.”

“Shit.” Rodimus swore and bolted for the door. The convergence of the message, the coin, and the storm were too strange to be ignored as coincidence. Although it was bad luck to even think the words as a seafarer, Rodimus had a sinking feeling.

He burst out of Swerve’s swinging tavern doors into the howling storm. The earlier scattered rain drops has evolved into a full blown gale. Rodimus was immediately soaked to the bone. The wind drove the rain sideways with a force that stung his exposed skin. Lighting snaked across the dark sky like electric eels racing through unknown trenches. Thunder roared so loudly, it shook Rodimus’ teeth. But he never slowed down.

Rodimus raced across the rain slick cobblestones. Loosing his footing on the slippery stones, he fell and scrambled back to his feet without loosing any speed. He tore past Solus Primes’ towering statue without slowing down for the good luck ritual. Although he needed the all the luck he could get right now, he couldn’t spare the time.

“THUNDERS!!” He yelled as he rounded the bend for the beach. The wind ripped the words from his throat and threw them out to sea.

Away from the shelter of the town’s stone buildings, the wind blasted Rodimus with sand and seapray. Massive waves mounted towards the sky and slammed down against the beach. He shielded his face with one arm. His soaking wet sleeve provided poor protection, but Rodimus pushed himself faster.

His innate fire magic surged inside him. He struggled to remain in control.

Rodimus arrived at the spot where they had securely lashed the longboats among a sturdy grove of palm trees, but the space was empty. Rodimus’ breaths came fast and shallow. He frantically thrashed at the thick coastal scrub, thinking that against all logic and hope the boats were somehow hidden.

Lightning flashed and a multi-hued sparkle in brambles caught Rodimus’ eye. He dropped to his knees to discover a small piece of lovingly polished rainbow obsidian on a silver chain caught in the branches. It was Thunderclash’s magic pendant. His heart sank.

If Thunderclash lost his necklace, he’d immediately return to his merform. He wouldn’t have been able to cross the beach and return to the sea with his fins. Not by himself…

Rodimus scanned the ground. Although the storm had already blown away all trace of any footprints, there was one deep groove in the sand, tracing a path from the palm trees to the water. The kind of groove a longboat’s keel might dig if something heavy were in it as it was dragged across the beach.

Already knowing what he’d find, Rodimus turned towards the ocean. Wind blasted his face and whipped his fiery orange braid like a torn sail. He faced the storm head on. Rain came in waves, like the roiling sea, obscuring the world in a veil of gray. Through the gloom, Rodimus could barely make out the masts of the other ships anchored in the harbor, like ghostly trees among midnight mist.

A crack of thunder heralded another burst of blue white lightning. For a brief second Rodimus could see the entire harbor as clear as day. The spot where they had anchored the Lost Light was empty. Wind and rain filled the space once occupied by those familiar three masts.

Rodimus slipped Thunderclash’s pendant around his own neck and rose to his feet. Fire burned in his heart. The gold coin weighed heavily in his pocket.

Slowly, Rodimus strode forward. Fire crackled in his palms. Sand melted to glass beneath his feet. The Lost Light was gone. And Thunderclash along with it.

And he was going to get them back.

As if to test his courage the sea rose before him. White foam covered the surface of the water and flew aloft on the howling wind. Wave after wave slammed into the shore. The sheer power shook Rodimus’ bones, but he did not break his stride.

Rodimus rolled his own magic pendant between his fingers. As soon as he entered the sea, the magic would return his fins and gills. Although he couldn’t drown in his natural merform, he could still be bashed to a pulp against the beach. Rodimus was never the strongest swimmer, but he once held back the fury of a volcano. All wise men should fear the sea in a storm, but when did Rodimus ever count wisdom as one of his virtues?

He could do this.

Rodimus tensed his entire being. He exhaled and strode with purpose.

He could totally do this.

The sea roared and the wind howled as if to meet his challenge.

Rodimus leapt forward. An unseen force struck his side. Rodimus fell hard, crashing down into the wet sand with an inescapable weight on top of him.

“RODDY!! WHAT THE HELL?!”

“DRIFT?” Rodimus struggled against his best friend, currently pinning him to the ground. “Get off! I have to go!”

“GO?! GO WHAT?!” Drift screamed, tightening his grip. “Go get yourself killed?!”

“I can’t lose him! Not again!” Rodimus thrashed against Drift’s hold. The scent of singed fur filled his nostrils as his fire scorched Drift’s sealskin selkie cloak.

“I can’t lose YOU!” Drift yelled. Despite Rodimus’ uncontrolled fire magic, he refused to let go. “I don’t care if you’ve got fins! If you dive into that surf you’ll be battered to death on the shore, magic be damned.”

Rodimus stilled. He reigned in his fire. Everything happened so fast. Anger and worry consumed him. He never thought someone might notice if he disappeared as well. Drift was right, as usual. Anyone who entered the sea in these conditions would never come out again. He couldn’t rescue Thunderclash if he was dead. Rodimus relaxed and conceded defeat while the ocean roared in triumph. His rage cooled, leaving him cold, wet, and exhausted.

“I got you, Roddy.” Drift whispered. He eased up slightly, allowing Rodimus to wriggle into a seated position, but still kept a firm grasp on him. Drift wrapped his sealskin around them both.

“Drift, you don’t have to-” Rodimus moved to push Drift’s selkie cloak away.

“Relax. I’m not giving it to you. It already belongs to Ratchet.” Drift smiled, alluding to the selkie custom of giving their cloaks to those they love as a sign of lifelong commitment. “I’m sharing it with you. Because I love you too.”

“I’m sorry,” Rodimus muttered, brushing his fingers over the singed fur. “Did I hurt you?”

“I’m okay. But what’s going on with you?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Hmm.” Drift hummed. Sensing Rodimus evasion, he tried a new topic. “Where’s Thunderclash?”

“Same place as the Lost Light, I suppose,” Rodimus nodded towards the stormy horizon, feeling as if he were lost upon the waves, tossed around mercilessly, unmoored and untethered. The sensation was stomach churning familiar to what it was like when Nyon was destroyed.

Drift turned his gold-flecked eyes to the sea and gasped. Rodimus didn’t have to follow Drift’s gaze to know what his best friend saw.

“The Lost Light is gone.” Rodimus said flatly. “And Thunderclash with it.”

“Something tells me you’ve got an idea where.” Drift turned his attention to Rodimus. “It that part of your long story?”

“It’s not so much where, as who.” Rodimus answered.

“Alright then.” Drift pulled Rodimus to his feet. “We can’t do anything while the storm lasts. Let’s get back to Swerve’s and regroup with the crew.”

“But-”

“But nothing. You aren’t alone any more, Roddy.” Drift tugged his sealskin across both of their shoulders and led Rodimus back to town as the storm raged around them.

“Thanks, Drift.” Rodimus sighed. He leaned on Drift’s firm support.

“For what?”

“For saving saving me from myself.” Rodimus cast his best friend a sheepish grin while rain ran in rivulets down his cheeks. “I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

“Probably dead.” Drift deadpanned.

Rodimus snorted. Drift stifled a laugh. It was true, of course, which made the off-cuff comment morbidly hilarious. At the end of his emotions, in lieu of crying uncontrollably, Rodimus simply burst out laughing. Catching his delirium, on edge at nearly watching Rodimus dive to his death, Drift started to laugh as well. They staggered back to town, supporting each other as they laughed like a couple of wild hyenas wandering through a hurricane.

Chapter Text

Rodimus and Drift tumbled back into Swerve’s swinging tavern doors with the unbridled fury of a hurricane at their backs. A few of the patrons grumbled about the sudden burst of wind and rain into the warm harbor of the bar, but most conversations continued completely unbothered by their entrance.

Rodimus shook himself, flinging water in all directions, slightly annoyed that the world kept spinning while his life was falling apart.

“Everything alright?” Swerve asked in a tone that suggested he already knew the answer.

Before Rodimus could find the adequate words to describe how “not alright” things were, Drift simply shook his head.

Ever perceptive, Swerve nodded. He whistled.

“What can I do?” A large shadow fell across him. Rodimus yelped as Spinister appeared out of nowhere right behind him.

“Let the crew use the back room. Bring food and hot drinks, coffee and tea, maybe cut back on the rum. And get the Captain some dry clothes.” Swerve instructed. “I’ll join as soon as I can.”

“Let’s go,” Spinster gently wrapped a dry blanket around Rodimus shoulders and gently guided him through the crowd.

Rodimus was about to ask Drift to share his blanket when he noticed that somehow the swordsman was already bone dry. Drift ran his fingers through his flowing white hair and grinned. Rodimus shook his wet hair, flinging water droplets at Drift. Drift responded by very maturely sticking out his tongue. Rodimus rolled his eyes and fiddled with his aquamarine pendant. It wasn’t fair. Why was selkie magic so much cooler than his own?

As they passed the crew of the Lost Lighters, everyone grabbed their drinks and followed without Rodimus uttering a single word. Spinster led them through a locked door in the back of the hall into a cozy little apartment. Maps adorned the walls. Golden flames lit bejeweled lanterns, sending rainbow lights dancing across the ceiling. A lump caught in Rodimus’ throat when he thought about how much Thunderclash would’ve loved that effect.

Everyone quietly spread out, some sitting at the large round table, others taking a spot on the nautically themed furniture, or claiming patches of the worn wooden floor.

“Welcome to my humble abode!” Swerve stuck his head in while balancing a tray of drinks destined for other sailors jovially partying away the storm in the main hall.

“Your home?” Rodimus gasped, uncomfortably aware that even swaddled in Spinister’s blanket, he was still dripping water all over the place. “Swerve, we can’t-”

“You absolutely can. We’re family. Now that I have the bar, I might not join in on every adventure, but once a Lost Lighter, always a Lost Lighter. I can tell something is wrong, and I’m gonna help in any way that I can. Talking it over in my place gives you a bit of privacy. With the storm, I’ve got a full house tonight, but I'll do my best to check in when I can.”

“Thank you.” Rodimus pulled the blanket tight around himself. While he often thought of his crew as family, he always wondered if they thought about him in the same way. Swerve’s genuine kindness smote his heart. Tears stung his eyes.

“Come‘re, kid.” Before Rodimus could protest, Ratchet wrapped him in a tight hug. Drift must’ve already given him the gist of the situation. “We’ll get him back.”

Rodimus buried his face in Ratchet’s sealskin cloak. Tears rolled freely down Rodimus' cheeks. When he was alone in the storm, rage burned inside him. But now… He couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that this whole situation was his fault. He could deal with his own suffering, but Rodimus never wanted to cause any trouble for his crew. They deserved so much better.

“Sooo…” Lug cautiously began. “Anyone wanna tell us what’s going on?”

“Thanks, Ratch,” Rodimus muttered. He drew in a deep breath as Ratchet gave him a final squeeze and released him. Rodimus stood up straight with his shoulders back, facing the inquiring eyes of his crew. “Everyone, listen up. We’ve faced some tough times before-”

“And we’ve made it through each and every time.” Anode interlaced her fingers with Lug’s. “We can weather any storm that comes our way.”

“Here! Here!” Nautica agreed, drawing a cheer from the rest of the crew.

“The Lost Light was stolen.” Rodimus stated bluntly. Might as well cut right to the chase. The cheers abruptly fell silent. His crew inhaled a collective gasp. “And Thunderclash along with it.”

A chorus of concerned voices shouted out all at once. “What?!” “But the Lost Light is our home!” “Are you sure Thunders isn't just lost again?” “THE SHIP IS GONE?!” “Who would do such a thing?”

“Wait. Wait. Wait.” Tailgate rubbed his forehead as if thought were causing him pain. “Are you saying Thunderclash stole the Lost Light??”

“What?! NO!!” Rodimus said.

“I mean- isn’t there a saying? Optimus’ Razor or something? The simplest solution is usually true?” Tailgate asked. “I mean, if the Lost Light is missing AND Thunderclash is missing-”

Cyclonus elbowed Tailgate.

“Okay.” Rodimus templed his fingers across his face before pointing them at Tailgate. “Setting aside the fact that Thunderclash would never do something like that-”

“And if he did, he couldn’t navigate his way out of the harbor!” Whirl added.

“Yeah. There is that as well,” Rodimus conceded. He fumbled through his numerous necklaces, finding Thunderclash’s magic rainbow obsidian pendant, he held it aloft. “But besides any other explanation, Thunderclash must’ve been shanghaied with the ship because I found this tangled in the scrub where we had tied the longboats, which are also missing before you ask. And there was a deep groove in the sand like something heavy was in the boat as it was dragged to the water.”

“Hey! I recognize that!” Anode exclaimed. “That’s Thunders’ magic necklace. The one that lets him trade his fins for legs and- oh. Oh no...”

A tense hush descended upon the room

“You found that where the longboats were stashed? That’s pretty far from the water.” Lug winced.

Rodimus nodded. He rolled the smooth stone between his fingers. He hadn’t let himself think about what Thunderclash must have felt when he lost that necklace. It must have been awful. “Without the magic, Thunderclash would’ve gotten his fins and gills back immediately. He wouldn’t have been able to fight or to walk away. He wouldn’t even have been able to breathe.” Rodimus clenched his fists. His anger flared up again, but this time directed at himself. “I should have went with him! None of this would’ve happened if-”

“IF? If what?” Whirl cut him off, scratching his hooks across the table. “If I still had opposable thumbs, I’d rule the fuckin’ world! But here we are.”

“Whirl is right.” Cyclonus said in a melodious comforting tone that strangely eased Rodimus’ anxieties.

“Ooooh??” Whirl purred. He gestured toward his pierced ears with his hooks. “I didn’t quite hear you. Say that one more time.”

“As I was saying,” Cyclonus continued with a wry grin. “The only way we can move is forward-”

Whirl huffed in dismay.

“I’m not a gambling man, but I’d wager that you have some knowledge as to who perpetrated this vile deed.” Cyclonus turned his gaze on Rodimus. “And it has something to do with the coin Swerve delivered to you.”

Rodimus nodded. He had to hand it to his crew, they were always on point.

“You said it was a long story.” Drift said. “As long as the storm rages outside, we’ve got nothing but time.”

“Yeah, Roddy. Spin us your tale of heartbreak and woe.” Whirl teased.

“It’s not that kind of story and I guess it’s actually not all that long.” Rodimus drew the large coin out of his pocket and plunked it down on the table for all to see. The intricate carvings gleamed in the golden lamp light. “There was this guy-”

“Oh my GOD!” Tailgate gasped. “It IS that kind of story!”

“Told ya!” Whirl sat back with a smug grin.

“NO! It’s totally NOT!” Rodimus protested. His hands twitched. He needed to move. Instead of running away, he pulled a battered deck of cards out of their oil cloth pouch and began working one handed card cuts, rotating the cards through the Charlier cut and the revolution cut. He took a deep breath. Movement helped him focus. “Getaway was-”

“OooOOoooOoo!” Tailgate giggled. “His name was Getaway!”

“Tales of ship theft and boyfriend kidnapping always begin with a jilted lover.” Whirl snickered.

“Lover?!” Rodimus scrunched his face. “What?! No way!”

“Maybe you didn’t think so, but what was Getaway’s opinion on the matter?” Whirl asked, wagging his eyebrows.

“I- uh- I dunno.” Rodimus stammered. “I figured it was the same as mine. That we were friends.”

“GOOD friends?” Tailgate giggled before he was interrupted by Cyclonus.

“You two are officially cut off.” Cyclonus gently lifted Whirl and Tailgate’s glasses, no doubtedly filled with Dark and Stormys, and replaced them with mugs of hot coffee. “Please, Rodimus. Continue.”

“Alright. Look. When I first came ashore after Nyon was destroyed, I was in a bad way. Lost doesn’t even begin to cover it. I was all alone, without direction or purpose. I was practicing transforming from merform to human form with my magic pendant on what I thought was a deserted island, but I ran into a group of Navy sailors refilling their water barrels at a spring. I didn’t want to tell them the truth, so I lied and said that I couldn’t remember anything.”

“Really? Amnesia? Truly a smooth alibi,” Anode teased.

“Yeah. I’m sure that wasn’t suspicious at all,” Lug snickered.

“What was I supposed to say? That I was a merfolk from a ruined city on the run from my past because I couldn’t save the people I loved most?!” Rodimus threw his hands in the air. “Anyways, the captain, a scary guy named Prowl, wasn’t buying my story at all, but one of the sailors, Getaway, totally vouched for me. Prowl agreed to grant me passage on his insistence. For the brief time I was aboard the Naval ship, Shield of Praxus, Getaway and I were inseparable. We goofed around, played games, went on adventures, things that were great for distracting myself from dealing with my grief.”

“Where does the gold coin come in?” Lug asked.

“Getaway was obsessed with finding treasure. His dream was to find enough gold to retire from the Navy and be someone important. The thing he dreamed about most was the lost treasury of the Decepticon Empire.”

Drift choked on his tea. Ratchet pat his back while Rodimus wondered what provoked that reaction.

“Holy shit!” Anode whistled. “There’s supposed to be more gold in that cache than was ever mined from the earth.”

“While that doesn’t entirely make sense,” Lug said, “it is supposed to contain the legendary wealth of the Decepticon Empire. After the peace treaty, all Decepticon and Autobot currency was to be melted down and new Cybertronian Republic currency minted. Legend says Megatron refused to turn over all of their accumulated wealth and hid a vast portion of their coffers.”

“Guarded by the most ferocious Decepticon warriors to ever live: the DJD.” Spinster added.

Rodimus startled. He didn’t even notice Spinister return with more mugs of hot coffee and tea. How could someone so big be so quiet? In fact, all of the Scavengers were now here, presumably leaving Swerve to handle the crowded bar by himself. They never could resist getting all the latest gossip.

“The Decepticon Justice Division.” Fulcrum shivered. “Those words alone give me the chills.”

“Despite the fancy name, there is nothing “just” about the DJD. Those guys will brutally and creatively murder anyone else who attempts to get the treasure,” Misfire added. “They’ll only answer to Megatron, but he disappeared right after the peace treaty was signed, along with Autobot leader Optimus Prime, to allow the new government a chance to move past old conflicts, so basically there’s no stopping them.”

“The war between the Autobot and Decepticon Empire was over before I came ashore, so I don’t know much of the history. All I know is that Getaway said he had a lead on a map to the treasure. After following a series of clues and rumors, we dug up a small chest containing only this coin and this deck of cards.” Rodimus plunked his cards down on the table. “We agreed to divide what we did find. I called the deck of cards, which Getaway seemed really pleased about, and he took the coin.”

“Aww. It’s a shame you didn’t actually find the map,” Anode moaned with a gleam in her eyes. “Think of all that treasure! I bet there’s gold and silver and every kind of glittering gemstone under the sun.”

“Sorry.” Rodimus shrugged. “Before we parted ways, we did however make a promise. We vowed that if either one of us ever found the map or got command of a ship, we’d seek out the other and go after the treasure together.”

“Do you think Getaway found a map?” Anode asked, on the edge of her seat.

“He must have. And then stole my ship, leaving this coin behind so I’d know it was him. Since I’ve been in command of the Lost Light for a while, he probably thought I broke my promise.” Rodimus hunched his shoulders. His past indiscretions have come back to haunt his entire crew. “It’s not that I meant to abandon him, but how was I supposed to find him?”

“I get why he’d commandeer the Lost Light,” Nautica piped up, “but why would he kidnap Thunderclash?”

“Jealousy. Obviously.” Whirl shrugged.

“More likely, Thunderclash was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Cyclonus said before Rodimus could protest.

“Boo. Where’s the drama?” Whirl huffed.

“Whatever. I just want him back.” Rodimus muttered. “I lost Thunders once before and I won't go through it again. After Nyon, Thunderclash never gave up on finding me. I can’t let him down. But we have no idea where they went.”

“Sure you do.” Spinister said very matter of factly.

“What? Where?” Rodimus snapped.

“Well. If Getaway found a map, it’s probably the same one you have.”

“We don’t have a map.”

“Yeah. You do.” Spinister gestured for Rodimus to give him the deck of cards.

Rodimus hesitated. His fingers twitched. He needed the feeling of the cards in his hands, but Spinister would probably just look at them, realize they are just playing cards and return them. Rodimus reluctantly handed Spinister his cards, and the mercurial doctor promptly dropped his precious cards into a glass of water.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” Rodimus exclaimed. He leapt to save his cards, but Misfire held him back.

“Wait, Roddy. Spin is stupid as hell, but he knows what he’s doing.” Misfire said. He wrapped his arms around Rodimus and rested his chin on his head to make sure Rodimus wouldn’t interfere.

“That doesn’t even make sense.” Rodimus muttered to himself. His life was in shambles. A short time ago he had it all. Now his ship was stolen, his boyfriend was kidnapped, and the one personal effect he used to help himself focus was ruined.

Spinister simply hummed a bouncy tune and swirled the cards in the water. Oblivious to Rodimus’ growing distress, Spinister focused his entire attention on the cards soaking in the water. Nodding in approval, Spinister drew the soaked cards out of the glass and began dealing them out on the table, face up and in new deck order. He made rows by suit, starting with the ace of spades all the way to the king, then diamonds in the same order in the next row, followed by clubs, and hearts last of all. By now, he held the rapt attention of the entire crew. His actions were so deliberate that even Rodimus leaned forward to watch.

As the sopping wet cards sat on the table, slowly their corners curled revealing multiple layers. Spinister grinned. “Don’t worry. I can put back together anything I take apart.”

“Primus, Spin,” Crankcase grumbled. “That sounds creepy as hell coming from you.”

Spinister simply shrugged and began peeling the face layers off the faces and gently setting them aside as if he were conducting surgery. Rodimus’ anxiety quickly turned to amazement. The inner cores of the cards, usually just a thin layer of black cardstock to prevent the cards from being see-through, were covered with colorful patterns. As Spinister continued peeling apart the cards, in very specific order, an image began to take shape.

The Lost Light crew held their collective breath.

“Ta da!” Spinister proclaimed with glee as he pulled off the last card face, the king of hearts.

Rodimus’ jaw dropped. A detailed nautical chart was carefully laid out on the table. The cards inner cores, when placed in new deck order, formed a map. Islands, depths, currents, and landmarks were all lovingly rendered in luminescent colors made of ground gemstones. The symbol in the upper right corner, which would have been the king of spades, matched the angular emblem of the Deception empire sculpted into the coin.

Years ago, Rodimus and Getaway thought they had reached a dead end. All this time, they’ve had the keys to the treasure in their very pockets, quite literally in the cards.

Chapter Text

Rodimus stared at Spinister in shock. “How did you know about this?”

“Hiding important information in plain sight is a classic technique of-” Spinister's proud grin faltered. He turned to Krok for guidance.

“It’s alright, Spin. We're among family.” Krok reassured him.

Spinister nodded and whipped off his shirt. Before Rodimus could be shocked by the abrupt exhibitionism, Spinister’s colorful tattoos grabbed his attention. Amidst an eclectic collection of the usual nautical themed ink: stars, swallows, anchors, were a pair of crossed canons signifying military naval service and the same angular emblem carved into the coin and embossed on the map.

“You were a Decepticon?” Rodimus whispered in awe. Although he was focused on Spinister’s revelation, Rodimus noticed Drift flinch out of the corner of his eye.

“We all were.” Crankcase folded his arms and scowled deeper than usual.

“Wars are fought, but they are never won. The best you can hope for is that they end.” Krok sighed. “After the war, things did change, at least a few for the better. More importantly, we managed to stay together and survive, which is more than a lot of other sailors can say.”

“Then this treasure belongs to you.” Rodimus gestured towards the map. “I want to chase down Getaway, punch him in the face, retake the Lost Light and save Thunderclash but with this map, we can also go after the wealth of the Decepticon Empire. If you were all Decepticons, it's more yours than anyone else's. Come with us.”

“Pffft!” All the Scavengers sputtered like a deflating balloon and then burst into laughter at once.

“Yeah right!” Misfire wheezed.

“No way! No way in hell!” Fulcrum laughed. “What are you? Crazy?! I can’t believe you’d even suggest such a thing.”

“My life sucks, but at least it’s still mine.” Crankcase grumbled.

“What am I missing?” Rodimus asked.

“Listen. Captain.” Nickel approached and laid a hand on Rodimus’ shoulder. “There’s no coming back for anyone who goes after that treasure.”

“Yeah yeah. I know. You said about the DJD being the world’s toughest security guards, blah, blah, blah, but the war’s over-”

“Not for them.” Nickel cut him off. Her gray eyes sharpened like steel. “They’re still fighting. And they’ll keep fighting to the end of time, because they don’t know how to stop.”

“But how do you know?”

“I was one of them.” Nickel stated.

The room fell silent. Even the Scavengers quieted their nervous laughter.

“Each member of the DJD is a uniquely talented merfolk: lusca, kraken, siren. All terrifyingly powerful on their own, but together… Together they are an unstoppable force of nature. Megatron gave them each other when they had no one; gave them a purpose when they had none. They will not lightly set it aside. When we received news the war was over, they refused to leave their posts. Nothing I could say swayed their religious devotion to Megatron and the task he gave them. So I left, taking no gold and marking no map so I could never return. But they are still there. Ever watchful to destroy anyone who seeks the treasure.”

“So the treasure is real then? With all the gold and the silver and the jewels?” Anode piped up. Lug promptly shoved her.

“I don’t really care about the treasure,” Rodimus said.

Anode gasped. Lug pounced on her and clamped her hand over Anode’s mouth before she could argue.

“While the treasure was undoubtedly awesome,” Rodimus conceded, “there are plenty of places to find gold and jewels. If the DJD wants theirs so badly, they can choke on it. All I want is my ship-”

“And my man!” Whirl cut in.

“And to rescue Thunderclash.” Rodimus agreed. “In order to do that, we have to catch Getaway before he gets too close to the treasure. Which means we need to move fast.”

As if to literally rain on his parade, thunder roared so loud the build shook. Driving rain lashed Swerve’s windows. Rodimus’ heart sank. Speed was of the essence, but the sea was too rough to swim. The crashing surf would batter him to death before he made it away from shore. Without a ship of his own, how was he supposed to catch up to the Lost Light when the cards were stacked against him?

“We’re not out of the running just yet. Lost Light is literally unsupplied. We brought all the empty casks ashore before the storm.” Lug pointed out. She, Anode and Nautica had already raided Swerve’s nautical charts and were comparing known areas to the treasure map as well as surveying the surrounding islands. “They’ll have to stop and resupply before moving too far ahead.”

“Right.” Ratchet nodded. “They can’t dock anywhere until the storm lets up and there’s a limited amount of places to stop in this part of the sea.”

“Holy Primus! You’re both right!” Rodimus exclaimed. His spirits lifted. Maybe things were looking up after all. “We’ve got a chance.”

“If you’re serious about going after them,” Crankcase began. “You’ll need a ship. The Lost Light is unique. She has wider sails than she knows what to do with and a shallower draught than anything else in her weight class, meaning she’s faster and more maneuverable than most. There’s only one ship in the harbor right now that stands a chance of catching her: Skip.”

“Skip? Really? LAME!! Who names their ship “Skip”?” Whirl scoffed.

“I don’t care what it’s called,” Rodimus said, cracking his knuckles. “If Skip is fast enough to run down Getaway then she’s the only ship for me!”

“Pardon my intrusion, but are we making plans for grand theft and piracy?” A voice boomed.

Rodimus whirled around to find an imposing shadow blocking the door to Swerve’s apartment. Despite his short stature, his immaculate uniform and air of authority made him seem seven feet tall. A mirror polished badge denoting his office gleamed on his shoulder. It was none other than the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord himself: Ultra Magnus.

“MAGS?!” Rodimus stammered. “I- uh- well you see-”

“Save it, captain.” Ultra Magnus cleared his throat and surveyed their gathering. “Swerve has already informed me about your plight and I am here to help.”

“Help? You’re here to help?!” Rodimus’ jaw dropped. “But we’re stealing a ship!”

“If that’s what it takes to rescue Thunderclash, then yes. Much like the rest of you, Thunderclash has grown on me. Despite his repeated offenses of indecent exposure, which I understand stems from cultural differences rather than malicious disregard for proper etiquette, he has a very firm handshake and an appreciation for font usage and penmanship that I have not found among any of my peers. I rather enjoy our discussions on the proper application of serifs.”

Rodimus narrowed his eyes. Font usage and penmanship?? What exactly did Thunderclash and Ultra Magnus get into when they hung out???

“I’ve got the market cornered on malicious disregard for proper etiquette right here!” Whirl exclaimed, gesturing to himself. Tailgate laughed. Cyclonus sighed from the depth of his soul.

“You’ll get no argument from me,” Ultra Magnus muttered. His mustache bristled. “But that’s besides the point. What is your plan?”

“Well. We haven’t gotten much further than ‘steal Skip’.” Rodimus admitted.

“Skip. A fine choice.” Ultra Magnus produced his leather bound ledger of harbor records. And flipped open to the current date, running his finger along impeccably written notes. “Skip is a sturdy sloop, though much smaller than the Lost Light, tasked with the postal delivery services for the Cybertronian Republic. She has already been in harbor for a few days. While the mail has yet to be loaded, the ship is fully supplied and ready to sail. Her captain has filed his departure plan for tomorrow morning, immediately after the storm.”

“Goddammit.” Ratchet swore. “We should wait until the storm dies down ourselves, but we’ll have to move now.”

“I’ll buy you some time!” Misfire jumped up and bolted towards the bar. “Skip’s crew has been drinking in here for a few hours and it’s time to stop watering down their drinks! Time for a generous pour!! They’ll be lucky to remember their own names tomorrow, let alone try to sail anywhere!”

“I would like accompany you as well, if there is room on the ship.” Magnus clasped his hands behind his back and did his best to act casual, which came off awkward at best.

“You? Would come with us?” Rodimus asked. He couldn’t believe his ears.

“I’ve heard this will be a rather dangerous voyage. I may not be experienced in expressing such things, but I’ve become rather fond of you, captain. The few times I’ve joined you on other ventures were the best times of my life. Perhaps the only time that I’ve ever had f- fff- (oh what’s the word) fun.”

“Mags…” Rodimus whispered. Strangely, it took the Lost Light getting stolen for him to realize that people actually do care about him.

“Well, tough! You can’t go because I’m already going! And where I go, these two go!” Whirl proclaimed, gesturing to Cyclonus and Tailgate.

Whirl’s proclamation sparked an uproar. Everyone, except the Scavengers, wanted to come. Crankcase loudly reminded them there wasn’t enough room, especially if they wanted to move fast and light. The situation was quickly spiraling out of control. Whirl had already challenged everyone to singles combat to decide who goes. On one hand Rodimus was touched that his entire crew was ready to face such danger, on the other hand, if he didn’t figure out something fast, he’d only have half a crew left.

“I’ve got it!” Rodimus exclaimed. All eyes turned towards him. Rodimus gingerly picked up the soaking wet card faces. They felt so flimsy without their cardstock backers, sort of torn apart and exposed. Feeling a strange kinship with them, he gently shuffled the deck. “Let’s put our trust in the cards one more time. Draw hearts or diamonds, you’re with me on the pursuit team. Draw spades or clubs, you’re here on the shore team.”

“Shore team?” Rewind huffed. “How are we supposed to help if we don’t go with you?”

“What we’re about to do is dangerous. If something goes wrong, and the Lost Light returns without us,” Rodimus said solemnly, “it’ll be up to you to retake her and rescue Thunderclash, in our honor. In the mean time, help out Swerve however you can. He’s done a lot for us this evening.”

“Alright. I can live with that,” Rewind agreed. The rest of the crew murmured their acquiescence.

“Everyone, come pick a card!” Rodimus fanned out the deck as delicately as possible. He planned on holding Spinister to his promise of reassembling the cards after this adventure.

His crew filed past, each one choosing a card and nodding in acceptance of their fate-ordained role. Somehow Whirl, Tailgate, and Cyclonus all drew red cards. Rodimus was convinced they cheated but couldn’t figure out how Whirl could palm cards without any actual palms. Drift drew a card and refused to look at it. He was accompanying Rodimus no matter what fate had to say in the matter, and where Drift went, Ratchet followed. Rodimus didn’t argue. Aside from the fact that bringing a deadly warrior and skilled medic on such a dangerous voyage was simply a good idea, Rodimus and Drift promised to watch each other’s backs no matter what. He wouldn’t ask Drift to break that promise. Broken promises had already got him in enough trouble today.

Now that everyone had their teams, they slowly filtered into groups to discuss their plans. Ultra Magnus walked up to Rodimus and handed him a card, the Queen of Spades.

“I’m sorry. I won’t be going with you after all.” Ultra Magnus said, voice weighed down by disappointment at something other than Thunderclash’s inability to comprehend clothing for a change.

“Don’t worry, Mags,” Rodimus grinned. He’d used the nickname several times already and Ultra Magnus hadn’t corrected him yet. “You’ll come with us next time.”

“Indeed. I’ll aid you however I can from my post here.”

“Thank you. About that… I’d hate to ask but…”

“Please.” Ultra Magnus snapped to attention.

“Could you keep an eye on the rest of the spades and the clubs? I don’t like leaving anyone behind but if you’re with them…”

“Say no more, Captain. They are all under my protection until you return.” Ultra Magnus saluted. The gesture was so intense, so sincere, it brought tears to Rodimus’ eyes. When did anyone ever take his captaincy so seriously?

“Thanks, Mags,” Rodimus smiled. He clapped Ultra Magnus shoulder. “I knew I could count on you.”

“We’ve got a heading, Cap!” Nautica called. She beckoned Rodimus over to the maps strewn table around the carefully arranged cards. “If we compare all these charts, it appears that the Decepticon map is actually a chart of the Alpha Triongle. This uncharted crescent shaped island where the treasure is supposed to be hidden is right smack in the center. It’s only on the map from your cards, no other charts even hint at its existence.”

“THE ALPHA TRIONGLE?!” Rodimus shouted. “The area of the sea everyone avoids because ships just vanish without a trace from those waters?”

“The very same.” Lug nodded solemnly. “Although if there’s an elite group of Decepticon murder monsters living in there, the whole disappearance thing makes a lot more sense.”

“Murder monsters aside, we calculated Getaway’s most likely route.” Nautica traced her finger along a chart from the Alpha Triongle back to Solus Cay, stopping at a small island not far to the east. “The outpost at Luna 1 is the perfect spot for the Lost Light to stop for supplies before heading into the open ocean. If we hurry, we might be able to beat Getaway to the island, long before we have to contend with the treasure’s legendary guardians.”

“Fortress Maximus is the current harbor master posted there.” Ultra Magnus leaned over to inspect the maps. “He is an old colleague of mine. Very reliable. He’ll have a record of every ship that pulls into harbor.”

“Alright. It’s settled.” Rodimus put his hands on his hips and surveyed his crew, finally feeling like he had his hand on the rudder after being adrift in the storm. They had a plan. They were going to rescue Thunderclash. Everything was gonna be okay. “At the first hint of the storm’s end, we commandeer Skip and set a heading for Luna 1, as fast as her sails will allow. I’m not expecting much of a fight from Getaway, he’d always rather talk his way out of trouble, but be prepared for anything. Especially if we end up facing off with the DJD.”

“No one faces off with the DJD,” Crankcase muttered. “They just die.”

THe rest of the crew all started shouting at once. Whirl loudly proclaimed that he never lost a fight, which Rodimus found hard to believe, with all the missing body parts and all. In the midst of the chaos, Nickel grabbed his arm and pulled him aside.

“Captain. Rodimus.” Nickel said sternly. “I know the Lost Light is your ship.”

Rodimus nodded.

“And you love that big colorful idiot who got himself kidnapped.”

“Where is this going?” Rodimus asked, a creeping sense of unease taking hold of his heart.

“I served with the DJD. I know what they are capable of.” Nickel locked Rodimus in her gaze, her grey eyes as hard as forged steel. “All I’m saying is, if you don’t overtake the Lost Light on the open ocean, turn back at the first sight of that damned island. Otherwise you’ll be personally signing the death warrant for every single person on board your ship.”

Rodimus clenched his fists. The excited chatter of his crew eager for their rescue mission washed over him. He couldn’t abandon Thunderclash. But he couldn’t condemn everyone else either.

It was an impossible decision; to weigh the lives of people he loved against each other. Rodimus ignored the churning in his stomach and simply hoped he’d never have to make that choice.

Chapter Text

Rodimus slumped over the railing at the prow of the stolen ship. The sun had already slipped into the western sky, casting long shadows across the unfamiliar deck. The gentle rhythmic splash of waves lapping against the wooden hull and soft flap of the canvas sails in the breeze did little to soothe his anxieties. Another day without a single trace of the Lost Light was drawing to a close.

They had commandeered Skip easy enough. After all, thanks to Misfire’s machinations, her entire crew was drop-dead drunk at Swerve’s. Although sailing through the tail end of the storm was a bit rough going, his crew never faltered. Abysmal conditions seemed to bring out Whirl’s skill as a helmsman. With Tailgate and Cyclonus on lookout, they deftly navigated past the rocky shoals guarding the harbor of Solus Cay.

Crankcase was right about Skip. Although she was no Lost Light, she practically danced along the prevailing breeze. They made it to the island outpost of Luna 1 in record time.

And Ultra Magnus was on point about Fortress Maximus as well. The imposing harbormaster had detailed records of all ships passing through his watch and their travel plans. Although wary of Rodimus’ crew at first, Fortress Maximus’ stern expression softened when Rodimus mentioned being a friend of Ultra Magnus, and he shared the information that they needed. The Lost Light had indeed pulled into port only a few hours ahead of them and took on all manners of supplies. Getaway had paid in gold, signed the receipts with his own name as if he expected Rodimus to chase after him, and departed with an eastern heading as soon as the last barrel was lowered into the hold.

In that moment, Rodimus realized how much he had come to depend on his crew and how much they supported him. Although he was prepared to try, Rodimus knew he would have never gotten so far alone. He’d come a long way from a lonely merfolk wandering the dry land thinking he had lost everything that ever mattered. He had lost a lot, but he gained things he never dreamed possible.

Rodimus rallied his crew and took off after Getaway. Hopes were high. Skip flew across the waves. Surely they could overtake the Lost Light long before contending with the DJD was even a remote possibility. But then hours dragged into days with no sight of those familiar masts on the horizon. Rodimus knew his ship. The Lost Light was fast, but they were putting everything into their pursuit. Tailgate should’ve caught a glimpse of something from his perch on the crows nest. But every report brought the same information: nothing but sea and sky.

Rodimus rubbed his face to ward off exhaustion. Aside from not being able to sleep, he’d swam more in the last few days than he had in years. Using his magic pendant to shift back into his natural merform, he dove into the waters every few hours and swam circuits around the ship. Searching for anything that might give a clue if they were even on the right path. He never found anything or anyone to ask, which brought a new worry.

With each successive dive, one missing piece of evidence clawed at Rodimus’ heart: where was Riptide?

When the Lost Light pulled into Solus Cay to ride out the storm, Riptide took his sharks out into the deep. He was adamant that Megs in particular disliked being too close to shore in rough surf. While Riptide might not be the most eloquent or educated, he was extremely perceptive and beyond loyal. He’d have noticed the Lost Light pulling out of harbor in a storm. Rodimus thought for sure Riptide would have followed the stolen ship and maybe even provided some aid to Thunderclash or, at the very least, relayed a message.

He began to worry that Getaway had done something to Riptide as well. The same old feelings of being responsible for every bad thing that happens began to resurface. Rodimus did his best to ignore them, but that was getting more difficult with each passing moment.

Rodimus raised his eyes to the horizon. A dark indigo blotch hovered where the sky met the sea. If he squinted, he could swear he could see the faint outline of jagged mountains. It might be a trick of the lengthening night or the beginnings of a storm far out to sea or it could be the first glimpse of the domain of the legendary DJD. Nickel told him to turn back at the first sight of the map’s final destination, but they still haven't found the Lost Light.

Rodimus buried his face in his hands. What if he made the wrong call? What if Getaway had already made it to the island and the DJD murdered Thunderclash while he cried out for Rodimus to rescue him? What if Rodimus was leading his crew to the same dark fate?

SPLOOSH!!

A blast of cold water to the face shocked Rodimus out of his spiraling thoughts. A pure white seal streaked with crimson smirked up at him from the waves, keeping fast pace with Skip as they plowed forward. A large mahogany splotched seal followed dutifully behind.

“Drift! Ratchet!” Rodimus exclaimed. He rushed to lower the swim platform so they could flop aboard. “Find anything?”

Ratchet shook his whiskered face, allowing Drift to hop out of the water first. Despite the bad news, a smile spread across Rodimus’ face. It was impossible to watch the two selkies roll around in their seal forms and not smile. As soon as Drift was out of the water, he transformed into human form, wrapping his seal skin around himself and helped Ratchet roll aboard. Rodimus choked down a laugh. It was even funnier when one of them was in seal form and one was a human.

“Sorry. We didn’t catch any hint of the Lost Light. Believe me, I want to find Thunderclash as much as you do. Maybe more. I can’t believe that big colorful idiot is making me worry about his glittery ass all over again,” Ratchet huffed as he joined Drift in activating his selkie magic. “We couldn’t find any trace of Riptide or his sharks either, which is usual. When we’re in our seal skins, his sharks usually find us. I think that big one in particular has it out for me.”

“It’s so strange,” Drift pondered. He shook himself completely dry. “At the speed we’re moving, it’s hard to keep up when we’re swimming. I thought we’d catch the Lost Light by now for sure.”

It was strange. Rodimus did his best not to think about the DJD murdering Thunderclash by immediately changing the subject.

“Thanks for looking.” Rodimus said. “I really needed a break. Head on down to the galley. Lug made fresh biscuits.”

“Best news I heard all day!” Ratchet grinned. He moved to sling his arm around Drift’s shoulders. “Come on, Kid. Let’s get some dinner!”

“You go on ahead, Ratty.” Drift sidestepped Ratchet’s grasp. “I need to talk to Roddy.”

Ratchet stopped. He gave Drift’s shoulder a firm squeeze. “You sure?”

Drift nodded.

“Alright. I’ll do my best to save you a biscuit, but no promises!” Ratchet chuckled.

Rodimus furrowed his brow. What was that exchange all about?

“Drift? Is everything alright?” Rodimus asked, scared to find out the answer.

They leaned against the port railing together. The sun sank lower towards the sea, casting all the clouds in vibrant shades of pink. Stars began to glitter far above in the darkening sky. The last light of the day caught on the jagged shape looming on the horizon. There was no denying it now, they were drawing ever closer to an island not illustrated on any chart but the one hidden in Rodimus’ cards.

“Rodimus.” Drift began.

Rodimus flinched. Drift rarely used his full name. It must be serious.

“I need to tell you something before you find out from someone else.”

“What? Are you okay? What’s going on?!”

“It’ll be easier to just show you…” Drift said. He slouched his sealskin cloak a little off his shoulder and gathered up his long white ponytail. He leaned forward to expose the nape of his neck. There, amidst his flowing crimson tattoos was a single violet emblem, the very same one that was emblazoned on the map and the coin. The same tattoo, albeit much fancier, as the one on Spinister’s chest.

“HOLY SHIT! You were a Decepticon?!” Rodimus exclaimed. His jaw dropped and his mind raced.

“For a time. Yes.” Drift nodded. He shifted his cloak back into place. “A rather high ranked one at that.”

“Does Ratchet know?”

“Of course Ratchet knows. It’s part of the reason we parted ways years ago. He… disagreed with some of my choices. I have walked many different paths in my life.” Drift admitted. “Some of them, very dark… until I met you. Your light helped me find my way through the shadows.”

“Yeah but a Decepticon?! That means the DJD are going to kill you!” Rodimus yelled. His heart pounded in his chest. Suddenly Nickel’s warning became very real.

“That’s your main takeaway from this?” Drift asked. “You’re not concerned about the type of things I did?”

“Hell no! We’re best friends. I destroyed a city and you never held it against me. Nothing could change the way I feel about you. Which is why I can’t let anyone kill you!”

“Roddy.” Drift chuckled. “If we encounter the DJD, they are going to kill everyone.”

“But from what the Scavengers implied, they’ll kill you extra hard!” Nothing about Drift’s past could ever change how much Rodimus loved him, but he couldn’t bear the thought that their quest put Drift in extra danger.

“Dead is dead.” Drift shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. And it doesn’t change our friendship. I just wanted you to hear it from me first, in case we do run into the DJD and they make a big deal about it. I defected before the peace treaty. If they are still fighting the war like it never ended, they’ll consider me a traitor.”

Every nerve in Rodimus’ body was on edge. The DJD’s island loomed every closer. He couldn’t go forward without endangering Drift, he couldn’t turn around without abandoning Thunderclash. No matter what choice he makes, someone suffers. There has to be a way, if only he could figure it out in time.

“NAUTICA! NIGHTBEAT! FURL THE SAILS!” Rodimus shouted. He leapt into action, yelling orders.

“AYE CAPTAIN!” A chorus of shouts responded from overhead.

“Roddy! What are you doing?” Drift gasped.

“We have to slow the ship. I need to think.” Rodimus paced faster and faster across the deck.

“But we haven’t caught up to the Lost Light yet,” Drift protested.

There was the only way to protect everyone and still have a chance of saving Thunderclash. After Nyon was destroyed, Thunderclash never gave up searching for Rodimus. Rodimus owed him the same dedication, but he also owed Drift. Rodimus was completely lost and alone until he met Drift. They stood by each other when neither one had anything to offer the other. He had to protect him.

Rodimus made his decision, “I’m going to go on alone.”

“LIKE HELL YOU ARE!!” Drift yelled.

“Turn Skip around and take the crew back to Solus Cay,” Rodimus continued, undeterred by Drift’s protests.

“NO FUCKING WAY!”

“Just do it, Drift. We should’ve caught up to the Lost Light by now, but there’s still no sign of her, and I don’t know why. It could be that we’re already too late. If the DJD already sank the Lost Light, Thunderclash might still be alive, locked in the brig or something. I’ll swim, stay deep and hope they won’t even notice I’m here.”

“The DJD are merfolk, Roddy. They’re going to notice you.”

“Then I’ll be extra careful. It’ll be fine. Totally fine. I’m used to facing danger alone.”

“I don’t care what you’re used to. I’M NOT GOING TO LEAVE YOU!”

Rodimus didn’t want to fight with Drift, especially if this was the last time they might see each other, but he couldn’t let him risk his life. Drift had Ratchet. They only recently found each other again after years of wandering different paths. It wouldn’t be fair to let their life together end when it had only just begun. And there was the rest of the crew to consider. While Rodimus couldn’t give up on Thunderclash, he couldn’t risk anyone else either.

“Drift. You have to go.”

“I make my own choices, Roddy. I always have. I’m staying.”

“No. You’re not. I can’t let you put yourself in danger.”

“You’re not LETTING me do anything because I’m not asking for your permission,” Drift snapped.

Skip wasn’t that big. A tense hush fell across the deck like the ocean receding before a tsunami. The entire crew was now eavesdropping on the increasing volume of their argument.

“Don’t make me pull rank on you.” Rodimus growled. Why couldn’t Drift see that Rodimus needed him to be safe?

“What are you gonna do? Order me to leave?” Drift scoffed. He folded his arms and shifted his stance slightly as if daring Rodimus to make him move.

“I WON’T ASK YOU TO DIE FOR ME!” Rodimus snapped back. His temper flared. Tears stung his eyes. Everything was falling apart.

“Well, that’s too fuckin’ bad.” Whirl interrupted, deadly calm while a storm raged around him, like the eye of a hurricane. “Cause I’d do it for free, no asking required.”

“Whirl?” Both Drift and Rodimus turned to face the helmsman. The unexpected intrusion robbed the wind from their arguments’ sails.

“You heard me.” Whirl stared at Rodimus. His single eye burned like molten gold in the gathering darkness. The gemstones decorating his leather eyepatch gleamed cold and hard in the moonlight. Silence fell heavily on the ship; the only sounds were the waves lapping at the hull and Rodimus’ heart pounding in his chest.

“But-”

“But nothing, mon capitaine.” Whirl spoke quietly, without his usual bluster. He sauntered around the wheel and approached Rodimus like a jungle cat on the prowl. “Despite my many claims to the contrary, my life before the Lost Light wasn’t great. I’d be dead, likely by my own hand, if you hadn’t crashed into my life and offered me a chance at something else.”

“Whirl, I-” Rodimus stared at his helmsman, not sure how to respond to such a painful confession.

“Team Whirl. Army of One. And look where that fuckin’ got me.” Bitterness laced Whirl’s words. He brandished his hooks. The moonlight chased along their sharpened curves. Whirl never shared the origin story of his many prosthetics. “I know I’m not the best crew member, I’ve done some stupid shit, on purpose, but you’ve never even threatened to throw me out. All this love and friendship bullshit isn’t earned, it’s given and you’ve always given it freely. I wanna give it right back to you. I don’t speak for anyone but me, never have, but you’ve stood by me, I’m gonna stand by you.”

Cyclonus stepped forward and planted a steady hand on Whirl’s shoulder. He nodded in silent agreement.

“Besides…” Whirl cleared his throat, fighting emotions and private memories, “we’ve got a giant naked merman to rescue. Thunderclash is my one ally in planning Skinny-Dipping Saturdays, and I’m not about to lose him!” Whirl pivoted from his sincerity to comfortable teasing about Thunderclash’s infamous disregard for clothing. Nothing like a familiar joke to scuttle a serious conversation. “If you’re gonna go all fish-scales and swim after him, then I’m coming too. But it’d be much easier if you kept the ship, since I’m not that great a swimmer.”

Rodimus’ jaw dropped. He never expected that kind of support from Whirl of all people. Nor did he realize how much being a member of the Lost Light crew meant to him. Which ironically made Rodimus all the more determined to protect his crew, every last one of them. He looked around. All eyes turned to him. They were ready to sail into danger to rescue one of their own, but Rodimus still couldn’ bear the thought of any of them getting hurt on his behalf.

He wasn’t strong enough to save Nyon. Why should he be strong enough to protect the people he loved now?

What should he do?

“SAILS HO!!!” Tailgate shouted from above, shattering the taught atmosphere like a brick through a window.

“WHAT?!” Everyone yelled at once.

“I’VE SPOTTED HER, CAP!! WE’VE FINALLY FOUND THE LOST LIGHT!!”