I sighed as the sky darkened overhead; the storm was getting closer.

All I have to do was go over and ask her; it’s that simple. She hasn’t seen me yet; too busy loading crates. All I have to do is walk up to her...

Things hadn't always been this way.

Well actually, they had, but perhaps I used to feel a lot surer about myself; the thought of her answer wouldn't perhaps have terrified me as much back then.

Back then...

I tried to shrug off the memories that threatened to overwhelm me yet again.

I'd been over this, over and over. More times than I could count. But yet again, those memories I always tried so hard to repress just washed over me.

Again I found myself remembering incidents. And people.

It's strange really, just how easy you can wish someone you loved so much had never existed; you forget the feelings you had for them, the times they made you laugh.

You wish they'd never existed; you wish that maybe it would be worth forsaking the whole time you had together, just to stop the memories replaying like a bad film.

You wish you didn’t know now what you didn’t know then…

Nothing left for it, I succumbed.

Once, when I was young and foolish, I used to pride myself on the fact that no one noticed me; it wasn't just that it suited my job description of reconnaissance to be unseen, I used to revel in the fact that I could enter and leave a room and no one would even notice I'd gone.

One time, after I'd changed subjects at the Academy, I was asked by another student if I'd be taking part in extra training that was being offered; I hadn't been in that subject for almost a year and I'd never been missed.

Life was good.

Then she appeared.

It was odd really, we'd been in the same Intel department for a while and had never even spoken; she was one of the liaisons of the intelligence-gathering firm I worked with.

It started casually at first; I was discussing politics with another spy; she overheard and merely acknowledged she knew what we were talking about, and that was it for a few months.

Finally we spoke again. Our department was small; we were being merged with another soon, and a few of us had decided that we’d keep in touch and keep working in our little group; we knew one another well enough to know we worked better as a team. Even if our future work wouldn’t be recognised, we still figured we’d keep at our old jobs. Keep ‘in the groove’.

I ‘think’ it was my decision to ask her if she’d be involved. I fully expected her to decline the offer; why would she have anything to do with us?

To my –I think our- surprise, she agreed.

We met up a few times as a group after that; there was a lull in mainstream work and I think we were all grateful to be able to keep our skills sharp before things picked up again.

I don’t remember when it happened, but I started talking with one of the other members about her.

He was an odd type old Thunderclave, big and brutish. He fitted his tank alt-mode well. He was the sort you wouldn’t ever pick as a spy, but he had most of the equipment we used and I think he tended to lord it over us.

We had many a deep conversation. It was odd really; he was totally insane; someone later stated that he’d probably one day be found in a bell-tower with a view over a crowded public area…

He used to complain to me that he felt that he was always the outcast; he believed in Primus purely because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have anyone to blame for the way his life had turned out.

I know he fancied her; I humoured him at first when he started talking about how he thought she was involved in the group just for him.

It was around this time that I started taking an interest in her also; it was subtle at first, and to be honest, I think I just wanted to get closer to her to protect her from Thunderclave, but at the same time I felt that it wasn’t my place to interfere; she seemed to be favouring the two of us more than the others and I figured that it was her choice if she went for the big brutes.

One day in a private comm. Between us, I let slip to her just how frustrated I felt sometimes that people only ever saw what I wanted them to see; even the so-called psykers were never able to fully read my thoughts; it seemed that any time I wanted someone to know something, I had to actually spell it out to them.

I felt really like I’d let my guard down after that; a moment of weakness that I would never, ever let myself repeat.

She didn’t rub it in; she actually thanked me for opening up and letting her in, just that tiny bit, but still made it quite clear that I was overstepping a lot of boundaries.

Thunderclave was getting all the more frustrated with the way things were shaping up; he started griping about being ignored, then finally that I was trying to compete with him for her attention.

I knew it was probably the right thing to do, but even now I feel that it was wrong for me to get involved, but I hinted that Thunderclave might need keeping an eye on; I mentioned his interest in her.

She was shocked and disgusted that a beast like that would be interested in her, and she seemed equally annoyed at me for thinking she wouldn’t have taken offence if she’d known.

It took a lot of explaining that I just wanted to remain objective; that I didn’t know what type she was interested in and it wasn’t my place to dissuade him; she accepted that and was thankful that I warned her.

Shortly after that, Thunderclave went totally nuts and told me that he was sick of always being the third wheel; that it was my place to personally tell the entire group that he was through with the lot of them.

I told him that he could do his own dirty work, but that was effectively the end of it; he never let the others know that he’d wanted me to cut them off; the last I knew he was still tight with most of them, basically because it was in his interests to do so.

Work started picking up about then on a temporary basis and fortunately she’d been transferred to the same department I had; we knew it was brief; a slight increase in Autobot activity behind our lines had meant we had work until it subsided again.

It did, but this time we stayed in touch; a friendship I’d never known.

Things were still slow; she was hard to read and several times when she arrived at my housing block to talk about what was troubling her she’d left in a huff merely because I’d tried to listen.

After one such incident I didn’t expect to ever hear from her again; she’d arrived unexpectedly and in quite a foul mood; I asked what was wrong and was told to mind my own business; I replied that that was fine, but if she needed to talk that I was listening.

Her response was to become enraged and she told me that I was not to ever assume that she’d want someone to hear her concerns. She flew off, screaming that I was transgressing my bounds and she’d kill me if I ever interfered like that again.

I thought I’d seen the last of her after that; when she arrived back a week later, she told me she’d thought the same thing; I was let in on the secret that if she let herself associate me with whatever evil was in her life, that she’d always view me as simply a reminder of that evil.

It wasn’t an apology, just a statement that she’d made herself return so as to prevent that happening; I still had to keep my distance.

Which was fine. We met up several times a week and just kept up the casual chatter; discussions about work, about the war.

One day, she seemed distressed. I felt awkward and enquired if I should leave and give her the space she obviously needed.

Hours past without much being said; I’d tried to blend into the furniture.

Finally, she asked to be held; a close friend of hers had been killed.

Horror. Panic. The thought of physical contact was so alien to me. I’d never consoled anyone in my life and awkwardly wound up holding three fingers on her hand and telling her everything was ok.

After that, she told me that she was sorry she’d been standoffish, that she just didn’t know how to approach me.

I acted nonchalant to spare her the embarrassment. I was glad that she’d finally opened up, and joked that a lot of stress could have been avoided on both parties if we’d both just said what we meant.

After that, life was good. I felt free for the first time in my life; I had someone I could actually talk to, express my thoughts and dreams to without feeling like I was just simply griping that no one ever took any notice of my opinions.

She meant the world to me; I felt myself changing; wanting to become everything she needed in life.

It was like nothing else mattered any more other than her happiness; I would do anything to give that to her.

I wanted her life to be perfect.

She no longer kept anything to herself, and even friends she hadn’t seen in years commented she’d never looked so happy.

A year passed. Two years, and with every day we seemed mutually closer.

Finally I felt comfortable telling her that I’d agree to consolidate our existence; if we were to spend eternity together, then I’d agree to do it formally.

I was rewarded with her storming off; ranting as though no one could hear her thinking out loud.

I felt angry and alone. She didn’t seem to understand why I’d became so cold when she returned to the room; she seemed genuinely puzzled that I’d been able to hear her thoughts and tried to calm me by simply saying that not formalising our bond wouldn’t make her care any less about me.

I accepted that was what she wanted and thought nothing more of it; in hindsight though I probably should have taken her outburst as a sign of things to come…

Another year, things seemed to have become stable; work was good, life was good, I was happy.

She seemed slightly distant at first; nothing even noticeably wrong. In fact it was months before she even admitted that something was bothering her.

The only explanation I ever got was that she got depressed on a very long cycle; apparently when we first met she was at the end of the last one.

But, she was adamant that she’d overcome it with my help, as I’d helped last time by just being there.

So, I helped. I listened when she spoke, I was quiet when she didn’t.

All I wanted was to help keep her happy.

The months progressed as things got darker. Nothing I did seemed to help any more, but any time I the offer was made to give her room it was met with a fierce refusal.

I was told, so forcefully that I was the only thing keeping her going that I believed it exclusively; I made every effort to be there for her, to listen, to help. To believe that my company was needed even if I couldn’t do any more than sit there in the same room.

A surprise it was then, when she informed me that it’d be another year or so before she could talk to me again…

I accepted that, I really did. I told her that if she needed that, then I’d be there at the end for her, but if there was any other way that I could help her fight her demons, then I’d be beside her all the way.

I saw her once more after that, just once a day later. She came to tell me that she’d thought about what I’d said, and had decided that if I still wanted to help her, then she could no longer see me. She’d decided the only way to cope with my understanding was to associate me with the demons she carried.

She left for the last time; I never heard from her again.

I did try; after a while I enquired after her from one of her friends and was told that this wasn’t the first time she’d behaved this way; not even her closest friends knew what she was running from.

I learned betrayal.

I changed again after that; I refused to let it bother me and became hard; I tried to forget that it happened, to refuse the events just as I refuse to remember her name.

I knew that approach would most likely destroy me; make me so twisted inside that I would never again trust anyone.

But I took that approach; it seemed the only option.

Those events no longer hold any malevolence when I recall them. The intervening years have made them memories, nothing more.

But I have changed. I no longer smile at pretty strangers who don’t see me there. I no longer take pride in being invisible.

I’ve become cold inside. There’s a hollowness I try to ignore.

But then I met Swordsdance…

We’ve talked; she knows I exist at least.

I wish I knew what she thought of me; I try not to listen to the tiny voice that says I’m merely a distraction, that talking to me just breaks up the monotony of loading crates.

For the first time in years, I feel like the hollow in my spark could be filled.

I feel like I’m ready to try again, to open up and let myself change to make another’s life happy. To make another’s existence bliss.

I’m ready to try again, but not to face rejection…

“Hi.”

“Oh, Hi.”

“Need a hand?”

“No thanks Tailwind, all done here.”

The storm finally breaks and I watch as she finishes loading and heads off. I’m slightly crestfallen that I missed my opportunity yet again.

But that’s ok. For the moment I’m happy enough just knowing she’ll talk to me. For the moment knowing she’ll potentially say yes fills me with so much joy that it’s more important than asking her and hearing her say no.

Next time I see her I’ll ask her. But for the moment, it’s enough to just know she’s out there.