Disclaimer: I don't own Trasnformers

Please R&R

(My first drabble in the Armada verse. Based off of the episodes Past part 1 and 2. Has implications WheeljackXHotshot. Enjoy!)

==Wheeljack POV==

The fires still danced in his dreams.

Twirling, leaping and licking tongues of ruby, orange and yellow tinged with the multicoloured flare of the energon fuel that helped the wicked raging beast stay alive as it burned and scalded.

He could almost touch it, reaching out to the embracing heat and its curling black smoke that slipped through his spread fingers as he stood at the centre of his personal inferno.

It swirled closer, frightening him, twisting over his white plating scorching it black, grey soldering into molten gold and optics burning blue with the intensity of the heat. It consumed him, eating his circuits alive with maddening fire, teeth of flame funnelling along wires and coolant lines, his faceplate twisted into a scream that was lost in the lava's roar.

The gap in the distance was fading, his opportunity to taste the air, the simple scents of life, charred and burnt away, replaced with smoke and charcoal.

His optics saw everything tinged with flame, his supposed allies, and his enemies. Even the one who left him to burn, the bot who was once so dear to him, a battle brother, a mentor and on the verge of something more.

The fire liked him, the yellow and red one who gave the flames a living body to commandeer, charring an innocent inside out so it could scour the universe, masquerading as a long dead mech, driven mad by his hatred of his friend's abandonment.

The fire wanted to share. To drive this mech into the dancing flames, be consumed and controlled by a force of nature that moulded everything that stood in its path. If it did not melt, burn hotter. If it dowsed you in water, scatter your embers near some fuel.

In the crashed ship of the Decepticons, the mech with the living fire coursing in his lines, known as Wheeljack smiled in his dreams.

==Hot Shot POV==

A rolling heat gripped the happy dream, as a towering walking inferno tred onto the plain of an earth field, grass burned to charcoal, turning white in powdery ash that fluttered on the wind with floating embers.

"This is what you made me Hot Shot" the flames whispered in his audio, wild spikes and spires curling and compacting into a rippling burning frame of a friend long lost to him. "Come. Come and Burn with me" the ghost of a mech cooed, a single smoking and fire clung servo held up for him to take. "We'll burn together."

"Wheeljack" he said sorrowfully falling to his knees as his dreams were blasted away by heat, fire and smoke, the spectre still smiling softly at him offering to share the destructible force of nature. "No."

"Then let us both melt." it said casually as if it did not care that the licking sheets of red, orange and yellow heat were circling him. The faceplates twisting into a gruesome image of a half melted mech, molten metal dripping from visible finger struts, wires and joints flexing as it reached. "Let us burn in the pits!"

In the Autobot base, the mech known as Hot Shot bolted upright in his berth with a horrified scream…