Wings of Love CH9
Title: Wings of Love
Fandom: Transformers AU
Author: ledishae and deathmustang
Pairing/Charachters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Ratchet, ensemble
Rating: R
Summary: Harpies, creatures with angelic faces and the bodies and talons of the fiercest hunting avians, had long been rivals of the gryphons, the eagle/lion beasts of legendary might. Yet, being in the wrong place at just the right time brings three would be enemies together against a common foe.
Warnings: Emotional turmoil, mentions of death
Word Count: 4788
Disclaimer: All Transformers characters belong to their respective owners, I'm just having a little fun.
A/N:: Warnings for depictions of abuse, emotional trauma, and angst.
"Ratchet," a warm, doting voice cooed gently, bringing a sleepy smile to the little harpy curled snugly in his little nest. The beloved figure nestled carefully on the edge of the miniature nest, a heavy, clawed wingtip brushed tenderly against Ratchet's young brow. "How are you feeling?"
Little Ratchet writhed in his berth, tiny clawed wings reaching beseechingly to the larger figure, "Tank hurt, Carrier." This little voice whined plaintively. Ratchet was too small for his age, little claws were delicate, continuously flaking and jagged. The little one could not keep much energon down, and stayed in his nest for weeks, too weak to run, to fly.
"Oh, sweetling, you're still sick." The voice soothed above him, feathers changing to fingers as his carrier brought over a small bowl full of jellied energon made thicker so Ratchet wouldn't choke. "This will make your tank all better." The words were spoken with promise and young Ratchet could only have faith in his carrier as all younglings did …
"Ratchet!" The young harpy came awake with a start, looking weekly to the round entrance to his little room.
"W'ja?" He mumbled, mangling his brother's name, "Have nightmare?"
"No, Ratch, listen! Ratch, Carrier's been making you sick." Wheeljack slunk into Ratchet's room, holding a small bowl in his wing tips. "Do you remember Creator telling us about apophyllite drupes?" Wheeljack asked looking concerned on his little brother. The drupes were hard shelled things that did not seem to know if they were nuts or berries.
"Uh huh," Ratchet mumbled tiredly, still weak and sick despite the passing vorns since he first fell ill. "Creator said they - change our food?"
"That's right." Jack smiled proudly, "It makes our food into poison. Ratch, Carrier's been feeding you apophyllite." He held up the bowl he carried, showing Ratchet the brown shell lined interiorly with shimmering white crystals. "I'm telling creator, he's coming home tonight."
"M'kay," Ratchet sighed falling back into slumber …
"What have you done!" Ratchet awoke with a start just in time to watch his carrier back hand Wheeljack across the face, sending him to the floor. Scared, audios hurting from his carrier's shrieking cries of fury while Wheeljack curled up into a tight ball against their carrier's repeatedly falling fists and lethally sharp talons, Ratchet could only cover his audios and shiver in fear.
"Enough!" The massive form of his creator came into view. Relived, and scared Ratchet began to sob as his creator's enormous hands easily lifted Carrier and Wheeljack off the ground. "I said, enough, love."
"Oh, you're home!" Carrier cried, sobbing into Creator's chest. "Wheel-wheeljack's been oh, love - he's been poisoning Ratchet!"
"Oh, son." Creator sighed, "You wanted a brother so badly, did you do this to get our attention?"
"No! It wasn't me!" Wheeljack cried, hanging from Creator's firm grip like a manticore kitten hanging by its scruff. "Look! I found -"
"He's been lying this whole time!" Carrier shrieked, drowning Jack's explanation. "He's trying to kill my baby!"
"Hush," Creator soothed gently, calming Carrier instantly, "Love, the King needs me in the Great Tree again. I will take Jack with me and leave Ratchet with you." Ratchet looked up to his creators, large optics scared. "Oh, little one, Carrier loves you." The massive hands set down Carrier and Wheeljack to scoop up Ratchet and cradle him gently. "Once Carrier makes you all better I'll take you flying, sound fun?"
"Uh huh," Ratchet agreed as he nodded into Creator's chest, hugging the large chest tightly with such innocent faith…
Ratchet met his reflection's optics in the river, and realized he was keening old sorrows into his hand across his nasal ridge and mouth, muffling the age blunted tears. Back in the common lands Patch had spoken of patients suffering from abuse. Now, here, sitting on his knees and sobbing into his hand like a youngling, Ratchet realized he had suffered as a victim most of his life.
His carrier had fed him poison for vorns, used soft spoken, barbed words to undermine any confidence he might have been able to develop, then threw him out in his first heat - straight into Tracks' clutches. He shuddered, another sob ringing in his audios. A worse fear suddenly surged through his spark - if Ratchet cast aside Soundwave's affection, if he refused the twins and tried to raise First Aid, Groove, Streetwise, Hotspot and Blades on his own who would protect the mechlings from him?
Optics shuddering, frame trembling Ratchet found himself remembering every moment of terror under his carrier's talons, every orn his creator and brother returned from their journeys to the kings' tree and hope that this time Creator would finally see Ratchet's pain and make Carrier go away. Only, Carrier never did.
Ratchet trembled, he had no one to protect the younglings from the sadistic streak he feared he had inherited from his carrier. Back, when he had taken Aid on this trip Ratchet had just looked forward to spending time with his youngling, being with his baby, making at least one good memory no one else could take away. Now he feared he had lost the last chance at happiness before he faced his creators, his carrier's cruelty, and his creator's blindness to his mate's actions.
"I don't want to go back alone." Ratchet wept into his hands, darkness enveloping his spark until a tiny, trembling flutter reminded him that his emotions were no longer his alone. "I'm sorry, little one." Ratchet swallowed tightly, placing a hand over his chest where his bearing scar had once been. Now, his chest was solid white, his frame looked more like Wheeljack's, broad and angular. The spark he carried fluttered again, making him smile slightly.
"Uncle Ratch?" Hot Spots' voice sounded by Ratchet's side.
"Yes, Spots, I'm here." Ratchet replied in his normal gruff voice, as he looked to the youngster, and realized from the young, worried optics that he had been watched. "My carrier did unforgivable things to me when I was Aid's age. I've lived my entire life afraid of the one harpy I should have been able to trust with my life. I'm afraid my carrier will do the same thing to Aid, and terrified I'll end up the same way."
"You've never hurt us." Hot Spot replied with naive, unshakable faith, then sat beside Ratchet on the cool ground. "You killed the hunter for us." Uncertain how to help Spots leaned against Ratchet's shoulder, helm canted slightly against the white shoulder plating. "I - I don't trust the gryphons, and I don't know that siren, but Uncle Ratch, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe have been good to all of us. I know what I said before, but can't you give them all a chance?"
Ratchet sighed, absently hugging Hot Spot close like a lifeline. "I don't have a choice, Spots." He maneuvered the younger harpy's helm under his chin, holding the slightly larger harpy like he would have Aid. "I can't return to my creators' nest without being part of a harem. They have the right to terminate me by our own laws. I can't keep you and the others safe in our nesting grounds without a harem, others will take you. And," Ratchet huffed exhaustedly voice still thick with grief and fear, "I can't raise Aid and a new spark without help."
Hot Spot wrapped his long fingers around Ratchet's arm, giving what silent support he could to his half-brother's carrier. "Tracks has several femmes he'll never sire younglings with. Those were arranged matings and they can't stand each other. Bore-Round calls them 'matings of convenience'."
Ratchet nodded silently, thinking of Track's oldest mate, the one who had been with him for as long as anyone could remember. They had never had younglings, and she rarely looked happy with Tracks. Despite the unease in Ratchet's tank he had to admit the idea had merit. "We'll talk in the morning. Let's gather some food for the others and get some rest."
Ratchet held Hot Spot for just a moment loner then released him, letting them both get to work on feeding the many mouths of their ever expanding cadre.
"You can't get rid of us." Sunstreaker's face filled Ratchet's vision as he blearily looked through barely open optics.
"Wha - ?" Ratchet slowly rose, his frame trembling with latent exhaustion from the previous day's long exertions. He looked around the barely lit bole he lay curled within and realized it was still false dawn, long before sunrise. "Can't we talk about this later?"
"No," Sideswipe leaned in, optics still cast in a dark, unhappy scowl. "We have done everything you asked us to. We caught you in heat but let you go, we won you and fed you, received food in return and we let you call a do-over. We have watched you, protected you, trained your younglings and we love you! You cannot just call it quits now."
Ratchet fell back to lie on the floor with a soft thump, his hand over his eyes as he swallowed tightly against the grief that seemed to be a solid part of his spark since yesterday. He huffed a deep sigh again. It was only yesterday that Soundwave ruined his chances of happiness. It was only yesterday he realized he loved both Twins and Soundwave equally. It was only slagging yesterday that his shuttered memories of suffering at his creators' hands all his youngling hood came forward and he realized he was terrified to raise a youngling alone.
"We made a contract, harpy." Sunstreaker hissed hear Ratchet's audio, his exvent slithering over Ratchet's neck like a heated lover's caress. "We protect you, guard you, train your younglings to hunt and fight. And, in return, you let us woo you. We have held our part of the bargain faithfully."
Ratchet finally let his hand slide down his face and lie across the unblemished plating of his own chest. "Tell me what to do." He whispered, "I love you both, but I keep hurting you. I want you, but I want Soundwave as well. Tell me to get rid of him, his younglings and I will - but I don't want to." Pained optics stared up at the twins, brimming with old pain and grief and a new fear that scared Sunstreaker more than facing any number of hunters ever could.
"Ratchet?" Sideswipe whispered, lying close in his gryphon form, helm and heavy beak resting lightly on Ratchet's abdominal plating. "What happened?"
Sunstreaker sat close, his long metal feathers sticking out like feathered blades ready to defend his prospective mate from whatever harmed him. "Who hurt you?" The golden gryphon snarled, barely above a whisper, his optics blazing in the pre-dawn gloom like beacons of lethal fire.
"It happened a long, long time ago." Ratchet sighed, his young face at odds with his harrowed words, and aged optics.
Sunstreaker leaned close, one razor sharp talon spreading across Ratchet's chest with infinite tenderness as he stared down into the harpy's optics, "Bull shit."
Ratchet flinched back at the harsh words, but was silenced as Sunstreaker continued.
"You're barely older than Hot Spot. You hide it well, but you're too slagging young to be so hurt. Who did this?" Sunstreaker repeated his demand.
Ratchet looked away, unable to watch the twins as they realized they had been waisting their time with a damaged spark. They could do better than him, Ratchet had just been too busy living for the first time in his life to remember that little fact. He spoke softly, his optics locked on the far wall, filled with shame as he retold his youngling hood and the fear of his carrier.
As Ratchet spoke the bole slowly brightened, but he failed to notice, lost in dark memories. He missed Hot Spots waking up his siblings, and Soundwave's brood or the dangerously glowing yellow optic that stared out from Soundwave's mask as the siren stayed to listen. Ratchet could only remember his misplaced faith his his carrier and his false trust in his creator's love.
The sun slowly rose and Ratchet continued his tale, finding the words pouring out of him like pus from a festered wound. He wanted to stop, he wanted the words to cease and the memories to fade once more. Yet the memories kept coming, dark reminders of his youngling hood coming to the fore he had forced himself to forget.
"When I went back, looking to my creators for sanctuary from Tracks," Ratchet swallowed his hiccuped keening, "They banished me until the youngling arrived. I am trapped between them and Tracks by my own people. And I am afraid I will do the same to Aid." Ratchet realized he was hoarse, and thirsty. He wanted some energon and to fall back into recharge - preferably to never wake up again.
A deep, rumbling polytonal growl of rage broke Ratchet out of his depressed exhaustion and realized the rumbling was coming from all around him. Sunstreaker now sat in his common form and held him like a youngling, Sideswipe sat close, holding Ratchet's left hand clutched in his massive talon and Soundwive, cradled his right. Beyond his trio of tentative lovers Ratchet realized that midday sunlight streamed into the bole and his younglings were nowhere in sight.
"Younglings: hunting; Hot Spot: brave, smart." Soundwave intoned, his glowing optic and tightly controlled voice belying his rage. "Ratchet: worth fighting for."
Ratchet swallowed tightly, he had expected rejection, but the hands that held him close told him that he was not going to be abandoned. He smiled, abashedly. "I - I, I want to be with all of you." He looked to each set of optics sadly, "But I'll only hurt you. Like I did last night."
Sideswipe smirked, somewhere between this morning and now his smile had found itself again, "We knew what we were getting into. You told us from the start a harem has its three. We just figured since we weren't harpies it would count anyways. Now, your people cannot keep us from claiming our own territory - if we survive each other on the way." He spoke the last as a murmured afterthought.
Ratchet chuckled weakly, optics lighting ever so slightly as his potential mates' winning grins - or in Soundwave's case his gently glowing optic. "I want to believe we can make this work, but I can't." He sat up slowly, pulling out of Sunstreaker's embrace.
"We made a contract, Ratchet." Sunstreaker rumbled, optics dark once more, "You need guards while you are carrying, and training for your younglings. Until that spark comes you're stuck with us. You know our terms."
Ratchet nodded silently, spark lightening that the gryphon pair still wanted to be with him despite all that had happened since their budding affection on the beach two so very long days ago. "I do."
"Let me make a similar contract: Until new spark comes let me stay with you." Soundwave requested, helm bowed. "My bargain: I locate paths no hunters tread."
"How?" Sideswipe demanded, unconsciously mantling his wings over Ratchet's weary frame.
"My voice: controls others; my mind: hears others." Soundwave filled in smoothly, "I will listen for those who would harm us."
Sunstreaker looked to his twin, optics wary. It was tempting to say yes, to let the other protect them without putting any of them at risk by flying overhead. "Agreed," Sunstreaker turned on Soundwave menacingly, his optics nearly white with lethal intent. "With conditions." Once Soundwave nodded too swiftly from the fear of the looming gryphon, Sunstreaker continued, "If you sing any of us, or harm any of Ratchet's younglings in any way, I will kill you.
"Gryphons will crush an egg, will dash a youngling to the ground or rip the unharvested spark from a carrier's chest without flinching. Wether the youngling you carry is mature enough to harvest or not, betray us and both are forfeit." Sunstreaker stared hard at Soundwave a moment longer, optics intense until the siren finally nodded and looked away.
Ratchet sighed, he did not like the arrangement, but if it kept Soundwave out of his helm it was worth it. "Fine, You two got one do-over. Now, so does Soundwave." He turned to the siren, "Yesterday doesn't count, it was a fluke. You have until your new spark is mature enough for harvest to win me or you leave and never come back." Ratchet's optics remained slitted as he spoke lowly. The pain of betrayal still a brilliant, painful, shard of anger in his chest.
"Acceptable." Soundwave lifted his mask, showing his beautiful face full of the somber remorse his voice could not express. "I cannot be forgiven, but I will earn my place in your harem, Ratchet."
"I don't like it." Sideswipe snarled, His massive wings mantled further behind Ratchet protecting the harpy from Soundwave's advances.
"Me neither." Sunstreaker rumbled thoughtful, "You sang Ratchet into mating with you. You possess the power to sing all of us into running last night. Three mechs, eight younglings sung simultaneously from near sunset until past dark. You are too powerful." Sunstreaker shifted from his common form back to his gryphon form, sidling to sit near his brother. Red and yellow the gryphons leaned close to Soundwave as they clutched Ratchet tightly between them, their optics shinning like beacons in the streaming sunlight invading their bole.
"Unless if it is to save a life, you have no power over us." Sunstreaker and Sideswipe intoned in unison, their fore claws raised as one. Their talons crackled with blue crackling bolts of power. With their words Soundwave became motionless, as if frozen. The gryphons' talons touched him, imparted something to him with their feather light caress that made the siren's dark blue plumage glow like foxfire. Then it was over.
Ratchet blinked as everything suddenly returned to normal. The small feathers on the back of his neck still standing out from the raw display of power. Ratchet blinked, he had been in his common form before. The twin's display of power had scared Ratchet into his harpy form unknowning of what he did. He swallowed tightly, fear and nerves making his wing tips tremble.
Sunstreaker smirked at Soundwave, his beak gaping wider as he chuckled. Soundwave, shaken, tore off his mask and stared at the gryphons in shock. The siren's mouth open and shut, a slight squeak the only sound he could emit. "My song: silenced" Scared optics stared at the gryphons before turning on Ratcet. "Threat to you: no longer."
Ratchet stared at the three mechs before him. Soundwave could control a small army by the power of his voice alone. He could read minds, and anticipate the actions of others. Sideswipe was a prankster, mischievous and powerful. Sunstreaker was quiet, outwardly dangerous and powerful as well. How the brothers compared to each other Ratchet was not sure, but for once he feared the ones pursuing him beyond their obvious capabilities.
Ratchet looked at each in turn, feeling small compared to each of them, and tiny compared to them collectively. They all were taller than him, each one held more mass than him, and they had magic or songs where he had nothing. Ratchet looked to his hands, his mind wondering what, if anything he had that could attract these mechs to him, or protect himself from them.
"Ratchet?" the healer blinked, unaware he had lost himself to his musings. He looked up to Sideswipe, the red gryphon now huddled close next to Sunstreaker and Soundwave as all three loomed protectively over him. "Are you alright?"
Ratchet snorted and shook his head, suddenly tired of the insecurity that plagued his spark. Maybe it was a side effect of being sparked, to flash from elated to depressed and question everything. Ratchet was not sure, he had never been able to speak to a mech-charrier before on the effects of being with spark.
"I'm - a bit overwhelmed." Ratchet ground out, crossing his arms across his chassis, "Two days ago I knew what my future held. I was going to continue my travels with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe; steak a claim on the outskirts of the harpy lands and raise my family. Now, I have to accept that all three of you are capable of bending me to your wills, either by magic, song or by force. I have all three of you competing to be in this harem I'm not sure I want. And, I still have to deal with my creators -"
"Not alone." Sunstreaker ground out, then stepped closer, lifting one massive claw to tenderly raise Ratchet's chin. "I will never hurt you. We will never hurt you." Ratchet stared into the icy blue optics before him and knew, at least the twins, would keep their word. He glanced at Soundwave, and wondered if siren could be trusted, and if not, what he would do with Soundwave's younglings he had secretly cherished since meeting them vorns ago.
Ratchet sighed, "No, not this time." He agreed with Sunstreaker, he could not face his creators alone anymore. Resolutely he looked at his three prospective mates and smiled darkly. "I've got a plan." With a resolute smirk Ratchet stood and left the bole. He felt his purseurers behind him as he stepped into the humid afternoon sunlight. Below, looking little more than specks from the height of the tree were the younglings playing together. With a smile Ratchet spread his wings and leapt into the sky.
Hot Spot laughed from where he lounged on the river bank. Ravage and Blades were playfighting in the shallows, Ratbat and Sundor played in the low branches of a nearby tree. Streetwise, First Aid and Groove were fishing downstream, their bounty increasing with every gleeful screech of victory.
"Can we stay like this forever?" Sundor asked as he settled by Hot Spot. Happily tired from their morning's play the younglings began settling down together. Ravage curled up next to First Aid, cuddling against the youngest harpy.
"Maybe," Hot Spots replied slowly, "If they don't kill each other." He tilted his helm backwards towards the bole Ratchet and the other adults were gathered.
"Soundwave just interfaces them," Ratbat shrugged, "Then they're gone."
:: Ratchet will stay. He loves all of us. The gryphons like you harpies. Soundwave loves Ratchet. The gryphons will do anything for Ratchet, even deal with Soundwave. We will be family, when our new sib is harvested. :: Ravage purred with hopeful determination, her voice little more than a whisper in their minds.
"So, what will a harpy-gryphon look like? Or a harpy-siren?" Streetwise asked as he helped haul in the stacks of fish he and his brothers had caught.
"We will just have to be patient." Ratchet answered. He stepped from the shadows with a wan smile followed by Sunstreaker, Sideswipe and Soundwave.
Spots stood quickly, stepping close to Ratchet, "How are you?" Worried young optics looked Ratchet over nervously.
The carrier-mech smiled slightly, "I'm better. I think having enough energon is letting my systems burn off excess energy by having mood swings." He snorted, "Maybe I should short my energon and save myself the grief."
"Ratchet." Sideswipe warned, "Don't even think about it."
Ratchet winked at the younglings, making the three youngest, First Aid, Ratbat and Sundor giggle, "I wasn't serious. Starving during my first carrying was enough for one lifetime."
"Keep it that way." Sunstreaker rumbled protectively, optics worried.
"Quiet: voices." Soundwave broke the conversation, he turned his helm, looking towards the direction they had to travel next orn.
Ratchet looked behind him, over Soundwave's shoulder. His spark fluttered, his legs tensed to leap at danger or launch himself into the sky. Instead he froze, lingering on the wind was a stench he knew too well and prayed he would never scent again. It was the scent of death.
to be continued ...
Fandom: Transformers AU
Author: ledishae and deathmustang
Pairing/Charachters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Ratchet, ensemble
Rating: R
Summary: Harpies, creatures with angelic faces and the bodies and talons of the fiercest hunting avians, had long been rivals of the gryphons, the eagle/lion beasts of legendary might. Yet, being in the wrong place at just the right time brings three would be enemies together against a common foe.
Warnings: Emotional turmoil, mentions of death
Word Count: 4788
Disclaimer: All Transformers characters belong to their respective owners, I'm just having a little fun.
A/N:: Warnings for depictions of abuse, emotional trauma, and angst.
"Ratchet," a warm, doting voice cooed gently, bringing a sleepy smile to the little harpy curled snugly in his little nest. The beloved figure nestled carefully on the edge of the miniature nest, a heavy, clawed wingtip brushed tenderly against Ratchet's young brow. "How are you feeling?"
Little Ratchet writhed in his berth, tiny clawed wings reaching beseechingly to the larger figure, "Tank hurt, Carrier." This little voice whined plaintively. Ratchet was too small for his age, little claws were delicate, continuously flaking and jagged. The little one could not keep much energon down, and stayed in his nest for weeks, too weak to run, to fly.
"Oh, sweetling, you're still sick." The voice soothed above him, feathers changing to fingers as his carrier brought over a small bowl full of jellied energon made thicker so Ratchet wouldn't choke. "This will make your tank all better." The words were spoken with promise and young Ratchet could only have faith in his carrier as all younglings did …
"Ratchet!" The young harpy came awake with a start, looking weekly to the round entrance to his little room.
"W'ja?" He mumbled, mangling his brother's name, "Have nightmare?"
"No, Ratch, listen! Ratch, Carrier's been making you sick." Wheeljack slunk into Ratchet's room, holding a small bowl in his wing tips. "Do you remember Creator telling us about apophyllite drupes?" Wheeljack asked looking concerned on his little brother. The drupes were hard shelled things that did not seem to know if they were nuts or berries.
"Uh huh," Ratchet mumbled tiredly, still weak and sick despite the passing vorns since he first fell ill. "Creator said they - change our food?"
"That's right." Jack smiled proudly, "It makes our food into poison. Ratch, Carrier's been feeding you apophyllite." He held up the bowl he carried, showing Ratchet the brown shell lined interiorly with shimmering white crystals. "I'm telling creator, he's coming home tonight."
"M'kay," Ratchet sighed falling back into slumber …
"What have you done!" Ratchet awoke with a start just in time to watch his carrier back hand Wheeljack across the face, sending him to the floor. Scared, audios hurting from his carrier's shrieking cries of fury while Wheeljack curled up into a tight ball against their carrier's repeatedly falling fists and lethally sharp talons, Ratchet could only cover his audios and shiver in fear.
"Enough!" The massive form of his creator came into view. Relived, and scared Ratchet began to sob as his creator's enormous hands easily lifted Carrier and Wheeljack off the ground. "I said, enough, love."
"Oh, you're home!" Carrier cried, sobbing into Creator's chest. "Wheel-wheeljack's been oh, love - he's been poisoning Ratchet!"
"Oh, son." Creator sighed, "You wanted a brother so badly, did you do this to get our attention?"
"No! It wasn't me!" Wheeljack cried, hanging from Creator's firm grip like a manticore kitten hanging by its scruff. "Look! I found -"
"He's been lying this whole time!" Carrier shrieked, drowning Jack's explanation. "He's trying to kill my baby!"
"Hush," Creator soothed gently, calming Carrier instantly, "Love, the King needs me in the Great Tree again. I will take Jack with me and leave Ratchet with you." Ratchet looked up to his creators, large optics scared. "Oh, little one, Carrier loves you." The massive hands set down Carrier and Wheeljack to scoop up Ratchet and cradle him gently. "Once Carrier makes you all better I'll take you flying, sound fun?"
"Uh huh," Ratchet agreed as he nodded into Creator's chest, hugging the large chest tightly with such innocent faith…
Ratchet met his reflection's optics in the river, and realized he was keening old sorrows into his hand across his nasal ridge and mouth, muffling the age blunted tears. Back in the common lands Patch had spoken of patients suffering from abuse. Now, here, sitting on his knees and sobbing into his hand like a youngling, Ratchet realized he had suffered as a victim most of his life.
His carrier had fed him poison for vorns, used soft spoken, barbed words to undermine any confidence he might have been able to develop, then threw him out in his first heat - straight into Tracks' clutches. He shuddered, another sob ringing in his audios. A worse fear suddenly surged through his spark - if Ratchet cast aside Soundwave's affection, if he refused the twins and tried to raise First Aid, Groove, Streetwise, Hotspot and Blades on his own who would protect the mechlings from him?
Optics shuddering, frame trembling Ratchet found himself remembering every moment of terror under his carrier's talons, every orn his creator and brother returned from their journeys to the kings' tree and hope that this time Creator would finally see Ratchet's pain and make Carrier go away. Only, Carrier never did.
Ratchet trembled, he had no one to protect the younglings from the sadistic streak he feared he had inherited from his carrier. Back, when he had taken Aid on this trip Ratchet had just looked forward to spending time with his youngling, being with his baby, making at least one good memory no one else could take away. Now he feared he had lost the last chance at happiness before he faced his creators, his carrier's cruelty, and his creator's blindness to his mate's actions.
"I don't want to go back alone." Ratchet wept into his hands, darkness enveloping his spark until a tiny, trembling flutter reminded him that his emotions were no longer his alone. "I'm sorry, little one." Ratchet swallowed tightly, placing a hand over his chest where his bearing scar had once been. Now, his chest was solid white, his frame looked more like Wheeljack's, broad and angular. The spark he carried fluttered again, making him smile slightly.
"Uncle Ratch?" Hot Spots' voice sounded by Ratchet's side.
"Yes, Spots, I'm here." Ratchet replied in his normal gruff voice, as he looked to the youngster, and realized from the young, worried optics that he had been watched. "My carrier did unforgivable things to me when I was Aid's age. I've lived my entire life afraid of the one harpy I should have been able to trust with my life. I'm afraid my carrier will do the same thing to Aid, and terrified I'll end up the same way."
"You've never hurt us." Hot Spot replied with naive, unshakable faith, then sat beside Ratchet on the cool ground. "You killed the hunter for us." Uncertain how to help Spots leaned against Ratchet's shoulder, helm canted slightly against the white shoulder plating. "I - I don't trust the gryphons, and I don't know that siren, but Uncle Ratch, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe have been good to all of us. I know what I said before, but can't you give them all a chance?"
Ratchet sighed, absently hugging Hot Spot close like a lifeline. "I don't have a choice, Spots." He maneuvered the younger harpy's helm under his chin, holding the slightly larger harpy like he would have Aid. "I can't return to my creators' nest without being part of a harem. They have the right to terminate me by our own laws. I can't keep you and the others safe in our nesting grounds without a harem, others will take you. And," Ratchet huffed exhaustedly voice still thick with grief and fear, "I can't raise Aid and a new spark without help."
Hot Spot wrapped his long fingers around Ratchet's arm, giving what silent support he could to his half-brother's carrier. "Tracks has several femmes he'll never sire younglings with. Those were arranged matings and they can't stand each other. Bore-Round calls them 'matings of convenience'."
Ratchet nodded silently, thinking of Track's oldest mate, the one who had been with him for as long as anyone could remember. They had never had younglings, and she rarely looked happy with Tracks. Despite the unease in Ratchet's tank he had to admit the idea had merit. "We'll talk in the morning. Let's gather some food for the others and get some rest."
Ratchet held Hot Spot for just a moment loner then released him, letting them both get to work on feeding the many mouths of their ever expanding cadre.
"You can't get rid of us." Sunstreaker's face filled Ratchet's vision as he blearily looked through barely open optics.
"Wha - ?" Ratchet slowly rose, his frame trembling with latent exhaustion from the previous day's long exertions. He looked around the barely lit bole he lay curled within and realized it was still false dawn, long before sunrise. "Can't we talk about this later?"
"No," Sideswipe leaned in, optics still cast in a dark, unhappy scowl. "We have done everything you asked us to. We caught you in heat but let you go, we won you and fed you, received food in return and we let you call a do-over. We have watched you, protected you, trained your younglings and we love you! You cannot just call it quits now."
Ratchet fell back to lie on the floor with a soft thump, his hand over his eyes as he swallowed tightly against the grief that seemed to be a solid part of his spark since yesterday. He huffed a deep sigh again. It was only yesterday that Soundwave ruined his chances of happiness. It was only yesterday he realized he loved both Twins and Soundwave equally. It was only slagging yesterday that his shuttered memories of suffering at his creators' hands all his youngling hood came forward and he realized he was terrified to raise a youngling alone.
"We made a contract, harpy." Sunstreaker hissed hear Ratchet's audio, his exvent slithering over Ratchet's neck like a heated lover's caress. "We protect you, guard you, train your younglings to hunt and fight. And, in return, you let us woo you. We have held our part of the bargain faithfully."
Ratchet finally let his hand slide down his face and lie across the unblemished plating of his own chest. "Tell me what to do." He whispered, "I love you both, but I keep hurting you. I want you, but I want Soundwave as well. Tell me to get rid of him, his younglings and I will - but I don't want to." Pained optics stared up at the twins, brimming with old pain and grief and a new fear that scared Sunstreaker more than facing any number of hunters ever could.
"Ratchet?" Sideswipe whispered, lying close in his gryphon form, helm and heavy beak resting lightly on Ratchet's abdominal plating. "What happened?"
Sunstreaker sat close, his long metal feathers sticking out like feathered blades ready to defend his prospective mate from whatever harmed him. "Who hurt you?" The golden gryphon snarled, barely above a whisper, his optics blazing in the pre-dawn gloom like beacons of lethal fire.
"It happened a long, long time ago." Ratchet sighed, his young face at odds with his harrowed words, and aged optics.
Sunstreaker leaned close, one razor sharp talon spreading across Ratchet's chest with infinite tenderness as he stared down into the harpy's optics, "Bull shit."
Ratchet flinched back at the harsh words, but was silenced as Sunstreaker continued.
"You're barely older than Hot Spot. You hide it well, but you're too slagging young to be so hurt. Who did this?" Sunstreaker repeated his demand.
Ratchet looked away, unable to watch the twins as they realized they had been waisting their time with a damaged spark. They could do better than him, Ratchet had just been too busy living for the first time in his life to remember that little fact. He spoke softly, his optics locked on the far wall, filled with shame as he retold his youngling hood and the fear of his carrier.
As Ratchet spoke the bole slowly brightened, but he failed to notice, lost in dark memories. He missed Hot Spots waking up his siblings, and Soundwave's brood or the dangerously glowing yellow optic that stared out from Soundwave's mask as the siren stayed to listen. Ratchet could only remember his misplaced faith his his carrier and his false trust in his creator's love.
The sun slowly rose and Ratchet continued his tale, finding the words pouring out of him like pus from a festered wound. He wanted to stop, he wanted the words to cease and the memories to fade once more. Yet the memories kept coming, dark reminders of his youngling hood coming to the fore he had forced himself to forget.
"When I went back, looking to my creators for sanctuary from Tracks," Ratchet swallowed his hiccuped keening, "They banished me until the youngling arrived. I am trapped between them and Tracks by my own people. And I am afraid I will do the same to Aid." Ratchet realized he was hoarse, and thirsty. He wanted some energon and to fall back into recharge - preferably to never wake up again.
A deep, rumbling polytonal growl of rage broke Ratchet out of his depressed exhaustion and realized the rumbling was coming from all around him. Sunstreaker now sat in his common form and held him like a youngling, Sideswipe sat close, holding Ratchet's left hand clutched in his massive talon and Soundwive, cradled his right. Beyond his trio of tentative lovers Ratchet realized that midday sunlight streamed into the bole and his younglings were nowhere in sight.
"Younglings: hunting; Hot Spot: brave, smart." Soundwave intoned, his glowing optic and tightly controlled voice belying his rage. "Ratchet: worth fighting for."
Ratchet swallowed tightly, he had expected rejection, but the hands that held him close told him that he was not going to be abandoned. He smiled, abashedly. "I - I, I want to be with all of you." He looked to each set of optics sadly, "But I'll only hurt you. Like I did last night."
Sideswipe smirked, somewhere between this morning and now his smile had found itself again, "We knew what we were getting into. You told us from the start a harem has its three. We just figured since we weren't harpies it would count anyways. Now, your people cannot keep us from claiming our own territory - if we survive each other on the way." He spoke the last as a murmured afterthought.
Ratchet chuckled weakly, optics lighting ever so slightly as his potential mates' winning grins - or in Soundwave's case his gently glowing optic. "I want to believe we can make this work, but I can't." He sat up slowly, pulling out of Sunstreaker's embrace.
"We made a contract, Ratchet." Sunstreaker rumbled, optics dark once more, "You need guards while you are carrying, and training for your younglings. Until that spark comes you're stuck with us. You know our terms."
Ratchet nodded silently, spark lightening that the gryphon pair still wanted to be with him despite all that had happened since their budding affection on the beach two so very long days ago. "I do."
"Let me make a similar contract: Until new spark comes let me stay with you." Soundwave requested, helm bowed. "My bargain: I locate paths no hunters tread."
"How?" Sideswipe demanded, unconsciously mantling his wings over Ratchet's weary frame.
"My voice: controls others; my mind: hears others." Soundwave filled in smoothly, "I will listen for those who would harm us."
Sunstreaker looked to his twin, optics wary. It was tempting to say yes, to let the other protect them without putting any of them at risk by flying overhead. "Agreed," Sunstreaker turned on Soundwave menacingly, his optics nearly white with lethal intent. "With conditions." Once Soundwave nodded too swiftly from the fear of the looming gryphon, Sunstreaker continued, "If you sing any of us, or harm any of Ratchet's younglings in any way, I will kill you.
"Gryphons will crush an egg, will dash a youngling to the ground or rip the unharvested spark from a carrier's chest without flinching. Wether the youngling you carry is mature enough to harvest or not, betray us and both are forfeit." Sunstreaker stared hard at Soundwave a moment longer, optics intense until the siren finally nodded and looked away.
Ratchet sighed, he did not like the arrangement, but if it kept Soundwave out of his helm it was worth it. "Fine, You two got one do-over. Now, so does Soundwave." He turned to the siren, "Yesterday doesn't count, it was a fluke. You have until your new spark is mature enough for harvest to win me or you leave and never come back." Ratchet's optics remained slitted as he spoke lowly. The pain of betrayal still a brilliant, painful, shard of anger in his chest.
"Acceptable." Soundwave lifted his mask, showing his beautiful face full of the somber remorse his voice could not express. "I cannot be forgiven, but I will earn my place in your harem, Ratchet."
"I don't like it." Sideswipe snarled, His massive wings mantled further behind Ratchet protecting the harpy from Soundwave's advances.
"Me neither." Sunstreaker rumbled thoughtful, "You sang Ratchet into mating with you. You possess the power to sing all of us into running last night. Three mechs, eight younglings sung simultaneously from near sunset until past dark. You are too powerful." Sunstreaker shifted from his common form back to his gryphon form, sidling to sit near his brother. Red and yellow the gryphons leaned close to Soundwave as they clutched Ratchet tightly between them, their optics shinning like beacons in the streaming sunlight invading their bole.
"Unless if it is to save a life, you have no power over us." Sunstreaker and Sideswipe intoned in unison, their fore claws raised as one. Their talons crackled with blue crackling bolts of power. With their words Soundwave became motionless, as if frozen. The gryphons' talons touched him, imparted something to him with their feather light caress that made the siren's dark blue plumage glow like foxfire. Then it was over.
Ratchet blinked as everything suddenly returned to normal. The small feathers on the back of his neck still standing out from the raw display of power. Ratchet blinked, he had been in his common form before. The twin's display of power had scared Ratchet into his harpy form unknowning of what he did. He swallowed tightly, fear and nerves making his wing tips tremble.
Sunstreaker smirked at Soundwave, his beak gaping wider as he chuckled. Soundwave, shaken, tore off his mask and stared at the gryphons in shock. The siren's mouth open and shut, a slight squeak the only sound he could emit. "My song: silenced" Scared optics stared at the gryphons before turning on Ratcet. "Threat to you: no longer."
Ratchet stared at the three mechs before him. Soundwave could control a small army by the power of his voice alone. He could read minds, and anticipate the actions of others. Sideswipe was a prankster, mischievous and powerful. Sunstreaker was quiet, outwardly dangerous and powerful as well. How the brothers compared to each other Ratchet was not sure, but for once he feared the ones pursuing him beyond their obvious capabilities.
Ratchet looked at each in turn, feeling small compared to each of them, and tiny compared to them collectively. They all were taller than him, each one held more mass than him, and they had magic or songs where he had nothing. Ratchet looked to his hands, his mind wondering what, if anything he had that could attract these mechs to him, or protect himself from them.
"Ratchet?" the healer blinked, unaware he had lost himself to his musings. He looked up to Sideswipe, the red gryphon now huddled close next to Sunstreaker and Soundwave as all three loomed protectively over him. "Are you alright?"
Ratchet snorted and shook his head, suddenly tired of the insecurity that plagued his spark. Maybe it was a side effect of being sparked, to flash from elated to depressed and question everything. Ratchet was not sure, he had never been able to speak to a mech-charrier before on the effects of being with spark.
"I'm - a bit overwhelmed." Ratchet ground out, crossing his arms across his chassis, "Two days ago I knew what my future held. I was going to continue my travels with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe; steak a claim on the outskirts of the harpy lands and raise my family. Now, I have to accept that all three of you are capable of bending me to your wills, either by magic, song or by force. I have all three of you competing to be in this harem I'm not sure I want. And, I still have to deal with my creators -"
"Not alone." Sunstreaker ground out, then stepped closer, lifting one massive claw to tenderly raise Ratchet's chin. "I will never hurt you. We will never hurt you." Ratchet stared into the icy blue optics before him and knew, at least the twins, would keep their word. He glanced at Soundwave, and wondered if siren could be trusted, and if not, what he would do with Soundwave's younglings he had secretly cherished since meeting them vorns ago.
Ratchet sighed, "No, not this time." He agreed with Sunstreaker, he could not face his creators alone anymore. Resolutely he looked at his three prospective mates and smiled darkly. "I've got a plan." With a resolute smirk Ratchet stood and left the bole. He felt his purseurers behind him as he stepped into the humid afternoon sunlight. Below, looking little more than specks from the height of the tree were the younglings playing together. With a smile Ratchet spread his wings and leapt into the sky.
Hot Spot laughed from where he lounged on the river bank. Ravage and Blades were playfighting in the shallows, Ratbat and Sundor played in the low branches of a nearby tree. Streetwise, First Aid and Groove were fishing downstream, their bounty increasing with every gleeful screech of victory.
"Can we stay like this forever?" Sundor asked as he settled by Hot Spot. Happily tired from their morning's play the younglings began settling down together. Ravage curled up next to First Aid, cuddling against the youngest harpy.
"Maybe," Hot Spots replied slowly, "If they don't kill each other." He tilted his helm backwards towards the bole Ratchet and the other adults were gathered.
"Soundwave just interfaces them," Ratbat shrugged, "Then they're gone."
:: Ratchet will stay. He loves all of us. The gryphons like you harpies. Soundwave loves Ratchet. The gryphons will do anything for Ratchet, even deal with Soundwave. We will be family, when our new sib is harvested. :: Ravage purred with hopeful determination, her voice little more than a whisper in their minds.
"So, what will a harpy-gryphon look like? Or a harpy-siren?" Streetwise asked as he helped haul in the stacks of fish he and his brothers had caught.
"We will just have to be patient." Ratchet answered. He stepped from the shadows with a wan smile followed by Sunstreaker, Sideswipe and Soundwave.
Spots stood quickly, stepping close to Ratchet, "How are you?" Worried young optics looked Ratchet over nervously.
The carrier-mech smiled slightly, "I'm better. I think having enough energon is letting my systems burn off excess energy by having mood swings." He snorted, "Maybe I should short my energon and save myself the grief."
"Ratchet." Sideswipe warned, "Don't even think about it."
Ratchet winked at the younglings, making the three youngest, First Aid, Ratbat and Sundor giggle, "I wasn't serious. Starving during my first carrying was enough for one lifetime."
"Keep it that way." Sunstreaker rumbled protectively, optics worried.
"Quiet: voices." Soundwave broke the conversation, he turned his helm, looking towards the direction they had to travel next orn.
Ratchet looked behind him, over Soundwave's shoulder. His spark fluttered, his legs tensed to leap at danger or launch himself into the sky. Instead he froze, lingering on the wind was a stench he knew too well and prayed he would never scent again. It was the scent of death.
to be continued ...