Aporia Chapter 3
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Chapter Three: Discover the Present
Things went from bad to worse in the small span of a breem. Sam knew he wanted to be anywhere but there. He could and would live with a dented forehead; it was just a dent after all. He just desperately wanted to get away from the metal slab that Servo and the doctor were trying to hold him to. Something deep inside his head was screaming at him, basic understanding of the world telling him ‘Bad. Bad. It’s bad. Metal slabs are bad.’
He had no idea where the urgent impulses were coming from or why they were so urgent or why he was so terrified, but at that moment Sam was far from a stable frame of mind to be able to process anything. He didn’t want the new doctor. His hands were cold and his face was different. He didn’t look like Ratchet or even the Not-Ratchets walking around the lobby. Sam squirmed and kicked as Servo and the doctor tried to get a hold of him long enough to secure him to the medical berth. No, no, no, no, no….
“NO!” Sam cried, giving the air a firm kick that just barely missed Servo’s face.
“Hey now!” he said. “Stop that! Calm down D-17!”
“Calm down,” Quickfire told him in a calming voice that sounded far too forced to do any real good. He was frustrated with Sam’s wild -almost animal-behavior. What could possibly be causing such a reaction? He feared the worst. The crack in his helm must have been affecting his processor far more then either he or Servo thought. “Stop struggling, we’re only trying to help...”
“LET GO! LET GO!” Sam felt frantic. He did not want to be held down. He did not want to be operated on. They couldn’t, he wouldn’t let them. Where was Bumblebee? He said he would protect him from monsters. From this…
And Ratchet. Ratchet could help him too, but he wasn’t there. No one was. He was scared. Very scared.
He began to wail. “RATCHET! RATCHET!”
His screams only seemed to make his tormentors work more fervently.
Of all his many vorns of life, Ratchet was not sure anything could surprise him anymore. Across the universe he had been witness to tragedies and miracles…more so the former then the latter. A simple truth he had reconciled with long ago. He considered himself a capable Mech of sound judgment and more sense then the average bot. However, when he received Wheeljack’s bizarre message telling of his assistant’s odd encounter with a Sparkling earlier that cycle, Ratchet was indeed surprised.
But more so, he was curious.
A Sparkling knowing English was odd enough, but to know his Earth designation? That was impossible. But there was one possible explanation…
He had thought to send a message to Quickfire, the young one’s overseeing physician, about dropping in on his examination to possibly observe, he needed to see this strange new Spark at once. Unfortunately, he found the doctor’s comm. link blocked. A clear message that he was currently occupied. How much concentration did an examination and basic repair require? The cycle had begun so routinely and now…
Curiosity burned at his circuits and he decided to eaves drop anyhow. He was the second most senior medic in the practice and such a position did come with certain perks. He was nearing his colleague’s lab when he heard a disconcerting noise; the sound of a screaming Sparkling. Quickening his step, the closer he came to Quickfire’s office, the clearer the screams became. Something had gone horribly wrong…
…but if so why had Quickfire not called a code 13? Why had he not sent for assistance or…
“RATCHET! RATCHET!” His steps faltered as he heard his name, his Earth name, being screamed into the air by the voice of a Sparkling, laced with terror, and in crystal clear English. Logic offered no answer and before he could ponder more possibilities he heard the screams again.
“BUMBLEBEE!”
What in the pit was going on in there…?
Ratchet entered the room to see a Foundry Mech and Quickfire struggling to hold down a hopelessly frantic charcoal grey Sparkling. The small form was thrashing wildly, appearing to try and free itself. Before he could even announce his presence or offer his help, the little Sparkling turned his head and looked right at him with vibrant green optics. That was a bit unexpected…more so was the way those small optics seemed to burn into him as if looking straight through his armor at something behind him.
But then, Ratchet watched as the fear subsided into a pathetically pleading look. The child was exceedingly petrified.
“Ratchet!” His name being called out so desperately by one so small…it almost physically hurt. Distracted by his appearance, the two older Mechs’ momentary loss of attention allowed the young bot to finally jerk himself free of their many hands and hop down off of the table, tumbling and falling over himself. The caretaker and doctor scrambled to grab the fleeing young one, but he was already across the room and began to positively claw at Ratchet’s knees. “Ratchet! Ratchet!”
Ratchet saw a joyous glow radiated from the Sparkling as he attached himself to the medic’s leg, little hands grabbing onto spaces in his armor and holding on for dear life. He whirled and warbled happily at him, pressing his dented forehead to the medic’s shines. Ratchet was too stunned to come up with a response…
“Sir, please, I’m so sorry,” Quickfire said to him as he approached and tried to pull the little one off his leg, but found it a difficult task. “We have to restrain him, he seems to be in shock. His processor could be crashing!”
“Will he be OK?” The Foundry Mech seemed near hysterics. Ratchet kept a cool head, even as the Sparkling began to wail hysterically, little hands reaching out to him, beseeching him, as he was pulled away.
“RATCHET! RATCHET! Don’t let them take me please!” Something in the little one’s voice made Ratchet feel wretched. Should he know that little Spark? It was impossible that he would. He knew many Sparklings, he had treated hundreds of them. Even if he did not know this one…Ratchet felt compelled to not leave him in such a terrified state. If his presence benefited the overall objective, he would stay. So he did. Following the other Mechs as they returned to the table to restrain the young Mech to the berth, the dark grey armor wiggling as he warbled and whine feebly, Ratchet turned to Quickfire and asked of the doctor with an authoritative tone, “What caused this?”
“He was brought in to have that dent fixed, but when we tried to get him to hold still long enough to secure him, he started panicking.”
“How was he hurt initially?”
“A little Femme threw a puzzle box at him,” explained the Foundry Mech. “He’s been acting stranger ever since.”
Ratchet reached out and placed a hand on the Sparkling’s small head and his touch had an immediate calming effect. The fear subsided somewhat and the child looked up at him as if he were something to admire. Once he was successfully retrained, though still blatantly terrified, Quickfire began to examine the crack atop his helm. Ratchet kept his hand on the Sparkling’s head, a gentle reassurance if only to keep him from wailing so horribly. “Stranger?” Ratchet asked.
“He’s always been a bit odd,” the Mech admitted, clearly worried. “But this is beyond anything he’s ever done…he’s always been very quiet and well behaved.”
“What odd behavior in particular? Can you pin point them explicitly?”
“Easily: he refuses his unit name and babbles incoherently to himself sometime when he doesn’t think anyone’s listening. He doesn’t play with the others or speak that much unless you talk to him first. He spends most of his time playing with puzzles. And he doesn’t like Energon.”
That made Ratchet pause, if only because the absolute absurdity of it. “He…doesn’t like Energon? How can that be?”
“Don’t ask me, I don’t have any medical programming. He says it tastes funny,” the Foundry Mech said, agreeing wordlessly that the fact was entirely odd. “He’s been force fueled by a direct line essentially since he was sparked.”
Ratchet turned back to the little Spark laying immobile atop the examination berth, green optics continuing to stare up at him in wonder. When their optics met, he gave Ratchet a happy little chirp. “Hi…” the Sparkling said meekly. “You’re Ratchet. I know you.”
Ratchet was silent for a moment, his face betraying nothing. His lack of visible response was apparently perceived as a bad omen because the Sparkling’s suddenly looked worried. Before he had a chance to begin his wailing anew, Ratchet nodded. “Yes,” he said gently. “That is my Earth designation. Here I go by Ratchet.”
The Sparkling looked ecstatic and then grew confused. “Earth?”
So he knew English words, yet had no knowledge of Earth. “You don’t know it?” he asked. “You don’t know about Earth?”
“…no. I don’t think I do…” Sensing the information might be unsettling to the new Spark, Ratchet gave him a reassuring smile and stroked his helm. He was careful not to get in the way of Quickfire who was making short work of the little one’s injury. The little one seemed so focused on Ratchet that he did not even flinch when an interface port was connected to his systems and began to scan his systems.
The Foundry Mech, however, was not so complacent. He looked at Ratchet aghast. “What?” he asked-well, squeaked was more like it. “What does that mean?”
Ratchet regarded him for a moment, having nearly forgotten he was there. “What does what mean?”
The Mech gestures vaguely to the Sparkling. “What he just said. What he just said…is your…urth name?”
He nodded. “Earth name. Yes. During my time on the planet called Earth by the natives, I chose a designation suitable enough for them to understand.”
The poor Mech looked positively shocked at the announcement. “So…so the things he’s been saying, all that gibberish…it’s not really gibberish, then?”
Ratchet had the good grace to not smirk. The Foundry Mech was obviously having difficulty understanding just exactly what it meant that a new Spark knew things that by logic he should have no awareness of. “Well, all the ‘gibberish’ I’ve heard so far as been English,” Ratchet explained. “I cannot tell you what this means or even how this is even possible, uh…I’m sorry I did not catch your name.”
“Uh? Oh, Servo-but he doesn’t know any other languages,” said the Mech, more focused on his ward then simple pleasantries. Servo did not strike Ratchet as a Mech who was accustomed to bizarre situations. “He’s not even a quarter vorn old!”
“Clearly that’s not the case,” Ratchet replied, putting in significant effort to not come off as pessimistic. “He does indeed appear to know some English, if only a few words.”
“All scans are normal, no abnormalities or glitches were found,” Quickfire disconnected the interface from the child. “He’s perfectly healthy as far as my scans indicate.
“Healthy? You call that-that…tantrum just now normal?”
Quickfire nodded to Servo. “As you said before. Your Sparkling is just…odd.”
“I would not say odd so much as scared.” Ratchet said.
Quickfire nodded. “He’s never been to see a doctor before. I don’t think he understands what we were trying to do.”
The room became quiet then, all the Mechs seeming engrossed in their own thoughts, and logic relays began spinning furiously to cough up an answer to the puzzle. Ratchet’s curiosity was spiking and the need to do something was near unbearable. There was no way he could allow Servo to take the Sparkling back to the Foundry after he was repaired. He needed to study the young one, to observe him for a time, and perhaps verify his suspicions for his unexplainable and surely impossible knowledge. “Quickfire,” Ratchet said, effectively breaking the silence. “If it is agreeable with you as the overseeing physician, I would like to take the Sparking into observation for a few cycles.”
Qickfire looked up towards Ratchet, seeming unsurprised at the request. “What are you hoping to find?”
“I cannot help but be curious about the child’s knowledge. I have a hunch, but I need more information to verify it. I’d like to ask him some questions and watch him for a period of time and try to discern where this odd behavior originated.”
Servo stepped in before Quickfire could answer. “It isn’t just a personality trait, then?”
Ratchet gave a small shrug. “It could very well be just that. But the fact that he refuses to refuel properly leads me to believe it’s something else. We’re sparked with programming that tells us that we need Energon and we crave it from the moment we’re alive. This one seems to be the rare exception. At the very least we may be able to cure him of it. It could be as simple as glitched code sequence.” A thoughtful pause. “As for his knowledge…it may be a miraculous coincidence or it’s possible the shell he was sparked into was not completely blank.”
“You mean that someone could have tampered with it?” Servo asked.
“It’s possible. Unlikely, but possible,” said Ratchet, trying to reassure Servo that his ward was in no apparent danger. “I doubt any ill was intended. But again. I would also like to run a couple tests to rule out viruses or program glitches.”
Quickfire shrugged. “I am alright with it if Servo is comfortable with leaving the kid here.”
Both Mechs turned to the aforementioned individual for an answer. Servo did not speak for several long moments…
He was low on energy and his limbs felt heavy and useless. All movement slowed, but it did not bother him. Sam was content to lay against Ratchet’s chest armor, calmed by the faint noises his systems made as he walked about down the hall. He felt so much at peace, a feeling he could no truly remember feeling since he was sparked. Instead of the perpetual sense of unfamiliarity and being in the midst of strangers, Sam felt as if he had arrived, like he was home. Or very soon would be.
His forehead was no longer dented and a fresh new paint job had left the sight spotless of the welding seems. Had anyone not known, they would have sworn he never had a dent to begin with. He wrapped his small hand around a finger of Ratchet’s hand that was wrapped around him, as if to continuously assure himself that the neon yellow Mech was not like his dreams and would not abruptly disappear into faint memory.
Stay with me, the touch said. Please…stay with me.
A sense of calm like he never knew had overtaken him and all he was want to do was sit there and bask in the presence of the Mech. He was happiest he had ever been, even when he was playing with his puzzle boxes.
“How are you feeling?” Ratchet asked him. He could hear and feel the Mech’s voice rumble from inside his chest and from his vocalizer. Sam looked up lazily into the medic’s face.
“Hm…tired,” he replied dazedly. “Wanna recharge…” Ratchet’s hand left Sam’s side and rose up to rub the side of his face affectionately and Sam pressed into the contact, whirling happily.
“I’m not surprised,” the medic answered. “You’ve had a busy cycle, haven’t you?”
“Yeah,” Sam said, floating in a sea of contentment. “I found you. I didn’t think I would…”
“Find me?” asked Ratchet curiously. “I did not realize I had been lost.”
Sam giggled, pressing his face into the medic’s hand. “Not you,” Sam replied, a dazed mask drawing down over his face. He was so very tired all of a sudden. “Me. I was lost…”
“You were, were you? Well, where did you go, then?”
“Far away…I went far away,” Sam felt himself slipping. “No one could follow…not you…or Bumblebee…or Mikeala…”
Sam’s tired and rapidly slipping consciousness did not allow him to notice the not so subtle jerk of Ratchet’s body as he halted to a stop in the middle of the hall way.
There was a long pause and he was slipping into recharge fast.
“…You…know about Mikeala?” Ratchet’s voice grew fainter.
“…yeah…she’s…my…?”
And he slipped into a deep recharge.
Font - English
:Font: - Internal comminucations/comlink.
Chapter Three: Discover the Present
Things went from bad to worse in the small span of a breem. Sam knew he wanted to be anywhere but there. He could and would live with a dented forehead; it was just a dent after all. He just desperately wanted to get away from the metal slab that Servo and the doctor were trying to hold him to. Something deep inside his head was screaming at him, basic understanding of the world telling him ‘Bad. Bad. It’s bad. Metal slabs are bad.’
He had no idea where the urgent impulses were coming from or why they were so urgent or why he was so terrified, but at that moment Sam was far from a stable frame of mind to be able to process anything. He didn’t want the new doctor. His hands were cold and his face was different. He didn’t look like Ratchet or even the Not-Ratchets walking around the lobby. Sam squirmed and kicked as Servo and the doctor tried to get a hold of him long enough to secure him to the medical berth. No, no, no, no, no….
“NO!” Sam cried, giving the air a firm kick that just barely missed Servo’s face.
“Hey now!” he said. “Stop that! Calm down D-17!”
“Calm down,” Quickfire told him in a calming voice that sounded far too forced to do any real good. He was frustrated with Sam’s wild -almost animal-behavior. What could possibly be causing such a reaction? He feared the worst. The crack in his helm must have been affecting his processor far more then either he or Servo thought. “Stop struggling, we’re only trying to help...”
“LET GO! LET GO!” Sam felt frantic. He did not want to be held down. He did not want to be operated on. They couldn’t, he wouldn’t let them. Where was Bumblebee? He said he would protect him from monsters. From this…
And Ratchet. Ratchet could help him too, but he wasn’t there. No one was. He was scared. Very scared.
He began to wail. “RATCHET! RATCHET!”
His screams only seemed to make his tormentors work more fervently.
Of all his many vorns of life, Ratchet was not sure anything could surprise him anymore. Across the universe he had been witness to tragedies and miracles…more so the former then the latter. A simple truth he had reconciled with long ago. He considered himself a capable Mech of sound judgment and more sense then the average bot. However, when he received Wheeljack’s bizarre message telling of his assistant’s odd encounter with a Sparkling earlier that cycle, Ratchet was indeed surprised.
But more so, he was curious.
A Sparkling knowing English was odd enough, but to know his Earth designation? That was impossible. But there was one possible explanation…
He had thought to send a message to Quickfire, the young one’s overseeing physician, about dropping in on his examination to possibly observe, he needed to see this strange new Spark at once. Unfortunately, he found the doctor’s comm. link blocked. A clear message that he was currently occupied. How much concentration did an examination and basic repair require? The cycle had begun so routinely and now…
Curiosity burned at his circuits and he decided to eaves drop anyhow. He was the second most senior medic in the practice and such a position did come with certain perks. He was nearing his colleague’s lab when he heard a disconcerting noise; the sound of a screaming Sparkling. Quickening his step, the closer he came to Quickfire’s office, the clearer the screams became. Something had gone horribly wrong…
…but if so why had Quickfire not called a code 13? Why had he not sent for assistance or…
“RATCHET! RATCHET!” His steps faltered as he heard his name, his Earth name, being screamed into the air by the voice of a Sparkling, laced with terror, and in crystal clear English. Logic offered no answer and before he could ponder more possibilities he heard the screams again.
“BUMBLEBEE!”
What in the pit was going on in there…?
Ratchet entered the room to see a Foundry Mech and Quickfire struggling to hold down a hopelessly frantic charcoal grey Sparkling. The small form was thrashing wildly, appearing to try and free itself. Before he could even announce his presence or offer his help, the little Sparkling turned his head and looked right at him with vibrant green optics. That was a bit unexpected…more so was the way those small optics seemed to burn into him as if looking straight through his armor at something behind him.
But then, Ratchet watched as the fear subsided into a pathetically pleading look. The child was exceedingly petrified.
“Ratchet!” His name being called out so desperately by one so small…it almost physically hurt. Distracted by his appearance, the two older Mechs’ momentary loss of attention allowed the young bot to finally jerk himself free of their many hands and hop down off of the table, tumbling and falling over himself. The caretaker and doctor scrambled to grab the fleeing young one, but he was already across the room and began to positively claw at Ratchet’s knees. “Ratchet! Ratchet!”
Ratchet saw a joyous glow radiated from the Sparkling as he attached himself to the medic’s leg, little hands grabbing onto spaces in his armor and holding on for dear life. He whirled and warbled happily at him, pressing his dented forehead to the medic’s shines. Ratchet was too stunned to come up with a response…
“Sir, please, I’m so sorry,” Quickfire said to him as he approached and tried to pull the little one off his leg, but found it a difficult task. “We have to restrain him, he seems to be in shock. His processor could be crashing!”
“Will he be OK?” The Foundry Mech seemed near hysterics. Ratchet kept a cool head, even as the Sparkling began to wail hysterically, little hands reaching out to him, beseeching him, as he was pulled away.
“RATCHET! RATCHET! Don’t let them take me please!” Something in the little one’s voice made Ratchet feel wretched. Should he know that little Spark? It was impossible that he would. He knew many Sparklings, he had treated hundreds of them. Even if he did not know this one…Ratchet felt compelled to not leave him in such a terrified state. If his presence benefited the overall objective, he would stay. So he did. Following the other Mechs as they returned to the table to restrain the young Mech to the berth, the dark grey armor wiggling as he warbled and whine feebly, Ratchet turned to Quickfire and asked of the doctor with an authoritative tone, “What caused this?”
“He was brought in to have that dent fixed, but when we tried to get him to hold still long enough to secure him, he started panicking.”
“How was he hurt initially?”
“A little Femme threw a puzzle box at him,” explained the Foundry Mech. “He’s been acting stranger ever since.”
Ratchet reached out and placed a hand on the Sparkling’s small head and his touch had an immediate calming effect. The fear subsided somewhat and the child looked up at him as if he were something to admire. Once he was successfully retrained, though still blatantly terrified, Quickfire began to examine the crack atop his helm. Ratchet kept his hand on the Sparkling’s head, a gentle reassurance if only to keep him from wailing so horribly. “Stranger?” Ratchet asked.
“He’s always been a bit odd,” the Mech admitted, clearly worried. “But this is beyond anything he’s ever done…he’s always been very quiet and well behaved.”
“What odd behavior in particular? Can you pin point them explicitly?”
“Easily: he refuses his unit name and babbles incoherently to himself sometime when he doesn’t think anyone’s listening. He doesn’t play with the others or speak that much unless you talk to him first. He spends most of his time playing with puzzles. And he doesn’t like Energon.”
That made Ratchet pause, if only because the absolute absurdity of it. “He…doesn’t like Energon? How can that be?”
“Don’t ask me, I don’t have any medical programming. He says it tastes funny,” the Foundry Mech said, agreeing wordlessly that the fact was entirely odd. “He’s been force fueled by a direct line essentially since he was sparked.”
Ratchet turned back to the little Spark laying immobile atop the examination berth, green optics continuing to stare up at him in wonder. When their optics met, he gave Ratchet a happy little chirp. “Hi…” the Sparkling said meekly. “You’re Ratchet. I know you.”
Ratchet was silent for a moment, his face betraying nothing. His lack of visible response was apparently perceived as a bad omen because the Sparkling’s suddenly looked worried. Before he had a chance to begin his wailing anew, Ratchet nodded. “Yes,” he said gently. “That is my Earth designation. Here I go by Ratchet.”
The Sparkling looked ecstatic and then grew confused. “Earth?”
So he knew English words, yet had no knowledge of Earth. “You don’t know it?” he asked. “You don’t know about Earth?”
“…no. I don’t think I do…” Sensing the information might be unsettling to the new Spark, Ratchet gave him a reassuring smile and stroked his helm. He was careful not to get in the way of Quickfire who was making short work of the little one’s injury. The little one seemed so focused on Ratchet that he did not even flinch when an interface port was connected to his systems and began to scan his systems.
The Foundry Mech, however, was not so complacent. He looked at Ratchet aghast. “What?” he asked-well, squeaked was more like it. “What does that mean?”
Ratchet regarded him for a moment, having nearly forgotten he was there. “What does what mean?”
The Mech gestures vaguely to the Sparkling. “What he just said. What he just said…is your…urth name?”
He nodded. “Earth name. Yes. During my time on the planet called Earth by the natives, I chose a designation suitable enough for them to understand.”
The poor Mech looked positively shocked at the announcement. “So…so the things he’s been saying, all that gibberish…it’s not really gibberish, then?”
Ratchet had the good grace to not smirk. The Foundry Mech was obviously having difficulty understanding just exactly what it meant that a new Spark knew things that by logic he should have no awareness of. “Well, all the ‘gibberish’ I’ve heard so far as been English,” Ratchet explained. “I cannot tell you what this means or even how this is even possible, uh…I’m sorry I did not catch your name.”
“Uh? Oh, Servo-but he doesn’t know any other languages,” said the Mech, more focused on his ward then simple pleasantries. Servo did not strike Ratchet as a Mech who was accustomed to bizarre situations. “He’s not even a quarter vorn old!”
“Clearly that’s not the case,” Ratchet replied, putting in significant effort to not come off as pessimistic. “He does indeed appear to know some English, if only a few words.”
“All scans are normal, no abnormalities or glitches were found,” Quickfire disconnected the interface from the child. “He’s perfectly healthy as far as my scans indicate.
“Healthy? You call that-that…tantrum just now normal?”
Quickfire nodded to Servo. “As you said before. Your Sparkling is just…odd.”
“I would not say odd so much as scared.” Ratchet said.
Quickfire nodded. “He’s never been to see a doctor before. I don’t think he understands what we were trying to do.”
The room became quiet then, all the Mechs seeming engrossed in their own thoughts, and logic relays began spinning furiously to cough up an answer to the puzzle. Ratchet’s curiosity was spiking and the need to do something was near unbearable. There was no way he could allow Servo to take the Sparkling back to the Foundry after he was repaired. He needed to study the young one, to observe him for a time, and perhaps verify his suspicions for his unexplainable and surely impossible knowledge. “Quickfire,” Ratchet said, effectively breaking the silence. “If it is agreeable with you as the overseeing physician, I would like to take the Sparking into observation for a few cycles.”
Qickfire looked up towards Ratchet, seeming unsurprised at the request. “What are you hoping to find?”
“I cannot help but be curious about the child’s knowledge. I have a hunch, but I need more information to verify it. I’d like to ask him some questions and watch him for a period of time and try to discern where this odd behavior originated.”
Servo stepped in before Quickfire could answer. “It isn’t just a personality trait, then?”
Ratchet gave a small shrug. “It could very well be just that. But the fact that he refuses to refuel properly leads me to believe it’s something else. We’re sparked with programming that tells us that we need Energon and we crave it from the moment we’re alive. This one seems to be the rare exception. At the very least we may be able to cure him of it. It could be as simple as glitched code sequence.” A thoughtful pause. “As for his knowledge…it may be a miraculous coincidence or it’s possible the shell he was sparked into was not completely blank.”
“You mean that someone could have tampered with it?” Servo asked.
“It’s possible. Unlikely, but possible,” said Ratchet, trying to reassure Servo that his ward was in no apparent danger. “I doubt any ill was intended. But again. I would also like to run a couple tests to rule out viruses or program glitches.”
Quickfire shrugged. “I am alright with it if Servo is comfortable with leaving the kid here.”
Both Mechs turned to the aforementioned individual for an answer. Servo did not speak for several long moments…
He was low on energy and his limbs felt heavy and useless. All movement slowed, but it did not bother him. Sam was content to lay against Ratchet’s chest armor, calmed by the faint noises his systems made as he walked about down the hall. He felt so much at peace, a feeling he could no truly remember feeling since he was sparked. Instead of the perpetual sense of unfamiliarity and being in the midst of strangers, Sam felt as if he had arrived, like he was home. Or very soon would be.
His forehead was no longer dented and a fresh new paint job had left the sight spotless of the welding seems. Had anyone not known, they would have sworn he never had a dent to begin with. He wrapped his small hand around a finger of Ratchet’s hand that was wrapped around him, as if to continuously assure himself that the neon yellow Mech was not like his dreams and would not abruptly disappear into faint memory.
Stay with me, the touch said. Please…stay with me.
A sense of calm like he never knew had overtaken him and all he was want to do was sit there and bask in the presence of the Mech. He was happiest he had ever been, even when he was playing with his puzzle boxes.
“How are you feeling?” Ratchet asked him. He could hear and feel the Mech’s voice rumble from inside his chest and from his vocalizer. Sam looked up lazily into the medic’s face.
“Hm…tired,” he replied dazedly. “Wanna recharge…” Ratchet’s hand left Sam’s side and rose up to rub the side of his face affectionately and Sam pressed into the contact, whirling happily.
“I’m not surprised,” the medic answered. “You’ve had a busy cycle, haven’t you?”
“Yeah,” Sam said, floating in a sea of contentment. “I found you. I didn’t think I would…”
“Find me?” asked Ratchet curiously. “I did not realize I had been lost.”
Sam giggled, pressing his face into the medic’s hand. “Not you,” Sam replied, a dazed mask drawing down over his face. He was so very tired all of a sudden. “Me. I was lost…”
“You were, were you? Well, where did you go, then?”
“Far away…I went far away,” Sam felt himself slipping. “No one could follow…not you…or Bumblebee…or Mikeala…”
Sam’s tired and rapidly slipping consciousness did not allow him to notice the not so subtle jerk of Ratchet’s body as he halted to a stop in the middle of the hall way.
There was a long pause and he was slipping into recharge fast.
“…You…know about Mikeala?” Ratchet’s voice grew fainter.
“…yeah…she’s…my…?”
And he slipped into a deep recharge.