Week 2--Sparklings Post 2
Title: Always Mine (Post 2 of 2)
Prompt: Week 2--Sparklings
Characters: Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Ratchet, Various
Verse: G1-ish
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Word Count: 3,957 out of 10,000 even!
Disclaimer: Transformers is not mine in any way, shape, or form.
Author's Notes: Here is part 2 of the story. Enjoy!
~Several Millennia Later~
How he hated them.
What right did they have to strut around like they did? His twins were long dead. What gave these twins the right to still be alive?
Sideswipe was wild. He was the prankster, the joker, the entertainer. He didn’t care about the rules and purposely set out to break them, just for kicks. They were always injured, especially him, no matter how small the tussle. He always had that cocky grin, like he knew something you didn’t. Like he was light years above you.
Sunstreaker was worse. He was volatile and unstable. He was stand-offish and threw himself helm first into any confrontation, whether it be against Decepticons or fellow Autobots. He cared for no one but himself and his twin. He was cold-sparked and vain. His paintjob put even Tracks to shame.
They were dangerous and deadly. He had watched them on the battlefield countless times as they tore into their opponents. They had even taken on Megatron himself on occasions. The Decepticon gestalts were nothing to them. The twins could bring them down with only the aid of a sniper. And the Seekers? Well, he didn’t feel any sympathy for them. He hoped the damages they took from the twins’ actions hurt. It was only fair for the pain they caused him.
Ratchet was sure both twins had death wishes due to their ferocity and willingness to stand on the frontlines.
And they wouldn’t leave him alone!
Smokescreen had started a betting pool on just when the medic snapped and killed them. He was so tempted to just do it, but only stopped because it went against his nature to kill and it would hurt the Autobots. Despite being the resident pains in the aft, the two were some of the best frontline fighters they had. A necessary evil, as Prowl called them. Of course, when they were caught in a raid of the gladiator pits it went without saying they would be good on the battlefield.
They were from Kaon. Had lived there for as long as they could remember. He had felt hope bloom in his spark during that first interrogation, but the longer he knew them, the less and less the possibility that they could be his twins. They were just too different. There was nothing about them that resembled his precious younglings.
So he went on, pushing them away orn after orn. He wanted nothing to do with them. Every prank, every cheeky grin, every chipper ‘thanks, doc!’ as they hopped off the berths in his medbay grated on his nerves. He yelled and ranted at them. He threw his tools at them, chasing them off. But they kept coming back. It seemed they had made it their duty to annoy him endlessly.
He just wished they would get the hint and leave him alone.
****
The medbay was finally empty, the last patient released only breems ago. Ratchet sighed in the silence, exhausted but not yet willing to call it a cycle. He didn’t want to leave the bay in such a messy state, but his frame was dragging, making it hard to want to do anything. He leaned against the edge of a berth, absently wiping down the surface that had been cleaned to perfection a while ago.
He growled when the doors hissed open. “I swear by Primus, if any mech has already undone my repairs…”
“Ratchet?”
He froze as the soft, trembling voice cut off his rant. He turned, intakes hitching, only to glare and snarl as he caught sight of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. “What do you want?” Sunstreaker flinched at the harsh tone. He actually flinched! Ratchet mentally gave himself a pat on the back. Maybe they finally were getting the hints. Sideswipe growled low, shifting just a hair closer to his yellow counterpart.
“We finally figured it out,” the red menace said.
“Figured what out? For the love of Primus it’s too late for me to be putting up with your shenanigans. Go away,” Ratchet snapped, turning away himself.
“We figured out why you’re so familiar.”
The medic turned back to face Sunstreaker. “What?”
The golden warrior shrunk back, but a nudge from his brother had him talking again. “You’re familiar. We couldn’t remember why or where we might have seen you before, but we just knew that we’ve known you before we joined the Autobots.”
Ratchet shook his head and threw his cloth down. “I’m not dealing with this right now. If this is just some kind of prank you can go and…” The yellow twin’s behavior was off, but he wasn’t in the mood to really care at the moment.
“It’s not a prank,” Sideswipe interrupted. “Show him Sunny.”
Sunstreaker was reaching into his subspace, but Ratchet had had enough. It had been a long cycle and he was not going to stand there and let them make a fool out of him, no matter the slightly terrified looks in their optics.
“Get out of my way,” he brushed past them, intent on getting to his room and falling into his berth for the next cycle. “If I see you again before the next shift I’ll report you to Prime for harassment.”
They trumped down the hall after him, following him all the way to his quarters. He spun back around as the door opened, glaring at them. Sunstreaker lowered his gaze, but Sideswipe stood his ground. “Let us explain, Ratchet!”
“Explain what? I’m tired. If you want to bug someone go find another bot,” Ratchet turned and went into his quarters, not expecting that the red twin would stick his pede out and stop the door from closing. He barged in, pulling his brother in behind him. “What are you doing?” Ratchet demanded. “That’s it! I’m calling Optimus!”
“No, don’t! Please! Hear us out!” Sideswipe grabbed his hand. The medic dug his heels in and resisted being pulled closer. “Just listen to us!”
Sunstreaker was moving around the room, looking for something. Just what, the medic didn’t know, but he didn’t like this turn of events.
“You little Pit spawns! Let go of me and get out!”
“Got it!” Sunstreaker was pulling something off the wall.
Ratchet’s optics widened. “Put that back!” He watched as the yellow mech knelt, flattening the torn picture on the table. “Leave that alone!”
Sunstreaker paused, looking up at his twin and the medic. Sideswipe took advantage of the distraction and pulled Ratchet back against his frame. “Who drew that picture, Ratchet?”
The white mech was cursing and struggling, trying to get free of Sideswipe’s grip. “It was made by one of a set of split spark twins I cared for. If they were still alive they’d be better mechs than you are!” He jerked free and stepped away.
“How do you know they aren’t still alive?” Sunstreaker asked softly.
Ratchet glared and stomped over to him, swiping the remains of the picture off the table. “I wish they were. They’d be more enjoyable to be around than little fraggers like you!”
“You promised we would always be your twins,” Sunstreaker stated, optics wide.
Ratchet froze for a long moment, looking from one twin to the other. Both wore expressions of apprehension and hope. “I made no such promise to you,” the medic replied, his voice a low growl. “You never were, nor will you ever be, my twins. Now get out.”
“Let’s go Sunny,” Sideswipe whispered. “It’s not going to do any good.”
Sunstreaker stood and took a few steps. He shook his helm and spun back around to face Ratchet. “You have to listen to us. Please Ratchet! We’re not the same, but we are…”
“Get out!” Ratchet yelled. “Just get out!”
“Sunny,” Sideswipe gently tugged on his twin’s arm. “Leave it, Sunny.”
Sunstreaker looked like he would protest, but quietly left after his twin. Ratchet sank down onto his couch. The nerve! The rest of the command staff would be hearing about this stunt. Oh, there were disciplinary actions for their pranks, but this time the punishment would be far more severe. He would see to that himself. These twins had crossed a line and he had a good list of mechs who would want some payback for it.
Suddenly even more exhausted, he didn’t even bother to move to his berth. He slumped down, holding the half-drawing in one hand as he just let himself slip into recharge.
****
His processor hurt even before he opened his optics. With a sigh, Ratchet sat up, rubbing his neck. Recharging on the couch was not one of his brighter ideas, but he’d slept in worse positions and places before. It was with a sudden jolt that he remembered why he had stayed on the couch. With a growl he stood, fully intending to head straight for the Command Center.
A piece of something on the low table caught his optic as he turned. The paper was crumpled and wouldn’t lay flat for anything. He knelt, trying his best to smooth it out, wondering how it got there. It was faded and stained, and all the edges were ragged. It looked like it had seen a lot of use. But that wasn’t what bothered him. It was the smeared image on the paper that made his intakes hitch.
With shaking servos, he placed the two pieces of paper together. The piece that had been returned to him long ago fit closely to the edge of the new one. As he watched his hands move the pieces into position, the image cleared and caused his spark to skip a pulse.
The drawing of himself, made by Spin Out the orn before their kidnapping, was complete again.
In a flash he was on his feet, charging down the hall with both papers in his hand. His first stop was the quarters shared by the twins. When his override code showed him an empty room, he raced off. Every helm in the rec. room raised as he skidded in through the doors.
“Where are they?” he demanded.
“Who, Ratch?” Jazz asked, leaning back in his chair to see around Prowl’s doorwings.
“The twins. Where are they?” he asked again.
“What happened Ratchet?” Large hands landed on his shoulders and he became aware of the clatter of his armor as he shook. “What’s wrong?”
“The twins. They tried to prank me last night. Said they knew me from somewhere from before they were Autobots, that I was familiar. They followed me into my quarters. The things they were saying…They claimed they were my twins…”
Most of the present crew were on their feet, shouting in anger. The loss of Striker and Spin Out was still a sensitive topic, even after all this time. Optimus squeezed his shoulders. “You think it was meant as a prank?”
“I did, yes.”
Jazz was yelling at the crew to sit down and listen for an astrosecond. Ratchet was guided into a chair at the officers’ table. Ironhide slid a cube of energon across the table to him. Prowl had a datapad out and was already taking notes about the incident.
“Unfortunately, any disciplinary action will have to wait,” the SIC reported.
“Wait? Why?” the medic questioned.
“The twins were sent as protection for a scout team that left early in the cycle. They will not return for three orns.”
“Three?” Ratchet asked, disbelief plain on his faceplates. “Three orns?”
“No. Call ‘em back. Send someone else. This needs ta be dealt wit’ now,” Ironhide growled. “They ain’t gettin’ out o’ this.”
Jazz shook his helm. “Can’t. Been plannin’ this for a good while. We’ve only got this one window ta get the information we need.”
Prowl glanced at Optimus, who took the seat next to the medic. “Sir?”
The Prime frowned. “What else happened Ratchet?”
“Sunny went looking through my things. He found the torn picture Spin Out had drawn before they were taken. I don’t know what he was going to do with it. They finally left before he did anything,” Ratchet said.
“Why did he want that?” Prowl asked.
“I didn’t know at first,” Ratchet placed the picture on the table. “But I found this on my table this morning.” Carefully, he laid the crumbled paper down, trying to smooth it out some more. “And if you hold it just so…” he moved the pieces together.
“It’s a match,” Optimus said softly. “The complete picture.”
“But how did Sunstreaker get that?” Prowl wondered. “Ratchet, do you think…? The odds of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker being…”
“I know,” the medic looked miserable.
Optimus looked around the room. “We can’t call them back. We need the information that team is after. Jazz, before they get back I want you to find any information about them you can. Let’s be ready for any possibility.” He turned to the medic. “Take the cycle off, Ratchet. The rest will do you some good.”
Ratchet nodded, optics not leaving the picture before him.
****
~Three Orns Later~
“All right, mechs. The twins are scheduled to report in later this cycle. Jazz, what have you been able to find about them?” Optimus asked.
Jazz stood as Prime took his seat at the conference table. “Ah was able ta track ‘em back ta the gladiator pits. Mah reports indicate they’d been there for quite a while. They dropped in an’ out toward the end, only goin’ in for a fight when they felt like it. We were able ta get a hold o’ the medical reports that went with ‘em. They’re split sparks, and the age tagged to ‘em is close to the age our twins would be right about now.” He pressed a few buttons and the medical reports displayed on the large screen behind him.
Ratchet shook his head. “They’ve taken a lot of damage over the vorns. When I examined them, there wasn’t an original part left on them.”
Jazz nodded. “There isn’t. Ah did some further diggin’ and borrowed your reports on them. Comparin’ the earliest reports ta your current ones shows that there were a lot o’ changes ta ‘em. But then Ah went deeper and pulled up Striker and Spin Out’s medical files ta compare. Ah don’t think ya did that, doc.”
The CMO nodded. “It never occurred to me to cross-check the files. I just wanted to get them as far away as possible.”
“Did you find anything?” Prowl asked.
Jazz glanced back at the screen, then at his audience. “Ah did. Yer current reports and the earliest from the pits had some similarities. So wit’ that thought, Ah decided ta compare our twins ta them. Here’s what Ah found.” He pressed another key and a different medical report appeared side-by-side with the current one.
“Impossible!” Wheeljack’s chair dropped to all four feet from the lean it had been in. “Ratchet!”
“I see it, I see it!” Ratchet was up and moving closer to the readouts. “Between Striker, Spin Out, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker there is only one similarity. Nothing on their frames is the same…except this.” He zoomed in on the frames and his voice grew shaky. “According to this comparison, the spark signature is exactly the same, with only a few minor variations that could have been caused from injuries.”
“So what does this mean, Ratchet?” Optimus questioned.
Ratchet took a shaky breath through his intakes. “With this…it could very well be possible that the twins are ours.”
Jazz crossed his arms. “Ah also found out Sunny’s an artist. Pretty famous for his art in the Towers, too.” He projected another screen with a sample of the art. “Siders is near enough ta being the king o’ the black market. He had a very lucrative business goin’ at the end when they was in and outta the pits. Might still have several of his contacts he can pull on if we ever need something.”
Prime leaned back in his chair. “Ratchet? I will leave this to you, since you have the most at stake here.”
“I…” Ratchet scrubbed his face. “Let me speak with them. If this is right…I have to be sure.”
“All right then. Shall we send them straight to the medbay upon their return?”
“Ratch can deal with them while I check the others over,” Wheeljack said.
Optimus Prime nodded. “Very well. Dismissed.”
****
“Send them to my office, would you?” Ratchet asked as the sound of footsteps approached.
“Sure,” Wheeljack replied. “Heya Ratch? It’ll be okay. You’ll know for sure now.”
Ratchet nodded and slipped into his office. He only had to wait a few moments before the door opened again and the twins entered. Both were dirty and tired looking, with wary expressions on their faceplates.
“You wanted to see us?” Sideswipe asked. He stood slightly in front of his brother, his stance protective.
“I did,” Ratchet suddenly found it hard to get the words out. “I…that night…”
The red mech’s expression closed off. “Look, we got it. We left. We’re not yours.”
“That’s…not true,” Ratchet whispered.
Sunstreaker stepped forward, ignoring his twin’s protests. “Ratchet?” It was that same soft voice, hidden underneath the angry and confident tones the warrior now used.
The medic took the few steps closer to close the distance between them. “I need to be sure…” The yellow mech held perfectly still as the red hand reached out and was laid directly over his spark.
The pulse was strong and steady. He held out his other hand and the red twin instantly was there, letting the hand rest over his own spark. The beat was the same for both. The tingles from his sensitive hands raced up the medic’s arms and his intakes hitched. He looked up at both of them, searching their faces and optics for anything familiar.
The yellow one was terrified. His optics were pale and wide. Ratchet could see the hope blooming in them, the emotion trying to drown out the fear of rejection. The red one was more impassive. His optics were wary, but a yearning was hidden there too. He looked like he wanted to believe this was happening, but was too beaten, too spark-broken to really let himself go. Their personalities had changed in this situation. In any normal time, both would have been aggressive, assertive, and confident. Now, Sideswipe was protective, defensive, and guarded. Sunstreaker was timid, fearful, and…shy.
The more he looked at them, the more pieces of the puzzle that was these twins fell into place. They were never without the other, even when injured. They were protective of each other, always watching their backs. They were excellent at pranks and had succeeded at pulling a few on Jazz. They were good at strategies and had surprised Prowl with a few of their ideas. They could hold their own at cards against Smokescreen and could match Ironhide blow for blow in a training session. They could get a laugh out of Prime when all other efforts failed.
All because they knew.
They knew who they all were. He could see it in their optics now. They were more familiar with these Autobots than anyone could have guessed. It explained their fierceness on the battlefield. They weren’t just wild and didn’t just randomly attack. They were everywhere all at once, taking shots other mechs might not be able to withstand. They weren’t just needlessly throwing themselves into danger. They were protecting them all, watching out for the ones they cared the most about.
And as he gazed at them, he knew.
“Oh, Striker, Spin Out.”
“Ratch,” Spin Out began to purr as he tucked his face into the medic’s neck. Striker was more cautious and simply stood there, waiting for the white bot to make the first move.
“What happened to you? I thought for sure…”
Sideswipe sighed, finally moving and wrapping his arms around Ratchet’s waist. “It was the gladiator pits. The frames we had then weren’t strong enough. Our processors weren’t able to keep up either. We got a different appearance, different names. The whole change was just short of a full reformat. We had to block out everything we remembered and focus only on staying alive. That was the only thing we could do.”
Sunstreaker raised his head enough to nuzzle the side of his helm. “But we couldn’t really forget you. We always had something to remind us that there was someone else we needed to get back to. That piece of the picture helped. I lost count of how many times we went into recharge just staring at it. It was all we had, but it was enough.”
“We knew the moment the Autobots picked us up that we were getting closer. Spin was flipping out the first time we saw you,” the red bot laid his helm on the older mech’s shoulder.
“You’re so different now. I just couldn’t see it. I let my grief get the better of me. I was so jealous of seeing you both walk freely around the base. But now, all those pranks, all those little injuries make perfect sense.”
He felt the yellow painted Spin Out smile against his neck. “We had to make sure it was you. You looked the same, but we just had to check. So we did anything we could to get the chance to be close to you.”
Ratchet chuckled weakly and held them as they slid to the floor. “My dear sparks. My precious dear sparks.”
“Always?” Both twins pulled back, looking at him intently.
He watched them for a long moment, memorizing their faces. In their optics, he could see faint traces of who they used to be. He sighed, knowing that no matter the outside appearance, they were his and his alone.
“You will always be mine.” He smiled as the larger frames curled against his, a helm coming to rest on each of his shoulders. Both began purring, snuggling tight to his sides. The warmth of their bodies seeped into his, sinking all the way to his spark. This close he could feel the familiar pulses of their bright sparks reaching for his. He wrapped them more securely in his arms as tension drained from his frame. “Always.”
“Ratchet?”
Ratchet chuckled at the already drowsy sounding voice. “Yes Striker?”
“Will you sing the song to us?”
He couldn’t help but give a shaky laugh. “Of course. Let’s see if I remember it…” Softly he began to sing the simple melody he had made for them so long ago. Two little sighs of contentment, and his younglings drifted into recharge, securely back in their guardian’s arms. After a while Ratchet followed them, a smile on his face.
****
Mirage silently slipped from the room and disengaged his electro-disruptor. He nodded to Wheeljack, who sank down onto a chair in relief as the spy left. The Noble opened a comm. link as he walked down the hall.
‘Mirage to Prime and Jazz.’
‘Go ahead, Mirage.’
‘What ya got, Raj?’
‘Mission is a complete success.’
Prime sighed on his end of the link. ‘Well done, both of you. Without your efforts, I shudder to think of what would have happened.’
‘Ah’m just glad we were able ta find ‘em again. Catching ‘em in that first scouting mission ta the pits was pure luck.’
‘It was,’ Mirage agreed. ‘But now they are reunited. That’s all that matters.’
Both could hear the relief in Optimus’ voice. ‘Again, I thank you both for you part in bringing them back to us.’ He let out a chuckle. ‘Just don’t tell Ratchet we’ve known who they were since they were brought in.’
Jazz laughed and Mirage smiled. Finally, things would be right in their world.
~End
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