FIC: Internal/External Conflicts (Human Series)
Title: Internal/External Conflicts
Author: Keelywolfe
Fandom: Transformers
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Chapter 45 of the Human Series.
Note: Sorry for the long wait, folks, this chapter took it's time.
~~*~~
The checkpoint guards were as cool and professional as they had always been, although Optimus knew that they were much more heavily armed than was normal. Two humans, no matter how well-fortified, would hardly be able to withstand a frontal assault but that combined with the newly finished shield array would hopefully give them enough time to warn the others as they made their escape.
It made Optimus deeply uncomfortable to risk these human lives. He had, as diplomatically as possible, pointed out to Lennox that the entire city was surrounded by the very best surveillance equipment that Cybertronians could provide using Earth's resources. Both Lennox and Prowl had dismissed his protests. Surveillance equipment could be circumvented in ways that living eyes could not and the guards had had to deal with lost or curious humans at times as well. Abandoning the guard post was not an acceptable option and the guard shifts around the perimeter had been increased accordingly.
They were correct, Optimus knew, and so he had relented. Lennox was responsible for his troops as Optimus was for his, and he understood the necessity of putting lives in danger.
A quick scan was standard procedure before exiting the city. Optimus remained still as the young Lieutenant ran his wand over Optimus. It was Ratchet's design, sized for much smaller hands and with the knowledge that their humans required their equipment to speak in plain English. Or in this case, it flashed cheery green lights, indicating that Optimus was clean and free to leave. Not that anyone expected Optimus of all mechs to be carrying anything elicit but he was firm in that no one was above the rules and policies instated, including himself.
"Good to go, Sir," the Lieutenant waved him through.
"Thank you, Lieutenant Grant," Optimus said, loud enough to be heard over the rumble of a dozen different engines. "I look forward to seeing you on our return."
Grant gave him a startled smile, quickly stifled under military professionalism. Optimus made a point of knowing the names of anyone under his service, even those in the peripheral. Every being here, mech or human, was risking their life. He owed them to at least know their names.
The guards were efficient, quickly shuttling through all the transformed mechs and military vehicles in moments, and soon they were traveling along the rough road that led to the highway. Their long caravan was interspersed with a variety of military vehicles and he wondered with some bemusement what any vehicles they might pass would make of the configuration.
The Cybertronians didn't need to be close for semi-private conversation and Optimus received a request for an open channel almost the moment they passed through the outer gates. He allowed it, unsurprised that the first voice was Ironhide's gruff one.
::May as well kiss the city goodbye while you can:: Ironhide grumbled. ::Primus knows what'll be left with those three in charge.::
::I highly doubt that Bumblebee and Sideswipe will bring down the city and Sunstreaker can only do so much damage on his own:: Prowl replied serenely.
::Still can't believe you left those two.::
::A necessary evil:: Optimus added, almost amused. ::We cannot all remain in the city. The remaining Decepticons on Earth must be dealt with. That this first confrontation is close to our home base is both convenient and suspect.::
::Yeah, yeah,:: Ironhide said, ::A trap, maybe. Probably. We've heard it. The humans heard it.::
::Yet, it is not feasible for us to ignore:: Prowl added calmly. ::We are at a disadvantage already simply because our enemy certainly know our location. They are also aware that Samuel Witwicky is with us and that he will likely remain in the city.::
::Just call the kid Sam, would you? Humans don't stand on much ceremony:: Ratchet interjected.
::It's his proper designation--::
::You scream out Mikaela Banes, Mikaela Banes, at night when you play your little simi games?::
::As I was saying,:: Prowl continued, unruffled, ::We cannot remain in the city forever and we need to end this stalemate. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are quite capable of defending against any of the known Decepticons on Earth, and many of the unknown, particularly with Bumblebee assisting.::
::Primus, you do, don't you!:: Ratchet demanded gleefully, :: You really use her full name! I'm not sure whether to be amused or disturbed.::
::Could we please stay on the subject at hand?::
::Subject on hand is boring. We've heard it all.::
::Ratchet.:: From Optimus, and Ratchet subsided immediately. He might not be the most compliant mech in the ranks but he could always trust Ratchet to follow necessary orders. The urge to add a private message was strong but Optimus resisted it. There were any number of ways Ratchet might react to that and at least half of them were negative. It was one of the most intriguing and frustrating aspects of Ratchet, the inability to anticipate his reactions.
Certainly he hadn't expected Ratchet to attempt to interface him into stasis last night, a few parts of him still ached--
::Yeah, let's talk about Prowl's sex life later,:: Ironhide added, lazily, breaking through Optimus's thoughts even as he firmly set the memories behind a firewall. Teasing aside, now was not the time for distractions. Ironhide seemed amused at the direction of the conversation, though the grimness in his thoughts was clear as he added. ::Let's talk about how we're just about using that kid as bait.::
::That 'kid', as you say, will be lure for the Decepticons no matter what we do.:: Prowl said, a little stiffly. ::If you have a better strategy for allowing for us to protect him as well as defend this planet against our enemy, I am always open to reasonable discourse.::
::You know I don't:: Ironhide growled. ::But I'm kinda fond of the kid.::
::I don't believe our fondness for him has been questioned.:: Prowl said, the growing crack in his serenity audible. ::I for one would like to maintain a safe haven for all our human friends.::
::Bumblebee will watch out for them, Prowl:: Ratchet this time, with marked gentleness. ::And Sideswipe.::
::And Sunstreaker probably won't squish 'em before we get back,:: Ironhide added with mock brightness.
::I can always rely on you to raise my spirits,:: Prowl said dryly.
::Enough,:: Optimus said firmly, closing the connection. They had…what was the phrase? Ah, 'blown off enough steam' and now was time to focus. The mission coordinates were fast approaching and there was too much unknown for them to be at any less than their most alert.
Bumblebee had discovered the thermic trace of a Cybertronian a short time ago but it had taken him a little time to triangulate the position. There had been some kind of interference and he had been unable to determine if it was deliberate or as simple as an environmental issue. The planet itself seemed to, at times, be determined to hinder their location efforts.
The coordinates from the transmission that Sam had detected had narrowed the search considerably but had complicated their mission accordingly. Whether the mech sending the transmission was an Autobot or a Decepticon, whether it was even a cry for help or simply the last, lingering broadcast from someone spiraling into permanent deactivation was unknown.
That the signal was very close to their home territory was suspect. It was possible that the mech was following their beacon and had been too weak after landing to complete the journey to the city. It was also possible that the Decepticons were luring them out into some sort of trap. There were any other number of possibilities, both likely ones and those bordering on the absurd. Too many unknown variables, Prowl had complained, but in the end, he'd agreed that a front-on assault was the best course of action.
A stalemate, Prowl had called this, an apt human phrase. If they remained in the City, the remaining Decepticons were free to roam Earth as they pleased and if they left, they City itself and their companions were vulnerable.
It was a chance that Optimus had decided they needed to take.
The vehicle in front of Optimus, human-driven, was leading them in, down an overgrown dirt road towards a series of dilapidated buildings that were on the outskirts of a much larger human settlement. Through the darkness, the city lights were brilliant and not nearly as distant as Optimus would have preferred. Large mechs had large, destructive battles and much as the human government would prefer their presence to be a secret for the time being, Optimus was far more concerned with their unknown mech destroying half the city simply trying to flee from them.
The building itself had very little light, not that any of the Autobots required it, but the humans were quickly and efficiently setting up portable lamps. Stealth would be impossible in this situation, none of Optimus's troops were wasting any energy on shielding and if the mech were conscious, he would have recognized their thermal signatures instantly.
The vehicle in front of Optimus slowed to a stop, and Lennox climbed out deliberately, his weapon at the ready.
Patiently, Optimus waited as Lennox conferred over his headset before saying loudly, "Okay, this area's been cleared. You guys are safe to come out."
He heard the others transform quickly, noted the almost absent way Lennox ran a hand over Ironhide's hood just before his Weapons Specialist stood, and wondered if the human even realized he'd done it. That was an unexpected development but not an unwelcome one. Ironhide was an old, old friend, and it soothed Optimus to see him with some measure of happiness.
Many of the windows were missing panels of glass and those that remained were coated in filth. The buildings themselves were large, just taller than Optimus himself, an abandoned power plant of some sort, Lennox had informed him. Full of old equipment and sized well for a mech to hide in, no matter what form he chose.
Over his com link, Optimus could hear the background chatter of the humans, ready to send in an air strike at a moment's notice if necessary. Some discretion was required for the moment; a chemical leak, as had been reported to the humans in the area, could only explain so much. Truth be told, according to Prowl's calculations, they had certainly over-prepped for this mission but it was their first one with the humans and they didn’t want to take any chances, particularly with their allies.
With care, Optimus took the lead, striding into the weathered remains that surrounded the building. It had been fascinating to see places like this on this world. Abandoned places left to the elements, their once proud forms beaten back to the Earth.
Perhaps it was morbid but it reminded him, somewhat painfully, of Cybertron. Earth was a living planet, there was no question of that, but Cybertron was alive in more of a visceral sense. Made of the same components as its inhabitants, Cybertron did more than simply exist around them, it was one of them. Their home, something like a parent, in the human sense of the word.
Towards the end, sights like this one were common. War-torn buildings collapsing beneath their own shattered weight. Towers that once gleamed, exuding a life force of their own, had become little more than vicious scars on their former home, and a planet that had once been teaming with the sights and sounds of millions of his people had been left with nothing but echoing silence and scattered remains.
Cybertron had been dying even before the loss of the Allspark, Megatron's insanity leading him to commit the most unthinkable of murders. There was nothing left there for them to return to and Optimus had found himself a leader with few to lead, little more than a figure head who could offer his kind only the barest of comforts, who was forced to beg the inhabitants of his world for reluctant sanctuary.
Standing here, surrounded by the surreality, Optimus couldn't stop the aching loss from rising up from his spark. On this planet, even without human intervention, the weather patterns would eventually wear away these remnants but Cybertron would remain mostly unchanged, a shrine to the death of their civilization by his brother's hand.
The crackle of a faltering incoming transmission was a welcome distraction, all them stilling as Ratchet raised a hand, focusing on it. Out of all of them, Ratchet had the most sensitive sensor arrays. They were intended for use in his capacity as a medic but over the years all of them had become adept at taking on secondary roles. The message was on a cycle, weakly repeating its loop over and over. Even in the short time it had taken them to organize either a battle or an impromptu rescue, it had grown weaker.
Whoever they were, friend or enemy, unknown, they were slowly dying.
::There:: Ratchet indicated, sending each of them a spat of localized coordinates.
::Didn't much need 'em:: Ironhide sent in a low drawl, ::I can smell whoever they are.::
::Then we'll put you on a leash so you can take the lead:: Ratchet shot back, ::There's a good boy.::
The message came again, and again, Optimus shuffled it aside, unreceived. They'd all been thoroughly warned against allowing the link. Much as they were all well protected against intrusive viruses, according to Ratchet the transmission only ever contained screaming, scattered words of pleading.
The humans were fanning out behind them, in formation, waiting for any indication of whether they were facing a friend or enemy. Lennox was in the lead and no one protested Ironhide's position next to them. Not in front, much as he was sure Ironhide would prefer it, but if a frontal shot sent him backwards, he would crush the humans himself before a Decepticon could even try.
Ratchet's coordinates indicated that the signal was coming from the largest building, its startlingly enormous bay doors torn open. Fresh scrapes on paint and brick were far too recent to be caused by decay.
"Lennox, we will enter here," Optimus said quietly. "You and your men shall remain outside. Keep a watch for any indication of outside interference."
"Be a tight fit for you, Boss," Lennox replied, cautiously.
"Which indicates that whoever the signal belongs to is likely smaller than I am. Ratchet will stay with you."
To his troops, Optimus added, ::Prowl, Arcee Pink, stay with Ratchet and the humans::
::Guards? I'm honored.::
He ignored Ratchet's barbed remark and Prowl merely nodded in wordless assent, Arcee's pink unit joining them. Not that Ratchet's comment was far from the truth. Their ranks of medics were far too precarious to risk any of them unnecessarily and though Prowl was nearly as valuable to them, of the two, they needed Ratchet more. Arcee's other two units and Jolt would be needed in the confined space of the building and Ironhide would never allow Optimus to go in without him.
Prowl, at least, certainly understood the tactics behind his choice. He hoped he would be able to deal with Ratchet's irritation later.
The large doorway still required Optimus to get on his hands and knees to crawl in. The Arcees and Jolt were on point, all their sensors straining to detect even the slightest movement as they waited tensely for Ironhide to follow Optimus, the larger mechs both vulnerable at the point of entrance.
There was no indication of any activity, no ambush. Inside, the building was mostly bare, with only a litter of trash and abandoned equipment coating the floor, faded graffiti scrawled over the walls. It was large enough that Optimus could stand upright, only ducking under the occasional catwalk. But the smell was thicker here and none of them needed a medic's sensitive instruments to detect the familiar composition of energon.
With a gesture, Optimus indicated that the Arcees should remain at the door, Ironhide and Jolt venturing deeper into the building with him. There were scrapes along the flooring, sections of tile that had been pulled loose from the passing of something much larger than a human, and further in, faint spatters of pink. Energon, the lighter pink an indication that it had once been inside a mech and it wasn't quite dry, still tacky yet to Optimus's touch.
It took energon some time to leave its liquid state and by Optimus's calculations, it had been here well over seventy-two Earth hours. Days before the transmission Sam had received.
Optimus winced at the force of the transmission as it suddenly slammed against his firewalls. He would have ignored it entirely but receiving indicated that the mech was still sending.
::Whoever they are, they aren't trying to hide:: Ironhide sent on a low frequency, scowling as he shook his head with his own wince.
::I should think not,:: Optimus replied, gesturing at the gashed flooring, another splash of energon on a wall. It was the shape of a handprint, Optimus realized, imaging the mech dragging themselves into the dubious safety of this shelter, pausing to lean against the wall. From the size of the print, he calculated the mech was no larger than Ratchet, perhaps even Bumblebee's size. The amount of energon was growing worrisome. A normal, healthy mech's systems would have already been working on sealed off any leaks, yet they were seeing more energon, not less. The wounded mech had to have been here for several days, perhaps even as long as a week. He was likely very close to leaking dry.
They moved further in, the only sound that of the heavy tread of their steps combined with the hum of their scans. There. His thermal scans detected a Cybertronian figure even as he glimpsed a filth-encrusted foot, protruding from a semi-hidden corner.
Oh. Optimus stared down, his spark lurching in recognition of a familiar form. Filthy and damaged, exposed wires throwing the occasional spark, his optics little more than a dim glow but recognizable for all that.
Ironhide, over his shoulder, "Is he-"
"No. Jolt, get Ratchet. Do not let down your guard."
Jolt darted out, and very quickly they heard the return of a heavier tread, Ratchet making his way through the wreckage with haste, cursing as he kicked aside the human refuse. He was on his knees by the mech in an instant, his hands a flurry of movement. Sealing lines that still dripped pinkish energon, and running scans.
Always, Ratchet murmured while he worked, a litany of medical terms that were useless to Optimus, but the large needle he revealed just before he sank it into his own energon lines gave answers of its own. The other end, Ratchet inserted into the injured mech's main line and the pink flowing through the clear tubing gave off a light of its own, casting them in an eerie glow.
Next to him, Optimus felt Ironhide shift uncomfortably and he had to suppress a blurt of humor that was certainly inappropriate. The large mech had always hated needles, any medical procedure far worse to endure than the injuries that required it.
Not that Ratchet would ever resist a chance to hassle Ironhide. ::What's the matter, 'Hide, don't feel like donating today?:: Then, without waiting for a reply, ::He's not in stasis, Optimus. Close thing, he's past running on fumes. ::
Optimus was hovering over his shoulder, but silent. He knew better than to interrupt or to touch. At this moment, Ratchet might well take his hand off and then force him to carry it back to base himself.
"Most of this damage is superficial, Optimus," Ratchet said aloud, abandoning the com. "I can't find anything that should be causing the kind of pain he's in."
His hands moved with nimble expertise, testing audials before Ratchet said, loudly, "Blaster? Can you hear me?"
~~*~~
If there was one thing that Ratchet despised, it was field repairs. Not that he wasn't good at it; do anything enough times and you get pretty good, even if you hate it, and Ratchet had done this often enough to call himself a pit damned expert. Talent aside, he still hated it. Surgery was meant for clean rooms and the proper tools, not whatever jerry-rigged equipment he was able to haul around with him.
"Blaster? Come on, talk to me," Ratchet said, prodding around the filth at Blaster's throat, searching for any injury. Blaster's optics were already brighter from the energon transfusion. He'd need more than Ratchet had to spare but at least he wouldn't be offlining anytime soon.
There was no response, not so much as a faint hint of static and Ratchet made a rude sound, his touch and scans sliding down to the vocalizer. "No damage," he murmured aloud, "He's still sending the transmission."
"Any of his symbiotes make it with him?" Ironhide asked in a low rumble. Absently, Ratchet was aware of the larger mech running scans of his own, moving protectively around them.
"If you think I am opening up any part of him outside of a sterile field, you're glitched and I'll work on you next," Ratchet snapped, roughly tugging a hardline cable free from his own wrist. Next to him, he felt more than heard Optimus's faint sound of protest, quickly cut off. Good. The last thing he needed was an overprotective lover when he was trying to do his---
Instantly, Ratchet's processors sent a numbing rush over that line of thinking and Ratchet focused again on Blaster. Most of the damage seemed to be an endless supply of filth and with a quick swipe of a cleaning cloth, Ratchet managed to find a working data port and plugged it.
PAIN! Pain, pain, pain, helpme helppainpainpain
With a hiss of shock, Ratchet forcefully pushed back the frantic connection to a tolerable level, felt a large hand settle on his back for the briefest of moments before Optimus withdrew again. Almost, Ratchet called him back, almost soothed his own rattled nerves in that touch and again, that numbing coolness washed over him and left him with nothing but professionalism.
"I can't sedate him until I know what's wrong. He's aware we're here." His begging had taken on a frantic edge, wordless but emotionally devastating. Ratchet sent back as much soothing as he could through their limited connection, searching with as much haste as he could through files, system logs, anything indication of what was wrong.
There. A flare of redline agony threading through a foreign device. Ratchet withdrew from the hardline and unplugged it, turning Blaster on his side.
"Ah. Here we are." Sparks flew as he forcefully detached it and Blaster visibly sagged in relief, taut lines and hydraulics easing with the cessation of the pain. Ratchet examined the device critically. Tiny, barely the size of a human's hand. "Nasty little thing. It was connected to his neural lines and feeding him pain."
"Torture," Optimus said flatly.
"Punishment, maybe," Ironhide grunted, "If they didn't break him, might've want to let him suffer. But why cut him loose and not just kill him outright?"
"Who knows?" Ratchet dismissed it. The whys of it all were someone else's problem to figure out. " 'Cons are getting desperate. Could be they were just bored. His language centers are disconnected. Hold on, let me see-"
"Ironhide, Prowl has indicated the humans would like an update," Optimus said. Not quite an order and Ironhide scowled. Ratchet couldn't resist giving him a smirk, waggling the fingers of one hand in a backhanded wave.
The human gesture that Ironhide responded with was one greatly favored by the soldiers and earned him a smack on the head from Optimus.
"I'm on it," Ironhide grumbled, tromping heavily towards the entrance.
He was out of sight in seconds and to Ratchet's shock, the moment he was, a large hand settle on his shoulder, Optimus leaning over him, "How is he?"
Touch was not a stimulant to Autobots. Their sensors could indicate pleasure at a touch but it was very different from humans, registering as 'not pain' rather than as enjoyable. It should not have sent a blaze of warmth through Ratchet's neural net.
"He's…" Ratchet stuttered out, his vocalizer fritzing as he tried to focus. Again, his processors tried to shut down the rising heat, just as Ratchet had set them to do before the mission began but this time the two codes battled briefly in his processors, each attempting to overwrite the other. What the frag was going on?
Brief as the struggle was, it was enough for Ratchet to go completely still, ample time for Optimus to lean in close enough to feel the wash of heated air from the larger mech's vents. "Ratchet?"
Soft concern, even here in the field. Even with a battered comrade lying still beneath Ratchet's unmoving hands that deep, tender concern was turned his way and…
Enough!
Ruthless, Ratchet overrode that tingling warmth and focused back on his patient, shrugging Optimus away. "I'm not making any promises but I think Blaster will be fine. Most of the damage is just dirt and with his little personal torture device gone, he's not in any pain. I'll have to check for any neural damage yet, I couldn't get a good sense while we were hardlined."
Whatever Optimus had planned to say was cut off as Blaster's optics suddenly blazed to full life, his vocalizer creaking static and then, words blurred through it, Cybertronian, as he hissed out, "T-t-t-tra..p..p..T..rap…trap…trap."
"What…" Was all Ratchet managed before the explosion rocked them all, glass showering down on them as the concussive blast shattered the remaining windows. Time seemingly slowed in his processors, each second registering in long sweeps. The ground beneath them shaking from the force of the explosions, the warm splatter of energon over him as the line between him and Blaster was pulled painfully free when Ratchet was roughly wrenched away.
Yanked completely off his feet, a strong arm around him even though Ratchet easily outweighed Optimus in sheer mass, but when had Optimus ever let something as petty as physics get in his way?
He couldn't see a pit damned thing, dust and debris obscuring his optics and his equilibrium was completely lost, gyroscope reeling as he was bodily hauled out of the building, only barely able to see that Optimus had snatched up Blaster as well, the building collapsing around them like a familiar memory of battles on Cybertron. With brilliant clarity Ratchet was able to think that he was going to beat Optimus with his own arm for this stunt, could hear the gears stripping under the load he was carrying and then clear air surrounded him, the ground shockingly hard as it registered that he'd been physically thrown.
Thrown clear, Ratchet realized, staggering unsteadily to his feet and what had once been a shabby building was now little more than a collection of crumbling brick, the licks of fire curling up less than he had expected from the explosions. Through the thick dust and smoke, Ratchet could see Blaster, collapsed where he'd been thrown and two of Arcee's units were near him, straining to pull his heavier form away from the wreckage even as the human channels blared for fire support, for medical support, for…
There. From beneath the tons of cement blocks and metal sheeting, he could see a hand, large and familiar and still, the rest of Optimus still buried beneath the burning wreckage.
The sudden, brilliant pop!click in his processor was like a supernova, the numbness he'd set into place punched through with a vivid wash of agony, of a desperate internal scream and Ratchet barely felt it as the ground rushed up to meet him again.
~~*~~
When his optics onlined, the first thing Ratchet registered was a the face above him, so liberally coated with dust and soot that his paint wasn't even visible but Ratchet didn't need to see it to recognize him. Blearily, he reached up to touch, tracing one finger down a prominent dent in Optimus's cheek. In another instant, memory came back online and Ratchet blinked his optics, snatching his hand away as he sat up, scrambling back and away. With a scowl, he saw Ironhide crouched at his other side, and his expression was less than pleased, his frown like something from a human nightmare.
"You-" Ratchet started, weakly, optics flicking almost frantically to the collapsed building nearby but it was obvious that they had dug Optimus out while he'd still been lying in the dirt. Prime was a little worse for wear, nothing to get in a twist over and Ratchet's faint question was overrode by Ironhide's loud growl.
"What the burning fires of the Pit was that about!?" Ironhide snarled out in Cybertronian, well aware of their human audience. "You don't have a scratch on you and you dropped like a weight!"
"It's nothing-"
"Don't you dare try that slag," Ironhide's voice was quiet, little more than a deadly whisper.
Ratchet sighed and looked away. No escaping this time and he was too exhausted for indignation. Quietly, he admitted, "Before we left the city, I wrote a process to route my higher emotional processors to go through my logic circuits instead."
The stunned silence was better than he had expected. A shame it didn't last. "Are you glitched or just fragging stupid?" Ironhide said harshly, though low enough not to be overheard. "That's dangerous in the best of times and you decided to give it a try just before a battle?"
"I know what I'm doing," Ratchet said impatiently.
"As demonstrated by your collapsing at our feet! You could've burned out your emotion circuits permanently, why in the Pit would you-" He trailed off, cast a glance at Optimus then back. Ironhide managed to glare at both of them with skill that Ratchet could appreciate. "Get this settled before someone gets killed," Ironhide said shortly. "I've lost enough friends without you two fucking each other over."
He stood in a flurry of shifting gears and hydraulics, storming away. Around them, the humans were still moving, putting out fires, the other Autobots assisting without so much as glancing at the two of them as they sat together. Ratchet kept his optics focused firmly on the ground. He didn't need to look up to know Optimus was gazing at him.
Hesitantly, one large, dusty hand rose, Optimus moving to touch him, the way Optimus did but Ratchet said sharply, "Don't." Vented in a cool rush of air because with the block removed, that strange need was burning through him again, as painful as the fire of planetary reentry. Without hesitation, he rewrote a new temporary block, just to get back to the base before he humiliated himself.
Something was definitely wrong but here was not the best place to determine what. With an effort, Ratchet managed to look up, met Optimus's optics with his own and almost winced at the emotions visible in them. This was such a slagging mess.
"Just…not right now," Ratchet grated out, watched miserably as Optimus relaxed, his optics brightening. Later, he told himself firmly, dragging up to his feet as he went to check on his newest patient.
He'd only just staggered up, Optimus visibly resisting the urge to help him, when Prowl appeared from the smoggy gloom, his normally impeccable armor encrusted with his own layer of gunk. "Optimus, we've lost contact with the City. I believe we should go back now. We'll leave the humans here and determine what happened later."
"Two traps in one day," Optimus said heavily, already stepping towards the road to transform.
"I'll come as soon as Blaster is stable," Ratchet said brusquely, already snapping to his duties. Ironhide followed his Prime along with Jolt, and the Arcee triplets twitched, nodding curtly to orders sent as they stood close to Ratchet, optics blazing as their scans went into high levels.
::This would be why I recommended leaving the twins,:: Prowl sent over the open line and no one offered a protest, their tires squealing as they headed back towards their home.
tbc
Read Next Chapter
Author: Keelywolfe
Fandom: Transformers
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Chapter 45 of the Human Series.
Note: Sorry for the long wait, folks, this chapter took it's time.
~~*~~
The checkpoint guards were as cool and professional as they had always been, although Optimus knew that they were much more heavily armed than was normal. Two humans, no matter how well-fortified, would hardly be able to withstand a frontal assault but that combined with the newly finished shield array would hopefully give them enough time to warn the others as they made their escape.
It made Optimus deeply uncomfortable to risk these human lives. He had, as diplomatically as possible, pointed out to Lennox that the entire city was surrounded by the very best surveillance equipment that Cybertronians could provide using Earth's resources. Both Lennox and Prowl had dismissed his protests. Surveillance equipment could be circumvented in ways that living eyes could not and the guards had had to deal with lost or curious humans at times as well. Abandoning the guard post was not an acceptable option and the guard shifts around the perimeter had been increased accordingly.
They were correct, Optimus knew, and so he had relented. Lennox was responsible for his troops as Optimus was for his, and he understood the necessity of putting lives in danger.
A quick scan was standard procedure before exiting the city. Optimus remained still as the young Lieutenant ran his wand over Optimus. It was Ratchet's design, sized for much smaller hands and with the knowledge that their humans required their equipment to speak in plain English. Or in this case, it flashed cheery green lights, indicating that Optimus was clean and free to leave. Not that anyone expected Optimus of all mechs to be carrying anything elicit but he was firm in that no one was above the rules and policies instated, including himself.
"Good to go, Sir," the Lieutenant waved him through.
"Thank you, Lieutenant Grant," Optimus said, loud enough to be heard over the rumble of a dozen different engines. "I look forward to seeing you on our return."
Grant gave him a startled smile, quickly stifled under military professionalism. Optimus made a point of knowing the names of anyone under his service, even those in the peripheral. Every being here, mech or human, was risking their life. He owed them to at least know their names.
The guards were efficient, quickly shuttling through all the transformed mechs and military vehicles in moments, and soon they were traveling along the rough road that led to the highway. Their long caravan was interspersed with a variety of military vehicles and he wondered with some bemusement what any vehicles they might pass would make of the configuration.
The Cybertronians didn't need to be close for semi-private conversation and Optimus received a request for an open channel almost the moment they passed through the outer gates. He allowed it, unsurprised that the first voice was Ironhide's gruff one.
::May as well kiss the city goodbye while you can:: Ironhide grumbled. ::Primus knows what'll be left with those three in charge.::
::I highly doubt that Bumblebee and Sideswipe will bring down the city and Sunstreaker can only do so much damage on his own:: Prowl replied serenely.
::Still can't believe you left those two.::
::A necessary evil:: Optimus added, almost amused. ::We cannot all remain in the city. The remaining Decepticons on Earth must be dealt with. That this first confrontation is close to our home base is both convenient and suspect.::
::Yeah, yeah,:: Ironhide said, ::A trap, maybe. Probably. We've heard it. The humans heard it.::
::Yet, it is not feasible for us to ignore:: Prowl added calmly. ::We are at a disadvantage already simply because our enemy certainly know our location. They are also aware that Samuel Witwicky is with us and that he will likely remain in the city.::
::Just call the kid Sam, would you? Humans don't stand on much ceremony:: Ratchet interjected.
::It's his proper designation--::
::You scream out Mikaela Banes, Mikaela Banes, at night when you play your little simi games?::
::As I was saying,:: Prowl continued, unruffled, ::We cannot remain in the city forever and we need to end this stalemate. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are quite capable of defending against any of the known Decepticons on Earth, and many of the unknown, particularly with Bumblebee assisting.::
::Primus, you do, don't you!:: Ratchet demanded gleefully, :: You really use her full name! I'm not sure whether to be amused or disturbed.::
::Could we please stay on the subject at hand?::
::Subject on hand is boring. We've heard it all.::
::Ratchet.:: From Optimus, and Ratchet subsided immediately. He might not be the most compliant mech in the ranks but he could always trust Ratchet to follow necessary orders. The urge to add a private message was strong but Optimus resisted it. There were any number of ways Ratchet might react to that and at least half of them were negative. It was one of the most intriguing and frustrating aspects of Ratchet, the inability to anticipate his reactions.
Certainly he hadn't expected Ratchet to attempt to interface him into stasis last night, a few parts of him still ached--
::Yeah, let's talk about Prowl's sex life later,:: Ironhide added, lazily, breaking through Optimus's thoughts even as he firmly set the memories behind a firewall. Teasing aside, now was not the time for distractions. Ironhide seemed amused at the direction of the conversation, though the grimness in his thoughts was clear as he added. ::Let's talk about how we're just about using that kid as bait.::
::That 'kid', as you say, will be lure for the Decepticons no matter what we do.:: Prowl said, a little stiffly. ::If you have a better strategy for allowing for us to protect him as well as defend this planet against our enemy, I am always open to reasonable discourse.::
::You know I don't:: Ironhide growled. ::But I'm kinda fond of the kid.::
::I don't believe our fondness for him has been questioned.:: Prowl said, the growing crack in his serenity audible. ::I for one would like to maintain a safe haven for all our human friends.::
::Bumblebee will watch out for them, Prowl:: Ratchet this time, with marked gentleness. ::And Sideswipe.::
::And Sunstreaker probably won't squish 'em before we get back,:: Ironhide added with mock brightness.
::I can always rely on you to raise my spirits,:: Prowl said dryly.
::Enough,:: Optimus said firmly, closing the connection. They had…what was the phrase? Ah, 'blown off enough steam' and now was time to focus. The mission coordinates were fast approaching and there was too much unknown for them to be at any less than their most alert.
Bumblebee had discovered the thermic trace of a Cybertronian a short time ago but it had taken him a little time to triangulate the position. There had been some kind of interference and he had been unable to determine if it was deliberate or as simple as an environmental issue. The planet itself seemed to, at times, be determined to hinder their location efforts.
The coordinates from the transmission that Sam had detected had narrowed the search considerably but had complicated their mission accordingly. Whether the mech sending the transmission was an Autobot or a Decepticon, whether it was even a cry for help or simply the last, lingering broadcast from someone spiraling into permanent deactivation was unknown.
That the signal was very close to their home territory was suspect. It was possible that the mech was following their beacon and had been too weak after landing to complete the journey to the city. It was also possible that the Decepticons were luring them out into some sort of trap. There were any other number of possibilities, both likely ones and those bordering on the absurd. Too many unknown variables, Prowl had complained, but in the end, he'd agreed that a front-on assault was the best course of action.
A stalemate, Prowl had called this, an apt human phrase. If they remained in the City, the remaining Decepticons were free to roam Earth as they pleased and if they left, they City itself and their companions were vulnerable.
It was a chance that Optimus had decided they needed to take.
The vehicle in front of Optimus, human-driven, was leading them in, down an overgrown dirt road towards a series of dilapidated buildings that were on the outskirts of a much larger human settlement. Through the darkness, the city lights were brilliant and not nearly as distant as Optimus would have preferred. Large mechs had large, destructive battles and much as the human government would prefer their presence to be a secret for the time being, Optimus was far more concerned with their unknown mech destroying half the city simply trying to flee from them.
The building itself had very little light, not that any of the Autobots required it, but the humans were quickly and efficiently setting up portable lamps. Stealth would be impossible in this situation, none of Optimus's troops were wasting any energy on shielding and if the mech were conscious, he would have recognized their thermal signatures instantly.
The vehicle in front of Optimus slowed to a stop, and Lennox climbed out deliberately, his weapon at the ready.
Patiently, Optimus waited as Lennox conferred over his headset before saying loudly, "Okay, this area's been cleared. You guys are safe to come out."
He heard the others transform quickly, noted the almost absent way Lennox ran a hand over Ironhide's hood just before his Weapons Specialist stood, and wondered if the human even realized he'd done it. That was an unexpected development but not an unwelcome one. Ironhide was an old, old friend, and it soothed Optimus to see him with some measure of happiness.
Many of the windows were missing panels of glass and those that remained were coated in filth. The buildings themselves were large, just taller than Optimus himself, an abandoned power plant of some sort, Lennox had informed him. Full of old equipment and sized well for a mech to hide in, no matter what form he chose.
Over his com link, Optimus could hear the background chatter of the humans, ready to send in an air strike at a moment's notice if necessary. Some discretion was required for the moment; a chemical leak, as had been reported to the humans in the area, could only explain so much. Truth be told, according to Prowl's calculations, they had certainly over-prepped for this mission but it was their first one with the humans and they didn’t want to take any chances, particularly with their allies.
With care, Optimus took the lead, striding into the weathered remains that surrounded the building. It had been fascinating to see places like this on this world. Abandoned places left to the elements, their once proud forms beaten back to the Earth.
Perhaps it was morbid but it reminded him, somewhat painfully, of Cybertron. Earth was a living planet, there was no question of that, but Cybertron was alive in more of a visceral sense. Made of the same components as its inhabitants, Cybertron did more than simply exist around them, it was one of them. Their home, something like a parent, in the human sense of the word.
Towards the end, sights like this one were common. War-torn buildings collapsing beneath their own shattered weight. Towers that once gleamed, exuding a life force of their own, had become little more than vicious scars on their former home, and a planet that had once been teaming with the sights and sounds of millions of his people had been left with nothing but echoing silence and scattered remains.
Cybertron had been dying even before the loss of the Allspark, Megatron's insanity leading him to commit the most unthinkable of murders. There was nothing left there for them to return to and Optimus had found himself a leader with few to lead, little more than a figure head who could offer his kind only the barest of comforts, who was forced to beg the inhabitants of his world for reluctant sanctuary.
Standing here, surrounded by the surreality, Optimus couldn't stop the aching loss from rising up from his spark. On this planet, even without human intervention, the weather patterns would eventually wear away these remnants but Cybertron would remain mostly unchanged, a shrine to the death of their civilization by his brother's hand.
The crackle of a faltering incoming transmission was a welcome distraction, all them stilling as Ratchet raised a hand, focusing on it. Out of all of them, Ratchet had the most sensitive sensor arrays. They were intended for use in his capacity as a medic but over the years all of them had become adept at taking on secondary roles. The message was on a cycle, weakly repeating its loop over and over. Even in the short time it had taken them to organize either a battle or an impromptu rescue, it had grown weaker.
Whoever they were, friend or enemy, unknown, they were slowly dying.
::There:: Ratchet indicated, sending each of them a spat of localized coordinates.
::Didn't much need 'em:: Ironhide sent in a low drawl, ::I can smell whoever they are.::
::Then we'll put you on a leash so you can take the lead:: Ratchet shot back, ::There's a good boy.::
The message came again, and again, Optimus shuffled it aside, unreceived. They'd all been thoroughly warned against allowing the link. Much as they were all well protected against intrusive viruses, according to Ratchet the transmission only ever contained screaming, scattered words of pleading.
The humans were fanning out behind them, in formation, waiting for any indication of whether they were facing a friend or enemy. Lennox was in the lead and no one protested Ironhide's position next to them. Not in front, much as he was sure Ironhide would prefer it, but if a frontal shot sent him backwards, he would crush the humans himself before a Decepticon could even try.
Ratchet's coordinates indicated that the signal was coming from the largest building, its startlingly enormous bay doors torn open. Fresh scrapes on paint and brick were far too recent to be caused by decay.
"Lennox, we will enter here," Optimus said quietly. "You and your men shall remain outside. Keep a watch for any indication of outside interference."
"Be a tight fit for you, Boss," Lennox replied, cautiously.
"Which indicates that whoever the signal belongs to is likely smaller than I am. Ratchet will stay with you."
To his troops, Optimus added, ::Prowl, Arcee Pink, stay with Ratchet and the humans::
::Guards? I'm honored.::
He ignored Ratchet's barbed remark and Prowl merely nodded in wordless assent, Arcee's pink unit joining them. Not that Ratchet's comment was far from the truth. Their ranks of medics were far too precarious to risk any of them unnecessarily and though Prowl was nearly as valuable to them, of the two, they needed Ratchet more. Arcee's other two units and Jolt would be needed in the confined space of the building and Ironhide would never allow Optimus to go in without him.
Prowl, at least, certainly understood the tactics behind his choice. He hoped he would be able to deal with Ratchet's irritation later.
The large doorway still required Optimus to get on his hands and knees to crawl in. The Arcees and Jolt were on point, all their sensors straining to detect even the slightest movement as they waited tensely for Ironhide to follow Optimus, the larger mechs both vulnerable at the point of entrance.
There was no indication of any activity, no ambush. Inside, the building was mostly bare, with only a litter of trash and abandoned equipment coating the floor, faded graffiti scrawled over the walls. It was large enough that Optimus could stand upright, only ducking under the occasional catwalk. But the smell was thicker here and none of them needed a medic's sensitive instruments to detect the familiar composition of energon.
With a gesture, Optimus indicated that the Arcees should remain at the door, Ironhide and Jolt venturing deeper into the building with him. There were scrapes along the flooring, sections of tile that had been pulled loose from the passing of something much larger than a human, and further in, faint spatters of pink. Energon, the lighter pink an indication that it had once been inside a mech and it wasn't quite dry, still tacky yet to Optimus's touch.
It took energon some time to leave its liquid state and by Optimus's calculations, it had been here well over seventy-two Earth hours. Days before the transmission Sam had received.
Optimus winced at the force of the transmission as it suddenly slammed against his firewalls. He would have ignored it entirely but receiving indicated that the mech was still sending.
::Whoever they are, they aren't trying to hide:: Ironhide sent on a low frequency, scowling as he shook his head with his own wince.
::I should think not,:: Optimus replied, gesturing at the gashed flooring, another splash of energon on a wall. It was the shape of a handprint, Optimus realized, imaging the mech dragging themselves into the dubious safety of this shelter, pausing to lean against the wall. From the size of the print, he calculated the mech was no larger than Ratchet, perhaps even Bumblebee's size. The amount of energon was growing worrisome. A normal, healthy mech's systems would have already been working on sealed off any leaks, yet they were seeing more energon, not less. The wounded mech had to have been here for several days, perhaps even as long as a week. He was likely very close to leaking dry.
They moved further in, the only sound that of the heavy tread of their steps combined with the hum of their scans. There. His thermal scans detected a Cybertronian figure even as he glimpsed a filth-encrusted foot, protruding from a semi-hidden corner.
Oh. Optimus stared down, his spark lurching in recognition of a familiar form. Filthy and damaged, exposed wires throwing the occasional spark, his optics little more than a dim glow but recognizable for all that.
Ironhide, over his shoulder, "Is he-"
"No. Jolt, get Ratchet. Do not let down your guard."
Jolt darted out, and very quickly they heard the return of a heavier tread, Ratchet making his way through the wreckage with haste, cursing as he kicked aside the human refuse. He was on his knees by the mech in an instant, his hands a flurry of movement. Sealing lines that still dripped pinkish energon, and running scans.
Always, Ratchet murmured while he worked, a litany of medical terms that were useless to Optimus, but the large needle he revealed just before he sank it into his own energon lines gave answers of its own. The other end, Ratchet inserted into the injured mech's main line and the pink flowing through the clear tubing gave off a light of its own, casting them in an eerie glow.
Next to him, Optimus felt Ironhide shift uncomfortably and he had to suppress a blurt of humor that was certainly inappropriate. The large mech had always hated needles, any medical procedure far worse to endure than the injuries that required it.
Not that Ratchet would ever resist a chance to hassle Ironhide. ::What's the matter, 'Hide, don't feel like donating today?:: Then, without waiting for a reply, ::He's not in stasis, Optimus. Close thing, he's past running on fumes. ::
Optimus was hovering over his shoulder, but silent. He knew better than to interrupt or to touch. At this moment, Ratchet might well take his hand off and then force him to carry it back to base himself.
"Most of this damage is superficial, Optimus," Ratchet said aloud, abandoning the com. "I can't find anything that should be causing the kind of pain he's in."
His hands moved with nimble expertise, testing audials before Ratchet said, loudly, "Blaster? Can you hear me?"
~~*~~
If there was one thing that Ratchet despised, it was field repairs. Not that he wasn't good at it; do anything enough times and you get pretty good, even if you hate it, and Ratchet had done this often enough to call himself a pit damned expert. Talent aside, he still hated it. Surgery was meant for clean rooms and the proper tools, not whatever jerry-rigged equipment he was able to haul around with him.
"Blaster? Come on, talk to me," Ratchet said, prodding around the filth at Blaster's throat, searching for any injury. Blaster's optics were already brighter from the energon transfusion. He'd need more than Ratchet had to spare but at least he wouldn't be offlining anytime soon.
There was no response, not so much as a faint hint of static and Ratchet made a rude sound, his touch and scans sliding down to the vocalizer. "No damage," he murmured aloud, "He's still sending the transmission."
"Any of his symbiotes make it with him?" Ironhide asked in a low rumble. Absently, Ratchet was aware of the larger mech running scans of his own, moving protectively around them.
"If you think I am opening up any part of him outside of a sterile field, you're glitched and I'll work on you next," Ratchet snapped, roughly tugging a hardline cable free from his own wrist. Next to him, he felt more than heard Optimus's faint sound of protest, quickly cut off. Good. The last thing he needed was an overprotective lover when he was trying to do his---
Instantly, Ratchet's processors sent a numbing rush over that line of thinking and Ratchet focused again on Blaster. Most of the damage seemed to be an endless supply of filth and with a quick swipe of a cleaning cloth, Ratchet managed to find a working data port and plugged it.
PAIN! Pain, pain, pain, helpme helppainpainpain
With a hiss of shock, Ratchet forcefully pushed back the frantic connection to a tolerable level, felt a large hand settle on his back for the briefest of moments before Optimus withdrew again. Almost, Ratchet called him back, almost soothed his own rattled nerves in that touch and again, that numbing coolness washed over him and left him with nothing but professionalism.
"I can't sedate him until I know what's wrong. He's aware we're here." His begging had taken on a frantic edge, wordless but emotionally devastating. Ratchet sent back as much soothing as he could through their limited connection, searching with as much haste as he could through files, system logs, anything indication of what was wrong.
There. A flare of redline agony threading through a foreign device. Ratchet withdrew from the hardline and unplugged it, turning Blaster on his side.
"Ah. Here we are." Sparks flew as he forcefully detached it and Blaster visibly sagged in relief, taut lines and hydraulics easing with the cessation of the pain. Ratchet examined the device critically. Tiny, barely the size of a human's hand. "Nasty little thing. It was connected to his neural lines and feeding him pain."
"Torture," Optimus said flatly.
"Punishment, maybe," Ironhide grunted, "If they didn't break him, might've want to let him suffer. But why cut him loose and not just kill him outright?"
"Who knows?" Ratchet dismissed it. The whys of it all were someone else's problem to figure out. " 'Cons are getting desperate. Could be they were just bored. His language centers are disconnected. Hold on, let me see-"
"Ironhide, Prowl has indicated the humans would like an update," Optimus said. Not quite an order and Ironhide scowled. Ratchet couldn't resist giving him a smirk, waggling the fingers of one hand in a backhanded wave.
The human gesture that Ironhide responded with was one greatly favored by the soldiers and earned him a smack on the head from Optimus.
"I'm on it," Ironhide grumbled, tromping heavily towards the entrance.
He was out of sight in seconds and to Ratchet's shock, the moment he was, a large hand settle on his shoulder, Optimus leaning over him, "How is he?"
Touch was not a stimulant to Autobots. Their sensors could indicate pleasure at a touch but it was very different from humans, registering as 'not pain' rather than as enjoyable. It should not have sent a blaze of warmth through Ratchet's neural net.
"He's…" Ratchet stuttered out, his vocalizer fritzing as he tried to focus. Again, his processors tried to shut down the rising heat, just as Ratchet had set them to do before the mission began but this time the two codes battled briefly in his processors, each attempting to overwrite the other. What the frag was going on?
Brief as the struggle was, it was enough for Ratchet to go completely still, ample time for Optimus to lean in close enough to feel the wash of heated air from the larger mech's vents. "Ratchet?"
Soft concern, even here in the field. Even with a battered comrade lying still beneath Ratchet's unmoving hands that deep, tender concern was turned his way and…
Enough!
Ruthless, Ratchet overrode that tingling warmth and focused back on his patient, shrugging Optimus away. "I'm not making any promises but I think Blaster will be fine. Most of the damage is just dirt and with his little personal torture device gone, he's not in any pain. I'll have to check for any neural damage yet, I couldn't get a good sense while we were hardlined."
Whatever Optimus had planned to say was cut off as Blaster's optics suddenly blazed to full life, his vocalizer creaking static and then, words blurred through it, Cybertronian, as he hissed out, "T-t-t-tra..p..p..T..rap…trap…trap."
"What…" Was all Ratchet managed before the explosion rocked them all, glass showering down on them as the concussive blast shattered the remaining windows. Time seemingly slowed in his processors, each second registering in long sweeps. The ground beneath them shaking from the force of the explosions, the warm splatter of energon over him as the line between him and Blaster was pulled painfully free when Ratchet was roughly wrenched away.
Yanked completely off his feet, a strong arm around him even though Ratchet easily outweighed Optimus in sheer mass, but when had Optimus ever let something as petty as physics get in his way?
He couldn't see a pit damned thing, dust and debris obscuring his optics and his equilibrium was completely lost, gyroscope reeling as he was bodily hauled out of the building, only barely able to see that Optimus had snatched up Blaster as well, the building collapsing around them like a familiar memory of battles on Cybertron. With brilliant clarity Ratchet was able to think that he was going to beat Optimus with his own arm for this stunt, could hear the gears stripping under the load he was carrying and then clear air surrounded him, the ground shockingly hard as it registered that he'd been physically thrown.
Thrown clear, Ratchet realized, staggering unsteadily to his feet and what had once been a shabby building was now little more than a collection of crumbling brick, the licks of fire curling up less than he had expected from the explosions. Through the thick dust and smoke, Ratchet could see Blaster, collapsed where he'd been thrown and two of Arcee's units were near him, straining to pull his heavier form away from the wreckage even as the human channels blared for fire support, for medical support, for…
There. From beneath the tons of cement blocks and metal sheeting, he could see a hand, large and familiar and still, the rest of Optimus still buried beneath the burning wreckage.
The sudden, brilliant pop!click in his processor was like a supernova, the numbness he'd set into place punched through with a vivid wash of agony, of a desperate internal scream and Ratchet barely felt it as the ground rushed up to meet him again.
~~*~~
When his optics onlined, the first thing Ratchet registered was a the face above him, so liberally coated with dust and soot that his paint wasn't even visible but Ratchet didn't need to see it to recognize him. Blearily, he reached up to touch, tracing one finger down a prominent dent in Optimus's cheek. In another instant, memory came back online and Ratchet blinked his optics, snatching his hand away as he sat up, scrambling back and away. With a scowl, he saw Ironhide crouched at his other side, and his expression was less than pleased, his frown like something from a human nightmare.
"You-" Ratchet started, weakly, optics flicking almost frantically to the collapsed building nearby but it was obvious that they had dug Optimus out while he'd still been lying in the dirt. Prime was a little worse for wear, nothing to get in a twist over and Ratchet's faint question was overrode by Ironhide's loud growl.
"What the burning fires of the Pit was that about!?" Ironhide snarled out in Cybertronian, well aware of their human audience. "You don't have a scratch on you and you dropped like a weight!"
"It's nothing-"
"Don't you dare try that slag," Ironhide's voice was quiet, little more than a deadly whisper.
Ratchet sighed and looked away. No escaping this time and he was too exhausted for indignation. Quietly, he admitted, "Before we left the city, I wrote a process to route my higher emotional processors to go through my logic circuits instead."
The stunned silence was better than he had expected. A shame it didn't last. "Are you glitched or just fragging stupid?" Ironhide said harshly, though low enough not to be overheard. "That's dangerous in the best of times and you decided to give it a try just before a battle?"
"I know what I'm doing," Ratchet said impatiently.
"As demonstrated by your collapsing at our feet! You could've burned out your emotion circuits permanently, why in the Pit would you-" He trailed off, cast a glance at Optimus then back. Ironhide managed to glare at both of them with skill that Ratchet could appreciate. "Get this settled before someone gets killed," Ironhide said shortly. "I've lost enough friends without you two fucking each other over."
He stood in a flurry of shifting gears and hydraulics, storming away. Around them, the humans were still moving, putting out fires, the other Autobots assisting without so much as glancing at the two of them as they sat together. Ratchet kept his optics focused firmly on the ground. He didn't need to look up to know Optimus was gazing at him.
Hesitantly, one large, dusty hand rose, Optimus moving to touch him, the way Optimus did but Ratchet said sharply, "Don't." Vented in a cool rush of air because with the block removed, that strange need was burning through him again, as painful as the fire of planetary reentry. Without hesitation, he rewrote a new temporary block, just to get back to the base before he humiliated himself.
Something was definitely wrong but here was not the best place to determine what. With an effort, Ratchet managed to look up, met Optimus's optics with his own and almost winced at the emotions visible in them. This was such a slagging mess.
"Just…not right now," Ratchet grated out, watched miserably as Optimus relaxed, his optics brightening. Later, he told himself firmly, dragging up to his feet as he went to check on his newest patient.
He'd only just staggered up, Optimus visibly resisting the urge to help him, when Prowl appeared from the smoggy gloom, his normally impeccable armor encrusted with his own layer of gunk. "Optimus, we've lost contact with the City. I believe we should go back now. We'll leave the humans here and determine what happened later."
"Two traps in one day," Optimus said heavily, already stepping towards the road to transform.
"I'll come as soon as Blaster is stable," Ratchet said brusquely, already snapping to his duties. Ironhide followed his Prime along with Jolt, and the Arcee triplets twitched, nodding curtly to orders sent as they stood close to Ratchet, optics blazing as their scans went into high levels.
::This would be why I recommended leaving the twins,:: Prowl sent over the open line and no one offered a protest, their tires squealing as they headed back towards their home.
tbc
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