TF: Beauty Amongst Death
Rating: PG-13
Series: G1
Pairings: Megatron/Ratchet
Summary: Megatron wants Ratchet, simple as.
Warnings: Unnamed OC death
Disclaimer: As per usual, the good things in life are not mine to have, but belong to someone else... in this case Hasbro, Takara and IDW and anyone else I’ve forgotten…
Authors Notes: For the tf_rare_pairing June Challenge prompt - "I could not love except where Death mingled with Beauty's breath." ~ Edgar Allan Poe.
Feedback makes friends. Flames dealt with by the masters of paranoia and fire, Red Alert and Inferno.
Megatron watched him from across the battlefield; a bright flash of beautiful white amongst the dirt and energon and death. Easily recognisable, and yet Megatron couldn’t lay a hand on him. Which only made the warlord want the medic more. A capture-don’t-kill bounty was placed on his head, and Ratchet found himself subject to attack after attack each battle he was called in to help with.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Ratchet worked feverishly on the mech, struggling to clamp energon lines and stop him from bleeding out. There was little more he could do on the battlefield, and indeed, little more he wanted to do. He’d stopped flinching at the sounds of bombs and laser fire, unless they came too close to comfort. Which they had been recently. So much so that Optimus Prime had made sure that his medic always had a guard with him whenever he was called in to help.
“Frag.” Ratchet cursed to himself, fingers slipping in the energon. He was losing the mech, and he couldn’t stop it. He tried everything, but he could still see the exposed spark flickering before finally guttering out completely. He bowed his head, murmuring a small prayer to Primus.
The shot caught him off guard. And caught his guard off guard. The blue mech fell backwards, chest plates smoking. He didn’t even look to see where the shot had come from, just scrambled across on his hands and knees to the fallen mech.
“Perfect.” He started at the sound of the voice so close to him. So focussed on trying to save his guard, he hadn’t checked his surroundings. Glancing up, he was surprised to see none other than Megatron standing close to him, weapon still smoking.
“You…” Words failed him.
“Me.” The warlord smirked, taking one step closer to Ratchet, optics flashing as the medic stood his ground. “There is nothing more you can do here, medic.” Raising his arm, he fired once more at Ratchet’s guard. Ratchet screamed, throwing himself backwards away from the body, hot energon and debris raining down on his frame nonetheless.
“My beauty, surrounded by such death.” Megatron stood above him, gazing down at him, Ratchet realised as he rolled over, forcing himself to his knees. He let out a cry as Megatron grabbed him around the waist, hauling him to his feet.
“Let me go!”
“Never. You’re mine now.” With that, Megatron took to the skies, grasping Ratchet close to him. There was nothing Ratchet could do but hang on and hope that Megatron wouldn’t drop him. His cries went unheard through the roar of the battlefield. Megatron had his medic at last.