Cybertronian Heart

A Transformers sort-of-self-insert Fan-fiction

Written by: Darkia77/Charise-Nitefire

PLEASE READ A/N FOR THIS STORY TO MAKE SENSE!

A/N: OK, this story is slightly A.U. It's running on the premise that the Spike and Carly weren't born until the late 80s and haven't met the Autobots until Wildstrike was older, like 8-ish, that way when she is 16, Spike and co. are the age they are in the show prior to the movie. The Autobots are also on familiar and good terms with the humans already. The events of the show are also out of order; i.e. the Dinobots were constructed almost immediately after the Autobots waking up and Skyfire wasn't found until way later. Please, roll with it. It will all work out, I promise. And if I can't explain it in the story line, I'll write it up in some drabbles. (I'll write a few anyway, so it's not out of my way in doing such a thing.) It also takes place in the 1990s (prologue) to present day (story) because I need to include modern studies, technology, etc. As I said: just roll with it. And now: to the story!

Prologue

The night was frigid and the wind howled fiercely, rain pattering angrily against an orange metal surface. Ratchet stood at the entrance, regarding the savage storm silently with hardened blue optics. The sensors had picked it up about three minutes ago; two small blips of life. Something or someone was near the Ark. It did not register either to be Decepticon, but they were too far away to be certain. One was about the size of the lion cassette, Steeljaw, while the other was much smaller; smaller than the Autobots' human friend, Spike. Whatever the source of the signals, they were out there in the cold, wailing weather, and Ratchet's medic code insisted he investigate. It could be a simple curious animal with its offspring, but it was better to know for sure.

Transforming to his Earth ambulance alternate form, Ratchet tore through the softened soil towards his target. It was moving, but not very fast. Within a half a breem he found what he had been tracking, taking his bi-pedal form as he spotted it. Indeed, it was a Decepticon; Ravage. And he had something hanging from his mouth. It was pale, only a small cloth around its lower body, and had a small amount of fuzz on its head flattened by the water. It was covered in red blood that ran off it with the rain. Ratchet's scanners confirmed his fears; the being in the Casseticon's mouth was a human child. Using a basic blaster, he charred the dirt near Ravage, making him snarl and drop the infant. Another blast had him running off to his master. Why Ravage wanted the human, the medic wasn't sure. Ratchet knelt and regarded the tiny human grimly. The child was female, less than two or three months old. Deep bite marks stood out in the back of her neck, along with harsh gashes, cleaved by Ravage's steel claws no doubt, all down her back. He was almost certain that the baby girl was dead.

Regretful at this waist of life, he scooped up the still form, preparing to find a place to at least give her a proper burial. The medic almost dropped her when he heard a defiant squall emit from her small mouth. He stared at the pale creature in his red servo in astonishment; for a being too weak, fragile, and young to defend herself against the outer world, she was putting up an admirable fight. Refusing to waste any more precious time, Ratchet quickly wrapped her in his polishing rag, as that was all he could give her for warmth. Transforming again, he nestled her in his back, racing towards the Ark, sirens wailing. The nearest hospital was at least 120 miles away. His medbay was her only chance. Gunning his engines even harder, Ratchet kept a firm optic on her life signs, which were rapidly fading. Turning back to his bi-pedal mode, he charged out of the storm's grasp and into the comforting light of the Ark. All the Autobots he passed saw was a white and red streak and heard a quiet wailing. A brief comm. to First Aid had the medbay ready and waiting by the time he reached it. Gathering his tools, he set the light, shivering, bleeding human on the table and set to work not an astrosecond too soon...

Everyone who was off duty stared at the little curious, wiggling form on the berth in the medbay. Ratchet gently poked a digit along her ribs, making her squeal and giggle, biting her meaty fist. The medic's faceplates were practically radiating happiness. Through tedious work, and more than a few prayers to Primus, Ratchet had managed to save the infant he had found. His mood was nothing short of glowing. He had stayed with her throughout the night and well into the morning she had arrived to seal all the internal and external wounds, as well as kept her nice and warm to prevent hypothermia. She had been asleep through all of it, as Ratchet had given her a sedative, which was given to him by human physicians in case Spike or Sparkplug had ever gotten injured and needed immediate medical attention by the Autobot medic.

When she came to about three days later, he had still been there, carefully watching her and making sure she had an IV feed to keep nutrients in her body. She had started giggling when he had rolled her over to inspect the wounds. Intrigued, he had started lightly poking her with a stylus, a glossa-depressor stick, even played what Carly had called 'peek-a-boo', in an attempt to get a similar reaction as it had actually been quite amusing. That had been a mistake, as Red Alert had entered just as he started to play. The resulting fritz had the human child shrieking wildly with mirth, and First Aid had to repair Red Alert's crashed CPU.

Then in poured the spectators.

Sideswipe leaned closer to examine the girl. "So, you just... found her?"

"Yes. She was barely alive. She was lucky the sensors detected her, or she'd be long gone to the Well of All Sparks by now."

Sunstreaker wrinkled his olfactory sensors. "Well, keep her far away from me. Her grubby little paws could ruin my finish!"

The red front-liner grinned playfully at his twin. "Oh, come on, Sunny. Don't be like that. She's cute when she makes those noises. Watch this." Sideswipe proceeded to make several odd faces such as sticking his thumbs against his audios and sticking out his glossa, crossing his optics, and so forth. The baby stopped laughing and stared at the red mech dourly. Her wide, brown eyes held a certain intelligence that belied her age.

The red twin stood back, looking more than a little affronted, while Ratchet roared with laughter, making the baby snigger again. "Looks like she has taste in peers," the medic managed.

Tracks looked at her wiggling form before sniffing dismissively. "I doubt it. She may be endearing, but she's a mess. Look at all that glop dripping out of her mouth!"

The white medic shook his helm, carefully wiping the drool from the little girl's chin and hand with the corner of the thermal blanket she was wrapped in. Prowl inspected the baby with a critical optic, his stoic face never altering. She stared back for a moment before her face began to slowly turn red, her mouth quivering and eyes growing watery. Prowl jerked back in a panic, wondering what he had done to the human. Ratchet hid his grin, waving a digit in front of the baby's eyes to get her attention back on him. Instantly, the tears vanished and the grin was back when she looked at the old medic.

Sunstreaker snorted, a hint of a smile creeping on his mouth. "Well, I'll be. I guess the little monster does have taste."

The baby sneezed, sending a small spray of gunk onto Sunstreaker, much to the vain mech's horror. Sideswipe doubled over laughing. "I'll say she does!" The golden warrior only let out a faint whimper of distress before stumbling off to the wash racks, no doubt to scrub himself 'til his paint began to flake, then reapply a fresh coat of the golden color and gloss, and finally wax himself a good measure.

Prowl smirked. "I like her."

"Too bad she don't lahk you," Ironhide drawled, a wide grin on his face plates.

"Oh, and you think she would like you better?" the black and white Datsun challenged.

Ironhide's grin expanded. "Ah know she lahks meh." He had helped Ratchet watch the human tot when the medic absolutely needed recharge and refueling. He had learned that the little girl, indeed, liked him. To prove his point, he put a single digit in front of the tiny girl. He didn't have to wait long for her to reach for the digit and pull it to her like a valuable toy, gripping it with her little arms. For some reason, she began gnawing on as much of the corner of his dark finger as she could fit in her tiny mouth. Ironhide choked, forcing is face straight with an effort, obviously trying to repress his laughter. "Tha' tickles. She ain't done tha' bahfore."

Ratchet rolled his optics and swatted the old warrior's servo away from the infant, listening, in faint amusement, to the small cry of protest from the baby girl. "Keep your digits away from her mouth. I don't know where your servos have been."

Ironhide smirked, nudging his old friend in the shoulder with his elbow-joint. "Gettin' prahtective, Ratch? Considerin' ta be 'er replacement Carrier?"

"Say that again and I'll weld all your joints and seems shut. Especially the lower ones."

Then in barreled Wheeljack, covered head to ped in soot from his latest explosion. "Did I miss seeing her? Is the baby still awake?" his head-fins flickered anxiously.

A delighted squeal answered his question as the baby caught sight of the engineer. She looked at him for a long moment and started laughing ridiculously hard, her face flushing. Her entire body shook with the force of her laughter. Ratchet fought to contain his own snickers. "I guess she thinks you're a riot, 'Jack."

The inventor's head-fins flashed happily, making the baby chortle even harder. "If she's not careful, she'll blow a fuse." The tiny girl held up her arms, declaring what she wanted. When Wheeljack hesitated, she gave a demanding screech, clenching and unclenching her hands in a grabbing motion. Delicately, the engineer picked up the tiny girl into his gray servo, watching her as she cooed contentedly and started talking. She jabbered nonsense, making strange noises, so fast and casually that it was like she was really communicating with him as she rolled around in his servo, limbs flailing in excitement.

The white medic tilted his helm to the side. "Well. That's new."

Wheeljack decided to humor the tiny female, nodding to everything that she said, as if he understood every word. This went on for well over three minutes, when she began slow down, looking at Jazz's visor in distraction as it flickered. His optics alight in delight at how well the small being had taken to him, Wheeljack decided that she was finished and soothingly set her back on the berth, her pale form covered in gray and black smudges.

"Wow. She really liked you," Sideswipe commented quietly, slightly jealous.

"Yeah. She did, didn't she?" The inventor almost puffed in pride.

Ratchet growled, grabbed a nearby wrench and smacked the inventor on the helm, leaving a decent sized dent in the metal. "Dumbaft. Now she's dirty and I have to clean her up! And why the frag did you let your Electro-pulse Beam explode? I thought you said it was harmless."

His optics dimmed to express his sheepish grin beyond the mask. "Well, I thought I'd give it a little extra juice and I add some energon to the fuel-" He was interrupted by another smack to his helm.

"Idiot."

The resulting shriek of amusement made everyone present start. The baby girl was literally rolling from side to side with how funny she thought the smack was. Sideswipe grinned. "Do it again. She likes it."

Ratchet cheerfully complied, cracking his beloved wrench upside Sideswipe's helm, knocking the red mech flat on his aft. The baby squealed gleefully, her laughter gradually replaced by hiccups. The mechs present chuckled quietly at the squeaks and light jumps. "I thin' we 'ave 'noth'r Hatchet, 'ere," Jazz snickered, his visor flickering lightly.

"Oh joy," the red Lamborghini twin deadpanned, rubbing his aching helm.

The doors to the medbay slid open, and the Autobot leader, Optimus Prime, strolled calmly through the door. Prime approached the medical berth, staring at the hiccupping infant curiously, who stared right back with the same intensity. Ratchet regarded his CO warily. What does Prime think of having such a young human in the base? The Matrix carrier stood silently for a breem before turning to face his CMO. "Is she fully repaired?"

A nod. "Yes. All her wounds have been closed. Though, many will leave visible scarring."

Optimus regarded the baby girl again before giving a brief nod. "I trust you will find her parents and return her?"

Ratchet did his best not to flinch. He liked this delightful little female. She found him amusing, sneezed on Sunstreaker, glared at Sideswipe, she adores Wheeljack. He found himself faintly unwilling to return her to her family. But, on the other servo, she belonged with her own kind. She was a human, after all. "Yes, Prime. I'll get right on it."

Optimus nodded, turning silently and exiting the medbay but not before briefly adding, "She's charming. Keep her away from the twins, unless you want her to become a servo-full like them."

Ratchet snorted, his mouth twitching while Ironhide roared in laughter at the indignant expression on Sideswipe's face plates. "Oh come on! We're not that bad! What is it, Pick on a Lambo Day?"

Jazz smirked. "Seems fair, considerin' how big a pain in da aft you an' yo' brother can be on a regular basis."

The frontliner grumbled, casting playful glares at the TiC. Prowl, always putting work before pleasantries, swept out of the room, calling behind him, "I'll look for reports on missing offspring. Perhaps her Creator and Carrier have reported her absence."

Ratchet glared at the SiC's back as he left. Yes, her parents would no doubt be relieved to hear that their offspring was well, but that didn't mean that he had to do it this instant! Ratchet, as much as he hated to admit it, liked spending time with and caring for this little one. Maybe Ironhide was right when he said he wanted to be her adopted parent. Ratchet growled quietly. But defiantly not the Carrier. That was Wheeljack. He had more 'motherly qualities', as the humans called it. Ratchet was a Creator, through and through, the 'father figure'. But that didn't mean he didn't like caring for younglings.

The CMO sighed quietly, lifting the child, who cooed happily, and carried her to his quarters, dismissing the other mechs present. They left, almost reluctantly, except for Wheeljack who followed him. "You want to keep her, don't you?" he asked quietly, despite his certainty that he knew the answer.

The white medic carried the child to his personal washracks, turning the water to lukewarm, squatting down with her and a wash rag to begin scrubbing the grime from her fragile body. "I can't. We have to take her back."

"That's not what I asked you."

Setting down the little girl, making sure she couldn't wander off or drown, Ratchet stood with a huff. "Yeah, I want to keep her. She's adorable. I wish I didn't have to return her to her family. She's a handful already, but I like her. As much as I hate to admit it, I like having someone who needs me to care for them every day." The old medic gave a helpless little gesture. "I like having an offspring. A little one to raise, call my own, teach right from wrong. I want to be a Creator."

Wheeljack stared at his longtime mate and dearest friend quietly before wrapping him in a gentle hug. "I know, Ratch. And I know the Dinobots weren't enough."

Ratchet buried his helm in the inventor's shoulder, his servos hanging limply to his sides. "I didn't even get to watch them grow. They were just created in their adult forms."

A small inquizative squeak drew both sets of optics back to the grime-covered infant. She looked at them, almost like she understood everything that was going on. Her eyes, those little pools of chocolate warmth, stared up at them, almost as if she was begging them not to be sad. Ratchet smiled faintly and knelt down, continuing to scrub the infant with a soft rag and a dab of low-strength cleanser. Wheeljack watched the touching scene for a moment before slipping out silently. Ratchet needed this and the engineer just wanted his mate to be happy…

Ratchet stared stupidly at the Datsun. "Are you kidding me?"

The black and white Praxian's doorwings twitched, but his faceplates remained neutral. "I never kid, Ratchet. I have the video-file right here. Your human is officially an orphan." Prowl popped in the data-disk and pressed the little green play symbol. The holo-film showed two humans, both well dressed and obviously of higher class, walking through the rain, most likely heading home, the female carrying her infant; the infant now in the Ark. Out of seemingly no-where, Ravage pounced out in front of the couple, cutting off their path. But they didn't seem frightened. They spoke to the mechanical feline as if they had done so before. The conversation seemed business in nature, both parties apparently at ease. Then things slowly began to spiral out of control. Ravage snapped his jaws at them, obviously a warning, and cast his attention to the female and her burden. She shook her head at him. The female clutched her infant tighter to her chest as Ravage took a step forward. The male was yelling at the Cassetticon now, trying to make him leave. It had the opposite effect. The result was two humans lying in their own blood, slashed to near ribbons, and the child hauled out of visual range.

Ratchet stared in horror at what he had just witnessed. He knew that the Decepticons were monsters but he had no idea that they would go this far. And the same question kept nagging his processor: why, in Primus' name, would they want a human child?

Prowl ejected the disk and placed it in a file, setting it aside in favor of a datapad. "They made no mention of who was to care for the child in their will. They do not have any known relatives who are capable of taking in the child. The humans' default result is that she will be placed in a home for others who also lack a creator and carrier and put up for adoption." A small twitch at the corner of the Datsun's mouth alerted Ratchet that this was not everything.

"Where are you going with this, Prowl?"

The SiC leaned back in his chair, setting down the datapad. "Wheeljack spoke to me about how much the child means to you." Ratchet opened his mouth, no doubt to curse out Wheeljack for saying anything, but paused when the Praxian held up his servo. "And I spoke to Prime. He, in turn, made a request of the humans. They have agreed. Ratchet," Prowl handed a small slip of paper to the medic and smiled broadly, "you are now the proud Creator of the human child."

Ratchet flopped back in his seat, his processor spinning as he looked at the paper. Him? A Creator? Of a human? The medic couldn't believe it. Prowl continued, "The child's birth name is Cheyenne Freedom Wilder. Would you like to have it changed? Given that she is so young, a designation alteration is a simple matter."

The old medic considered it for a moment. A nice name, but not one fitting of a Cybertronian. And any offspring of his would be raised like a Cybertronian, that was certain. "Actually, yes, I'd like to change it. I want to call her…" The ambulance smiled as he recalled her various moods. "Wildstrike."