Disclaimer: I still don't own TFP

Rafael was only nine when it happened. In retrospect, nine isn't that far from twelve. Three years, actually. Three years since it happened. Raf's grades had gotten him noticed again, and his parents were fighting, again. He could smell the alcohol; Dad always had a beer when he was wound up. Oh, but he never got violent. He got angry, shouted yeah (and that'd develop into a niche for Raf when he got older) but he never got physical. His dad was big, grumpy, and kind.

He'd pick Raf up and bounce him after the fights, grabbing his mom and getting the three of them on the couch. They fought, yeah, but parents do fight. His mom would get everyone something to snack on as they watched a movie to calm down. Raf could identify what kind of beer his dad drank, after so many years and a slightly sporadic menu to memorize. This time it was a weak one, something that he recognized as what the local teenagers drank when hiding at the edge of Jasper. Their town was sleepy, quiet. It hardly ever rained, being out in the desert, but that suited Raf fine. When it rained, it flooded.

He knew he had to have fallen asleep, because when he realized his mom was screaming in his ears, he also realized he was wrapped in his Dad's coat. It stunk of the beer, and Raf would forever have a tick whenever he smelled Leon Gold. Dad only gave Raf his coat when he went out driving. His mom's hand was grasping his too tightly, squeezing his knuckles hard as they walked together in the hospital hall. His older cousins and uncle were with them, his cousins ignoring him like they always did. They looked bored, not understanding what was going on, like him. His hands stayed as they were the entire time, one clutching his dad's coat and the other clinging to his mother's hand. The doctor stopped them, looking grim, and even though he was too young, Raf only had to watch his mom break down to understand it.

His tenth birthday had a few toys from the children at school which included some that were broken or had missing parts. They knew the story about his dad. Raf didn't let it get to him, though. He was smart; he fixed the toys, made them better than before. He played outside the park and school grounds, more near the drains of the city. The trenches were dry, since it hardly ever rained in Jasper. He preferred it. At least here, he knew he was completely alone, not just ignored by everyone at the house.

It was better.

Bee was easy to get along with; Rafael didn't understand why nobody else could understand Bee. The Autobots and he could tell what Bumblebee was saying just fine. Ratchet often got a look on his face, though; Raf thought it looked bad. He didn't really like it when Ratchet was grumpy. But Ratchet seemed okay with teaching Raf stuff. Like Cybertronian code, and history of Cybertron too. And Raf liked learning, so it only made sense.

It scared him when Ratchet worked on the SynthEn, then came back from a mission and bounced Raf in his hand. He knew immediately what was going on, and as he watched in secret over the next few days, he was outright horrified to see what'd been happening. But as angry and horrified as he was, Raf was also scared. Too scared to confront Ratchet about it. The medic seemed honestly happy, when he wasn't angry for one reason or another. Then, when Ratchet was brought back leaking green, Miko and Jack had to restrain Raf as he lost it and freaked out. Even Bumblebee was startled by how badly Raf reacted, and it was only thanks to the scout's inquiries that stopped Raf short from screaming 'DAD!' as he tried to claw his way out of Jack's grip to get to Ratchet.

Ratchet was currently on the table, lying prone as he recovered. The Energon transfusions were helping, so he decided to climb up onto the berth and start helping to repair a few things. Ratchet's groan as Raf started on the injury on his chest plate told him the mech was coming to, but Raf continued his work, concentrating on not letting the tools falling from his hands.

"Ra...Rafael?" Ratchet's voice was weak; it made Raf falter a little. Had his dad sounded like that in the wreck? He'd died in the operating room, and the doctor had said he was deliriously muttering the entire time. Raf shook it off, trying to stay strong. "Rafael...I..." Raf did not want to look up. He didn't want to see the expression Ratchet no doubt had on his face. He didn't think he could handle it. "I'm sorry."

The tools almost slipped from his hands. "I went out of control." Stop it. "I was blinded by my urges to be useful." Stop. it. "I endangered everyone." Stop. "I'm sorry-" "STOP."

The word came out in a hoarse croak. Ratchet's optics were wide as he looked down at the human, who was slumped over his chest, shaking. "Don't EVER do that again." It was a demand, a harsh plea, and as Raf's shaking worsened, his spark sank; he'd hurt Raf worse than the other bots. Raf was crying because of his reckless actions. He couldn't fathom why it was hurting Rafael so badly, but as his hand came up to rest on Raf's back, he knew he hated seeing this, and he needed to make sure it never happened again. Raf's shaking tapered off at the weight on his back, and after a few moments of heavy breaths as he got himself under control, Rafael resumed his work.

Ratchet put himself back under after a few minutes of watching Raf work (when had he gotten so knowledgeable about their body structure? Oh right, he'd taught the child himself). Just before he went under completely, though, he could've sworn he heard a soft murmur behind the sound of the tools.

"I don't want to lose another dad."