Quicky summary first.
They weren't supposed to die. Ratchet, Ironhide, Wheeljack, and all the others of the battle of 2005 were not supposed to die. The Grim Reaper is willing to give them another chance, but the problem is they are the ones who have to bring themselves back to life, and they have to save the living from their own demise. That is hard when your only access to the land of the living is dreams! Sometimes, you have to enlist the aid of old friends and riddles to achieve your ends…
Where have all the soldiers gone?
Long time passing…
Where have all the soldiers gone?
Long time ago…
Where have all the soldiers gone?
They've gone to the graveyard, everyone.
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?
--Where Have All the Flowers Gone by Pete Seeger and Joe Hickerson
--
Darkness. There was darkness everywhere. Not even in the purely physical sense, but there was a lack of sound, scent, taste, or anything, and this infectious darkness seemed to have leaked into his mind.
He couldn't remember anything. He couldn't think. He couldn't so much as let out a moan through his vocal synthesizer. The darkness swelled and lapped at him like a hungry ocean. The ocean swelled once more, then retreated, leaving him in a vast nothingness so empty that it was devoid of even darkness.
He grasped onto errant feelings like a life support vest. Unexplained feelings, unnamed feelings, unpleasant feelings… They were there. He didn't know how or why but they were there.
Feelings evolved slowly into thought. As though he were working with cut and paste, he labeled the feelings spinning through his processor. They were feelings of loss, desperation, and regret.
Now why did he feel all that?
Memories bubbled to the surface. At first it was only wisps of images. There was the image of a mech working on an unknown project while he spoke with him. He seemed somewhat detached from the memory, and he could see a mech that was him, but wasn't, speaking with the other mech now. Perhaps, the mech he was but wasn't was someone he once was or was to become? But that would be impossible. One couldn't see what they would become; they could only see what they once were.
The two mechs were talking, but he couldn't understand what they said. He couldn't understand speech anymore. He didn't have to; the mechs' expressions were enough. They were friends… weren't they?
The wisp of memory faded and sunk into the pool of memories flashing before him. An especially insistent one came forward. This one wasn't as nice as the last one; this one was of terrible things, of war and destruction. He felt a new emotion at the sight of these things. He felt fear. It was fear for the mechs in the burning blaze of war, he remembered.
He shoved the evil memory away. A gentler one entered his mind with a feather-light touch. He saw himself smiling and talking with a couple other mechs. He could understand snippets of the conversation. He heard one of the mechs he was talking to talking excitedly about a project it was working on. Odd blinkers on each side of its face flashed a happy light blue. He heard himself say that as long as the mech with the odd blinkers didn't blow itself up, he was happy.
He felt himself sliding into his past entity with more and more ease. Faces flashed across his processor, and he labeled them with feelings rather then names. Faster and faster did the faces come, and more and more memories came to greet the faces. Names arose and mixed with memories, thoughts mixed with feelings, and suddenly he found himself in a whirlpool of the past and present. Through the vortex he found his own name.
Ratchet.
Ratchet's optics snapped open and he shot into a sitting position, chest heaving for air. The air was cold and it stung the sensitive metal inside his mouth and air recyclers, but that didn't matter. Everything around him was pitch-black darkness. He saw he was on a stone floor, but that was all he could really see.
Ratchet ran a hand across the floor. To accomplish what, he wasn't sure, but he needed to do something with his hands. How had he gotten here? What did he remember last…?
The shuttle! Ratchet tried to jump to his feet but his newly awakened legs wouldn't hold him so he crashed ungracefully to the ground. Uncaring, he composed himself physically while emotionally he was in a turmoil. The Decepticons had invaded the ship and shot Brawn and Prowl badly. From what he had seen they were at the very least critically wounded, and then he himself was shot.
He sifted through his memory of the incident. Obviously he wasn't in the shuttle anymore and he felt fine, no harm detected. Ironhide must've contacted the Autobots after all, or maybe another ship nearby had saved them…
But it didn't make sense. What was this place? It was certainly not a shuttle from a third party, or Autobot city, or Cybertron for that matter, so where was he?…
A slight moan broke into his thoughts. Ratchet peered into the darkness in search of the source. He reset his optics to see through it better, and he gasped slightly at what he saw.
Sprawled less than gracefully on the stone ground was Wheeljack. Ratchet crawled to his friend and turned him over to get a good look at him. He seemed uninjured. It was just then that his optics flickered on.
"Ratcheeeetttt…" Wheeljack murmured. He sounded as though he hadn't spoken in years upon years, and his vocal processor must've been taking its sweet time getting properly rebooted.
"I'm here, old friend," Ratchet murmured just as quietly. He noticed that his voice also sounded like he hadn't spoken in a long time. Both of them felt the mutual uncertainty hanging around them like a thick blanket. Neither knew what this place was, and both were strangely afraid of it. Neither of them had to say it, but the friends had always been able to read each other easily. They just sought silent comfort as Wheeljack's vocal processor rebooted.
"Ratchet, what happened? The battle… Autobot City…" Wheeljack said, attempting to talk despite his current vocal problem. Ratchet cocked his head slightly.
"Autobot City? I don't remember that. All I remember is that the Decepticons were taking over the shuttle Prowl, Ironhide, Brawn and I were flying," Ratchet said.
"I remember the Decepticons jumped out of the shuttle you were flying and stormed Autobot city. I was fighting with Windcharger and…" Wheeljack's blinkers flashed a confused orange. "No… that can't be right… I remember getting shot by Blitzwing at point-blank range. That should've killed me…"
Ratchet frowned in puzzlement. "You're right, it should've. Then again, if you're right about the Decepticons coming out of our shuttle then they would've successfully hijacked it, and that would mean I should be dead too," he shook his head. "There are too many questions here. We should see if anyone else is here, and then we decide what to do."
"Then we will be deciding soon," a familiar voice echoed from the abyss. Wheeljack sat up and he and Ratchet looked towards the voice. Prowl, Ironhide, Huffer, Brawn, and Windcharger seemed to materialize from the darkness. Ratchet and Wheeljack stood up, leaning on each other for support.
"Guys! How…?" Ratchet asked. Ironhide chuckled.
"Prowl here woke up abou' fifteen minutes ago. We were all close t'gether so he was able to get us up," he said.
"We searched the place already. You guys are the only other Autobots we found," Brawn said.
"Any idea where we are?" Wheeljack asked.
"No," Prowl said simply. Huffer grumbled to himself.
"I already hate this place! It's cold, it's dark, and there're no slagging doors! Where in the pit are we?" he grumbled angrily. The medic and engineer looked at him, surprised.
"There aren't any doors?" Ratchet asked.
"Then what is that?" Wheeljack asked, pointing behind the newcomers. Everyone looked to see what Wheeljack was pointing at to see a small trail of a lit up passage, leading to a large door.
Everyone was silent for a long moment.
"Where did that come from?" Windcharger asked no one in particular. Brawn scowled at the door.
"Someone's toying with us, and I don't like it," he growled. Prowl waved it off.
"It's the only chance we have to figure out where we are. Let's go," he said. They all started off to the door, Ratchet and 'Jack able to walk mostly on their own now. The door swung open invitingly and let the wayward Autobots inside.
Behind the door was another stone room that had a lot better lighting. There was a fire at the center of it a there was someone sifting through several tapestries and papers next to it.
"God damn it, what is with the Tecklahians and killing each other? Jesus Christ they would drive me to an early grave had I been able to die…" the 'someone' muttered. In the light of the fire the Cybertronians were able to see it wave them in.
"Come on, come on. I see you. Get closer! I need to clear some of these things to get a good look…" it muttered. The Autobots cautiously stepped forward and the person shuffled some tapestries out of the way, giving them a nice view of its face.
It was a human girl, who apparently was their size. She had waist-length black hair, icy blue eyes, and couldn't have been older then nine. Smooth olive-colored skin accented shadows cast along her body due to the flicking light of the fire. She had a black robe on with what looked like an old tribal anklet hanging loosely on her ankle. Tiny black tattoos shaped like tears, or maybe stars, decorated the corners of her eyes. At the moment she looked over-worked and frazzled.
"Well don't just stand there, go and make yourselves comfortable. I hope if you don't mind me going through some of this while we talk. These past few millennia have swamped me with work. Damn, how many people lived on that planet? They just had to go blow it up, now, didn't they?" the girl had turned back to the piles of tapestries and papers while she continued to grumble to herself. The Autobots regarded her uncertainly.
"Who are you?" Wheeljack finally asked. She glanced at him.
"Oh, you haven't figured it out yet? I shouldn't be surprised. Nearly no one realizes it at first," she shoved a few more papers to the side and bobbed slightly on the balls of her feet.
"I'll put it simply. I'm the Grim Reaper and you all have died," she said. She sifted through some papers again, waiting for the explosion.
"What??"
Ah, there it was.
"What kind of Decepticon trick is this?"
"That is impossible!"
"Primus damn it, give us some answers!"
The exclamations came in a flood. The Grim Reaper sighed and rolled her eyes, taking out a quill pen and writing something on one of the papers she was holding. She threw a glance at the robots and sighed.
"I'm not lying. Here, I'll show you," she murmured. Her eyes flashed and the fire went out, plunging the world into darkness.
Ratchet could see his Autobot friends below him. Not the ones with him as of late, but the ones the 'Grim Reaper' claimed he left behind. They were all building something, and it was with a sinking spark Ratchet realized that they were building a mausoleum.
'Bots came from the outside to bring in what was obviously coffins. They carried the coffins with gentle care, and everyone building stopped to watch them pass.
"The mourning service is being held now, if you want to say goodbye now's the time," Jazz's uncharacteristically serious voice came from one of the chambers. Everyone nodded and the coffins were brought to different chambers, some going in the same one, some going separate. Ratchet followed a specific coffin to its chamber, noticing that it had been painted the colors of his own armor.
He passed through the walls into the burial chamber, and noticed that another coffin was placed besides his own, and both had pictures of the one they belonged to on top. They were pictures of Wheeljack and himself.
He noticed the door open, and he turned to see who came in. His spark nearly broke at the expression on Swoop's face as he landed besides the coffins. The small dinobot was silent for a while.
"Me, Swoop, no know what to say to Ratchet and Wheeljack. Swoop come without other dinobots, because Swoop wants to say goodbye, and other dinobots not ready to say goodbye to Ratchet and Wheeljack yet." Swoop hesitantly rested a small hand on one of the coffins. "Me, Swoop, not sure if he is ready either. But Swoop want to know that he did say goodbye. Spike say that saying goodbye makes Swoop feel better, like Ratchet and Wheeljack are still here. Me, Swoop, wish Ratchet and Wheeljack still here."
Ratchet wanted to reach out to the small dinobot. He wanted to scream that, yes, he was here. He felt the presence of Wheeljack next to him and knew he was going through something similar.
Swoop rested his head against the cool stone of the coffin. "Swoop convince Perceptor to come. Swoop say that Perceptor is upset, like Swoop and other dinobots are. Twins are upset too. Everyone is upset. But Perceptor no cry or get angry yet. Spike say that that's no good for Perceptor. Swoop thinks that he is not ready to say goodbye yet, like other dinobots are. But Swoop convince Perceptor to come, because Swoop think that it would help him. He should come next. Swoop misses you, Ratchet and Wheeljack." Swoop hugged the stone coffins and flew out the door. He seemed lighter then when he went in.
The door opened again and Perceptor shuffled in, obviously being encouraged to do so by Swoop from the outside. The door swung closed, leaving the scientist alone with two corpses and two ghosts. He hesitated, and then walked behind the coffins, against the wall. He slid down until he was sitting, still not saying anything. Swoop was right; Perceptor was not ready to mourn.
Perceptor just sat there, looking at the coffins with empty optics. He didn't say anything, nor did he move to do so.
"Perceptor…" words escaped Ratchet despite himself. Perceptor perked up and looked around the room. Wait a second, that shouldn't happen, did he actually hear Ratchet…?
Ratchet felt Wheeljack's presence shuffle nervously next to him. If this was a hologram, it was very realistic. They both came to a silent agreement that, if there were any way this was real, then Primus dammit they would help their friend!
Ratchet and Wheeljack both drifted to Perceptor, feet never touching the ground. They kneeled on either side of him and, after a moment's hesitation, they pulled him into a group hug. If Wheeljack and Ratchet were visible, this would've been the kind of picture the twins would kill to have.
Perceptor just shuttered his optics and savored the feeling. Sure, he realized he was probably going completely and utterly insane but at the moment he didn't much care. He couldn't see either ghost, but he felt them. Of course he knew that they most likely weren't really there, that would be impossible, but it would be nice to lose himself in a grief-induced hallucination, just once.
The ghosts finally realized that this was real. They were really dead, and those coffins held their bodies. They both tightened their grip and Ratchet said the only thing he could think to say.
"Take care of yourself, old friend." With those words, the world around them faded away.
A/N
Hola my readers! How'd you like it? Okay, I hope to get the second chapter up soon. This was inspired by a few fics. (There You'll Be by Kittie1, Autobot Angels by Dragoness Eclectic, and a picture I saw on Deviantart called Prowl Takes On Wings by Scream01.) And my beta is Maieve Avvi, so a big round of applause for Avvi! -claps- Review please, guys!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did, I'd bring the G1 back on television and make this happen there.