The Autobot Chief Medical Officer walked down the hall in a slow trance.
His loved one…his sparkmate….
Gone.
in yer arms
What had he done today?
Every day was the same. Get up. Tend to the minor to major wounds of the Autobots. Get a cube of energon to refuel on his down time. Go on patrol. Fix a few objects. Do a various task
good night, Ratchet
Then he would just lie in his berth for a while…and his processor would reflect on the events of the day.
But not today.
Today his processor seemed to drift off…to him. That other mech. The one that used to share his berth, his quarters, his time
your spark
He curled up in pain. He could only remember pain for the longest time.
And the memories…
Those fragging memories were practically on repeat in his processor.
He couldn't forget…he didn't want to.
The medic gave out a soft sigh and started to shake. If one were standing in the dark room with him; they would only see the silhouette of a figure trembling.
His denta were clenched together tightly. This was a nightly routine; crying in the dark, empty space.
The space that used to be occupied by another.
Love you, Ratchet
That bright personality…the cheerful laughter…his optimistic opposite…
"….are you still here…?"
No answer. He should have known. He was about to slip into a restless recharge again…but the memory came back like a bad virus.
And this time there was no one to shelter him from it.
Bombs. Explosions. Fire. Burning, crumbling buildings. Human bodies that were flattened; crushed, maimed, bent or broken in some way littered the streets. To call this an apocalypse would be an understatement.
'Is this what we're fighting for…?'
"Medic!"
He spun around. He needed to get to the caller of that word. That sacred word from which he could not refuse but to answer.
Target acquired.
It was a familiar paintjob; that solid red with a small frame. Eager optics looked at him; and as Ratchet came closer he noticed it.
There was an iron beam through the small chassis' chestplates. It was a miracle he wasn't already offline.
The small mech looked at him with pleading, bright optics…and then went limp.
He didn't even have time to try to help the small soldier. The fierce little spark that once beat was gone. The battle ready hothead was in the Well of All Sparks now…
And he had failed the youngling. No older than his lookalike; the yellow beetle…
They had lost that one about a month ago. Found his frame at the entrance to the Ark. He had been tortured to death. His frame in odd positions; bent where they weren't supposed to be. His left optic had been gauged out; and his right had had a dagger or some other sharp object of sorts run through it. His little yellow chestplate was singed black; as though they had left him in a room of fire. His right arm had been torn off; never recovered. And his left was cut in what appeared to be random spots; but in autopsy had been pre-calculated and aimed for energon lines. His legs were shredded. There was a nub on one and his other leg was torn to ribbons. Dry energon was caked onto his chassis. A few fingers from the missing limb had been shoved into his mouth; rising the question if the rest of his arm was in his tanks. No one had dared to look.
The little yellow bug didn't stand a chance at the ferocity of the Cons.
And the worst part is that they didn't even know he was missing until the next day after he was gone.
Not yer fault, Ratch…
His processor went back to the battle. One after one he saw his fellow comrade's fall. He had been able to save a few…the blue and red winged vanity Corvette Stingray that had been shot from the sky….the small grey sniper Datsun; who had his wings ripped out of his back…the ex con flightier scientist that had been shot in the back-literally-by his 'old friend'…so many went down that day. Not all of them came back. The Lamborghini twins…taken by the Seekers and never did they return. The Autobots weren't able to launch a rescue mission while their numbers were so low and in such critical condition…the eldest Datsun…second in command…shot down by the purple, emotionless scientist with only one gold loathed optic. Third in command tried to save him…Ratchet got to him in time at least. The Autobot's red scientist, green tracker, and part-time builder and healer….they were all trying. They were. However…none compared to his protégé….or they didn't; when his protégé was still with them. The little medic in training had been infected with Cosmic Rust while on patrol…they didn't even get to recover a body; his frame disappearing into the wind.
The worst part had to be going around that corner…feeling the familiar tug on his spark…the building was on fire; ready to collapse.
It was who was in it that mattered to him.
The medic walked into the hole in the wall…and in the back corner; underneath a collapsed ceiling that he had fallen through…
That was his sparkmate.
His bonded.
"Wheeljack…"
"Heya, Ratch…what took ya so long…?"
His words were slurred. There was energon trickling down Wheeljack's partially broken blast mask…one of his headfins were cracked; the other shattered. His optics were fine; thankfully. The rest of his frame was not however…his arm was fractured; the infrastructure showing from underneath the armor plating. His chestplate was dented and chipped; but otherwise appeared stable. One of his winglets was broken at the tip. His legs had looked like they had taken extreme duress…and he lay there, in a pool of his own energon and rubble.
The engineer chuckled; even though it caused his frame to shudder and his systems to momentarily splutter. He looked up at the medic with calm optics.
"Wheeljack…"
"That's my designation…" He coughed; an energon line went out somewhere in his frame from the sound of it. "Don't wear it out."
He stood there; stunned. Then he shook his helm and unsteadily moved over to the injured mech; starting his process with a scan. "You're…you're alright…you're gonna be alright-"
He felt something stop his servo that was holding the scanner.
The Lancia looked up at him with knowing optics and slowly shook his helm. The medic immediately yanked his servo from the others grasp and started again furiously. Again he felt that soft; pleading touch. The medic looked back down and could swear he seen the smirk in the other's optics. He also saw his own reflection.
Energon tears stained his faceplates; old and fresh.
"W-Wheeljack…don't worry; I'll-"
The medics bonded only shook his helm.
"Too much Ratch…it's okay. It's okay."
The medic felt the touch of the other trying to wrap his better arm around him. He bent down and held his lover close. So close. Close enough to feel the sparkbeat beneath the battered and broken armor.
And then the medic broke. His frame shook; and he couldn't stop. He held the Lancia tightly and spoke softly into his audio.
"I'm s…sorry…Wheeljack…"
"Not yer fault, Ratch…"
"I can't fix you…"
He clenched his denta together. Something reeked of melting rubber.
The engineer only shook his helm more.
"No…ya can't. But…I'm…with ya. I promise."
The medic let out a sob. What could he do? His lover was in his grasp and he couldn't save him!
"I'll be with ya…"
Pause
"your spark"
Pause
"…it'll be where I stay with you…"
A few of his systems started shutting down.
"Ratchet…"
The medic immediately looked at the engineer; concerned.
"What is it, Jack?"
His bonded only chuckled again; spilling energon once more.
"Kinda sheepish…to admit it…but I can't see…anymore…."
"I'm not leaving; don't worry."
The medic smiled down at the engineer; even if he couldn't see it, he could feel the commitment over their bond.
"Ratch….ya have to go…"
He sat there in stunned silence.
"There are other bots…they need ya."
"I'm not leaving you!"
"Ya have to, Ratch…the beams won't hold out…forever…"
Even as the Lancia tilted his helm so his faceplate faced the ceiling; the medic knew it was true. He could smell the burning rubber and wood of the debris.
Ratchet only shook his helm.
"I'm bringing you with me!"
"…no…I'll only…slow ya down…"
The engineer smirked beneath his blast mask.
"Go. I'll be alright."
Ratchet only sat there; holding him.
"Look; Ratch; I know ya…want me to offline i-in…in yer arms…"
"But ya need to go. I won't let ya join me to the Well…not today. Ya still have too much work to do."
There it is.
That cheeky grin of his that the medic seen when his other teammates were deep in recharge. The one that the engineer reserved especially for him.
"…go Ratchet…I'll…talk with ya over the bond…promise…"
He felt a light shove. He engineer was working himself out of the medic's arms; despite his weakened state. Now he lay there on the ground…covered in soot as the beams creaked ominously.
Ratchet felt new energon prick the sides of his optics.
"Now now, Ratch…ya don't need to cry for me…"
Ratchet couldn't find words. They were all choked up; but not in his throat. They were clogged up in his processor; like he couldn't figure out what he wanted to say first. He wanted to say everything of course…everything that he never told the Lancia. Everything he felt; everything he knew…
Everything he would never be able to tell him tomorrow and the days after.
"Go now…it's alright. Please; Ratchet…the building won't hold out much longer…"
The medic felt all the love; all the warmth, all the concern and all the worry flood over to his side of their shared bond. He felt dizzy for a second before he felt himself rise up to his pedes; but not by choice. He felt numb as he stood.
"…good…yer doin'…good Ratchet…now ya need to walk…"
So he took a step back…and then another. Away from the one who had stood by his side all these eons. He slowly walked away from the mech who was slowly dying in front of him. And he let himself be carried by this foreign feeling.
"K…keep goin', Ratchet…"
His vocals were straining. Must have blown one of his vocal compartments.
The medic turned and walked out; only turning back around when he had made it to the door of the building. The mech who stared blankly back at him coughed; not really seeing him but instead sensing him from his spark.
'Yer okay; Ratchet. Don't be scared. Yer gonna be okay; I promise…'
The medic turned and kept walking; listening for any of the sacred cries for help.
'Heh…ya know; it's a shame…woulda…woulda been nice to offline…'
The medic felt a lopsided surge through their bond; not one of pain but more of discomfort. The Lancia must have turned off his pain receptors when he found out he wasn't going to…
He cringed.
'…in yer arms…'
Pause
'…woulda been nice to…go that way...'
Pause
'Love you, Ratchet'
'I…love you too…Wheeljack…so much…'
Pause
This pause felt like forever. Worry began building up in the medic's chest. He prodded at the bond a bit.
Something stirred. The building came crashing down behind him.
'good night, Ratchet'
And then everything went black.
When the medic woke up; he was back in his berth. Energon was smeared over his faceplate. He looked to the side of the berth…where he used to lay. Cold…empty. Just like how his spark felt.
The medic was lucky to be alive; they said.
He sat up and brought his knees to his chest; like he has seen many humans do when they are upset. He sobbed into his knee cables; his arms wrapped around his legs protectively and he sat there. Shaking; trembling…rocking himself back and forth and wishing with his entire spark that he could see his sparkmate one last time.
He took the time to reflect; if only for a moment, that question about luck.
Because in the end…was he truly the lucky one…..?