For all those Smokescreen fans out there!
This will be either a two-shot or three-shot, depending on the direction it decides to take, though it will probably be the former.
Disclaimer: I own nothing; as per usual, the rights all belong to someone a whole lot luckier than me!
"Once more, into the brain pan." Knock Out seemed resigned and annoyed with these orders.
"No! Not again, stay out of my head!" Smokescreen, on the other hand, was terrified.
Then the adrenaline had kicked in (figuratively) as the young Autobot saw his chance to escape, which he grasped with both servos.
He was never going through that again.
Dusk was falling as a heavy backdrop against the abandoned missile silo that housed the Autobot Outpost Omega One as its residents prepared to relax, finally. Normally, fighting an eon-long war as refugees on a planet with fragile life-forms was stressful enough, but today they'd been whirled off on a rollercoaster of emotions.
Worry for Smokescreen and what the Decepticons were doing to him.
Relief when his comm. had come through.
A sharp stab of sadness when the rookie's signal had been lost.
Elation that, no, he was actually fine, and had managed to secure two Omega Keys, bringing their total up to three.
Speculation regarding the final one.
Suspicion at Starscream's message.
And, last of all, concern at what the rogue 'Con would do with the power he now held.
It had taken them a long time to clean up after the sprinkler system, as water now soaked the entire base, and, while it didn't affect the Autobots, the human equipment wasn't so fortunate. Despite their best efforts, water dripped in rivulets down the stairs and platforms to pool on the concrete below. Eventually deciding that the humans could help them finish the job the next day ("Hopefully keeping Miko out of trouble for a moment," grumbled Ratchet), the 'Bots turned in, more than ready for a good recharge.
The old medic however, had one last task he knew he must carry out before the luxury of a power-down could happen.
"Smokescreen, please can I see you briefly in the med-bay?" Although the way he phrased it didn't leave much room for negotiation.
"Sure Doc, what's up?" Even at this Primus-forsaken hour the rookie managed to bounce around with too much energy.
"Will you please stand still! I need to run a few scans, to make sure the Decepticons haven't caused you any damage. I also require a brief report on what happened up there, for my records; however that can wait until after Optimus has debriefed you."
Smokescreen groaned heavily, "come on Ratch', can't it wait till morning? My pedes are aching from all the action with the 'Cons today!"
"Well then, if your pedes are sore, by all means, just pop back tomorrow," came the overly-sarcastic retort.
"Really?" Hope glimmered in the rookie's optics.
"Of course not, you little glitchspawn! Will a Decepticon virus or tracking beacon just 'wait till morning'? If they have implanted something within you, the sooner I find and remove it, the better for us all. Now get over here!"
"Nngh," was the only answer Smokescreen was able to form as he trooped dejectedly into Ratchet's lair, fully anticipating an interrogation. At least the Hatchet had so far had enough patience not to throw one of his famous wrenches at his helm yet.
"Good, good, your energon levels are stable, considering the fact that you haven't had the opportunity to refuel since yesterday, and my scans have failed to detect any malignant or intrusive software. And, no tracer beacon, incredibly. You've gotten off very lightly." Ratchet seemed pleasantly surprised with his discovery.
"What did I tell you? Those Decepticreeps couldn't touch me!" A small pause followed; "to be honest though, I don't think they were expecting my escape. From the way they were acting, I'd say they thought I was going to be with them for a while. It was only a mistake on Doc Knock's part that allowed me to grab the phase shifter and haul aft."
"Well then, praise the Allspark for small miracles." the medic's tone shifted from its ordinary caustic setting to one required by his field of specialisation - concern. "Are you alright?"
"Ratchet, has your processor fried? You've just scanned me and said there's nothing wrong!"
"No, no! Not like that! What I meant was; how do you feel about the experience?"
"Like I said, my pedes are killing me!" However Smokescreen's attempt at downplaying his capture sounded false.
The old medic regarded the younger 'Bot with a scrutinising gaze for a few seconds, as if trying to see any unsaid problems, during which the latter fidgeted, awkwardly. At last, apparently satisfied, Ratchet relented. "Fine. Go and recharge. But don't hesitate to come back if something's bothering you."
"Thanks Doc, will do."
And with that, Smokescreen pranced off, still containing far too much energy.
"Younglings. . ." Ratchet muttered.
The next morning dawned cool, bright, and incredibly noisy.
Far too soon for the medic's liking, the three human children had been brought to the base by their respective guardians, excited for at the prospect of a school-less, 'Bot-filled day lounging around playing video games.
That is, they were, until Ratchet blithely handed them each a mop and informed them that the TV was out of commission at present.
"Not cool. Botswana got hit by the rains, boys!" Miko grumbled.
Choosing to ignore her, Jack instead addressed his guardian. "So, Arcee, what happened to the base? It's not every day the sprinkler system springs a leak."
"Starscream. Turns out his comm. for help was little more than a ploy to raid the base. He managed to get away with all of our Omega Keys, thanks to the red energon he was hyped up on."
"Wait, what?!"
Incredulous that the humans weren't up to date with their latest crisis, Bulkhead, Arcee and Bumblebee proceeded to fill them in. Smokescreen joined the conversation with his usual rowdiness soon after, the three children hanging, captivated, onto every word of his greatly exaggerated tale from his stay aboard the Nemesis.
At one point, Bumblebee jumped in, clearly correcting his fellow Autobot - despite Jack and Miko not being able to understand him - which led to an argument (good-natured, obviously), and a playful fight.
Even the normally stoic Arcee joined the others in cheering as the two young Cybertronians tussled on the floor, both matched in size and strength, exerting all of their abundant energy into the game.
Eventually the commotion became too much for Ratchet, and the medic stormed out from his workstation, seething. "Can you lot never be quiet for more than ten minutes?! I am trying to work here! And you two," he pointed at the pair lying in a heap on the floor, "I cannot believe that you've sunk to wrestling like a pair of overgrown sparklings! Now behave!"
Once the medic had slouched back to his domain, grousing about "fraggin' younglings", Bulkhead leaned down to console the two downcast 'Bots. "Don't worry, Ratch' will have forgotten all about this by tomorrow. It's just in his nature to be like that."
"So, who wants to watch a movie?" Miko piped up after a second of silence.
"We can't, remember? The TV shorted out," Raf replied quietly.
"Then let's go buy another one! I'm sure Fowler has some cash lying around here."
"Even if he did, I highly doubt that he would allow you, Miko, of all people, to buy a replacement." Arcee said, not unkindly.
"Great. Soggy sofas, no tech, and one grouchy Doc 'Bot. Just how I wanted to spend my Saturday." The girl in question flopped down onto one of the aforementioned sofas and sighed.
Bumblebee suddenly started beeping and gesticulating wildly.
"That's a great idea 'Bee!" his human partner said excitedly, before translating for the other kids. "He thinks we should design how the base would look if Agent Fowler and Ratchet weren't around to control everything."
"You know, that might not actually be a bad way to pass the time," Arcee conceded.
"Wicked! I would have a giant plasma TV, surround-sound stereo system, soda machine. . ." the Japanese girl launched straight into her vision for a new base, the others quickly joining in.
No-one noticed however, that Smokescreen was fairly subdued – he chipped in ideas every so often, but lacked his usual rambunctious personality. A troubled look graced his faceplates when he thought he was unobserved, and his gaze kept moving to the medic working away silently at a computer terminal.
Finally, he seemed to come to a decision. Stepping lightly over to the older 'Bot, the rookie looked almost nervous as he approached. "Hey, Ratch'."
"What do you want this time, Smokescreen?" The reply to the greeting was curt, clearly suggesting that the inquirer was not welcome.
"I. . . um, I was wondering. . . never mind." Faltering, the young Autobot seemed to lose confidence.
"Then leave me in peace!" came the annoyed exclamation.
"Sure thing, sorry Doc." As he turned away, an impulsive streak of resolve flared deep within him, and he swung round to gaze at the medic intently.
"Ratchet, what's a Patch?"
Oooh, what will the Hatchet make of that?
The basis of this fanfic came when watching the last part of Prime's season two again. Smokescreen can be so childish and naïve at times, and his 'No, not again', line from Inside Job did make him appear much more innocent and confused as to what was happening. Also, later in Regeneration he seemed to spit out the word 'Patch', which makes me wonder if something deeper was at work. The children were absent from most of the Omega Key episodes as well, only to pop back up in Regeneration completely clued in to the situation.
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TheInkEngraver