Title: Grief
Content: Spoilers for DotM
The first thing he felt was a stunned disbelief, followed by shock. The bond slammed closed and Ratchet forced himself to focus on his surroundings. He was on his way to the NEST headquarters, had a little over a mile to go, and something terrible was happening. Ironhide wouldn't shut him out unless…
Ratchet accelerated hard, his sirens and lights turning on and clearing the way for him. He partitioned a portion of his central processor to focus on driving and prodded the bond.
Ironhide pushed love through the bond as Ratchet frantically reached for him, then /Stay away!/
Ratchet swerved to the side of the road and rolled to a stop, waiting. If Ironhide wanted him to stay away, there was a reason. He waited, his processor scrambling to figure out what was going on.
The bond collapsed, breaking like a rubber band, snapping into Ratchet's spark and searing his processors with the feedback from a broken loop and the pain of loss. His world went dark.
When he came back to himself, he prodded the bond. There was nothing but a gaping emptiness where Ironhide should be. His comm unit was squawking, men talking over each other and shouting, screaming, chaos broadcast over radio waves and Ratchet's spark thrummed with pain and grief. He forced all the feelings down, focusing on the mission. He pulled out into traffic, moving as quickly as he could without the emergency sirens and lights.
Ratchet drove to NEST, taking the chaos and destruction. The gate was manned, but opened to his broadcasted identity. There were wounded men everywhere, but no mechs in sight. He pinged them and found Bumblebee near the vault, which was standing open and bare inside.
Bumblebee keened, and Ratchet started shaking his head in disbelief. Bee grasped his hand and took him back to the courtyard where a rusty smear marred the concrete. Ratchet scanned it, finally recognizing the few bits and pieces that had escaped the acid rust. He fell to his knees next to the remains of Ironhide, poking at the tires of his Earth disguise, unable to comprehend the complete devastation of the mech he loved.
"What…" Ratchet's vocalizer glitched, a screech of noise coming out as the multiple questions he had refused to be asked at the same time, the error messages angrily dismissed. He didn't have time for his body to fail him, he needed to comprehend what had happened, why this shift in his world had occurred.
::Sentinel…Sentinel Prime shot him, Ratchet, in the back and it ate him!:: Bumblebee's grief was layered through the transmission.
Ratchet nodded, then shook his head. "Sentinel? But Sentinel wouldn't do that." He couldn't understand. Their long lost Prime, the hope of their race, doing something that destroyed life? Ratchet couldn't understand, couldn't process any event that could have led to this scenario.
Bee offered him a data chord, his expressive face downcast. Ratchet took it, his fingers shaking and clumsy, plugging it in and receiving the data packet from Bee. His optics began to flicker as Bee showed him the data feed from his optics.
It showed the acid rust eating through Ironhide, then Sentinel's second shot and his disdainful 'I hereby dismiss you from your duty' before the final shot that accelerated the entire process of destroying Ironhide. Bumblebee had been turned away and had not seen the first shot, only the result.
Then Sam screaming 'Bee!' and the chaos as Bumblebee dodged the shot fired at him before Sentinel jumped the wall and transformed, heading down the ramp into the belly of the NEST headquarters.
Ratchet handed the data cable back and Bumblebee spooled it away before resting his hand on Ratchet's shoulder.
A larger hand fell on his other shoulder, and Ratchet looked up and back into the grief-filled optics of his Prime. Optimus stared down at the smear, his hand tightening on Ratchet's shoulder.
The comm interrupted their mutual grief and reverie. ::Sentinel! He's at the Lincoln Memorial! And…so is Megatron!::
Ratchet forced himself up, forced himself to follow Optimus, forced himself to keep functioning.
But his spark mourned.
~End