So… haven't done a Transformers story in a long while, despite my profile name taking inspiration from the franchise.

Well, I've grown and evolved in my writing and taste for shows since I started back here in 2014.

Within the Transformers fandom, I've shifted my allegiances to different incarnations several times. But now, if you've seen my profile for the last few years, I've settled on the best incarnation of all.

Transformers Animated.

And now, here is my first story set in that universe.

Just a collection of oneshots and character pieces – because the most important part of a show are the main characters. And to me, Transformers Animated is the best show ever because the writing for the main characters is just masterfully done.

Hope you enjoy!


Transformers Animated: Journeys

Like a Son

Ratchet breathed deeply, inhaling as much cold air as he could to cool his intakes and calm his rapidly beating spark.

The old bot had to clear his processor of unwanted, distracting thoughts. Long-forgotten trauma that threatened to overwhelm his mind, and bring him to his knees.

He couldn't succumb to the nightmares. Not now.

The bot that haunted his dreams could have recovered already, could be lurking behind him right now to jump him when he was at his lowest, weakest point.

For his own sake – and for Optimus' – he couldn't afford to break down now.

Lockdown was cruel and merciless. Ratchet knew so from first-hand experience. The unpatched wound on his left arm throbbed again and he clutched at it, hissing.

He had been mercifully unconscious when Lockdown had ripped his EMP generator off of his arm, but when he had finally come to and laid sight upon his injury, the pain, so very real, had stabbed at his limb.

Back then, what prevented him from succumbing to hysteria from the torturous sensation was the need to protect Arcee. To get her and himself away from and out of Lockdown's clutches. He had done so, but at the cost of damaging Arcee's processor. Now, she was lying comatose and abandoned in the intensive care unit at Cybertron Central Infirmary – and had been for the last 4 million stellar cycles.

All because he had failed.

And now, Lockdown had returned to haunt him again, capturing his commanding officer to sell to the ruthless Decepticon Elite. If he succeeded, Ratchet knew that he and the others would never see Prime again.

"That won't happen, young bot," he silently promised, "I won't fail you like I failed Arcee."

Bracing himself for what he might find, Ratchet pressed a button on the panel that opened the door to the cargo hold of the Death's Head.

"Prime!" he gasped softly, his vocalizer barely forming words upon seeing the state of his leader.

Optimus was barely conscious, strapped painfully tight to an operating table by carbon fibre cords. The plating on his arms was cracked and jaggedly dented, no doubt the handiwork of Lockdown ripping his mods off his limbs. Mech fluid oozed from his wounds.

"That bounty hunting scum!" Ratchet inwardly cursed.

"R-Ratchet?" the voice of his commanding officer answered him. It was timid and shaky in its response – and very, very afraid.

"By the Allspark, he really is just a kid," Ratchet thought as his fists clenched with the instinctive desire to protect.

His spark ached at the sight of his leader, at his currently feeble and pathetic state. Prime was usually so stalwart – so mature and wise beyond his stellar cycles.

But right now Ratchet was reminded of how young Optimus really was.

The young captain had never endured endless millennia of war. He had never witnessed the countless deaths of comrades so close and so dear. He had never lived with the terrifying sensation that every day, every hour, might be your last.

And he had never felt what it was like to be a prisoner of war, tortured for no reason other than for your captors to see you suffer.

Until now.

Ratchet pressed the button on a nearby panel to release the restraining wires. Optimus shakily sat up, groaning in agony.

"Hold still. Don't try to talk," the doc-bot instructed the youngling, "I need to make some adjustments."

Before he could engage his diagnostics program, however, the ship's engines rumbled to life beneath them.

"Launch sequence is starting – we gotta move!" urged Ratchet.

Summoning extra reserves of strength through his servos, Ratchet helped Optimus to his feet. Still disoriented and weak from pain, the young captain could barely stand, stumbling uncontrollably when he tried to walk.

Ratchet let him lean on him, assisting him every step of the way.

Don't worry, kid. I'll get you out of here.

Then the cargo hold door whooshed open in front of them, Lockdown lunging out of the shadows to strike.


Ratchet was barely aware of the bounty hunter using his leader's grappling hook to launch him back. His processor was too stunned from his body being slammed unforgivingly against the wall of the hull.

Only when his optics caught sight of Lockdown kicking Prime aside, the young bot letting out a weak scream as he did so, did Ratchet find the energy to focus and stand up again. A rage unlike anything he had ever felt before flowed through his circuitry.

Now, despite what most people and bots might think of his surly personality, deep down Ratchet cared.

Even though Earth was no Cybertron, Ratchet had found interest in human relationships. Particularly the bonds between that of a family. He remembered Sari informing him about the topic, one time. Sari was the daughter of Professor Sumdac, because she was a young female. Young human males called their biological sires "father".

Fathers called their male offspring by the title of "son".

Cybertronians weren't brought online the same way that humans bore new life. There was no biological aspect, no love between that of a mature male and female. Only protoforms, and the Allspark, and for a long while, Vector Sigma.

The closest thing a sparkling would have in comparison to parental figures would be the teachers and mentors throughout their life cycle.

That was the way of life on Cybertron.

But despite his reluctance to accept Earth as his home, Ratchet was fond of at least one aspect of its culture. The love between child and parent, and the parent's duty to protect their child no matter the cost.

"Get away from him, you fragging slagheap!" Ratchet roared as he got up, before charging at Lockdown once more.


"It's not that I don't want to remember it. I have to remember… for those who can't," Ratchet explained. Despite finally finding closure from Lockdown's defeat, the memories were still too painful to deal with. If Optimus were any other bot, Ratchet would have shut down this conversation by now.

"Still, I don't suppose it hurts to talk about it sometimes," Prime offered, "With a trusted friend?"

Ratchet sighed deeply.

Prime had endured unspeakable torment at the hands of Lockdown, one of the Decepticons' worst.

He had more than earned the right to know. He deserved nothing more than the truth.

"So what do you wanna know?"

As the old doctor and the young captain lost themselves in a long night of discussion, Prime's words kept replaying at the back of Ratchet's processor.

A trusted friend.

Oh, Prime… you're so much more than that.

Ratchet wasn't ready to admit that yet – but one day he might, when the threat of the Decepticons was no more, and the chance of losing anymore bots dear to him was none.


1 Stellar Cycle = 1 Year

I cannot begin to describe how great it feels to be able to finally write about my favorite show!