The Golden Hour

by Guardinthena

One of Wheeljack's inventions backfires, only this time a piece of shrapnel pierces his spark in the explosion. New Autobot femme Phage is alone and trapped in the Research Labs with him, trying to save his life while getting directions from Ratchet.

The Golden Hour

Genre: drama

Bio: Once again one of Wheeljack's inventions backfires, only this time a piece of shrapnel from his invention pierces his spark chamber in the explosion. New Autobot femme Phage, formally human, is alone with the dieing Wheeljack as she tries to save his life while Ratchet gives her instructions through their com.links, the door to the Lab having been blocked off in the blast.

Authors Note: I do not own the Transformers© yada, yada, yada, no money on this, blah, blah, blah, the character Phage is mine, etc. etc. etc., if you wanna use her go ahead and ask. I don't bite. So on and so forth…

This fanfic is rated PG-13 for sexual suggestions, crude language, and mention of alcoholic beverages.

---

The Golden Hour

"Hey Wheeljack? You in here?"

Phage stepped through the sliding door that separated the golden corridor outside from the equally bright and golden lab on the other side. As she stepped forward onto the catwalk that made up the upper level of the Research Labs, she could already hear Wheeljack reply coming back to her uncertain question. "Down here, Phage! Boy you're just in time! I've just completed my latest invention! Wheeljack's Energy Shield Recycler!"

The emerald green, gunmetal grey and white-faced femme stepped forward up to the railing and put her elbows against it, leaning over to get a glimpse of the level below. On the second level she found Wheeljack turned and staring up at her, his blue optics excited about his latest achievement. His said device, a womping machine standing as high as his knee, sat silently and rather forebodingly behind him. She offered Wheeljack a soft smile as she tilted her head to one side and called back down, all the while eyeing his new invention suspiciously, as if she expected it to blow up on the instant. "Ya, I already know about it 'Jack. I'm your assistant remember?"

"Of course I remember! But I thought you might have forgotten since you're also Ratchet's assistant-in-training, Huffer's assistant, Ironhide's rook…"

"Alright, alright!" Phage chirped out, straightening and waving her hands by her face as if to ward off his words. "I get your point! I'm the rookie of the base! What d'ya want?"

Wheeljack chuckled to himself and said merrily, "I was wondering if you could do what assistant's in mad-science do and come down here and help me test this baby out! I need to see if it actually absorbs the laser blasts and transforms them into energon cubes." Wheeljack explained as he turned his back to her and went about making the final adjustments on his machine. With each word he spoke the blinkers on the side of his head flashed an eager bright blue, his zeal for the completion of his latest invention evident.

Phage moved away from the railing and slowly started to make for the metal stairway leading down to the second floor, though her usual swift pace was slow and rather unhurried. To say that she was excited for the completion of this invention was an understatement. Deep down she had a really bad feeling, and it was that gut instinct, along with a sudden, sharp voice inside her head that had told her, quite blankly at the party, this:

'GO FIND WHEELJACK!'

She was rather amazed that she had heard it over the racket back in the Rec Room despite all the heavy music and the animated voices of the Autobots having a great time.

And now here she was, listening to her gut instinct and its voice, something that if she mentioned to anyone else they would probably give her a funny look for.

She took her first step onto the stairs, her hand gliding to the railing. "You do know that there's a party going on, right?" Her voice didn't sound like her own. It sounded distant too her, off-key, but Wheeljack didn't seem to notice anything. Perhaps it was just her.

He waved his hand absently at her as he adjusted a few dials. "Of course I know there's a party. I just couldn't help being down there when I was so close to finishing this thing up here! And now that I have I'll really have something to party about!"

A deep gnawing sensation twisted her gut and Phage stepped more lively down the stairs. Her heart - or rather her spark now she supposed, thumped desperately in its laser core as she watched Wheeljack tinkering with his machine. She had come to investigate what had become of the residential mad scientist when she realized that he wasn't at the party - well that and she was compelled too by her gut instinct. That was something that was starting to make itself present since she had become an Autobot. The first time was with Optimus and the dreams she kept on having about his death, witch had damn well near had come to pass if it hadn't been for her intervention, and now this…

Not that this 'Voice' and the dreams and gut instincts were new to her. She had had many over the years as a human beginning when she was roughly fourteen or so, maybe thirteen. And all of them were about death. But they had never been so intense, so forceful since she had had her brush with death and become one of them.

"Come on 'Jack." She pleaded as she paused halfway down the stairs. She used the shorten version of his name, something that she did with anyone's name that she could shorten, to show for her friendship with him and her genuine honesty and want of the matter. That and she simply didn't want to waste the breath to say their full name unless she was mad at them or felt like it when she could use a shorter version and still get there attention. And it was fun. "Before I left Sideswipe had convinced Prowl to get into a drinking contest with Trailbreaker."

"He did?!" The blinkers on the side of Wheeljack's head alighted with a bright, surprised glow of blue as he spoke, his voice also taking on his note of amazement and surprise. He momentarily turned away from his device to give Phage a curious, disbelieving look. "Are you serious?"

Phage chuckled a bit, smiling as she chirped, "Yeah."

Wheeljack shook his head and returned back to his work. "Dear Primus! That 'bots got a tongue of silver. I'm amazed that it hasn't gotten him into more trouble than it has yet."

"Oh, it will." Phage noted wisely as she stepped lightly down the stairs, and too her comment Wheeljack gave her a curious look.

"What'd ya mean?"

"I mean that if he tries flirting with me one more time I'll consider popping him one."

Wheeljack made an indistinguishable noise to that and shook his head. "Eeesh. I thought femmes liked getting a lot of attention. What's the matter; mech's aren't your type?"

"Harrharr. Very funny ding-bat. No, my problem isn't really Sideswipe it's just that, well," she rolled her optics to the ceiling above as she said, quite honestly and truthfully, "I've never gotten so much attention in my life before. Especially when I used to go to school. Practically half the 'bots here talk and look at me with just more than a passing interest, and it's a bit creepy! Some of them might not say anything to me like 'Sides does, but that doesn't mean I don't see 'em looking or the look in their eyes. And don't even try and look innocent yourself, Wheeljack." At the accusation Wheeljack's optics got larger, and if he didn't have that facemask she could have sworn he would have blushed.

Well, if Transformers blushed that was. His facial expression, and the guilty look that followed, was enough to condemn him.

So he had been checking her out.

She knew he had been. Who hadn't? She was the first femme they'd seen since the war practically began. At least that's what they all kept saying, their excuse for it being that the Autobot femmes had become extinct.

That part she didn't quite get. How could fembots go extinct? Didn't they just have some schematic lying around somewhere where they could pick it back up and create some more? They obviously did if they had managed to construct her body.

"Ah…I'm sorry if I…um, offended you in any way…"

Phage shook her head and approached the kneeling Wheeljack. "Nah, there's no harm in it. Personally, and don't you dare breath a word of this to anyone, but I find the attention nice, like you said before. What girl doesn't like attention? The problem with me like I said is that I'm just REALLY not used to it. I wasn't exactly the 'hot girl in school' that all the guys were drooling over."

"Really?" Wheeljack said, his voice sounding genuinely surprised and the blinkers flashing an equally lighter, taken-aback blue color too. "Why's that? You're a great girl."

"Yeah, that's exactly why. 'Great girl' next to 'hot girl' doesn't mean much for a boy snapped up in the tides of puberty who can't think about anything else except the next hot girl he sees, rough-housing with his friends, and who he'd like to screw." Wheeljack 'hmmed' in agreement with her, whether out of noticing it with human culture or through Cybertronian culture she didn't know, but believed it to be the first. "My rules for my years in school were as follows: Rule one: books before boys. Rule two: If any boy tries to flirt remember that all they want is sex. Rule three: If any confusion, see rules one and two."

Wheeljack laughed at that but his mood was quickly swept away by Phage's own unamused one. "Aw, cheer up. You don't think all mech's are like that still do you? Spike wasn't like that when he was sixteen."

Phage just shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not saying all guys are. I'm just saying a lot of them were…and still are." Phage sighed and diverted her gaze from Wheeljack's curious ones and crossed her arms over her chest, more out of insecurity than anything else. She tried to push the subject from the forefront of her mind, temporarily trying to figure out how they had come to talking about her younger years and asked instead, a bit softly for her usual tone of voice, "So are you heading to the party 'Jack?"

"I will." Wheeljack said, letting the subject, and her sudden blank expression, go. He didn't want to pry into subjects that weren't his concerns. As the unspoken rule went with the 'bots, 'I'll talk when I want, but if it interferes with duty then I'll understand a pep talk is in order, but I don't have to like it.'

Phage stood back away from Wheeljack as she watched him from behind, and tried desperately to think of something to get him away from the place. Her nerves were screaming at her and she felt ill to her gut. She wanted to leave Wheeljack to his things and bolt for the door, rush back to the party and the relative safety of it there, or what safety could be gained in a room with a bunch of drunken Autobots that hadn't seen a femme in several millineia, but her feet were glued to the ground, that and her servos seemed to have rusted.

"Don't wanna miss Prowl's rumble with Trailbreaker do you?"

Wheeljack chuckled at that. "Now that I've got to see. Give me a quick second here and I'll have it ready…Done! Now stand back, this is gonna be good!" Wheeljack's hand pressed down on the main power button to activate the device and suddenly Phage's malfunctioning body hit critical. Everything seemed to stand perfectly still for a precious nanosecond in time. Her servos finally gave out on her and her knees buckled. Her whole body started downward in the fall, there was nothing she could do but lose control. Her vision turned static, only it wasn't static. There was images hidden in the fuzz, and though they were hard to make out, sometimes nearly impossible, she could still pick up on the jest of the message and it scared her to her core. As she fell she thought she saw but didn't see herself leave the Labs and then the invention explode into a bomb of shrapnel in the static. She could see a distorted Wheeljack screaming out in pain, the only clear way of knowing being from the blinkers on the side of his head. They had gone pure white with pain, white with the high-pitched scream of agony that ripped through him as the shrapnel from his invention blew him to pieces. His optics were wide open, bursting with hot blue light as his life trickled away. In the static she saw the whole of the Labs ripped apart. Smoke and fire burst out from everywhere and a distorted Wheeljack… Wheeljack… he lay as black as the dead on the ground, his grey optics staring up at nothing. There was hardly anything left of his body, at least she thought so. It was hard to discern anything from the static. Then… then there was Wheeljack kneeling down before his device, finger on the power button. The static gone.

Her senses were still awhirl, her CPU left in a state of jumbled confusion as she watched the scene before her. She was still falling, buckling beneath gravity. Time sped up. Her spark pulsated so hard in her laser core as she watched him that she screamed out in agony, though her scream of pain changed itself on her, and the cry that had originally been forming on her lips twisted itself into something else. Her body, her voice, were not her own. Though she couldn't figure out who was screaming it, she caught the words on the air nonetheless, heard the scream all around her but couldn't recognize her own voice. "WHEELJACK! DON'T!"

It was too late. Even as the words burst from her vocal unit Wheeljack's finger was already on the button, and he had pressed down upon it.

Time slowed down. Phage didn't even feel herself hit the ground; she couldn't even hear the scream anymore. All that she was still in possession of was her sight. But even that was weak. Things seemed…distorted, surreal. Slow. Wheeljack began to turn his head, and then his body, around to see what was wrong with her. She could see his blinkers beginning to flash a curious light blue. He only managed to get two flashes in – and thus two words – when the visions in her static became a reality.

The invention – Wheeljack's Energy Shield Recycler – exploded into a fiery ball of wrath.

Phage closed her optics and turned away. She heard the searing scream of the invention as it ripped itself to pieces, as the force of the explosion sent pieces of flying shrapnel whizzing by overhead. She numbly felt one as it just grazed her right cheek as it rocketed by. Unlike her visions in her static, she didn't see nor hear Wheeljack's screams of agony; instead she only could hear the ripping of metal and explosions.

The last she recalled was a hot rush of air licking at her new metallic body. The sudden rush of flames, mixed with her already disorientated mind, sent her into unconsciousness.

---

She was called back to the world of the living by a rather annoying constant beeping, that and a dull pounding and hissing. The loudest though was the beeping. Groggily she came to, blinking her optics until something resembling reality registered to her flickering vision. All she could see however was nothing more than an iron stairway behind her leading back up to a catwalk overhead. Somewhere a light was flickering on and off and causing strain upon her already stressed optics. To make matters worse she felt the beginnings of a headache coming on. It was concentrating itself at the back of her skull and slowly pounding away on her CPU. The first smell that her olfactory detected was smoke and smelted metal – not exactly an enticing combination. At least, she thought as she attempted to discover the source of the beeping, that burnt leather wasn't also on that list. She hated the smell of heated leather and wasn't in the mood to discover what burnt leather smelt like. Not today anyway.

Phage finally realized that the sharp, urgent beeping she kept hearing was actually coming from her own wrist com. Feeling a bit stupid for not realizing it earlier, she activated her com.link. "Yeah?" She hoarsely spat out into the com.link. Geez, she sounded as bad as she felt.

It's about damn time! What's going on? Are you alright Phage?

It was Ratchet. She'd recognize his voice anywhere, anytime. What she found odd was that her com.link monitor kept going on the fritz. The video card was bad or something, she wasn't a mechanic and didn't know but the screen was covered in static, and only on occasion would a distorted image of Ratchet twist itself into the black, grey, and white sparkles that constituted the makeup of the static. She tried to get past it nonetheless and grunted out, "If by 'alright' you exclude the headache knocking at the back of my skull and the general achiness all over my body, than yeah."

She couldn't be sure exactly, but she thought that Ratchet threw on a frown – or a smile. She couldn't be sure. No injuries requiring immediate medical attention?

"No."

Ratchet narrowed his concerned azure optics at her. Did you perform a systems check? In one of Wheeljack's explosions, its likely that –

"Wheeljack!" Phage gasped, cutting Ratchet off in mid-sentence. From just hearing his name she recalled the events that had transpired a moment ago, and how, before she blacked out, she had had one of her strange black-outs with the images in the static. A cold chill raced up and down her spin as her spark took on a heavy, foreboding weight. She instantly rolled over and pushed up off the floor, searching in the spot a moment ago that Wheeljack had been standing in. All that was left was a giant dark spot, splashes of hot, blue life blood spattered here and there, and a lot of hanging wires, sparking, and a few minor fires that could become serious if not attended too. Two support beams had come down and one still hung precariously overhead.

Her spark crashed even hardier within her laser core making it harder to breath. Phage launched herself onto her knees and then to her feet, looking around wildly for signs of either Wheeljack or a fire extinguisher. All the while she kept repeating, "Wheeljack! …Wheeljack!"

Phage, calm down! Ratchet ordered from his side of the link, worry evident in his voice. Phage had forgotten about her com.link though and stumbled across the rearranged Labs, heading for the area that she knew the fire extinguisher to be at. She had to put out the flames first before it caused more damage. While she did that, she reasoned, maybe she'd find Wheeljack.

"Wheeljack! 'Jack!"

Phage! Listen to me! You have to stop panicking. You're no good to anyone if you're panicking! Pause, calm down and reclaim your nerves.

Phage found the fire extinguisher, however the explosion had shattered the glass casing and lodged a piece of shrapnel straight through it. The retardant foam seeped out from the whole torn into its casing and continued to slowly collect in a massive collection on the floor. Realizing that that one would be of no use she started for the other one all the way on the other side of the Lab. As she did she was snapped back to Ratchet's presence when she heard him accuse her of panicking. A spark of pride struck her laser core and she clamped her mouth shut. She hadn't even realized that she had been repeating his name. She lifted up her arm as she made her way across the new metal jungle lab to the second fire extinguisher.

"I'm not panicking." She declared into her com.link. Her statement would have been comical if the situation wasn't so dire. Instead Ratchet chose to ignore the urge to tell her off, to tell her that she was and why, but instead tried to figure out what had happened.

What's going on? Can you see what type of condition Wheeljack is in?

Taking note in the change of subject she decided to fling with it and complied with answering his questions. "I don't know where Wheeljack is, but there's some of his lifeblood splattered around the explosion sight. I…ah, I'm trying to get to one of the fire extinguishers. There's some minor fires going on and the fire extinguisher on this side of the room is trashed."

Alright. Ratchet's voice said, brining an aura of calm to her racing nerves. That's good. Keep an optic out for Wheeljack–"

"Tch! Duh! Why wouldn't I?" Phage snapped bitterly into the com.link, angry that he would think she would do otherwise. "Why haven't you guys gotten down here yet?" She demanded through her jumbled up and pounding CPU. She was having a hard time understanding why the Autobots hadn't rushed down here yet to the scene of the accident. How long had see been out? Were they coming just now?

Phage we are here. The door to the Labs has been jammed by a fallen beam or something. Ironhide and Sideswipe are trying to get in now.

Phage paused and turned around, glancing up towards the only entrance into the labs. She finally noted the large iron beam that had served as a pillar for the catwalk and now was decorating the door at an angle. She could still hear the pounding and hissing coming from behind it, only now she understood why.

"Ooooh…" she said a bit foolishly. "That's what that was." She turned back around, casting one last glance back behind her at the door before she headed further back into the Lab, pushing pass broken and sparking wires – giving herself tiny jolts in the process as she progressed farther back.

Are you alright Phage? Ratchet quizzed from the com.line. Are you feeling light headed? Slight confusion? Pressure anywhere in your cranial?

Phage found the fire extinguisher and it was in perfect condition, except the glass was fractured in a spider web fashion but not broken. She broke the glass, since the case was locked, and took the fire extinguisher within. "I already told you my head hurts. I think I hit it when I fell."

She wasn't looking at her com.link, not that she could have seen Ratchet's worried face anyway what with the static obscuring it. How far down did you fall? What are your symptoms?

"Why?" The femme inquired as she started back across the Lab, blasting the retardant foam on any electrical fire she found along the way. Her head still hurt, and walking felt a little funny. A bit too light and easy. She felt springy.

That was weird.

She stumbled more than once on her way back across the Research Lab, once she had to grip some hanging wires to prevent herself from falling.

I'm trying to figure out if you have a concussion. When you hit your head you could have dislodged or even dented your cranium. So what –

As she grabbed the cut, sparking wires it zapped her and she cried out in shock.

Phage?! Phage!... Ratchet cried through the link, but was cut off instantly. Phage, like her com.link, was out once again.

---

Ratchet heard the electrical burst go off and the next thing he knew his com.link was down. There was a short period of static as he cried into the line, though he knew it was useless. "Phage! Answer me!... Phage!!"

The static on his com.line broke off and was replaced by a white screen. Words written in black popped up onto the screen, stating: Requested line has been terminated. Com.link of Autobot Phage is off-line.

"Slag it!" Ratchet swore as he punched his red fist into the table then quickly followed up by thumping his head on it. Already he could feel his own headache coming on as his stress – and anxiety – rose. First Wheeljack, now Phage. "Primus help me if they go off-line before I can get to them."

"Get to who? Have you gotten in touch with Phage or Wheeljack?"

He would have recognized that voice anywhere, even if he had tons of water spilt over his audio sensors. There was simply no mistaking the voice of –

"Optimus?" Ratchet sighed as he turned around, a bit surprised that he hadn't heard him come in, although that could be accounted for the short blast of racket coming from down the hall from Ironhide and Sideswipe as they worked on getting the door open. The noise was muffled as the sliding door snapped shut shortly after the great tall red, white, and blue Autobot stepped in. Ratchet turned back around in his seat where he sat at a table in the Labs lounge room.

"Yes." Ratchet said, answering Prime's question once he had confirmed what he had already known about the new occupant of the room. His voice came out like a pathetic whine of defeat. He dropped his head back down onto the table and slapped his hands over his head. He felt absolutely useless. The best acclaimed doctor on Cybertron and he couldn't even help Phage or Wheeljack. "I got in touch with Phage but she sounded out of it. I think she might have a concussion but she cut out before I could determine the truth." Ratchet drew quiet as his mind raced with all the things that could go wrong. Ironhide and Sideswipe had said it would take about an hour to drill through. If both Phage and Wheeljack were in serous condition they could go off-line before then, permanently. Or perhaps, if Phage did have a concussion and Wheeljack was simply knocked out or stunned as usual, he could repair them, that was if Phage's mind didn't shut down, leaving her body an empty shell. Then there was the chance…

The white and red medic let out an anguished moan. He was going to severely hurt Wheeljack if he wasn't already. Not just for pulling this stunt, but for doing on a party night. Didn't he realize how hard it was to schedule one?

Optimus dropped his hefty hand onto Ratchet's shoulder to draw him out of his revere. He hated to see Ratchet like this when the pressures of his job got to him. He'd seen it happen many times over the years, mainly when there was simply so many to be fixed, so much that needed repairing, and when they were low on resources, he'd crack. He couldn't let that happen now, he couldn't let his friend slip into a dark and useless state, not when he'd need to be in top condition to repair Phage and Wheeljack once they got them out of there.

"Ratchet, you must keep your hopes up. Wheeljack's been through this so many times before, he's probably just fine...unless of course it was one of his newer missiles that exploded." Optimus mused, going into the last part in softer and more contemplative tones. He had been trying to be funny but Ratchet thought he was being serious.

Ratchet groaned at the prospect of having to repair that kind of damage and grumbled, "I'm going to kill him if he isn't already dead."

Optimus sighed and looked around the room. There was an extra chair at the table Ratchet had chosen to sit at so he took a seat across from his dear friend. "As the humans say, Ratchet," Optimus warned, drawing the medical mechanic's attention to him, "be careful what you wish for."

"Yeah, yeah." Ratchet grumbled, dropping his optics back to the table. "So I've heard. Sometimes I wish it were true in the case of the Decepticons."

"Their not our top priority at this moment. Our top priority is getting into that lab. Why don't you try your com.link again to get in touch with Phage? Her com.link might have just been on the fritz from the explosion."

No sooner had the words fled his mouth than Ratchet's com.line beeped its urgent tones. The Chief Medical Officer jumped, and then stared dumbfounded at his "Speak of the devil!" Ratchet gasped, having picked up the line during his stay on Earth. He quickly activated his com.link, praying to a god that he didn't think existed that it was Phage, and spoke into it, "Ratchet here."

Heeey! Guess who's back and feeling better! Boy Ratch, why didn't you tell me sooner a healthy dose of electricity could reboot my systems?

"Phage! What happened?" Ratchet asked, his hopes soaring at hearing her stronger voice.

---

Phage stared down into her com.link that had miraculously cleared up of static. She could see Ratchet's face clear as dawn and she felt better too. Her normal equilibrium was back and she felt good as if she'd just taken a nice, long recharge. She picked herself up off the floor, careful not to hit the hanging wires again, and picked up the fire extinguisher. "I just ran across some sparking wires is all. I'm feeling much better now."

What about your head? Have you found Wheeljack?

"My heads fine and Wheeljack's in pieces." Phage paused at that, staring blankly at Ratchet before she shook her head, touching it with two free fingers while the others held onto the fire extinguisher. She looked like it might have just hurt suddenly. The look of horror, then of worry played its way across Ratchet's face as she quickly said, covering up his 'what?!' that practically shrieked through over the lines. "Sorry…" the femme said softly, looking completely apologetic and somewhat befuddled, "I mean I still haven't seen hide nor tail of 'Jack – except of course for the blood. Don't know where I got the pieces part. Sorry."

From the other end she saw Ratchet look up out of view, obviously too somebody else in the room. He quickly looked back down to her and said, his metallic ridges knitting together in worry, How's your head?

"Better than what it once was. Why do you keep asking me that?"

Because I think you might have a concussion. Are you feeling lightheaded? Disoriented?

"A concussion?" Phage echoed as she started back across the Lab, blasting the retardant foam on any electrical fire she found along the way. "Ptfh! I don't think so. I must be a bit freaked out from the explosion is all. Trust me Ratchet, a little bump like I took when I was blown back isn't going to give me one."

Phage, you're not Superwoman. Minor accidents occur –

Getting flustered with the accusations that she didn't know how to diagnose her own body, Phage lifted her wrist, glared at Ratchet and said, cutting him off in mid-sentence, "Ratchet, I'm FINE. A little knock from the blast like that isn't going to hurt me. For instance when I was a human I was attending tennis practice right, there was the baseball team practicing their pitches right next to me. Well, I was just practicing my hitting and then suddenly –Wham! – knocked me right in the side of my head. And I was fine. I think the skin bruised for a week or so, but I was fine. Do you know how hard they throw those things? And it was a hard ball!"

There was a silence from Ratchet's end. The look on his face screamed that he was far from convinced. "What?" She said.

If at all possible, Ratchet's optics were narrowed at her even further. You said that you fell, not that you were blown back by the explosion.

Phage stared at him quizzically, trying to remember but couldn't. All she remembered was Wheeljack wanting to test out his invention, and then him blowing up into pieces. No, wait! That wasn't right was it? No…she screamed didn't she, as she was blown back? Or was that Wheeljack screaming and blown back?

No, wait…

…her knees gave out. She had fallen. She wasn't blown back.

"I…I fell." Phage stammered out, clearly uncertain of her decision and expressed it with a last minute, "I think."

Ratchet eyed her quizzically but decided that arguing over this wasn't going to help anyone. For safety's sake, Phage, stay awake. If you get tired just fight it off, in case you do have one alright?

"Yeah." She toned, not at all looking pleased with the advice.

I mean it. Doctor's orders.

"Yeah, okay. Just…Wheeljack?"

She caught sight of Wheeljack's foot sticking out from around the corner of the mangled stairway. Spirits lifting and her spark pulsating painfully in her breastplate, she rushed over to his side, jumping nimbly over wreckage and climbing on top of it and ducking it when necessary with the agility of an experienced veteran that had lived their whole life in the wild jungles of the world.

Not that she had. But her skill could have passed her off at Tarzan's level.

"Wheeljack!" She cried out more excitedly, but her enthusiasm ceased as quickly as it began, for though she reached his side in record time it wasn't fast enough, and never would be to undo the damage she now saw. Wheeljack laid sprawled out on the floor in a gathering pool of his own vibrant lifeblood that glowed idly, sickly, in the dim flickering light of the Labs. His left arm was off and the armor guarding his upper legs and his stomach was ripped off, exposing wires, muscle cables, and other complex delicate circuitry that would make any sci-fi movie robots pale in comparison – Star Wars included. The armor that had been blown away, atomized, smelted into oblivion, whatever term one preferred, had also indiscriminatingly taken with it to the abyss his codpiece and the armor guarding his waist. Like his stomach and legs, wires, cables, hoses, and other…equipment was left exposed, though unlike his legs and stomach his waist didn't seem to hold as much damage, probably due to the way he had been kneeling before the device, not that it had been good enough to prevent the resulting explosion from taking away his cover. Phage's optics went a bit wide as they fell down there, and she felt her cheeks go cold and clammy as if a sweat had taken her. She had well, known from her lessons with Ratchet but had never actually thought she'd ever see one…

She hastily moved her optics further down his legs, examining the rest of the damage and feeling rather uncomfortable with staring at her friend and mentor's well-off, leather black bound goods.

Liquid spilt out from him at the exposed wounds at alarming rates to pool beneath him, adding to the growing mess beneath his immobile body. His right knee looked broken and that leg was bent at a wrong angle. Three of his fingers were missing on his remaining hand and his face…his poor face. She'd never known if the wrapping-design mask that Wheeljack had had just been part of his design or a battle mask like Bumblebee often put on for battle, or some of the others. She found out now, rather disturbingly, that it was part of his design. Part of it had been blown away, revealing well, what she could only say was more circuitry. She didn't even know if she could constitute it as the workings of any sort of mouth or not. But the kicker, the real knocker that nearly stopped her spark in that second, was the long piece of melted shrapnel that had penetrated his chest plate and sunk into the very center of his body. Whether Transformer or human it didn't matter, the heart of either of the two races, the spark, laser core, whatever you wished to call it, was always in the center of the chest.

Phage felt her whole face go hot, her breathing quicken, her spark begin to pound at a thousand miles a second. And yet, despite it all, she somehow maintained a cool head.

"Oh my God!" The green femme uttered in silent horror, her optics wide as they rested upon Wheeljack's crippled body.

What is it? What's wrong? Came Ratchet's worried tone from the other end.

Phage stepped forward in her hasty fashion and collapsed down beside the scientist, heedless of the blood that she knelt in. Her hands hovered over him, her fingers itching to help him but uncertain of where to begin. Her mind was frantically racing, her optics spanning the length of his body and then back again, trying to figure out how to go about helping him and at the same time trying to figure out if he was still alive.

'He's alive! He's alive!' Her mind gasped at her as she noted the color of his armor. If she had learned anything during her apprenticeship with Ratchet it was that a Transformer was dead only when their armor had faded in color to a deathly grey. She still didn't understand why, but that's how it just worked. And his armor coloring was still present, if a bit blackened and banged up by the explosion.

"I found Wheeljack!" Phage said desperately into the com.link, lifting it up to her to see Ratchet's concerned face. She bit her bottom lip as she examined his body again, trying to figure out what to do. She was so totally lost. This was beyond anything that Ratchet had taught her as of yet. "Ratchet, I…he's really hurt!"

Phage, I need you to remain calm. We can't help Wheeljack if the only one in the room is panicking.

"I'm NOT panicking!" Phage snapped into the line, her sapphire optics flashing heatedly at the small screen. She watched with some satisfaction as Ratchet flinched on the other end. "Why do you keep thinking I panic all the time? I don't! I don't DO panic! I just don't know what to do! There's a difference! There's a piece of shrapnel that's pierced his chest! I-I don't know if it hit his spark chamber or not. He's still alive though, at least his coloring hasn't dulled like you said it would if he was dead."

Ratchet went silent at this, his mind swirling as he tried to imagine the complications of this situation. Here he was, the best medic on Cybertron, and unable to do anything to help Wheeljack. He knew what he had to do in such an instance, but he wasn't in there. Phage was. His apprentice. And she hardly knew anything about repairing minor injuries, and defiantly nothing of such magnitude. He couldn't understand what cruel fate had thought to push her into this situation. It wasn't fair. Not fair at all.

But then life wasn't fair was it?

The CMO took a deep breath on the other end, trying to remain in control of his own frantic emotions. He had a plan, and he hated himself for having to propose it, but there was nothing else that could be done. Every second counted against them. Phage, show me the damage.

"How?"

Use your com.link, show me the damage.

"Oh. Duh." Phage muttered to no one unparticular and continued to berate herself mentally for her ignorance. 'I'm such an idiot. Blubbering, fumbling idiot!' She slowly ran her com.link over Wheeljack's body, giving Ratchet a good, long look at it. She took a deep breath as she glanced him over long and hard once again, her mind whirling with ideas. She needed to seal off the leaking cables with a welder, if she could find one. Then she needed to move on to the more sever leaking wounds. The shrapnel piece though…she breathed in again, releasing it slowly as she tried to get rid of some of the tension building up inside of her. She didn't know how she was going to deal with that.

Alright Phage. She turned her com.link back over and faced it back to her. Ratchet looked unhappy, but then again how else was he going to look? Cheerful? He sighed and closed his optics for a moment, rubbing them between his thumb and pointer finger, then slowly looked back up at her. Phage, we can't wait for Ironhide and Sideswipe to break through. Wheeljack needs immediate medical attention. …So, I need you to be my hands for me.

One of Phage's metallic eyebrows lifted up, something that she did quite a lot actually. "You want me to fix him?" She replied incredulously.

Ratchet nodded. Yes. I need you to be my hands as I walk you through what to do, okay? Do you think you can do that?

Phage understood the multiple meanings of that question. Was she emotionally ready to accept the burden that, if she messed up in any way during his instructions and killed Wheeljack, would she be ready to accept that? Was she ready, her will firm and her hands, hopefully, not so shaky, as that she wouldn't snap and damage him any further? Was she ready that, despite all she could do, he would still die. Was she ready…

Was she ready?

Was she capable?

That was really what the question was.

Was she capable of such a burden?

She bit her lip then gave up on that and took a deep breath and closed her optics momentarily, her gaze roaming to the ceiling above and then back down to Ratchet's resolute stare. When she spoke she was calm and collected, though her face portrayed her healthy dose of anxiousness. "Yes. Yes I can. For Wheeljack's sake. What do I have to do?"

Ratchet smiled at her. Good. If at any point you need to stop go ahead. I understand this is a lot for a first timer such as yourself. I'd understand also if you can't go on further at some point, if your nerves get to you…

"I won't Ratchet." Phage said, and he picked up on her grim determination in those three simple words. He nodded silently and said, a bit mournfully, though proud of her, Alright, here's what you do first. You need an arc welder and other basic equipment. Do you have any on you?

"No." Phage said rather dejectedly.

Then look around the Labs. There's bound to be one in there. I know Wheeljack keeps a First Aid in there somewhere. And be quick! Every second we dawdle Wheeljack pays the price!

"I know! I know!" Phage grumbled as she jumped to her feet and went digging through the mess of Medbay looking for the First Aid. She knew exactly where it was, or where it should be. The first day she had been assigned as Wheeljack's apprentice among others – mainly to discover where she was best suited – he had shown her the 'grand tour' of the Labs, and where the emergency supplies were in case of any well, accidents. Such as now.

She hurried across the mess of the Labs as if it were like nothing more than an obstacle course, taking it with speed and agility that was fueled by her need to act. The First Aid was supposed to be strapped away underneath the fire extingusiher, which is exactly where she found the little white box as she delved into the retardant foam that had collected under the broken fire extinguisher, her hands frantically searching the wall for the box. She found it and fumbled with the latches until she had them off, then tore the box out from the foam and jumped from it, not simply for the fact that she needed to get back to Wheeljack with all haste, but because she also knew, as Ironhide had explained to her, that the foam could permanently damage her circuitry if exposed for too long.

First Aid kit in hand, she made her way back across the blackened jungle of sparking wires, scrap piles, upturned flooring towards the center of the explosion, and over one of the fallen support beams.

She arrived back at Wheeljack's side through a dive, skidding on her knees against the floor and shooting up sparks from the contact. She left a dark green stain on the floor from it but could hardly care less. She wasn't one of those girls who fussed and pampered over how she looked.

Dropping the First Aid kit down near the critical Autobot she flipped it open and lifted her wrist back up to her so she could say, trying to put a bit of cheerfulness into the grim situation as she chirped out, "Mission accomplished, Doc! What next?"

Ratchet tried to smile for her, to keep the reality of the situation from closing its cold grasp on her and making her more anxious than she already was. Excellent work cadet! Alright, first I need you to tell me what's left in the box and then we'll get started.

Phage glanced into the opened container and listed off the assortment of equipment within, her hand gliding over each before grabbing the arc welder. "Laser scalpel, arc welder, an electrical sensor, extra power cells for the laser scalpel and arc welder, and some silicon gauze and Transformer sized flexi-bandages that you people are so fond of." Phage paused a second on that and thought as she stared at the metallic bandages and soft, metallic gauze. 'How come the T.V. series never showed any of that? I only remember seeing Ratchet applying something like the flexi-bandages once in the original comic books, and then there was that one time when he had been ordered by Prime to tie off the surrender flag to his arm to stop it from leaking… I guess they thought it just would be too gory or something if it was too close to real life…''

…There flexi-casings Phage, not flexi-bandages, though I suppose the principles the same.

"Yeah, yeah. Same thing in my book." Phage said back, coming out of her own thoughts and glancing down at her have to do. Take the electrical sensor and set it up, that way you have a constant vigil over his life pulse.

"Kay." Phage said, taking the device and setting it up as she had been trained to do and flipped the switch. The soft, green laser flashed out and hit Wheeljack squarely in the chest and the protruding piece of shrapnel. A moment later she heard the careful, rhymantic beeping of his laser core. Though it came at a quicker pace than it should have, she missed that and was simply glad there was one at all. The noise in and of itself calmed her nerves greatly and she had to release a sigh of relief. 'Wonderful! Maybe it didn't actually pierce his chamber!'

Ratchet must have been thinking the same thing, that was if he did hear the reassuring beeping like she did. He did have a rather more relaxed smile on his face. Okay, next take the arc welder and start sealing off the hoses that are leaking the most and use the gauze and flexi-casings to wrap it off. …We'll deal with the piercing through his chest last. That is of course if Ironhide and Sideswipe haven't gotten the door down by then, or if the beeps don't become any rapider...

Phage nodded and ignited the laser scalpel. The bright light in the dim, flickering light of the Labs caught her eyes attention and she stared grimly at the small, pink blade for a moment. The realization hit her within that precious second in time that from that point forward the only thing standing between Wheeljack and Death was herself.

---

Somehow the Autobots that weren't needed at the door with Ironhide and Sideswipe on turn shift had ended up in the Labs lounge room with Optimus and Ratchet. Most of those Autobots had taken up a seat around the table that Ratchet and Optimus now occupied and either leaned against it, looking all miserable and forsaken, glancing now and again towards Ratchet as he gave out orders to Phage on the other end, or they had gathered in a ring around the medic, glancing over his shoulder to simply get a glance at Phage and Wheeljack. The latter of which Ratchet wasn't too pleased about.

Ratchet was being as calm and patient as he could with Phage, realizing that if he yelled at her or upset her even further than she was already stressed that something could go wrong. So he was patient, and repeated himself when she asked so she'd be sure of what she'd been told. Of course, such curtsey didn't extend to the Autobots that were hovering over him like vultures, peeping over his shoulder strut and trying to get a glimpse of his He'd just about lost it with them and turned his pent-up frustration on them.

Turning sharply, the CMO gave the four Autobots behind him, Trailbreaker, Jazz, Sunstreaker, and Cliffjumper, all a glare that could ignite energon. "Will you get the slagging hell away? I've enough to concentrate about without you four hovering over me constantly! Beat it! Get out of my Medbay!"

Sunstreaker glanced around the Labs lounge, which looked similar to the Rec Room only smaller, and said, "But this isn't your Medbay, Ratchet."

The sarcastic smart mouth quickly and easily ducked out of range of Ratchet's fist.

The Yellow Terror couldn't help but smirk to himself, even as Optimus gave the four of them reproving looks. Not looking to press his luck today, Sunstreaker, like Jazz, Trailbreaker, and Cliffjumper, scattered across the room and took a seat, or leaned against a wall.

Spike watched silently at Bumblebee's feet, since the Autobot was sitting on a couch of Transformer-proportions, as the four Autobots scattered from the medical officer. His father was up on the table with Ratchet and Optimus, waiting patiently for Ironhide and Sideswipe to break through the door. From what he understood it had been reinforced so that, in case of an explosion, it wouldn't damage anything else outside of the Labs. Well, he guessed they never considered that that precaution would actually help in imprisoning Wheeljack in his own lab.

He'd been sleeping soundly before hand until he'd been awoken by the klaxon alarms. Throwing on his clothes as quickly as he could he had rushed out to see what was going on, only to discover it wasn't the Decepticons attacking but another of Wheeljack's inventions had blown up. Now he waited, unable to get back to sleep for fear of Wheeljack and Phage's fate.

Spike glanced up towards Bumblebee and asked, "Do you think they're going to be okay, Bumblebee?"

The small yellow Autobot blinked his optics and glanced down at Spike from Ratchet. The rather disturbed look on his face didn't go well with what he said. "Oh, um… yeah Spike. Sure."

Spike knew a lie when he heard it, and Bumblebee wasn't exactly good at lying to begin with. Though he knew that Bumblebee had been trying to ease his conscious he was actually only further thrown into a depression from it.

---

Phage swiped her hand over her forehead for a brief moment, smearing a splash of Wheeljack's vibrant blue lifeblood there as she did, and released a rather pint-up sigh of anxiousness. She never knew somebody could have so much blood in their body, or how her hands had become so soaked with it so quickly.

Or had it been an eternity?

Well, maybe not an eternity, though it felt like one. By now it should have been an hour. What was taking Sideswipe and Ironhide so damn long?

She didn't know and couldn't recall the proper time that had elapsed. Time seemed… indifferent to her, but at the same time everything to her. It was indifferent in the way that she couldn't keep track of it, that her body and mind didn't want to keep track of it, but at the same time she needed to know. She had to know. Every minute that went by was one minute less that Wheeljack could have, or that she could use to spare his life. One more minute meant to her one more minute that Ironhide and Sideswipe had to get through.

One more minute meant everything in the world.

She never knew until then how priceless a minute could be…

"Done Ratchet. What next?"

Let me see. Phage flipped over her arm, giving Ratchet a good view of Wheeljack. She had either closed off or reconnected vital hoses, cables, and wires where Ratchet had informed her too, demanding a view of her work every two seconds. The going had been excruciating slow and nerve-wracking. She vaguely recalled several points where Ratchet had asked if she needed a break, having asked simply because, according to him, she had been sighing a lot. She hadn't noticed, but she took his word for it. She had promptly denied his requests though, explaining it was just her way of 'getting rid of some jitters.' Ratchet had looked at her strangely, but she had simply shook her left hand to free it up of the shakes she thought she was suffering from, and took a deep, quiet sigh to clear up the growing tension in her chest for a second and proceeded with her work.

She had fixed and bandaged his remaining hand and his missing arm, as well as had just finished rerouting, sealing, and covering the damage that had been done to his mid-section. Not to mention had respectfully laid some gauze over his waist to cover that up. Last thing she needed was to be distracted by the real thing and not compare it too some imitation that she'd seen on some Greek and Roman statues…

Through what seemed like five hours to her they hadn't even touched on his busted knee, leg, or his scarred head….

Or his chest.

Her optics kept glancing back to it and the electrical sensor, dreading and fearing the fateful heightened beeping that would send her spark pulsating at a thousand miles a minute with his own.

Your doing well so far, Phage. Very well. I think we'll move to his leg now. Let me see it again.

"But what about the shrapnel?" Phage inquired as she still flipped her com.link over to show Ratchet the leg. Her optics kept glancing to it, fearing what could be and wanting it fixed and avoided at all costs.

Your not ready for such a task. Was Ratchet's reply.

"But…" Phage said softly but didn't follow through with the rest of her words. Instead it faded off into oblivion. Her vision danced for a second, mingling in with the folds of static and wisps of reality. She blinked then stretched her head until she worked out the kinks, and didn't think another thing about it.

Ratchet was saying something.

Don't worry about it, Phage. Ironhide and Sideswipe have almost broken through, give or take another ten minutes. If Wheeljack's spark hasn't faded now then the shrapnel hasn't pierced it.

Phage's optics lit up at that. "That's good to hear. Geez, I thought I'd been longer than that though."

Your almost out of hell, Phage. I promise.

Ratchet's face looked as relieved and hopeful as she herself felt. She couldn't help but to smile back at his genuine grin, his kind, sympathetic cerulean optics, she was almost out… Almost out of hell…

That's when her vision went on the fritz again and she gasped, grasping her head. In the distance she could just make out Ratchet's voice, growing ever farther, ever more quieter, as he asked rather concernedly, "Phage? Phage what's wrong? Phage!...

Phage...!

Phage…!"

The static had returned, and in full fury. Images leaped out of it from the black, grey, and white dots as if leaping from a raging black fire, attacking her in fierce succession. From the images that she grasped she could make out a hanging beam falling, and then Wheeljack…Wheeljack! His spark was failing. He was dieing! Ratchet wasn't answering, the com.link was down. The door – Sideswipe and Ironhide! No, couldn't get through, not enough time! Wheeljack! How…a door! There! A door! Beyond the fallen debris! Down to the third level of the Labs! But, it was locked. Higher officials only…. Wheeljack!

"Wheeljack!... Wheeljack!"

Phage? Phage in the name of the slagging Pitts what is going on? Phage! Answer me!

The static cleared up as quickly as it had come. The images died away, but to actually hold and remember them was difficult in and of itself. She tried to recall it through the pounding in her head, but it was difficult.

Phage! Snapped out Ratchet's voice rather angrily from her What happened to Wheeljack? Phage! Answer me damn it!

A slice of reality slipped back to her and she found that it was her that was calling out Wheeljack's name again for the second time that hour. She ceased, grinding her teeth together in hopes of at least putting an end to that, if not stopping the pain in her head. It was pounding, excruciating, nothing like she'd ever felt before…well, she took that back. It was about as bad as when she first woke up after the explosion. 'Shit! Maybe Ratchet is right! Maybe the explosion did knock something loose!'

An ominous creek ceased any further fears of her own and took her mind off from her own personal pain. Wide-eyed, Phage snapped her attention over in the direction of the noise, which happened to be focused right above them. The second of the support beams, the one that hadn't fallen but hung rather gloomily from a series of wires and cables, was now starting to slip free. The wires began to snap, the sparking electricity shooting out from them having heated up and weakened their original strength. The heavy iron beam creaked overhead, one wire snapping, then another, and another…

Phage couldn't help but to watch as if in slow motion as the series of events, events that seemed rather familiar from the visions in her static, came true. She heard one last annoyed shout from Ratchet, demanding what was going on – she thought she also heard Prime's but wasn't sure – before the eerily quiet Labs burst into racket. The last cable holding up the iron beam snapped and the support beam tumbled down, breaking off completely from where it hung still with a horrific snapping of metal, and crashed down upon them. Phage gave out a cry of alarm and dove for Wheeljack, grabbing his good leg and yanking as hard as she could. Her instinctual plan to get him out of harms way however failed as her feet came out from under her on his lifeblood and sent her crashing to the floor right beside him. She grunted, but it was drowned out as the support beam slammed into something over head, then another, and then finally she sensed it more of than saw it as it clattered down right on top of them.

All she could do was cover her head and wait for the noise, the racket, to stop. But things only got worse.

Wheeljack's leg suddenly jerked violently and kicked her in the face. She snapped out a smart 'ow!' and started to glance behind her, too see what damage had been done, but that was when the electricity dancing across Wheeljack's body zapped her. She gave out a much louder, 'Ouch!' as her own body jerked in response, her systems jumping and rebooting to the sudden electrical burst. The window on her com.link burst and shattered across her face, causing her to scream out and cringe away. Thunder still blared back on her audios from off the Lab walls, reverberating tenfold the crashing of the support beam and the dancing electrical charge. Wheeljack's foot kicked her two more times before his body calmed down, and by then the echoing had died down to a low roar in her audios.

Thoroughly achy, bruised, and more than wondering if her face looked like someone had taken a crow bar too it, she groggily licked her lips, tasting her own lifeblood – or was it Wheeljack's? – and pulled a face. Only that hurt the left side of her face and she hissed at the pain in response to the sharp shooting pain that was sent directly to her brain.

Fearing her suspicions, the green femme ignored her own damage, not at all wanting to get a visual of what she might have looked like, and twisted around, trying to get a view of the damage of what had been done by the iron beam instead. What she found caused her spark to skip a pulsation in her core chamber.

The beam had been stopped in its rampant freefall by the mangled stairway but that didn't encourage its other end to end perpendicular to it. It had fallen downwards landing across Wheeljacks' chest and, unfortunately, onto the blade of shrapnel. It hadn't driven it all the way through, but enough further for – she supposed – it to pierce his spark chamber. Blue electricity danced up from out of the crack in his armor, zapping the melted metal fragment and sending it throughout the rest of his body on timed convulsions. Due to its slant, the beam hadn't landed and trapped her feet, though it had come pretty close. She stared for a precious second at the sight, marveling at what guardian angel she had and at the same time trying to figure out how to help Wheeljack now.

She pulled out her legs and flipped over, further dosing her body in his bright blue blood. Now that she thought about it as she practically glowed in the dark corner of the Lab from the luminescent liquid, she probably should have cleaned some of that up with the gauze. Oh well now.

She grabbed the iron beam and tried to heave it off, but it was no good. It simply weighed too much and she didn't have the strength that Brawn, Optimus, Grimlock, or some of the other tougher, taller, Autobots did.

Great.

She leaned back and examined the situation once more, her mind running frantically for solutions to the problem. The electrical convulsions continued to wrack Wheeljack's body and she knew what that meant. His spark chamber had been pierced and chances were he was going to end up dead shortly.

Crap. Hell. Shit. Shit. Shit!

No time. No bloody, fucking time!

"Ratchet!" She winced at the pain that shot through her face once again and hissed, her other hand flying up to touch the swelling wound that Wheeljack's unconscious corpse had done to her face. That only made it hurt worse though and she growled out against the pain, grinding her teeth together in the effort. When she pulled her hand away it was dripping in her own blood. At least, she thought it was. Despite the pain it caused she spoke again, tearing her optics off from her hand and down to her "Ratchet! I need–" She stopped instantly as she realized that her com.link, this time, was down for the count. The screen had burst and was to all extends and purposes of the word – destroyed.

'Great. Just wonderful.'

Fresh banging and pounding, the sounds of drilling, came to her again, this time – if possible- with more urgency and speed. Her optics wandered to the door on the first level but didn't stay there. They began to dance across the room, looking for something to help her. To help Wheeljack.

She didn't doubt that he had less than ten minutes. Maybe less than five.

Phage jumped to her feet and looked about fervently for something that could help her, anything, but her optics didn't catch sight of anything. Nothing but the debris of the Labs. She bit her lip as she felt her body's heat began to rise in fear and panic. Wheeljack was going to die, despite all that she had done so far.

He was going to die.

Her mind wandered back to the night that her father had died when she was a teenager and how all the events leading up to it had been weird and bizarre, signs that she looked for very carefully in life now whenever she'd get one of her 'fate feelings.' She remembered distantly how the night before her emotions, her most primitive instincts, were screaming out for her to go check on her father. Go check on him. And she hadn't. She hadn't and he died. She hadn't even said good night. No, that was a lie. She had, just not to his face. She had whispered it to herself in the middle of the hallway, far away from his blackened door leading into his and her mom's bedroom. She had whispered good night and that was the end of that.

Then she had woken up the next morning to her mother screaming and then the frantic phone call to the hospital. Not that they could do anything for him. He had already been dead for several hours. Sometime around midnight she guessed, but they could never confirm the exact hour of his demise.

Her spark ached and she heaved in heavy breaths of air as she watched Wheeljack's body convulse and twist now and again from the electrical charges. It wasn't natural. It wasn't right. She felt tears pricking at her optics but she refused to cry. She refused to say that last 'good night.'

"No…Wheeljack." Phage said softly, so softly she had hardly had need to move her mouth, and thus it didn't pain her. At least not on a physical level. Emotionally though… She bent down once more and tried heaving the iron beam off of him. Maybe if she could just get it off it would ease the pressure off of the shrapnel piece, then she could maybe cut around it and remove his chest piece, try and see if she couldn't get it out herself… "You can't die, Wheeljack… You can't! Don't leave us. Don't, please!" She mourned softly. The stinging behind her optics began to build up more as she gave it her all against the beam….

She got it to lift a bit but the strain was too much for her servos and, try as she could, she tried to gently set it back down the way it had been, terrified that if she just let it go it would drive the piece in even further. She managed so much.

She couldn't remember a time when she'd felt so hopeless, felt so unable to do anything for anyone. The stinging in her optics came more forceful and she choked on what was to be a sob. She took in a deep breath instead, racking her CPU for answers as she tried to calm the raging force that was building up inside of her.

She never knew how much she could miss her com.link or Ratchet's voice.

A sheet of metal slipped and fell to the ground, startling her so badly that she shrieked and jumped, optics wide as her head snapped around to the abrupt noise that had shattered the semi-silence of the Labs. The mangled sheet of metal had fallen aside to reveal a door behind it and her spark gave a sudden hopeful lunge within her breastplate. She recognized that door! She recalled it from the visions in the static, at least, she thought she did. She recognized it for the restricted door leading down to the third level where, supposedly, Wheeljack kept his failed experiments and other odds and ends.

She started to her feet in a haste and stumbled her way over to it as quickly as she could. Her body felt weak, zapped of its strength from the sudden attack of emotions that ran rampaging through her body, mainly in her legs and some shaking in her arms, but she forced herself on through sheer determination only. She wouldn't let Wheeljack die.

It seemed to take an eternity before she got there. She could feel her spark painfully pounding within its laser core and would have thought that she had another one in her throat. She was a mess, but she held strong, knowing from failed forewarnings and visions in her past, from when she was human, that her dreams, the voices, the warnings in the pit in her stomach always told her the truth. Her instincts didn't lie to her even though society portrayed it as a bad thing to listen to it, and in most cases voices were a bad thing. But not this one. She had had to learn and train herself to listen to it, and before she had learned to listen to it, learned to forsake society's opinions on matters, she had lost others dear to her too.

She wouldn't let society's views on their most basic, primitive drive, the drive to survive, to act, to respond that had gotten them through thousands of years worth of evolution and only God knew what else, stop her now. The images in her static, in her failed vision, came to her vividly now. She had seen the iron beam fall before it had, had seen that her com.link would be down, that Wheeljack would be close to death's door and now, this. The door itself. She knew Wheeljack's survival was behind it, her gut told her so. Her mind might have disagreed, as it did now at the improbability of it all, that there was no way visions could be true and disregarded it even then as coincidence, but Phage was an odd character. Then again all artists were strange, but she was a good strange.

She disagreed with herself, held conversations with herself. She didn't see it as wrong, she saw it as her own personal journey of constant intellectual growth. And sometimes it was, other times it was nonsense. Right now she was hoping it would be the first. She wanted to prove science, logic, order, reason, she wanted to prove it wrong. She wanted to prove her heart right, her instincts, her dreams and soul right. The things that could never be proven, but the things that mattered.

She was putting her hands in hope, in dreams and visions, not in cold hard logic. Death lied along that path, she'd experienced it before.

She reached the door and looked for a way to open it, but it required a hand print from an authorized official. Wonderful. She couldn't drag Wheeljack's body over here and she wasn't an authorized official. She felt her spirits dropping as she looked around. Already a voice inside her head, her logical voice, began to mock her for her foolhardiness, her craziness to believe in dreams. It was all coincidence, just like it was coincidence that she had come looking for Wheeljack when she had. His inventions almost always failed, it wasn't fate, it was dumb, terrible luck.

'No. Not true. Not true!' A second voice popped in, berating the other. 'It was coincidence that I would leave a party to go looking for trouble? What kind of logic is that? I had been given a choice by fate to be here and I seized it!'

'Rubbish!' Her logical voice roared at her even as her collective conscious took a look to her left and scanned the area over. Her logical voice didn't even get to say anything else, because she spied what she needed within that very second and cried out traumatically. She dived to the floor and came back up with Wheeljack's missing arm, now found.

"I really hope this works." She muttered as she twirled around and flattened out the hand on the identification pad. She had written a comic book for her business where the main character had entered the bridge of the enemy ship in such a fashion but didn't know if it would actually work.

Amazingly enough it did. Phage cried out with relief as the identification pad accepted the recognized hand print and opened the door for her. She tossed Wheeljack's arm aside and hustled into the golden hall beyond, tossing the sheet of twisted metal aside in the process. She was presented with two doors. One was clearly an elevator and another was marked stairs. She practically threw herself at the elevator without even stopping and punched the 'top' button for her level fanatically. Within her minds eye she could still picture Wheeljack on the floor, shaking uncontrollably as his body was wracked by a fracture in his laser core. Every second she imagined it to be his last, and acted with equal haste and impatience.

It seemed to take an eternity for the elevator to reach the top and several times she had considered using the stairs, but reasoned that she had already waited for so long, that it would be here soon enough. Just as the elevator door opened the door to the short hall closed behind her. Phage snapped around and stared dumbly at the closed door back to Wheeljack. She started back for it, then stopped as the elevator door opened up.

"Shoot!" She spat out, not at all caring about the pain that it would cause her. She spared the door a quick grim glare as she jumped into the elevator and slammed her finger on the 'bottom' button. The elevator door, as a true traditional elevator door, closed as quickly as a snail. The green femme couldn't believe how slow it was, or how slow it was going down. Didn't it realize the haste that the blood-soaked fembot was in? She had a life to save damn it! Didn't the people who ever built these things realize that?!

After what seemed like a thousand years the elevator reached the bottom floor and cracked opened its doors for her. They hadn't even opened up a foot before she was shoving her way through, trying to squeeze into places she obviously couldn't fit, but the motorcycle fembot refused to accept that she couldn't.

After a rather tight fit she found herself standing in what could have been possibly described as a worse mess than up above. There were things, metallic contraptions, machines, weapons, and other contraptions that she couldn't even figure out their purpose for scattered about in heaps and piles there and about. The entire room was filled with nothing but… junk.

For a precious second she was overwhelmed by it all. She hadn't seen so much discarded things in all her life, well, metallic items anyway. It was a maze of nothing and yet everything. It was a metal jungle of someone's personally discarded items, affections that nobody wanted. It was like a six-car door garage filled with nothing but junk from floor to ceiling and no garage doors in sight. Support beams, columns, protruded up from the metal mess here and there, poking out above some junk heaps there and about and lining the one clear walkway that had been painstakingly kept clear of the mess.

One item unparticular caught her eye immediately among all the rest. It wasn't like any of the other junk items in that it was some sort of weapon or contraption – large or small- but in the fact that it was in fact a robot. Phage stepped towards it, taking note of how drained and shaky all her limbs felt but pushed it aside. She could see go on.

She still had strength in her limbs yet.

The robot was laid out on a table in the room and hooked up to some moderate machine with a control panel small enough for a human. Wires and cables were connected to him here and there and ran across the length of the cleared space of the room to the machine. As she drew closer she noted that he was rather massive, probably standing somewhere near Prime's height if he had been on his feet.

The closer she got the more she took note of the mismatched mechaniod, and the more she noted its bizarre design the more familiar it seemed, as if she'd seen it somewhere before. Of course that wasn't possible. She'd never seen this thing before, she would have remembered that. And last she checked there wasn't an Autobot like…

Wait. Autobot X. Her optics lit up in hope. She recalled how Wheeljack had told her about Sparkplug's failed invention and the ensuing misadventure that had come from it – if by misadventure you could count saving Spike's life then yes. Misadventure.

But here it was! In mint condition with only dust bringing down his collectors value. Here was her gold mine, her ticket to saving Wheeljack.

She couldn't believe that Prime had ordered the empty shell locked away forever. If she could get the transfer operation to work and save Wheeljack she was going to have to bug the hell outta Prime until he consented to reopening up the possibilities of mind transfer to Autobot X.

The green femme circled the giant robot over to the machine and began looking it over, seeking what looked like the power switch and the set of helmets that Wheeljack had explained to her in his story. She was a rather clever and mature individual, despite her moments of absent-mindedness and her constant aura of childish innocence, she was sure she could get this thing to work.

She had to.

She did a bit of tinkering using extensions from her fingers to work the panel, tried a button or two then finally got the thing up and running. The electricity for it came on at once, gears and hidden pulleys and motherboards that hadn't been used in years began to crank and hum to life. She felt her hope rising. She began to scavenge around it now for the helmets, not that that took long in and of itself. They were sitting on the floor nearby, and all she had to do was follow the mess of wires to them. She picked one up and was startled by the weight of the device but carried on and fixed it to Autobot X's head. Then she went back for the other and turned towards the elevator door…

And paused. She looked back at the helmet in her hands.

It wasn't even the right size for a Transformer, only for a human. Even if it had been was there even enough length of wire to reach Wheeljack up there?

She looked back down towards the length of cable running from the helmet to the machine…

And wished that she didn't have a personal creed that stated that she'd never swear – physically anyway.

Mentally was a completely open and free ball game. 'SHIT! Shit!Shit!Shit!Shit!Shit!Shit!Shit!'

She stood there looking dumb for about five seconds, then she had an idea. Wheeljack had said that Autobot X was strong and powerful, compared with her own weaker form that was a definite bonus. Well, since it was clear that she couldn't get the transfer mind-device helmet-thingy up to Wheeljack...

She turned and eyed Autobot X, then the lighter weight metal helmet in her hands. It was too small for a normal Transformer like Optimus or Ironhide or Bumblebee, but it would fit a human nicely.

She grinned at her own cleverness and pure luck before she stepped over to the machine. Phage initiated her shrinking program she had when she first came on-line and began to compact and literally shrink in size until she was the height that she had been when she was human. It was practically the same programming that Soundwave and others used in their own transformations sequences, including her own. After all, there was no way she could go from her current height – which was about up to Jazz's chest – and into a human sized motorcycle without some sort of compact subspace programming involved.

Coming to the appropriate height and continuing to grin, though it hurt, she slammed the device down on her head and then pulled the lever that she believed to be the one needed for transfer.

"Luck don't fail me now!" The green and gunmetal grey femme chirped as she left energy began to hum into the helmet.

No sooner had she pulled the lever than she lost control of her limbs and collapsed onto the ground, her optics staring aimlessly up at the ceiling for a few moments before dimming into a lifeless grey. Her body, having spasmed and jerked from the sudden shift of mental control, settled down and was finally silent.

She laid there for a few seconds or was it a minute, staring up at the ceiling and wondering if she'd done something wrong. Had she just permanently damaged her body? Was she still able to move? She definitely felt different, she didn't feel so…feminine anymore. In fact she was rather angry, though she didn't know why. She had the urge to break something, and not just break something, but smash it into oblivion. She was in a foul temper, sourly displeased, angry, upset, irked…

Phage blinked and growled out in irritation, working on that rare anger of hers as she tried to imagine why the transfer hadn't worked and slowly sat up. Or at least she tried. It was rather hard to think and all she wanted to do was just lie there. As she sat up she took immediate notice that her thinking was tremendously slowed, and found the source for it right away. Her programming had to send out about fifty different messages of the same order to fifty different parts of her body. It was like every part of her body was speaking a different language and couldn't understand the other part. Why the hell was that?

Her anger faded as she started to panic, wondering what the hell she had done to herself, only to realize why her programming had become so screwed up.

It wasn't her body.

Once she had finally managed to get herself upright she got a glimpse of her body and realized that it wasn't her familiar slender and green one. It was Autobot X's.

Under any other circumstances that would have been a really bad experience, but for her, and the optimistic Phage unparticular, it was the best thing in the world.

"Awesome!" Autobot Phage said as she removed the device from her head and sat it down. Her body responded without a hitch, but mentally her CPU was bogged down from it all. She was processing things slower than she normal could have in her normal body. 'Huh. I wonder if this is how Caboose thinks all the time.'

She glanced herself over again, trying to get a feel for this new body, for her new male body and the feeling of being a 'man' or rather mech. On a deep personal level she had always wondered what it was like and now that she was experiencing it, it was a little weird. She didn't have any more of her feminine cravings, to be filled and pleased, but instead she…

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts and slipped off the table. She couldn't think about how she felt! She couldn't waste any time at all! She had to act. She had to get Wheeljack down here.

She – or rather he – started for the elevator doors but the going was more than rough. S-he wasn't used to the extra weight of he-r new body and it was throwing off he-r equilibrium. S-he stumbled to the door, but then thought better off it. S-he'd wasted time enough as it was already and decided that s-he needed to take the stairs. Weren't the stairs supposed to be faster anyway?

S-he was such an idiot.

Autobot Phage ambled to the stairs and then inside. S-he glanced up at the flight of twisting stairs proceeding upward and frowned. There was no way s-he was going to waste he-r time with this. S-he activated her flight programming and rocketed up the empty space in the center to the top step and stepped, or rather stumbled, onto the solid floor. Flight had been easier than walking. Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around?

Again the door was unlocked and s-he opened it up onto the familiar short hall from before, only to be confronted by the locked door leading back to the Lab, and ultimately Wheeljack. At least, s-he thought it was locked.

"Blasted dumb door." Autobot Phage grumbled to he-r self as s-he stumbled into the room. He-r voice was deeper than usual, but somehow still carried with it her feminine touch. And if seeing some hulking pieced together scrap heap wasn't frightening enough, s-he was sure that her voice would be. It frightened even her. S-he couldn't tell if it was male or female. That was a little creepy. With the problem of the door back the foul temper that seemed to come with the new body came back in full force as well, eager to solve the problem with this irritating door. "Probably locked inside and that's no good. Wheeljack's on the other side. Well, only one way through then…"

Autobot Phage took aim at the door with the missile launcher installed onto he-r shoulder and fired. The rocket streaked forward and connected with the door, blowing it off its track and into the other room. Autobot Phage couldn't help but grin and laugh hysterically as s-he stumbled into the Labs for Wheeljack's body. S-he found it right where s-he left it. As well as the beam that had led to he-r current position.

Wheeljack's body was in worse condition than when s-he left it. The convulsions had gotten worse, and a few repairs that s-he had done had undone themselves. It would have probably put he-r into an even fouler mood if s-he wasn't concerned with the well-being of he-r friend. Judging by the constant convolutions s-he would have guessed that Wheeljack was at the brink of going permanently off-line.

Autobot Phage couldn't help but to gasp in horror. "Wheeljack! Hold up I'm coming!" S-he raced forward with about as much grace as an alligator trying to imitate a swan. It wasn't pretty and a lot of scrap metal that Phage had been able to nimbly jump over and around before was scattered before Autobot Phage.

"Wheeljack! Wheeljack!" Autobot Phage cried out dumbly as s-he knelt down and grabbed the iron beam. "Hold on! Don't give up! Hold on for just a few seconds longer!" With all the strength s-he could muster s-he pulled up and the iron beam came up with he-r as easily as that. S-he was rather amazed with the difference in strength that this body possessed compared to he-r old one. S-he was also agitated by it. S-he couldn't believe that s-he had ever thought that s-he had been strong before. S-he was just kidding he-rself. Maybe strong when it came to feminine terms but this! Wow!

S-he tossed the iron beam aside and knelt down beside Wheeljack. With the weight of the iron beam no longer pressing the shrapnel further into his laser core his convulsions had eased a little, but it was still terrible. Sparks were flying everywhere in company with the blue electrical energies from his laser core. He needed to be transferred to this body and quickly.

"Come on Wheeljack. Up you go!" Autobot Phage said as s-he lifted Wheeljack's mangled body up as carefully as s-he could. "Your in need of a major overhaul, and I know just where to get one!"

Autobot Phage trampled his-her way out of the Labs going as delicately as s-he could, not that that was easy. Not at all. Things got better though once s-he reached the stairway, once there s-he activated he-r jets and flew back down to the third level. As s-he was going s-he heard a distant roar of noise coming from back upstairs and then voices. One raised above the others though that s-he picked out was none other than Ratchet's.

"PHAGE! PHAGE!! WHERE ARE YOU?"

In the depths of Autobot X's mind he recognized Ratchet's voice and with it he remembered the last time he had been activated. Anger, hate, and rage began to swell up within him, overriding Phage's calmer, more passive psyche. He stopped halfway down the stairway, hovering in flight, his-her optics flaring from sapphire straight down to crimson red and he released a guttural roar of rage.

Silence came from above.

A nerve-jerked movement from Wheeljack's spasaming body caused him to smack his remaining hand against Autobot Phage/X's face, smearing bit of blood there in the process. Autobot X growled down at Wheeljack, but then the sight of his body refired Phage's own will, her persona, and it proved to be more than just passive. There was a warrior there after all.

"Wheeljack!" Came back Autobot Phage's voice. "Hold on! Hold on!"

S-he jetted down to the bottom floor and hurried back to the computer. S-he carefully laid Wheeljack down on the stretch of table and took the helmet, placing it on h-er own head, then stepped over to the control panel. As s-he extended out the smaller finer equipment from he-r fingertip to activate the programming, s-he distantly heard Optimus Prime's voice call out rather reservedly from farther above, s-he guessed at the entrance to the stairs, "PHAGE? ARE YOU DOWN THERE?"

S-he flipped the switch and underwent the mind-transfer process again.

She was lying on the floor staring up at the ceiling. Nearby she heard a rather hefty crash of metal and glanced over, finding that Autobot X's body, without a mind to drive it, had crashed limply to the ground against the table where Wheeljack was laid out. And if Autobot X was there then she had to be back in her own body.

She sat up as she heard Prime call again from above, a bit more concerned again, "PHAGE?"

The Autobot femme removed the helmet from her head and returned to her normal height. "YEAH!" She called out as loud as she could, then yelled out a sharp "Ow!" and covered her hand over the left side of her face where Wheeljack had kicked it. God, she'd forgotten about that!

Hissing and glowering like the Pitts at Wheeljack's foot, wondering how nice it would be if she could detach it and melt it down, she moved over and grabbed the helmet off of Autobot X then stopped dead. Grimly, coldly, she glanced down at both the helmets in her hands and then uttered an incoherent growl of rage – at her own stupidity.

She had two helmets, one for a human and one for a Transformer. If she was going to get Wheeljack safely into Autobot X how the hell was she going to do that if Wheeljack OR Autobot X couldn't fit either of their fat heads into the human-sized one. She thought up a series of degrading insults at herself for not realizing this sooner but then again earlier it had seemed like the perfect plan. She thought she had thought it out.

Great.

Had she forgotten her own plan?

Crap. She hated these types of switches. But then again she was typically good at it.

But that still didn't slow her current problem with Wheeljack back on deaths door and now worse yet a level lower than he once was, making him a level lower and farther from Ratchet and the Medbay. "You're a fucking genius Phage. Just fucking wonderful. Well, say ta-de-da to Wheeljack now. Probably just killed him you moron.'

"No!... Nonononononononono!" Phage moaned to herself as she looked at both the helmets despairingly. Her visions in the static…there was supposed to be some way to save him down here wasn't there? Wasn't that what her sixth senses were all about? Her guttural instincts?

She could hear several metallic feet slapping down the series of winding stairs that led down to her level. With each footfall that she heard she imagined each signaling the death bell of both her and Wheeljack. Would the Autobots actually put her away for the rest of her extended life for killing Wheeljack? For being so stupid? Or would they let her live but look down on her forever more? Either path was impossible for her. She couldn't imagine life either way.

She let the helmets drop from her numb hands as she looked around, the tears and all her bodily aches returning in full force. The stinging was harsh now, brutal, and her emotions were high strung once again. She just wanted to drop down right there and then and curl up into a fetal position, but she couldn't. Her own pride wouldn't let her. Not now anyway, not when others would see. Her optics roved over to Wheeljack and noticed that his convulsions were becoming worse again and Autobot X was just lying there, empty, useless, lifeless…

Lifeless? She snapped her attention back to him, fixating her gaze on his chest. What if –?

"Hold on Wheeljack…" she murmured softly, using as little mouth movement as she could. Her face smarted enough as it was. She said it more to herself than to him, after all he couldn't hear it, and it was more for comfort for her than anything else. She knelt down before Autobot X and hesitated, wondering how in the world she was going to get his chest plate off and get to his empty laser core, and even if she knew how she was going to get it off before Wheeljack died? That was if he died in the next second, or two…or three.

The footsteps of Prime and the others drew closer and closer like death bells ringing off in distant lands. She felt her systems overheating again, her nerves stretching themselves as tightly as they could go. She was going to be in so much trouble….

Something caught the corner of her vision and she glanced over her shoulder to a higher point on the main controls for the machine. Her mouth dropped open and her optics went wide. She couldn't believe her luck. It was a third helmet, another one of Transformer size, already set up and linked to the computer. She could hardly believe it.

How? Why?

She swiped those thoughts from her mind as quickly as a snob shooing aside a beggar and lunged for the helmet. She had to reach to grab it- sometimes there was a downside to being so small – but she got it and brought it down. She hardly spared a glance at the device, only she whipped around, grabbed the one off the floor, slapped it on Autobot X's head and then the newer one onto Wheeljack's.

Prime and the others were so close, as she spun around back to the control panel she thought she saw a flash of their feet as they made the final around about before hitting the bottom step.

Boy, they were fast.

She pulled the lever and started the transfer.

The process was instantaneous. Wheeljack's body gave three last good jerks before it settled down, and when it stopped Autobot X's optics flashed, the crimson glass changing from red to blue.

That was weird. Had it done it with hers too?

The mismatched piece of machinery groaned and dipped his head towards his right shoulder, but any further movement Phage missed as she heard a smashing of metal on metal coming from the stairway. She turned her attention upward where she found that Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had decided to skip running down the stairs and simply jump over the edge. About the time they straightened up Ratchet and Optimus came around the corner of the stairs, followed shortly by Ironhide, Brawn, Bumblebee, Sparkplug, Spike, and probably the rest of the Autobot forces too.

Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Optimus, and Ratchet stopped dead as soon as they caught sight of her. Prime's optics got large upon seeing her, the largest she'd ever seen them and he lowered his gun, which, like the Twins and the others she could spot, had them out also. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe just gave her puzzled stares complete with the uplifting of metallic ridges and lowered their own guns as well.

Sideswipe was the first to speak. The smart-mouthed jock took one look at her and cracked a grin. "What the hell happened to you? I thought you were supposed to be fixing Wheeljack, not bathing in his blood."

Any mirth that had just eked its way into her from her victory drained out immediately at the comment. She threw her best 'death-glare' at him that she had and just stood there, feeling weak, exhausted both physically and mentally, AND emotionally without saying a word. Just glaring, and glaring, and glaring with her head partially bent so that she could get the shadows covering her optics and making her look even more ticked off like the way she'd practiced.

Yeah, she practiced her glares…

How badly did that signal that she had too much time on her hands?

She really needed a boyfriend or something. Maybe a new hobby.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were used to getting glares, they often got them all the time from Prowl or Prime or Ratchet, Ironhide, or one of their other superiors for some new gag they'd pulled or some smart-alike comment, but this was different. She was a femme, and somehow it was just worse with the opposite gender. Her features were unflinching, her blue optics as cold as ice, and those shadows…that didn't help at all. Neither did the way her face swelled at the left and the flexi-metal skin was torn. The glare in and of itself seemed to say 'I-will-see-you-dead-by-tomorrows-dawn.' That thought was only further pinned into Sideswipe's CPU by the lifeblood that was drying to her body. She had it practically everywhere. Her hands were drenched up to her elbows, she had a splash of it across her forehead and some splatters on her breastplate. He didn't even think he wanted to know what her legs looked like.

The red Autobot tried laughing her glare off as if it was funny but she wouldn't crack, she just continued to glare dagger-and-fire at him until Ratchet sprang forward, no longer held at bay by her glare himself, and practically threw himself at Wheeljack's side. As he ran into the room he was already changing his hand out for his medical equipment instead and his temper seemed about as jolly as a parent doing last-minute Christmas shopping on Christmas Eve.

"How the slagging hell did you guys get down here? You didn't drag his body down here did you?" With that he sent her an accusing glare himself and Phage couldn't help but to look disgusted at the accusation.

"Drag him?" She cracked, her glare melting away as quickly as it had solidified to her face. "I'm not that brain-dead."

"Then how–" Ratchet cut himself off as he waved his own hand held electrical scanner over Wheeljack and got no response. The Medical officer sharply turned his head back to his red hand, the other having been changed into a laser scalpel and was –or rather had been, busy cutting around the shrapnel piece. He gave a garbled cry of alarm as a look of absolute horror etched itself onto his face.

Optimus and the others began to accumulate into what free space there was in the crowded storage room, with the rest hovering around in the stairway. The Autobots fixated their gazes onto Ratche– Spike and Sparkplug included– fearing exactly what that incoherent cry meant.

Ratchet frantically waved the device over Wheeljack's body again, but to no avail. His face fell. "No…" he muttered, optics wide in sorrow and face drawn, "It can't be…."

Phage started to open her mouth but pulled a face instead as she tore her damaged face even further. She clasped her hand to it again, hissing at the pain that shot through her face. The noise caught Ratchet's attention, and looked over at her, a mixture of disappointment and…anger? In his optics.

"Phage, how…" He tried but stopped. The green femme watched as he tried to formulate his words again but failed each time. She was a little bitter at the fact that Ratchet was accusing her of killing Wheeljack, she'd done just the opposite, not that the could see Autobot X behind the table, or any of them for that matter, and not that she had told them what she had done, but she still found the accusation, the unspoken accusation, hurtful. She could tell that he thought her unnecessary action of brining him down here, probably still thinking she had dragged him or something, was what had done him in.

At last Ratchet sighed and closed his optics, switching his tools back for his hand and rubbed his head, saying, "I left you for seven point forty-six minutes and in that time…" His words faded off, the look on his face unable to believe all of what had happened. Phage couldn't help but to look at him, hurt, angry, and yet surprised. Its only been seven minutes since she lost contact with him? Seven? She thought it would be another ten before Ironhide and Sideswipe had broken through, maybe more…

But to accuse her of killing him. He wasn't dead!

She tried opening her mouth again but Optimus decided to intervene, obviously wanting to prevent any more accusations before this turned into one bitter confrontation between master and apprentice. His very movement caught both of their attentions and fixated them onto his powerful build. He locked optics with Phage, and she couldn't help but to lock hers with his and notice the understanding, patient, and understandably curious look within them.

"Phage," Optimus said, his very kindly, baritone voice questioning, "Where'd you get the firepower to bust down the door and why would you bring Wheeljack down here if you knew he was critical?"

Phage stared into Prime's optics, then slowly back behind him to all the awaiting stares of the rest of the Autobots and Sparkplug and Spike. Spike looked the most traumatized. She guessed he'd never had somebody close die to him before. Lucky bastard.

She glanced towards Ratchet next, but couldn't look at him for long. How could he…! Her systems sizzled at the thought, but he didn't know, she couldn't get mad. He'd understand once she explained he was alive. She looked back to Prime and tried speaking, even though it hurt to speak, "I…I…" she stopped herself, not because it hurt to speak so loudly and have to pronounce her words so clearly to be heard by everyone, but now that she thought about it, I saw these visions that told me too didn't exactly sound very popular.

She dropped her gaze away from Prime and muttered out as loud as she could without hurting her face too much, "Wheeljack's not dead. He's right here." And she pointed down beside her. Ratchet lifted an optical ridge at her and started around the table. Prime, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, and the others did more or less the same and edged forward, while those at the door tried to crane their necks to see what she was talking about.

Being the first around the table before Prime, Sideswipe, Ironhide, or Sunstreaker, Ratchet froze in his place, his optics going wide as he clasped optics on the unconscious Autobot X. His optics darted back to her and she was proud to note the several different looks that crossed his face. Relief, guilt, understanding, and then finally bewilderment.

"How'd you know about him?"

"Wheeljack told me."

Optimus, Ironhide, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker rounded the corner and froze themselves, but not for long. Sideswipe hefted his gun and pointed it at the unconscious form and shouted out, "Autobot X!"

Phage noted how all the Autobots at the door stiffened and went for their weapons.

Ironhide smacked his gun away and glared at the red Autobot. "You ding-bot! She transferred Wheeljack over ta Autobot X! So what ya think yer doin' pointin' yer gun at him for?"

Sideswipe, having had several bad experiences with the Frankenstein Autobot, just glared right back at the elder Autobot. "What's Wheeljack got to matter if he's in there or not? Spike was in it and he still lost control!"

"What about me?"

The two arguing 'bots ceased their arguing and turned their full attention onto Autobot X. Or rather Autobot Wheeljack. The mismatched mechaniod moaned as he came to and lifted his arm to rub his head. Optimus stepped forward and knelt down in front of him with Phage right beside him. "How do you feel Wheeljack? You've been through a lot."

"I have?" The Autobot asked, his voice was off, deeper, almost slower, but somehow it still had a bit of his ring to it. His voice, but not quite. He rubbed his head again, looking thoroughly confused. It was rather interesting actually to see Wheeljack's full array of emotions, lips, optics and all, instead of just his optics and flashing lights. Then again, it wasn't his face, but it was still him in a sense.

Autobot Wheeljack cocked his head at Prime and said a bit dazed, "The last thing I remember was something about a party, and Phage telling me how Sideswipe had talked Prowl into a drinking contest with Trailbreaker…" Sideswipe snickered at the remark, "And then my invention... my invention!" His optics lit up at that and he sat bolt up. "Now I remember! My little baby blew a fuse right in my face. Tch, new I should have sung to her each night before leaving the Lab." Wheeljack cracked a grin at that and even Optimus had to smile, but Ratchet wasn't much amused.

The CMO shoved his red fists onto his hip plates and grumbled out, "Tell me something Wheeljack, do you get a kick out of interrupting my hard fought-over parties just to see me back in Medbay or do you enjoy kissing death's lips? Because personally, I don't really give a retro-rat's aft which one it is, but when you go and endanger others that's when we start having problems!"

"Others?" Wheeljack echoed blankly.

Ratchet couldn't help but to be flustered. An hour of helpless anxiety and now this, an absent-minded Autobot-X changed Wheeljack. How wonderful. "I mean Phage! She was in the slagging Lab with you! Next time you want to test out an invention of yours do so after informing me ahead of time so I can be prepared for the mess and making sure your assistant and yourself are behind a ten foot thick steel wall!"

"Phage? But she left before… no, no wait she was there."

"Yeah. I was." Wheeljack's optics went wide and he twisted his attention upwards towards the sound of her voice. He took one look at her condition, at her torn and swelling face and at the blood all over her and paled visibly.

His jolly, ever-present optimistic tone drained completely out of his voice as he choked out, "Phage? Dear Primus I…are you okay?"

The femme nodded her head and said, her voice cracking high for a moment before returning to normal, "Peachy-keen. Nothing a quick visit to Medbay and some time off won't fix."

Wheeljack smiled at that. "I'm glad your okay. Guess we got away clean then huh?" The sudden sorrowful look on her face made Wheeljack glance from her to Prime and then to Ratchet. With his optics landing on Ratchet he asked, his optimistic ways back once more, "Well what's been done to me? Can't be anything serious if Phage only came away with a bit of bangs and bruises."

"Phage didn't even have that eight minutes ago! You on the other hand were in such bad condition we thought you were going to die! I still don't know how or why, but she managed to drag your defected carcass down here and transferred you over into Autobot X's body." Ratchet sighed and then looked to Phage and finally took note of her pained expressions and the trickle of fresh vibrant blue lifeblood seeping out between her fingers. It picked a cord in his spark and he suddenly wanted to smack himself. In less than a minute he'd managed to accuse her of killing Wheeljack and then completely ignore her. What a great doctor he was!

"Really?" Wheeljack chimed and began examining himself. The 'mad scientist' couldn't help but chuckle. "Well would you look at this! So I am Autobot X! Heheheh! Oh that explosion must have been a doosy. I guess my Wheeljack Energy Shield Recycler has a bit of a temper to her. Oh well. Back to the drawing board I suppose."

Optimus shook his head and stood up, offering a hand to his long time companion. "There'll be plenty of time later for you to redesign your instrument, Wheeljack. Right now I think you and Ratchet might want to do some repairs on Phage as well as…you."

Wheeljack chuckled at the prospect of that. "Heheh, working on my own body. Well, now I think I have done everything." Once on his feet he caught sight of that said body and actually pulled a frown, noting not only the damage but his rather exposed self- that was except for the piece of gauze that was laid over it. He glanced towards Phage, of whom was being attended to by a rather concerned Ratchet, and then mentally shook his head. Ratchet didn't have a drop of lifeblood on him, Phage on the other hand…

He'd have to talk to Ratchet about exactly what happened later.

With absolute genuine concern the white and red Autobot stepped over to the younger Phage and gently took her hand that laid over her face "Here, let me see that. Eeesh…!" Ratchet said as he moved her hand aside and titled her head back with his other hand. He carefully pulled on the skin, bringing it down to see just how much had been torn. Phage pulled a face but held her tongue, not that Ratchet didn't catch it. The medical officer released her. "How did you get that anyway?"

Phage just looked exhaustedly up at the chief medical officer and said, "I'll tell you the story later."

Ratchet simply nodded and glanced over towards Optimus and Autobot Wheeljack. "I think it's best if we get these two…I mean three," he corrected himself as he glanced towards Wheeljack's actual body, "back to Medbay ASAP. Wheeljack and I do have a lot of work to do." Ratchet made a point to glare at Autobot Wheeljack for that, something of which he didn't miss.

Wheeljack smiled back. "Oh, don't be so mad, Ratchet. I may have crashed your party but look at it this way, we get to spend personal buddy time with each other and Phage."

"Yippee! I could have done that at the party. Now march! And take your body with you!"

Phage moved to follow the rest of the Autobots out but no sooner had she stepped away from the support of the machine than her knees gave out beneath her and she fell down onto all fours. She gave out a short shout of surprise and Optimus, Ratchet, Autobot Wheeljack with his body, Ironhide, and the Twins paused, turning back to see what had happened. Ratchet and Optimus came back for her, but only Prime held out his hand for her to take while Ratchet stood back, watching and took note of her trembling hand as she stuck it in Prime's.

"What happened?" Optimus asked as he helped her to her feet.

"Exhausted." Phage offered, and it was nothing short of the truth. She felt weak in the legs, in her arms, sick to her stomach and shaky all over. She wondered how she was managing to even stand, let alone how she was even going to climb the stairs all the way back up to the Labs and then Medbay. She supposed she could take the elevator, but that still left her with having to walk to Medbay with about as much strength as a newborn kitten and nerves shot so bad she'd probably jump at their very footfalls. She'd never been through so much stress in her life as a human before and knew that this, like her first few battles, was simply a dose of what she was going to suffer through until her body learned to coup with it. That or until she died because frankly she wasn't kidding herself at the prospect that a war that had lasted for over nine million years was going to end tomorrow. Fat chance of that.

Optimus seemed to grasp the meaning behind the single word and her worries. He'd seen her suffer through it her first few times in battle. Heck, he himself had suffered through such for a long time after the war had started. Everybody in this room had. And still did from time to time.

Before she could even protest, Optimus bent down and scooped her up into his arms. The femme gave out a short cry of surprise before looking at her commander with large, shocked optics. Optimus couldn't help but to smile merrily at her reaction, not that she could see the smile but it touched his sapphire optics well enough.

"Wha?" Phage choked out, looking absolutely shocked by his action. Optimus started marching off with her held securely in his grasp.

Sideswipe threw on a pout and whined out, "Ah man! I wanted to do that!"

"You can next time, okay Sideswipe." Optimus replied back in a rather obvious joking matter and gave the mech a wink. Sideswipe couldn't' help but grin but Phage looked outraged and as was typical with her, she used her hands to illustrate her point when she spoke, but seeing as how her left arm was pinned against Prime's chest plate she only had her right one to use, and she used it well as she moved it about in quick, agitated movements.

"What are you doing? I can walk! …Eisss!" Simply even to say that hurt so bad. She hissed against the pain for what seemed the millionth time that day as she felt her flexi-metal face tear more and ground her teeth together, slapping a hand over her wound to cover it.

Optimus couldn't help but to look at her with sympathetic optics. "Knowing your stubbornness you probably could make it to Medbay, Phage, and not say a word about your condition. But it would be better if you didn't walk and gave your body a chance to rest off its edginess from your ordeal."

"I'm fine." She lied, grumbled out through her teeth and not daring to fix her gaze with him, instead she held it straight out in front of them or at the Twins, who were grinning away madly at this whole situation. She couldn't help but to glare at them.

Ratchet barked at that as their group started up the fire escape stairs. "Hah! Do you have any idea how many times I've heard these ding-bots say that? Especially him?" The Autobot medic said as he popped up on Prime's right, where Phage's head was located, and caught optics with her. At him Ratchet jabbed his thumb in Prime's direction. Phage couldn't help but crack a grin. Ratchet continued on with his playful ranting as he shot Prime a knowing glare, and then Sunstreaker on Prime's left with Sideswipe. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't turn out like Optimus or some of the other gruff 'bots here that I have to literally drag into my Medbay for a simple checkup. Or like some of the others that come in every time they find a scratch in their paintjob."

"Hey!" Sunstreaker bit back. "Somebody around here has to keep up a sparkling public appearance for the humans of what real Cybertronian beauty is like! And looking around at some of your ugly mugs I can tell it ain't gonna be any of you."

Ratchet rolled his optics at that and glanced back to Phage, who was grinning madly at Sunstreaker's ego. Sometimes the Yellow Terror could be such a trip. "Do you see what I mean? Now, will you go along with this or do I have to issue out a doctor's order?"

Phage's mirth drained away instantly as the conversation was turned back to her. She frowned and diverted her optics from Ratchet and back out into the middle of space. Still frowning, arms folded as best she could as they still progressed back up the stairs, she grumbled out, "Yeah, sure. Whatever."

Ratchet grinned and patted her on the shoulder. "That's my girl! At least I have somebody here whose willing to work with me!"

She really didn't know what happened after that exactly, simply because somewhere between Prime carrying her up the stairs from the Lab to the Medbay, which was roughly a thirty minute walk, she found herself enveloped in a semi-conscious state of exhaustive sleep.

---

"So Ratchet? What do you think the verdict is? Repairable or scrapable?"

"Both if you ask me. The latter being a nicer choice of the two. I think that new body suits you."

"Really? You know, I was thinking so too. And you should really run a diagnostic on the power Autobot X has! Sparkplug, you really knew what you were doing!"

"Heheheha. Thanks Wheeljack."

Phage slowly powered up her optics and fluttered her flexi-metal eyelids open until she found the large room – large, hah, the whole Ark was enormous, even by Transformer standards – of Medbay swimming into her view. As she looked around she found Ratchet, Sparkplug, and Autobot Wheeljack hovering over an examination berth close to hers.

"Hey guys, what's shakin'?"

"Nothing." Came Wheeljack's quick reply as he, Ratchet, and Sparkplug turned about and looked at her. Wheeljack chuckled softly at the look she gave him and he said, "Or rather me. Just fixing up my body is all. How's the face?"

Phage groaned. The pain was dulled and she felt something heavy and definitely not part of her face wrapped around the wound. Probably a flexi-casing or something. One of those Transformer bandages. "Ug."

Wheeljack chuckled again and Phage tried to smile, but the mere act hurt. "You don't say?" The large mismatched Transformer rumbled out.

"Alright, knock off the banter you two. As much as I love casual chitchatting we have immediate work to do on your body if we want to get you out of Autobot X's before you go berserk." Ratchet said and immediately delved into the work of repairing the scrap heap that was Wheeljack's original body.

"Can I help Ratchet?" Phage inquired as she struggled to sit up. Truth be told she didn't know how much more help she could be what with the actual doctor in the room, along with his four-time million year old assistant in crime, Wheeljack. But at least she could ask, instead of just doze right back off to sleep, which sounded very promising.

Ratchet spared her a glance and after a moment commented, "No. You need your rest still. You look horrible." Phage began to pout but Ratchet wouldn't have any of it. "Don't even pull that with me, missy!" His voice took on a softer tone as he went on to say, "You've already done quite enough as it is within an hour, which, given the fact that I was only giving you directions over a was quite a lot."

"And done quite admirably if I do say so." Autobot Wheeljack added in. Phage wasn't sure she could get used to hearing Wheeljack's voice, albeit a bit distorted by Autobot X's, without the blinking lights. It was just… weird.

"An hour?" Phage suddenly said, her voice and face hinting and contorting at that as if she had just remembered something. "Huh. That's…funny."

"How so?" Sparkplug asked as the three mechanical medics glanced at her. She absent-mindedly tapped her feet against the examination berth she was on as she looked to them, smiling softly. "Back in my senior year of high school they have an assembly that the seniors have to see that's about drunk driving and how it destroys lives, as well as everybody else in the school. Its so the young adults see how drinking affects people and why they shouldn't do it. They go to great lengths to set up a whole crash site and bring in the ambulance and helicopters and everything, and all the while the play is going on we have to sit up in the bleachers or stand on the grass for an hour as this guy drones on about how we should never drink and if we do drink, don't drink and drive without a sober driver."

"What's that got to do with what happened in the Labs?" Ratchet asked curiously.

Phage's slight grin was still plastered on her face as she said, "Well, for my senior one that I had, the guy that was doing the outlining for the skit keep repeating that from the moment the crash happens you have one hour, your golden hour, in which you have to call in for the ambulances to get to you and save you. With every second that goes by in that 'golden hour,' the least likely chance you have of living if you were injured in the car wreak. It just kind of struck me now that the whole event in Wheeljack's lab was his golden hour." Her optics slipped across the air of space and landed softly on Autobot Wheeljack as she went on to say, "…And you survived."

Wheeljack returned the smile and said sweetly, "Only because I had somebody there with me. Thanks. …Thank you for coming to find me to bring me to a party I should have been getting drunk at."

Phage, Sparkplug, and Ratchet laughed at that, noting the irony of it when compared to the story she had just told. Phage nodded tiredly and started to lay back down, still chuckling a bit to herself as she said, "Your welcome, 'Jack."

She couldn't rightly recall the conversation further after that, it began to drift off into a blur in her tired CPU as she curled up into a ball on her side, using her arm as a pillow, her body eager for more than an half hours rest or so, maybe a little more, maybe less. She didn't know. Finally she was out again, lost in the endless stuff that consisted of the bits of dreams and nightmares alike, the same stuff that formed her unconsciousness and her conscience alike.

The same stuff that her inner Voice came from, and her dreams of forewarnings. Even her gut instincts.

The very Voice that she had felt compelled to obey that had led her to the Labs, and into intervening in Wheeljack's golden hour.