Hey, hey, I'm back! For people who don't know me, I'm normally a 'Tak and the Power of Juju' writer. But I've been drawn to doing transformers, but this is my first so... try to be nice. This was a plot bunny submitted by Cheysuli Night on Livejournal along with a bunch of other plot's... which I intend to write in the near future. Now, for people who haven't read my other stories, I'm entering these stories on my labtop and it doesn't come with word... so no spellcheck for me. If you find a mistake, tell me, but do it nicely.
Chapter One
Ratchet hated Deceptacons, he couldn't possible begin to descrbe how much he hated them. Now he's sure other bots felt the same, but he was one of the few who actually had to watch mechs die. The resent attack on a neutral, yes neutral city resurfaced that feeling.
In a quickend pace, he raced down the hallway after receaving an urgent comm. link. Bursting threw the doors to the operating rooms, Ratchet was met with the sight of two battered bot lying on seperate berths surrounded by medical bots.
"What is it?" asked Ratchet.
"They both just lost their spark." One of the medics answered; Ratchet grimisted.
"This... this is nothing new. Why the urgent request?" The answer was not spoken right away.
"The femme had a sparkling with her." Ratchet's spark stopped.
"Sir?"
"Where is it..."
"...Sir?"
"Where's the slaggin' sparkling!"
"O-out in the waiting room... it's the only place we could keep him for now."
Ratchet exited, the group following, and headed to the room. He found the sparkling, a red and blue mech with a small scope mounted on his shoulder, kicking his legs over the edge of the chair and looking around with a look of curiousity.
"He won't talk," a mech mumbled in Ratchet's audio, " We asked him simple questions, you know... age, name. We got no response."
Ratchet, keeping that in mind, opened the door; the sparkling instantly stiffend, his optics widening in fear. Ratchet bent down till he was optic level with the sparkling, who had moved to the back of the chair and curled into a ball.
Ratchet smiled. "Don't worry little one, I'm not here to harm you." He rached forward and gently rubbed a central wire on the sparkling neck. The sparkling leaned into the touch, his optics flickering. "What's your name little one?"
The sparkling, instead of answering, eyed Ratchet with suspision; he instantly started making scribbeling gestures in the air. The small group of mechs were compleatly confused, but Ratchet understood. Grabbing a mech's clipboard and a pen from subspace, handing both items to the sparkling who promtly began to write. He handed the clipboard back to Ratchet, reading the only word written.
"...'Perceptor'?" the sparkling nodded, "Well, it's very nice to meet you Perceptor." The sparkling clicked and swung his legs happily; Perceptor pointed at Ratchet expectingly.
"Me? ...My name is Ratchet."
"...Ratchet..."
"Yes?"
"Where's mommy?"
Before Ratchet could respond, a medic spoke up with a harsh tone. "Sparkling, such as yourself, didn't concern youself with such trival problems."
Perceptor's optics instantly teared up and he shrank back into the chair. Ratchet, anger rising again, was bot to verbally back-hand the mech when he flet something lightly brush against his leg. He turned back to find Perceptor's arms up, fingers curling and uncurling, gesturing he wanted to be picked up. Ratchet obliged; feeling comforted by protective arms, Perceptor buried himself in the crook of Ratchet's neck.
"Ratchet... mommy's dead, isn't she." Somehow losing his ability to speak, Ratchet nodded. "Can... can I see her?" Ratchet turned and headed for the operating room, but was stopped by the mech who had spoken harshly.
"Sir, you can't be serious. Her spark is gone, there's no point to-" The mech was suddenly bopped in the nose by Perceptor, who exclaimed "You're mean!" then curled back into Ratchet still glaring at the mech. Ratchet laughed at the stunned mech and walked past him saying, "I was about to bark at you, but I believe the sparkling did that for me."
...
Ratchet's spark clenched as he saw the look of dispair on Perceptor's face. Grabbing his mother's hand, Perceptor wrapped her arm around him and laid his head down, clicking. Ratchet gently rubbed the back of Perceptor's helm, who looked up at him with questioning optics.
"I'm sorry Perceptor, I really am. There was nothing we could do. We tried our best, but-"
Perceptor had turned to face Ratchet, placing his hand against the older mech. "It's ok, it's not your fault." He released his grip, curled next to the femme, and placed her arm around him again.
...
"This is rediculos, you can not be serious!" Ratchet was going punch the first mech stupid enough to come near him.
"There's not much else we can do sir."
"But we can't just throw him into a ranom orpahange and then forget about the poor sparkling!"
"Sir, the orphanage takes proper care of younglings and-"
"That's it though isn't it! They have younglings not sparklings, and the idiot mech who says they're the same thing is going to report to Prime in the condition I send them in!" The room was scilent.
"Sir-?"
"If you suggest another orphanage..."
"No, no, it's just... the father was never found. So... there might be a chance he's still alive, but the chances are slim."
"Even if we send out a broadcast, where will the sparkling stay?"
"I am not offering, I don't need to worry about some blubbering sparkling."
Ratchet scowled, "No one asked you to. Ovbiously, Perceptor (He glared at the group of mechs for not using Perceptor's name.) trusts me enough to talk to, he'll probably be more comforted with me."
No one voiced an oppinion, Ratchet took it as a yes, and left to collect Perceptor.