I'm on fire, I really am. See these major updating skills? :D I decided that this fic was in major need of an update. Who knows which will be next? :)

It is likely that this will be the last update for another while as I return to my studies. :P Exams; in a couple of weeks. o_O

I'll be back by the end of January, promise!

Okay, so, yeah. I have some things to mention.

Thank you all so much for your fantastic reviews! I tell you, they certainly give me the inspiration to continue. Thank you.

And secondly, Ratchet likes needles later on in the chapter. I'll admit that I have had no personal experience of Cybertronian medicine, and do not have the imagination to think something up. So yeah, there's going to be human parallels. :D

And books. I must tell you that these books ahead are not made of paper. Paper is FLIMSY. No, it's some sort of metallicy material.

I know; just think of anything the Cybertronians have as way superior to humans. Easy, right?

(This is totally why I'm not writing TF3. Even Orci & Kurtzman have some semblance of reason.)

Just suspend all logic, alright? Hope you enjoy!


Ratchet, Megatron decided, was too scary for his own good. He had spent absolutely ages searching for some kind of book on Seekers, and had found nothing. Nothing. This was possibly because Seekers were a rare sort, especially around these parts. He hadn't even seen any living Seekers, so he couldn't even ask one (not that he was sure of what he would say. 'Hi, there. Three sparklings of your race have been thrust upon me and I was hoping that you'd have some sort of guide to help me out?' seemed a little upfront and personal). No, Megatron concluded. He had found nothing, seen nobody, and was starting to fear for his health.

One last resort, however: the library. He hadn't been there in a very long time, but it was worth a shot. Anything was.

Standing just outside the entrance, Megatron glanced up into the sky and saw that the sun would soon be rising. His time was almost up. He found himself praying that Ratchet wouldn't kill him too painfully if he couldn't find anything. The fear of Ratchet would thrust resolve into anyone, so in he strode without hesitation.

The library was essentially a circular building. A very large, circular building that - Megatron was convinced- was also a maze. Tall shelves overlapped and intertwined, crossing the floor in the most bizarre spiral design. There were actually several floors- fifty-nine to be exact- with a staircase twisting around the perimeter of the room. An uncountable number of books were integrated on shelves in the actual outer wall itself.

Books were everywhere, and it was for precisely this reason that Megatron was completely stuck. How did one commence a search for something that was all around you? With a sigh, he ventured into the main spiral. "Now," he muttered, scanning the shelves in a vaguely hopeful manner. "Would you be under 'S' for Seekers? 'G' for Guide? 'H' for help?"

"Help?" somebody grunted, emerging from around the corner.

Megatron blinked. "I was just musing to myself."

"Hm. Do you need help?"

Honestly, Megatron wasn't sure this dangerous looking individual wanted to give him any. But, then again, he was pretty desperate. "...Yes."

The hulking stranger said nothing, but blinked moodily in acknowledgement. Megatron presumed it was acknowledgement.

"I'm looking for a book," he began, before realising that this was possibly The Most Pointless Thing To Say In A Library. He continued quickly. "A book about Seekers."

The mech sighed, then walked past with a jerk of the helm that indicated he should follow- so he did, and was led back the way he had come. He watched as the creamish sandy-brown mech seated himself upon a chair by the desk.

Megatron waited unusually patiently for a minute as the other sat there, motionless. "...Hello?"

"Oh. You're still here."

"Are you actually going to be of assistance?" Megatron was struck by sudden doubts. "Do you even work here?"

The scowling mech pointed at his chassis.

"...Bonecrusher. Lovely name," Megatron growled, glaring at the name label.

"Don't raise your voice," Bonecrusher glowered. "We are in a library."

"Great."

Bonecrusher scrawled something on a data-pad.

Megatron scowled. "Seriously, are you-"

"No angry looks, if you please. You'll damage the books with your dangerous vibes, not to mention the fragile atmosphere."

Repressing rudely witty comments on fragile atmospheres and dangerous vibes, the silver mech looked around in frustration. Press the generically red button if you want assistance, a plaque read. Perhaps someone with a working processor would come along. Extending a claw, he prodded the button firmly.

Bonecrusher looked up. "Can I help you?"

"Oh, honestly." He pressed the button again in the hope that someone else would appear, then marvelled. "That feels so good!"

"Squidgy, isn't it?" Bonecrusher agreed. "I could poke it all orn."

"I could touch it for longer than that."

"I'll be with you in just one moment," the creamish sandy-brown mech announced. "I just need to finish filling this order form in."

Megatron stole a glance at the data-pad. "...Odd name."

Bonecrusher agreed. "I've never even seen the mech, so he might be as odd as he sounds."

"The Fallen," Megatron pondered aloud. "Could be a nickname from his friends. Is he a regular?"

"Well, he keeps to himself, but orders fairly often."

"What does a mech read if his name is The Fallen?"

Bonecrusher's optics flicked up the data-pad. "...Scheming for Evil Masterminds and How to Remain Utterly Subtle Whilst Planning Devastation and Anarchy."

"...Cheerful stuff."

Bonecrusher scrolled up the document to check previous orders. "Last time it was How to Pick an Apprentice. Maybe he's writing the next bestseller."

"Sounds more like it could be a film to me," Megatron shrugged.

The other Cybertronian put aside his pen carefully. "How may I assist you?"

"I'm in a bit of an awkward position," the silver mech admitted. "And I need a guide that will help me look after a Seeker. A little one."

"A seekerlet?" Bonecrusher tapped his fingers together with a slight frown before his optics lit up brightly. "Floor twenty-four, Foxtrot Beta, seventh bookshelf along the bend, shelf second from the top."

Megatron nodded slowly. "...Right."

"Need further assistance, just call for me. Look on the floor," Bonecrusher added mysteriously.

Megatron determinedly turned and approached the staircase. Floor twenty-four it was, then. Now, technically, there was no physical floor but the ground level. However, the bookshelves along the stairway were definitely not on the ground floor. In addition, the stairway wasn't continuously ascending, and there were level sections. These flat areas were your floors.

Somehow, if Megatron remembered correctly, smaller walkways could extend off of the main stairway. He couldn't actually recall how to activate them- when he had last been in, various passcodes were necessary for each- but they allowed one to browse the ridiculously high ground level bookshelves. It was actually all quite clever, if not bamboozling to behold.

Megatron was sure he would have appreciated it more as a youngling had he not had Optimus to look after. Being as it was that there were no handrails- why? why?- sparkling-Optimus had enjoyed scaring his brother by standing perilously close to the stairs edge on his untrustworthy legs.

And jumping off.

Alright, so Megatron had caught him every time, but this wasn't the point. All he could presently see- wherever he looked- was a tiny blue and red sparkling considering testing his brother's reflexes. Megatron shook his helm with a huff, and Apparition-Optimus disappeared- only to reappear a little further up the staircase.

Sighing, Megatron began his ascent. "Why the sparkling books aren't on the ground floor, I don't know," he grumped to Apparition-Optimus, who beamed at him.

It was a very long walk to the twenty-fourth floor. Apparition-Optimus had contemplated jumping thirty-two times and Megatron was feeling pretty suicidal himself. However, finally reaching the level walkway indicating the right floor, he started looking for Foxtrot Beta. After a search, Megatron discovered that the desired section was actually in the centre of the library- or more accurately, on the bookshelves originating from the ground floor. The ones that could not be reached from the main staircase, to be exact. With a bite of the lip, he glanced over the edge. As he has suspected, it was a long way down. How a bookshelf could even be so tall, he didn't know.

"What now, Optimus? This bit is new to me."

Apparition-Optimus disappeared and reappeared by the edge with a giggle, then pouted.

Recognising the look, Megatron sighed and went to him. The instant he stepped near the edge, a translucent walkway unfolded before him, stretching to the main spiral of bookshelves. Megatron gingerly stepped onto it, then glanced down. Clearly the library wasn't too busy, as he could see right down the ground floor- and to the very domed top of the building. No other walkways in use, apparently. Hopefully this wasn't because they disappeared after a certain amount of time and sent you tumbling to your doom.

Noting that the sun had begun to rise, Megatron continued on his quest, navigating his way around the spiral, Apparition-Optimus toddling just ahead of him. After a brief journey, Apparition-Optimus suddenly stopped.

"Foxtrot...Beta!" Megatron read with delight. "Aren't you a clever little Prime?"

There was a nod before Apparition-Optimus glanced upwards.

"Second from the top?" Megatron muttered, eyeing the monolith bookshelf before him. "I can't reach that!"

Apparition-Optimus pointed to the floor, and Megatron saw a strip running along the surface. Leaning down, he pressed it. "...I don't even want to know how you know so much. I assume this should call Bonecrusher-"

"It does," Bonecrusher replied slightly unexpectedly.

Megatron subspaced the fusion cannon that had materialised on reflex. "How did you-"

"I despise inefficiency."

"...Right." Suspending all logic, Megatron pointed a claw upwards. "I can't reach that shelf."

Bonecrusher eyed it. "Nor can I. Normally I reach like so-" Managing to alarm the silver mech yet again, a fork unfolded from Bonecrusher's back and extended to delicately select a book from a high shelf. "...but the second from highest is beyond my reach."

Megatron considered all of the options. "I could fly up."

"You can fly?"

"...Would I say it if I couldn't? It seems to be the only choice."

"The flight-capables do tend to do it," Bonecrusher revealed. "But under no circumstance incinerate these shelves with your thrusters."

"...why on Cybertron would I do that?"

"I don't know. But I've got a feeling it's going to happen one day, and I hate vandals."

Megatron shared a worried look with Apparition-Optimus before flying up. "...Here?" Listening, he definitely saw Bonecrusher reply, but couldn't hear what the other mech had said. "What?"

Bonecrusher's optics narrowed dangerously, and Megatron remembered that they were in a library. There would be no shouting or raised voices. Glancing up, he saw the next floor a little way above him, and decided to ascend to just below this height. That would provide him with the shelves near the top of floor twenty-four. "Why aren't they even labelled?"

Sighing, he examined the books. Oddly, there wasn't very much. A couple of those hideous historical textbook types, some on language, and some beautifully illustrated books that Megatron was sorry he didn't have time to read. There seemed to be just one dusty and battered book on Seeker behaviour, however, so he returned to Bonecrusher with it.

"You found something?"

"There really is almost nothing there. Do you know if anyone's taken some out already?"

"...Dayshift," Bonecrusher spat, almost as if it were a curse. "It'll be dayshift."

Megatron decided not to enquire further, and they started walking back.

"...Who were you talking to? I heard you speaking, you see," Bonecrusher frowned.

"My brother," Megatron replied, instinctively glancing downwards. It was strangely sad to discover that Apparition-Optimus was nowhere to be seen. "Not that he's here- oh, now I sound psychotic."

"Mental Diseases, floor forty. I'm well acquainted with the level. I could give you the exact titl-"

"Maybe another time?"

"Oh, alright." Bonecrusher seemed pleased. "What's your brother called?"

"Optimus," Megatron answered automatically, his attentions diverted by the walkway disappearing back into the staircase as they stepped off of it.

Bonecrusher didn't even blink. "Nice name."

"...Yeasss- you don't know either of us?"

"No. I don't know many people, really. I keep to myself."

Megatron considered this, and wasn't sure if it was such a bad thing not to be known. At least Bonecrusher wasn't pretending to like him or doing what he said simply because of his status.

"Ah! I'll show you my collection!" Bonecrusher brightened.

"I don't have much time," Megatron began. "I really must leave."

"It'll only take a moment, and it's on our way."

Megatron resisted the urge to transform and have a speedier exit. They continued down the stairs and eventually came to the ground floor. Bonecrusher led him behind the desk and opened a door. They both peeked inside and Bonecrusher gestured proudly around a room full of mounted body parts, namely thrusters. "If someone vandalises a book, I make sure they don't do it again."

Megatron's entire body twitched. "...I must go."

"I'll find you if you damage that book."

"Would I do such a thing? Do you seriously not know me?"

"The only people I know are my friends back there." Bonecrusher nodded at his collection room. "Should I know you?"

Megatron wondered if he should get Prowl and Ratchet to check the library out. He was sure collecting limbs was illegal and Ratchet needed to meet someone as deranged as he. "...I'll just take this book then."

"Very well."

"Bring your brother sometime," Bonecrusher added, "As long as he isn't a vandal. I hate sparkling vandals."

Megatron hurried out of the library. He had an hour or two before Ratchet was at liberty to dismantle him, and planned to spend it well. He would-

Glancing at the book from the library, he had the sudden feeling he'd seen it before. And, with a growling sigh of frustration, he realised he had. It was simply an earlier edition of the book Swindle had given him.

It seemed that the world was against him. However, resigning himself to his fate was unacceptable. Megatron proudly lifted his chin and snorted derisively at... well, anything against him. He was not one to bow to life, no.

Unwillingly to Ratchet, maybe, but not to life.

So it was that Megatron alarmed some passers-by with his derisive snorting and so it was that he strode back to the main base with a determined air. So it was that he sat down in the rec. room and so it was that he pulled both books out of subspace.

So it was that he discovered that the older version had scribblings all over it- some of it helpful, some of it just plain rude. Happily, it seemed like the guide was a good one, so he began to read whilst remaining very conscious of the time. Unhappily, it also seemed that someone else was oblivious to his danger.

"Hiya, Megsy!"

The mech closed his optics wearily. "Hello, Jazz."

The saboteur threw himself onto the seat Megatron was currently occupying. "Whatcha doing?"

"...Something very important." Megatron replied, then continued reading.

He saw Jazz's helm slowly loom closer as the mech read the cover. Silver antennae twitched. "Seekers? Why you reading 'bout them?"

"None of your business," Megatron hit him fairly gently with the book. "Don't you have someone to annoy?"

"...Today is your day," Jazz beamed, flinging out his arms.

"Hurrah. I really need to read this, you know. Do you want Ratchet to hurt me?"

"I did not understand the gravity of the situation," the saboteur gasped. "I apologise." He sat, twiddling his fingers, and watched the perfectly concentrating Megatron for a while. "...Megatronnnnnn..."

"Yes, Jazz?" The other mech didn't even look up.

"Why are you reading about Seeeeeeeekers?"

"Because I have to."

Jazz considered this new information. "...Why do you have toooooooooooo?"

"Like I said, none of your business."

The saboteur sulked for a while before brightening. "I knew a Seeker not so long ago!"

Megatron was suddenly interested. "Really?"

"Yep."

"Where could I find him?"

"Absolutely no idea."

"...You don't know?"

"I only knew him for a minute or so," Jazz sniffed. "Little thing he was. So small and cute. He could have been a mini-Jazz, you know-!"

Megatron sighed and continued reading.

"Don't you even care? He was so beautiful! I can't believe you just let Ratchet take him away!"

"Yes," Megatron agreed monotonically. "I can't believe it."

Jazz's somewhat incredible processor set to work, and he narrowed his optics. "You're reading a book on Seekers."

"So I am," the other mech agreed.

"That sparkling was a Seeker."

"...So he was."

"...You don't even care what happened to him."

"I d-! Where are you going with this?"

Jazz jumped to his feet triumphantly. "Where is he?"

Megatron froze. "...Excuse me?"

"The Seeker! Where is he?" Jazz dropped to the floor and began scanning under chairs.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do! You've got that Seeker somewhere, and I will find him."

Megatron contemplated locking the saboteur in a cupboard, or better still, knocking him out and locking him in a cupboard. "You're insane."

"No, you are! That's why y'fear Ratchy! Because he's going to tear you apart once he finds out!" Jazz lifted Megatron's arm as if the Seeker could be hiding there.

Megatron's claws spasmed. "Put my arm down."

"Ah, am I close? Say hot or cold!" Jazz dived onto the mech's lap and started searching behind his back.

"You're about to die."

"...I'd say that was fairly hot! Boiling, in fact!"

"No, just very irritating."

"Like a heated rash?" Jazz was somehow sandwiched between the back of the seat and Megatron, upside-down.

Megatron suddenly realised that he definitely had somewhere to be, so he stood. "Goodbye, Jazz."

The small mech clung onto his waist. "Megsy, no! Where is he?"

Megatron suddenly felt an urge to be evil overcome him. "I left him with Prowl."

"Prowl?" Jazz frowned. "You gave a sparkling to Prowl?"

"No safer place."

The saboteur instantly let go and bounced onto his own feet before racing away. "PRRRROOOWLIE!"

Megatron commed the poor mech immediately as he headed for the medbay. "Prowl, wherever you are, run."

/...Jazz?/ Prowl sounded horrified. /How long do I have?/

"He's already gone."

/Curses. This time I'm going to make it hard. He won't find me so easily./

Wishing him all the luck in the Universe, Megatron found himself at the medbay. Entering, he met with Ratchet's glare. "I'm not late!"

"Neither are you early," the CMO hissed, some sort of medical tool in hand.

"Doesn't that mean he's on time?"

"Optimus?" Megatron blinked. "What are you doing here?"

The pouting Prime wiggled his fingers in a wave. "Jazz tricked me."

Megatron remembered that Optimus had previously stabbed himself and hurried to him. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, fine. It's a load of fussing about nothiiing!" Optimus cringed as Ratchet poked one of his injuries.

"Nothing?" the CMO scowled. "You call multiple stab wounds nothing?"

"They're hardly multiple," Prime replied miserably. "Only two."

"Which is more than one."

"But-"

"No. I'm going to have words with Ironhide, and words with you once I've finished."

"...Yes, Ratch," Optimus sighed, glancing at Ironhide. The black mech was sitting on a berth despondently. "It's okay, 'hide! Ratch says I'm not dying!"

"You could be," Ironhide muttered. "This is my fault."

"It isn't, not really!" Prime suddenly realised that Megatron was in the medbay. "Megsy- what are you doing here? Are you injured?"

"No, I'm fine-"

"He has come because he is a failure," Ratchet explained.

"I am not a failure! None of it was my fault!" Megatron saw a confused Optimus blink. "...I-"

"So are you going to blame the sparkling?"

Megatron pouted at Ratchet. "Yes, I am. It is his fault."

Prime was wide-opticed. "You have a sparkling? You never said!"

"That is because I never did."

"But- oh, I'm confused."

Megatron realised an explanation would be easier if the Seekers were around. "...Where are they, Ratch?"

"I killed them and used their parts to decorate my room." The CMO didn't even look away from Optimus' injury.

Optimus' optics widened again. "Ratch!"

"Not really. I did, after a short period of observation, lock them in my office."

"Because they didn't recharge," Ironhide pointed out.

"This is true. I blame some loud idiot for that." Ratchet patched a gaping split in Optimus' abdomen. "Go and check on the beasts, will you?"

Megatron beat a hasty retreat to the CMO's office and opened the door. "...Where are they?"

"The incubator," Ratchet replied.

"An incubator? Why? To stop them wandering off?"

"Are they in isolation because they're diseased?" Ironhide asked, frowning. "If they are, they're not coming near Optimus until you're sure that they're healthy."

"I want to keep them in a constant environment," Ratchet hissed. "And protect them from various problems such as infection or over-handling from certain mechs on base. And, if you must know, it is far easier to observe them, thus allowing me to assess their conditions accurately."

"Infections, Ratch? In your medbay? It must be a filthy place," Ironhide sniggered.

A sour Ratchet glared intensely at one of Optimus' wounds. "The only filth that comes in here totes cannons."

Megatron scowled. "Meaning who?"

Ratchet looked at them both, cackled, then returned to his work.

"I also have a cannon!" Optimus remembered. "I have two!"

Ironhide cuffed him gently. "We'll stick to one weapon at a time for now."

"...One orn I'll kick your aft. And yours, too." Prime raised a mock-angry fist at Megatron. "But not you, Ratchet."

"Wise move. Be quiet, Megatron. The incubator deafens most sound, but you don't seem to have limitations on noise levels. I know it's too much to ask, but they might be recharging."

Megatron quietly entered the office and looked around, the incubator catching his optics almost instantly. Well, it had to be the incubator, unless Ratchet kept Seekers in random places for fun. Deciding not to let his processor dwell on this thought, he crossed the room. The incubator was built into the wall, the side facing Megatron transparent, presumably so Ratchet could watch them for fu-

No. With a vicious shake of the helm, Megatron reminded his processor that Ratchet did not take fun in beings suffering. Not sparklings, anyway- and assumedly these sparklings were not suffering. He wouldn't put much past Ratchet, though. He had once discovered sparkling-Optimus in stasis cuffs. Ratchet's 'excuse' had been that he had been too hyper.

Never mind. Megatron peered in and was relieved to count three Seekers (phew) in a sort of bundle in a corner. The blue and black sparklings were curled up around each other, the latter chewing the blue's aft gently in recharge. Wide-awake and huddled between them both, the beige Seeker looked torn between fear and misery.

Upon seeing Megatron, his optics widened and he drew back between the others.

"Hello, you," the mech rumbled softly, tapping the window gently. "...You probably don't remember me, but I'm a friend of Ratchet's. Not that he has friends." He could see the mechling observing him closely and decided to sit it out. Looking around for a suitable spot, he saw Ratchet's desk and eyed it suspiciously before leaning on it in a mechly fashion. "I'll wait for you. As long as it takes."

Helm tilting slightly to one side, the sparkling blinked, then wriggled out of the Seeker-bundle. Sitting up on his haunches for a moment, he then navigated his way on all fours to the front of the incubator. Megatron watched as he bumped into the transparent wall and sneezed, then ferociously glared at the wall as if it had personally offended him. Personal offences placed aside for the moment, he returned his attentions to the outside world and re-saw Megatron. After shrinking away briefly, the mechling narrowed his optics a little and seemed to pout, reaching out to scratch on the barrier. Megatron was sure he heard a whine.

"...Ratch?"

"What now?" The CMO sounded a little terse. Perhaps Ironhide had not let up on the insults.

"Can I get one out?"

"Is he recharging?"

"No."

"Did you wake him purposely?"

"No!" Megatron hissed indignantly.

"Fine, then. But not for long."

"...How does this open?" The silver mech muttered to himself, eyeing the incubator.

The Seeker scratched the window impatiently.

"Stop, you. I'm working on it." Megatron noticed a small indent on the wall beside it. "Ah."

As he pressed it, most of the window slowly slid downwards into the wall. The sparkling immediately tried to jump out, but failed miserably and rebounded off of the window, landing on his aft.

"The window doesn't all disappear because then we could fall out and smack onto the floor," Megatron realised. "...Or jump out."

The Seeker (now audible, hurrah) shrieked at him and clawed frantically at the window again.

Megatron (remembering the advice in the guide) slowly reached in. The sparkling did cringe momentarily, but protested no further as he was gently lifted out. Megatron poked the indent again and made sure that the window fully closed on the snoozling seekerlets within. Turning his full attentions to the beige, he waved a claw in its face. "No biting."

The Seeker immediately tried to lunge for his claw with a tiny growl.

Megatron prodded his face. "I just said no."

The mechling frowned and opened his mouth. Some sort of creaking yowling noise came forth.

Megatron raised an optic ridge. "That was nice."

A confused sort of look was the response he gained, so Megatron brought the sparkling into a more comfortable position by his chassis. "Better?"

There was a surprised squeak before the mechling hurriedly- yet nervously- snuggled into him. The yowly-creaky noise arose again, but much more softly.

"Shall we go and see Ratchet? Optimus is there too, you know."

The sparkling didn't seem to care at all, but Megatron exited the office anyway.

Ratchet finally looked up from his Optimus-patching. "I might have known. You and that beige thing are like magnets."

Prime looked up from being Ratchet-patched. "That's the sparkling? ...I swear he's familiar."

"He is," Megatron clarified. "He was at that facility we raided."

"Why is he here?"

"A very good question," Ratchet muttered darkly.

"I couldn't leave him with that lunatic," Megatron justified. "Besides, once his family are found, there won't be a problem."

"He's not staying?" Prime was getting confused.

Megatron shook his helm. "Only until he can go home."

"He can be home now!" Optimus beseeched, instantly giving Ratchet an intense dosage of Large Pleading Optics.

"What, and his little friends too? No."

"Friends?" Optimus mouthed over Ratchet's helm.

Megatron held up two claws.

"Only two! And we can bring them up- they'll be perfect additions to our family," Prime continued. "Ironhide, just think how useful a couple of Seekers would be!"

"...They'd be good target practice," the black mech nodded. "There's not many aerial targets around here."

Ratchet rolled his optics. "Just think how fun it would be to raise three sparklings at once around a militant base."

"You backing away from a challenge, Ratch?"

"Do not test me, Optimus. They have families who are looking for them."

Prime sighed. "And if nobody comes? What then?"

"I suppose arrangements will have to be made. Elsewhere."

Somebody howled from the corridor. "Ratchyyyyyy!"

"Oh, Pit. Office," the CMO hissed.

Megatron didn't need a second invitation and dived in.

Jazz skidded into the medbay an astro-second later. "...Is Prowlie hidin' in here?"

"No."

"In y'office?"

"Go near my office and I shall make sure your mother receives all of your parts in a small box."

"...I'll leave that office. Have y'seen him?"

"Your deranged competitions with Prowl are none of my concern, and nor will I help either of you."

Jazz retreated to the door, scanning the room one last time. "...Would y'know if he'd sneaked in?"

"JAZZ! Go!"

As the saboteur wisely disappeared, Megatron glanced at the sparkling who looked slightly horrified. "Ratchet does have a nice side, you know. Just be cute and stay on the right side of him."

"Bring him back here," the CMO demanded. "Immediately."

With a roll of the optics, Megatron did so. "He's jumpy. I'd watch your Wrath around him."

"Pehh."

Optimus watched the sparkling curiously. "What's his name?"

Megatron was determined to show off some of his new knowledge. "Traditionally, Seekers don't get names until a later point in development. Their names are given to them according to their individual styles."

Ratchet blinked. "I'm almost impressed."

That was damn near praise from the mech.

"Thank you."

"Oh, but surely!" Optimus was excited. "Can't we give them names?"

"They have names." Megatron replied indignantly. "This one is beige."

The Seeker squawked.

Ironhide snorted. "Good one."

"At least temporarily," Prime pleaded.

"Their parents would not be happy." Ratchet firmly ended the conversation.

Optimus wasn't done. "They won't knoooow-! If they aren't going to be here for long, can't we have some fun?"

"I don't see any harm in it," Ironhide reasoned.

Bombarded by Prime's assault and backup, the CMO huffed. "...Fine. But you are staying put for observation yourself."

Optimus didn't even care. "What are you calling beige, Megs?"

"I'm not calling him anything."

The sparkling shrieked in a hideously piercing manner at him.

"...That was most possibly the loudest yet," Megatron congratulated, and placed him on an empty berth. "I'm just going to check on Prowl."

Prime laughed. "Is it your fault Jazz is after him again?"

"...Yeasss," Megatron admitted, walking to the door. "But I think I know where he might be."

There was a yowl, and something thwacked into his leg. Megatron looked down and saw the Seeker cuddling it fiercely. "Oh, what is this?"

"He likes you. It happens."

"He does not like me. We do not know each other."

"Love works in many ways," Ironhide sniggered.

"Shut up, old one." Megatron glared at the Seeker. "Unhand me."

The mechling wailed quietly and buried his helm into Megaton's leg.

Ratchet patted Optimus' abdomen and stared at it judgmentally. "...You'll do. Go and sit over there with your trigger-happy guardian."

He turned to see Megatron glowering at the sparkling, who was refusing to look back. "What are you doing?"

"I am challenging him to a staring competition. Currently I am winning."

"...Why?"

"If I win, he subconsciously will recognise me as dominant and will let go."

"Sounds like a great idea, but you're not doing it now."

"Wh- why? I'm about to achieve victory!"

"If you leave this room now, he's going to have a shrieking tantrum. And my audio receptors would prefer a nice, quiet, occasionally shrieky day. Not to mention he shouldn't encounter any stresses."

Megatron scowled desperately. "But-"

"No. Prowl will be just fine. Get back in here and sit down."

The silver mech let rip a snarling sigh and threw himself onto a berth on his back. The mechling squeaked delightedly and scurried up to Megatron's abdomen. There he sat and began yowling.

Megatron was determined not to be bothered.

"...He sounds like he's in pain," Ironhide worried.

"Is he dying?" Optimus frowned.

"He's hungry, idiots." Ratchet was, of course, the font of knowledge. "Ah, I know what we can do."

"Tell me this will be easy," Megatron sighed.

"You're going to do it, so it's going to be supremely easy for me."

"Depends on what it is," the silver mech replied, optics closed. "I could make it hard for you."

He suddenly felt Ratchet cuff him. "...Ow."

"I wasn't able to do this earlier because there was a fit of hysterics."

"I'll give you a fit of hysterics," Megatron grumbled, sitting up and rubbing his helm.

"Ah, we'll abuse his trust of you."

Megatron paused mid-rub. "Excuse me?"

Ratchet snickered. "You're worried! You do care what he thinks of you. Anyway. Earlier, I was going to hook them up to fluid nutrients."

"Fabulous."

"Except they wouldn't let me. Needles."

"Needles."

"Apparently sharp objects stabbing into the energon lines doesn't amuse them. So you're going to do it."

Megatron gaped. "What twisted logic is this?"

"Ratchet Logic." Ironhide sighed. "The woe and wonder of our world."

"He'll let you do it," the CMO persisted, suddenly thrusting something into his hands. "And trust me, they need nutrients."

Megatron sighed. "Just stab the sharp bit into an energon line, shall I?"

"That one." Ratchet pointed at the sparkling's arm. "I'll watch, just in case."

The mechling blinked at Megatron.

"...Are you going to give me your arm?" Megatron extended a claw to him. "Oh, you are. Wonderful."

The sparkling, reaching out to the proffered claw, jabbered at him.

"Ratchet wants me to viciously and cruelly stab this into you without remorse," the mech explained. "But it'll make you big and strong."

The CMO rolled his optics, but watched closely as the Seeker suddenly saw the needle and shrieked in alarm.

"No, it's fine," Megatron insisted. "Just trust me on this one."

"He looks a bit hysterical," Ironhide edged in front of Optimus warily, cannons slowly whirring.

"You're not getting out of this," Megatron told the sparkling, firmly pinning him to the berth. "And no shooting, Ironhide."

The mechling started shaking, and desperately looked at him with a whine.

Ratchet suddenly came over. "I'd better actually do it. We don't want it to hurt him after all this performance."

Megatron was very grateful, but this didn't last long.

The CMO was just about to insert the needle when a shattering howl burst forth from the mechling.

"What a baby," Ratchet sighed, swiftly doing so. "I hadn't even done it."

There was no actual sign that the sparkling realised that Ratchet had finished, and he simply continued screaming relentlessly.

"...Primus," Optimus concluded, peering around Ironhide's bulk. "Perhaps we shouldn't get on his bad side."

The black warrior narrowed his optics. "If he takes one step over here, he's mine."

Ratchet connected the needle to a tube and sighed in relief. "Hysterics I can deal with."

"How?" Megatron asked, hastily trying to calm the bawling demon.

The CMO smiled in an unsettlingly genuine manner. "Sedatives."


That startling image concludes our third chapter. :3

Next time we'll find out just what Prowl is up to, as well as the boys on base spending some time with the Seekers.

It's going to be fun. Hope you'll join me! :D

Happy New Year, everybody!