Title: A Tail or Two (Chapter 3/6)
Fandom: Transformers G1 but heavily AU
Pairing/Characters: Sideswipe+Sunstreaker, Ratchet, OCs
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Rated high for mentions of dog fighting and abuse. May be triggery for some people. Alternating POV S
ummary: Red gets in trouble. Ratchet to the rescue! Maybe?
Disclaimer: This is a piece of fiction. No harm was intended in the creation of this work. All rights belong to the original creators.
Much to Sideswipe's disappointment, they did not see the vet again the day of the tournament. They were corralled back into their caged room and left there. Dimly, they could hear the roar of the crowd as TopNotch and the other owners brought out their best for demonstrations. Sideswipe occupied himself by pacing back and forth in front of the door, stilling whenever he heard a sound out in the hall.
He's not coming, Sunstreaker said finally after watching Sideswipe pace for upwards of an hour. Sunstreaker was curled up in the corner with his back against the wall, optics lazily following Sideswipe's motions.
He could still come, Sideswipe replied, not even looking back at his brother. He abruptly threw himself to the floor, gaze still fixed on the door.
He's just a vet, Sideswipe. He's not going to come and whisk us away. He was here doing his job and that's all.
Then why did he come today? Sideswipe snarled, shifting on the floor to glare at Sunstreaker.
Sunstreaker shrugged. Curiosity, maybe. Why are you so fixated on him anyway? Because he gave you a few scritches behind the audios?
It was Sideswipe's turn to shrug. I don't know. It was more than that. It was… Sideswipe trailed off, at a loss to explain the connection he had felt with the medic. He's intakes heaved out a large gust of air as he hauled himself to his feet and trotted over to his brother. He laid back down, half atop Sunstreaker and wormed his head beneath his twin's.
Sideswipe shivered, feeling lonely despite his twin's solid presence wrapped around him. There's more out there than this, I remember that.
This is what we were built for, Sides, Sunstreaker said quietly. We're not lap dogs.
Well, maybe I'm just tired of being a dog! Sideswipe whined and buried his head farther beneath Sunstreaker's. I mean, do you like it here? Stuck like this?
Sunstreaker shifted uneasily. I can't remember as much as you can. Here's as good as any place. I've got you, anyway.
Sideswipe raised his head, licking his brother's muzzle. I'm glad we've got each other. But I know there are better things. I just know it.
The yellow dog nudged Sideswipe's head back down. We'll see, Sides. We'll see.
Several more days passed, and Ratchet moved on with his studies. He didn't have the funds to continue attending the dog fighting tournaments, so he relied on Brightspark and Coda to report back to him about how the brothers were doing. The other two residents rarely interacted with Red and Yellow; the dogs were considered the best for a reason and rarely got injured enough to need medical assistance. Nevertheless, one of the two would always stop by and peek in on the dogs for Ratchet.
So when Coda commed Ratchet early in the cycle on his day off, he thought it was a little odd but didn't think much of it.
Ratchet here, he said, distracted by the display of datapads in front of him.
Ratchet! You need to get here quick!
The vet's attention immediately sharpened in on Coda's communications. What is it? He asked, already moving out of the shop and dropping into his transport form. He quickly merged with the traffic heading in the direction of the arena.
Red's been hurt badly. It must have happened sometime during the night, because there were no scheduled fights today.
What are his injuries? Ratchet demanded.
His right rear limb is crushed from the hip down. His pelvic struts are shattered, and one of his back struts is cracked. He can't walk. Coda's voice choked up. TopNotch wants to put him down.
NO! Ratchet shouted. No, you can't let him, Ratchet repeated, trying to calm down. Do whatever it takes, but stall him until I can get there.
Ratchet… Coda trailed off. Ratchet, this is bad. He's lost a lot of energon, and his fuel pump keeps misfiring. Maybe it would be best if we did as TopNotch asked.
At least give me until I get there, Ratchet pleaded. Please.
There was a long pause before Coda replied. All right. We'll do what we can. 'Spark's gonna meet you at the back door; he'll have a visitor's pass ready for you.
Thank you. Thank you, Coda. You don't know what this means to me, Ratchet replied.
You're right. I don't know what this means to you. I've never seen this dog be anything but aggressive. His packmate is even worse. Right now Yellow's in isolation, sedated, because he nearly tore the door down trying to get to Red, Coda informed him.
Ratchet sped up, whipping around corners. There's another side to Red; to both of them. I know you don't believe me, but there is. I'll be there as soon as I can.
We'll be waiting, was the final reply, and then she ended the communication.
Ratchet squashed down his swirling emotions. He had a duty as a medic to view Red's injuries as objectively as possible. If it was as serious as Coda had suggested, than euthanasia might truly be the best option. Then again, Ratchet was the best junior surgeon that the Academy had seen in years. If there was a chance…
It took a few more minutes before he could arrive. He sped up to the visitor's door and waited until the last possible second to transform, sliding to a stop in front of his classmate, Brightspark. The large brown and tan mech nodded at Ratchet, throwing a visitor's badge his way. Ratchet tossed it over his head, indicating for 'Spark to lead him back.
They moved through the halls quickly, but quietly. The Arena was very strict on visitor policy, and Ratchet had no idea how his classmates had managed to get him approved so quickly.
When they arrived at the dogs' cage, Ratchet's spark grew cold. An energon trail led up to the door from the opposite end of the hallway, as if something had been dragged, leaking, the whole way there. Deep gouges bit into the concrete doorframe as well as the floor just outside the doorway.
'Spark saw Ratchet's look and explained. "They pulled Yellow out, but even with the collar, he was fighting every step of the way. We finally had to dart him," the other student said, in his deep baritone.
Just then, they both heard Coda's voice from inside, cajoling one moment and then cursing the next. Ratchet rushed inside. He paused, standing just behind Coda, optics automatically cataloguing every injury, even as he felt his spark flutter in despair. It was bad; Coda hadn't been over exaggerating.
"Ratchet! Good! You're here," Coda exclaimed, running a hand over her faceplates. "Maybe you can do something, because I can't even get close to the damn thing." She threw a wrench to the side and it landed by Red's head. The dog's wide optics rolled as he scrambled at the ground with his front paws, unable to find purchase. He was whining, short distressed yips that tugged at the spark.
"At first, he didn't seem to care that we were working on him. Then all of a sudden, he flipped out. Bites anything that comes close."
Ratchet leaned down, ignoring Red's lip snarl. He listened carefully to the arrhythmic sounds of the dog's fuel pump, reaching out a hand to place on Red's chestplates to feel it. Ratchet abruptly yanked his hand back as Red's head sinuously darted forward, teeth clacking on empty air.
Almost absently, Ratchet reached down, picked up the wrench and swept it upside Red's head. The other students winced at the echoing 'clank' that rang out. "Stop that. I can't help you if you're going to bite my hand off," Ratchet scolded, removing his kit from subspace.
Red's head dropped back to the ground, snuffling. With one heave, he pushed himself sternal as his optics gained more awareness. An inquisitive whine emerged, made all the more pitiful by the ripped left audio flap that hung useless, framing his face.
"Yeah, it's me. Think you're gonna let me work on you now?" Ratchet asked, removing components from his medical kit.
"Ratchet…" Coda warned, as Ratchet reached back out and laid a hand on the dog's chest. But this time Red did nothing more than lean forward, nostrils working as he snuffled along Ratchet's arm.
"Primus," Brightspark breathed, both students amazed to see the dog's muzzle nudge at Ratchet's elbow joint, glossa coming out in a weak lick.
"I'm worried about this fuel pump," Ratchet said, not even noticing. "It's probably misfiring due to the loss of energon," he said, eyeing the large pool that the dog's lower half was laying in. "Did you manage to clamp off those distal lines?"
Coda shook her head, watching in astonishment as the dog attempted to drag himself closer to the vet, almost appearing as if he wanted to climb into Ratchet's lap.
"No, that was about the time that he went berserk."
Ratchet's sensors indentified the cracked back strut, and he pushed at Red until the dog was lying flat on his side. "Stay there," he commanded. "Much more twisting on your spinal struts and that cracked one will break. Then you won't have any motion at all in your lower half."
Red's tail weakly thumped twice before laying still. His intakes heaved out a large sigh as he subsided under Ratchet's probing hands.
Even though the dog was not fighting him any longer, Red still seemed restless. He couldn't seem to stop his head from moving around, optics searching every corner of the room he could see from his limited position. His front limbs twitched, blade claws flexing minutely. Ratchet looked up from the shattered pelvic struts as a thought occurred to him.
"When did he start fighting you? Was it right after Yellow was sedated?"
Coda and Brightspark looked at each other, and the petite femme answered. "You know, yeah. Right after."
Ratchet shook his head, lipplates moving together in an unhappy frown. "Same models, my aft," he swore. "Can you bring Yellow in here?"
Brightspark's optics widened, and he glanced into the hallway. "But… it's crazed."
"He's sedated," Ratchet said, stressing the pronoun. "He shouldn't be any danger."
Coda shook her head. "Why?"
Ratchet looked from one to the other, even as his hands went through the automatic motion of choosing and loading a local anesthetic. "I think they're twins. Spark-split even."
Coda shook her head again, this time in denial. "No, there's only been one documented case in beast mechs and…"
"It won't cause any harm to bring Yellow in here. So please. Just… just bring him in," Ratchet said, speaking over her. Coda huffed, her arms folding over her chassis and glaring. Brightspark glanced from Ratchet to Coda and shaking his head slightly, he left the room.
"Do you even think you can save him?" Coda asked.
"It's worth a try," Ratchet replied. "All right now, gonna spike your lines, make this next part a little more comfortable," he informed Red, smoothing a palm along the dog's flank. The needle slid in to the dog's lower back port smoothly, and almost instantly, Red relaxed too tight cables.
"You know they're gladiator dogs, right?" Coda asked. "Why are you going to so much effort?"
"They didn't ask to be."
"He's a killer! A mindless beast!" Coda protested.
"He's a living creature in pain," Ratchet retorted, looking up at her sharply. "If you can't recognize that, then maybe you're in the wrong profession."
While Coda spluttered, Brightspark came back in, lugging Yellow's large frame. He gently set the other dog down next to Red. He immediately sniffed his brother's recharging form, nudging it. He growled softly, watching the other dog's intakes slowly move and then settled back down, content that Yellow was not harmed.
"All right, let's get these lines clamped off," Ratchet said, selecting several large hemostats. He pushed aside dangling metal and torn cables, locating and pinching off the main energon line in Red's inner thigh. Ratchet clamped off two more minor lines and wiped away the internal structures as well as he could, eyeing the lines critically.
"That should hold for now," he announced.
"For now," Brightspark echoed. "He'll need surgery. Probably a transfusion. TopNotch's not going to want to spend money on him for a lengthy recovery."
Red raised his head, optics flicking from one mech to another. Ratchet unconsciously reached out and soothingly patted Red on the shoulder.
"He's stable. The surgery would be complicated, but I've done something similar. He has a good chance," Ratchet reported.
Before Brightspark could respond, he jolted forward, pushed from behind by another mech entering the room. TopNotch came to a stop, optics observing the scene in front of him. They finally landed on Red, who growled and flashed his teeth.
Reaching out a hand, TopNotch pointed at Red. "Why isn't that dog offlined yet?"