AN: I don't own Transformers-but the ideas in here are mine, including Evensoar. Use without permission and Frenzy goes after your computer.

Also, sparkshock is the equivlant to severe heartache and grief.


sorrow

Two orns passed. Ratchet had gotten the majority of the internal repairs done on Jetfire, patching up neural relays, replacing circuit boards, and the wiring. Primus on high, the yellow CMO (and his lackey) were swearing that they never wanted to see another wire again. Throughout all of this Jetfire was in peaceful repose, something that Ratchet knew was just a façade. He knew sparkshock when he saw it, something that had gotten Red Alert's circuits in a tangle when he'd broached the subject.

"Sparkshock?! Are you crazy?!" To this Ratchet chose wisely not to respond-if Red Alert fried himself again, he would make First Aid do the repairs.

"He's got all the signs, Optimus. I'm willing to bet my own spark that everything that may have happened to him, happened very recently, and he hasn't had a chance to fully grieve as yet."

"Can you help him?" The Autobot leader asked.

"Once he gets the worst of it out of the way, then sure. He looks like he doesn't need much, just someplace quiet, something to do, and Energon." Ratchet answered.

"Do what you feel is best then." Accordingly, Ratchet had then set up a waste receptacle next to Jetfire's berth, and ordered First Aid to check on the Seeker every spare moment he had. He had to break sooner or later…


First Aid had finally been able to steal a joor for himself-not completely for himself, but the Protectorbot was willing to take whatever he could get. Settled down in a chair next to Jetfire's berth, the white and red mech was going though a bookcube, when a low sound had him looking up.

"Hmm?" On the berth, Jetfire was slowly twitching as his systems rebooted, optics unshuttering.

"…wha…"

Sir, you may want to get down here, he's onlining. First Aid texted quickly to his mentor before setting the bookcube to the side and going over to his patient.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, gently placing one hand on Jetfire's arm. "I'm First Aid, and you're in the main medical bay of Iacon-hey!" For Jetfire had suddenly lurched upwards into a sitting postion, jerking away from the younger mech, his optics wide in shock. "Calm down!" The Seeker was trembling violently, those blue optics-blue?-locked into First Aid's own set of orbs, his faceplates set into an expression of horror.


It was Evensoar. Primus, it was Evensoar-back from the dead to kill him-it had been his fault, if only he hadn't come down on his friend so hard he wouldn't be dead-Starscream wouldn't hate him-wouldn't have left him alone-he wouldn't be alone-wouldn't be alone…

"You're a failure!"

Evensoar, NO! SAY SOMETHING!"

"I don't even know why I even was friends with you in the first place!"

"The only way you're leaving here is in a body bag!"

EvensoarEvensoarThe world spun, and Jetfire felt his tanks lurch. He barely noticed the medic quickly grabbing the waste receptacle and shoving it in front of him before his systems started to purge violently, as if all the sickness and grief had manifested itself into waste liquid that needed to be expelled from his frame right now. Nor was he aware of the tears flowing down his faceplates, or when he had finished the harsh racking sobs he was uttering, the keening moans coming from his vocalizer. His world had narrowed down to this emotional purge, for the worst of the grief to come out so he could start living again…

He also didn't notice that yellow had replaced white and red, not speaking any words of comfort but just simply being there, a relief for pain in and of itself. When he had finished crying, curling up into an exhausted ball like a sparkling, he didn't notice another set of colors nearby…red and blue.


Several joors later, he opened his optics again. This time the young medic was gone, and he was in a different area of the bay-on a more comfortable recharge berth, and a can of Energon was on a nearby table.

"Feeling better?" The voice had Jetfire's head turning, standing nearby was a yellow Autobot. The Seeker nodded quietly, not trusting his vocalizer. The pain was still there yes, but it didn't hurt as bad, and things were slowly starting to become clearer in his processor.

"Where…where am I?"

"Iacon Medical. You've been offline for so long we were afraid that you'd up and joined the Matrix behind our backs." The yellow Autobot said grumpily, coming over and starting to run several scans on the prone Jetfire.

"Iacon? Then…I…I…"

"Easy fragger." The insult had Jetfire blinking in astonishment, unable to call up the ire that being insulted could produce. "For the time being you're in my medical bay and all that nonsense can wait." Hands started to go over Jetfire's wounds, rather gently compared to the voice's tone. "You show up slagged to Pit and then some, scare the living sparks out of us with your screaming, and I'm guessing after that emotional fit you're not feeling up to any Seeker tricks you might try and pull."

"I have no such tricks, and your bedside manner is vile." Jetfire countered, feeling energy slowly come back to him. He'd been though Pit, and this mech wanted to be rude to him?

"Vile he says! Now that's a word a 'bot normally hears out of Perceptor." A grin had appeared on the faceplate. "If you're mouthing off to me, that means you're doing better than I expected, Decepticon."

"Decepticon I…" Here Jetfire paused, and then continued on. "Decepticon I was, but at least their medics had better manners than you! And had better treatmen-ow!!"

"I dare you to finish that sentence." Ratchet rumbled, his eyes gleaming as he effortlessly pinned Jetfire down by his injured wing. "Oh please, please make my orn. Give me a reason to fantasize that you're Red Alert-or even better, Sideswipe!-and I can beat the living FRAG out of you." Jetfire had no response to this, save for looking up at the yellow Autobot with a distant sort of horror.

What the…

"Ratchet, lay off!" The name had Jetfire jerking violently-this mech was Ratchet? The Ratchet who had been the Prime's personal liaison to the Council of Ancients…and when the war had started had become one of the top medics on Cybertron. This was him?!

"You're Ratchet?!" He cried. The Autobot CMO smiled…almost predatory?-at him.

"If the name fits."

"But he's also known as the Hatchet, Unicron's Spawn, fragging bastard, sick, twisted, demented mech…" A green and white mech with three metal bands as a mask on his faceplate cheerfully volunteered. Jetfire blinked in shock, had his head turned green as he spoke? "Ratchet, lay off the poor 'bot. Weren't you the one talking about how he needed peace and quiet?"

"That was before he nearly offlined himself purging and nearly undid all my careful repairs moving around!" Ratchet snarled, his hands once again proving the opposite of his words, gently making sure that temp-plating was staying in place, testing for weakened areas in the armor. "You're not breaking about orns of work, you hear me?!"

"Ow!"