I can't believe that it took me less than fourteen months to update this story, lol.

Sorry about that. I still feel remorse every time I recall that it took me that much – or more, I honestly don't remember – to update last time… I hope you guys can forgive me. I'll do my best to compensate you and will keep this story very active from now on.

There are some important author's notes at the end of this chapter. Please make sure you read them because I would like to know your opinion about something that's been circling my head.

I want to give tons of thanks to my sista iratepirate for helping me with my grammar and for providing the fuel to keep my writing streak powered.

I also want to send a big hug to the Transformers Russian community, for the support and much needed kicks in the butt they give me every now and then.

Chapter 4

A tale of two traitors

The two Decepticons let go of his arms. The ground was not very distant, but still the thud that signaled his landing could have been gentler.

He wasn't surprised to see blue and silver fuselage as soon as his optical sensors realigned. The hand extended toward him wasn't exactly a shocking sight either.

"Is this you Decepticreeps idea of first class travel? And you dare to call yourselves fliers…" Still, he took the hand and accepted the ride back to his feet.

"I apologize, Ratchet," Thundercracker told him. "I instructed my soldiers to avoid being rough, but they still have a lot to learn about subtlety."

"You call those chunks of scrap metal soldiers?" Ratchet spat, throwing a dirty look to the two tetra-jets that had kidnapped him. "You really have a lot of work ahead if you're seriously trying to turn those rust buckets into fuel-thirsty 'Cons like the rest of you lot." For a moment, he seriously considered punching Thundercracker in the face, but he ended up sighing instead. "How many of them this time?"

"Just one, but in critical condition," Thundercracker said, guiding Ratchet through the maze of corridors in the improvised base.

"Ah-ha, and couldn't you have asked me, like you did the last couple of times? Did you have to send your cronies to hunt me down like a turbofox?"

"I was afraid you wouldn't show up. After all, this is the third time I ask for your help…"

"Ask is a way of putting it. And you're right, I wouldn't have come! What? Do you think that repairing 'Cons is the kind of thing I crave to do in my spare time – not to mention that I don't have any spare time at all!"

Thundercracker smiled slightly. "You care about life."

"Oh, there you go again, resorting to the 'ole good-doctor argument… You're really one twisted Deceptiscum, Thundercracker, perhaps worse than all your comrades. Do you know what I was doing right before your gang of crooks abducted me?" Ratchet stood in front of Thundercracker and didn't move to make a point. "I was repairing an Autobot flier, and all records indicate that he was brought down by the same 'Con you're asking me to repair! Where does that leave me standing?"

Very often, Ratchet couldn't tell the difference between treachery and compassion. True, he had pronounced an oath when becoming a medic and to be honest he had saved Decepticons' skidplates a long, long time before Thundercracker had come to him for the first time, but indignation was his right. Patching up the enemy wasn't exactly the key that would lead the Autobots to victory.

"I have tried to avoid fatal casualties," Thundercracker said. At least he had the decency of looking somewhat ashamed.

"Really? On which side?" Ratchet spat a remnant of energon to the floor. "Well, you obviously haven't tried hard enough. Last time I checked our numbers continued depleting by the cycle." He looked around; every one of Thundercracker's soldiers seemed to be occupied with whatever duties they had been assigned with. "Which doesn't happen to your little armada, I see, as complete as the first day Megatron gave you your new toys to play with. I don't know if you're a slaggin' genius in aerial tactics or just one lucky fragger."

"I like to believe a little bit of both." Thundercracker walked on. Ratchet followed grudgingly. "I have indeed been able to keep my soldiers safe so far, but I can't put high bids on about how long they will remain that way."

I could, if I stop helping you repair them… But Ratchet disregarded the thought.

They arrived at a door at the end of a corridor.

"You have a lot of nerve," Ratchet said as Thundercracker typed a code in the pad outside. "I don't know who's the most foolish here. You, for bringing a sworn enemy into your base, or me for agreeing to repair 'Cons who'll slaughter more of my people as soon as they have the chance."

Thundercracker turned to look at him as the door hissed open. "You are not my enemy, Ratchet. You are my friend."

Now the blue Seeker had had the indecency of looking hurt. What was wrong with Decepticons-turning-Autobots-only-to-turn-Deceptic ons-again these days?

Ratchet frowned. "Yeah, we are friends when it suits your needs. I have to say it, Thundercracker, this has proven to be a very one-sided relationship. Care to guess who is on the losing end?"

Thundercracker walked to the only occupied berth, highlighted by one lamp barely illuminating the joke of a medical bay. The injured Decepticon was not a tetrajet, but an alternative model like others in Thundercracker's squad, and he was just as young. Ratchet couldn't help feeling pity for the poor slagger. Perhaps he hadn't been online for even one single meta-cycle and he was already being forced to fight.

Thundercracker gave his motionless soldier a serious look before activating a nearby panel, opening a hidden door in the wall. Ratchet's white face turned purple when bathed by the shimmer of the shining light.

"I don't plan to let you go empty handed this time, Ratchet."

The medic frowned. Indignation, more than ever, was his right. "What's this? My services are not for sale, much less my loyalties."

Thundercracker shook his head. "You said your outpost was short of Energon."

"Not of stolen, corrupted Energon... How many Autobots did you slaughter to get this?"

Thundercracker looked hurt. "I didn't slaughter anyone. This comes from our supplies in Darkmount."

"And that makes it clean, I take it?" Ratchet shook his head. "I know it's a nonexistent concept for you, but we Autobots have always worked for our fuel. We don't take it for granted… even less steal it."

Thundercracker approached the pile of glowing cubes. "There's no such thing as honest Energon in times of war. Stolen or not, it fuels a mech just the same. Take it. We are not exactly scarce of it these days. You, on the other hand…"

"And who's we, Thundercracker? You Decepticons or your squad here?"

When Thundercracker didn't reply, Ratchet shook his head and walked toward the repair berth. "See when I tell you that our friendship is very one-sided?" It took him only a fast glance at the burgundy colored Decepticon to know what was wrong; he had seen those exact injuries thousands of times, perhaps millions. "Okay, punctured fuel lines – I see you repaired those, good – massive structural damage, cooling system inoperative, partial mutilation of right upper servo, battle computer disabled, probable spark chamber corruption… I'd say we have a winner."

"Tell that to the Autobot who did this to him," he heard the rancorous voice behind him.

"I'll tell him, if he makes it through the night shift." Ratchet deployed his medical kit, thinking that war was the ultimate immorality. "Now, make sure the spark reader is on line and get your aft back here. We have work to do."

The small smile on the Decepticon's face didn't go unnoticed. As it happened every time he was in his presence, Ratchet felt conflicted feelings struggling through what he was sure was his treacherous spark. On one hand, he wanted to slag the abuse-confident Decepticon scum, but on the other, he truly appreciated him. Thundercracker was one troubled mech for sure, but his spark was in the right place. Ratchet only hoped that he would finish what he had started when he had dared to see beyond his optics during his undercover mission. Once touched by the Autobot code, no bot could ever be the same, especially if said code had been part of said bot's programming since being assembled. Thundercracker had chosen the wrong side, but he was an Autobot at spark, or at least that's what Ratchet still liked to believe.

They worked in silence for some breems, words being useless when a life was at stake. Thundercracker was as arrogant as all Seekers were, even snobbish to a point, but Ratchet was pleased to see that he had no problems in getting his hands dirty to save the life of one of his men. Maybe it was a matter of military protocol in Thundercracker's very peculiar honor code, but to see a 'Con taking care of one of his subordinates instead of abandoning him to shut down as the rest of his comrades would have done, was a welcome change. Unfortunately, Ratchet was sure that Thundercracker was the only one of his kind to think – and act – that way.

"You know, if you ever get tired of being an evil, megalomaniac Deceptiscum, you could be a decent medical assistant," Ratchet said when the spark reader started to display data that signaled that the offlined Decepticon was out of danger.

"From hated and mistrusted double-agent to nurse, you say? I'll think about it."

Ratchet could tell that Thundercracker had relaxed now that the survival of his soldier was a certainty. As he saw the blue Seeker walking toward a nearby cabinet, the medic frowned, realizing that it would be such a waste if this sui-generis 'Con ended up slagged.

"Joke all you want, but you should consider it, afthole!" he spat, displaying one of his famous mood changes. "I don't know what kind of double, triple or whatever-faced game you're playing here, but it will only take you to destruction. You know that, come on! You're an intelligent bot."

Thundercracker started to clean his hands thoroughly with a cloth soaked in solvent. "And why would you care, Ratchet, if I get destroyed? I'm just another evil Deceptiscum, remember?"

It wasn't the words, but the parsimony of the 'Con's attitude that unnerved Ratchet the most. Oh, how he wished to punch those smooth facial features this time… "Call me idiot if you want, but I still believe this universe would be a little bit worse without you in it."

Thundercracker grabbed another cleaning cloth and threw it to the medic. "I appreciate your words, but I have things to do."

"Or debts to pay, perhaps you wanted to say…" Ratchet said as he caught the cloth nonchalantly. "Look, the only thing I know about your guilt is that it is real, but I'm not sure if your actions are intended to heal it or to enhance it. All I know is that the Decepticons acquired a valuable weapon with your armada here. Your incursions in Kalis haven't exactly gone unnoticed."

Thundercracker narrowed his optics. "Believe it or not, killing Autobots is not amongst my priorities."

"And which priorities may those be? You're not being so communicative as to tell me what the slag are you up to."

"I have told you enough."

"You've told me nothing! As far as I know, I'm betraying my kind by coming here and patching up your boys. Last time I checked, an Autobot medic repairing Decepticons on a regular basis is considered high treason. Bah! I should defect and become the CMO of your little gang here!"

Thundercracker couldn't help but smile. "I would like that very much, but you could never defect, Ratchet. There's no Autobot who bears the red badge more proudly than you."

"Yeah? That won't help me to avoid court martial if I get caught helping you."

"You can always say that I abducted you."

This time he didn't think about it. He just punched the slagging Decepticon in the face.

"Is this a game to you, frag head? I don't remember you being such an ironic 'Con. Is that also a side of you that was hidden?"

Thundercracker stepped backwards, putting a hand on his cheek. He didn't retaliate, though. Ratchet hadn't expected him to.

Despite the fact that the hit had been quite hard, Thundercracker didn't seem mad. "If this is going to happen every time we meet, remind me to wear a face mask. You also punched me the first time I asked you to repair one of my men. The second time you threw a wrench at my head."

"If you don't like it, you can always punch me back!"

"I don't fight my friends."

That should have been enough to calm Ratchet down, but he was too angry to let things go this time. "I didn't see you having a problem with that when you fought Starscream. And you did a little more than just punching him."

Thundercracker's face darkened. "Starscream is not my friend."

Ratchet had his doubts about that. Autobot intel had reported that Thundercracker and Starscream were up to something. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good if the second worst Decepticon was involved. Ratchet felt a chill in the core when, for a moment, he wondered if said second worst Decepticon was the one standing in front of him.

"Look, just… " he finally said. "Just don't ask me to understand this. I don't get how you can deal with the guy you almost killed and almost got you killed. It doesn't fit in my programming."

"I don't see the problem. After all, I'm standing with the guy I betrayed and from whom I stole the classified intel that I used to doom Iacon."

"And what does that make you, Thundercracker?" Ratchet asked sourly.

The Seeker lowered his head. There was no doubt that he tortured himself much more often than when he engaged in verbal battles with the only friend he had left in the Universe. Despite his annoyance, Ratchet felt sorry for him.

When Thundercracker didn't answer, the medic relaxed his severe stance. "You're playing a dangerous game, Thundercracker. Whatever it is that you're doing, you can't trick everyone."

"Why not? It worked with you."

That 'you' reached many more than just Ratchet, the medic knew. "You're not exactly a trusted bot these days. I'm not going to waste words telling you how unpopular you are amongst my people. Let's just say that everything you do is corrupted by your own interests and those convenient lies you have become so attached to. You may be a hero amongst your kind, but as much as I don't dislike your company, I don't trust you."

"Hero?" Thundercracker twisted his mouth, as if finding the word disgusting. "I'm no hero, I can assure you that. As a matter of fact, my… kind would like to see me dismembered as much as yours."

"It's hard to be a double-crosser these days, huh?"

"Tell me about it."

Thundercracker's face hardened. He always had a very serious countenance, but Ratchet knew him enough to realize when he was really troubled. He was risking too much indeed, involved in Primus knew how many variants of a bizarre plan only he knew about, but Ratchet could tell for sure that his Decepticon friend was not afraid to die. That was the worst part.

"Looking forward to being destroyed is not the best way to redeem yourself," Ratchet said, not daring to look at Thundercracker and focusing his attention on aligning one of the tubes feeding the offlined jet on the repair berth. "Assuming that redeeming yourself is what you want, of course."

"Trust me, if blowing my cranial unit to pieces would erase my mistakes, I would do it," he heard the Seeker saying. "But that's the way of a coward."

"And you are no coward, we both know that… What are you then?"

Thundercracker approached from the other side of the berth. "I used to be a warrior. Now I'm a traitor, you said it yourself."

"A Decepticon traitor is an Autobot's best friend, but an Autobot betrayer… You really break the mold in double-crossing your faction, whichever faction that may be."

Thundercracker frowned. "Why does everything have to be about factions? Since when did we stop being Cybertronians?"

"You tell me. It wasn't my kind who started the war."

"That's debatable."

Now it was Ratchet who frowned. "Aaand the Decepticon arises… I'm not going to engage in this never-ending conversation with you again, Thundercracker, especially when you love so much to walk on both sides of the line."

The Seeker didn't retort, as Ratchet had predicted. In the short time he had been treating him, the medic had learned to recognize his shame.

Ratchet sighed. "I heard that your trine was dissolved – believe it or not, my side is very grateful because of that. But you seem to cope pretty well with your new henchmen here. They don't exactly seem to hate you."

"They are youngsters, fresh steel out of the training fields, sometimes from the assembly lines themselves," Thundercracker said, looking at the offlined burgundy Decepticon. "Misfire failed every test in the fields, every single one of them… and with the worst scores. He was also expelled because of his insanity. If you think that being put in front of this unit was a reward for my heroic actions, you are very mistaken."

And yet, you have managed to win every battle with this unit of beginners. "Megatron is challenging you, or he has a sick sense of humor."

Thundercracker snorted. "He's watching me, almost as much as he's using me."

"As he did last time, you mean? And what would be the difference now?"

"That this time I plan to do something about it."

"Doing what? Getting killed? You were close last time."

Thundercracker smirked. "But I failed, and if not succeeding in getting destroyed is the thing I do the best, I intend to make good use of my ability."

"You said your soldier was insane, but I think you're the loony yourself." Ratchet shook his head and looked at the injured young Decepticon. "Take good care of these junk buckets 'cause I won't be available to put them back together for a while. I have been reassigned to Simfur."

"Simfur?" The sudden shine of Thundercracker's optics didn't go unnoticed. "What part of Simfur?"

Ratchet looked at him carefully. "Now that would be confidential information, don't you agree?" Ever since the beginning of their deal – or whatever it could be called – Ratchet and Thundercracker had tacitly agreed to keep their badges out of it, but it was hard, very hard, to leave the Autobot behind when standing before an infamously treacherous Decepticon.

Thundercracker frowned. "Is it that hard for you trust me, Ratchet? I'm not backstabbing you this time."

"I guess that's because you have plenty of backs left to stab. One more wouldn't make a difference."

"The things I'm not telling you are for your own protection."

"What a coincidence. Everything that I don't tell you is also for my own protection!" the medic spat, returning his attention to his most recent patient. "Your soldier here is out of danger. Now I would really appreciate it if you'd return me to my post. I have much more valuable lives to save."

"Ratchet…"

He turned towards the door. "I'm not as foolish as you believe, Thundercracker. I know perfectly well that you are one of the most dangerous Decepticons ever built. Don't ever think that I forget that, not for a single moment."

"And yet you help me. Why?"

Ratchet didn't reply. Thundercracker had said it before; there was no need to repeat it.

He heard the Decepticon moving behind him. "There is an abandoned industrial sector thirteen cyber-miles north of your outpost. I'll leave the Energon there, in a raw state. Nobody will be able to tell that it was planted there intentionally."

Ratchet didn't say anything, tacitly accepting the payment for his services. What could he say? Pride was not exactly an asset these days, especially after a Decepticon infiltrator had exposed the biggest weakness in the Autobot code of honor. The damage that Thundercracker had inflicted had been more serious than anybody wanted to admit.

He gave a furtive look to the fuel shining so beautifully. Did that mean that he had a price, after all? It went beyond the oath he had taken when becoming a doctor. He had made an oath to himself, a promise…

Now all his ethics had been compromised, and all because of his best intentions. The outcome, however, had very little to do with goodness, perhaps nothing at all.

Blind was the mech who still believed in black and white. How to name treason, when committed for the sake of something sacred, such as life?

Maybe he still had pride, but his patients needed fuel. As much as he felt like a traitor, his patients needed the fuel…

Sometimes he could understand Thundercracker, and that scared him.

It scared him very much.

To be continued.

I happen to like shades of gray, have you noticed?

And yeah, that was Misfire, as in Misfire the Scavenger. I love the guy so much that I borrowed him a bit. We'll be seeing more of him during this story.

Okay, as for that thing I wanted to ask you, it goes like this:

It starts with a confession: I wrote 'Purple rain' in one day.

Yeah, one day. Most of it at least, whilst I was watching three NFL games in any given Sunday. Don't ask me which teams played, because once I started typing I couldn't stop. Really, I couldn't stop. I wrote page after page, and in ten hours most of the fic was done. But that is the same reason why I regret having rushed so much in a story and a character that I have turned to love so much.

Can you blame now for wanting to rewrite it? I feel like I have a debt with 'Purple rain', and the duty to make it better. Now, as I write this third and final part of the trilogy, I realize that I left so many scenes out of it, not to mention characterization issues that are killing me – the Stunticons, cough, cough… Frag, I should be arrested for having written them SO bad in there!

Anyway, I would really appreciate if you let me know your opinion about a new version of 'Purple rain'. I won't erase the old one whatsoever, but I'm sure that now, some years after writing it, I have improved my writing skills and I can do it better. It will fit perfectly fine with 'Deviant' – better, actually – and thus with 'Once a Decepticon', and I may still have some surprises up my sleeve to both new and old readers.

Please send your feedback about that and also about this chapter. All your opinions matter and will be taken in consideration :o)