Author's notice: I've noticed a pattern recently that has led me to believe that either the people reading my stories are all one-handed (a comment for which this authoress is going to hell) or just rather lazy. In any case, due to the utter lack of helpful comments, there is now a quota of comments that must be met before any new chapters will be posted. I know this is conceited. I know you're all going to flame me. I know I'm going to Hell, but I don't really care. I require, as of now, three comments per chapter in order to post the next. I have 17 faves on this story, and 27 alerts, and no one is commenting and I just find it rather rude. Sorry if you've been commenting and find this offensive, I do appreciate the comments I've received and I take the time to read and record each and every one, but I need muse, and my muse leaves me without comments. FOR THE SAKE OF MY MUSE, REVIEW!!!

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Ratchet re-entered his Medical Bay to see the humans ('They are humans, however much they attempt to argue the opposite.') sitting exactly where he had left them, and sighed at the sight of Edward kneeling in the same, startled pose he had been in when Bella had all but disowned him and his family.

"Kid?" Ratchet began, looking to the human.

And his temper flared.

"I'm not a kid! I'm nearly a hundred years old, and I don't need you to tell me how badly I messed up, or how I ought to be ashamed, because I know, and I am! Just like I'm older than you!" shouted Edward, rising from his spot on the floor.

Ratchet, being who he was, would never accept such challenges to his authority, especially in his Medical Bay.

"Listen, kid, because I'm only saying this once before I start stapling people to the ceiling. You're new here, so I'm going to be nice. I only have three rules, and these are them; rule number one: this room, and all medical facilities on this ship, are under my jurisdiction, my rooms, my rules and no yippee sparkling is going to be ordering me around in them; rule number two: upset or bother my patients, and anyone who has had so much as a tune up by me is classified as my patient, and I will disassemble you; the third, and final rule, is that, since I am older than you -- by about forty-three billion, three hundred forty-three million, one hundred eighty thousand, one hundred eighty-four Earth years, thank you very much -- when I call you kid, you will not throw a hysterical fit! Understood?" ranted the angered medic.

Earthen eyes widening at the age of the Cybertronian medic, Edward could only nod dumbly, vainly trying to grasp the concept of being older than Earthen life.

"Good," concluded Ratchet, blatantly ending the conversation.

Suddenly, the Medical Bay doors flew open and in walked Wheeljack, face solemn, carrying a still mech in his arms. Alice looked over, noting that the red mech in his arms was considerably smaller than the other giants. His red paint was scratched and dented, and his armor was missing in several spots where whatever had done this to him had obviously been far more brutal than others. Wires hung out of seams and sparked at random, and his left optic was shattered.

Ratchet's expression shifted from shock to horror to anger in a split second, and he growled out, "Who?"

"Who da you think, Ratch'?" came the terse reply, followed by the clang of the mech being dropped none-too-gently on one of the giant medical berths.

"Slaggit! If Sunstreaker doesn't cool it with the minibots, I may go ahead and shove him in the brig for the rest of his miserable online cycle!" groused Ratchet, grabbing a tool from -.

"Where'd that come from?" Alice asked aloud before she could stop herself. It had seemed to just appear in thin air, but that couldn't be right. It had to have come from somewhere.

"Subspace," began Wheeljack as he started prying the red minibot's armor off. "It's an alternate dimension we discovered a few mega-vorns back, and by issuing certain command codes we can store and retrieve objects regardless of size, mass, density, or composition. It's like a pocket you can never lose anything in."

Nodding, Alice realized that not only did she not understand, she wasn't sure she wanted to. 'Alternate dimension? Like in science fictions?'

Edward nodded at Alice, Ratchet noting both this and the subtle spark signature that preceded it.

'How is it,' considered the mech silently, 'that they can use spark energy without knowing what it is? Does he realize he's brodcasting our position to enemies?'

"Do you realize what you are doing?"

The human looked up at him questioningly, and asked, "What are you talking about?"

"When you communicate with others silently, do you realize what you are doing?"

"How did you know about that?" he hastily defended.

"Because when you do that you give off an odd spark signature. It could potentially be how the Decepticons came across you and yours in the first place," Ratchet spoke softly, not wanting to alarm the Earthlings.

"What do you mean?" the concern splayed across his face was a palpable force.

"What 'e means is 'at you gotta stop readin' others' thoughts, 'r else the 'Cons are gonna swarm us," answered Wheeljack, cursing as the arc welder he was using burned his palm.

"Wait," began Rosalie, fearfully clutching Emmet's arm. "So you mean that so long as we're near Edward, those... things can find us?"

Esme glared at Rosalie, but Edward didn't notice, visibly shaken by the revelation.

"I did this to her. I hurt Bella. God, have mercy," breathed Edward as he collapsed to his side and remained that way, staring blankly at the space before him.

Ratchet sighed, 'Primus, if I'd known the kid was this dramatic, I'd'a kept my fragging mouth shut... Still, he needs to know for future reference...'

"Listen, kid, I know all this is a lot to take in at once, but you phasing out isn't going to help anyone. I know you're upset about Bella, and slag it all if I wasn't ready to kill you when she started crying, but I'm gonna take a proverbial page from her book and tell you what she told me. It's gonna be okay."

Edward looked up for a moment, hearing Esme's respect for Ratchet echo about in his mind before said medic gave a low growl and turned to glare at the doors.

"Dammit, Sunstreaker! If you're just gonna stand there I can get Prowl to give you something to do! Now either make yourself useful or get the frag away from my Medical Bay!" screeched the red and white mech.

The golden warrior slid gracefully into the room, an air of known perfection about him as he walked, listless and unblinking, to the red mech's table side.

"Ratchet?" he choked, and the vampires understood that something was wrong. Wisely, they kept silent, trying to look uninterested.

The hard glare subsided as the medic approached him and held out his hands.

"What's wrong, Sunstreaker?" he queried softly as the slightly taller mech took his hands.

"Sideswipe's not a traitor. I know he's not. He'd never be a traitor, right, Ratchet?"

The uncertainty in his voice left Ratchet visibly shaken, and he shook his head 'no' before asking, "What's wrong, Sunstreaker?"

"I felt it. Ratch, I felt it through him. Ratchet," Sunstreaker began quietly, growing increasingly hysterical with each word, each syllable that left his dentals. "Ratchet, he touched him! Ratchet, I can feel his hands, Megatron's hands, Shockwave's hands, all over me, everywhere, touching, Sideswipe can't hold on anymore. Ratchet, please, make it stop! Make it stop, it hurts! Primus it hurts! Stop!"

Ratchet grabbed hold of his creation, pinning him onto one of the medical berths as he gently, with every ounce of professionalism one would expect from the ancient medic, plunged a usb-like object into the side of his neck armor.

Sunstreaker's body trembled once, then dropped to the berth, brilliant optics dimmed in silent recharge.

The room was achingly quiet, Ratchet's treacheal tubing feeling cinched too tightly for proper circulation. Wheeljack was the first to move, wrapping his long limbs around Ratchet's shaking frame. The silence was broken as a low keening was torn from the red and white mech's vocalizer, all energy leaving his body as he fell to the ground in Wheeljack's arms, sobbing and shaking and weakly beating his fists on Wheelack's chassis.

"Jack, Primus, Jack," chocked Ratchet, gripping his upper arms tightly, resting his helm on the Lancia's chassis. "We've got to get him back. We've got to. My... my sparkling is hurting, Jack, and I'm not there to help him. Primus knows I've been cruel to them both, but it was only ever because I worried. But Jack, oh, Jack, I fought with him before he left. I told him..."

"What did you tell him, sweetling?" prompted Wheeljack kindly.

"I told him to jump in the Inferno. I said, 'I don't care if you stumble in here carrying your guttering spark, I won't help you, Side...'"

Hysteria calming, it flared back up as he tried to speak his child's name. It hurt. Primus, it hurt him to speak of the beautiful, cocky, funny, loving son he had lost.

"I didn't mean it, Jack. I swear I didn't mean it!" he shouted, and Wheeljack tilted his helm up to gaze into burning blue optics, so deep, so full of such sorrow.

"Listen to me, Ratchet, and listen carefully, because I'm gonna keep sayin' this until you get it. Sideswipe knows you love 'im. He knows you're grumpy. He knows ya like t'yell 'n throw things at people 'n drink too much t' forget 'n that ya've healed Decepticons. He knows all o' tha', but ya know what else 'e knows? He knows your his creator, 'n there ain't nothin' ya c'n do ta change it. He knows tha' ya love him, and he loves you, too."

Pulling the medic's face closer to his own, Wheeljack murmured, "And I do, too."

Kissing the distraught medic deeply, Wheeljack bean tugging on his armor, getting the CMO's pelvic armor off a moment before a polite cough came from one of the transfixed vampires.

"Yeah?" Wheeljack gruffly inquired. Didn't they see he was busy? The flushed face of Ratchet hovering mere inches away from his own was enough to cause overload on its own.

"There are others here," Esme pointed out as gently as she could. She understood that sometimes you needed certain comforts, but she really didn't want to watch a robotic pornography.

"And?" prompted Wheeljack, his voice sounding far too strained to have the intimidating effect he really wanted. What was the femme's point?

"Aren't you going to do that, well... somewhere else? Somewhere unoccupied?" questioned Esme wonderingly.

"Why? It's just intercourse? Your human internet is filled with it... which reminds me! Ratchet, I've got a surprise for us waiting in my lab. Would you let me carry you?" The green and white mech's attention was returned to the hyperventilating medic in his arms.

Optics glazed over with lust, Ratchet could only nod dumbly, needing the distraction, needing to overload, needing to cry, and needing to be away from the strange Earthlings for a while.

With that, the vampires were left alone to the Medical Bay.

"Well," drawled Emmet finally, "that was awkward."