Megatron slipped awake in the early hours of the morning. He was a light sleeper so the noise of Ratchet's systems powering online always stirred him from even locked recharge. But he wished it wasn't. He wanted to wonder how long the medic had remained in his servos after his systems came back online. There was some selfish part of him that wanted to marvel at the smaller Autobot lost in thought in his clutches.
This time, he said nothing and merely slipped out from beneath the medic and away from the berth. He didn't want Ratchet to jump out of the berth like he did last time. It would be better just to let the medic get some rest.
However, there wasn't much to distract himself with. He could read, but at this point he'd read everything this new Cybertron had to offer. Reading would do nothing for his current mix of emotions. As worthless as they were, they were nice compared to the fire of war and anger he was used to.
Megatron stood in the window, looking over the waking of the world. In that fringe of the morning, as light ebbed into every dark corner, he knew he still had something to give. It was violently frustrating to know that despite his mark in the world, it continued. Although Ratchet was correct: keeping things as they are would only bring trouble. Living here revived the burn in his core to help Cybertron overcome its suffering a second time.
As the last vestiges of night faded away, Megatron turned from the scenery back to his custodial. A flash of red drew his gaze, the hidden cube of high grade reminding him of the events from the night before. He hastened to retrieve it from its place. There was a lag in his wonder if it would be better to hide it from the medic, keep the events of last night from repeating. Then again, there was only really one aspect of last night's rather cozy events he wished to undo.
The outer door opened.
For a flicker, his processor believed it was Ratchet, returning from his day at work but as it closed behind the intruder, he fit the piece into place. There was nowhere near to hide.
The intruder was small which remained a reassuring factor. She had a visor and a terrible ostentatious shade of tinted red that burned the optic. Decals ran along her like art she was a grounder with Knockout's gaudy tastes.
"Hello."
The first thing Megatron could tell is they had a high timber voice and an unsettling way about them. In fact, it was as if his metal carried a charge from her presence. It put him on edge as much as her sudden entrance. She carried herself well enough- wasn't skulking around like an intruder.
"How did you get in?" Megatron curled the servo where his cannon heated. Firing the weapon indoors would only announce his presence. He shut down the building charge; he'd have to get close for hand-to-hand combat should it come to blows.
"I know the code," the visor made it so difficult to read her expression, "What's with the high grade?"
Megatron looked down at the cube in his servo, "We drank."
"I see." She tracked forward more than Megatron realized, focused on how to react. She gently lifted the high grade out of his servos, inspecting it much like Ratchet did, "How did you get it?"
"I concocted it," Megatron watched as she moved so fluidly around him. She wasn't afraid of him which made him just as wary of her as a normal bot should of him. He flinched as she turned back to him and gestured to the couch.
"Why don't you have a seat?"
Megatron's processor raced. Leaving would do nothing. Was this a police unit? If so, how did she know Ratchet's code? Was she about to detain him and spend the next day reading him his list of crimes?
Once Megatron settled down she spoke again, "Ratchet gave me the code, you don't have to worry."
Part of him assured him it must be true but it was a betrayal of his own thoughts. She moved forward as if to sit beside him and in a rather childish way, he spread his pedes to deny it. Again, that visor didn't betray her emotion as she sat on his ped, straddling it and facing him.
"You're a warbuild then?"
"That's impolite," Megatron growled out. With her this close, a faint buzzing rang through his audials. So focused on exactly what she emitted he didn't bother pushing her away.
"Are you interfacing with Ratchet?"
Megatron bared his teeth defensively and grabbed around her waist. His digits touched each other and she wrapped her own digits around an arm spike and spoke soft again, "It's just a question."
The buzzing was too loud now. His servos felt glued to her svelte waist. He finally managed to spit out, "We aren't."
"Oh, you're a patient?"
"Yes."
The buzzing faded immediately and began to pull away. Megatron would not let her get away so easily. He pulled her back with his servos on her waist hunching over and meeting her optic to visor, "Why are you here?"
"For service," she said coquettishly, turning her helm up to him.
"What kind of service?"
Visor kept his stare and a smile played at their lips. She didn't have an em field, or they had it jammed, and offered no reassurance. The Autobot did look new, he couldn't quite figure out if she was intelligence or speed model. She didn't have a scratch on her; no dings or marks or misplaced paint. She was far more maintained than Knockout ever was with the best materials. But she looked small, and fragile. What made matter's worse is that he seemed transfixed by that bright blue visor. It looked unreal. As if she was replaying a memory, the Autobot placed one claw around her helm, clutching it close to her. Megatron rose defensively, reminded of Ratchet.
"What kind of service do you think?"
He couldn't tell if she whispered it or if it was a private communication but for a lingering moment all he could think about was his claw on the small of her back and how he could crush her helm in his other servo.
"Hey."
Ratchet's incredulous warning made Megatron flinch and tear away the servo from her back. But Ratchet didn't seem to care one bit about where Megatron's servos were on his patient. As the bot slunk off Megatron, he lectured, "Don't do that to him, he's far too old to be messing about. What if you were injured?"
"You'd fix me up, wouldn't you doctor?"
"Don't push your luck," Ratchet liked her just fine then. He turned to Megatron, "Disengage and reengage your EM field jammer."
Megatron did as he said wondering why the sudden command.
"You," Ratchet pointed to the medical berth and addressed the newcomer, "On the table we have something to talk about."
"Your high grade," the ostentatious bot spoke mockingly innocent as she offered the cube.
Ratchet turned to Megatron, handing off the liquid, "Megatron I'd like you to meet Electraceae. I am hoping she can arrange to get you off planet."
"This is Megatron," Electraceae seemed incredulous, "I thought he'd be bigger."
She reached out to shake his servo, but Ratchet batted her away, "Don't play games. He's not the patient type."
Ratchet gave no explanation, merely shooed him away to the kitchen to return the high grade. Megatron observed from the corner of his optic as Ratchet lifted her helm.
"How do you feel, any headaches?"
"No."
Megatron knew why he didn't like the way she leaned into the medic's touch but he would never admit it, even to himself.
"What about your vision?"
"It's fine, Ratchet. I'm in your capable servos."
"Cut out the slag," Ratchet warned her.
He talked very familiar with the younger bot. She was so unlike First Aid, Ratchet didn't shy away from her touch or seemed to mind much when she slung her servos around him.
"My vision is clear right now."
Megatron wasn't going to be separated from her and the medic no matter how much she creeped him out.
"Okay, then let's begin."
Electraceae looked to Megatron and tilted her helm close to Ratchet, whispering out something.
"I assure you, Electraceae, if he were to reveal himself to spill your secrets you'd have nothing to worry about," Ratchet assured her, removing her limbs from him gently, "Now, please."
She tilted her helm and Ratchet made a strange swipe across her audial fin with a sharp click. Megatron watched in horror as the visor, part of her helm, and both audial fins gently lifted to reveal a much different bot. She had two optics, one blue and one a hazard yellow. The yellow had a deep scar ornamenting it much like her tattoos. To put it lightly; someone had attempted to blow her face off.
"It's a modification," Megatron had to marvel at Ratchet's work. It could only be his. The audial fins looked just like Optimus' with a little more winged flair to them now that he looked at it.
"Yes," the pink bot responded as Ratchet was far too involved in checking out the electronic, "It's a mod."
"Is that why earlier-?"
"No," Ratchet answered, "That was a glitch we haven't figured out yet."
"I could show you," the pink bot's appearance now looked far more unnerving than before, "If you want to."
"No," Ratchet stated, his voice warning and pleading all at once, "I have to live with him."
Megatron's frustration bled out at being kept in the dark, "I have my own right to decide Ratchet. What can you show me?"
Electraceae looked at Ratchet and was much easier to read without the visor on. She admired him in some way. Looked to him for a degree of guidance at least.
Ratchet threw up his servos, "Primus, don't do anything to get yourself killed. And I'm wiping my field."
"I won't," she seemed to be making a promise. Yet Megatron saw that mischievous smile from earlier.
Electraceae scooted a little closer to Megatron, "It'll be easier if you turn on your em field."
Megatron glanced to Ratchet but he'd turned his full attention to her helmpiece, choosing to ignore whatever this was.
Megatron eased out his em field from behind the jammer. The pink Autobot scooted closer and spoke gently, as if easing him through a procedure.
"So, I'm going to turn mine on and it's going to feel a bit funny. But when you recharge, it will give you what you wish for most. Understand?"
"How?"
"She doesn't know," Ratchet grumped, "No one does. It's a glitch at best."
"It's an ability," Megatron countered.
Electraceae beamed at the compliment and then shifted again, "Okay, now if you ground yourself or…." She glanced at Ratchet, "Just don't do anything with your em field until after you fall asleep okay?"
"You can't even engage your jammer," Ratchet spoke, this time meeting Megatron's optics. That meant he'd have to keep his field in very close.
Again, that buzzing, but it stopped just as quickly as it started, "You're done."
"And you're done too," Ratchet handed over the mod and Electraceae re-engaged it. Megatron had to wonder again how like the Optimus the audial fins were "Now we discussed payment this time."
"No problem. We'll use my event. I'll have to get some people involved. Holostrike will not be pleased, but she keeps her mouth shut," the femme jumped down from the berth. "I'll let you know the details as I get them."
"Keep me informed," Ratchet grimaced.
"Bye boys, have fun," She wriggled her digits as she left.
Ratchet vented the moment the door closed behind her and Megatron finally had the nerve to ask, "She does not know me?"
"No," Ratchet began packing up the tiny tools he'd been used to tune the complicated modification, "She's only just forged."
"What is her function?" With the grounder's absence, he could easily appreciate the thought of an impudent new spark hell raising in the streets of Cybertron.
Ratchet leaned back on his wheelbeds, "Words I'd never think to hear uttered by you, Megatron."
"I am curious."
"She's an escort. The council uses her to rein in Cybertronian trafficking. Her original function was- is unknown but I surmise intelligence."
They sat in an awkward silence before Ratchet continued, "If she offers, please be gentle."
"What?" Megatron looked at Ratchet, surprised at the words.
Ratchet merely shrugged and turned away, not clarifying the subtext of his meaning.
"Have you achieved impedance with her?" With the output of that field she probably had ample energy despite her size. Then again, he could just be speculating.
Ratchet glared but didn't flare up or become flustered, "No. She's only just forged Megatron, as interested as I am in her frame it is purely scientific in nature."
But he was interested in her. Of course, Ratchet was allowed an interested in others. He would have a life on Cybertron. It was wrong to wish that Ratchet be as trapped in the past as he was.
"Speaking of which, I'd thought I'd look at your frame, please."
Megatron obediently sat down on the cleared medical berth and Ratchet set to work, flipping open his spark chamber. His chestplating swung out like doors and the medic studied the ebb of the spark.
"The dark energon in your core is gone."
"Of course, Optimus purged it from my system," Megatron worried that perhaps the medic had a corruption in his memory.
Ratchet rubbed his thumb digit, his look of worry not something Megatron thought he deserved. "I told you once when you regained consciousness, but when they found you, you had dark energon in your system."
"It seems some mistakes are not easily forgiven," Megatron meant to soothe but Ratchet only looked worried.
"Has it ever been able to just disappear like that?"
Megatron shook his helm, "My arrogance in tampering with dark energon is that it would find me worthy of it. I thought I was freed."
"Maybe it was just my imagination," Ratchet didn't sound convincing.
Megatron watched as Ratchet stared into his spark. He knew the medic's processor was busy with something else. But he hated the way the medic looked so haggard. Probably remembering something about Prime. He wanted to close his chestplating and bring him in closer, hugging him to his frame.
It wouldn't be a comfort.
"I do not think it will appear if you just glare,"
"Hmm," Ratchet snapped back from his reverie, "Yes. I have things I've been neglecting but I'll return tomorrow morning, I promise."
Megatron closed his spark chamber with a swift movement, watching as Ratchet moved to busy himself elsewhere, "I will wait here."
Again, Ratchet flashed him that worried expression. But it was their final words before he left Megatron alone.