Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 10)

Thing With No Talent

Pairings: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

Summary: Shakespeare was right. Love is never easy... especially with these two.

Warnings: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than there needs to be. Did I mention drama?

Notes: /End suspense. Thank you for not sending me death-threats over the cliffhangers. (Warning -- chapter contains a dream sequence which is scary for two reasons. One, I've never written a dream sequence before and it's probably terrible. Two, it's Dinobot's. The guys does not do nightmares halfway.)

- - - - -

Dinobot had never been so glad to see the Axalon. Optimus must have gotten through, for Sentinel was on standby when they arrived, and Rhinox was waiting for them just outside. The big green tech did not look pleased.

The raptor slowed to a halt near the lift, panting from exertion, half spent but doing his best not to show it. The vermin by now was barely clinging to consciousness. Rhinox pulled out a hand scanner and waved it over him.

"Hm. Not much time," he said in response to the readings. "Better get him inside."

He reached out to take Rattrap -- and the velociraptor whirled, teeth snapping together just short of the outstretched fingers. Rhinox jerked back in surprise, and even Dinobot was shocked by the outburst once he regained control of himself. The strain of the situation was affecting him more than it should. He decided to blame his depleted energy reserves and leave it at that, rather than psychoanalyze himself on the spot. Still bearing his burden, he headed for the lift.

"I have carried him this far," he growled as he stepped onto the platform. "I'm certain I can make it to the CR chamber." He kept his tone as sarcastic as possible, trying to disguise the fact that he was close to collapsing. Rhinox followed, not arguing, although to say that he was happy about the situation would be to ignore the expression on his face. Dinobot very pointedly did not glance in his direction.

As they stepped off the lift into the command center, Rattrap raised his head from Dinobot's shoulder. "This looks like my stop," he sighed, in a tone of blissful relief. He was shivering now, and energon could be seen and heard crackling ominously over the exposed metal of his body.

The other two Maximals exchanged looks. Mutual concern was at odds with almost palpable territorial conflict, but in the end, concern won. Dinobot lowered his head. "You take him now." Now that I'm READY to give him up, went unspoken.

Carefully -- and aware that his every move was being scrutinized from the corner of a reptilian eye -- Rhinox lifted the badly charred rat and placed him in the nearest chamber. Tiny clamps, tubes and wires moved automatically into place, and there was a hiss of gases as the hatch closed. Dinobot could not see Rattrap disappear from view through the cloud of steam, but he could swear the rat was looking at him. A warrior knew well enough when he was being watched.

Rhinox, on the other hand, wasn't looking in his direction at all. There was plenty of invisible hostility between them still, all the more palpable with Rattrap safely in recovery. Such conflict would not have bothered Dinobot normally, but he was tired, and he didn't want to deal with it now. He decided for civility... or at least the closest he could manage.

"If he is out of danger, I'm going to refuel." He gave Rhinox two seconds to respond. When the tech merely grunted, Dinobot shrugged and left.

At the door, he paused. "I may return later, to... check on his condition." He wasn't sure why he added that. Perhaps just to show the technician that it wasn't just Maximals who cared. Perhaps to make clear that he still considered Rattrap's life his responsibility; after all, he had gone to the trouble of saving it. Or perhaps it was a warning. There was something that unnerved him about the idea of being in a CR chamber with only Rhinox on guard. Something about the tech himself, that reminded Dinobot vaguely of stasis tanks and tubes and programmers whose faces he couldn't remember, and made him keep a close eye on those green hands even when Rhinox was in his benign moods. There were certain kinds of people Dinobot just didn't trust.

Then again, there were very few people he did trust. Yet another trait in common with the vermin: He was a paranoid bastard.

Optimus will be back soon. Let him worry about Maximal problems. I... really could use a drink.

It wasn't until he was halfway down the hall that Dinobot realized how beat he was. He was actually staggering slightly, each foot rising with great effort and coming down heavily on the deckplates, while his vents cycled loudly trying to move overheated air out of his system. More alarming still were the small motor spasms and flickers of dizziness that signaled synaptic misfires -- a symptom of critically low energy levels. He had almost been running on fumes by the time they reached the Maximal camp, though he'd barely been aware of it until Rattrap was safe.

Also, his feet hurt.

Dinobot stopped in the middle of the corridor and transformed, bracing his shoulder against a wall as he stood. He looked down at what had become his hands. The flesh of the palms and fingers was blistered from heat, and the blisters had torn open during the run. He remembered pulling the still-hot girder off of Rattrap, and wondered why he hadn't noticed the injuries until now.

Well. I DID have a mission to focus on, Dinobot told himself. Of course, it was never that simple in his mind.

A rescue mission? And you were so caught up in it as to ignore your own injuries? That sort of thinking gets Predacons killed.

The warrior shook his head. I had to get Rat--my comrade back to base, he insisted to himself, or we would have lost one of our forces. He reached the door to his quarters and tapped in the passcode with his claws. Now he saw the skin on the back of his knuckles was slightly torn, revealing a hint of wiring beneath. That must have been from hitting Inferno.

This concern for a teammate... so very Maximal. Or is it only for one teammate?

Finally, the damn door opened. It doesn't matter. Look, there's an energon dispenser. I'm going to refuel and recharge. The soul-searching will have to wait. Perhaps a trip to the washrack was also in order. The stench of burnt rodent clung to him like a shroud.

That oh-so-argumentative inner voice had one last point to make, however. Where is your WEAPON, warrior?

Dinobot froze. His sword. He'd left it on the battlefield -- sticking out of Inferno, to be precise. By itself this was no cause for panic; he had fought unarmed many times before, and though the sword was a useful tool, he was not so attached to it as to feel completely naked without it. Under the circumstances, however, the fact that it had just slipped his mind, along with so many other things he should have been aware of...

... Alright. Something is wrong with me.

He waited for a retort to that, but it didn't come. Apparently there were no answers to be had anywhere in his head. There was instead a sense of entropy, of things breaking up and falling apart at an ever-increasing rate all around, and even inside, him. It felt as if he'd been knocked off his feet, and now he couldn't regain them. He had no control of the situation. No control at all.

He was afraid.

Shakily, Dinobot filled a container of energon and downed it. He leaned back against the wall for support, and gradually slid to the floor, head dropping to his knees. He would be fine. It was his energy levels, that was all. He just had to wait for his systems to stabilize, and the world would stop spinning and everything would make sense. Everything... would... make...

- - - - -

"This doesn't make any sense! Were you even listening to my report?"

"You try my patience, Dinobot. I've given you orders. Are you going to follow them or not? Think carefully."

The room was an arena, an empty one. No cheering spectators. No announcer. Just the two warrior mechs face-to-face, tension strung between them like tripwires, liable to be set off by the slightest movement. The tension that builds just before a battle.

"I have followed your orders for nearly forty decacycles, Megatron. I'd think my opinion would have earned your trust by now." These were the words they'd spoken, yes, but not here. No, this had happened long after the arena, long after Megatron had found him...

"When I want your opinion, lieutenant, I will ask for it. Since I haven't asked for it, you may presume that I am not in the mood for discussion." Megatron raised his right hand in warning. It wavered indistinctly; sometimes it was a tyrannosaur head, sometimes it was a fusion cannon. "Unless you care to discuss this in a less civilized fashion?"

Dinobot hesitated, then drew his sword. He knew it was a mistake. He knew what was going to happen -- what had already happened. But it was his nature, to draw and fight when challenged, a warrior's nature. He had not lost that to Megatron, not yet. "I accept."

Suddenly he was outside himself, watching the scene from a distant third-person perspective. He saw the swift exchange of blows, saw his sword knocked away. Then the cannon blast, ending the fight prematurely. He turned away before he could see the warrior -- himself -- sink to his knees, clutching a hole in his side. Defeated.

"Easy to get used to after awhile, ain't it, Chopperface?"

Dinobot turned to see Rattrap watching him. A hulking figure loomed in the shadows behind the rodent, and a large hand reached down, grabbing him by the neck. Rattrap winced, but didn't struggle. "Just another day at the office," he said resignedly, disappearing into the gloom.

"No!" Dinobot lunged after him, but when he reached for his sword, he found he no longer had it. When he looked up again, Rattrap was gone. A faint, pained squeak reached his audios and he spun in a circle, trying to locate it. "Doesn't make it right. You said so yourself--"

"Maximal sentiment."

He spun again, and was looking at himself. A blue face twisted in disgust, red optics coldly narrowed. "This is the way of SURVIVAL," said the mirror. "Let the Maximals worry about matters of 'right' and 'wrong'. Let them worry about their own. You are bound to look after no one, except yourself."

Smell of burning fur haunted him. "I saved a life. I have taken a responsibility--"

"You were a FOOL." The face loomed closer, teeth bared in fury. "You cannot even fathom the reasons for your own actions. The Maximal lack of logic has begun to rub off on you."

"Maximal weakness is contagious." Megatron loomed over his shoulder, chuckling. "Ah Dinobot, how quickly you fall apart without me. How quickly you forget what it means to be Predacon. You should return, before it's too late..."

"Leave them!" his own face shouted at him. "Abandon these fools before you share their fate!"

"We're better off without you, anyway." Primal's voice, somewhere in the darkness off to his left. "I never would never have taken you in if I didn't pity you--"

"NO!"

"Of course. Pity is a Maximal trait. We all pity you, Dinobot. Because you will never be one of us, and yet you're no longer a Predacon."

"Such tragedy," said Megatron. "You left me because I didn't respect you. But you've found no respect here, nooo."

He roared and spun to attack, but a hand wrapped around his throat. Dinobot struggled, shouting incoherently at the voices in the dark, challenging just one to come out and face him in fair combat, one chance, that was all he needed... he would not fail...

Dinobot growled, his teeth gnashing feebly at the air. Sensing rising distress and a dangerous core temperature increase, his stasis mechanisms kicked in. Systems powered down, energy was diverted from all but the most vital mechanisms, and the warrior's body slumped as his mind slipped into blackness... beyond the reach of dreams.

- - - - -

REVIEWER REPLY SECTION (You've got questions, I've got half-baked answers. If I don't, I'll make one up on the spot.)

flamingmarsh: Uhh, no. That's not even a spoiler. I'M NOT KILLING DINOBOT. It would shorten my love story. Besides, a lot of events unfold differently in this. I'm hijacking the series from late season one on (never was any good at following canon). So, anything can happen, and I'll probably give y'all whole new reasons to hate me later on, but I ain't killing the dinosaur. The rat would kill me if I did.

FriendoftheVampires: Told you he would. :P I KEEP MY WORD. Usually. So does Dinobot, so Rattrap better not even think about dying in the future.

Kayasuri-n: As you pointed out, he didn't have much choice. Also, Dinobot is a career soldier and tends not to feel pain if it isn't convenient. (I still remember him in Double Jeopardy, getting a hole shot in his shoulder and just giving it this annoyed look before telling Primal, "Our strategic disadvantage is considerable.")

Dinobot's thinking is that Rattrap must live, so he can berate the vermin later if he does throw up. Also, he's right -- hang around a robot rat long enough and you will get used to disgusting behavior.

Discovery Channel Obsessed Nut? PLEASE. I guarantee, you have nothing on me. I've been pronouncing "Compsognathus" since I was FIVE. Yes, most raptors were about turkey-sized, but some did grow quite a bit larger (Dinobot's proportions are about right for, say, Utahraptor) -- and really, considering the giant wasps and spiders and birds and oh yeah, RAT, I think it's clear not all of the beastmodes are to scale. What bothers me more is that this is set in Africa and both tyrannosaurids and dromaeosaurids (the "raptor" family) seem to be restricted to the northern hemisphere. I've had to swallow hard and accept that, along with the presence of (apparently) wolves and tigers, which could theoretically have wandered a ways from Asia but... arrgh. And of course the black widow is ONLY found in North America, which just screws things up still further. Trust me, I'm stretching belief as far as I can. Bear with me while my inner zoologist tries not to explode.

(Raptors also had feathers. Dinobot does not. Terrorsaur is likewise lacking the fur found on real pterosaurs. I figure since the scanner didn't have complete DNA to replicate from fossils, it just scanned the basic structure of the skeletons and then deduced the skin from the closest related animals in the area... which were probably lizards and snakes. Dinobot's skin looks vaguely like a monitor lizard's, so I'm guessing he's kind of an amalgam of 'raptor and modern reptiles cobbled together by the Darksyde's computer. Lucky him.)

It's amazing what you see watching the show as an adult, or even a teenager. I know the Dinobot/Rattrap vibes can be picked up by some kids (a friend of mine noticed it when she first watched the show in elementary school), but the Megatron vibes are a bit more subtle, and the Creepy Rhinox Factor is subtler still. Once you see 'em though, it's hard NOT to.

Finally, on the sword... see above. Yes, he left it sticking out of Inferno. At first it was a writing error; I realized I hadn't written him retrieving the sword, but this was during beta'ing process and I could've easily fixed it then. But I remembered times he'd left the sword behind in the show, and thought, "Nah. If anything will distract him enough to forget his weapon, this is it." It serves two purposes -- one, to show just how BAD Dinobot has it for Rattrap. The second purpose comes up next chapter.

(Next chapter is set in the Predacon base. You want creepy Megatron, you've GOT creepy Megatron.)