Okay. I unintentionally lied. Next chapter will be the last one. The general consensus was that Dinobot deserved a section of her own to get a glimpse into her own point of view, which I wholeheartedly agree with and was already planning to do in any event. It just went a little bit longer than expected, so the "last" chapter was cut in half.

Chapter Eleven: Out of Patience

Dinobot moved swiftly through the Axalon's lower passageway, the heavy thud-click of her footsteps echoing down the long empty corridors into the distance. The warrioress walked straight and tall, her stride stiff with purpose and optics bright with determination.

It had been three days now since she'd been rescued from Megatron and brought back to base. Despite the CR chambers being unable to do anything to combat Tarantulus's neural serum, she'd recovered fairly quickly, all things considered. After waking from her drugged stupor in the Axalon's med-bay and her rather startling encounter with the smallest member of her adopted faction, she'd been able to return to her personal quarters later that same day to recover in peace far away from the presence of any prying optics.

She'd spent the next solar cycle and a half feeling slightly groggy and just overall… off, but had refused to let herself tolerate such weakness and forced herself to return to duty the very next day after her inglorious return. Optimus had tried to convince her to return to her rooms to rest, but relented when Dinobot finally reached the end of her proverbial limit and snapped at him to leave her in peace so she could do her duties. The transmetal gorilla had said nothing more on the matter after that and left her to herself which, unfortunately, was more than she could say for some of the others of the crew…

The newest Predacon-defectors, Blackarachnia and Silverbolt, had begun their assimilation into the crew. The black widow kept mostly to herself and generally scorned anyone else's attempt to talk to her - something Dinobot understood perfectly well. When she first join Primal's crew, her new Maximal comrades and their foreign ways had at times been almost too much for her to bear. It had taken a long time before she had felt comfortable enough (or even had the smallest desire) to spend any more time with her crewmates than what was strictly demanded of her.

Although Dinobot had never cared much for Blackarachnia one way or the other due to their different allegiances until just recently, she felt a subtle, unbidden connection with the female spider. Whether that was because they were both ex-Predacon femmes amongst Maximals or because it had been Blackarachnia who had ultimately helped her escape from Megatron, Dinobot felt indebted and bound by honor to somehow someday repay the black widow for saving her from an unspeakable fate.

The new mech, Silverbolt, however, was experiencing no such difficulties adjusting to his new faction. With a determination and zealous sense of chivalry that bordered on embarrassing at times (albeit honorable in its sincerity), the transmetal fuzor had devoted himself to Optimus and the Maximal cause, thus earning himself almost an instant place amongst the crew.

But while Dinobot had only had to put up with Blackarachnia and Silverbolt's presence from a distance thus far - the two too busy with other things to bother her (not that she was complaining in any way, mind you), Airazor had been a completely different story…

Dinobot's ordeal with Megatron seemed to have struck some kind of cord in the female flier. While in med-bay, Airazor had stationed herself beside Dinobot's berth after Rattrap had fled; anxiously insisted on helping her back to her quarters even when Dinobot had snapped that she was more than capable of walking by herself; and the next day seemed to always being hovering somewhere on the edge of Dinobot's peripheral vision like a mother hen. Ever since, the flier had become an almost constant presence by her side - whether it be to ask her a meaningless question or to make some absentminded comment about the weather, the female scout was always somewhere close.

Dinobot at first had been outraged that Airazor seemed to think she was still too weak to care for herself and needed constant attention like a sparkling. The incident with Megatron had bruised Dinobot's pride enough without someone constantly reminding her how incapacitated she'd been to have to rely on her comrades to save her. The second day after her return, she had been on the verge of snapping at the flier to just leave her alone already when she'd come to the sudden and unsettling epiphany that Airazor was not actually trying to humiliate her with her continued hovering, but rather was trying to start a tentative friendship with the raptor.

The idea of friendship was still a slightly foreign concept to Dinobot. Friends were a rarity amongst Predacons, especially casual ones. Because to establish even a passing relationship with another required an element of trust; and trust was not something Predacons just doled out to every 'bot that came along like Maximals seemed to do. Trust had to be earned. If anything, trust for the average Predacon was just another tool to manipulate or exploit. So to have Airazor innocently seek her out for no other reason than a desire for company and light conversation unnerved Dinobot slightly. Perhaps not so much that the soft-spoken flier was trying to bridge the gap between them, but rather that she couldn't find it in her spark to dissuade the other femme more strongly.

Frag…

The Maximals and their idealistic ways were rubbing off on her in more ways than she ever suspected. If she wasn't careful she was going to go soft around the edges - something a warrior could not afford to do.

Her latest encounter with Megatron was proof enough of that…

Dinobot wasn't even aware she'd begun to growl under her intakes until she felt her chest armor begin to literally vibrate against her substructure. Disgust wasn't a strong enough word to describe how she felt about what had almost happened. When the Vermin had told her what Megatron had been planning to do - how he'd intended to force her into a Sparkbond while she'd been unable to do anything to stop it - made Dinobot almost queasy to the coolant tanks. Her claws unconsciously curled into two shaking fists by her sides. The angry thud-click of her footsteps ricocheted against the metal walls and reverberated down the corridors like the echo of consecutive grenade blasts.

That slagger… That Pit-spawned honorless excuse for a 'bot… She would take nothing but the greatest joy in tearing the spark from Megatron's chest cavity for what he'd tried to do. How dare he. How dare he assume she'd ever sell herself for wealth or power; let alone to a 'bot like him. She had fought too long and too hard for her to consider dishonoring everything she'd sacrificed to overcome the prejudices and double-standards levied against her sex. How could she have ever looked at herself in a mirror again if she'd accepted Megatron's offer (tempting though it might have been for that one brief nano-klick of time)?

The answer was that she never could have, even if the offer hadn't come from a mech as reprehensible and morally repugnant as Megatron. But to think that Megatron had been about to force a Sparkbond on her - had almost enslaved the very essence of her being to him in a way she could have never escaped from except through death - made Dinobot's circuits run cold with subdued, mech-fluid-freezing horror.

It had been close. So unsettling, frighteningly close… If Optimus and his crew hadn't shown up when they did they might have been too late to do anything to stop the tyrant.

Dinobot's pace slowed and came to a shaky halt in the middle of the hallway. She had to take a deep intake to compose herself as the ramifications of what had almost been (not for the first time) made her processor hitch with a minor surge of panic.

Her… bonded to Megatron. The mere thought of it made a thin film of condensation break out across her artificial raptor skin. What would she have done if the worst had actually happened? She would have been unable to fight off Megatron's advances. Would have been physically bound to the warlord in a way that her own life would have depended on his continued existence. Would have been slave to him in every single way that mattered to a sentient being. She would have probably terminated herself to escape the horror of such a fate, but the idea of having her spark being defiled and honor tarnished in such a way nonetheless sent a stab of cold straight through the battle-toughened femme's core.

If Optimus and his Maximals hadn't arrived when they did…

Dinobot couldn't bear to follow that line of code any further and so abruptly cut it short. After all, it did no good contemplating what could have been. Only what she could have done differently to avoid being caught in such a situation in the first place. Disgust once more surged through Dinobot's circuits. But this time not towards the Predacon warlord, but towards herself.

It had been so close and she only had herself to blame for it. She had let herself become captured in the midst of battle and taken prisoner. Then, not only had she failed to defend herself or earn an honorable death on the battlefield, she had allowed herself to be goaded into a reckless attack and injected with a powerful unknown chemical.

Unacceptable. Disgraceful. She was an embarrassment to her caste. She didn't care what the garbage-eating rodent said, she should have been stronger. A true warrior would have never allowed herself to be captured in such a shameful manner or put into a situation that her very honor and reputation had been put at stake. Even now, several days after her rescue, she couldn't understand how her fellow Maximals could stand to look at her. They'd seen how weak she could be. She couldn't imagine how she'd appeared when they'd found her: incoherent, shaking and so pathetic looking the enemy had actually taken pity on her. Dinobot felt like she could deactivate from shame. How could they bear to keep her among them? Yet day after day they continued to interact with her as if nothing had happened, as if they didn't care that she'd disgraced herself so badly and were (Primus damn her to the Pit) actually happy to have her back. She couldn't understand it. It made no sense! The only explanation she had was that it was just another example of how the Maximals let their softer programming rule their logic. The rodent had said that he didn't care what had happened. That he didn't think any less of her and still respected her.

Dinobot's actuator hitched slightly at the memory and was loathe to admit it was not in an entirely unpleasant way. That tiny fool… What did he know? The mouse was nothing more than a pestilence ridden nuisance. What should his opinion matter to her?

Apparently more than she'd thought if how much Rattrap's words had affected her as she'd laid there in med-bay sick to the coolant tanks and too weak to sit up was any indicator…

She'd been more than a little shocked to drift awake and find Rattrap of all 'bots sitting by her berthside as though he was actually in some inconceivable way worried about her. She'd been startled at first by his presence but had refused to read any real meaning into it. Maximals were strange when it came to injured comrades. Half the time the entire crew seemed to wait with bated intakes until each and every member was safely out of the CR chambers. But to hear Rattrap say what she'd secretly wanted to hear more than anything else from another 'bot had almost been too much for Dinobot's groggy circuits to process: to be told that her disgrace, even if it was only from a Maximal's rosy-colored view of the world, was not her fault. That she was not to blame for what had almost happened. And then when he'd leaned down with absolutely no warning to smash his lips down against her own as she'd vented her frustration and self-disgust…

Dinobot felt her spark pulse faster at the memory. Dear Primus above in Nirvana, where the frag had that come from?! Even now three days after the fact, the memory still managed to make her fuel lines pump faster and her circuits fritz in confusion.

The rat had kissed her! Her! His self-proclaimed enemy and living embodiment of everything he loathed and hated in the world.

To say she'd been surprised by Rattrap's kiss would have been an understatement. From the moment she'd joined Primal's crew the tiny spy had never treated her as anything more than a hated enemy. Vicious insults and the occasional physical blow had become so commonplace between them that Optimus had all but given up trying to get them to work together. Dinobot had lost count of the number of times she'd come within nano-klicks of tearing the annoying little rat's head right off his shoulders.

But to say she hadn't enjoyed that kiss (startling though it might have been at first) would have been a complete lie. Dinobot was loathe to admit it but she'd begun to develop feelings for the rodent. Before she'd been forced to reveal her true identity she'd begun to slowly tolerate Rattrap's presence more and more as time progressed and Optimus forced them to work together more often. It burned her to the core to admit it, but Primus damn her if some small part of her hadn't begun to actually look forward to their frequent clashes. Rattrap was the only one amongst the crew of Maximals that dared stand up to her. All the others were either too intimidated, passive or soft at spark to challenge her. Even Primal himself more often than not refused to respond to conflict with aggression and rather tried to resolve things through diplomacy and patience. Dinobot was pretty sure if it hadn't been for Rattrap and their shared animosity, she would have gone insane her first few months with the crew before she'd become more acclimated to their peaceful ways.

The vermin was annoying, stank of garbage, possessed the worst speaking mannerisms she'd ever heard and was infuriating to the point of conjuring up thoughts of violent murder in her on an almost continual basis. But despite all the spy's shortcomings Dinobot could not deny the rat possessed some other redeeming qualities: his resourcefulness; his sly, calculating intelligence both in battle and in their verbal spars; his loyalty to his commander and friends; and the occasional hint of the spy's own personal (albeit questionable) code of honor.

Despite his stunted size, Rattrap consistantly managed to hold his own in battle. It was rare that the spy ever returned to base in need of major repairs. Granted he often resorted to slightly less honorable methods of fighting than Dinobot normally would have approved of, but the fact remained that he was a skilled and reliable fighter in his own right. Nor had it escaped Dinobot's notice that despite all the vermin's frequent whining about his and everyone else's imminent demise, he never ran when battle was upon him or when one of his crewmates was truly in need of assistance. Despite all his complaints and ingrained sense of self-preservation, Rattrap was almost always one of the first to help a friend in need.

If that was not a sign of a belied sense of honor buried somewhere deep in the rat's neural codes nothing was…

Dinobot vented a heavy cycle of air. She hated herself for feeling such things, but there was no denying she found Rattrap's cocky attitude and pessimistic sarcasm unexplainably attractive. He was different from almost every other mech she'd ever met. Most mechs, both Predacon and Maximal, treated her like a second-class being. From her youngest stellar-cycles she'd fought to earn a place amongst Cybertron's mech-saturated population. But always, no matter how hard she worked or how much precious metal or energon she shed, it was never good enough. It didn't matter if she could best almost any 'bot - whether mech or femme - in hand to hand combat or was more intelligent than half the mechs that were continually promoted to positions of authority over her, she was always seen as inferior to her masculine counterparts. Never an equal. Even those that claimed they didn't let gender-programming affect their logic would at some point betray their bigotry. After so many decades of discrimination and unrewarded effort Dinobot had begun to wonder if her race's bias wasn't actually some line of code written into every Cybertronian mech's basic programming. It was this dawning sense of disillusionment that had eventually prompted her to seek out ways to escape the cageless prison of social restraints and begin her transformation to a mech.

But Rattrap… Even after discovering the truth of her gender, the vermin did not try to assert power over her. He did not try to order her about or question her abilities or suddenly think himself better than her. Even after her capture and embarrassing subjugation at Megatron's hands, the rat remained respectful towards her. Fearfully respectful, perhaps. And rightly so. Although that respect did not seem to extend to his dirty jokes and backhanded snide remarks, he did remain respectful to her when it came to her skills and prowess on the battlefield…

Despite a rocky start immediately after the quantum surge, when all was said and done and everything taken into account Rattrap still treated her the exact same way he had before she'd been forced to shed her damaged mech armor and reveal her true identity.

Or at least until the tiny spy had decided to swoop down and capture her lips in a searing kiss…

Dinobot unconsciously reached up and pressed the tips of two claws to her mouth, as if to simulate the memory of the smaller bot's lips against her own. Primus… it had happened so fast she hadn't known how to react. Not only had Rattrap (the living bane of her existence!) just kissed her, but he had done so with passion and reckless, lustful desperation. Almost as if some long denied desire had finally overrun any line of logic the mouse might have had and unceremoniously prompted him to act.

But perhaps more startling had not been Rattrap's kiss, but rather the intensity of the desire stirred inside Dinobot's own systems by it. For longer than she cared to admit, Dinobot had begun to acknowledge the unbidden attraction she felt for the smaller 'bot. Long before she'd been forced to shed her false identity she had recognized her budding feelings but kept them suppressed out of fear of her secret being discovered. Not only had there been no guarantee how Rattrap would have reacted when he discovered the truth of her programming, emotional attachments were not becoming of a warrior of either gender.

Or at least that was how Dinobot tried to rationalize it...

In any case, she'd never detected any hint that the spy saw her as anything more than a reliable comrade in arms. She tried to ease the sting of hopelessness and unrequited carnal desire with the knowledge that even if Rattrap did know about her true programming, he still wouldn't have wanted anything to do with her. He'd always been more than vocal about his views of those of Predacon ancestry. What would a Maximal like him want with a displaced Predacon criminal like her?

The answer had come dishearteningly quick to the warrioress and left her feeling distinctly hollow inside and shamefully spark-heavy. No doubt the vermin had a significant other waiting for him back on Cybertron. A Maximal significant other. And even if he didn't, Dinobot couldn't have risked decades of secrecy for one reckless dalliance she wasn't even sure guaranteed her any kind of physical gratification. No, it was best not to pursue such hopeless causes. Especially one in which she could potentially lose everything she'd worked so hard to achieve over the last few decades of her function.

But then, just when Dinobot was about to dismiss these confused feelings as nothing more than momentary glitches and rededicate herself to a life of stringent warrior monasticism, the rat had lunged forward and sealed his lips over hers in a graceless, desperate kiss. Dinobot remembered very little of the details of what Rattrap had said after he'd leaned back from over her and spoke. All she really remembered was the general idea of what the vermin was trying to express: that he didn't blame her for her disgraceful encounter with Megatron; that she was not unwelcome amongst Primal's crew; and that he still respected her.

As the emotions behind Rattrap's impromptu speech slowly sank into her stunned processor, Dinobot was almost certain she'd officially lost control of herself then. It was like having the rat make the first move had removed the last excuse Dinobot had to restrain herself from succumbing to her own desires. Warrior's code be damned! Even if she'd wanted to, she doubted she would have been able to fight the surge of unbridled desire that had flooded her circuits. All she really remembered was the overwhelming need to smash her lips back against the tiny spy's and devour him. She vaguely recalled mustering her strength to lean far enough up off the medical berth to capture the vermin's mouth once again in a brutal kiss, then pulling him down overtop her so that she might better plunder the smaller 'bot's mouth.

Everything after that was a blur. She remember running her claws up and down Rattrap's back which made the spy shudder and squirm enticingly above her. She remembered the vermin's small hands groping along her superstructure - rough, clumsy and rapacious in their desperation, but, oh, so welcome and gratifying. She remembered the sharp sting of rodent incisors against her dermal plates and the slippery hot feel of glossas gliding against each other in a fevered war for dominance.

Dinobot felt her internal systems involuntarily kick over and begin to run hotter just at the memory. Primus, the rat had tasted almost sweet. If she'd been just a little bit stronger she had no doubt she would have grabbed him right then and there and flipped him over down onto the berth beneath her. It had been so long since she'd been touched or felt the pulse of another living spark beside her own. But even after so long a time hiding under a shell of mech armor she still remembered the sensations and pleasure that could be garnered from the ministrations of another 'bot. And, Primus, how sinfully delicious those spy's hands had felt against her superstructure… Rubbing, teasing, tweaking. It was almost as if the rat knew just where and how to touch her to stimulate her more sensitive sensors.

Dinobot wasn't sure how far they would have gone if Optimus hadn't called Rattrap over the comlink at that exact moment, but she was uncomfortably aware she hadn't been processing with a full motherboard at the time. She'd simply been following her instinctual, more animalistic impulses. All she'd been able to think about was pulling the vermin closer. Of wanting to pin him to the berth beneath her and make him squeal in throaty passion as she showed him just what a Predacon femme was capable of.

But just as she'd been about to do so, Optimus's voice had unceremoniously shattered the moment and brought both her and her unexpected berth-partner slamming back to reality and flying apart from each other.

Rattrap had seemed just as stunned as she had been by the mutual passion that had fueled their brief but intense tryst. As the haze of lust had slowly dissipated Dinobot was unable to think of anything to say or do in the wake of what had just occurred. As much as she'd secretly hungered to taste and feel the tiny spy, the sudden realization the feeling was in some still-undefined way returned was slightly unnerving. She'd spent too much time believing there was no chance of reciprocation that the truth was almost too startling for her to accept. As much as the warrioress hated to admit weakness in any way, she'd almost been grateful when Rattrap stammered a weak excuse and promptly fled the room. Dinobot had spent at least fifteen minutes laying there in a stunned daze staring after the spy before Airazor finally appeared to distract her from her confused thoughts.

That had been three days ago and she still had yet to have any opportunity to confront Rattrap about what had happened. It was almost as if the rat was avoiding her. Whenever they passed each other in the control room, the spy made such an obvious attempt to ignore Dinobot as he made a hasty exit that the raptor couldn't help but feel slightly resentful for Rattrap's passive rejection.

Dinobot growled softly under her intakes. Such treatment was unbecoming and disrespectful. Especially when it was the vermin who had started this whole convoluted affair in the first place. She had been more than willing to dismiss her feelings as glitches of temporary insanity and continue on as if she couldn't care less one way or the other for the smelly rodent when the annoying little slagger had gone and kissed her out of nowhere!

Resuming her trek through the Axalon's inner corridor, Dinobot's angry footsteps thundered down the narrow passageways. If Dinobot acknowledged one personal flaw of hers it was her impatience. After three frustratingly long and emotionally draining days, she was sick and tired of waiting for the rodent to come to her and explain himself. She was not going to hide from this anymore. She wanted answers, and she wanted them now. Preparing herself the same way she would before rushing headlong into battle, Dinobot was bound and determined to get an explanation once and for all. Did Rattrap really want her, or had his actions been born out of nothing more than some twisted Maximal concern for an injured comrade? Whether for good or bad she wasn't going to be put off anymore. She was going to get the answers she sought even if she had to physically beat them out of the pestilence ridden mouse.

A number of identical looking doors appeared on either side of the hallway up ahead: the start of the crew's personal quarters. Dinobot swiftly directed herself towards the second one on the left. Barely even coming to a complete stop, the warrioress raised one curled fist and pounded it against the reinforced steel door in four consecutive, thundering blows. There was a brief pause before she heard the muted shuffle of movement from the other side. Another moment of tense impatience before the door finally swung inwards to reveal Rattrap staring back at her with a startled look of horror from the other side of the threshold.

The rat wasn't hiding from her anymore…

To Be Concluded…

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