Chapter 12: The Bringer of Gifts

A/N: I decided that G1 Season 2 was still out of my league (for now), so I'm letting Mabel back in, but she has a minor role. Sorry for the long delay. This was all done in one sitting, and I think this will run through some editing when I get the time. But, I hope the emotion attracts more than the Engrish does. Hee.

And please forgive the sudden drop in standard/style/whatever. I wrote this during work, but I will do something about this.

Disclaimer: Transformers isn't mine. It's Hasbro's and Takara's. Mabel's mine though, and not free for use.


"Ssss… ow…"

"Watch it, Trailbreaker," Ironhide hissed from the adjacent recharge berth, "any louder an' Ratchet will skin yer hide."

Funny he should mention that, for it was his 'hide' that ached.

A horrific accident occurred when a group of Autobots left the Ark to face a Decepticon threat. It was the Insecticons, harvesting energy from an oil refinery. One of them had released its electrical charge as a getaway plan.

As everyone else could guess, that part of the refinery went kablooey.

The group of eight Autobots, namely Trailbreaker, Ironhide, Bumblebee, Gears, Windcharger, Jazz, Optimus Prime and Sunstreaker were grilled severely in the explosion.

Thank goodness for the human crew that evacuated, for some of them witnessed the harrowing inferno and accident and immediately dialed the Ark to send help for their comrades.

The rescue crew was very miffed to find their friends nearly melted to slag (and the most irate of all being the sole, poor medic), but repaired Optimus Prime to a functional mode that allowed more of the wounded to ride in his trailer. The group towed back their leader and friends to the Ark.

After Ratchet's care and concern was dished out and Wheeljack's reassuring sympathies that they should heal by tomorrow, the group of eight would have to spend the next twenty-four human hours in the medical ward, under the ever-observant eye of the CMO.

It was nearing the end of the evening, so as Trailbreaker's chronometer told him. He really didn't care about the clock; he worried a little more for his stinging wounds that were under auto-recovery. One of the buzzards, Bombshell he believed, nailed him on both arms and some slag had seeped into the wound. Add in the after-effects of a near melt-down and it was quite a something to handle.

But, as he turned to face Ironhide and attempted to look down the row of wounded, he could see, and guess, that the others fared as badly as he did.

There was nothing better to do than to bear with it in offline mode.

He rotated his head to face the ceiling, and powered his optics down.

There really was nothing better to do.

Wait… what was that?

His audios were picking up foreign sounds… by his berth-side?

He was not Jazz, but he could try to tune his hearing sensitivity up a few notches.

That, he did.

"Okay. Ready?"

"Mmhmm."

"One, two, three!"

The sound of soft groaning and grunting reached his audios, a fair bit louder than the whispering.

"Got it!"

Something clanked onto the side of his berth, and he was aware of something coming into contact with his hand – his burnt hand.

"Ow!"

"Trailbreaker!" Ironhide hissed, clearly annoyed.

His head turned to the distraction and powered on his optics.

A pretty little sight greeted him.

In the blue glow of his optics was a potted daffodil, tied with a yellow ribbon around the pot's rim and a tiny slip attached to the bow.

A blonde head was by the side of a berth bed, and a small outreached arm was leading straight to the flower.

"Carly?"

Trailbreaker's voice was a tad too loud.

"Carly?"

That was Ironhide.

"CARLY, GET OFF MY HAND!"

The lights from above blazed down, bringing a searing glow of light around the room.

With the coming of the light came shrieks of surprise, followed by the sounds of some things falling to the floor. Carly disappeared from Trailbreaker's view with a cry of her own.

Despite himself and the possibility of Ratchet being around, Trailbreaker pushed himself upright and peered down.

Sprawled on a makeshift landing of pillows were Carly, Spike and Mabel. The children had landed on their backs, and Spike was nursing a hurt hand.

Further away from the makeshift bed were a row of flowers, much like his little flower but were not potted.

There were sheepish grins on the children's faces.

Ratchet, however, scowled from the light switch.

"Get out!"

The children quickly reacted, ready to grab the flowers and leave, but Trailbreaker halted them.

"What's this about?"

"Out!"

"Ratchet," Optimus's calm voice came from somewhere down the row, "let them talk."

Everyone was seated up in their bunk now, far from an offline state. More than a few of them were sour about their interrupted and painful rest.

The CMO gave a leer at the leader, sour to the core, but he let his leader have his way.

Carly looked to Mabel in dumbfounded silence. Mabel looked back at Carly with equal silence.

Both finally looked to Spike.

"Well… err… err…"

"Err what?" Trailbreaker chuckled.

"Dad heard about the accident from Teletraan–One and told Carly, Mabel and me when we came back from school. Mabel and Carly ran out to get some flowers from the florist's, and we wrote get-well cards for you all.

Well… we kinda wanted to give them to you without disturbing you all… but…"

"We stacked each other up to reach the berths. Carly on top, Spike in the middle and me at the bottom," Mabel added, in efforts to appease, "but… if you guys mind…"

"It's a little too late to say that," Trailbreaker laughed, though Spike shrank, "but by the looks of these beauties, I'm sure we won't mind."

"Whaddya mean?" Jazz queried.

Oh yes, the others behind him could not see the little natural treasures the kids brought.

The black four-wheel-drive turned over and displayed his daffodil for the others to see.

The incredulous optics from his fellow men agreed with him.

"Well, ain't that a spark-tickler," Ironhide smiled.

"Hmm," Optimus nodded. He turned to Ratchet, "you won't mind helping the humans out with this small task, would you Ratchet?"

"If it gets them out faster, I won't," Ratchet stalked over to the children and bent down.

Soon, all the flowers had been distributed. Each Autobot received a different flower: A yellow rose for Ironhide (Mabel coined it the Yellow Rose of Texas), a sunflower for Sunstreaker (for the lack of a better idea), different carnations for each of the Mini-bots, a red rose for Optimus Prime (no blue roses, nor white ones), a pink one for Jazz (Carly chose it) and the aforementioned daffodil for Trailbreaker.

All was said and done, and Ratchet seemed to be through with it.

"All right, take your stuff and get out!"

"Bye guys!"

"Get well soon!"

"See you tomorrow!"

With that, the three kids grabbed their pillows and zipped out of the room. The door closed shut, and Ratchet dimmed the lights.