Sorry for the last cliffhanger, guys. I tried to make up for it with a little bit longer than normal chapter. That being said... Chapter 20! This series is by far the longest thing I have ever written, and there's still so much more. I just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone who has been reading since Ratchet stepped into that dark, dingy room under the fighting ring and also to those who have just started following Ratchet and the Twins' adventures. I may not always have the most timely or consistent posting schedule, but Puppy Love is definitely still chugging along.
Title: Puppy Love, Chapter 20
Fandom: Transformers G1 AU
Author: FuziPenguin
Pairing/Characters: Sideswipe/Sunstreaker, Ratchet, Ironhide, Jazz
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 3454
Summary/Warnings: Ratchet practices his medical skills and another discussion is had.
Disclaimer: This is a piece of fiction. No harm was intended in the creation of this work. All rights belong to the original creators.
Sunstreaker felt a rising panic as his spark called out for Sideswipe. His twin didn't answer and when the sound of breaking glass came, Sunstreaker's resolve broke as well. He pushed Ratchet towards the berth, and pointed a finger at him.
"Stay there!" he barked. Then he shoved the bedroom door aside and sprinted down the hallway. He paused just before the common room's doorway and warily poked his head around the edge, calling out as he did so.
The strained sounds of Sideswipe's voice giving him the all clear was like music to his audios. He moved into the doorway, and paused, assessing the room.
"You an' Ratch ok?" Jazz demanded, standing by the now broken window above Ratchet's desk.
"We're fine," Sunstreaker replied, optics searching for his brother. They alighted upon Sideswipe sitting in the middle of the common room floor, surrounded by the remnants of a shredded up pillow. Sideswipe's hand was pressed to his lower left abdomen.
Sunstreaker rushed to his twin's side, dropping to his knees and gently sliding Sideswipe's hand away. Energon immediately welled up from the still smoking tear in Sideswipe's armor, and Sunstreaker could see wires sparking in the depths of the wound. He immediately slammed his hand back over the hole.
Sideswipe met Sunstreaker's optics with a weak grin. "Almost had him," he boasted. "But the fragger brought a blaster to a fist fight."
"You're going to be fine," Sunstreaker said, as reassuringly as possible. His optics roved over his brother's form, looking for further wounds, and attempting to calm his own spark. There was no reason for this insidious fear that was crawling up Sunstreaker's back struts; they'd long ago lost track of their many assorted injuries sustained during the fights. This was just one more.
"Yeah, I know," Sideswipe said, patting Sunstreaker's arm. He didn't seem the least bit concerned that there was a large hole in his belly. "But he got away. Went out through the window. Jazz, do you…"
"Already got someone on it," Jazz said grimly, his blaster still in hand as his optics scanned the street below.
"You think he was after Ratchet?" Sideswipe asked, trying to stand, but barely moving a few inches before wobbling and falling onto his aft.
"Probably. I'd love to know how he got past us," Jazz remarked, his mouth components twisted in anger.
"What in the Pit happened!?" Ratchet demanded, rushing into the room. Both Sunstreaker and Jazz twitched at his sudden appearance. Sideswipe swayed where he sat as he turned to look at Ratchet.
"Oh, good, you're ok," Sideswipe said, exventing a relieved sigh.
Ratchet's optics immediately went to the bright blue energon beginning to pool under Sideswipe's hip.
"Lie back," Ratchet commanded, striding over and removing a box from his subspace. Sunstreaker recognized it as the travel medical kit that Ratchet kept on him at all times.
"I'm fine!" Sideswipe protested even as Ratchet knelt on his other side and pushed on his shoulder. Sideswipe landed on the floor with an ungraceful flop.
"No, you're not," Ratchet said, withdrawing tools from his kit. "You're hemorrhaging too much Energon. The shot must have torn through a big line."
Distantly, Sunstreaker was amazed and awed at how in control of the situation Ratchet appeared to be. Because Sunstreaker certainly didn't feel in control; he felt impotent and useless as his brother slowly bled out in front of him.
"Oh," Sideswipe replied, optics slowly spiraling in and out and growing dimmer. "That why I feel so fuzzy?"
"Yes. Jazz? Medical transport on its way?" Ratchet asked, indicating for Sunstreaker to move his hand.
"About 5 minutes away. Anythin' I can do to help?" Jazz asked.
"You can provide some extra light. Sunstreaker, I need you to let me see."
Sunstreaker glanced down at his hand and back up at Ratchet. He wanted to speak, to ask if Sideswipe was going to be ok. But he couldn't make his vocalizer work. For some reason, seeing the pool of Energon beneath Sideswipe now was so much worse than when they had been injured in their canine frames.
Ratchet must have known what Sunstreaker was thinking. He reached up a hand and gripped Sunstreaker's shoulder, squeezing tight once.
"It's a bad wound. But it's fixable. I just need you to let me get to work."
"But he's not a dog!" Sunstreaker blurted out.
"Different anatomy, same concepts. Move your hand, Sunstreaker," Ratchet instructed, his tone turning steely.
Sunstreaker blinked as his arm automatically responded to the command and slid back into his own lap. More Energon welled up from the hole in Sideswipe's belly as Jazz moved to stand over them, one headlight flicking on and shining down over Sideswipe's frame.
Sunstreaker shifted, moving to kneel by Sideswipe's shoulders. He leaned over and peered into Sideswipe's face, feeling flickers of pain along their bond as Sideswipe began losing control over his block.
"Sideswipe? This is going to hurt a bit," Ratchet warned, placing a hand on Sideswipe's stomach, fingers bracketing one side of the wound. The other hand held a clamp above it, ready and waiting. "I don't have time for a pain block."
"Yeah," Sideswipe replied faintly, his optics locked trustingly on Sunstreaker's. "That's ok."
"I just have to get this line clamped off," Ratchet muttered, plunging his fingers inside the wound. Sideswipe made a garbled sound at the intrusion, his hand whipping up to grasp Sunstreaker's wrist in a vise-like grip.
"Hold still, Red," Ratchet warned, his hand nearly completely buried in Sideswipe's abdomen.
"Trying to," Sideswipe replied through gritted denta. His optic shutters were clamped shut, but other than that, he didn't even twitch as Ratchet's hand twisted and slipped a centimeter deeper. Sunstreaker soothingly stroked a hand over Sideswipe's cheekstrut, a subvocal croon emerging from his chassis. Silently, he urged Ratchet to work faster.
"Ah ha!" Ratchet said triumphantly, the clamp sliding in alongside Ratchet's hand. "Got it. There," he said, removing his hand. "That'll hold for a bit. Now, let's get some pain meds into you."
"That'd be awesome," Sideswipe murmured, burying his faceplates against Sunstreaker's knee.
"This feels a little too familiar, Sides," Ratchet said softly as he removed a vial from his bag. He carefully injected a syringe and began drawing up the liquid that was inside the bottle. "You're not even a week out from your last injury."
"I'm sorry. I had him though. Up until the blaster. Didn't I, Jazz?" Sideswipe asked, the last few words slurring as Ratchet injected the medication into Sideswipe's closest port.
"That ya did, Siders," Jazz said warmly. "Ya did real good."
"I totally… had… hmm…" Sideswipe said, trailing off. Sunstreaker experienced a spike of panic as his brother's ventilations dramatically slowed, but he relaxed as he watched the lines of tension drain away from Sideswipe's frame.
"All right, he's completely under now," Ratchet said, sitting back on his heels. The vet made a motion to rub a hand over his faceplates, but Jazz stepped forward and grabbed his wrist. Ratchet looked up, startled, and then his optics widened at the copious amounts of Energon on his fingers.
"Oh. Thanks," Ratchet said, faintly.
"You're welcome. The paramedics just arrived. Why don't ya take a sit down over here?" Jazz said, laying a hand on Ratchet's shoulder.
"No, no, I need to finish this. The clamp isn't stable enough for transport; that line is too large," Ratchet said, shaking his head and reaching back into his bag. He retrieved a spool of extra-fine cabling and a threading tool, dabbing at the wound with a cloth to soak up the energon that was obscuring his view. With a few quick motions, Ratchet placed several ligatures around the torn energon line and removed the clamp. He briefly monitored the site for further hemorrhaging.
"That should keep until surgery," Ratchet said.
"He needs to have surgery?" Sunstreaker asked, absently stroking the sides of Sideswipe's helm.
"That line will need to be replaced. It help supplies the lower left side of his frame. It's too big to leave ligated," Ratchet explained. Sunstreaker nodded numbly, unable to keep from sending out tentative pulses across their bond. Each one bounced back silence, and it was making him feel hopelessly alone despite the warm plating beneath his hands.
There was a knock on the door and as it slid aside, two smallish mechs with large bags in their hands walked into the apartment. They both had the identifying marks of paramedics, and Ratchet relaxed slightly at their appearance. They immediately strode over, and Ratchet moved to stand. He swayed once he gained his feet, and Jazz steadied him. Sunstreaker wavered in place, concern for his guardian warring with protectiveness over his twin.
"Sunstreaker," Ratchet called, gesturing for him to stand. Sunstreaker glared at the nameless mechs but stood and moved to Ratchet's side, subtly sliding a hand across Ratchet's lower back. Ratchet leaned into the contact, vents hitching once before he drew himself up.
"The left iliac line was nicked. I ligated it with 1-0 cable, 2 ligatures above, 2 below," Ratchet offered.
One of the mechs bent forward, examining the interior of the wound. "Looks good to me," he said. "You a surgeon?"
"Veterinary," Ratchet replied. The two mechs exchanged a look before one of them glanced up, optics scanning Ratchet's form. Sunstreaker shifted on his feet, disliking the assessing expression on the mech's faceplates.
"One of the best at the Veterinary Academy," Jazz supplied, clapping Ratchet on his shoulder, and visor glinting with a warning.
Both of the paramedics nodded and returned to assessing Sideswipe's vital signs. "We'll set up a transfusion and then get him ready for transport," the senior paramedic said.
"Huh. He's just a youngling," the junior medic said, after plugging into Sideswipe's cervical medical port.
"Yes. Mine," Ratchet said, optics avidly watching every movement of the paramedics' hands.
"Would never have guessed from his size," the junior medic commented. "You'll be following us to the hospital, then?"
Ratchet opened his lipplates and then slammed them shut after glancing up at Sunstreaker. Sunstreaker was confused until Ratchet spoke.
"We'll walk, so if you need any information now…"
"No," Sunstreaker interrupted. "Go with them," he urged Ratchet, thinking how lost he would feel if he woke up in a strange place with unknown mechs surrounding him. "I'll catch up with you."
"Ironhide just arrived. He'll escort ya, Ratch. I'll follow along with Sunny," Jazz said. Ratchet looked from Jazz to Sunstreaker and then over at Sideswipe. He nodded slowly.
"If you're sure," Ratchet said, meeting Sunstreaker's optics.
"He'll need one of us there. And you can drive," Sunstreaker replied, feeling a twist in his spark at his twin being taken away from him. But he trusted Ratchet implicitly when it came to his brother's care.
"We're all set here," the senior medic said, the two of them hefting Sideswipe aloft onto a stretcher. Ratchet reached out and threaded his fingers with Sunstreaker's, squeezing once before breaking away to follow along behind the paramedics.
Through the open doorway, Sunstreaker saw Ironhide sidestep the paramedics as they started down the stairs. He approached Ratchet as the vet moved out of the apartment. Ironhide stepped forward, hands gently landing on Ratchet's shoulders. Sunstreaker's optics spiraled outwards in surprise as Ratchet leaned forward and briefly rested his forehelm against Ironhide's chest, his shoulders sagging. It was too far away to hear, especially with the clatter of the paramedics walking down the stairs, but Sunstreaker watched as they exchanged briefed words.
Apparently interested in what had made Sunstreaker stiffen, Jazz leaned around him and peered into the hallway. Jazz watched for a moment and then snorted.
"Huh. Shoulda seen that comin'," Jazz said before turning back around to survey the apartment.
"Seen what coming?" Sunstreaker asked, feeling his optic ridges furrow as Ironhide and Ratchet turned, starting down the stairs. When had Ratchet and Ironhide gotten so close?
Jazz's head whipped around, and he stared at Sunstreaker for a long moment. Then he grinned and shook his helm. "Uh uh. None of my business. Come on, my mech. Let's clean up a bit, fix this window, and then be on our way."
"Is Ratchet going to be ok?" Sunstreaker asked as he moved to help Jazz. The Enforcer seemed pretty set on not supplying Sunstreaker with any answers which meant he would have to ask Ratchet directly. "I mean along the way? Ironhide is good, but…"
"Blue's on the rooftops, watchin' their backs, and Hound is meetin' them halfway. They should be all right."
"Who was this guy?" Sunstreaker asked. "How are you going to catch him?"
"Not sure. But Mirage is trackin' him now. No one gets away from 'Raj, so we'll find out soon."
Sunstreaker stood, gazing out of the broken window for several moments. He hoped that Mirage found the mech soon; he was going to rip him limb from limb for harming his twin.
Ratchet sat by Sideswipe's berthside, counting ventilations. Each intake and outtake of air, each blip of a spark beat. And Ratchet despaired.
The assassin hadn't been there for Sideswipe or Sunstreaker. He had been there for Ratchet, and Sideswipe had gotten in the way. His youngling had blindly rushed into danger on Ratchet's behalf and had almost gotten himself offlined. And if Sideswipe's spark failed, Ratchet had no illusions that Sunstreaker wouldn't follow his twin.
Ratcet had already been visited by an anonymous member of the Youngling Protection Services inquiring into the matter, likely alerted by the hospital staff. Ratchet didn't blame any of them; they were only concerned with the twins' health and wellbeing.
The agent hadn't stayed long; Ironhide's looming and disapproving presence had made sure of that.
But doubt had set in. Ratchet was an indirect danger to the twins. The longer they stayed with him, the more danger they would be in.
Ratchet's optics rose from Sideswipe's serene faceplates to alight upon Sunstreaker's, the yellow twin curled as close as possible to his brother on Sideswipe's opposite side. The attending surgeon had frowned when he had come to check in on Sideswipe postop and seen Sunstreaker stretched out alongside his patient. But then he had sighed and smiled ruefully before leaving with a muttered 'twins!'.
Ratchet had taken an immediate liking to the elderly surgeon; he had been direct and through, an approach that Ratchet himself was well known for. The compliment Ratchet had been paid for his quick thinking and neat work hadn't hurt either.
The surgeon, Clamper, had told him that if Ratchet had waited but five minutes longer, Sideswipe would have bled out. All and all, the surgical repair had been quick and easy, but the knowledge that if Ratchet hadn't been there… Ratchet shuddered to think of it.
"Stop it," a deep voice commanded from behind Ratchet. He startled out of his thoughts, turning and looking at the dark Enforcer standing in the corner. Ironhide had been largely silent after asking Ratchet if he had been hurt. The Enforcer had been Ratchet's watchful shadow as he had followed the paramedics to the hospital. Ratchet supposed he should have been more worried about another assassin, but at the time he hadn't cared. He had wanted his youngling seen to, wanted to see that bright, infectious grin flash over Sideswipe faceplate's once more.
"Stop what?" Ratchet asked.
"Yer thinkin' so hard, yer processor's smokin'," Ironhide replied. "Wasn't yer fault."
"Not directly, no," Ratchet said. "But that mech was there for me, wasn't he?"
Ironhide cast his optics to the side and shifted in place. "Probably. Twins saved yer life."
"They're not supposed to!" Ratchet burst out, fully turning on his stool to address Ironhide. "They're supposed to watch movies and prank the building, not play guard on me every hour of the day! I just want them to be younglings!"
"They are, and they ain't," Ironhide said. "If they lived out in some of the border cities, they'd be working full hours and probably have sparklings of their own at this age."
"But they're here!" Ratchet returned. "And they've never had the chance to be sparklings. I just wanted to give them that."
"Ya have, Ratch. But nothin' ya do is going to make them forget what they've learned in the rings. And they love ya too much to just stand back and let someone else fight for ya."
Ratchet shook his head, looking back to Sideswipe's still form. "He almost died," he whispered. "Even if YPS doesn't take them away from me, how can I, in good conscience, continue to put them in danger?"
"That afthead TopNotch's goin' to jail permanent," Ironhide said, waving a hand through the air. "Yer lawyer's good. And with Sideswipe gettin' hurt so close to the trial, jury's goin' to believe every word ya say."
"And what's to keep him from doing the same thing that he's doing now? Hiring mechs to do his dirty work?" Ratchet spat.
"Prowl will figure out something," a new voice said.
Ratchet's helm whipped around to see Sunstreaker's optics gazing at Ratchet. He instantly felt horrible that their raised voices had awoken the tired youngling.
"I'm sorry, Sunny," Ratchet said. He reached over Sideswipe and cuped Sunstreaker's cheek strut. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"It's all right. "Sides' pain meds are wearing off so he's starting to come out of stasis," Sunstreaker reported, his bond with his twin giving him more insight than any doctor or medic could ever have.
"He wasn't supposed to wake up for several hours yet," Ratchet said, his optics raking over the orders sitting on a data pad at the head of the berth.
"Our systems burn through pain meds faster than most other mechs."
"I'll call the nurse."
"Don't worry about it," Sunstreaker said as Ratchet rose from his chair. "Compared to his leg, this isn't that bad. And you know how loopy the meds make him."
"He still shouldn't be in pain," Ratchet said, fretting. He was distracted, though, as Sideswipe twitched on the berth, a murmur escaping him.
"No," Sunstreaker agreed, "but we can't afford to have our reflexes dulled by drugs, either. Not if the fraggers are going to start coming into our home."
Ratchet looked up sharply. "We'll talk about that later."
Sunstreaker sat up and rolled his head around, neck cables stretching to relieve the tension created by the awkward position he had been lying in. "No. We'll talk about it now."
Rearing back in surprise at Sunstreaker's firm tone, Ratchet glanced over his shoulder to see Ironhide looking at the yellow twin with an assessing expression.
"We're going to keep training with Ironhide, as long as he's willing," Sunstreaker stated, his optics flicking up to glance at the Enforcer.
"I'm willin'," Ironhide rumbled.
Ratchet looked from Ironhide to Sunstreaker and back with wide optics and a dropped open jaw. "What? No, I…"
"We're going to keep training," Sunstreaker reiterated with narrowed optics, "so we can protect you and ourselves. Because we're not leaving you, and you're not giving us up. No matter what happens with TopNotch, we'll work through it together."
"I… I told you…"
"I know what you told us," Sunstreaker said. "But that was before that mech came after you. Now, things have changed."
Ratchet stared at his youngling, flabbergasted. "But… you…"
"Think ya better listen to the bitlet," Ironhide said, amusement evident in his tone. "He sounds pretty set on it."
Ratchet ducked his head, processor awhirl. "I'll think about it," he said faintly. "But I still don't see how this will help anything. TopNotch is still going to send hired mechs after us."
"Like I said, Prowl will come up with a plan. Have an informant in jail, or something. He seems good at coming up with plans," Sunstreaker said with a faint smile.
"He is pretty good with the ideas," Ironhide added.
Ratchet looked back up, staring into Sunstreaker's determined and earnest optics. His youngling sounded so certain… it would be so easy to latch onto that quiet confidence.
"I want you both to be safe and happy," Ratchet finally said, knowing when he was beat. "That's all I want."
Sunstreaker leaned forward, return stare intense. "We never knew what it was to be happy until we met you, Ratchet," he said, quietly. "And as to being safe… well, me and Sides, we're built for unsafe. It's all good."
Before Ratchet could reply to that heartfelt admission, Sideswipe moaned quietly and shifted on the berth.
"Ugh," he muttered. "Did Ironhide throw me against the wall again?"
Sunstreaker chuckled even as Ratchet sat up straight and glared at Ironhide, his finger jabbing through the air in silent accusation.
End Chapter 20