Autobot Outpost Omega-One was suddenly very quiet.

Ratchet hadn't intended to pause his narrative right then and there, but recalling such an emotional time in his life…well, he was finding it difficult to keep his voice from glitching.

"Did Io…die?"

Ratchet lifted his head and fixed Miko with a stare. He wasn't angry—it was a fair question, given his sudden lapse into silence—but he found her forwardness a bit unsettling.

He always had.

The old medic sighed and his mantle-plates chittered softly, causing the young femme to clutch Bulkhead's index finger like it was the most important object in the world. Her gold eyes widened fearfully. "Please tell me that she…"

"It was…touch and go for a time," Ratchet conceded, finally. "But she did survive."

Instantly, Miko let out a trapped sigh, as did the other children.

Their Autobot guardians looked skeptical. Having lived a better part of their natural lives at war, they knew how to discern full truths from half-truths. Arcee, especially, looked troubled. "Did she suffer any ill effects from the injury?"

Ratchet's optics dimmed. "When Trocar made his entrance, I knew right away that Io would live…but I also knew that her survival would come at a terrible cost."

Given the renewed despair on Miko's face—and the growing concern emoted by Jack and Rafael—Ratchet quickly explained himself. "By 'terrible cost' I'm referring to her physical capabilities, only. Io's dorsal trunk line was heavily damaged by the missile. And while many of our systems are subtant, meaning that they can be replaced or repaired with relative ease, the dorsal trunk line is a biomechanism, much like our voice-box," He gestured at Bumblebee who pointed at his throat and chirped sadly. "It's a complex part of our protoform—the irreducible frame that emerges from the Well of Allsparks. Even Triage, with all of his knowhow, could never have hoped to build a spark-chamber from scratch. The most he might be able to do would be to manipulate existing protomatter, coaxing it into new functionality with fantastical techniques that have been passed down through the ages…"

The children exchanged glances; their looks said this was a lot of information for them to absorb, being truly an alien concept, and even though they had spent a lot of time around their Cybertronian comrades, Ratchet had to believe they didn't discuss much physiology. He also realized that he had gotten away from the narrative. True, Rafael seemed fascinated by Cybertronian history and biology, but it was evident that Miko was interested more in how this pertained to Io's well-being rather than enjoying hearing him wax philosophical. It was the cast to her eyes that said "Get back to the 'good stuff.'" Jack just continued looking serious as if considering all of Ratchet's words with equal weight.

He sighed, and then composed himself. He would explain the details to Rafael later.

"She survived…but it took almost six years of physical therapy and Primus knows how many operations before she could walk on her own. And even after all of that she was still deemed 'unfit' by the clinic's new HMO to participate in field missions." A fresh stab of pain lanced Ratchet's spark and he shook his head to hide his discomfort. "It's one thing to feel worthless after a lifetime of doing the same, boring, menial tasks…it's another thing, entirely, to get shot down in the prime of your life. Now, that's not to say that she couldn't contribute. Her energon research definitely benefited from the abundance of lab time, but it was a…difficult transition, to say the least."

Out of the corner of his optic he noticed Rafael draw back, hand pressed against his chest and eyes wide. "She could still fly, right?"

"No, she couldn't." Ratchet sighed as the pain in his spark mutated into a dull, throbbing ache. "Even with the repairs, her neural conduit had a bad habit of glitching during her transformations. They weren't bad glitches, but when you're a mile above the ground, flying at mach-two, the last thing you want is one of your engines turning back into an arm."

"But they…" Arcee began, but paused and seemed to reconsider her words. "A lot of 'Bots were disabled during the war." She said finally, and in a tone that suggested barely restrained anger. Her optics narrowed. "Do you mean to tell me that she wasn't repurposed? That they just let her…"

"She was…eventually," Ratchet raised his hands defensively. "But you have to understand…the Orsis Incident didn't end with Crossarm's imprisonment. The clinic struggled for years afterwards…" At this, Ratchet's voice took on an almost pained tone, something that didn't go unnoticed by the others.

"Aw, c'mon…you're not that bad a leader," Bulkhead sniggered. "Optimus leaves you in charge all the time."

"By necessity, it would seem," Ratchet cocked a playful brow-ridge—thankful at what he knew was an attempt at mitigating the pain associated with his memories—coaxing a smile out of the former Wrecker. "And watching over the six of you is a walk down the parkway compared to running an entire clinic, especially one still reeling from the aftermath of that failed mission." He shook his head. "For all his faults, Crossarm kept things running smoothly."

"Really? Praise? It sounds almost like you feel sorry for him," Miko huffed. "The jerk got what he deserved."

Ratchet lowered his head. "Sometimes I wonder…?"

"Dude, he's the reason why Io got hurt."

"I realize that," he admitted wearily. "But he also saved her life twice: once when she was buried in the rubble by the breach, and again when she was struck by the missile." Ratchet's optics flared briefly. "In both cases, he could have walked away and left Io to her fate…but he didn't. He also took responsibility for the entire mission, sparing Io from any prison time." A weak smile turned his lips. "Say what you want about him, but I'm grateful for his change of spark."

Miko looked thoughtful. "Oh…I never thought of it like that."

"Not many have…" The medic replied.

For a time, the silo and its inhabitants lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

"This might be a bit off-topic…" Jack said after clearing is throat. "But did Crossarm really sit in prison for seventeen thousand… years?" While it was true that humans had difficulty in accepting the long lives of their Cybertronian allies, the tone in Jack's voice thought that even this seemed excessive.

"No. The seventeen thousand year sentence that Optimus mentioned was the textbook penalty for seventeen counts of felony murder. Because of my testimony and the fact that he freely admitted his guilt, they dropped his sentence down to five thousand years."

"Oh, only five thousand years…" Miko muttered sarcastically.

"But that would have outlasted the war and our exile." Bulkhead interjected. "And he wasn't on the Ark's manifest when we left Cybertron."

Ratchet nodded. "They put his sentence on hold after Tyger Pax."

All of the Autobots stiffened, and Bumblebee went so far as to curse the name of the battle in a series of bitter chirps and whines.

Rafael placed a comforting hand on the scout's trod. "That bad, huh?" He said in a low voice, intended only for his guardian, who chirped sadly in reply.

Ratchet nodded, having overheard. "The battle of Tyger Pax marked a major turning point in the war for Cybertron, as it was there that Autobot forces launched the AllSpark into space."

Miko cocked her head. "AllSpark? Is that a weapon? A ship?"

"The AllSpark is their source of life on Cybertron," Rafael explained before Ratchet even had a chance to reply. "Take that away and you take away their ability to reproduce."

Miko's eyes widened. "So, there can never be more of you?"

Ratchet shook his head sadly. "No. Not without the AllSpark."

"So then why…?"

"Without the AllSpark, there would be no new Autobots…but also no new Decepticons. Up until that point in the war, Megatron had relied on numbers and air superiority to win his battles. All the drones you've encountered are a testament to his vision. It didn't matter if his forces had the ability to think on their own—in fact I would bet he preferred it that way—as long as he had numbers. If he could produce soldiers faster than us, he could grind us into oblivion by default."

"But did he own the AllSpark? Couldn't you have done the same thing?" Miko asked. "You know, make your own army of soldiers?"

"That's what set us apart from the Decepticons." Arcee countered. "That's what we tried so hard to stop. A drone has little free will because of how they've been brain-washed."

"Yeah," Bulkhead added. "Once the shell program imprints, they blindly follow Megatron's orders until they go offline." He shook his head. "Even if it won us the war, doing things Megatron's way would have destroyed us as Autobots."

This seemed to satisfy Miko, but her eyes said she didn't like it, that something was missing.

Ratchet added. "The only way to stop Megatron, with the limited numbers we were left with, meant setting the AllSpark adrift."

Miko chewed this around for a moment, then her eyes lit up with a sudden thought.

"So, with no AllSpark you and Io never had any kids?"

Ratchet stared at Miko for a full thirty seconds before sputtering. "W-what?!"

Bulkhead sniggered loudly, though the others could only stare at her with open-mouthed amazement.

"AllSpark or no, we can't 'have' kids the same way that humans do." the ex-Wrecker managed after he had composed himself. "Technically, we don't even have genders."

"Wait, what?!" Miko squeaked. "But I refer to you as 'he' all the time and you don't seem to mind. And what about her?" She gestured at Arcee. "You use the word 'she' when talking about her, and even I just used the word 'her.' She even looks like a 'her!' Do you mean to tell me that 'she's' not really a 'she' or that you're not really a 'he'?"

"Woah, Miko…I think this is a discussion best left for another day," Jack said, holding up his hands.

"Oooh, no, no, no. We're settling this now. I mean, this is HUGE. My big, bro' battle bot may not even be a bro?" She huffed.

"Does it matter?" Bulkhead asked, even though it was evident from Miko's face it was more the principle of the thing.

"You do realize that it's almost midnight?" Jack held up his cell-phone and pointed at the illuminated display. Ratchet realized with a start that had been talking for well over five hours. "We can discuss Cybertronian gender identity another night."

"Hmph, fine!" She conceded, scrunching her nose. "But don't think you're getting out of this. Or you!" She added, pointing at Ratchet with one of her tiny fingers. "If you had robot babies, or if you're actually a 'she,' I will find out. I may even have to buy you a skirt to make myself clear!"

"Wrrririiiisss-iiiit veeeee! Chiiirrrrruuup, vit-viiiieeewwww?"

"Yes, 'Bee; I too want to know what happened to Crossarm and Io." Rafael translated with much more volume than was necessary given their close quarters. It was clear that he was trying to set the story back on course, and the old medic couldn't help but suppress a smile, silently grateful.

Glancing at Miko as if requesting her permission to continue, he paused, and made sure everyone had refocused. The young girl lapsed into a sullen silence, arms crossed at her chest, but it was evident that she was listening.

"After Tyger Pax, everything changed. At the time, launching the AllSpark into space seemed the best course of action—or the most 'logical,' as Prowl might say. But in forcing Megatron's hand, we unintentionally encouraged him to pursue ever more creative means of destruction. Rather than pilfer the Well for new sparks, Megatron's forces began stealing the sparks from living captives. And when that didn't prove as lucrative as he'd envisioned, then came the plagues, bio-engineered weapons of mass destruction that killed millions." Ratchet's expression darkened. "Then, at the very end, he tried to destroy Primus, himself."

Miko's arms tightened around Bulkhead's index finger.

Very gently, the ex-Wrecker rubbed her back with the tip of his thumb, a gesture which seemed to calm the young human.

Ratchet noted this with interest. His understanding of human physiology was infantile at best, and his processor was keen to absorb anything that could potentially enlarge that dataset.

Rafael and Jack, likewise, huddled closer to their guardians. Both of them seemed shocked that he would be so forthcoming with gruesome details…especially when it was clear that he had censored certain parts of his narrative up to this point to make it easier for them to digest.

And given how Miko reacted to their revealed androgyny, it was probably a wise decision.

"It soon became clear that Megatron was going to force victory no matter the cost. So, with very little hope, and the bulk of Megatron's forces closing in on Iacon, Optimus began to secretly gather the best energon researchers on Cybertron in preparation for something called Operation Xenocryst ."

All Autobots in the room other than Ratchet poked their heads closer, intrigued. The children looked equally interested, but only because this information was completely new to them.

"That's when we began storing energon on other worlds, right?" Bulkhead asked.

Ratchet nodded. "That's what we openly promoted. But for those in the know, there was a more significant goal in mind: namely the creation of completely novel, off-world deposits."

"But…Isn't that what you're doing now? You know, with all of the junk that Bulkhead downloaded from the thingamabob?" Miko asked with a dismissive hand gesture.

Couched in ignorance, the human's comment was as close to praise that he was ever likely to receive from her, and after a few startled blinks, he rubbed at the back of his neck and muttered. "Urm…well. Sort of. Whereas I'm trying to cultivate new, liquid energon to be used in the present, the project sought to encourage certain celestial bodies to create their own, solid energon deposits over longer time periods."

"That seems…difficult." Jack commented. "It'd be like us trying to get the moon to grow its own coal or something."

"Difficult, indeed, though not impossible." the old medic agreed, lifting his head; his optics became distant. "Soon after Tyger Pax, Io received a sample of bedrock from Optimus' lead geologist, Lander. The sample had been returned by one of our deep-space probes, and Lander was looking for confirmation of an experiment that he had conducted in his own lab. Supposedly, he introduced a small sliver of solid energon into a hole that he had drilled into the sample. After four months, he noticed that the energon shard had doubled in size, growing at the expense of the confining rock. It was the first time that this behavior had been observed outside of native, Cybertrionian metals. I mean, even our colony worlds couldn't create new stores of the substance, instead relying on imports and or alternative energy sources to sustain their populations." Ratchet suddenly smiled, as if at a happy memory. "Io was ecstatic when she was able to replicate the results, as it was a huge leap forward in her discipline, and it actually verified some of her own hypotheses."

"So, is that what you meant when you said Io was 'eventually repurposed?'" Arcee's optics narrowed as she focused on Ratchet's face-plate.

The old medic nodded. "I'm sure Optimus delayed the order as long as he possibly could, but in the end, Io's formulas, and overall knowledge of energon, made her essential to the war effort, and she was transferred to one of several, hidden, laboratories scattered across the globe." His optics darkened, briefly. "I…was never told which one."

"You…You had to know that was going to happen at some point." Bulkhead said after a time, his tone low and gentle.

"I knew from the very beginning that Io wouldn't be around forever; I wasn't that deluded. I just didn't expect it to end so…suddenly." A sigh flitted across Ratchet's lips. Should I tell them the truth? He wondered briefly before banishing the thought from his processor. The Orsis Incident was depressing enough a story on its own, and it probably wouldn't do well to mention Io's final fate. "I… never saw her again."

"Wait. Wait. Wait." Miko interjected suddenly and with a full complement of exaggerated arm gestures. "What do you mean you 'never saw her again?' After everything that you went through together, one call from Optimus and that was it?! Boom! Gone?! She was your girl! How could you do that to her?"

Despite the twisting in his spark, a note of irritation edged into Ratchet's voice "Her being called away was a direct order from Optimus. She had no choice; I had no choice."

Miko scrunched her nose and waved her hand, dismissively, as if trying to shoo his explanation away. "Fine, well, couldn't you at least call and keep in touch? I mean, you're always on about how advanced and amazing Cybertronian tech is compared to what you've got here."

Ratchet pursed his lips, his earlier irritation giving way to anger.

"Miko, you have to understand. During the war, it was difficult for soldiers stationed across the world to keep in constant contact with each other." Arcee offered, flashing Ratchet with an understanding smile. If anyone would know about the difficulties faced by wartime couples, Arcee would. "With such a secretive mission, I imagine everyone and anything involved was under complete lockdown. Nothing in; nothing out…especially communications, right?"

The old medic nodded. "Exactly…"

Miko snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. "I still can't believe you just let her go…"

Another blinding wave of pain lanced Ratchet's spark, most of it due to his yet unrevealed handicap and the rest caused by guilt at misleading them. Slowly, not wanting to draw any attention to himself, he allowed his fingers to alight on the dorsal surface of his medial-plate. The subtle pressure was enough to alleviate the pain coursing through his spark-casing.

"So, did Crossarm take part in this mission, too?" Rafael asked, almost as if he could sense this.

"Yes and no," The medic answered quickly, hoping to dissuade Miko from any further comments. "Crossarm was sent off-world several decades after the project began, presumably to assist with one of the seeding missions. However, no one is really certain." Ratchet's gaze grew distant. "One thing I do know is that his sentence was commuted a few years before Iacon came under attack. Whatever he did…apparently it was significant enough to sway Prowl and the others into striking seventeen counts of murder from his record. But, other than that, I don't know where he ended up…or if he even returned to Cybertron."

For a time after, the silo was quiet. It was one of those quiets that suggested finality, as if they had reached the proverbial stopping point for the evening.

Or so Ratchet thought, until Miko said. "So…the whole story…everything just ends with 'I don't know' and 'we haven't talked in ages?' That is so…anticlimactic." She grumbled, dramatically plopping her arms into her lap.

"Wow. You're pulling out all the stops today," Jack smirked, leaning back against Arcee's trod. "That was five, full, syllables."

"Hey, just because I didn't get an A in English doesn't mean I'm a dunce."

"And…what did you earn, exactly?"

Miko opened her mouth to reply, but Arcee stopped the impending argument by clapping her hands, loudly. "Alright, children; it seems that the story is at an end and we've now devolved into adolescent bickering." She climbed to her trods and flared her plating in a light stretch. "C'mon. Somehow, I don't think June had midnight in mind when we said we'd be back 'late.' Also…Ratchet's probably had enough of us for a while." She ushered Jack toward the main entrance, and with a groan of disapproval, Miko jumped lightly from Bulkhead's hand to the floor, arms crossed over her chest.

"I still can't believe you just let her go…" she muttered under her breath as Bulkhead transformed behind her. Once the ex-Wrecker had assumed his alt-mode, Miko opened his passenger door and claimed his interior with a loud, dramatic huff.

"See you guys at Jack's place. Although, after that story, I don't think Miko will get much sleep on this 'sleep over.'" He called out before disappearing down the long entrance hall with a squeal of burning rubber.

For a time after, Jack and Rafael just stared quietly at the spot once occupied by the large mech and his human charge. Then, with a heavy sigh, Jack looked at Rafael and nodded. "I know Miko will never admit this, but…" The dark-haired human met Ratchet's gaze and his expression slowly transitioned into a smile that was equal parts serious and compassionate. "She's grateful for the story…we all are."

Beside him, Arcee nodded silently before fixing the old medic with a knowing smirk, almost as if she was aware of his deception. But, rather than call him on it, she transformed fluidly into her Earth-based alt-mode and sounded her horn to get Jack's attention.

The lanky human nodded and waved at Ratchet as he climbed into Arcee's "back." Once certain that her partner was settled and wearing his helmet, the motorcycle started her engine and disappeared down the hall like a bullet.

Only Bumblebee and Rafael were left. Bumblebee had assumed his alt-mode and was waiting patiently for Rafael with his door ajar, but the young human didn't seem keen on leaving. He just stared up at Ratchet with an almost torn look on his face. Like he wanted to say something, but couldn't muster the courage to ask.

"Brrriii veeet?" Bumblebee prodded, gently.

"Would you mind?"

A series of subdued, yet respectful chirps erupted from the scout's dash, and he closed his passenger door and drove off down the hall without another vocalization. He didn't actually leave the base, as Ratchet could—at the limits of his hearing—make out an idling engine, but he was far enough away to be out of sound-shot.

Rafael moved closer to Ratchet and stood stiffly at his trods. "I…" He paused and lowered his head; his hand gestured, lamely, as he considered his next few words. "I wanted to ask you about something, but…" Again, he hesitated; something that might have been fear or trepidation flashed briefly across his eyes.

The old medic allowed a sad smile to play across his lips. "It's OK, Rafael." He said, reassuringly. Extending his arm, Ratchet rested his hand—palm-up—on the floor next to the human, low enough for him to climb up onto.

Rafael accepted the offer without hesitation, and Ratchet gently lifted the human to optic level. "What would you ask of me?"

The boy smiled, and adjusted his glasses, pushing them back up to the bridge of his nose with his index finger. "I don't know how to explain it, but at the very end there—and, earlier, when you were telling us about Cybertronian life-cycles..." His eyes shimmered again, this time with concern. "I felt pain…here." He pressed his tiny hand against his chest, directly over the location of his heart. "Why?"

Ratchet's optics widened, and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but stopped himself, and turned his head; optics distant and thoughtful.

He was hard-pressed to believe that Rafael could share his pain, him being a human without a spark, but at Rafael's claims—and the fact that Ratchet had seen the boy clutch his chest at exactly the same moments he had his own—he could think of no other medical reason.

But that brought up questions…a lot of them, many of which his processor was not ready to answer, nor capable.

After a few more seconds of consideration, the old medic eventually nodded, and fixed Rafael with a serious, aquamarine stare. "The pain that you felt…was my pain."

Rafael's eyes widened, and he stepped closer, hands raised in concern. "You're in pain?" He wondered.

Ratchet nodded. "Yes."

"This can't be from your injuries sustained during the Orsis Incident can it? I mean that was…" he faltered because Ratchet really hadn't given him a specific timetable of events, just a general, ordered chronology.

"A long time ago, yes." Ratchet finished the thought. "But no, my pain isn't from that. It came years later."

"And you can't fix it? I mean…you're a great medic."

Ratchet chuckled, modestly, at the boy's response. "If only I were that good," He shook his head, and averted his optics. "It's not something that I can repair, unfortunately…"

"But you look outwardly fine. It's something internal" He asked.

"Internal, yes. But nonetheless… uncomfortable."

A pained expression darkened Rafael's features, and he reached out with one, tiny, comforting hand, but Ratchet subconsciously recoiled. It wasn't that he didn't trust the young human; rather it was a primal reaction, stoked by their race's long-standing prejudice against organic life-forms. Within a moment, Ratchet realized what he had done and forced his Cybertronian pride to the back-burner. Smiling, apologetically, he tilted his head forward and allowed the human to touch the side of his helm.

Rafael's expression brightened, and after a few moments of silence, he asked in a low voice. "Is it because of Io?"

Ratchet closed his optics as yet another stab of pain lanced his spark. How astute the young boy was.

Almost as if the young human could sense his pain, Rafael brought his second hand into play, lightly caressing his mesh. Surprisingly, this seemed to do the trick, and the pain in his spark began to subside, enough so that he felt comfortable filling Rafael in on what he had left out, earlier.

"Io and I were….close. Much closer than I led you all to believe."

The old medic felt Rafael's hand close against his finish, but the boy remained silent.

"When she completely recovered, we became elin'istina'athe'i."

Rafael's eyes were wide as he considered the medic's statement. "Really?" He asked excitedly. "That's amazing!"

Ratchet's mantle plating puffed out a bit, pridefully, and he smiled.

"You know what, now that I think about it, I'm not surprised." The boy admitted after a time, but very suddenly, his expression darkened. "So…why would you hide it from us?"

Ratchet stifled a sigh and shifted on his trods. "Personal reasons, mostly. Spark-bonding is a bit of a…taboo subject, much like discussions on human reproduction. It's not something brought up in everyday conversation."

Rafael cocked a questioning eyebrow, and Ratchet couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"Today's a day for revelations, it would seem." He fixed the human with a warm smile. "You know, this is the first time I've talked about this with anyone other than Optimus."

"Really?" Rafael's face beamed with pride but also amazement. This was a huge honor and the look in his eye said he would do his best to treat their conversation with even greater respect.

"Yes, as I said, it is a personal matter. But after years on your planet, I can see the benefits of sharing."

"Because you've gotten to know us?"

"Well, that, and because I've spent time watching television."

Rafael was taken so aback at the comment, he had to grab Ratchet's index finger to regain his balance. He blinked rapidly behind his spectacles. "That's…wow… Why?"

"I've gotten so used to noise here at the base—mostly Miko's—that I've been finding it difficult to concentrate when no one's around. If I'm alone, I'll turn the TV on just to have something to listen to."

Rafael chuckled lightly. "What do you watch?"

"Soap operas, mostly. The acting is a bit overdone, but the relational drama is so very alien as to be fascinating. Dr. Phil is informative, as are many of the documentaries on the History Channel. I've also tried watching David Letterman, and other comedians, but I'm not well-versed enough in human culture to understand the punchlines of their jokes, and I usually end up switching to something else." Then, looking a bit embarrassed, the old medic rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "I…also had the misfortune of catching an episode of Jerry Springer. Not exactly the highlight of human culture and refinement…"

The young human absorbed the first two admissions with an understanding smile, but at the mention of Jerry Springer, he started laughing, seemingly unable to restrain himself.

"Please don't tell Miko," the old medic pleaded. "She'll never let me live it down."

The boy curbed his laughter after a time, and waved his hand. "I'm sorry for laughing, but you don't have to worry. I won't say anything." Then his expression turned serious. The light-hearted banter, while a welcome reprieve, had allowed them to deviate from matters of importance. Unconsciously adjusting his glasses, he cleared his throat and asked. "So…why are you in pain?"

Ratchet's optics seemed to dim as he considered his reply. "Spark bonds were intended to be permanent." The old mech paused and bit his lip, pain revisiting his spark. "We are a long-lived race…and it is believed that Primus gave us the ability to bond for companionship, so that we wouldn't have to live out the entirety of our lives—spans that could literally measure millions of years—alone." He paused, his expression darkened. "Do you remember the trauma Triage suffered from losing Interlink?"

Rafael nodded.

"Part of the reason for his survival was that he was young, and his spark was better able to deal with the shock of losing his partner." Ratchet's voice died out and he lowered his head, optics closed tightly as he attempted to quell the burning firestorm in his spark.

"Ratchet?" Rafael asked urgently, tugging lightly on Ratchet's helm in concern.

"The pain that you felt…" Ratchet began shakily. "It's physical pain from my own
spark."

The human's dark eyes flashed with concern and sympathy…and after a time, a morbid understanding. "So, all that stuff about Io not being able to transform and eventually being sent to work on Operation Xenocryst…you were lying?" The boy's voice cracked as he spoke.

It was a distressing sound.

"No, not about that," He admitted, smoothing his armor. "Everything up to her being sent away from the clinic was true, and so too was my 'I never saw her again' statement, afterwards." The medic shook his head. "We neither saw nor spoke to each other after she was transferred, to keep the mission secret. However, even with all of the security measures put in place to keep Operation Xenocryst a secret, the 'Cons still managed to find out about it." Ratchet's optics shuttered before closing. "Io's lab was destroyed, and she…" A pause. "T-there were no survivors."

Rafael's hand moved to cover his mouth.

"I at least take solace in the fact that she didn't suffer…" He shook his head and pressed his free hand to his medial plate. "I would have known if she had."

The gentle caressing resumed, and Ratchet pressed on, encouraged. "When she died…I…" He paused, partly due to the pain of having to recollect Io's death, but also because he wasn't sure exactly how to explain himself to the human.

After a time, the old medic decided that a visual demonstration would likely be more understandable than a bunch of scientific jargon, and so he straightened his posture and lowered his hand so that Rafael was about level with the center of his medial plate.

Concentrating slightly, Ratchet adjusted the panels comprising the bulk of his chassis, first his laterals-which, should he transform completely, would become the doors of his altmode. These slid silently and quickly left and right before tucking themselves beneath his sidereal-plates. His medial plate was the last to transform, separating down the middle along an almost impossible to discern seam, and rotating forty-five degrees before coming to rest against his mantle, directly over top of his headlights.

Rafael watched the transformation with a look of fascination and awe—as far as Ratchet was aware, this was the first time that any of the humans had been made privy to their inner workings. And despite a sudden feeling of, should he dare say, nakedness, he allowed the human to study the inside of his chest.

"Is that…?" Rafael wondered pointing toward the large, circular, glowing object that dominated Ratchet's chassis.

"My spark chamber, yes." The medic replied.

"So, that's…" The child's smile faltered as he finally noticed what it was that Ratchet had wanted him to notice: A large welding scar that cut diagonally across the organ's outer casing as well as the central window.

Rafael met Ratchet's gaze, his eyes thoughtful though questioning.

The old medic frowned and traced the scar with his free index finger. "I wasn't a young 'Bot when Io and I bonded, and we both understood that there were terrible risks involved…but we became elin'istina'athe'i any way." Another pause; he couldn't help it. "This scar is a physical side-effect of the breaking trauma that I endured as a result of her loss. My spark-casing wasn't strong enough to contain my spark when it regressed back into its original waveform."

Rafael looked confused. "I've heard you use that word before, 'waveform.' What does it mean?"

"Oh!" Ratchet exclaimed, surprised. He would have figured Bumblebee…or Bulkhead—given his lack of tact—would have filled him in on what they knew of Cybertronian physiology. "Our waveform is the unique, mathematical signature of our spark energy, analogous to a human fingerprint."

"But…why would that hurt you?"

Ratchet rubbed at the back of his neck, his processor subconsciously recalling a Dr. Phil episode that centered around a discussion that most human parents have with their offspring called the "birds and the bees." Deciding that simplicity and abstraction would world best for now, he replied. "When Io and I bonded, our sparks merged, forming a single, unique spark that was a perfect amalgamation of my original waveform and hers. Upon separating, the spark split recreating us as new entities with waveforms that were equal parts one and the other." He paused and his hand dropped heavily to his side. "When Io rejoined the AllSpark, her portion of my spark dissociated, forcing my original waveform to try to reestablish itself. The stress of that change was too much for my spark-chamber to bear…and it ruptured."

Rafael looked horrified. "Isn't that lethal?"

Ratchet nodded. "Normally, yes." He averted his gaze as a series of painful memories of that date floated to the front of his processor. One minute he was working in his lab, Io's presence a blissful constant in his spark that made him grateful to be alive, and the next he was on his knee-pikes screaming from pain so agonizing that he thought his body was being torn in half. "I only survived because Triage happened to be passing by my lab when it happened..." The medic's optics dimmed.

He had grown so accustomed to the private connection that existed between their sparks…to wake up six months later to find her presence replaced by a terrible, never-ending, ache was enough to send the old medic into a downward spiral that might have ended in suicide had Optimus not stepped in and recruited him as the CMO for his leadership team.

"So although you didn't have direct communication with Io, as you said before, the bond allowed you to know her whereabouts?" Rafael wondered.

"In a general sense, yes. But more importantly-"

"If she was alive and healthy." The human finished.

The old medic nodded. "We didn't need communication to know we cared for each other and that we were both alive. It was enough for us, given the circumstances."

"So that's…" Rafael paused. "That's how you knew the base had been destroyed."

"Yes, and later, when it no longer mattered, Optimus confirmed it."

The human absorbed all of this, grimly. "So there's…no way that anyone can fix you?"

Ratchet shook his head. "Triage did his best, but as good as he was...even he had limits." He met Rafael's wide, brown stare. He attempted a reassuring smile, but only half of his mouth lifted. "I'm lucky to be alive as is."

Rafael recalled his hand and looked away, eyes shimmering with an emotion that Ratchet couldn't quite place.

Fearing that he had perhaps revealed too much to the young human, Ratchet frowned and closed his chest. "You should…probably get back to Bumblebee," He said after a time, fighting back a sudden wave of insecurity. His normally gruff demeanor was a good coping mechanism, and had served him well over the years. As the words left his voice-box, however, they felt wrong.

But what could he really do about it?

Amazingly, Rafael seemed to fill in the silence. "Someday…I'm sure we'll be able to fix it." He said it with such conviction, and knowing his growing aptitude for Cybertrionian technology, for a moment, Ratchet could actually believe him, and he smiled in spite of himself.

"While that may be true, having friends certainly helps in the meantime."

Rafael's expression brightened. It was the first time that he had ever been acknowledged as anything other than a "nuisance" or "liability" by the old medic, and he had learned enough about Cybertronian facial expressions to know that Ratchet meant every word.

A smile slowly crept across his features and for a brief moment their gazes met.

Then, Rafael seemed to think about something. "So…why did I feel your pain in my heart?" He asked, placing his hand over his chest.

Ratchet's smile broadened. "That, Rafael, is the question of the millennium." He paused and cocked his head, a gesture that he picked up from Io that had become as much a part of his mannerisms as had cursing and grumping at his colleagues. "There's no doubt in my mind that we'll discover why…together."

Rafael's mouth parted in what could only be an expression of amazement. Then, without warning, the human leaned forward and hugged Ratchet's thumb as tightly as he could manage.

The old medic's features melted into a proud smile, but the expression was short-lived as he noticed a clear liquid forming at the corners of Rafael's eyes. It was something he'd seen once or twice among the humans, usually from Miko whenever she tried to get Bulkhead to do something that they both knew to be dangerous.

"You're leaking…" He said bringing the human up to optic level and giving him a scrutinizing once-over.

To the medic's surprise, Rafael just laughed. "I'm fine," he said after a time. "It's called crying. Humans do it, sometimes, when we need to express certain, strong emotions."

"Fascinating." Ratchet mused. "We do something like that too, though not as frequently. We call it ral'va'astianon or 'bearing of the soul through the window.'"

"That's…kinda poetic."

Ratchet fluffed his armor, proudly. "Much of our language is like that."

"So, how would you say 'thank you?' as in 'Thank you for sharing?'"

Ratchet smiled. "It would depend on the context. For this," He indicated the two of them with a gesture. "You would say 'tfvrestraei'i, xnlostvtriava xen jilos.'"

Rafael blinked rapidly. "You said that so fast…it almost sounds like static," He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Complicated words for meaningful conversation," Ratchet replied with an air of pride that he couldn't quite keep from his voice. "I'll say it, again, more slowly. 'Tfvrestraei'i, xnlostvtriava xen jilos.'

Rafael considered the statement for several long moments. "Tee vvvrest rai, zeenolost vtriavia xen geelos.'"

Despite an almost compulsive desire to want to correct the young boy, Ratchet smiled and said. "Not bad…for your first try." Coaxing his legs into action, the old medic crossed the insignia threshold of the base to the entry hall, and set Rafael down as gently as he could manage. "Now, go on." He insisted giving the human's back a gentle nudge. "I don't want the others to worry."

"Thank you, Ratchet." The tone of Rafael's voice conveyed the same depth as if he'd said it properly in Cybertronian. "Good night." With a wave and a smile over the shoulder, the human ran off down the hall at a light jog.

Ratchet smiled after him, but found that once the boy had disappeared around the corner, he just couldn't order his trods to move.

What a strange day.

He certainly hadn't expected a simple, human game to reveal so many stories that he'd kept bottled up for eons—and certainly not as a trade-off to keep the humans from bothering him—but, as his processor whirred with past memories and present conundrums, he found that he wouldn't take back a word of it for anything. In fact, he found himself oscillating between thoughts of Io and considerations of his newfound friendship—for that's what it was, he grudgingly had to admit—with a boy so young his entire existence was like a blip on a computer screen.

Yes, it had definitely been a strange day.

With a smile, Ratchet turned toward his computer. Maybe he would catch one of the late shows.

-Fin-

It is finished. Thank you, God! It's actually finished!

It's not that I didn't enjoy working on it, but man, having an idea in your head for three, solid, years and not being able to get it all down on "paper" right away. Well, it was difficult.

Ne-who, wow...

Believe it or not, this story started out as a short, ten page comic. Then, as I began to flesh it out, adding characters and their various personalities, it began to grow and almost took on a life of its own.

I was originally inspired by the sudden change in Ratchet's personality towards the end of season one. He goes from being rude and seemingly insensitive towards the children, to not being able to live without Rafael's influence by the time "One Shall Fall" rolls around. It's a huge change, and not very well addressed in the canon...thus War and Wings was born.

I'm also a sucker for romance, and I felt that our grumpy medic could do with a bit of luvin'. X3

As a framework for the flashback portion of the story detailing Ratchet and Io's relationship, I drew very heavily on my own relationship with my husband (icon:dernhelm1372), and how we got together in the first place. Like Ratchet, Brett was my mentor (in college, not in an operating room, unfortunately ). He's also a bit older and more mature than myself, and had a more traditional upbringing, complete with it's own baggage and insecurities. My upbringing was...a bit more dysfunctional, and by the time I had met him, I had already tried to kill myself twice. He was able to see through all the stupid crap that I did when I was younger, and was the first person outside of my immediate family to treat me as a human being. Led by God, he got me back on the straight and narrow, getting me involved with a church, youth group, and helping me to grow as a person, and as a member of the church body. I'm so very grateful for him, and I wrote this story as much for him as I did for the Transformers fandom.

He was also instrumental in helping me with the editing duties on this beast. For that, and for everything else, I'm very grateful.

Ne-who, what else can I say?

I've got some post WaW stuff planned. At least three small, fanfictions following Io and Ratchet during the years that they were together, some comics involving Ratchet and an older Rafael, and possibly a larger fanfic centering on Crossarm and what he did to exonerate himself.

I'm also working on a traditional group-shot of the main cast to commemorate the story, but it's going to take a while. Even over summer break, I've still got tons of work to do to prepare for the fall semester.

Ne-who, I'm'ma stop rambling. Enjoy and comment. I'm willing to answer deeper questions pertaining to the characters, since all has been revealed, so to speak. Please ask if you want to know more about someone or something.

Prax