Rian: Hey! How's everyone doing? I know everything is rather hectic lately, but that's what fanfiction is here for. So enjoy the new chapter, forget about the world for a bit, and relax.
Ratchet sighed as he placed his clean tools away. His old frame ached and messages flashing across his HUD, reminding him he required recharge. Performing back-to-back surgeries had taken its toll. Bumblebee's injuries were not that serious, merely a few dents—including one on his helm that had rendered him into forced stasis lock. He would have to be dismissed from patrol until he was fully recuperated, but the young scout was already up and about.
Raf, however...
There was not a single spot on his frame left untouched. Claw marks, shredded plating, dents, torn fuel-lines, burns, and energon covered the youngling helm to pes. At first glance, he looked like a mangled husk left behind on a battlefield. Ratchet had worked through the night cycle, mending every wound, every gash, every dent. He managed to treat most of the superficial damage, but he did not have the supplies to treat the broken protoform or struts underneath, nor rid the plating of the ugly welding scars that now littered Raf's body.
It filled Ratchet with pity. A Cybertronian sparkling was bad enough, but a human, with only a few years of life, experiencing such trauma? He didn't deserve such a thing, none of the children did.
Raf had put on a brave face, but Ratchet was old. He could see that mournful look in his optics. The war veteran wondered what he grieved the most—the loss of his home and his family? His humanity? Or his friends and being helpless to save them? The medic cursed the Decepticons during every waking moment, for damning the human children in such an awful way.
Suddenly Ratchet was torn from his thoughts from a sharp, pained gasp. There was the sound of scraping metal, and then tools clattering to the floor. The medic spun around at the commotion, only to see Raf, fully conscious, his wide-eyed optics full of terror and coolant. His unfocused optics looked around wildly as he violently thrashed in his makeshift berth, sending kicks and punches in all directions.
"S-stay back!" Raf shouted, swiping at empty air. Instinctively a servo transformed into his stinging blasters, quickly charging with energy as he took wild aim.
"Raf—"
The medic rushed towards the delusional youngling, but it was too late. A bolt of electricity cut through the air, striking an array of lights hanging from above. There was an audio-shattering pop as a shower of glass and sparks fell to the floor. Ratchet cringed, and sure enough, the horrible noise might as well have been an alarm.
There were startled shouts outside the medbay. There was the scuffling of pedes, alongside a flash of yellow.
"Ratchet, what's happening?" Bumblebee demanded.
He turned, optics widening as he witnessed a flailing Raf, the former human trying to tear free of the berth. Cables ripped out of his frame with a horrid noise, sending energon oozing out from reopened wounds.
"Bumblebee, quick, help me strap him down!" Ratchet ordered.
His voice was filled with a surgeon's authority, even when he loathed saying such words. Meanwhile, Raf was already taking aim again. This time at Ratchet. The war veteran had to sidestep with a speed that shouldn't be possible for one his age, yelping as another blast struck the wall. Leaving a large, black scorch mark.
Before Raf could work up another charge, Bumblebee snatched the mutant's wrists. It only made the little mech scream louder, his flails becoming more violent as the older 'Bot pinned his limbs to the berth.
"What's wrong with him?" Bumblebee cried, optics wide as his friend squirmed against him.
Ratchet had only seen such a reaction a few times before, when an Autobot completely forgot their current location and instead were locked in the past. Humans had their own name for the phenomenon. The last time the old medic had seen an attack this bad was when Autobot forces recovered a critically injured Bumblebee from the ruins of Tyger Pax.
"It's a memory purge," Ratchet informed. "His memory cells must be damaged. Hold him down so I can scan him."
"Hurry, Ratchet!" Bumblebee insisted.
Raf wasn't very strong, but in his desperation to break free, the scout was having difficulty holding him down. Thinking quickly, Ratchet reached over, typing in a sequence on a nearby monitor. Beams of energon wrapped around Raf's limbs, which made the youngling scream louder once he found himself trapped in place.
"Bumblebee! Bumblebee! Help me!" Raf wailed, his voice full of terror, even as his blank optics stared right at his guardian.
"I'm here, Raf, I'm here," Bumblebee buzzed, trying to be as soft as his prosthetic voice allowed. The former human seemed like he didn't hear the 'Bot, trying to twist out of the scout's grip like he was a predator. It made the guardian's spark twist at the absurd behavior. "Why doesn't he recognize me?"
Ratchet snatched one of his scanners, encasing the panicking youngling with a beam of light. When light vanished, and Ratchet cursed.
"Frag, it's his memory cells," he reported. "They are almost entirely fried."
Either from the heat of the Predacon's attacks, or the stress on the human-turned-Cybertronian's systems. Possibly both. Bumblebee's optics went even wider at the diagnosis. If it was his memory cells, and Raf could not even recognize his best friend...
"Y-you mean… he can't…?" Bumblebee stammered in shock, unable to finish the horrible sentence.
"I can still salvage it," Ratchet cut off, before adding in a mutter, "I think..."
He whirled around to snatch the tools he had just put away. Raf wailed again, increasing his struggles to escape. Bumblebee had to tighten his grip on the 'Bot even more, which only caused Raf to kick harder.
"JACK! MIKO! SOMEONE!" the poor thing screamed.
"Raf, please, wake up, I'm right here. You're safe," Bumblebee pleaded desperately.
Finally the commotion attracted the rest of the Autobots. Bumblebee heard the heavy pedes of Optimus Prime, followed by the light, scurrying steps of a frantic Arcee. He could already hear the stampede of the rest of the team trying to force their way into the medbay.
"What in the Pit is—" Bulkhead bellowed, only to freeze as he took in the scene.
"Stay back!" Bumblebee warned before any of them could come too close. A blaster managed to break free of the scout's hold, threatening to shoot.
The Autobots instinctively flinched away from the line of trajectory, but before Raf could fire again, Bumblebee seized hold of his wrist and forced it back down. Raf only whined. His flails were getting weaker, but his body was dangerously hot, cooling fans on full blast as they desperately attempted to expel heat.
"Ratchet!" Bumblebee cried.
"I'm here," the medic hummed, rushing to the frantic patient's side. "Hold him steady."
"I'm... I'm trying!"
Bumblebee put even more of his weight on Raf, praying he wouldn't accidently crush the little thing.
"Can't you just put him into stasis?" Arcee demanded.
"If I do, it could worsen his condition," Ratchet explained. "His systems would shut down and they could either reboot nothing or end up frying his cells even more."
Arcee's optics widened at that and Ultra Magnus stepped forward, volunteering, "Shall I assist?"
Being as almost as burly as Optimus Prime, the large mech could easily immobilize Raf. However, Ratchet did not know how the youngling would react. Rewiring memory cells were as risky as rewiring one's spark chamber—a single mistake, and the patient could be terminated. He needed Raf still and calm—and preferably conscious. The surgery was difficult enough, when Ratchet had a laboratory full of proper equipment and aides—but in an unsanitary hanger with tools made from salvage?
It would take longer than usual, if it was even successful. Ratchet doubted a hyperventilating Raf would last that long. The medic thought, trying to find a solution, when the former human began mumbling. It was rapid and slurred, sounding nearly gibberish to the Cybertronian.
"What is that?" Smokescreen asked, leaning forwards in concern.
"Scrap, the damage is worse than I thought," Ratchet gasped in horror. If he was speaking nonsense, it was not only damage to his cells, but his processor. "It's—"
"It's Spanish."
The group looked down, spotting one lone June Darby in the midst of the chaos. Ratchet hadn't even noticed her arrival. He couldn't even recollect the last time she had been in the Autobots' hanger at all. Agent Fowler had her relocated to the base's hospital, mainly to keep her close to the Autobot's protection, yet the woman rarely visited.
As far as Ratchet understood, the mother was still grieving for the loss of her son. He wouldn't be surprised if she held the Autobots accountable for Jack's kidnapping, especially considering the last failed attempt to rescue him. Fowler tried to keep her busy by ensuring she was on a full-time schedule, but it seemed to do little.
June's dull hair was pulled back in a disheveled ponytail and there were dark bags under her eyes, stormy-blue and haunted with misery, but rather than focused on the past, she looked at a hysterical Rafael with growing concern.
"What's Spanish?" Smokescreen asked, sounding quite confused.
"Another language here on Earth," June explained, as if it should be obvious. "Do you really only know English?"
Ratchet frowned. English was the only human language that he bothered to download—the only one he needed to download. He was aware Miko and Raf's spoke another tongue—Bulkhead and Bumblebee had even acquired them to speak with their charges. But with his ruined voice, Bumblebee could not replicate the language, and Ratchet doubted a pre recording from the humans "radio" would be authentic enough. He turned to June.
"Can you speak it?" he asked.
"I can hold a conversation—it helps to know a second language in the medical field," June answered.
"Good. Then converse with Raf."
June blinked in surprise, as if she wasn't expecting the order. However, thankfully the nurse didn't question him. She glanced at Raf, her features stern, before she met Ratchet's optics. She nodded stiffly.
Ratchet crossed the distance and offered a servo. The old Autobot painfully became aware the only human he had ever allowed to touch his plating was Raf. He pushed the memory aside as the woman hesitantly stepped onto the metal platform, wobbling a bit to gain her balance. He quickly deposited the human on the berth, though a safe distance from getting hit.
Raf's fit had weakened, no longer fighting with the same ferocity he initially woke up with. He continued to whimper, letting out strings of Spanish that Ratchet could never understand. June seemed to, though, her blue eyes becoming shiny with emotion. However, after a long moment, she swallowed and that professional mask fell over her face.
Disregarding the risks, she moved towards the pinned mech, settling by his audio. Slowly, hesitantly, she placed her palm on the warm metal of his helm, stroking gently. Her voice softened to a mother's murmur.
"Esta bien, mi querido. Estas a salvo ahora."
His optics dragged over to her, appearing startled. By her appearance, or her words, or both, she didn't know.
"Mama?"
June swallowed, but continued her soothing tone. "Si, estoy aqui, my carino."
Raf seemed to calm at that, vents finally releasing hot air and his plating relaxed. His optics dimmed as he gave a lopsided smile. Bumblebee let out a vent of relief as his struggles lessened. Guilt flickered in June's eyes, knowing she was not who Raf truly wanted, but she continued to coo assurances into his audio, keeping his attention. Ratchet took his chance, stepping behind the youngling. With precision and care that took eons to acquire, he took a scalpel and dragged it along a seam in the back of Raf's helm.
"What are you doing?" Wheeljack hissed.
"What do you think? The memory cells are stored in the helm," Ratchet retorted.
"You're going to cut him open while he's conscious?"
"I turned off his pain receptors—he doesn't feel a thing. Now be quiet so I can concentrate."
"Te he echado de menos, Mama," Raf whispered softly, reaching out to touch June. She stretched out her hand, touching the smooth plating of his extended digit.
The youngling was oblivious as Ratchet tenderly peeled back a layer of plating, only to curse. No wonder the youngling was so delusional—the protective shell around the processor was crushed, with wires shredded and some even missing. The strip of metal that made up the memory cells themselves looked like they had been tossed into a fire, blackened and melted. Ratchet recalled the extent of his injuries, and wondered how much trauma he must have experienced for his processor to be this damaged.
Steeling his nerves, the medic began to work. His hypothesis was correct—the wound looked worse than it was, and most of it was salvageable. He reconnected broken wires and melded ripped mesh. A handful of wires could not be saved, which Ratchet replaced with wires he collected from human machines. Earth metals weren't as conductive as Cybernite, so he used them sparingly. He would not forgive himself if Raf not only lost his memory, but his genius as well.
Some of the cells had to be removed, but Ratchet reconfigured wires to establish new connections. Raf would likely have gaps in memory. That was if he woke up from this. The medic slowly, methodically, giving each and every wire special attention and triple checking the connections. The procedure took joors.
The Autobots lingered in the medbay in silent vigil, and Ratchet was too focused to shoo them out. He didn't have to, as eventually they dwindled away one-by-one, either to return to their duties or unable to take the stiff silence anymore.
June spoke with Raf softly throughout the ordeal, while Bumblebee remained as an ever present guardian, watching his charge with tormented optics. The mechling kept conversation with June, replying only in Spanish while June did her best to reply.
Then finally, Ratchet let out a heavy sigh as he reattached the last wire. Without warning, Raf seized.
His optics went impossibly bright as his plating locked in place. He let out a scream of static, back arching off the berth. June let out a startled cry, recoiling from his frame and Bumblebee whined. Ratchet watched with horror.
Did he do something wrong? The former scientist rapidly tried to review everything he had done, all the flaws he could have done. Scrap, scrap, scrap—
As quick as the fit started, Raf felt back to the berth, limp.
Sparks stilled at the sight of the now unmoving mechling, June clutched at her own chest in terror.
"R-Raf?" she whispered, hoping to get a response. There was none.
"Ratchet, what happened?" Bumblebee demanded.
"Something must have gone wrong," Ratchet gasped, already frantically typing away at his monitor. His response seemed only to make the scout more frantic.
"What do you mean? What? Will Raf be okay—"
Ratchet rounded on the young Autobot as he let out a furious bellow, "BE QUIET AND LET ME THINK!"
Only when he did, there was a pitiful whimper below him.
"Why are you guys being so loud?"
"Raf?!" Ratchet whipped around faster than a blink of an optic, hovering over the mechling with great concern.
The youngling moaned softly, his body twitching a little, and then Raf's optics flickered online. They were still pale, but the lenses had spiraled back into place, focused and lucid.
"Ratchet?" the mutant murmured, his voice laced with static.
"I'm here, Rafael," he uttered with an uncharacteristic softness, stepping closer to the former human. "How… how do you feel?"
The former human shifted, trying to sit up, only to flinch with a whimper. "Everything hurts..."
The medic frowned, but was not surprised. With such limited supplies, he could not treat the full extent of his patient's injuries. He was amazed Raf was even awake.
"Just rest for now," he cooed softly, stroking the youngling's helm. Bumblebee and June appeared as relieved as he, expressions softening.
"Wh-where's B-B-Bumblebee?" Raf squirmed, gaze flickering back and forth, trying to find his guardian. He let out a sob of relief as the yellow scout stepped into view. "Oh, thank goodness. I was so worried—"
It was then the youngling faltered, lips pulling into a frown. Lenses became unfocused again. "The Predacon… what happened to the Predacon?"
The Autobots exchanged uncertain glances, not knowing how to respond. It was Bumblebee that dared to speak first.
"Raf… what's the last thing you remember?"
Raf blinked, as if he was confused by the question. "I... I remember you were on the ground, hurt. I went after the Predacon, but I found Lennox, and—"
The human-turned-Cybertronian cut off again, this time his optics widening. A long, pitiful keen escaped his vocalizer.
"I...I don't know..."
Bumblebee moved forward, holding firmly to the small hand in his own. Raf's voice was a high-pitched whine, filled with static and confusion. "Wh-what happened? How did I get here?"
June let out a small gasp, looking up at the older mechs as they exchanged a long look.
Then Bumblebee said lowly, "The Predacon got away. You... fell into stasis lock. Lennox and the other soldiers brought you here."
The scout purposefully ignored Ratchet's glare boring into his plating.
"I...I did?" Raf whispered, blinking slowly as he scrutinized Bumblebee. "H-how…?"
"You got hit in the helm pretty hard. Ratchet was able to repair it, though. You're good as new now!"
The scout forced his whine to an excited whirr. Raf did not seem to share his sentiment, his dull optics falling downward.
"O-oh. I guess I was pretty useless, huh..."
The guardian frowned, blinking at the broken words. He quickly shook his head in denial, buzzing quickly, "No, you were very brave."
The little 'Bots head hung low, trails of coolant spilling from his optics. He used his free servo to wipe them away, unable to find the strength to say anything else. Bumblebee gently stroked his charge's helm in comfort. Raf instinctively leaned into the touch.
"You're home," June assured softly. "That's all that matters."
When Raf didn't reply, the woman politely stepped off of the berth onto the adjacent catwalk, giving the distraught youngling space. She had the same look of conflict that Ratchet owned.
The medic sent a hail to Bumblebee's comms. "What do you think you're doing?"
"He's traumatized enough as it is, Ratchet," the young mech retorted. "How do you think he'll react, when he learns dozens of soldiers were killed, that the Predacon almost killed him?"
"He deserves to know."
"And he will. But not right now."
Ratchet's frown deepened, clearly not in agreement with the scout. Yet he said nothing more. He turned his narrowed stare away from Bumblebee, shifting his attention back to Raf.
"Please, lay back, Rafael," he asked in a quiet voice, gently guiding the mechling back against the berth. The youngling didn't protest, falling limp against the metal slab and closing his optics in exhaustion.
"Will he… be alright?" Bumblebee asked cautiously. He took hold of his charge's servo in both of his, holding onto him like a lifeline.
"He's... stable. For now. Earth materials are temperamental, at best. I'll have to monitor his condition closely."
It was then the console on the other side of the room let out a shrill beep. Ratchet ignored it, too busy overlooking his scan, trying to find the tiniest of flaws.
He was only faintly aware as Bumblebee continued, "Can I stay with him?"
"As long as he gets his rest. Raf will need some time before he fully recuperates."
Bumblebee nodded and remained at his post beside the youngling. Ratchet placed his servo next to June, to let her down safely, but the woman shook her head.
"I'd like to stay with him, too," she said firmly. She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, a human posture Ratchet had become accustomed to.
He sighed wearily, knowing the nurse had made up her mind. "Very well."
Leaving his patient and his company some privacy, Ratchet moved back to his station, the screen flashing in greeting. The medic quirked an optic ridge. A message? That didn't make sense, everyone was currently stationed at the base.
"What in the name of the AllSpark..." Ratchet muttered, furrowing his optic ridges deeply as he opened the hail. Only when he did, his optics practically bulged at the glaring message that greeted him.
MIKO. SAFE FOR NOW. NOT MUCH TIME. DECEPTICON WEAPON ALMOST COMPLETE. PROVIDING COORDINATES. HURRY.
"What..." Ratchet backed away a step, reading and rereading the message again and again. "No, no, this isn't possible..."
He shook his head, wondering if he was the one suffering a memory purge now. Yet the communication did not vanish. The coordinates were still attached. The name still screamed at him.
The medic was tempted to respond, but stopped himself. If... it truly came from a Decepticon frequency, then responding could compromise the base.
He could hurt Miko.
The thought stirred the frozen Ratchet from his stupor. He sent a hail to every Autobot's commlink.
"Medbay. Now!"
"What is it, old—" Optimus tried to ask, but was cut off by a short, irate "NOW!" that blared in everyones receptors.
There was a stampede of pedes, much like before, but instead of fear of their hurt friend, it was fear of the medic's wrath.
"What's going on, doc?" Wheeljack demanded first.
"I have a communication from Miko," Ratchet answered curtly, whirling around to face his audience. He was greeted with gasps and wide optics.
"B-but how is that possible—" Arcee started, only to be interrupted by a hefty laugh from Bulkhead.
"Hah! That's my girl! I knew she still had some fight left in her!" he cheered, raising a triumphant fist in the air.
"But the children were captured months ago," Ultra Magnus stated flatly. "How are we just now getting a transmission from one of them?"
"I sent a distress signal when I broke into the 'Cons place at Darkmount," Smokescreen explained. "If I was able to do it, I'm sure they could have."
"Maybe it wasn't until now they discovered how to contact others," Ratchet countered, chin in hand. "Or... Miko has finally found the opportunity."
"Well, we can't just sit here and do nothing," Wheeljack said hotly, narrowed optics blazing.
"What does she mean by 'Decepticon weapon,' though?" Smokescreen asked. "We destroyed Darkmount."
"You don't think she means the Predacons?" Arcee asked, a trace of worry in her voice.
Optimus Prime frowned, processing the unexpected discovery and contemplating the choices. If it truly was Miko, this was the Autobots' greatest lead to their captured charges in the past year. And perhaps, their only chance to save the slaves. But, as the leader of the Autobots, he had to consider the risks.
Megatron had proven he would not let go of his hostages so easily. Time and time again, when the Autobots had seized hold of the human-turned-Cybertronians, the tyrant had dug his claws in and pulled them back. No doubt it would be a highly dangerous mission, endangering the lives of his team. With their numbers so few, was it a risk he could afford to take?
"W-we have to try..." a small, weak voice spoke up.
Optimus raised his helm and turned around to see Raf sitting up from the berth. Bumblebee was still holding him, either in comfort or trying to usher him back down, but the youngling's gaze was directed at the Prime.
"We c-can't just leave them. Not again."
Optimus frowned, recalling the last time he had spoken with Raf. He had chosen his team over his charges, and he had learned it was a grave mistake. The children were Autobots, and he would not forsake his people. He turned back to his subordinates.
"As long as Jack and Miko are in Megatron's possession, they remain in critical danger," he surmised. "We cannot afford not to investigate."
"I volunteer," Ultra Magnus announced, expression set and determined.
"Well, you're not leaving me behind," Wheeljack spoke up, stepping forward.
"Me, neither," added Bulkhead, scowling fiercely.
"Considering the nature of this mission, the Wreckers will be the best option," Optimus decided.
"Sounds like a plan to me." There was a high-pitched squeal of metal on metal sounded as Wheeljack unsheathed his blades, twirling them briefly in his hands. "Let's get this show on the road then."
