Part 2

-Note – this takes place just after 'Treasured'

First Aid was sprawled on one of the couches in the medic's lounge in Autobot City, the medic attempting to get in a few hours of recharge time after a long shift in the OR. It was on days –or nights- like this that he could understand his mentor's frustration with the war, a frustration that had manifested in his famed temper and foul language. Though he had a personal aversion to swearing, he could understand why Ratchet used it quite extensively.

The young medic was just about to doze off when he suddenly became very aware that he wasn't alone. First Aid lunged upright to see the silhouettes of two very familiar mechs standing over him, patiently waiting.

"Sideswipe? Sunstreaker? What are you doing here?" First Aid asked. "Are you hurt?"
"No." Sunstreaker answered, holding out a data pad. "We want a sister. And we need your help to build her."

First Aid stared at the detailed plans contained on the pad. "Where did you get these?" he asked finally.
"It doesn't matter." Sideswipe replied. "Can you build her?"
"I can, but it'll take time, and parts that we can't spare right now." The medic protested.
"Don't worry about the parts." Sunstreaker interrupted. "Just build her."

The young medic went over the plans again. "It'll take time." He warned. "And I'll have to tell Rodimus."
"So?" Sideswipe asked. "If there's a problem, we'll sort it out."

At the slight inflection Sideswipe put into his words, First Aid very quickly decided that he would make sure there would be no problems. He had known the twin hell-raisers long enough to realise that their idea of 'sorting out' usually involved at least one disconnected limb amongst the opposite party.

"I'll start work on the frame as soon as I have the supplies." The medic promised as he got up, feeling his joints creak slightly from sitting in the same position for too long.
"Good." Sunstreaker smiled. "We'll be in touch." Silently, the twins turned and vanished through the door, leaving First Aid alone.

Several years earlier…

Ratchet looked up as the door chime to his office trilled and Sideswipe poked his head in. "Hey Ratchet." He grinned. "Can we come in? We've got some hi-grade." Sideswipe stuck one arm through the door as proof, a canister of the said substance in hand.
The CMO narrowed his optics slightly. "Obviously you're not hurt, so who are you hiding from this time?" He queried.
"Nobody, honest!" The red twin replied in mock indignation. "Really Ratchet, your suspicion wounds me."
"Join the club." Ratchet snorted, but waved the two in anyway.

"So, what do you want?" Ratchet asked when the twins had seated themselves. The twins glanced at each other. "Well, we'd, um, we'd like your help with something." Sideswipe said finally. Ratchet's optics flared slightly in surprise. In all the time he'd known the twins he'd never seen them this uncomfortable before. "Ok then, spit it out." He said, pouring himself a glass of the hi-grade and sipping it slowly.

Sunstreaker pulled a sketchpad from subspace. "We'd, we'd like to have a sister, and we want you to design her." He said quickly, handing Ratchet the pad. The medic took it and leaned back in his chair slightly, hi-grade forgotten as he studied the sketch. "So," he said at length, "does this theoretical sister have a name?"
"Moonlight." Sideswipe answered promptly.
"Right. So, why do you want a sister? The two of you cause me and Prowl enough trouble as it is. Can you imagine his reaction if all of a sudden there were three Lamborghini terrors running around here?"
"She's a Ferrari." Sunstreaker corrected.

"You haven't answered my question yet." Ratchet pointed out. He set down the sketchpad and tented his fingers before his face, watching the twins closely. He had to know how serious they were about this. Ratchet had seen far too many young warriors slaughtered to risk help bring a new life into this war on a mere whim.

The twins exchanged their strange glance again; then Sideswipe twisted around to make sure the door was closed. Sunstreaker looked down at his lap, then back up at the medic. "It's always been me and Sides." He said quietly. "Nobody else. We've only had each other, now we want someone."
"Someone?" Ratchet repeated.
"Someone else to share with." Sunstreaker explained. "Nobody from the outside can come close. They have to be one of us."

Both twins were looking at Ratchet now, unspoken questions in their faces. In one of thoserare flashes of insight, Ratchet suddenly understood what they were trying to communicate to him. They wanted someone to love. He had heard that before the war, the twins were quite popular in the social circles. And naturally, with their good looks and roguish charm, were equally if not more popular with the femmes. But no matter how long the relationship lasted, there was no love. To everyone outside of their bond, there was always a barrier that only the other twin could penetrate. Now they wanted someone else who could.

Ratchet pulled a stylus and a design slate out of subspace. "Alright." He said. "You said her alt mode is a Ferrari, right?"