CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

XXX

Two visits to an ER in four months was not a habit Jack planned on forming.

Yet it was, admittedly, a necessity, cursed to wait for long, painful hours when the physician determined an MRI would be necessary to look at the soft tissues of his knee. There was concern for a tear, as to avoid one after a story such as his own were nigh impossible. One, the physician did not believe an alien who came from a race without ligaments would be able to properly reduce a joint, and two, reduction without sedation meant Jack was tense, Megatron having to work against the strength of his muscles in addition to whatever natural resistance was already present.

Therefore, more force was required to put it back into place, resulting in more potential damage. Unfortunately, human knees were fickle things, and it would take quite some time for it to heal - and Jack would have to expect to never gain full functionality of the joint again.

So, no sports. A pity, Jack was really looking forward to the 100-meter sprints which came with Miko running through the Groundbridge.

He cringed. If the Autobots let him anywhere near the base ever again.

Of all the things which could have happened tonight, he was immensely grateful Ratchet had not elected to tell the Autobots about his condition until the young man had been safely transported to the hospital. Though Arcee would eventually make her way here to breath down his neck and wring every last detail out of him, the inevitable was delayed for a blessed while longer.

Laying on the bed nestled under a warm blanket Jack drifted in and out of consciousness whilst they waited for the MRI machine to be in full service, IV giving him a small bag of fluids to go with the pain medication in his system. Blood tests had revealed shockingly normal levels despite his new diet, the energon appearing to do nothing more than act as a sufficient supplement for his needs. There was still skepticism about this apparent miracle liquid, though for now it showed promising results. Jack hardly cared - nothing compared to the taste of a rich cheeseburger, and even Fowler agreed it was borderline un-American to consider replacing their staple foods with even the healthiest of alternatives.

The Agent was slumped in a chair next to his bed, head tilted back as he snored so loud it rivaled Optimus' engine. He had been gracious enough to give Jack privacy whilst the doctor looked him over - fortunately just his legs, allowing him to hide the bite marks with his gown - and now remained with him to keep company while they waited. The young man suspected the Agent was also paranoid about visitors sneaking into Jack's hospital room; a questionable motivation given Megatron had released him back to Autobot custody, however he appreciated the concern.

The young man was just drifting back off to sleep when Fowler's phone buzzed, causing him to jerk. The jarring alarm rang a few times before he shut it off, snapping the device shut once he confirmed it was seven o'clock. June's shift was over.

Rubbing his eyes, dark irises glanced up at Jack, meeting his sleepy blues peeking out from under the blanket. Unsure if he was fully awake the Agent gave him a small nod, leaving the room quietly with his phone in hand. Jack shifted, closing his tired eyes as the distinct sound of a muffled phone ringing slipped through the door, Fowler's voice following shortly after. He was exhausted, though he suspected part of it was due to the steady stream of pain medication in his veins.

It could have been seconds, minutes, or hours, but he was yanked out of his reprieve by an aggressive turn of the door handle, quick footsteps carrying a voice to his bed.

"Jack?"

He opened his eyes just as a hand fell on his shoulder, sitting up in the same motion as his mother dragged him into a hug. Though it was only for a half-second he knew he could recognize his mother's face anywhere, raven hair wafting the familiar scent of her shampoo across his nose. Her grip was tight, which was unfortunate as she squeezed his sore skin, exacerbating sharp needles piercing where the precise cuts from Megatron's dentae were still healing. Still, he would not trade this hug for the world, feeling the tension in his muscles melt away as her fingers ran through his hair.

"Thank god," her voice caught in her throat, and then she was crying, sinking down to sit on the bed next to him, "thank . . . thank god . . ."

"I'm okay, mom," he promised her, now the one to hug her in turn, assuring her everything was alright. She looked up at him, tears running down her cheeks, fingers diving into her pocket to fish out a handkerchief to blow her nose.

"What were you thinking?" The question started out angry, however it quickly deflated until the last syllable was punctuated by a crack in her voice. June did not have the energy to be angry with him, too relieved beyond words. "After Vince . . . when he said . . ."

"I know," Jack readjusted his blanket, wanting to keep as much heat trapped underneath it as possible. "I didn't think . . . I wasn't planning on being injured."

Her hand lightly touched his knee. "Dislocated knee and ankle?"

"The doctor thinks the ankle was sprained, and that's what I thought too," he could not help his grimace, "the knee . . . definitely dislocated at one point. Megatron reduced it."

"He reduced the joint?" Her bewilderment was not misplaced, suddenly taking it in both hands to feel for herself. Had he not been on something, Jack would have surely leapt off the bed in pain. Instead he felt the barest of aches as she touched it, his only indication the medication was wearing off just a little bit.

"We're waiting to get an MRI," Jack continued explaining, "I guess you can tear something really easy when dislocating something?"

"It's almost guaranteed," his mother answered, "you have muscles, ligaments, tendons surrounding the joint capsule to keep it stable and in place - otherwise it would slip out all the time. You have to tear something in order for it to be loose enough to dislocate."

He felt the blood drain from his face, siphoning away more of what little focus he could keep. "Will it . . . need surgery?"

"Possibly," June's brow furrowed, pursing her lips.

"Erm, I couldn't have made it worse by walking on it, could I?"

"You were walking on it?"

Jack cringed. "A little bit. I did try to keep my weight off, but . . . if I wanted to get around anywhere, walking was the best way to do it."

Walking from the bed to the onsen. To his lap.

He was glad his face was busy being pale, otherwise the flush on his cheeks would have given something away.

"You would have been in immense pain," her lower lip quivered again, "Jack-"

"Um, actually . . ." he allowed his displeased expression to perpetuate across his face, making his thoughts on the matter very clear. "He had access to hydrocodone. I don't know how, I didn't even know what it was until after I had taken it, but he had it."

It was questionable as to whether June was wanting to slap him, or the Decepticon warlord.

"You accepted a drug which Megatron somehow had possession of, without question?"

"I was in a lot of pain," he replied defensively, "thinking clearly wasn't exactly on the agenda at the time. And it wasn't like he handed it to me. I woke up and it was just there."

In hindsight, yes, taking an unknown pill was extremely stupid. As a boy in a small town, Jack had the luxury of not necessarily thinking twice about such things; which now revealed itself to be a double-edged sword.

June's worried expression persisted as her hands gripped his shoulders next.

"Did he do anything to you?" She questioned, Jack wondering if such underhanded inquiries would ever stop. First Ratchet, then Fowler, the doctor, and now his mother. How many times would he have to repeat himself, to essentially defend Megatron's honor when, really, it should not have concerned him so.

"Outside of talk to me? No, mom. He didn't do anything to me."

Her eyes narrowed. "And what is it he could possibly be talking about to you?"

"Well, he didn't share his grandmaster evil plan with me," he bit back sarcastically, becoming irritated, "he wanted to convince me to stay. I said no. He asked for our current address, I said no."

June appeared unhappy. "Jack," her voice was hard as steel. "Are you lying to me?"

He looked at her, genuinely bewildered. "What?"

"Are you lying to me," she repeated, "about giving our location away?"

The young man opened his mouth, ready to protest with why would I lie? When he recalled that was what he had done before. Not necessarily outright lying, but most definitely omitting the truth. His mother was worried he would let Megatron sneak into their home again, a possibility which he would guilty admit crossed his mind. However, now more than ever he could not allow such a thing; June, and the rest of the Autobots, would be on extremely high alert.

"If I did, we would have to move again," he replied finally, forcing himself to stay calm despite the bubble of anger festering in his chest. "And I won't do that to you, mom. I won't make you keep doing this for me."

Her expression softened, eyes twitching in surprise. She appeared to be seeing him in a new light, Jack bitterly wondering if she truly saw him as being so selfish. True, he had allowed himself to indulge, but it was a private affair which affected no one but himself. If they were to do it again, it would most likely be somewhere outside his home - but even now he could give no guarantees.

"And despite what you think," he did jab, "he can take no for an answer."

Her expression darkened.

"That doesn't make him a good person," she replied lowly.

"Maybe not, but it's better than what you keep implying," Jack huffed back, ready to say more when a knock at the door startled all three of them.

A nurse popped into the room, smiling.

"Sorry to interrupt," she seemed completely unaware of the tension in the room, "we're ready to take you to MRI, if you're ready."

June lightly pulled away from Jack, and despite their argument he felt cold without her next to him. Immediately some guilt hurt his heart, however it was looking to be a conversation for another day.

"Yeah," he said, "I think I am."

With his confirmation the nurse carefully disconnected him from the monitors, putting up the rails on his bed before releasing the brakes and beginning to push him out of the room. He heard his mother sigh, hearing the shuffle of clothing and assuming Fowler was giving her a comforting hand on the shoulder.

Jack closed his eyes. This had to be the beginning of a very, very long conversation.

XXX

"Jack was here, and you didn't think to wake any of us up?!"

To his credit, Ratchet was extraordinarily good at keeping a neutral expression whilst confronted by his fellow Autobots. Arcee was intimidating despite her small size, but having been on the receiving end of many intimidation attempts by the likes of Megatron, the aged medic found it all too easy to keep his cool; even while on the receiving end of yet another angry, accusatory rant.

"I was unsure of the state in which he would return," Ratchet replied evenly, not yet yelling but his tone warning of its impending volume, "and wanted as low-stress of an environment as possible. His call was completely unexpected, and I partially feared his injuries were worse than what Vince initially reported."

"Or what if it had been a Decepticon trap?" She demanded. "We would have all been taken by surprise!"

The medic looked at her in a straight deadpan. "Do you truly believe my judgement is that atrocious?"

"Considering it's your judgement which put Jack in this situation in the first place, I think I have every right to call it into question!" Arcee snapped back, catching the extremely minute flinch of his EM field with bitter satisfaction.

Ratchet came back with as equally as strong of a point. "If Jack had been traumatized, beaten, assaulted, do you truly think it would benefit his mental state to have the whole of the Autobot base bearing down on him?" He asked, tone reminiscent of disciplining a bitlet, "I gave him the right to basic decency by private examination and questioning. Once I cleared Jack, I sent him with Agent Fowler for further evaluation by human physicians to ensure he received the care he needed."

Hesitating, Arcee's winglets twitched in agitation. He was right, she deduced with simmering anger, but that still did not make her happy. Jack was her partner, her responsibility, even if he could no longer visit the Autobots on a frequent basis. To hear she had missed his safe return was mildly suspect, but more than anything hurt. Did Ratchet not at least trust her to keep her cool in front of Jack?

Did Jack ask him not to notify Arcee he was safe? He was here?

"Is there anything of concern we need to know, old friend?" Optimus rumbled, quietly gliding through the tension.

Ratchet met his Prime's optics, professional mask not betraying even a sliver of deception. "No. Despite what we feared, Megatron treated Jack well. He kept him nourished and as pain-free as any Cybertronian could muster. Jack has told both myself and Agent Fowler Megatron is unawares of his new location. From what I gathered they had multiple conversations on the matter, and Jack remained steadfast each time. Rather than punish him, Megatron elected to honor his wishes, and brought him back to Jasper."

Silence as each mecha digested what they were told. Disbelief was the primary emotion flickering across fields, replacing the cold anger in Arcee's veins. Even Optimus appeared surprised by this, however his demeanor remained as calm as ever, and he felt a sense of relief wash across his spark. As disturbing as it was, it reassured him to know Megatron remained gentle with Jack. Though a new worry twisted across his CPU.

Had they reached a new deal? One Jack refused to tell the Autobots?

"That's it?" Arcee was equally as skeptical. "He just . . . Let him go?"

Ratchet paused. "As unbelievable as it seems, Jack did not appear in distress."

Optimus drew the next logical conclusion himself. "So it is unlikely Megatron plans to collect him at a later date to continue their interactions, or possibly coerce him to give up his current location to continue their trysts."

His medic merely shrugged, appearing to agree with the Autobot leader. In reality, Ratchet attempted to be as vague as possible; patient confidentiality did not mean he should lie to his fellow team members. Though none of them seemed any wiser to his careful avoidance of a straightforward answer.

Arcee's optics drifted downwards. "But can we trust him? Can we trust Jack to not keep secrets?"

"I do," Ratchet replied nonchalantly, calmly. Nearly everyone seemed surprised by this. "Jack was genuine and answered my questions honestly. I trust if something happened, if he felt he was in danger, he would have told me."

Optimus Prime regarded his friend for a long time, nodding slowly with consideration.

"I believe you and Jack have built enough rapport he would confide in you if necessary," it took a bit of self restraint for Ratchet not to snort in disbelief; rapport? The eldest of the children tolerated him, at best. He wasn't friendly like Rafael, or overbearingly social like Miko - Jack was mild, a neutral party, and it was more often than not he and the medic had opposing thoughts on a matter. He was certainly like Orion Pax in his steadfast ideologies.

And his inability to resist the Decepticon leader's charm.

"I like to think so too," the medic said wryly. He knew Jack only trusted him because of his duty to the medical code; had he not that, then the human would have kept his secrets. Their rapport was not based on emotional connection, as Optimus implied; only professional courtesy.

The human was tactful, Ratchet could give him that.

"Optimus, permission to meet Jack at the hospital?"

"Denied," the Prime turned towards his saboteur, whose blue optics were twitching in increased agitation. "I will request Jack be brought to the Autobot base once he is cleared by his physicians. Until then, I believe it would be best to allow him to heal without the stress of our questioning."

"There is one finding I wish to bring up," Ratchet interrupted slowly. "I do not believe it is causing Jack any harm, however I am concerned as to its implications. Jack was sustained using energon - my scans confirmed it was present all throughout his body. He said himself while the taste was unpleasant, he had no ill side effects after consuming it."

Optimus' optics widened a hair, his open intake the only betrayal of his shock. The others had a much more dramatic reaction, this time Bulkhead - looking far better now than he did when he initially woke from his slumber - speaking up on the matter.

"Energon?! Wouldn't that kill him?" He gaped.

"I initially theorized this, yes," Ratchet was frowning, hardly excited about this potentially life-changing find, "due to Energon originally being from Cybertron; therefore, the compatibility with humans should be nonexistent. However, we now know they have evolved from the seeds of Unicron, a Cybertronian himself, and have coexisted in the presence of both normal and dark Energon for thousands of years. Perhaps they are more tolerant than we initially believed."

"But Megatron doesn't know that," Arcee frowned. "Unless . . ."

Optimus said the name for her. "Amicus," he agreed, "would have needed to consume Energon to survive. Megatron would have most likely observed this and deduced modern humans may have this ability as well."

"So he used Jack as a science experiment," the two-wheeler replied wryly.

"No," Ratchet huffed, "whether we like it or not, Megatron wishes to preserve Jack's life, at any cost. He would not give him energon if he had reason to believe it would harm him."

The Autobots did not appear comforted by the notion, and in Ratchet's defense he did not trust this assessment either. He recognized the marks along Jack's body as intimate in origin, the bites sprinkled along his skin accompanied by shallow abrasions caused by claws gripping his flesh. No matter his opinions on the subject, his most crucial objective was to ensure they were not something Jack had resisted. No matter Optimus' confidence in his former friend's morals, Ratchet had to assume the worst unless proven otherwise. Jack insisted he had wanted this, and though Ratchet could question his choices, he was at least relieved the young man was safe.

As twisted as it may be, he was relieved Jack had not done this against his will.

"How was Jack otherwise?" Optimus questioned.

Ratchet sometimes wondered if he could read his mind. "I would prefer to keep patient confidentiality, however I will assure you, Optimus, outside of the joint injuries Vince described to us, Jack is faring well."

The Prime nodded slowly, appearing satisfied by Ratchet's answer. The medic only felt a small twinge of guilt for concealing the truth from his leader, yet he needed Jack to trust someone, before he was hurt.

Before he was killed.

Their line buzzed, all of the Autobots jumping in surprise at the unexpected call. The Omega One system immediately recognized Agent Fowler's number, his profile picture glaring out at them. It was a fitting photograph for the liaison, Optimus Prime the closest to the monitors and answering it with a gentle tap of his massive digit.

"Agent Fowler?"

"Prime, the doc on the phone?"

Ratchet's optics narrowed minutely, frowning. "I'm here, Agent Fowler."

A short sigh. "Jack's ER physician has some follow-up for you."

The pause was borderline awkward, Ratchet able to feel optics boring holes straight into his back struts. The medic sighed, taking Optimus' place at the monitors. Keeping his expression neutral, his optics trained on the computer.

"I will transfer you to my private comlink," he felt Arcee bristle behind him, and even Optimus' EM field lightly flexed against his in confusion. Yet he remained steadfast, finally offering them a well-placed look.

Patient confidentiality, after all.

Arcee looked as if she was prepared to protest, yet with a click Ratchet heard static as the line transferred to him, speaking aloud. "Alright, I'm ready."

A quiet shuffle as the personal device exchanged hands, Ratchet waiting and unsure what voice to expect.

"Doctor Ratchet?"

It was odd to hear his designation used in such a manner, the physician answering in return. "I am he."

"Hello, this is Dr. Jameson," the man introduced. "I saw Jack- Nick Dolion in my ER tonight. Agent Fowler informed me you would like to be updated on the results of his blood tests."

The medic heard shifting behind him, electing to ignore it. "Yes. I don't need exact values, but I would like to know of any abnormalities they may have picked up on."

"Most of his results were normal," a relief, though still concerning as the physician continued, "his hematocrit was bumped, but without previous test results, I couldn't tell you if that's his baseline, or something he had before he began ingesting energon . . . are you aware of what hematocrit is?"

"It measures the amount of red blood cells in a sample, yes," Ratchet confirmed smoothly, "you said it was elevated?"

"'Bumped' is perhaps the term I would use. Higher than normal, but not so high that I'm immediately concerned," the human paused, "I would initially theorize dehydration, yet when asked Jack informed me he had been drinking water in conjunction with the energon, though admitted he wasn't necessarily thirsty at the time. In addition, his CMP - the metabolic panel - was all normal. Glucose perhaps on the low end at 83, but his potassium, sodium . . . I wouldn't look at these labs and be worried about anything. Especially since he's asymptomatic."

Ratchet frowned, disliking how average everything seemed to be. "Is it possible Jack may crash if we immediately transition him from energon to human-grade foods again? Surely switching primary sustenances like this could wreak havoc on the human body."

"I would proceed with caution, yes," Dr. Jameson agreed, "not necessarily calling us animals, but we are always advised to do slow transitions when switching foods for our cats and dogs, otherwise they could be sick and miserable for a couple of days. Jack may be the same way."

"I will keep the advice in mind," Ratchet found it only mildly odd he was having a true physician-to-physician conversation for the first time in ages. Nowadays consultations were rare, unheard of; there was something pleasantly nostalgic about exchanging advice and medical expertise with another professional. "What other labs did you collect?"

"I didn't think it would hurt to order a thyroid panel, procalcitonin, and lactic acid; I also did a urinalysis and drug screen to cover my bases," a sudden halt, "which reminds me, his UDS did come back positive for opiates, which is consistent with his story of receiving hydrocodones for pain."

Ratchet grunted in confirmation. "He informed me of that as well. Anything else?"

A short pause, likely the physician skimming through his results. "No. MRI is currently pending. I considered a CTA for a brief moment, but tendons and ligaments won't show up on the scans. We would see soft tissue inflammation, which I found on physical examination, and possibly any bone fragments if he broke something, but that's about it. So I elected to skip giving him any unnecessary radiation and do an in-house MRI. He's doing that right now."

"I understand. Thank you for the call."

"Of course. Do you have any questions for me?"

Ratchet tapped his digits against the console, allowing a vent to cycle through as he thought. None outright came to his processor, leaving him to answer with: "I don't believe so. Thank you once again, Dr. Jameson."

"Of course. I will, um, hand the phone back to Agent Fowler and let him take it from there."

The Autobot did not answer, instead waiting with a sliver of patience as the phone was carried once again, then handed back to its owner.

"Everything good, Ratchet?"

"Yes, Jack appears quite healthy," he assured. "Does June have any questions?"

"She might have a few. I'll put her on." Another exchange.

"Doctor?"

"June," he could not tell if it was the phone which made her sound small, or if she was truly that worried. "Jack's test results are reassuring."

"And he's okay?" She sounded too stressed to hope, yet tried, silently pleading the Autobot medic would tell her what she wanted to hear.

Though, at this point, it was difficult to tell her wants. On one servo, she needed reassurance; yet on the other, she fully expected to be told her son had gone through the pits and back at the hands of Megatron. Ratchet almost cynically informed her it had been quite the opposite, yet he restrained himself for Jack's sake.

"Yes," he said simply, continuing, "and I fully believe Jack was genuine with me when he told me he had not suffered any other injury or malice. While we had plenty of evidence to fear for his safety, Megatron has proven he would much rather honor Amicus' legacy rather than destroy it."

Her voice shook with soft confusion. "What do you mean?"

Ratchet audibly sighed. "I believe Jack is safe, and Megatron means him no harm, despite our initial assumption."

"Do you really think that?" She demanded. "He has ended up in the hospital twice now, because of him!"

"Accidents which were not intentionally caused by Megatron, but yes, he is the catalyst for these events," Ratchet was not about to defend the mech, but he would offer a logical middle ground, "I do not advise giving up your witness protection, for the sole reason of preventing more harm from coming to Jack by proxy of interacting with Megatron. But I hope to offer some reassurance. He is not in immediate danger."

He could tell by the long silence June was unsure how to approach this offering, though he did not expect her to accept it either way. She was headstrong, stubborn, qualities her son quite obviously picked up from her; perhaps most admirably, though, she refused to let troublesome things lie. Megatron would not come near her son again, she would make certain.

As certain as she could, Ratchet idly wondering how Jack planned to dance around his mother. If he planned.

"Thank you," it was dry, disingenuous, June attempting to be polite, "I will keep that in mind." A pause. "Did Jack tell you anything? Did he really keep our new location a secret?"

"I believe he is telling the truth," and Ratchet really did. Though he had every right to call Jack a liar, he sincerely trusted him with being honest. "After the high stress he experienced keeping his deal with Megatron a secret the first time, he does not appear inclined to experience it again. I trust Jack."

I trust him. What a bizarre, absurd thing to say after so much. Yet he could.

". . . alright. Alright." She took a breath. "Thank you for bringing him back, Ratchet. Thank you for bringing him home."

"Of course, Nurse Darby."

She swallowed. "Have a good night. Or, rest of the morning."

"And you as well."

A click, and she hung up, leaving Ratchet in silence. The main hanger remained empty, his servos resting against the keyboard to support the weight of his aching joints.

Somehow, he had a feeling this was only the beginning of something greater. A reincarnation of the trouble they had already scrambled to fix once Jack came clean. Why he agreed to keep such secrets was beyond him, blaming his old, soft spark and Orion Pax.

Jack reminded him far too much of his old friend, the one molded and changed by the Matrix of Leadership into someone so much more. Ratchet was happy for him, of course, and trusted Optimus Prime just as much as he did when he was no more than an archivist. Yet he missed what was now hardened by war, steeled by tragedy, evolved into something which could never come back.

He saw these things once again in a mere human, and his spark pulsed at the thought of losing them. They almost had, when Jack had a borderline mental breakdown. He swore he would not see it happen again.

That was why he agreed to remain in confidence. Because he was selfish.

Selfish, just like the mech who started this.