Resonance

by Guardinthena

When Optimus Prime faces termination on the battlefield, Phage makes a desperate gamble to turn the tables on the Decepticons. Her plans go awry when she's taken hostage by Megatron, who believes she has the Matrix. Despite Decepticon concepts of hospitality, Phage objects to the claim that she has the sacred relic. What she does have and will not say, is Optimus Prime's spark.

20. Entangled

The moment the Medbay door slid open, a cacophony of Autobot cheers and well wishes slapped the security detail's audios.

"They're back!"

"You're the mech, Jazz!"

"I need to hear the account firsthand! Was there explosions? Tell me there was explosions!" Called Sideswipe eagerly from amongst the rabble.

"Jazz was leading." Cliffjumper proudly declared. "Of course there was explosions! Probably set off in some choreographed fashion."

Jazz soaked in the fanfare and reciprocated it with his typical charismatic charm. He grinned widely and waved to the crowd to quiet them down so he could answer in turn. "Sorry, mechs!" He crooned. "No choreographed explosions this time! I didn't have that much time to plan."

"Boo." Teased Sunstreaker.

"Where is the lady of the hour?" Shouted Sideswipe from the medberth he was lounging across.

"No! No, no, no." Prowl immediately cut in. "We discussed this ahead of their arrival. No swarming the returning crew."

"But-"

"No."

By diverting the attention away from Phage-One, it gave the dual combiner a chance to compose themselves. They had been overwhelmed by the fanfare and had instinctively withdrawn into the center of the security detail where, between Prowl and Jazz's frames, they caught snippets of the jovial Autobot's. From the corner of their peripheral, they spied the reckless grin plastered across Cliffjumper's face, assuring her that she had at last gained his good graces. The little red minibot must have glimpsed them in turn, because he cried happily with a great guffaw, "You crazy sprite! I can't believe you tricked Megatron! Then stabbed him!"

Cliffjumper was promptly elbowed by Windcharger, who was sitting beside him, and whom then ribbed him good-naturedly. "Better than your aim, huh, 'Cliff?"

The gusto drained right out of Cliffjumper but his ego suffered little damage. "Oh, put a wrench in it." He grumbled. And, with just a bit too much force, Cliffjumper promptly shoved his fellow minibot's shoulder and sent Windcharger tumbling off the medberth. Few of the larger mass of Autobot's seemed to notice the tumble, except for those immediately nearby who laughed at the spectacle as though it were some great comedy. Even Windcharger himself, when he reclaimed his footing, was grinning at the rise he had gotten out of Cliffjumper despite the repercussions.

Phage-One's attention had drifted off of Cliffjumper and landed next on Ironhide, her attention so attracted to the mech because Ratchet was buried in his backside. A swell of wonder and concern filled their spark as they studied the doctor, at a loss for what was going through his cranium in the last few years. Whatever it was eluded them still, as Ratchet was so absorbed in his task that he had yet to notice their entry or else was deliberately ignoring them to focus on his task at hand. His single minded attention left Phage-One baffled for answers. And then there was Ironhide who, upon noticing their attention between the security teams frames, made a signal with his servo in approval, a grin, then he indicated Ratchet above him and mimed 'run.' The silent warning was lighthearted and only served to reinforce Prowl's own forewarning earlier about the CMO praising and cursing her name interchangeably.

Perhaps upon some signal or spoken indication they had missed, Prowl and Jazz took the moment to fan out to permit Phage-One and the rest of the security detail entry into the Medbay. Prime's persona kicked in then and forced her to the forefront. They smiled amicably and waved to the Autobot forces who burst into cheer and praise for her brave, selfish and cunning actions the day prior. In the midst of the fanfare, Phage-One spotted Sunstreaker and Sideswipe in the sea of faces.

Cold reality suddenly and violently crashed down over her cranium. They locked optics with the Badland Terrors and time slowed to a crawl. She was mortified to find that the damage Megatron had dealt to them had left the Lamborghini Twins stripped of the majority of their exodermal armor. For reasons not even Optimus Prime could compute, they were regenerating slowly from their melee when they were renowned for a healing factor that could restore them near instantaneously as Phage had experienced personally with her own. As such, their silver-white alloy skin bore a crisscrossing array of angry white scars. And yet, despite their semi-nude state, the Autobot Twins were far from put off by their vulnerable state and, in fact, Phage-One wondered if they had jumped into pose to flaunt their well defined muscular bio-chanic bodies upon their entry. Per the norm, Sunstreaker was aloof, arms crossed, yet smiling pleasantly. A handsome facade that Pandora wished she had understood months ago had hid his callous barbs and cold spark. By comparison Sideswipe was open and shooting her his signature flirtatious smirk that had once put butterflies in her stomach and made her blush and smile coyly back, but now invoked a tired indifference.

Seeing them now just invoked an immediate sense of guilt and dread. They got into that confrontation with Megatron because of her. Because she had run onto the battlefield. How could she be so self absorbed that she had not considered their sacrifice at all? How was it when she was in the thick of it, and had a moment to spare beyond her immediate survival, she could only think badly of them when they had thrown themselves bodily between her and Megatron? How was it when she had nearly died, she didn't think of them once? She wanted to soul search then and there but had not the time to spend contemplating the issue of her tangled emotions any further. What Endurus did grasp in that nanoklik of optic contact was that it was not right that they were not one of her top priorities to consider, especially in life or death situations. She had not even spared a moment to fret over how they would be affected if she had not made it out of the Decepticon seabase alive. Feeling that she had come to a quiet yet firm conviction over her revelations, and though she knew it was not going to be a pleasant thing, Pandora Endurus knew then and there what she would have to do later.

Her new found conviction was as uplifting as it was a strange new wondrous creature to her, and she was determined to keep it. Although the experience should not have been all that new to her, it was still strange how much she had changed in a day. She was not the same timid femme that had hunkered in the Command Center watching the battle through Teletraan-One. But the rest of the Autobot's were the same. None of them had changed in the way she had grown in the last twenty-four hours.

She had an epiphany then. Given the Autobot's age and experiences, their characters were set in stone and asking them to change was as sure a sign of madness as asking mountains to dance with gaiety. The Cybertronians were unlikely to change, but she was assured to find new layers to them as certain as mountains had sedimentary layers. And certainly she had discovered some of those layers in Ratchet, and Jazz and Sea Spray. Just as she was laying down her own layers within herself. So assured by the analogy, she knew that Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were who they were and she could not force them to change, as much as she had tried to help them in their time together. She could not heal Sunstreaker's spark when he was married to his pain. She could not enlighten Sideswipe to his toxic codependency with his brother when that relationship was older than humanity itself and had worked for them for all that time. She could, however, walk away.

As the emotional conflict raged within her mind and spark upon spotting the Lamborghini Twins, it must have passed in some fashion across her face because the Twins' expressions became hard before concern tinted their expressions. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker shared an inscrutable look between them before they refocused their disapproval on her.

:I am curious, how did you fall for them again? What was it that attracted you?:

:Sideswipe is...was?... so charming.:

:And Sunstreaker?:

She wanted to blush. :Shush.:

Optimus Prime's avatar drew up as he took a priceless moment to process what had just happened. :Did you just shush me?: He asked with an edge of incredulous amusement to his Send.

:Shush.: Repeated the Endurus's avatar with her fast becoming characteristic playful smirk and teasing manner.

As her agitation began to rise at the Twins over the hard looks they were throwing her way, Phage-One quickly realized it was not just the Twins demeanor that had shifted. As Phage-One looked around, the smiles had faded from the Autobot's faces and their cheers were replaced by hushed murmurs. Worried, weary optics cast on her or else visors flared briefly in quiet disturb. Put off by the whiplash of enthusiasm, Phage-One let her servo rest back at her side.

Cliffjumper was the first to speak up and asked with genuine concern, "Phage, you, ah...functioning well?"

"I am." Responded Phage-One with the polyphonic overtones that their vocal processor had adapted when both Pandora Endurus and Optimus Prime were speaking and acting as a singular unit. It was their voice more than their response that caused additional stir among the Autobots, especially Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. The Twins gaped openly and then glanced nervously at each other. "Why do you ask, Cliffjumper?"

"It's just that, uh..." Stuttered a frustrated Cliffjumper as he, as well as others, marked the lazy path her coiling omni-hair was cutting through the air. "Well, I mean to say, your reformate came out better than we feared. But, well..."

Jazz stepped in then to intervene. "Now don't anyone get your wires crossed. Ratchet will get the two sorted back out right proper."

"Oh!" Chirped up Cliffjumper and numerous other Autobot's. "Of course!"

Phage-One glanced hard around at every bot, trying to figure out what had caused the shift in mood, when Sideswipe piped up. "What about the omni-snakes?" Phage-One's attention snapped back in their direction and met Sideswipe's intent gaze. "Is that...um, fixable?"

Phage-One's acid green optics narrowed to venomous slits at Sideswipe. Immediately control slipped from the combiner conscious to Pandora Endurus. Once again their voice reflected the change. "Beg pardon?" Bit the Endurus with her cool cadence, irked at Sideswipe's mere suggestion she change her newly reformated appearance.

Sideswipe shrugged her off. Clueless, he asked; "What? It's a legit question."

"It is none of your concern."

"I think it's everyone's." Countered Sunstreaker.

Phage-One's mouth twitched at a corner, threatening to break into a disgusted sneer. :How is my omni-hair causing such a negative reaction?: Pondered Pandora Endurus.

:Ah.: Sent Optimus after a moment's ponder. :You would have to understand our ancient histories.:

:What?: Pandora chortled in disbelief.

Whether it was the palpable shift in the mood in the Medbay, Sideswipe mentioning 'fix,' or simply that Ratchet had completed what he was repairing inside of Ironhide, the good doctor chose then to break from his personal work-focused trance. He shot straight up, medical tools in servo, and seemed to emerge in true shape. The doctor was overworked, under charged and in fine snappy form. He shot the team quick glances as he hurried to clean his servos and tools. "It's about damn time! Could you lugheads have gone any slower getting back? Phage plucks Prime's spark and you act as if it isn't a medical emergency! Where is she?"

Jazz swept aside to offer her as sacrifice to Ratchet's fury. "Here she is, doc. Better off than any of us."

Having finally found his cleaning rag and oil remover, he turned about then to give them his full attention whilst he cleaned himself and his tools off. "I'll be the judge of..." Ratchet paused mid tirade, optics widening when he caught sight of her. The insecurity over her appearance hit her harder than before. "Spires of Iacon." Ratchet murmured, optics sweeping her cranium to pede and back. Phage-One realized then that the Medbay had gone completely quiet. "Not...what I was expecting."

"What were you expecting?" Asked the Endurus with a quirk of her optical ridge and a flat edge. Ratchet was about to say when he was interrupted.

"Not that you'd look like you got your CPU blown out." Sunstreaker jabbed. Phage-One gaped at the Yellow Terror before shooting him a withering glare. Then Sideswipe, oblivious to the situation, asked of nobody and everyone all at once, "Is that common when organics cyber ascend? I'd prefer the mimicry of human hair."

A grumble and huff drew everyone's attention back to Ratchet. "Tch! I was going to say, that I certainly did not expect that your synthetic hair would coalesce into Quintesson appendages. I was expecting Optimus Prime's spark to code onto your frame and alter it, but it appears that hasn't happened." He squinted then, eyeing them carefully. "Certainly not a truck. Definitely a four wheeler and...You got taller, didn't you?" Groused the doctor. Genuinely confused by Ratchet's observations, since she had not the time to examine herself, Phage-One glanced to Jazz for confirmation, only to realize with a start that she was at optic level with him, where before, as Phage, she had come up comfortably to his chassis. Reflecting back fast, she realized when she had shifted sizes outside the Ark to her proper Cybertroninic height, she had simply not registered the difference due to stresses and sharing Optimus Prime's perspective, whom was use to most everyone being smaller than him.

Phage-One's stunned reaction at realizing she was indeed taller amused some of the Autobot's. Chortles and bold laughter rung out but it was Ratchet's abrupt sigh that drew their attention back. Appearing more tired than ever, he added; "If the reformate isn't up to your standards we can discuss cosmetic reconstructive surgery after the force is back in top notch order. I would highly suggest it so you don't disturb the crew."

"I beg your pardon!" Exclaimed Pandora Endurus bordering outrage at Ratchet's bold suggestion. He was just examining his tools when she had her outburst and his attention snapped back to her in mild surprise. "Cosmetic surgery? Disturb the crew!" In addition, she was going to add what in hell was a Quintesson, but before the words could form on her glossa her brain was pulling up information from Optimus Prime. Images flashed across her mind's eye of a grotesque transorganic, whose origins, if she had to guess, were based from an aquatic planet. Omni-directional snakes poured from the bottom of its body, which was no more than a mechanical upside-down egg, and five separate heads shared that body, each more disturbing than the next. From the data rolled into the imagery Pandora disseminated that the Quintesson were, a long long time ago, the rulers of Cybertron and enslavers of the Cybertronian race. With that knowledge came an immediate understanding that Cybertronians had a certain level of ingrained repulsion towards transorangics and organics in general. Pandora Endurus was left floundering at the revelation and reflecting on a long list of series of events since the Autobots Reactivation that suddenly made so much sense.

In the spare nanoklik it took her to digest the information on the Quintesson's that Optimus Prime had so graciously shared, Ratchet popped an optical ridge as he quickly cleaned his tools and set them neatly on the tray next to Ironhide. "Yes. Disturbing the crew." Ratchet replied with emphasis. "Look at Prowl."

At the mention of his designation, Phage-One's attention immediately jumped to Prowl and caught the mech trying to look professional, but as she turned to look her omni-hair had a life of its own, in a literal sense, and coiled and slithered as it rose off her shoulder struts and flowed through the air. She realized he was watching her omni-hair closely and flinched when it slid through the air close to him, though he had put distance between them already.

"Thanks, Ratchet." Prowl grumbled irritably. "I hadn't even considered a Quintesson correlation."

"Then why are you doing that?" Snipped Pandora.

Prowl pulled a face. "The Praxian Medusa had omni-hair."

"The who-" She began but cut herself off once more. "Nevermind!" She clicked, wide opticed and disturbed as she was hit with another data upload from Optimus Prime's memories. The sensation was not unlike recalling a piece of information on the spot, though she knew she had never had the information before. The mention of the Praxian Medusa was strangely familiar and she quickly realized why. It had been referenced in passing in an early memory Optimus Prime had shared with her at the Decepticon sea base. It had been brought up as a cruel joke by Wheeljack during the meeting of the Autobot Officers back on Cybertron. A meeting that dealt with a much younger Optimus Prime struggling in his role and the conflict with the Altihex Virus's first introduction. But the data transfer now, like the Quintesson one before, went further than the brief memory. Again, Pandora Endurus was granted an image of a malformed Cybertronian, a femme by form, with wild omni-hair crowning her cranium and interfacing jacks on the end of each snake...similar to Soundwave's. The Praxian Medusa was a mechanical worlds horror, a hybrid between a vampire and gorgon, only this monstrosity hacked into craniums like a mnemosurgeon to steal memory and data, leaving its victims brain modules burnt out husks rather than drank their energon. Pandora was struck by the demonized artistic representation of the Praxian Medusa and quickly understood from Optimus Prime's memories that there was little to no video of the Praxian Medusa. Cybertron's notorious serial killer was based on damaged security feeds, fleeting eye witness accounts and how its victims died. And Prowl, poor Prowl, had been one of the police officers tasked with finding the malform and failed. It was a case that still racked his processor millions of years later. She had sympathy for the mech to have endured such a horrid case.

Ratchet was still observing Phage-One critically and asked carefully, "Do you not want me to remove them? Perhaps I was hastily presumptuous in assuming you would prefer what you had before." Phage-One floundered, completely thrown off by the turn of events. In hindsight, Ratchet's offer to remove her omni-hair did not sound so terrible after all. If she had been Cybertron born and raised, she too would probably have been freaked out that she possessed them at all and, perhaps, jumped at the offer. Instead she was left reeling.

Abruptly, Phage-One's face set in grim determination. She lifted her servos, took hold of the lively mass of omni-hair, and began manipulating it. One of Ratchet's optical ridges arched high on his forehead. "What are you doing?"

"There." Pandora Endurus announced as she cast Sideswipe and Sunstreaker shade after having finished braiding the thick strands. "Is that better? Bunch of pansy's. And you call yourselves Wreckers."

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker prickled at the slight. "Now wait a darn klick!" Snapped Sideswipe.

"No, no. Everything is fine. See?" Pandora insisted sweetly. "The big mean ol' omni-hair has been locked away. They cannot hurt you now."

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe's faces set into twin stony glares. "You're going to regret that later." Rumbled Sunstreaker but she threw him a taunting smirk back. It was a swift exchange that left the Autobot forces amused and Jazz glancing curiously between the three. And still, Ironhide burst into deep guffawing over her wisecrack comeback, but it quickly subsided into a grimace of pain for how it upset his injuries. In spite of the setback, Ironhide flashed a grin at the Badland Terrors. "Bit of friendly advice, 'bots. Don't upset your lady friend. Her glossa is sharp and wit is quick."

"Is that advice from personal experience, Ironhide?" Sideswipe shot back.

"Yes." He replied flatly. "Don't upset your lady friend. Especially if she's your commander."

"Phage isn't-" Sideswipe began to spit then hung up as he caught Phage-One's stoic expression that was so reminiscent of Prime. The fight went right out of him. "Right."

"How long has she-er, they? They." Ratchet butt in abruptly and consequentially stumbled over his words before deciding to himself the proper address. "How long have they been hyper focused?"

"The whole time." Answered Jazz.

"Who says I'm hyper focused?" The Extraction Team threw Phage-One disbelieving looks.

Ratchet shot her an askance glance and asked pointedly; "Have you even registered you were kidnapped, Phage?"

The Endurus's expression went deadpan. "Kidnapped? Please, Ratchet. I was just on one of those fancy adventure retreats." Despite his efforts to remain stoic, Jazz began chortling. "Of course I know I was kidnapped!"

"I see recent events have had zero effect on your sass." Ratchet replied with his own impassive edge.

"It has only ramped it up."

Ratchet rolled his optics and mumbled; "Primus grant me patience." Then added loudly, "You will be restricted to the Medbay for the next few days for surveillance."

Panic stole across Phage-One's face. "The next few days?"

"Yes." Drawled Ratchet. "Your impending procedures require an immense amount of cycles to complete, for obvious reasons, and will require recharge. ...And because you're in shock. You really haven't registered what's happened to you yet."

"That's your professional medical opinion?"

"Yes." Ratchet ground back.

Prowl interjected to say, "It's best to listen to the doctors advice." Phage-One and Prowl shared a charged look, before Phage-One relented.

"I can get books at least?"

"Thank you, Prowl." Ratchet vented tiredly then gestured towards a medberth that had been cleared near the back of the Medbay, where there had been in the Ark's glory days a wall length window, long since shattered. The only view it had shared in four million years was the inside of their stony tomb. "Phage, I need you to move over there and lie down for spark extraction."

"I do not have Optimus Prime's spark, Ratchet." Phage-One replied.

A switch suddenly flipped in the doctors mood. "If not you, then who?" He demanded tersely and sharp.

"I do." Said Sea Spray, who had just arrived in tow with the Aerialbots and was unaware of what he was walking into. Aside to Jazz, he began to ask why it took them so long to use the lift when Ratchet cut him off before he could finish his question.

"You better have a pitt good reason why!" Ratchet barked, his engine beginning to rev. "I do not need to perform a triple resonance severance today!"

Sea Spray's visor flared briefly. "Untwist your circuits, doc, I have a secondary casing for emergency transfers."

"Thank the Sacred Flame!" Ratchet sighed dramatically. "The one good piece of news I've heard in two days! Sea Spray, report to that station over there. Wheeljack, run to the back station there and retrieve the spark extractor. Phage, you are not excused to leave!" He immediately snapped, though she had not moved to do so, and jabbed a wrench in her direction. "Get yourself checked in the back room now! I need to run a full diagnostic to determine the extent of any internal damage. Whatever were you thinking-"

Jazz could not help himself. He really couldn't. His smirk was tell all. "Actually, Ratchet, Phage-One does need immediate medical attention."

"Jazz." Phage-One hissed, quietly trying to reprimand him but to no avail.

Ratchet stalled up. "Who?" He demanded just before the rest of Jazz's words sunk in to his recharge-depraved processor. His next words were deceptively cold and collected. "...Why?"

"Have you not been checking the Autobot public chat?"

"I'm working." Stressed Ratchet irritably. "But it's hard to miss intel when I'm surrounded by clucking cyber-hens."

"Hey!" Protested Ironhide.

"I said clucking cyber-hens, not cybertronic horses. Are your audio receptors malfunctioning too, Ironhide?"

"Very funny." Grumbled Ironhide with a roll of his optics. "The doctor's a comedian."

Ratchet scoffed at Ironhide before grumbling at Jazz. "I got the news: Phage transferred Prime's spark in a risky gamble, that she stupidly went pede-to-pede with Megatron and that her body is exhibiting Matrix empowered capabilities due to Prime's spark." Phage-One glanced askance at Prowl and Jazz at Ratchet's last flippant remark. "Oh. And that she lifted his personality weave before he flatlined. Was there something else I missed?"

"No." Replied a dejected Jazz.

"If you're trying to give me a shock make sure 'Bee doesn't spread the information first." Remarked Ratchet brusquely. He then calmly placed his wrench in its proper place among his tray with a soft defined click. "Now again, Phage, since you do not have Prime's spark anymore, I need you to go to the back room." Ratchet continued as he busied himself with cleaning his servos, first by smearing oil remover all over them then picked up a cleaning rag to wipe the mess off. "Now."

"Why the back room?" Challenged Prowl as Sea Spray pushed himself through the crowd at the door to reach the medberth in question.

"Why the back-" Ratchet began then tersely snapped. "I don't know why you care, but it's the only place outfitted with the equipment I need. Any more third degree questions or can I perform my function?"

"None."

"Good."

---

"It is exactly for moments like these why I studied mnemosurgery." Ratchet sighed as he dropped into the only swivel chair in the small private back room and spun around to face the terminal. His digits began dancing across the key panel, filling the room with the steady beat of rapid keystrokes. Stoic as the mountain, Phage-One stood in the midst of the private medical room, their attention fixed on his back.

"Berth." Clipped the CMO without looking around. They glanced at the medical berth then askance at Ratchet and chose to remain standing. When he realized they had not yet moved, he paused setting up the system to glare sternly at them over his shoulder strut. "What are you doing? Berth. Now. You do not have the luxury of time. You are already exhibiting alarming symptoms. Don't think I missed you switching between vocal patterns. Classic sign of a cortical psyche transfer. So please, I have to determine how far along the entanglement has proceeded."

Phage-One moved purposefully to the medical berth but lingered still. They drew their slim digits across the surface, their features pinched in turmoil.

:I cannot do this.: Sent Pandora Endurus in anxious straits. :I feel as though we are in a lions den.:

:Ratchet was correct in his assessment earlier. You have yet to release the tension in your spring. We are safe in the Ark, Endurus.:

:You mean we are in a small room with Ratchet, who is behaving suspiciously.:

:Pandora.:

:Do not 'Pandora' me. I am not going to drop the ball in the final hour over 'it's Ratchet.' I am on edge that he lied about me and you should be to.:

:I am concerned about his motives. But it is Ratchet. He makes illogical decisions based on what he perceives to be the beneficiary of others.:

: Illogical decisions.: mocked the Endurus. :Just another way to say his hubris gets in his way. Do pray tell, how is lying about my status to Command and causing me emotional and mental turmoil aiding me?:

:I will uncover the truth of that matter when I am returned to my frame.:

:If you make it that far. What if Trailbreaker is right. What if Ratchet was implanted with a Lazalt cerebral shell and is spying on us all. What if I get on that table, he extracts you, then destroys you before you are uploaded back because he fears what you may have learned about me that he has been hiding, which you have?:

:Why on Cybertron would Ratchet destroy my mental engram?:

:You said it: he makes illogical decisions based on his belief that it will be a boon to others. Simply, Ratchet never told Command about me because, for whatever horrid reason, he thinks he is helping me. That is our working theory, yes? Then. Therefore, if his reasoning is so clearly degraded, what is stopping him from destroying you to further that goal.:

:Other than it would expose him immediately? ...Pandora, I also warned you about letting fear and what-ifs consume you.:

: Believe the snake-bitten Cassandra.:

:I am sorry. I am not familiar with that idiom.:

Pandora heaved a mental sigh and expounded on a strained Send. :I would never forgive myself if I lost you over this. Not like this.: Her Send flooded with emotion. :I cannot lose you. I need you.:

They stared intently at Ratchet, processing the situation, weighing out all options until finally Optimus Sent wearily, :...You want me to confront him now. Before the Extraction.:

:I need assurance that you will be fine.: Pandora stressed, desperate.

:I will be.:

:How do you know. If there is even the slightest doubt...: She Sensed Prime hesitate and she pressed her advantage. :You told me that you were convinced that I was always me, yet you still had doubt. I...I understand why you did. How can I not? You had to protect the Autobots despite how much it hurt you. Us. This situation with Ratchet, whatever it is, I am as torn about this as you. Ratchet has been my rock for the last two years. I have nothing but respect for him. He helped me find a new normal when I was completely lost. If he is going through something I want to help him, but you cannot ask me to trust someone who is under the influence or is being manipulated. Whatever Ratchet's situation is. And yet, here you are willing to leap on a medberth to be extracted out of my head, where I know you are safe, under the care of someone who is behaving shady. I hope you can see that our roles are reversed now, Optimus. It is I who must hold doubt to protect you, which, inevitably, means protecting the Autobots as well. So, please. Please, Optimus. ...I am far from comfortable with this.:

"...Ratchet." Intoned Optimus Prime heavily.

"Yes, Prime?" Asked the Chief Medical Officer without lifting his attention away from the terminal for a nanoklik. His digits were busy at the keyboard, pounding away inputs to get the extraction program set up.

"We have known each other a long time." Began Optimus after a moment's pause.

"Yes." Drawled Ratchet curiously. His keystrokes slowed, then stopped completely before he turned in the chair. "What is this?"

Phage-One stared at him across her shoulder strut, a solemn and heavy expression that could have only been Optimus Prime. "You would tell me if there was a problem, would you not?"

Ratchet scoffed. "Tch. Yes. Of course. Is this about the entanglement?" Ratchet asked quickly. "Are you worried about the procedure? I was about to explain that, Prime."

"Not exactly." Phage-One replied cryptically. With their right servo, they kept picking at a singular spot on the medberth while they stared expectantly at Ratchet. The doctor remained stoic. The moment had the potential to stretch into an ugly length if Ratchet had not chose to cut it short.

"Where is this going?" He snipped. "As your doctor, I do not advise putting this operation off even for a breem."

"Ratchet, I need you to be honest with me."

The CMO vented in frustration. "What about?"

Phage-One's face set in a no nonsense frown. "Phage and I have been holding counsel."

"Hah." He scoffed sarcastically. "I imagine."

"It pains me to say, but it has come to my attention that you have been... less than honest, my old friend."

A pregnant silence permeated the small room. Ratchet's weary gaze remained fixed intently on them, expectant and waiting. When Prime did not continue, he cracked. "Less than honest?" Ratchet snorted. "Whatever you mean, it certainly isn't that I withheld information that she's a femme. She flaunts that as boldly as Alita and her femmes did." When Phage-One gave him a very baffled expression, Ratchet sighed and grumbled, "Right. Uh...Phage, on Cybertron, during the War, the few femmes that survived started disguising themselves to pass as mechs. Not all of them. But...look, it was suppose to be a joke."

"I do not get it." Expressed the Endurus flatly.

"Of course not." He grumbled. "You weren't there."

"I did not need to be. I cannot comprehend how you find the matter facetious when it is but another indicator to the tragedy of your times."

"You're-ugh-That wasn't the joke. The joke was that I was dishonest by not disclosing that you were a femme-Oh! Never mind." Ratchet exploded in frustration as Phage-One's chemical green optics narrowed into a fierce glare. "Just never mind! It's not funny if I have to explain it."

"No one was laughing." Murmured the Endurus unhappily, but Optimus Prime seized control back and rumbled with authority; "Ratchet."

"Yes." Sighed the doctor irritably.

"I would like to know what is going on. I know your function is stressful, but I have reason to believe it has gotten the best of even you, old friend, and you have been hiding that fact well from me."

"I don't know what you're going on about. It's just the usual stress levels."

Their optical ridges knotted together. "Phage has caught you imbibing from an unlabeled flask while on the job." Silently, Ratchet mimed an 'aha!' expression. "Was it high grade?" Asked Optimus patiently.

Ratchet threw his cranium back, face pinched and optics closed and grimaced at the ceiling. "Yes, Optimus. Yes. I have been under a lot of stress." He explained crisply. "I have been over worked and under charged."

"So you have been." Optimus replied somberly. "If you needed a break-"

"I do not have a medical team." Bit Ratchet through gritted denta as he snapped his cranium back proper and glared across at them. "I am the only qualified doctor for our species left functioning. I am under an immense amount of stress."

"And you have a substance problem and you know that. The last thing we need is you straying from the road."

"Is that why your stalling? You're worried that I'd—Pitt." Ratchet cursed before he noted the stern glare Phage-One threw his way. He crumpled forward then, elbows on the terminal and his cranium in his servos. He stayed like that a time with Phage-One's stern green optics boring into him. "I would never harm anyone, Prime. Especially not you."

"The drinking."

He came up for air at last and spake; "Yes! It was high grade! Is that what you wanted to hear? I already had an intervention from Wheeljack."

"Really."

"Yes. If you must know, he caught me sipping yesterday and has been overly eager to ease my burden since, which, although appreciated, is just driving me crazy. I don't have the mental capacity or patience to be tutoring right now. I..." He ran his red servos across his face. "I am under a lot of stress, Prime. I am not proud to admit it. I needed something to take the edge off. Just a smidgen."

"Just a smidgen can quickly tumble into abuse."

"I know my limits. Spires, Prime." He then dropped his cranium into his servo and massaged his temples as he mumbled. "This is why Wheeljack is my confident. He gets it." Then aloud he continued and looked to Phage-One desperately. "What can I say to you to settle your fears? It hurts thinking that you believe I would harm you or Phage. I swear on the Matrix that I have not once been drunk on the job. I would never get to that point. I've been down that road once before and I am never revisiting it. And if it helps at all, I already had my aft chewed out for this by Wheeljack. Can we please continue with your procedure?"

"We hurt you by implying that we are worried for our safety under your care? Can we continue?" Echoed the Endurus incredulously. "You just admitted that not more than a day ago you were drinking while on the job." Retorted Pandora Endurus with vitriol. Ratchet gaped, caught off guard by the deep seated anger edging every word. "You were already revisiting that road. And you want me to ignore that? Act as though everything is sunshine and roses-and I am not talking about the Twins." The sharp detour at humor left Ratchet fumbling and again when she took another sharp turn back on the attack. Her vibrant green optics narrowed and burned. "You know how I feel about doctors, Ratchet. You know what Doctor Arkeville did to my mother after my father died! You know that the only doctor I trust on this entire planet is you. And. Only. You."

"Phage...I..."

"You know that I cannot stand for willful negligence or dark medicinal practices. If I cannot trust you..." Her optics swelled with tears that refused to fall. "If I had realized you were imbibing high grade instead of energon... Damn it, Ratchet. You have been my rock these last two years: helping me to walk again, educating me in, well, everything Cybertronian so I can adjust. You have done everything to help me find a new normal. I...I cannot think of a time in the last couple years when I did not seek you for council. You even took me aside to teach me diffusion for self defense. I came to think of you as...as... I..." Pandora Endurus's voice caught then, too full to speak for it had gotten lodged in her throat. She couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't bring herself to say that she had come to think of Ratchet as a father figure in her life.

She struggled to center her emotions. Tried again to speak her mind. To put voice to why Ratchet's habit worried her so terribly, but, as with her conversation with Optimus Prime on the way back to the Ark, she found that it was tied up with more than she anticipated and so quickly lost any notion of how to voice the reason for her worry and suspicion and pain when the root of the matter was buried so deeply in past trauma. Luckily, she did not need to put it all to words. As the Autobots had been with her every step of her life since their fateful first contact. In the end, she blurted out instead, "I trust you deeply, Ratchet. And, I wish you would speak up if something is bothering you so badly that your slipping into old vices. Surely reaching out to talk couldn't be worse than what you are not saying."

"Phage, I..." Ratchet false started, troubled by his demons and thoughts and tried again. "What happened to your mother was a tragedy. And having the honor you bestow upon me is... Well, I think I damaged that didn't I?" His cranium drooped towards his chassis. "As they say, never meet your heroes. We all have our faults."

"You have not damaged it, Ratchet." Softly said Pandora Endurus. "But you cannot have this. There are clean ways to destress." Her voice strained to speak, so choked on raw emotion from past pain that she thought she had long buried but that rose up like a tide, seemingly from nowhere at all, too choke her out when she meant to be strong. She took a moment to compose herself and continued; "And what's this nonsense about Jackie getting it because he's your sponsor. I am not a fool, Ratchet. Confidents are there to prevent a relapse. Not to tell you a little is fine as long as you do not overdo it. You are either clean or not."

It was then that Phage-One glanced sharply aside. :Endurus.:

Still reeling from the painful emotions, Pandora Sent disjointedly, :I do not know where all of that came from.:

:I do. You have always bottled everything up, rather than deal with your emotions in a proper manner. Of course they are going to bubble to the surface if not burst outright. Let me handle matters from here.:

:...As you wish.:

Refocusing on Ratchet and their surroundings, Optimus Prime decided to ease into the medberth behind them, choosing to sit on the edge. Ratchet eyed them carefully as they did, perhaps in a bid to gauge what was coming next. When Optimus settled a sympathetic gaze on him and finally spoke through Phage, he visibly relaxed. "Pa...Phage is really worried about you. We both are, old friend. Is that all that has been bothering you? The workload?"

"You're really not letting this go? I swear, I haven't had a sip of high grade today. Jackie's been on my aft." He gauged their expression and sighed heavily. "...I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you're putting me before yourself...selves?"

"Ratchet." Sighed Optimus tiredly and heavily.

Ratchet was quiet a moment. "It's... a lot of little things, Prime, that just stack up one on top of the other and keep stacking. ...I think you understand that."

"I do."

"Then." Exclaimed Ratchet in exasperation. "Can we run your scan please? This really isn't the time for an intervention for me. I need to focus on the both of you."

:Oh, this is a Ratchet-thing.: The Prime heaved in a mental sigh. :He's buried himself again.:

:I do not know how you know. He has not admitted to anything really. He waited for us to throw him a bone before admitting to the drinking and is still desperate to deflect the conversation off of him. He does not want us to brooch the subject he knows that we will.:

:You did catch that.:

:Of course I did.:

"What little things exactly, old friend?"

Stress lines creased Ratchet's brow. He huffed and shifted in his seat in mounting agitation. "Little things. You know."

"Hm." The subtle noise drew Ratchet's wandering optic. "I know a lot of things." Ratchet became a mute then with his optics fixed on them. Phage-One inhaled steadily through their vents and gradually out. "It has been a stressful vorn. Earth is fast paced, throwing circumstance after circumstance at us at a rapid rate. It weighs on all of us. Some more than others. You know this. You see Huffer is comatose with grief on his worst of days. Red Alert's paranoia has flared badly on this alien planet. And there are those of us that have enjoyed the new experiences Earth has given us; Hound, Bumblebee and Perceptor, to name a few. I mention your comrades, because there is no shame in coming forward to admit that you are struggling. Events have been particularly harsh on you and I regret that. I regret that I had not the foresight to reason that Megatron would place high value in your knowledgeable skills and abduct you. In hindsight, it was such a logical probability."

Ratchet broke contact then and ducked his cranium. His attention laser focused on the screen in front of him. "I... appreciate your concern, Prime. But now isn't the time for one of your pep talks. I really do need to run your scans. We can talk about this later."

"Ratchet." Intoned Pandora Endurus in her calm velvetine vocals. "Look at me when I am speaking, if you please." The CMO looked up slowly and locked optics with Phage-One's unique chemical fire optics. "You know many things. ...You are an incredibly talented medical officer. One of the best to ever grace Cybertron. You can identify various viral afflictions and mechanical failings at a glance. Is this not true?"

"I suppose."

"Don't be modest."

"Yes."

"Then pray tell." She motioned to her optics. "What affliction am I suffering that my optics are green?"

His gaze dropped. "You know many things." He echoed.

"We do." Phage-One responded in unison. "And you. -The truth, old friend. And only the truth." Ratchet's mouth parted and hung there, mute and dry. Her expression fell into one of intense concern. "Whatever pit you think you are in, it cannot be as bad as the one you were in back on Cybertron."

He inhaled sharply. His optics misty. "The cause is...your... matrix."

The silence stretched between them, quickly becoming a heavy and awkward thing. Optimus Prime cut through it by asking sharply calm and soft. "You knew. All this time."

"Of course I did."

"Why did you lie to Command. And me. Why, Ratchet? I cannot commute your reasonings. What benefit could you possibly gain?"

His features twisted then into an ugly countenance with gnashing denta and a glare full of anguish. "What benefit? There was no benefit for me. I was protecting her. You know. That thing that we Autobot's do that separates us from Decepticons. We protect those who cannot protect themselves."

"What?" Gaped a stunned Endurus, but Optimus seized reigns again and demanded, "How."

"How? How. How was I protecting her!? Think, Prime. What happened to you at the Battle of New York? I didn't want the same thing happening to her! Because it would." Ratchet exclaimed angrily, and climbed from his pedes in a fit, gesturing sharply and wildly as all his tightly coiled tension burst. "I know you weren't physical there for that, Alicean. I know you were safe back here. But you heard about it. You saw video of it. From New Yorkers. From our Spycams. What Megatron and the Decepticons did to Optimus Prime. What I had to repair. So when you brought me Phage, Prime, all newly cyber ascended, and I found her matrix, I had to make a call. On the one servo, if I told Command they would demand tests. They would what to see what your matrix could do, Phage. It's just standard. They would want to know if it could create new sparks.-"

Her expression widened and quietly mouthed, "New sparks...?"

"-And if it couldn't, they would want to know if it was more alike to the Heart of Cybertron. Those two tests alone could drastically alter her future. Don't deny it, Prime!" Ratchet snapped as Phage-One's features shifted yet again into Prime's more stoic countenance as she drew up to interject. "Autobot Command would use her just as they use everyone else. I wasn't going to stand for it. She isn't a tool. So of course I withheld the information. What was I suppose to do? I couldn't tell a spark. Not even you, Prime. Especially you. Because I knew. I knew the moment anyone in Autobot Command realized what you have, Phage- That. Was. It. It would be a matter of time before Megatron figured out what was going on and when that happened the entire War would refocus-on-you."

Phage-One sat patiently listening to Ratchet's passionate tirade. As they did, their optical ridges met together and their features fell deeper and deeper in contemplative concern. When he had run his steam Optimus Prime said, "Please sit down, Ratchet. And stop shouting. We are having a civil discussion. ...Thank you. As you were saying, you are correct, Ratchet. She isn't a tool. Phage is a close friend and ally... But-"

"There it is." Snapped Ratchet moodily.

"-had I been aware of the full extent of what the Lazalt had done to her," ground on Prime, now somewhat annoyed, "we could have helped her."

"I was helping her." Ratchet insisted boldly.

"Helping? You were isolating her." Challenged Optimus Prime. "If you wanted to help her and avoid all this trouble for yourself, why not just remove this matrix when you first discovered it?"

"Ha! I wish I could." Ratchet snorted bitterly. "You don't think that was my first thought when I found it? It cannot be removed."

"What?" Optimus Prime scoffed, as the mere suggestion sounded so ridiculous to him. "Why not?"

"It's not like our Matrix, Optimus. There isn't a casing."

"Why does that matter?"

"It matters. From what I can judge by the way it is designed... From what I assume some idiot Lazalt engineer thought was how a Matrix chamber and the Chosen Bearer operated...Well, I can only guess they thought the Chosen was the casing because the damn thing is hardwired into her very frame. I literally cannot remove it. In truth I am afraid of what would happen if I did."

Agog at the news, Phage-One gaped at Ratchet. Their processor was awhirl as they reflected back over yesterday's events. Optimus Prime wondered briefly if the reason her matrix seemed so wild and untamed was because it lacked a proper casing. Was a casing more than just a shell? Did it serve another purpose as a focus for the matrix energies? He had never considered such notions before and hypothesizing on it now was new and exciting for him. But the Endurus was focused on another matter entirely.

"But, Ratchet... If my matrix cannot be removed then how could the Decepticons use it like they did Optimus Prime's?"

Ratchet's face fell into utter concern and worry. "Oh, Phage... That question alone belies your ignorance. Firstly, the most simply yet gruesome way, they could cut it from your frame, Phage. Only Primus knows the backlash it would cause on your systems, but I fear if the Decepticons used the same extremes on you that they did on Optimus Prime at New York, you would terminate. Or, perhaps, it would destabilize your matrix and explode. Remember what happened to the photonic crystal we found in Peru, Prime? Massive energy, and yet easily destabilized. I hope you can see why I feared that outcome. ...Secondly, Phage, we have ways of extracting matrix energies from Optimus Prime without the barbaric means the Decepticons used in New York. We have such a device onboard the Ark now. We merely have to link Optimus Prime to it to extract matrix energies harmlessly from him. Megatron knows of this machine. He could, theoretically, duplicate it if he wanted if he had the blueprints. Or, if, say, he seized the Ark. If Megatron fully understood the risk of extracting your matrix, that it could destabilize the crystal, he may just construct such a machine and integrate you into it. Essentially, use you like some glorified battery. It wouldn't be the first time the Decepticons have committed such heinous crimes..."

"Once I realized the inherent dangers extracting your matrix could do, or what would happen if the Decepticons found out, or how the Decepticons would still find out if I informed Command, I felt this fell into the jurisdiction of private medical information. And so, I moved to protect my patient and friend." As Ratchet's long heated narrative drew to a quiet close, he managed a strained smile at his shell shocked patient and made a bid at humor. "Any further questions?"

Phage-One was stunned into silence at his confession. Multiple times their mouth parted only to close again. Their face twisted, optical ridges creased, they glanced aside and back again and repeated the process. The moment dragged on, until; "Ratchet." Pandora Endurus asked quietly. "When were you going to tell me?"

"Ah. Yes. Well, can I ask you a question: When should I have? In two Earth years you have dealt with a tremendous amount to adjust to your newfound existence; I have helped you to rebuild muscle cable strength just so you could walk again. That alone took quartexs. You also had to learn how to see all over again, all the new colors alone were overwhelming you...Should I have told you then? In the midst of all that?"

"No." She said quietly.

"No." Ratchet agreed with a little nod. "Small steps lead to the larger, successful recovery. I felt dropping a bomb on you that size would have undermined everything."

Her features twisted in agitation once again as Optimus seized control. "You should have came forward with the information, Ratchet. She's been suffering quietly. The Lazalt may not have installed it correctly, but they were closer to recreating the Matrix than Megatron ever was with the Heart. She's been suffering through multiple Signs of Affinity; matrix dreams being one of the most arduous. She needed a mentor. Not..." His words trailed off as Ratchet remained nonplussed by the information, even nodding along expectantly. "...You knew."

His expression went comedically wide. "Of course I knew. I'm a doctor to Prime's. Goodness, Optimus. When I discovered her matrix it was a matter of one plus one. The Lazalt had forged her into a copy of a Prime. It isn't that far of a stretch to assume they attempted what Megatron had with the Heart of Cybertron from there. I'm not proud to say I had some ptsd. Flashed back to when the Decepticons had abducted me on Cybertron to install a matrix chamber in Megatron. I knew, just knew, a repeat of the Heart Campaign was afoot. I dreaded how well the Lazalt had succeeded where Megatron had not, and I found out soon enough. Almost immediately. Within a week of her rescue, in fact. When I broached you about a new designation, Phage, to fit your new existence. You mentioned The Designation that Burns. The First of the Signs. Nearly word for word what Optimus Prime told me, once, long ago, before he ascended to Primehood: 'A designation burned into his processors.' I tell you Optimus, I nearly dropped my datapad."

:You told Ratchet?:

:I...Yes. I believe I did. With everything going on in the last few years I had forgotten. We were discussing how I would have to change my name from Alicean to something more appropriate and I mentioned there was a name burned in my mind. He went oddly still, I remember. I thought his reaction was strange but I didn't think anything else beyond that. I was too preoccupied with needing to choose a name.:

:You told Ratchet the designation?:

:...Come to think of it, yes. Yes I did. I believe he said it was 'too pretentious' for someone of my inexperience. ...So, I chose Phage.:

"And you said you knew about the matrix dreams?" Questioned Optimus Prime brusquely, his tone rumbling.

"Her sleep deprivation was obvious. Irritably. Bouts of anger. Forgetfulness. I approached her to ask, and she tried to be vague with me. Mumbled about old issues. I assumed that could be true, but she had been fine before and what she was exhibiting then was a new acute level. I assumed she could have been suffering matrix dreams and prescribed her your pills to recharge." Phage-One gaped as Ratchet smiled. "See? I had the situation under control, Optimus. I was trained by Oscillate the Living Forge. I tutored under him when Sentinel Prime walked and I have been your doctor for eons. I know what to look for. I know how to deal with Prime problems. Pardon the pun. I knew I could help her."

:There is the hubris.:

"You cannot help me, Ratchet."

"Of course I can. I have been."

"Not in the way I needed."

Anger flashed across his face. "What you needed was protection and obscurity."

"Damn it, Ratchet." Endurus lashed out only for Optimus Prime to cut her off and reel her back in. "What you did." Optimus began instead, "It was an incredibly reckless and dangerous decision for everyone. I am honestly appalled by your hubris, Ratchet." Rumbled Optimus Prime curtly. "You have used your position and influence to manipulate everyone around you. The Autobot Command and I relied heavily on your report and advice in regards to what to do with Phage. You sat there during the meeting and...you played on our concerns. You went so far as to insist I distance myself from Phage." Sudden enlightenment struck the combined pair as abrupt as a lightening strike. "You separated us on purpose. Spires of Iacon, Ratchet." Optimus muttered in disbelief, staring at his long time friend as if he he had grown a second head. "For what? So I wouldn't find out about her matrix?"

Phage-One blinked then, a small twitch, and Pandora Endurus was speaking. Her expression matched Optimus Prime's bewildered and hurt expression. "You did the same with me! When I came to you in private to discuss how Cybertronians formed relationships. You got so flustered and went off on how I shouldn't form any romantic connection at all. I can't wrap my brain around it. Why? Why separate us?"

"I..." stumbled and drawled Ratchet as he struggled to answer the question. "Yes. I am ashamed to admit this part. But, yes. I did position myself however and whenever I could to prevent your secret from coming out, Phage, even if that meant breaking the two of you up. Given Optimus Prime's familiarity with matrix chamber designs...well, could you imagine that? The big secret slipping out because Optimus Prime was klanking you into the next eon and the moment escalated into spark merging? He would have recognized the layout immediately."

Stupefied, Phage-One gaped, unable to respond for priceless nanokliks. As the moment stretched on Ratchet began nervously tapping at the edge of the keyboard. "Everything I did I did to protect her from the same atrocities you have faced yourself, Optimus Prime."

Their mouth twitched into a grimace. "Damn it, Ratchet." They growled in unison but again Optimus pressed on. "Don't you think you should have come forward when Megatron showed an interest in her when her outliner ability sparked? He captured her directly from the Ark! You should have known he would not stop there. You should have come forward. Why would you keep holding out?"

He set his jaw. "Sometimes the best way to protect something is by not protecting it at all."

"What does-" Optimus Prime began to growl, but Phage-One's cranium snapped to the side. Their features grimaced and smoothed over into a tired, but understanding countenance. Pandora Endurus said simply, "Sun Tsu and the Art of War. The more importance and protection you place on something, or someone, the more valuable it becomes. Ratchet's been balancing on a tightrope between protecting me without putting overt attention on me, otherwise it would draw suspicion."

"Exactly." Ratchet said softly.

"Well," Optimus Prime grumbled and glared, "the cyber cat is out the vent now."

"It doesn't have to be." Ratchet jumped to add, shaking his cranium in the negative. "Only the three of us know. It's for the best, I guess, but it has to stay-"

"Command already knows, Ratchet. They were informed the moment we arrived."

Micro aggressive expressions filtered across Ratchet's face as he processed the information. Quickly, a muscle spasm developed under his right optic. "Of course." He said bitterly. "Of course you would tell them, Prime. Did you spare a moment to think about her safety at all. The mechs around here are all bored cyber-hens. Look what 'Bee did today! Megatron is going to find out. And when he does-"

"He already knows."

The fight went right out of Ratchet. He stared at them, suddenly drained. And tired. And defeated. He sunk heavily into his chair and simply stared. Optimus carried on. "In the short time we were there, he found out. Ratchet. Old friend. I understand why you moved to protect her from harm. I do. But I am far from happy with the situation. I-We-are not happy at all. Terribly disappointed, in fact. Your hubris... astounds me. Your logic, reckless. What if Command had not sent an Extraction team? What if we had not retrieved Phage when the Seekers had kidnapped her from the Ark last year? Were you ever going to say something?"

"I almost did." Whispered Ratchet brokenly. "Many many times."

Before yet another tense, awkward silence could suffocate the room, the door to the small, private area slid open. Both Phage-One and Ratchet's attention jerked up to account for the intrusion and were greeted by Jazz, Prowl and Wheeljack as the three entered and immediately fanned across it to find adequate space. Upon entering, Jazz whistled and commented, "What's with the mood in here? It's so thick I could cut it with an energy sword."

The last fine thread of Ratchet's patience and sanity snapped at that exact moment. "What are you lot doing in here? Get out! Back rooms are for patient privacy!"

Jazz shot him a resolute grin. "Lil' Katt and I are practically amica endura."

"If it's not on your medical records I do not care." Sneered the doctor.

Shaking his cranium in disapproval, Prowl came to the rescue. "Come now, Ratchet. No need to be difficult. You know Jazz was Alicean's guardian for years. Even excluding that, Optimus Prime is at risk. Via chain of command, Jazz and I have the most right to be here."

"It's fine, Ratchet." Said Phage-One calmly.

He vented heavily, muttering darkly under his breath as he turned sharply in his seat and his digits took to flying across the keyboard. "What's the point of back rooms... Wheeljack!" Ratchet barked. "What are you even doing here? I asked you to extract Prime's spark from Sea Spray."

Wheeljack gave him a perplexed look. "Whoa...you okay, Sunshine? Spark extractions do not take long. And Prowl and Jazz asked I be here." He elaborated as he edged towards Ratchet and leaned over his shoulder strut to get a look at the monitor. "They want me to observe the operation. Prowl has seen how hard things have been recently and wants some of us to start pulling double functions."

Some tension eased out of Ratchet's frame. Genuine curiosity leaked into his tone. "You... want to double as a medic?"

"I thought I was doing a fair enough job."

"Well...Fine. Alright. Stay. Not that it seems I have a say anyways. -Phage, lay down so I can start."

"We can finish this discussion later, old friend."

Ratchet vented heavily and groused; "If you wish, Prime."

"Discuss what?" Asked Jazz, but Phage-One made a motion with their servo. A simple, quiet indication that Jazz knew to mean they would talk later. And so, he dropped the subject without complaint. But Phage-One and Ratchet stared longer at each other, a charged stare, then, gradually, Phage-One laid across the medberth. With a relieved energy and practiced motions, Ratchet finished setting up the terminal then moved across to them and extended out then up from the sides of the medberth a circular device that hovered inches above Phage-One's cranium. As he set it up, Ratchet droned on about the medical procedure in as much equal measure as he berated her; "Why are you making my life difficult, Phage? Why couldn't you have just stayed in the base where it was safe for you."

Safe, where Optimus Prime and I would have remained standoffish, thought Pandora Endurus. "All I did," she said in her calm, measured cadence, "was save Optimus Prime's life." Her fierce green optics never let up off of Ratchet as he worked.

The mech vented at her mention with a tired resignation. She noticed then, as she tried to catch his gaze, that he was deliberately avoiding her optics. "Prime would have been alright in the end. He always is. You, you..." Ratchet let it trail off, huffing and grumbling before saying; "-Now Optimus already knows this procedure, but you need to pay attention, Phage." He tapped the ring. "This device is going to scan your brain module. The process takes some time, so I need you to lay perfectly still while it is scanning. When it is finished, it will relay to me what damage the entanglement has caused."

"How?" Pandora asked simply.

"Hm? Simplistically speaking, personality weaves have their own unique energy signatures, if you will. All I need from you is to lie still while it scans. Can you do that?"

"Of course." They responded annoyed.

He nodded along. "Good. Good." And he pushed off and dropped into the swivel chair, spinning back around to the terminal in one fluid motion. "This will be about a breem or two."

"What are you looking at?" Wheeljack inquired as he leaned over the doctor.

Ratchet took a deep centering breath so he wouldn't explode. The idea of having to slow down and explain something at the moment just cranked up his nerves. After a moment, he began explaining tersely, "Basic entanglement scan. I need to see how far along their processes have meshed. Worst case scenario, if it has progressed too far along then there is no chance of a disentanglement and everyone is going to have to adjust to that."

"Best case?" Queried Prowl.

"Best case would be anything less than that." Snapped Ratchet. "I am very familiar with Prime's personality weave and can separate his out from a combiner conscious if I had too. Are you two listening?" Ratchet said suddenly at Phage-One. "This pertains to the both of you. Depending on the extent of the entanglement progression you could be looking at horrible side effects when I disentangle Optimus Prime from your CPU."

"Such as...?" Inquired Phage-One.

Ratchet shot them a deadpan glare. "Common side effects include ghost memories and habit recall. So, for instance Phage, you could suffer a waking memory of, say, Optimus Prime in combat or something of the like. Habit recall could be something as simple as a tick."

"Such as Optimus's finger twitch."

Ratchet paused for half a nanoklik to consider. Then said, "Yes. Exactly like that. Typically harmless and they should pass with rest and time."

"What about long term effects?" Phage-One asked quickly.

Ratchet glanced up from the monitor. "...Let's hope for the best. Don't give me that look, I'm not the one that extracted an entire mind while it was failing! ...Come to think of it, we would be extremely lucky if Optimus Prime's processes don't show signs of corruption."

Prowl and Jazz turned their attention sharply on Ratchet. Jazz quickly asked, "What do you mean?"

"What do you mean what do I mean? You know what I mean. Phage extracted Optimus Prime's consciousness while he was terminating. Furthermore, Megatron had delivered a series of severe hits to his cranium. If we're lucky, the brunt of the damage should have been absorbed by Prime's helmet. I've extracted bullets from it before after all. But without his actual cranium I can't determine the extent of the real damage to his brain module. So, we're about to find out how solid Prime's extraction was."

"He seems fine to me." Pandora Endurus cut in.

"That's great." Ratchet said flatly. "But does me no good. I need to see the actual code. We can't have even minor issues of corruption. It could worsen overtime."

Phage-One's optical ridges creased together. The Endurus asked; "What if there is signs of corruption? How do we help him?"

Every optic turned on her then. Despite Prime in her head, Phage-One felt small beneath their ancient, guarded optics. Wheeljack was the first to break the spell. He looked to Jazz and Prowl, and murmured, "We never told her, did we?"

Prowl shot him a stern glare, but Optimus Prime spoke through Phage-One then, and intoned solemnly, "None of the Witwicky's were informed."

Pandora took control back immediately. "Tell me what?"

:Optimus?:

But he was withdrawn. :I'm sorry, Pandora. This matter has to be discussed by Command.:

:It requires that level of clearance?:

:Not necessarily. It's just that...The Witwicky's and you are...outsiders.:

The label gave her pause. :The Witwicky's are honorary Autobot's.:

A great sigh rushed from Prime's avatar in the mindscape. :Cybertronians have a great many customs that are difficult to discuss. Some of our customs adopted over the course of the War are taboo topics among humans in philosophical discussion. We were uncertain how the Witwicky's would react if we told you everything at the start. So, it was decided it was simply easier not to tell you.:

:What could be so controversial?!:

Prowl's face hardened. He turned decisively to Jazz. "Considering the Prime is in her cranium and hasn't told her, we shouldn't either."

But a troubled expression ingrained on Wheeljack and Jazz's facial features. Jazz beat Wheeljack to the question bothering them both. "Doesn't Lil' Katt have one, Ratchet?"

The doctor stiffened. "No." He admitted. "Phage is not registered as an essential. She possesses no skill set or knowledge that we don't already surpass."

"Wow." Intoned Endurus with a deadpan edge. "Not essential? Nice to know."

"Oh shush you." Trolled Ratchet before adding as an afterthought, "Come to think of it, you never signed the consent forms."

"What forms!?"

"Exactly." Said Ratchet.

"What!"

The squabbling mechs missed Phage-One's affronted disposition.

"Damn it, Ratchet." Jazz hissed. "Nobody thought about this after her outliner ability sparked? The phasing damages the brain module."

"She was told not to phase." Ratchet shot back.

"Except she has been!"

"Don't blame this on me. I have the Autobot Second and Third in Command in my Medbay asking me why she wasn't told? Really? You know damn well why. This is an oversight on the Command's part that she wasn't flagged." Prowl and Jazz looked between each other then, at a loss for how to proceed.

Wheeljack spoke up then. "Is now the time to tell her? I thought it was agreed not to inform the Witwicky's due to human ideals?"

"What are you getting at?" Prowl asked.

"She's already been through a lot. What if this is the proverbial last blast before the building collapses?"

"Only you would make an explosive reference." Mumbled Ratchet.

"I can't decide if it's adorable how much you all care about my mental health, or if I should be affronted that you think I'm made of glass." Chimed in Pandora. "Whatever it is it cannot be as bad as you lot think it is."

"Really?" Challenged Jazz. "How about that time when you finally realized Cybertronians had alloy hues." Phage-One went deathly quiet and had the decency to blush. "You kept gaping at Trailbreaker, Prime and me before you ran off to find Sparkplug and Spike."

"Come now, Jazz! I was what, sixteen at the time?"

"How is that an excuse?" Jazz challenged. "How did you go so many years with us before you even realized?"

"Why would I make the correlation that autonomous biomechanical entities had skin tones! Especially when you use a black holoform when you're white? Way to confuse a poor girl."

"She has a point." Said Prowl.

"I heard about that one." Chortled Wheeljack, trying his best not to burst out into full bodied laughter. "Funniest slag I'd heard in awhile. Still hilarious as all Pitt. I wish I had been there for that."

"Oh it was funny." Jazz remarked. "Trailbreaker and I couldn't stop laughing."

"So what you're trying to imply is that this is going to shock me as badly as realizing you have skin tones?"

"Alloy hues."

She shot Jazz a deadpan expression. "You know what I mean."

"Don't move." Ratchet chided. "I'll have to start over if you do."

"Jazz?"

The mech in question inclined his cranium in Prowl's direction and they shared a knowing look before he turned back to Phage-One. "So, this may shock you worse than that time, I believe."

Phage chuckled. "Okay. So, what's the big hubbub?"

Jazz was opening his mouth to say, when Ratchet interjected. "You said you consider yourself to be her amica endura, Jazz?"

"Unofficially officially." He replied. At Ratchet's look, he added, "There was never a ceremony, but I consider Lil' Katt mine."

"Bold to announce it like that." Needled Wheeljack good-naturedly.

"Nobody here I don't trust." Countered Jazz.

"Hm." Said Ratchet. "Then, I can rely on you when she doesn't take the information well to help in her recovery?"

"Yes." Jazz replied immediately, his tone bordering on affronted. "Can't believe you have to ask. Who was the one there for her after the Insecticon Incident? Me. And did I not just drive head first into the Decepticon seabase to retrieve her?"

"Alright alright alright!" Ratchet said with a wave of his servo as if he could ward Jazz off that way. "If you think she can handle it go ahead. But it is my professional opinion that you wait till another time. She's not had any time to decompress."

A tense silence occupied the room then. The machinery hummed along as the scan progressed. Phage-One waited expectantly. Jazz made several false starts, but either stopped himself as he tried to find a right way to phrase it or stopped at minute glances from Prowl. As the moment stretched on, a small whisper pricked at their audios. "If your corrupted, will you be alright?" Fugitive glances jumped in Phage-One's direction. Silence came from the femme after, and it was immediately understood that Phage had been speaking to Optimus Prime and that she, unused to her situation, had accidentally spoken aloud without realizing it.

Jazz grimaced. Prowl shot him a warning look. From eons working side by side, an entire conversation passed between them without the need for any verbal or electronic communication. A decision was ultimately reached.

"So, Lil' Katt." Jazz announced loudly, his arms gesticulating animatedly. "I need you to not freak out on us and just wait till the end of my explanation. We have this thing."

"A thing." She echoed with a smirk. "If you say so."

"Great start." Scoffed Ratchet under his breath as Wheeljack chortled quietly.

"If this is hard to explain, why don't you try with the name and go from there?" Suggested Pandora Endurus in her soothing cadence.

"Now really isn't the time for this. You don't even know how to begin. It would be best," Prowl insisted in his calm, eloquent way, "if we discuss how best to break the news to her in detail then sit her down after. Then we can have the space to talk at length and answer questions, because there will be many. All that's important to know now is that Optimus Prime will be fine."

Jazz was opening his mouth to continue when Phage-One interrupted. "You do not have to explain it to me now, Jazz. Ratchet and Prowl are right. I have had a very long day. And, quite frankly, I do not have the emotional bandwidth right now. I couldn't care less if you're about to tell me that Ratchet has the skill to view Optimus Prime's entire personality weave in a computer and edit out data corruption. All I care to know is that Optimus Prime will be fine. And he has already assured me he will be whether or not corruption is discovered from the transfer. If it's really so important, you can explain it to me another time when we have a chance to sit down over a glass of energon and you've had time to come up with a proper explanation."

"A wise decision." Ratchet quipped. "Finally, someone listens to the good doctor. In the same code as long arduous days, I have to inform you about the disentanglement operation. It is going to take a number of cycles to complete. Three and upward depending on how far along Optimus Prime's mental processes have encroached on your own."

"Why so long?"

"It takes time to carefully pick apart two personality weaves. Then I'll have to perform the severance operation for the resonance right after." Ratchet vented noisily at this. "Unless one of the other 'Bots go critical. If that happens I'll have to give you a Block to dampen the sensory connection."

"Actually, Ratchet." Began Phage-One. "Phage and I have discussed the severance while we were enroute to the Ark. And we decided we do not want to undergo the severance operation for the resonance."

The little private room went oddly quiet. Craniums turned up and four sets of blue optics bored into Phage-One's prone form. Ratchet blinked. Then bopped his audio receptor with the flat of her servo. "Come again?" Ratchet asked at length.

Remaining perfectly still on the medberth for the sake of the scan, Phage-One repeated carefully. "We do not want the severance."

Ratchet's mouth popped open, hung there a moment, then closed again. The doctor swiveled in the chair to look up at an equally stunned Prowl, Jazz, and Wheeljack. "Everyone heard that, right?"

"Hm, yes." cracked Jazz with a smile twisting its way at the corner of his mouth. "I heard they did not want the severance."

"Why?" Asked a thoroughly confounded Prowl. "Being bonded is such a liability."

Phage-One's cheeks tinted a blue hue. Their mouth worked but failed to make a sound. The smirk on Jazz's mouth grew until it stretched across his face. "Is there something the two of you want to tell us?" Teased Jazz.

Optimus Prime took over then and spoke through Phage. "Yes. Severance's have an oft chance of destroying a spark's innate outliner ability. Am I not correct, Ratchet?"

As the wide smile dropped off Jazz's face in disappointment, so too did the doctor's shoulder struts droop with relief. "Ah. Well, yes. That happens sometimes. Every outliner spark is different. There is no telling how any change to the spark could upset the ability. Most changes would be benign but severance's do deal with scrambling a spark's frequency to cut off the bond. There have been cases of Cybertronian's loosing their outliner ability after the procedure."

Her servo twirled at her side in leu of a nod. "Phage's is too unique to afford losing. So, we both decided that we do not want the severance procedure, but we would like to opt for the Block."

If Jazz could look more deflated, he would have to be put out in a rainstorm and stuck in thick mud. Prowl and Ratchet on the other hand nodded along to the Prime's logical conclusion.

"If the two of you so wish." Ratchet said.

"We find it the best course."

"So be it. Easier on me. A Block is simple. Does the job of a severance without me having to take a scrambling tool to your sparks. Just, temporary. It works to dampen the sensory connection established so long as both of you have the Block installed. If, say, Phage were to remove her Block, her side of the resonance would be open. Does that compute?"

"Yes, Ratchet." Responded Phage-One, then Optimus said, "I know how Blocks work."

"The explanation is for Phage, not you." Snapped the doctor. "Now as I was saying before about the Disentanglement procedure before we got sidetracked here. Once that operation is over, Phage and Optimus Prime-"

"Phage-One." Interjected Jazz.

"You're really doing this?" Sighed Ratchet.

Jazz shrugged. "You know the rules. A promotion is a promotion."

Ratchet rolled his optics. "Once the Disentanglement operation is over, both Phage-One and Optimus Prime are going on medical leave. Yes, Prowl. Both. No stress at all. I am serious about this. Disentanglement procedures can trigger panic attacks, nervous breakdowns and mental breaks if the patients do not get proper rest. It is a lot on the processes to handle without outside forces adding to it."

"Yeah, yeah. Quiet time. Got it." Jazz waved off.

"I'm serious." Ratchet gruffed. "Phage-One and the Prime will be on medical leave until I clear them for active duty."

Phage-One pulled a face. When they spoke, their voice dipped into the lower octaves. "Ratchet," Optimus began, "there is a lot of critical matters I have to attend too. Passcodes need to be reset. Meetings-"

"No. No!" Snapped Ratchet, wagging a digit in their direction. "No work! The passcode resetting is fine. But no work, Prime! I'm serious! I'm forcing you on vacation."

"Vacation?"

"I know it's not in your vocabulary, but it's that thing that one does where they enjoy relaxing activities for extended periods of time. Sometimes alone, sometimes with others."

"Harrharr."

"If you think that's funny, wait till I tell you the length of leave."

Phage-One pulled a confounded look that could have only been Optimus Prime. "...a week?"

Ratchet's face scrunched up in disgust and glared at Phage-One. "An Earth month, possibly a quartex I am not satisfied with your bill of health."

Phage-one pulled a face then. "What am I suppose to do for a month?"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out. But so help me if I catch you doing work..."

"I'll keep an optic on them, Ratchet." Supplied Jazz. "I'll personally see Op off to a deserted island getaway if I have too."

"What would I do on a deserted island?" Objected Prime.

"I'm sure you'll think of something." Replied Jazz.

"Aha!" Exclaimed Ratchet. "Aaaand the results are in."

Wheeljack leaned forward to get a good look at the monitor before he pointed at he screen. "That's her brain module? What's with the color patterns?"

"Their personality weaves." Ratchet grit through his denta, irritated to be playing teacher when he was so overworked already.

"Which is which?"

"That one's Prime's." Ratchet exclaimed and pointed at the screen.

"How's it looking, Ratchet?" Asked Phage-One. "Can I sit up now?"

"Hm? Oh, yes. And not the best but better than I'd hoped. Optimus Prime's personality weave has been...um. Invasive."

Phage-One snorted. "Tell me about it."

Ratchet glanced her way. "Cranium aches? Olfactory bleeds?"

"I have had thee worse headaches I have ever experienced."

Ratchet nodded along as if he had expected all of that and then spun in the chair to address the room. "I need to do the operation now before it progresses further. Everyone is in stable condition, but if anything happens-"

Wheeljack put his servo on his shoulder strut then and interrupted to say, "Don't worry about everyone else. Everything is fine. I think I can handle a bit of nanny-bot duty."

Ratchet cast him a weary and dubious look. "You say that, but then the Twins will end up getting riled up. Then brawling. And then Cliffjumper will get involved and soon my Medbay will become a impromptu bar style free-for-all."

"Come on, Sunshine. When's the last time that happened?"

Ratchet's whole demeanor went dead. "Iacon. Before the Ark launch."

Wheeljack tried to wave it off. "Tensions were high." Ratchet just continued with his weary glare until Prowl interjected.

"Medbay will remain brawl free, Ratchet. I give my word. If the Twins ramp up Trailbreaker and I will see them personally off to the brig."

"Good enough." Sighed Ratchet. "I need everyone to clear out of here. I need the space and quiet to operate."

"I am staying." Ratchet glanced up at Jazz in mild surprise. "Bot's honor, I won't make a peep, except to play whatever mood music you need to get into the zone with. But someone in Command needs to oversee this. Optimus Prime is on the line."

Ratchet exhaled through his vents. "Fine. Everyone else out. Phage-"

"Phage-One." Interjected Jazz.

"Phage-One." Stressed Ratchet with a roll of his optics. "I actually need you to lie back down. I will be forcing you into recharge-"

"Recharge!?" Panicked Phage-One. :Oh god. I hope I don't suffer a nightmare mid operation!: "We have to do this with me under?"

One of Ratchet's optical ridges arched high. "Yeees." He drawled. "Unless you enjoy the sensation of having someone pick at your brain module and slowly extradite bits and pieces of it away. Which, I doubt." In the background, Jazz kept motioning to opt for the knockout. "I thought so."

"What about nightmares?"

Ratchet stared tiredly at her. "Are you still having problems with that? The pills I gave you weren't working?"

Phage-One blushed. "I...I haven't...taken them, actually."

At first, Ratchet was not but a stony countenance at the news, then he glared. "Why not?" And as she struggled to explain herself, Ratchet lost his patience. "Know what. Nevermind. I don't want to hear it. I'll grab you one before the procedure. I expect you to take it. Last thing I need is you having some episode on the medberth. Then I'm putting you under. When you online later, it'll just be you again, Phage. No Optimus Prime."

"Phage-One."

"I will kick your aft out personally if you don't knock that slag out." Barked Ratchet. "Pitt. You know what, just put on Cosmic Sympathy Number Five and be quiet."