Chapter 25: Every End is a Beginning

He hadn't even recognize me.

Sari sat there, her mask dropped and covering her face, making her seem like any average Cybertronian … well, despite, being extremely short. She looked like a sparkling and had been treated as such since she had been brought to Cybertron along with that thing, that shell, which was supposed to be her father.

Or at least what was left of him.

It didn't even recognize any of them. Not even her! It just stared seemingly dead except for the flicker of its optics.

She had screamed and yelled at Ratchet when he had checked on that metallic thing and not the flesh and bone form of her father first after Optimus had put all the fires out. She knew he had done the right thing. He had checked on the thing that twitched and moved and breathed and not the lifeless cold thing.

Yet, a part of her loathed Ratchet for it. She still hated that metallic thing even more though, but no matter how angry she was or how hard she cried the last two days, Ratchet surprisingly never got upset. He had spoken softly and rubbed her shoulder kindly and was oh so ever calm and patience. He had even sat with her until she had cried all the tears she could muster and then he had been the one to carry her through the space bridge when the not-father had become stable enough to move.

He had carried her like a child … and she despised him even more for it.

She knew that Ratchet was listening to probably her father's last request and treating her like the child she mentally was. A part of her wanted to shake her head at the thought. She was smart and yet … she had never quite grown up either. She still loved childlike things, refused to eat vegetables, collected stuffed toys and had never gained any interest in boys. Yes, she had grown a few centimeters taller and a little broader in the shoulders since the Autobots left Earth, but she knew not much had change about her. Truthfully, the universe really hadn't changed much in the last forty-eight hours even though her world seemed to be crushed.

And yet, she found herself sitting here, in an oversized chair in the waiting area, or at least the Cybertrionain equivalent of one. Soon after exiting the space bridge, the thing that was supposed to be her father was whisked away to the military hospital. Her Cybertronian, thought fair, was put to the test as Ratchet spoke quickly to the local medics and handed off what was left of her father, the limp thing that was not even twitching.

She had been placed in the waiting room with a piteous looking Optimus. Bumblebee and Bulkhead said they were coming. They had promised to come as quickly as possible, but were spread across the colonies with work, their lives still alive and prosperous … unlike hers. Even Optimus had left her halfway through. He had said the Magnus was calling a big meeting and promised he'd come back as soon as he was able.

And so she was left alone for what felt like a breath's time and an eternity all the same.

Soon, not-father had been stabilized, a collection of tubes and wires sticking out of him as if one wrong touch would break him. Soon after, a mech came over wanting documentation called Hardline and a femme from a Youngling Care Center or something. Whoever they were, Sari honestly didn't care. She just knew she didn't like the femme who had come out to greet Ratchet, asking her name and how old she was.

She had treated her like a child.

Sari had snapped at her for it to, some sarcastic comeback she did not remember word for word. Then again her knowledge of Cybertronian curses was rather weak so she wasn't sure it came out right at all.

Ratchet had merely frowned at her, but he hadn't acted like his old cantankerous self and instead ignored her outburst and murmured, "She's almost two vorns old, but very well developed. Humans, her surrogate caretakers on Earth, grow and live very short lives, usually a vorn, sometimes longer. Her mind adapted to their pace. She's not used to being treated like the young-bot she is. Please excuse her."

And the femme, Safe Guard, had frowned at first but then smiled, nodding to Sari and speaking in a far more formal tone, "Sorry about that … Sari? … I'll try to be more understanding."

Understanding? Understanding about what?! Her father just died and she was whisked away to live on a planet she had only been on once! Why did Ratchet even bring her here? True, he probably told her why she was here. Optimus probably had as well, but she just felt like she was ten again and just couldn't completely comprehend anything when it came to the adult world. What was wrong with her? She was over a hundred years old!

… And yet she didn't feel like it especially in this place.

She didn't know how it was possible, mech and humans were so different, and yet somehow hospitals still had the same smell.

Sari said nothing to the femme at first, her from was cold as she curled back into herself, back into the blanket that Optimus had insisted that she take. It was covered in atoms and test tube beakers and stars. Her father had loved it and at first she had hated it, but she found she loved it as much as him now.

"Yeah, sure, understanding," grumbled Sari in Cybertronian before she turned to Ratchet and asked softly in English, "Ratchet, can I go home now? I know that d-dad isn't there … but what am I even doing here? That thing can't be my dad. He doesn't recognize me, anyone. My father's dead. I need to go home and bury him and take care of the company and … and whatever else adults are supposed to do."

She tried to keep the sob out of her throat, but it was there nonetheless and she wished more than anything she could be in her own bed bawling her heart out. Not here. Not in this place surrounded by beings that would likely freak if she lifted her face mask. Instead, she buried her head in her hands, hating her weakness.

Hardline, whom had been typing away at his digi-pad stalled as well as the femme, Safe Guard. They both gave Ratchet a look, their words a half-understood garble by the Halfling.

"What did she say? Did we do something to upset her? Does she even speak Cybertronain?" asked the femme as she stepped forward and sat next to the small femme, her frown highly evident.

Sighing, hating that Optimus had gotten called away on something and that he had to deal with official mechs all alone, something he detested but was becoming frequently more regular since Earth, Ratchet crossed his arms over his chest and grumbled, "What do you think? She was raised on Earth. We downloaded and spoke the dominate language on Earth, so of course she is going to speak an Earth language. She knows some cybertronain, she probably understood half of what you just said. So don't treat her like a glitched kid, because she isn't."

Noting Ratchet's irritated flare, the femme sighed and nodded, "I understand, but you still haven't said what she said."

Grumbling, shifting on his feet while he lifted a gaze back towards Hardline, Ratchet grumbled in a tired tone, "She said … She said she wants to go back to Earth and bury the body of her surrogate caretaker. She then believes she should take up his stead and care for his practice which is normal for human adults."

For a moment even Hardline's fingers stopped typing, both of the beings looked flabbergast and almost offended, Safe Guard unsurprisingly beating the mech to the punchline.

"She isn't even two vorns old. She is a youngling. Legally, she cannot even care for herself. Why would you even allow a youngling, a sparkling in almost all accounts, to take care of herself?!" nearly yelled Safe Guard, her tone flustered and almost ground out. She was obviously offended.

Ratchet dimmed his optics, growling, "I never said yes to her request. In fact … her surrogate … understood that as well. He asked for Optimus Prime and I … to take care of her. That's why I asked the two of you here."

The femme and mech both perked up in a moment, comprehension evident, Hardline asking in a simple almost mechanical tone, "And do you have documentation for this? Her sire's last request? If so, it can be legally binding and she will not be placed even momentarily into the Youngling Care System."

Nodding slowly, Ratchet offered a wrist to the other, a jack being revealed to the stoic office mech. The mech was quick and efficient, plugging into the jack with his digi-pad, downloading the offered file. He viewed it for a moment, using his systems to check for authenticity. He saw no faults or falsities and the young femme already seemed comfortable with the aging mech, so he looked to Safe Guard and proclaimed, "It seems to be legitimate. In fact, there are multiple recordings throughout the last few orns with the … organic's … request to take care of Sari. Though it seems that the request is made to both you and Optimus Prime. Are you a bonded couple then and wish to adopt her together?"

Vents coughing, having never thought of the young bot that way, Ratchet quickly stated, "No, no. We are not … I … I will take responsibility for her and the little grey mech, her sibling. Though Optimus did volunteer to be her and her sibling's caretaker if something were to happen to me."

Nodding, typing away madly, legal documents being arranged through Autobot courts since Ratchet was an active military member and thus reaped all its benefits, "I see, I see. I'll start setting up all those documents for you. I'll even arrange a few orns to form a bond with the young femme and her sibling. But tell me, what is the mech's name. It hasn't been mention."

Ratchet frowned as he looked at Sari for a moment. The young femme was still balled up into herself, her back being rubbed by the larger femme. He hadn't yet told Sari about exactly what was happening with her legal status or her 'fathers'. She was a child no matter what she said. He personally agreed with her though that Sumdac's last creation was and yet was not her father. He wasn't quite sure honestly. Perhaps there was a change and there was none of the scientist still there. Perhaps he had merely offered ignition to a new spark, a new life. Perhaps it was best not to name the creation Sumdac if the name that was not meant for it.

He would not call the creation Sumdac.

And so, trying to think of this as a new beginning if there was even a trace of Sumdac in that silver shell, Ratchet murmured, "His name is Reboot. He … there was an accident in their caretaker's lab that claimed the life of their surrogate. I don't know if … if he will be able to deal with the trauma. If he will even remember his name. He might not be able to remember anything at all. Sari isn't dealing with it very well either. She feels responsible."

Nodding slowly, tilting his head sympathetically in the direction of Sumdac's last creation, Hardline nodded, "I understand though, if I may ask, could you send a report of the two's histories for their citizens' files. Yes, since you will be accepting a caretaker bond for both of them, they will automatically become full Cybertronain citizens. We still need some records for medical and the teaching centers though. Perhaps during the time off for your bonding sessions you can write something up for the record."

Ratchet, almost having forgotten the mandatory spark-bonding time with adoptions and that he would have to find a medic for that as well, merely nodded as he swallowed his half-truths. He didn't know how he was going to get around both of those issues, he didn't even know if Sari could form sparkling-caretaker bonds or Reboot for that matter, but perhaps he could ask some old friends like Red Alert or Wheeljack. They might have some ideas of how to tell the truth without exactly lying either. Personally, he and the old team could have cared less if Sari was half organic and that Reboot had been made from and organic . Unfortunately, that didn't mean the rest of the world felt that way.

She would never be able to live a normal life on Cybertron if anyone knew. Maybe one day, but not anytime soon.

"I'll see what I can do," finally answered Ratchet, giving a tired look to the small femme, suddenly feeling older than usual. "Can I take her home now or is there some paperwork to fill out?"

Safe Guard, a representative of the Youngling Caretaker's Centers would have usually demanded that all the paperwork be filed before a youngling was taken into a caretaker's care, but merely nodded when she looked at the aging mech's tired form.

"You can fill out some digi-pads tomorrow. It's been a hard cycle for you and the youngling. You were on Optimus' Primes team after all and are an upstanding citizen. You may take her. Reboot, of course, will remain here," said the femme kindly, her next words soft. "We'll keep an eye on him until he … recovers."

If he recovered was personally Ratchet's own thoughts. The body was experimental. The spark was created from the last sparks of a dead key. There was no way it should have worked … and yet he was there, unresponsive, but with a sparkbeat nonetheless.

Nodding tiredly, he offered a hand to Sari and after a few moments of sniffling she allowed him to pick her up, the old bot holding her close to his chassis. He held her like she was a sparkling, a youngling, listening to his spark murmur on.

Be it luck or Primus' blessing, the young femme fell asleep on the way home, Ratchet tucking her onto his couch without the need of an explanation … yet.

Standing over the small femme, feeling tired and old and worn and sad for the human's passing. And yet he found for the first time in a long time he was content. With the war he had never dwelt on having someone, someone to take care of, even if she was half organic. He had quietly always thought young bots a burden. Now … now he did not feel that way. Sari would never be a burden and neither Reboot.

For the first time in a long time, Ratchet had someone to truly care about, to truly call his own. Leaning down, he pressed his helm against the femme's helm in an old shown of parental affection and decided that though it might be hard at first, Sari would be the daughter he always wanted.

…

Ultra Magnus walked smoothly and quietly down the halls of command, his optics on a digi-pad in his hands. It was a report from Sentinel about what one of his operatives had discovered in Megatron's territory. Yes, Megatron's territory. As much as he hated to admit it, the Decepticon's didn't disband when the warlord fell. If anything, they gathered together and became more encompassed in their beliefs that the Autobots had wrong them and their ancestors. Breaking down their walls and colonies was going to be a long rung out assignment.

Venting at the news, the Magnus stepped into an elevator, heading to communications to see if the ex-Prime was still around. He knew that Sentinel would come and go from the office to get his work done. He would sometimes be there late at night to catch up at his work at ungodly hours. His schedule was unpredictable and so unlike his old self.

He frowned deeply, something pulling at this spark as he dwelt on his old second in command: Sentinel Minor.

Ultra Magnus would admit that he had found the blue mech irritating on occasion, but he was young, he would learn. He was a good bot, but something had happened.

He wasn't sure what had. He had been asleep to the world, hanging on by a thread like a fly dangling from a spider's web, and when he awoke he had only saw chaos. He had seen an abuse of power and youthful foolishness. He had seen even more when the young mech had taken on a sparkling-like tantrum and then wandered off without a word … only to return, broken.

He remembered that very well; the day Sentinel returned from his disappearance. He had always seen Sentinel as sturdy, but when Rodimus Prime had brought the ex-Prime out in a hover-chair, Magnus more than willing threw another demotion out the window. His glossa had stalled. Sentinel was different. Yes, there were now weld marks crossed to and fro on his from like many cracks in glass, but the other seemed broken in a different way. He seemed tired and exhausted and silent.

Sentinel had never been silent.

And that was why nothing really ever came to pass during the other's silent absence. Yes, there was no doubt in his mind that Docker's medics hadn't thought to call Cybertron, they weren't on the best of terms, but why had Sentinel taken a plain paint job to begin with or disappeared from his prearrange flight?

And then there was Optimus' report about something that happened in a sewer system on Earth. The mech had mentioned it at his side, but said a full report had never been written which was so unlike his ex-Second. Sentinel had been exceptional with filing and report making, he still showed that to this very day, but his report on the matter when it had shown up was incomplete. It was little more than a paragraph the date, time and location with the parties involved.

Despite himself, knowing he had more pressing issues as the Magnus of Cybertron, he dwelt on the small entry, word for word memorized as his CPU unknowing dwelled on it whenever the Communication's Officer would sit at the back of the room or polite decline Senators' invitations and frown actively. In the past he would have smiled and pressed out his chin.

He knew it all had to do with the file. It had to. Even right now he dwelt on the simple description in the file report:

Upon looking for the Decepticon spy, designation Wasp, in the city of Detroit on the planet Earth, the third planet from the star in the X-C392 System, we were engaged by a mech calling himself Soundwave. Please refer to Optimus' Primes' report DR-2322-ONT-20935 for full background. With the use of sonic weaponry he was able to overcome myself and then Optimus Prime. Upon waking, Soundwave announced the want to reconfigure his form by stealing design schematics and materials from us. He had used unusual torture methods to try and incur that information. Only when Optimus' mental device, attached and activate upon the moment of awaking in Soundwave's subterranean lair, shorted out was I offered a moment in refute to attack the perpetrator. Soundwave did not survive the encounter.

That was it: unusual torture.

The weak file had been happened upon during the search of the missing Prime while looking for clues of his status. It had been filed away as if it were unimportant and insignificant, approved by himself during his time as Magnus and left to be forgotten.

Ultra Magnus was not stupid. He was busy, but not stupid. Something had happened to the ex-Prime, something that pressed him down a destructive path. And Magnus, he had been waiting, patiently as was his nature, for the blue mech to come to him and confess his hardships. He knew that the young mech looked up to him, idolized him … but the blue mech said nothing. He just grew more and more distant. He hadn't even thrown one of his famous fits in ages. True, Sentinel had never thrown one in front of the Magnus himself, but he knew they occurred.

If anything, the young mech just seemed far more tired with every gathered orn, his once battle ready reflexes never seemed to quite return even as his scars faded way. He seemed … burdened. There was no better word for it. It was like he was slowly cracking under some great weight.

What it was, he had his suspicions. Some mechs didn't fare well with torture. He knew it was cruel of him to think so, but perhaps it was for the best that Sentinel had not become the next Magnus. He would have cracked, sooner or later under the pressure. Optimus though, he was a mech that he had hopes for. Yes, he did not have the military prowess or the political charm that had clung to Sentinel like a second coat of wax, but he had the potential to be a fair and strong leader; someone who would make hard and reasonable choices; someone that the people could look up to in times of need and hardship.

Optimus Prime was promised great things.

Dwelling on his new Second for a moment, Ultra Magnus had almost, almost, missed it … a clink behind him.

Stalling, his hand tightening on the digi-pad in hand, the large mech tilted his head somewhat, trying to see out of the corner of his optic. Behind him was a half-dark hall, silent except for the hum of his own vents and a clicking. A soft clicking like a thousand little fingers tapping against glass, almost like rain.

Shifting his head slightly, he realized that it was coming from an evidence storage room, the door ever so slightly ajar down the seam in the middle as if someone had forced it open with their bare servos, the room dark except for a faint light.

Reaching for a blaster in his subspace while subspacing his digi-pad, knowing his hammer was too big for an enclosed battle, he slowly made his way over to the room. He had his gun high, drawing ever nearer to the door, and just when he was about to make his way to the door, the floor creaked.

The clicking stopped, a low growl suddenly coming from the room and before Magnus could even catch sight of the perpetrator, something knocked into his chest, sending him into the further wall. Optics stuttering off line from the impact, his gun thrust out of his hand, the Magnus didn't even get to see the intruder's model type or anything … all he saw was a shadow fleeing around the corner.

Sitting there a moment, looking down both halls, part of him wondering why the perpetrator hadn't struck out when he had been down, the Magnus stopped looking for the mech or femme because they were obviously gone as quickly as they came.

Instead, his optics traveled to the door, now trying to close but unable to, stuck open because there was something in the door. It was the light from earlier, the only light in the room. It was alone digi-pad, its screen alight, flashing simply and showing some unknown guilt: deletion complete.

Ultra Magnus, reaching forward, frowned as he picked up the file, a recent horror overcoming him … they had another spy amongst their ranks, a saboteur.

...

Elsewhere, far from a now sleeping Sari and Ratchet and a frowning Magnus, Breakdown polished the last of his tools. The lights were all dim, the nearest thing to a night having settled over the world and yet the mech found he could not rest, could not even beg for recharge to settle into his frame. He could see it … see … could still see … Knock Out.

He offlined his optics for a moment, pulling his plates close in discomfort, his hands shaking.

It hadn't been real. He hadn't seen anything. He just needed to watch over Sentinel tonight, keep him in the clinic until he thought he was good enough to even attempt transforming after giving two donations, and then … he would get over it. He would get over the momentary lapse. He would get over the pain in his spark and the aching loneliness that had caused that delusion.

Knock Out was beyond his reach now.

He was locked away, in a cage, is paint probably dulling, not a lick of wax in sight, his wit likely silenced with an electric gag … it was … he was … his spark hurt. Seeing that delusion, that ghost, that-that thing: death would have been easier then remembering Knock Out's shape and curves and long elegant fingers and -

"Don't let him bother you … if you let him take hold, he'll try to kill you," came a voice in the gloom, a child's voice, young and blossoming like a flower that only opened its petals at night.

Breakout dropped his polishing rag, Knock Out's polishing rag, as he turned his head and stared at a small dwarfed form in the doorway. He quickly placed one hand on his knee and the other on top of his work desk, his hands still shaking slightly. It was merely Echo, his optics dim and sleepy. Breakdown had put him down to recharge in one of the spare rooms, telling him that his creator needed rest and that he would have to spend the night.

Echo had merely nodded, Breakdown picking him up and putting him to recharge. It had been … a warm feeling. It had pressed off the loneliness if only for a lingering moment. Sparklings were a treasure.

He had wanted one. He really had. If only he could have convinced … his other half.

Swallowing, finally gathering his voice, he murmured, "Let what bother me, young-spark? You must have had a bad recharge. Nothing is killing anyone."

He rose to his feet, ready to put the youngling back to bed, when Echo spoke again, in a tone he likely had never used in front of his creator, scared and small … and knowing.

"It … does, the shadow. It told me. It told me it takes anyone with a broken spark … and makes them do horrible things to themselves."

Echo's next words were choked, obviously held in for a while now, "He said … He said he almost got my creator. H-he said he almost had me too. He said I almost wasn't born …"

Staling, hating the fearful look in the young mech's optics, Breakdown covered the distance in a few quick strides, picking up the young mech before the first click even escaped his vocalizer, his words soft as he placed Echo's little head on his shoulder plate, "Shush, shush there little mech. No need for tears. It's just a nightmare. Something caused by bad energon. Nothing tried to hurt your creator … or you."

Breakdown, despite himself, found that the youngling's words had haunted him like they were a deep truth. So, instead of taking the whimpering youth to the spare bed, he took the youth to his own. He allowed the youngling to fall asleep to his spark beat as was normal for caretakers and younglings … though he did not recharge a wink, optics watching the shadows.

XXX

Paw07: Yep, Sari is now thrown full play into the tale. Everyone's story converges at one point in one way or the other. As for Sari, sorry if she seems OC. You have to realize she is just going through a major trauma and is angry at her father more so than Ratchet or anyone else. She is still, mentally, a child after all. As for Echo … he knows more than he's willing to tell and has his own secrets, just like is creator. Plus, I finally gave a little impute of how Ultra Magnus feels about Sentinel something someone asked about once.