Time Scale: Nano-click: second ; Cycle: Minute ; Groon: an hour ; Mega-cycle: days ; Orn: 13 days ; Steller Cycle: year ; Vorn: 83 years.

= Comm Link =

:: Bond Speak ::

Chapter 33: An Agreement

Breakdown watched the copper metals swirl with the silver metal additives, little crystal bits glimmering like stars. It was like a galaxy in a cube. Watching for a moment, the crystal bits sinking and dying away like fading starlight, he added a few drops of white powder that spread over the mixture like a light frost. Watching the cube turn gel-like, he sighed.

He really didn't need to make these mixed cubes right now, but it helped him calm down. He didn't know why. Maybe it was a way to fool his body into thinking that Knock Out was around and would be asking for these cubes any moment. That was how it started, Breakdown assisting in the medical bay. He usually just dragged Cons half dead in, applying basic first aid on the field. One time, he had been dropping off a brute when the red medic had asked if he had the mental capacity to measure anything, the medical bay packed with the dead and the dying. Confused, he had merely said, 'Yes.' He knew his measurements.

'Well, handsome … let's see if you measure up.'

He honestly didn't know if he had been asked out or blackmailed into measure medical cubes because no one wanted to stay behind and do menial tasks like assist in the medical bay. But, somehow, the red medic almost always accosted him afterwards whenever he dropped anyone off. He might have stopped going into the med bay all together if he didn't like the way Knock Out flirted with him and how he oh so accidently rubbed up against his rear end from time to time. He got very good at mixing cubes just to stick around. He then became good at fixing medical equipment and so forth and so on until they ended up on a medical berth together, mouths and interface equipment intermingled as they panted each other's names. After that, there was no going back. One helping the other to their feet be it a hard day welding on new limbs to needing a new limb welded on after a bad battle.

They had belonged together.

And then they were ripped apart at the end of the war. He hadn't been there that mega-cycle when the Auto-Troopers came. He should have been there … He hated himself for not fighting for Knock Out when they came to take him to the stockades. Now, they'd forever be apart.

Resisting the urge to crush the cube in his hands, Breakdown immediately blamed Ratchet for this. He hadn't thought of his lost love in ages but opening his chassis and overloading him last night was dragging him back into realty with painful clarity. Now, he remembered that he would never get to rejoin with the other part of his spark. Part of him just wanted to open his chassis and crush his own spark and be done with - stop!

Stop! Stop that train of thought right now!

Breakdown immediately covered his face with his hands and invented, allowing his struts of sag onto the stool he was sitting on.

Frag, frag, frag. This is why he tried not to dwell on Knock Out. Such strained bonds can cause depression and suicidal thoughts. Frag him! Frag him! Frag him!

"Breakdown, are you alright?" finally came a voice through the din, jolting Breakdown out of his mental montage, the crafted medic sitting up straight.

Ratchet was standing over him, looking very concerned. He said he wouldn't be back until later today leaving the Sentinel fallout to him. Fragger. Why was he back so soon anyway? Slag. Was that really the time? Had his medical programming caused him to go into a loop because of the suicidal thoughts? Yes. Yes, it had. Really, two groons wasted on a loop because his medical program couldn't find a line of code to delete? Its's not like a bond can be deleted like a normal thought. Ugh, this mega-cycle was turning out to be horrible. You would think after a night of post-overload haze he'd be on cloud nine. Nope, certainly not. He was miserable. He felt like his drink had been drugged last night-cycle and now he was waking up in a ditch.

"I'm fine … considering the fallout you left me to deal with," snapped Breakdown, harsher than he meant to. "What did you say to him? I've never seen Sentinel so emotionally detached. He acted like he was in shock this morning. I couldn't let him drive home like that, especially not with Echo as a passenger. I had to give him a sedative just to keep him here. Frag, what did you say? Last night he acted like he was running away, but now he just … gave up. He wanted to go back to his housing unit and act like last night didn't happen. Just what did you say? He trusted me and I feel like I just threw him to the cyber-wolves!"

Sighing, pulling up another stool that was red and looked like it hadn't been sat on in vorns given its pristine condition, Ratchet put both of his hands palms up. Breakdown knew what the action met, but he didn't move to meet his Unit Head. Ugh, that title was going to leave a bitter after tasste for a while. He also wanted some answers first before the older medic went riffling around in his programing.

"Well?" he added when Ratchet gave him an irritated look for not offering his hands and med-ports over. "My patient is in the room over with enough sedatives to keep him down for a mega-cycle and Echo, thank Primus, merely thinks his carrier is napping. He's currently curled up next to Sentinel trying to be as quiet as possible so he doesn't wake him up. So, what the frag did you say?"

Sighing, making a mental note to check on Echo after this, Ratchet admitted, "I told him a hard truth that he needed to hear. We had a discussion about the sire and that Echo's health comes first and foremost. If you want all the details, you will have to speak with him."

Breakdown continued to glare before finishing his mixture and sealing it. It was for Sentinel and his pain management. Ratchet had already added a list of medications to the Prime's medical charts and though he wasn't happy about it, the crafted medic had nothing better to do. "A useless endeavor … he probably trusts me as far as he can throw me now because of you and your meddling."

Looking at his hands for a moment, Ratchet admitted, "I said what I thought was right. Echo comes first. Now, given you look like slag warmed over, give me your wrists. I need to take a look at your medical programming before my own goes into a tizzy. Its adamant that something is wrong with yours and it isn't going to let me rest as your Unit Head until I take a look."

Sighing, for his own medical programing would go into a tizzy if he denied his Unit Head a klick more, the blue mech gave his wrists to the other medic and opened the medical ports. He almost twitched when Ratchet fingered them both, checking them for wear and tear. Yes, he knew they needed to be updated, like his medical programs. They were well used. What can he say? Offlining and replacing battle programs in patients took a lot of work.

"Do these hurt?" was the first thing Ratchet said.

"No, they are numb. I know they need to be replaced, but coming across illegal ones isn't exactly easy," groused Breakdown already knowing that the next few groons were going to be the pit. He never really had a Medic Head, unless you counted Knock Out, but he had seen how Hook had acted when he got a new recruit. Poor Ambulon had been poked, prodded and dare he say mother-henned over. Well, as much as a Con can mother hen that is. He didn't even want to know how bad an Autobot Unit Head was going to be. Ugh, his insides felt squirmy already.

Thankfully, Ratchet said nothing but he could almost hear the older medic making a list in his head. He then plugged in, pressing into Breakdown's programming like a wave coming into shore and water logging the sand. Breakdown's whole body suddenly felt heavy as his medical program rose to meet Ratchet's. He didn't even bother to look at the Autobot's disapproving frown.

"It's painfully outdated … not to mention illegally uploaded. Where did you even get this programming?"

"Off a dead mech towards the end of the war," added Breakdown, half surprised that Ratchet hadn't immediately pulled away in disgust. "What? I didn't kill him and he wasn't going to use it anymore."

Ratchet merely frowned, his programming pushing against the outdated and now deeply ingrained medical programming, offering updates that Breakdown was starving for. "I suppose I'm not too surprised. I kind of suspected it honestly given the near breakdown you had yester-cycle and the loop I walked in on."

Breakdown twitched. Ugh, he noticed that.

"Yes, I noticed that," grumped the older mech. "My medical programing won't calm down until its fully assesses you … given I'm now the Unit Head. Which, since we are sitting here, I wanted to apologize for that. I know this is your clinic, Butcher, but we need each other. I need to take care of Sari and Reboot while you need updated programs and a new license for the clinic. So, here's my offer. You write up the fake bonding docs and initial medical exam for Sari and Reboot. I, in turn, help make this clinic a little more legal so you don't get your aft arrested."

His head feeling fuzzy as his medical program basically devoured the new information it was getting while Ratchet pressed into his personal firewalls and started looking for smart-viruses, Breakdown somehow managed to ask, "And how are you going to do that? My medical programming is as illegal as slag and the only reason my clinic is still open is because mechs owe me favors."

Sighing, having already made some calls this morning when he went home to find Sari and her sitters snuggled up in front of the holo-vison like junk-food binge zombies, Ratchet admitted, "I'm applying for a new license for the clinic. I am going to be the Unit Head and I'll say the old Unit Head retired after filling out Sari's forms. I'm also taking on an apprentice who will need medical codes which will get rid of that illegal programming of yours."

Catching on immediately, Breakdown shook his helm, "Oh, no. No, no. I have Con coding. They won't let me near Iacon medical schools. I'll be in the stockades in a klick … and so will you."

Ratchet rolled his optics, a habit he picked up on Earth he would sadly admit. "I'm not enrolling you into Iacon. I said apprentice in the traditional sense, which means I think you are skilled enough to skip over all that drama. Besides, all the teachers there are fraggers. Stick up their afts as the humans say."

Breakdown, for a moment, looked surprised before he actually laughed. Here he thought Ratchet was a traditional bot that followed organizations like the medical board blindly. Nope. Seemed he got somewhat of a rebel and maybe a Con sympathizer … even if Ratchet hadn't yet admitted it. For goodness sake, he was technically hiding Cons on Cybertron. Maybe this partnership wasn't going to be completely horrible.

"Alright, pick a berth so I can do a physical," added Ratchet as he unplugged from Breakdown's systems, having stuffed a ton of downloads into his system for unpacking.

Then again, he could be wrong. Ratchet was a sadist. Had to be.

"You're kidding, right? I already feel like slag this morning?" groused Breakdown, part of him surprised Ratchet hadn't mentioned concern about a smart virus on the scan. True, it was a quick scan, but still … if it wasn't a virus that caused him to see corpse-Knock Out, what had?

"We should just get this over with so my medical programing can calm the slag down. Its giving this old medic a helm-ache," said Ratchet as he spooled his medical jacks back up and offered a hand to Breakdown.

Breakdown merely glared at him.

"Come on, young bot. Stop acting like a sparkling. I don't need you passing out or resetting on me. You shouldn't have been up at all given the spark-flux donations you gave yester-cycle anyway," added Ratchet with his hand still offered. "When your medical programs start unpacking what I uploaded, they are going to hit you like a truck. Come on. It's less embarrassing to shuffle across the floor than be carried. And I don't think my back can carry your aft even with my reinforced joints."

EM field almost pouting, Breakdown got to his feet and immediately regretted it. His helm was swimming as his medical programming started shuffling through updates like a kid in a candy store. He barely noticed that he had been half dragged to the berth until he realized he was was lying down, Ratchet throwing scans over him as he started prying at plating and poking his joints.

"Unnh," groaned Breakdown, time starting to slip from him as his HUB got littered with update alerts. "Did you throw a digital sedative in there? Frag, my helm."

"That's how it is kid when you don't update such a vital program for eons. It hurts like a bitch as humans would say. So, don't puke on me," groused Ratchet. "Now, let's see what we have. Your plating looks healthy and well cared for. Your joints could use a little work. Nothing important right now. And, let's have a look at that eye socket. I don't want to be the barer of bad news, but that will have to be replaced. If you go in to take a medical exam, the professor will send you packing to the nearest medical room and then they might see your war model programing."

Breakdown twitched, ready to argue about the other medic's missing chevron but Ratchet was already carefully touching the plating over his missing optic, hands surprisingly reassuring as he ran a finger over Breakdown's chevron and down his cheek. It was kind of intimate and slightly unnerving, but this wasn't a Con he was dealing with, it was a mushy Autobot. It was a cultural thing he still had trouble adapting too even after all this time pretending to be a normal Autobot civilian. Ugh, he hoped it didn't rub off on him.

Nonetheless, klicks later, Breakdown's fingers twitched every time a screw as removed from the plate over his optic. The small comfort he had felt was gone as hatred bubbled in his tank. Fragger could have done all the physical exams first, but now he understood that Ratchet did the updates first to disorient him. He must have known that Breakdown would have normally put a fight up over the optic. Fragger.

Unable to gather the mental capacity to put forth an argument to keep the optic plating, Breakdown merely set his jaw and gritted his denta. This was a long time coming. He knew it. It was just … Knock Out was supposed to fix him up. Knock Out had always been the one to put him back together. Always.

"Hmm, its completely gutted but at least it was cleaned up nicely. The whole thing needs to be rebuilt. It's going to be a custom job given your heavily modified model. So, it might take an orn or two," said Ratchet as he ran a finger over bare circuits, scanner echoing over the empty optic hole. Then, after what felt like forever, Ratchet stopped poking and prying, covering the empty socket back up.

"Okay, one last thing. Let's check that valve and spike. Given the status of your spark, I doubt it's gotten a proper check in ages," said Ratchet as he moved away from Breakdown's helm and two his peds.

Beside himself, Breakdown chuckled darkly, "Just trying to get back under my cod piece, huh? Didn't get a good enough look last night when you cleaned me up?"

Huffing, Ratchet groused. "I had Sentinel to take care of. I didn't have time to check you there, which you just as wells pop your chassis now as well. I want to check your spark to see how it settled after last night."

Finding the controls easier this time, Breakdown did pop his chassis and slid down the berth, spreading his legs while Ratchet placed his hands on each knee. His medical programs wouldn't have let him say no anyway. They were now calculating all the last times since his exams and what to report to his new Unit Head. He'd rather just get this over with so the older medic wouldn't have to know those dates. His cod piece popped off with ease.

Trying to be wittier than he felt, Breakdown jested as Ratchet lubed his hands and the tools he selected. "Want me to check your valve next? Make sure it's not full of dust and techno-moths or anything?"

Ratchet huffed though he did slightly chuckle. "Tuh. After we came back from Earth we were treated like we were infected or traumatized from being on an organic planet for so long. I had so many pairs of hands in all my components I lost count what parts were cleaned or updated. My valve was not spared. It was the most action I've gotten in probably ten vorns"

Beside himself, the blue medic laughed, nearly coming off the berth a klick later when he felt those fingers started their exam. Twitching in discomfort, Breakdown groused, "A little more warning would have been appreciated."

Huffing, settling between those thick blue thighs, Ratchet was silent for a few moments as he scanned and examined Breakdown's equipment. "Looks good … though underused. You should give it a little attention once in a while, Breakdown, and that plug looks old. I can order one for your size. Though … I doubt that you will be sexually active any time soon."

Breakdown huffed as if in agreement.

"Alright, now let's see that spark," said Ratchet coming up to his side, opening the chassis the rest of the way. Blue light with touches of yellow rained over the medic's polished armor almost immediately. For a moment there was silence, Ratchet sighing as he ran his first visual scan. "It looks like I barely touched it yester-cycle. It's just so dense. For now, I think the best thing to do is for you to masturbate more than once an orn. Once a mega-cycle I would say. We can also get a few spark-flux donations to take the stress off of Sentinel. But, honestly, we need you to bond with your Conjunx Endura."

Breakdown tried not to be bitter, but it carried in his tone. "Well, let me just get up and break right into the stockades. I'll frag him good and hard just because you said so."

Shaking his helm, leaving the chassis open as he headed to the medical cabinets to get some energon or something to relax Breakdown, Ratchet spoke over his shoulder, "I was actually thinking about that as well, Breakdown. Given I will have an apprentice, I might be able to weasel a way into the stockade's medical bay. After all, my apprentice can get hands on experience with the inmates. I can't free your endure, but I might be able to get a few klicks of privacy for you to bond."

Beside himself, Breakdown was sitting up, EM field filled with hope. "Are you serious? Really … I … can see him."

"You'll be doing much more than that if I can get you two alone for a few klicks," said Ratchet as he looked at the cabinet full of premixed energon. He would be the first to admit he was envious. These mixes were prime quality. He could tell just by looking at them. Any Unit Head would kill to have a mech under him with those skills. The way Breakdown mixed powdered metals and fluids was an art form.

"You really do an exceptional job with medical cube mixes, Breakdown," said Ratchet as he picked a cube and gave it to the crafted-medic, helping him hold it as his hands shook. Frag, that medical update was doing a number on him. "Now, drink up and then rest. Give your spark and updated programing some time to relax and settle. And let's hope this is a beneficial arrangement for us both."

With that Ratchet watched Breakdown shakily drink the cube. Here was to their new futures … May it not explode in either of their faces.

…

"So, you're not dead and yet you are somehow a ghost? That just makes no sense. Are you deactivated or are you not?" said Drift, completely confused as he leaned away from the warehouse wall he was hiding next to, peeking around some crates and out into the streets of Docker City again. He quickly pulled back when a few members of the city guard marched by obviously looking for something. There was no question what they were looking for or who if you were going to be accurate about it. It was his own fault, Drift supposed. He was technically an escaped mental patient and youngling after all. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed his disappearance. He had planned to be gone before the discovery, but it turned out ships traveling to Cybertron directly were rare given there wasn't an actual trade agreement with their origin planet.

When Prowl didn't offer a rebut, Drift sighed and stared out at the street some more. It didn't take long before he noticed the Captain of the City Guard, a rotary, stall in the middle of the road only to be surrounded by other Docker City Defensive guards, the equivalent of the city's policy and basic military force. Beside himself, Drift meeped and pulled back into the shadows as far as he could when one of the mechs glanced in his direction. After a few klicks of nobody coming to fetch him, the young mech dared look around the corner again. The Captain of the Guard looked like a desperate mech. It was kind of unnerving how hard they were looking for him actually. Younglings ran away from home all the time in the Lost Colonies and the Cons never put up this much of a fuss looking for said runaways. Then again, New Kaon and the Lost Colonies had the DJD, so if a youngling really needed to be found … Well, you did not want to be fetched by them, to say the least. A spanking was the least of your worries.

Hankering down for a long wait, Drift tried to ignore Prowl's wispy presence as he tried to think. He just didn't get it. Why was the city guard in such a tizzy over him? Maybe it was a cultural thing. Either way, there was no way he was going to be able to sneak onto a ship with them acting this way.

"Sorry, Trimmer. We still haven't found anything on the escaped youngling. Not even in the Red Crystals Districts. He could be anywhere," said one guard as he addressed the copter, the enforcer's voice echoing to Drift's hiding place.

Trimmer's rotary blades twitched in worry as he nodded, "We need to find him. He is very unstable. Apparently, he tried to gorge out his own optics recently. He needs to be found … preferably before Dreadwing and Skyquake get here."

Drifted twitched at that, pulling his plating close. Oh. Well, that explained a lot. His sire was coming. Frag. He didn't blame the poor city guards for being almost frantic. Ever since Megatron had been captured, Starscream deactivated, and Strika in an emotional upheaval since her endura was all but ripped from her … there had been a scramble for new leadership. The Decepticon masses weren't tearing at each other yet, but only because of mechs like his sire. After all, they had helped keep order while Megatron looked for the Allspark. Also, because Starscream's death was actually official now, his Sire was likely the new wing lord.

Frag. What was he going to do? He felt helpless. He couldn't even use practice swords right. How could be the Bridge? Whatever the frag that meant.

Looking to Prowl, optics staring to feel wet even though he told himself he wasn't a sparkling anymore and shouldn't be crying, Drift choked, "My sire is coming … and there are no ships heading to Cybertron. They'll find me in an instant. Maybe … Maybe you are wrong. Maybe I'm not this Bridge you need."

Prowl, moving like a breeze had hit him since he looked like little more than moving petals, pointed to two other mechs heading his way as the city guard dispersed to continue their search. They were two large fliers, shuttle-formers likely, alike in build except for one wore a visor. They were obviously twins and they were in a panicked hurry.

Drift looked back at Prowl in inquiry, but Prowl just kept pointing. Sighing in defeat for Prowl's cryptic silence, Drift crawled up the storage containers next to him and onto the roof of the warehouse. He tried to keep his helm low and he drew nearer to the two big mechs. Despite himself, all he could think of was sire's brother. Skyquake would have been ecstatic to find two large twin models, fliers no less. He had been trying to get his sire to go on a double date with him for vorns. Originally, it had been so Deadlock could get another spark to support him, but in the end, Skyquake merely bonded with his twin more often to make up for the stress. That still didn't mean that Skyquake wasn't looking for a double date. He wanted to be a sire someday as well.

Shaking off the thought because he did not need to think of his sire's brother in that way, gross, Drift drew closer and closer until he was on top of the warehouse above the twins.

"I don't think we should be rash. We can't go all the way to Cybertron over a cryptic message from Rift Ring - I mean Sentinel. You know he's prone to panic when it concerns little Echo. Let's at least wait for Sonic Trip to contact us back. She's at least on the same planet. It will take orns to get there. What if it's nothing," said the large shuttle with the visor.

Stalling in front of a warehouse, a small class space ship likely inside given the type of warehouse it was, the other mech bit back, "And what if it isn't nothing, Aquila? His message said that Echo had been discovered."

"So," said the mech dubbed Aquila. "Echo's legal. He has birth records from Docker City. Restart made sure of it. Besides … our kind isn't welcome on Cybertron, Skyfire. You know that."

Skyfire suddenly looked affronted. "What do you mean by our kind, brother? We are scientists and students from the Docker City Academy. We are also friends of Sentinel. Sentinel even managed to get us paperwork so that we could visit. Frag, Sonic Trip is a rotary and she's planet side. We are going. End of discussion."

Aquila, taking a step back, was obviously surprised by his twin's reaction. His wings even sagged and his hand twitched when he tried to touch his visor. Skyfire, opening the warehouse door, turned around and immediately felt horrible.

"Oh, Aquila. Stop. There is nothing wrong with either of us. You know that," said Skyfire, coming forward to grasp his twin's face, forcing him to look him in the optic.

"But … we have Con-coding. I-I have more than you. You might be fine, but me," said Aquila, his words stalling as Skyfire pulled him into a loose hug.

"It's not Con-coding. So, stop calling it that. Its war model coding. Its normal. The Autobots are just fools. Now, if it's nothing, we at least get to see Echo, Sentinel and Sonic Trip," said Skyfire kindly as his EM field intermingled with his twin's. "But if Sentinel needs to get off the planet, we will be there."

Drift, watching the twins a moment more, slipped into the open warehouse now that the two mechs had their backs to him. He couldn't believe his luck. He found a ship off of this planet. Now, he just had to find a place to stowaway in the ship. Luckily, it looked like he was going to be in good company … Not that neither of the fliers were going to find out if he had anything say about it.

XXX

Paw07: See all my Ratchet haters. He cares. He might even get Breakdown and Knockout some alone time. I really, really, want to write that scene. Not even going to lie. And speaking of possible future pairings, I hadn't even thought of the two sets of twins paring up until Drift's scene here. Still don't know if it would work out, but now I can't get the image out of my head. Also, sorry for the lazy proofread. Its late and I'm old and cranky. :p