I only own my OC's!

Lot of dark in this one, guys...


Fixit's Story

I lead the minicon up to the room we'd be sharing if I hadn't become a Protectobot, and sit on the bed in my human form before patting the spot beside me. He hesitates a minute before hopping up beside me, and turns to me expectantly. "What did you want to talk t-to m-me about?"

"Calm down, Little One. It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you. As a matter of fact, I was going to offer just the opposite, okay?"

He gives me a surprised look. "Wh-What?"

"I've been thinking about taking on a symbiote long before I even knew I was Cybertronian, Fixit, and I knew exactly who I wanted, but I could only dream he existed for the longest time…"

"M-Mari… Are you…" He looks up to me hopefully, and I watch a tear roll down his cheek, and have to hold myself back from wiping it away. "I'm sorry…"

"Don't be. It's all right, Little One…" I grab a tissue and wipe the tear away gently. "I could only dream he existed…until today. I'm really new to this, but I would be so…so pleased, to have you as my very first minicon."

"D-do you even know my story? Or about my glitch? Because I-I'm damaged goods, Mari."

"No to the story, and yes to the glitch." I sigh softly. "And I'm damaged too, Little One. I am too. But Defensor took me in anyway, and encouraged me to do the same. I'm really scared of rejection…"

He looks up at me sadly. "Me too…"

"Hey. It's all right, Bitty. I'm not going to leave you, okay? I'll be right here, no matter what happens."

"What if you change your mind…after I tell you my story?"

I run a hand over the minicon's head gently. "I don't think I could, Fix. I've been hoping to find you since I moved in with the Protectobots, and though it's not even been a month yet…and I just met you this morning… I can't lose you."

"…Okay…" He sighs heavily. "I started out as a nurse in Iacon, working with some of the medics who were under Ratchet before the war. Now, the Council…they treated us like braves—naves—"

"Slaves?"

"Yes. Thank you. Forcing an obsolete mass-crash—"

"Calm down, Little One. You're getting yourself worked up already…"

"Sorry…"

"Don't be, Bitty. Now, did you mean class?"

"Yep. Minicons, among other frame types, were treated as an obsolete class of Cybertronians who were either too vocal about the Caste System, glitched, a sympathizer to the slaves, an animal-former, a war-build, had an outdated frame design, or knew too little in comparison to the amount of energon they needed to function. Several also still looked at Minicons as if their sparks name-dame—"

I run a gentle hand over his back, trying to help him calm down, and hoping I can prevent him from either glitching or crashing. "Came."

He nods slightly. "Came, from Unicron—he's the destroyer of worlds. We didn't, though. We come from Primus like everyone else…and—what was his name… Micronus Prime was the progenitor of our race, not Unicron." Fixit sighs heavily before continuing the story. "So they treated us like property instead of people if we met any of those criteria; and I met most, if not all, of them. We minicons were already at a point in the war where we had to decide if we wanted to become Decepticons, or stay Autobot, and the council didn't make it easy by doing what they did. It was either starve, or join Megatron…"

I shake my head. "I can't believe Optimus would let that happen, Fixit! He's always been about freedom being everyone's right!"

"Optimus didn't. His predecessor, Sentinel, did."

"I've heard of that glitch. He defected to the 'Cons when he left Cybertron with the pillars, gave the order to exile the Autobots, gave the order to destroy Chicago—that's where we are, by the way; Chicago—and just overall made me both furious and despondent at the same time—and that was when it was only a movie. When I'd learned that it had really happened…well, I was more focused on the fact that we'd really lost Ratchet, but still…I was broken… And Defensor still doesn't know that, either, so…"

"Don't tell them, right?"

"Until I get the chance to, and I'm not too focused on telling them about hating what happened to Cybertron and Chicago five years ago. It's in the past now, so it's not coming up unless we watch the movie."

Fixit sighs sadly. "I have a degree in engineering too, and they just…just threw me away… They sent me to work on the Alchemor, a—"

"High security prison ship sanctioned by the Autobot council—the corrupt Autobot council."

"Yes, that one." He sighs heavily as I run a hand over his back. "Anyway, so I'd been working on the Alchemor for a while, and settled in on the ship—it was almost full, but we hadn't taken off yet…nor were we allowed to leave it—when…"


Fixit's rolling down the hall of the Alchemor, checking the pods in his sector for damage, and their contents for signs of life, when a mech, Camshaft, rolls up beside him. "Want to hang out in the quarters with me later?"

"Sure!"


"I had no reason to doubt his motives, Mari. He was my best friend… He knew my spark was too powerful to risk anything—that I spark easy, but can't carry to term—so I rarely interface with anyone unless I really care about them… I've lost four bitlets already…" Fixit leans into my side and sniffles, causing me to hand him another tissue. I have a really bad feeling about where this story is going, but I won't stop him for anything. I know how it feels—that fierce need to get your story out after you're finally freed from the situation. "But… When I got to our shared quarters—um…all the caretaker and guard minicons were forced to share the same room on the ship, because all but one of the others had stasis cells filled with the prisoners we had to guard, and that one was for the overseer, so the remaining pods that would have been stored there were lining the secondary halls. Those were the ones I had to monitor."


Fixit rolls over and sits beside Camshaft on the berth. "So… what are we going to do?"

Camshaft turns to him with a smirk. "I wanna 'face."

Fixit gives him a horrified look. "No."

"Come on!"

"I spark too easy, and I can't carry to term. You know that better than anyone else on this ship, Camshaft. No."

"I'm not gonna spark ya, Fixit. Everyone else frags on their off shifts!"

"You're only going to hurt me. No."

Camshaft scowls at Fixit before pushing him back on the berth. "You made me do this, Fixit." He unfastens the clip holding his wheels around his waist and pulls their model's nigh-useless legs out. "Take 'em off."

"N-no."

"Do it, or I will."

"I. Said. No!"

"Fine. Have it your way." Camshaft unfastens the clip and jerks the wheels off to the other side of the berth before straddling Fixit. "I just wanted to have some fun with you! There's nothing else to do on this prison!"


"Holy Primus, Sweetspark! You mean he really…"

"Yep." Fixit's tone is really…bitter, dangerously bordering on dark. "He raped me, Mari. I couldn't stop him…" He sighs. "I started having symptoms of carrying just a few days later, but of course, I had to do my best to hide it, or they would have thrown me away yet again. Around that time, we had our last inspection, and…I was late to my shift because of the nausea."


"Fixit."

"C-Council-Femme Rosebud! I-I—"

"You've been late on your rounds for the last three cycles. Do you want me to send you to the scrapyard?"

"N-no…I-I'll t-try h-harder… I-I promise…"

"You'd better." She stalks off, leaving a trembling minicon in her wake.

Fixit runs a shaking hand over his pale faceplates. "You've got to pick up the pace, Mech, or they'll throw you away again." He gags suddenly, and barely makes it to a waste bin before purging his tanks with a noisy retch. He straightens and runs a finger over his chin to make sure there's no energon visible.

Schematic and Camshaft approach, talking—well, more like Camshaft is bragging—about what had happened. "I can't believe you got the little glitch to interface with you! He won't 'face with anyone!"

Camshaft chuckles. "I know, right? It was a fight just to get him to unwind for a few breem!"

Fixit whimpers from his hiding place, and looks at the floor as a couple tears drip off his chin. He manages to wipe them off right before the two roll past. "Hey, Fixit."

"Wanna get some energon?"

Fixit covers his mouth with a hand and shakes his head quickly. He swallows hard against the rising nausea before moving his hand. "I can't. I'm…I'm still not done with my rounds."

"Oh…well, I'll see you around then."

"You too!" He waves after them before sighing. "Do they really think I'm a glitch?"


"I made it a point to avoid them after that, since I wasn't allowed off the ship, and I spent most of my time on the bridge or in the bathroom when I wasn't doing my rounds. I was fueling only because I had to, and most of it would come right back up no matter what I tried." I run a hand over his back before just deciding to pull the 1.5 foot shorter than me minicon—I'm five and a half feet—into my lap. He cuddles in as close as he seems to dare—which is barely anything right now—and his tears, which had been dripping on his legs, are now dripping onto my shirt. I pull out a few more tissues and hand them to him before grabbing one of my plush throw blankets and laying it over his shoulders. "I just knew I was carrying—and that I was going to lose my bitlet—either because of a lack of medical care—I…I was the only medic on board—or because of the usual reasons—but I already loved it…so much… The symptoms only got worse, and before long, I could barely move without feeling like I was about to purge… They had sent one of the lower council-femmes—our overseer on the planet—with us, and she made sure to lash out at me any time she caught me still in my berth during my shifts…"


Fixit's sitting on the edge of his berth, having yet to officially get up because of his now-frequent nausea.

"FIXIT!"

"C-Council-Femme Rosebud!"

"Why are you still in berth!? The work-cycle started two breem ago!"

"I-I'm sorry. I-I'm sick, Ma'am… Tank virus."

"Then why are you not in the infirmary where you belong?"

"Because I'm the only medic here, Ma'am. I figured I'd try to 'charge it off…"

"Get to the infirmary, NOW, and don't return to quarters until you are able to complete your shifts."

"Yes, Ma'am."


"I went to the med-bay, like she'd told me, and took the chance to actually scan myself, to check for—and on—my bitlet…to see if it would be strong enough to actually survive, or if I was just going to be mourning a fifth sparkling…" His voice breaks then, and I pull him in, and hold him while rubbing his back through the blanket, letting him cry for as long as he needs to. While he does, I choose to simply move the tissue box closer, so he can grab them if he needs them. "It was there—beautiful as always—but not looking any stronger than the others had…" He trails off for a moment, and takes another tissue before attempting yet again to dry his eyes. "I deleted the scans, but I knew, if it would have any chance at all, I'd have to get off the ship, but…with Rosebud…and the risks of miscarrying just from using an escape pod… But…I had to get away. I knew it would be a death sentence for my bitlet, but I just…I couldn't take the stress anymore, Mari…"


In the middle of their off-shift, Fixit sneaks from the med-bay to the escape pods, and sets one of the minicon-sized ones to launch toward the nearest planet before slipping inside. After the door closes, but before the pod launches, he lays a hand over his chest gently. "I'm sorry, Sweetspark. I love you… May Primus keep you…"


"And that's how I got here… You and your brothers found my pod, and you brought me here with Ratchet…" He sighs heavily, his shoulders shaking violently with repressed sobs. "I'm too scared now…to ask Ratchet to check for my bitlet… I'm pretty sure it didn't survive the trip to Earth…it was so weak, Mari… Its chances…"

"Oh, Fix…" I pull him in for a gentle hug before leaning him back so I can talk to him. "It's going to be okay, Little One… I'll be right here, no matter what happens." I smile down at him. "Now, we need to go see Aid, okay?"

"W-why?"

"Because you need to have your spark scanned before we do this, and I need to get tips on forming a symbiote bond, because I've never done it before."

"Oh…" He whimpers sadly and curls in on himself, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his chin on his knees, just like I usually do when I'm upset. "Please… C-can't we sk-skip the sc-scan… I-I d-don't want t-t-to see th-that it's g-gone!"

"Oh, Little One…" I pull him in for a hug, and hold him there for a moment. "I'll be right here for you, okay? And if it is gone, then I'll help you get through it; but I don't want you to give up before we know anything, okay? She could be just fine."

"Sh-she?"

I run a gentle hand over his head. "I don't want to call her an it, all right?"

"A-all r-right… I always w-wanted a f-femme…" He slides off my lap before starting for the door. "L-let's g-go…"