Now better, thanks Beta!

So, all thanks goes to ! Khalthar !

You know the Disclaimer by now, right?

Good XD

So, it goes on^^


All mechs present leaned forward to peek into the medics opening servo, all of them curious. They all had been very worried about the small newspark and after Ratchet had established a bond with it, they all were keen to know if it was a femme or a mech, or its general frametype. Ratchet sat on his berth, Wheeljack soon sat next to him, standing right beside the berth, with a good position to look over everything was Jazz. Jolt was crouching next to Ratchet's legs, his helm at the same height as the older medic's arms. Hound, at last, had positioned himself to look over Jazz's shoulder-plates, but facing the door as well.

With a low whirring sound the outstretched servo in front of them all opened up one digit at a time.

Ratchet held his intakes for a few moments as he could see his newspark for the first time. There in his palm sat his small one, slowly uncurling from a protective ball, no longer a lifeless grey but a bright silver, the small one turned its helm before facing Ratchet completely. A soft, bell like, chirping sound left its vocalizer and something on its back moved slightly. He could feel confusion and a slight bit of panic from his smallspark as its helm swiveled from one side to the other, the small optics raking over the other mechs in the room. Ratchet sent his love through the bond, calming the newspark down instantly.

Ratchet onlined the medical scanners in his servos, concentrating all of his attention on the incoming results. The spark was stable, the protoform had a few scratches but it was nothing too serious, energon levels were low but still at an acceptable level, the temperature of his newspark was slowly decreasing, but that was still nothing to worry about.

"Primus! Hadn't thought that I would see this frametype again so soon." Wheeljack muttered, his face-wings flashing a deep purple. Ratchet focused on reality again as he heard his friend's words, he had been so focused on calming his smallspark down and on his results, that he had neglected to simply look over the small one.

Ratchet gasped as his optics wondered over his dearsparks frame. Wheeljack was right, he, too, hadn't thought that his newspark would belong to the same frametype as Prowl, Smokescreen and the other youngling.

There in his servo sat a small Praxian newspark, a lithe build, small chevron on the helm and little doorwings on its back. The main color was this bright silver he had seen before, but there were small markings all over the frame, like somebody had taken a brush to paint some copper colored dust tendrils on the small one. The doorwings were color reversed; they were a deep rich copper with bright silver dust tendrils. Deep blue optics stared up at him. There was also dried lubricant and traces of old energon on the frame, probably still from the birthing process, he would have to go to the washracks with the small one to clean himself and his newspark.

"It is so cute! And the coloring is so unusual! And just look at those little doorwings!" Jolt nearly squealed as he leaned in, his voice higher pitched. The newspark looked at the younger medic, helm tilted before it curiously chirped at the blue mech. Ratchet, Hound, Wheeljack and Jazz chuckled lowly as Jolt laughed and chirped right back.

"Ratch` can ya tell us if tha smallspark is a mech or a femme?" Jazz voice was laced with fascination as all of them observed how the smallspark rubbed its small servos over one of Ratchets digits, trilling and chirping all along before it started shivering. Instantly Ratchet closed his servo again, bringing it closer to his chassis and simultaneously commanded his frame temperature to rise. His still active servo-med-scanners were now running an in depth scan on his newspark, while tugging on the bond to show the small one that everything was alright. He could feel the smaller answering tugs as his newspark calmed down, the shivering stopped.

Moments later his HUD alerted him to the incoming result of his initial scan. The small one was now warm enough for a quick spark check, but Ratchet would not expose his small ones spark for every mech to see! There was another way to find out the Gender of a Cybertronian.

Traditionally there were two ways to determine the gender of a bot. First one, a medic would open the sparkchamber to examine the spark, though able to see the condition of a spark and to say if a bot was a femme or a mech. The second way was for creators only, or those who held a creator bond with a smallspark. They had to send spark-energy of their own through the bond, so that the energy could pool around the smaller ones spark, enabling the creator to `feel` the gender of the newspark when the energy would return to the creator.

Ratchet would use the second way of `sexing` his own sparkling, it was not nearly as intrusive as the normal way and the small one wouldn't think of him, his own new creator as a brute.

So he gathered energy from his spark while opening his sparkling chamber in his chest to deposit his newspark in it. The gathered energy followed the newly formed bond, slowly pooling around the smaller, warm pulsing, spark of the sparkling before returning after moments, filling his own spark with certainty and warmth.

"Ratchet? Everything's ok? Your optics offlined there, for a moment." Hounds deep voice caught Ratchet's attention and he snapped back into focus, his sparkling chamber closed itself after his small one crawled into it. He turned his helm back to face the other mechs, which were regarding him with curiosity filled optics.

A small smile ghosted over the older medic's face plates before cupping one of his servos over his chassis. Warmth and hunger flooded his bond, alerting him to his small ones needs, it was accompanied with a soft trilling sound, so soft he almost couldn't hear it. He cooed lowly, reassuring his smallspark before lifting his gaze proudly.

"It is a femme! A small, healthy Praxian femme!" Ratchet smiled widely as Jolt gasped. Wheeljack and Jazz were shocked into silence as their processor tried to compute the statement and Hound stared at him, slackjawed but with proud optics.

"A femme… A real, living sparkling femme… That is surely a sight for sore optics. Such a rare occurrence and it is a Praxian! Prowl will be most pleased about that. I hope you don't mind if I tell him about the little femme?" Jazz accent had slipped, indicating the severity of the situation.

The old medic nodded after a few moments of thought, giving his consent to the saboteur and his idea. A big smile shined on Jazz's lips as he tilted his helm and whistled lowly to himself, opening a commlink to his friend Prowl.

"Oh Prowler… Guess what happn`ed `ere?"

"Do you have a name for her? I mean, you possibly can't already, but maybe you made a list? Or could we help you with it? Do you want to be alone right now? Can I be the uncle? Please? We will be the bestest family unit ever! Why are you grinding your denta right now? Why are Jazz and Hound laughing? Should I shut up now? I'll take your growling as a positive answer! … Shutting up now…" Wheeljack started rambling loudly, startling his newspark.

Ratchet ground his denta as the inventor rambled on and on over possibilities, of inventions he would make for the small sparkling, of all the things they could do together, all the places he coul… Ratchet tuned him out, focusing again on the needs of his femmespark, which were hunger and warmth. To his luck, there were a few cubes of lowgrade left on his table.

Ratchet stood up again, leaving his warm berth and grabbed a cube of the mentioned energon as he walked over to his door, interrupting the still ongoing, but lowly murmured ramble of the inventor, the snickering of a scout and the two mechs left.

"If you would excuse us then, I want to go to the wash racks, the small femme is in a need of some cleaning."

"I have just one question left for you, Ratchet. Have you told Optimus about your newspark?" Hounds voice was filled with curiosity. Ratchet stopped dead in his tracks and turned around again, the cube of energon only half way to his lipplates.

"No, he isn't back from his own mission from Polyhex just now, so I haven't had the chance to tell him about Prowl's youngling and my own newspark. It will have to wait for a bit. And I have to admit… I am a bit nervous about it…" he trailed off, his helm lolling back.

Wheeljack and Hound gazed at each other before stepping up to the medic and slinging one arm over his shoulders, so Ratchet was pressed in between them.

"Don't worry. Prime will understand. You were the best solution to our problem with the newspark and there was nobot who would be better suited to take care of it…, I mean, her. You are mostly at base so the chances that the Decepticons will find out about the newspark is near zero percent. He won't take your helm off, don't worry about it. And he would never try to take the smallspark from you and give it to the other femmes, that would be the biggest mistake ever!" Wheeljack threw his arms in the air, emphasizing his points in his argument.

Ratchet sighed, one of his servos again cupped over his sparkling.

"Come on Ratch`. Prowler told me to send ya to tha racks. He and tha younglin` will be there, too. And ah hate to tell ya, but you stink! So get ya pedes in gear!" Jazz started shoving him softly out of his own door, leaving the rest behind.


As the door to the wash racks opened, Ratchet was welcomed by a wall of steam and the sound of hot water running into the grand community bath tub, or more pool. In this pool there was place enough for more than 5 mechs the size off Optimus! And somebot just started filling it, but out of that noise, Ratchet couldn't hear anything, it was quiet.

As he stepped around the small corner his optics landed on the form of Prowl, who had seated himself in the pool, a smaller mech sitting in his laps. Both their doorwings were twitching slightly and arching up as Prowl talked in a low tone to the youngling.

Ratchet cleared his intakes, snapping Prowl's attention to him. The Praxian arched his doorwings in a high arc for a moment before relaxing again and patting the water beside him in an invitation for the medic.

Ratchet sat beside the Tactician, the water already reaching to his upper waist and it was the perfect temperature for him and his newspark. He could already feel his backstrut relaxing, his frame sagging slightly deeper into the water and his optics shuttered in bliss. A deep felt sigh escaped his lip components and his helm lolled back. Beside him, he could hear Prowl, the stoic and no-nonsense mech, chortle lowly to himself before he resigned himself in.

It was quiet for a few minutes, both mechs and the youngling just relaxing in the rising water, but all too soon the Praxian stopped the water flow and leaned back, his helm facing the relaxing medic.

"Jazz told me something about a newspark you adopted. Is it really a newspark? And he said… Jazz mentioned that it had a… Praxian frame? Is it true? Is there somebot else, besides Smokescreen, the youngling and me?" his voice was nearly cracking up in the end, his optics hopeful and blinking like a Retro-Owl. Ratchet stared for a few intakes before sitting up straighter and opening his hatch to his sparkling chamber. He could feel the newspark stir. Over the bond he coaxed the small one to the opening and into his already waiting servo. Small servos scratched over his palm and it took a few minutes for the small one to settle down in the middle of his palm. The hatch closed again, sealing his chassis shut.

Gently he lowered his servo down to the water, opening his digits on the way down. Curiosity filled the bond on the little femme's side and she chirped softly at him. Her deep blue optics regarded him with trust. Her gaze snapped over to Prowl when the Tactician moved in shock and she chirped loudly at him, crouching lower in Ratchet's servo to hide behind his digits.

The medic chuckled and rubbed one of his digits slowly over the small helm of his femme sparkling, calming her down and eliciting a purr from her throat. Her small doorwings fluttered in bliss as she sprawled over his palm, her pudgy legs and pedes and her small arms stretched outwards as Ratchet's digit wandered down her back, gently rubbing over her sensitive doorwings.

"This is my smallspark. Beautiful, isn't she?"

"A femme?" Prowl jerked back, his optics wide and his one servo, which wasn't occupied by the youngling rose as if he wanted to touch the smallspark but thought otherwise half way through.

"Didn't Jazz tell you? I thought he would have…" Prowl shook his head, his optics fixed on the smallspark, which was constantly flittering its wings up and down.

"The coloring is… unusual. I've never seen something like that. But maybe it is just some grime or other fluids?" Ratchet shrugged, letting his digit wander up again to her helm and rubbing the chevron slightly. The purring sound intensified, causing Prowl and Ratchet to chuckle.

"I thought all Praxian femmes had been offlined, and now there is one, sitting in your palm. I really don't know what to say about that! The chances of that encounter is less than 10 percent! And I thought the youngling was a happy coincidence."

"It was important to me to save a life, it didn't matter what gender! That was just luck and I couldn't just let her die! And now, with the Decepticons after every femme and sparkling, I wouldn't even dream about giving the sparkling to one of the Autobot femmes. That would be, like welding a glittering turbo-rat on their aft with the sign `shoot me please!` on their back!" Ratchet grunted.

"You know how to take care of a sparkling?" Ratchet growled lowly in his tanks, glaring at Prowl.

"Prowl, I am older than you, I am an experienced medic and you think I wouldn't know how to take care of a sparkling?" The older Praxian seemed to shrink slightly into the water at that.

"I am sorry for this misinterpretation."

"Don't worry about it. You won't be the last one to accuse me of that, I think."

"Do you have a name for her?"

"Not yet. I haven't had much time between my duties as a medic, my sparkling's and myself much needed recharge and waking up to some mechs invading my quarters! So, no, I haven't thought about a name."

Meanwhile the youngling in Prowl's lap turned his head to follow the sparkling with his optics. His gaze, which was formerly nearly hollow and haunted, was now filled with hope. His servos, clamped around Prowl's arm, loosened their grip and he turned around fully, disregarding the adult mechs who now faced him. The youngling edged over the lap he was sitting in to the sparkling, observing it without making a sound.

Ratchet's servo entered the water, so that a small layer of water covered his palm. His sparkling squeaked in surprise and scooted back on servos and knees, eyeing the liquid with trepidation. One little servo rose up and smacked down again, splashing water everywhere around her, even on herself. She squeaked again, louder this time, her gaze now wandering from the water to a smirking Ratchet to an impassive Prowl and back again.

Ratchet chuckled as his sparkling hit the water over again and again, just to start laughing as the bond was filled with amusement by Ratchet himself and the small one. The sound of her laugh was entrancing for the old medic, it sounded like the melody of the crystal gardens with their singing crystals mixed with the soft chiming of a delicate bell. It was startling to say the least. Normally voices of sparklings were high pitched and grated on the nerves of everybot, even the ones that were taking care of said sparklings, but this voice…

Ratchet saved the recording of that tiny laugh in his memory processor.

He lowered his servo a bit more, sinking his little sparklette slowly deeper till the water was at her waist. Her optics widened as she stared in shock at Ratchet, sending her uncertainty, her fear and her distress over to him. Big droplets of coolant pooled in her optics as Ratchet lifted his hand up again, cupping his little sparkling against his chest as she started to cry. Her sobs wracked her body as she started wailing in a high pitched voice. But even her wailing was softer in its pitch, more melodic than the screeching that was normal.

Both older males hissed in discomfort and the youngling pressed his servos against his audio receptors. Ratchet started cooing and rubbing the back of his newspark in a soothing manner, trying desperately to calm her down again.

"At least this wailing isn't as obnoxious as others I've heard before!" Prowl groaned out loud.

Ratchet started to purr loudly, rumbling his chest like a creator would do. Slowly, very slowly the wailing subsided, replaced by hiccups.

"Come on now, small one. It is just water. It will not hurt you. Let me show you, my small one." He spoke softly, submerging his other servo to gather some liquid in it. Lifting it up again, he let the water drop from his servo on his helm, startling the small one.

"See? It isn't bad. It makes me shiny and clean." He rubbed a soft rag from his subspace over his helm, cleaning of the grime. Beside him Prowl started chuckling, cuddling his youngling nearer as he focused on Ratchet's helm.

"You shouldn't do that, Ratchet! Praxians love shiny things. You just captivated the attention from both the sparkling and the youngling!" Prowl laughed lowly. The sparkling grabbed onto the lowered rag and examined it before bringing it nearer to her helm and biting down on it, chewing.

Ratchet tugged at the rag, dragging her head with the movements, while smiling brightly. He growled playfully at her, before letting go of the rag, so that it landed on her and his palm. She squeaked again, happily this time before wiggling around in his palm and rubbing against one of his digits. Ratchet could feel the smaller servos drag the rag over his digits, back and forth, back and forth.

The youngling lifted his own servo, shooting a look to Ratchet before lifting up one side of the rag to look under it. A soft warble left his vocalizer and he tilted his helm. A chiming chirp answered back and the form under the rag moved to the edge of Ratchet's servo, chirping again. The young Praxian leaned back again, letting go of the rag before cuddling into his caretaker, purring. Ratchet took his rag back, staring as his small one protested. She cuddled up against his servo, rubbing her soft frame against his digits.

"Can I bathe you, now?" His small one trilled happily at him, patting her servos down as soon as the water reached her little pedes.

"I think the smallspark has had her fun now. Seems like after the first shock, she enjoys the water." Prowl thought out loud. The medic nodded his helm, turning it so he was facing the Praxian just for a few moments. But those moments were long enough for a small sparkling, it seemed.

Ratchet felt the weight on his servo shift and then vanish, at the same time the youngling lunged forward, servos outstretched and his mouth opened for a desperate keen. Ratchet and Prowl instantly reached for their charges, one grabbing onto small shoulders to keep him from sinking, the other fishing around in the water for the flailing, dripping and laughing sparkling.

The femme laughed out loud as Ratchet pulled her out of the water, cradling her against his chest. His spark was racing and he started glaring down at the silver sparkling in his servo.

"Do NOT do that again, small one!" he grunted out, listening to the laughter his own femmeling let out.

Prowl nodded harshly.

"Maybe you should name her `Rascal` or `Mayham`."


Maybe i should really name her somethiong like that^^

But the Name issue is still slightly ongoing XD

So, stay tuned in XD