Chapter 5: Nightmares

Ratchet's peds clicked softly on the cement floors, but the echoes made it seem like he was the size of Megatron.

Ugh, why did he have to think of that mech? It probably was because he was in the room that the warlord had once called his prison cell for half a vorn. What could he say though? Humans didn't require incredibly large room sizes… so there weren't many choices for the location of a temporary Autobot medical bay. So Megatron's old room it was. Ratchet sighed at the thought. That wasn't his only problem, said medical bay was low on supplies he needed. Bluestreak needed. But before he could even tackle that dizzying prolonged assignment, he needed to find Prowl.

The slagger wasn't in his office. He wasn't anywhere. He probably instinctively knew the resident medic was looking for him. Almost all the mechs seemed to have a 'medic sense' when it came to check-ups, but this wasn't even about a check-up so where was he?

Grumbling under his breath, Ratchet decided that perhaps it was best to check with Prime first. The Prime wouldn't have access to all the information he needed, but the leader would be able to make a request of all the men that had been hoarding parts –Jolt- to hand over extra materials for Bluestreak's care. Parts could even be cannibalized from other mechs who weren't really using a particular system or if they could finally find Barricade, they could rip some parts off that slagger when disarming him.

Killing him would be better for part selection though. Not that he could ethically support that train of thought.

Truthfully, Ratchet didn't much care for cannibalizing equipment. Some mechs were really bothered by that. So Ratchet personally didn't tell mechs when they were getting 'donated' parts if he could help it. Yet, the truth was, if big battles like Veala taught a medic anything, what do the dead need with parts? Their sparks were extinguished. Death was their new companion, and hopefully, the past Primes had come to greet their spark. They didn't need them anymore.

He had heard of it rarely, but sometimes parts were even taken from the soon to be deactivated. It was not an Autobot practice, but sometimes it happened by accident. He had even heard a tale where some field medics had taken parts from a mech they though offline only to have him scream in horror when they were trying to remove one of his reserve pumps. The mech had been so damaged he couldn't even comm them to let them know he was awake … and witnessing everything.

Ratchet shuddered at the thought. He didn't know how that tale ended, but he understood why it happened. Sometimes mechs just seemed to be deactivated, their spark beat so weak. This especially happened if the mech had been marked as a critical with a low survival rate. Those mechs were basically left to die, their parts still warm and ready for another body. Sometimes, medics just took those parts a little too soon. It had only happened to Ratchet once, and afterwards he always made sure the mech was deactivated by checking the spark chamber.

He'd never forget watching that spark fade. True, the mech had been marked a critical, he was little more than slag and wires … but it still haunted him.

Shaking off dark thoughts, he soon found himself at Prime's door staring at a pair of blue optics. There, right in front of the doorway, stood Prowl looking as if he was waiting for something… likly for the Prime's door to open.

"What are you doing here? I've been looking all the slag over for you?" replied the medic, his lip components twitching.

"Waiting to talk to Optimus… He's resting."

Ratchet looked at the door and then back at Prowl, ill-humored before he stated, "So… you're going to wait out here all night? What's so fraggen important that you are going to ignore recharge for a day?"

Prowl huffed through his vents, sighed, an emotional tidbit coming through his vocalizer as he stated, "Bluestreak. His behavior has been… disquieting."

The medic shook his head and reached out to grab at the mech's shoulder, forcing him to walk with him as he stated, "Well, it seems we have something in common this evening. You're worried about Bluestreak and so am I. Prowl, by chance, do you know the last time Bluestreak has had a youngling upgrade?"

…

A walk down the hall later and into the rec room, Prowl was sighing into his energon and was now looking far more tired than he had a few klicks ago.

Prowl accepted that he didn't have enough time to watch over Bluestreak, but the youngling was part of his unit or at least on the same base often enough that he should have noticed such a medical disparity. Apparently, the youth was nearly missing three upgrades. If something wasn't done soon who knew what would happen. Bluestreak's spark growth could be stunted and he might never mature fully, bonds incapable of forming and even interfacing becoming unlikely. Not to mention the youngling's body would probably become riddled with glitches since his spark would be unable to support new systems.

It would be a short life and slow death.

Prowl's wings drooped. He had thought he had been looking out for the young mech, but he had failed even at that. No wonder he never became a caretaker … no wonder he had failed his brother.

"So, I agree with your worry about Bluestreak," added Ratchet. "It could be the start of a glitch, his recent fear and the energon I saw on his back the other night could both be symptoms. It could also be causing the nightmares he mentioned … or maybe it's just paranoia."

Prowl frowned, knowing how glitches could seriously heed a mech's life and social status. He had one with his battle computer but it was nowhere as serious as say… Red Alert. The poor mech was so paranoid he seemed unable to exist without his job and its protection. He barely had a social life and if the war was ever to end, though no mech would admit it to his face, it was obvious that he would have trouble functioning.

The thought of what had happened to Red Alert happening to Bluestreak… it made him sick.

Ratchet sighed, watching a look of despair fill the mech's optics. Prowl being anything but stoic was rare, but with flicker of micro-expression and his EM field … it was obvious how much he was disappointed in himself. Bluestreak was the closest thing he had to a charge.

Reaching out a servo, Ratchet patted the hand gripping the cube of energon, stating in a truly sympathetic tone, "It's not your fault this happened, Prowl. You are not his caretaker."

Prowled pulled his hand away, his voice full of indignation. "I should have found him a caretaker then."

"Perhaps, but there's not much we can do about that now. What's done is done. We can help him now though," said Ratchet, having already thought this through when he was looking for the tactician. "First, do you know if anyone is willing to donate unneeded systems or hoarding parts? And second … is there anyone who would be willing to be Bluestreak's caretaker on staff?"

The enforcer's wings twitched at the question, Ratchet hoping to plant a seed in the older Praxian's mind.

The tactician's interest seemed to plummet suddenly though as he looked away in what appeared to be shame, his words hollow. "I will ask about the parts. As for the caretaker … there was a reason I was waiting to speak with Optimus."

Ratchet nodded, already suspecting why the officer had been perched before Prime's door. He wanted Prime to instate a caretaker for Bluestreak. He hoped Prowl would recommended himself, but found it far more likely to be Kup, especially since they all knew what happened with Hot Rod.

Nodding his head in accordance, Ratchet stated what was on the black and white mech's CPU. "You were waiting for Prime so you could ask about Kup. He really hasn't been the same without a charge to watch over."

Optics brightening, the enforcer slowly nodded his head and rose to his feet to leave, stating simply, "Yes, it would be good for both of them."

Ratchet frowned but merely nodded again. Was Prowl so blind he couldn't see that he would make a great caretaker for Bluestreak? Pah. Young mechs. Perhaps he would make his own recommendation to Optimus. Prowl likely would be unable to say no if Optimus requested it of him.

…

Scorponok inched a little closer, optics dimming, demand pressing into the spark bond.

"No, no. Please don't make me. I'll get you a cube or something… just leave me alone," whimper Bluestreak as his fingers reached for the door. He knew that running away wouldn't keep the drone at bay for long, but he just couldn't let this happen. He didn't want to be a Con!

Scorponok churred, his tail shifting. His young Master was getting twitchy. He could feel it over the bond. Well, best make this quick and painless as possible. He wasn't in the mood for a chase, but if he had to catch his food for the first time… so be it.

Speak of Unicron! Bluestreak was already to the door and thrusting it open, a screech on his lips as a tail swished out and tripped him. The drone was then about to rush forward and steal a quick meal from his tripped master, but another shout joined the fray as Bluestreak fell. Frag, someone was outside the door! The scorpion quickly found himself falling back into the shadows of the room, unsatisfied and hopefully unseen.

Bluestreak shook his head as he clanged into something, having tripped into someone. His optics going bright, he stared at a downed Ratchet. It was instinct after that, he supposed, but he quickly clamored over to the old mech crying out in horror, "Please don't let him get me!"

The cry vibrated over the walls, Kup's optics onlining and Prowl's sensitive wings twitching down the corridor. The enforcer's lights flickering has he turned and rushed in the youth's direction. He knew that cry anywhere. It was Bluestreak's.

Kup, at the same time, was rolling out of the berth like a practiced soldier. His gun was poised high as he scanned every corner of the room and the open door, only glancing momentarily to see Bluestreak being pulled close to the medic's chest in a protective manner and the medic's saws buzzing to life. Flashing lights soon filled the area as well. Red, white and blue lights reflecting off the walls.

"What's wrong!" barked Prowl as he came up next to the medic and the clearly terrified youngling.

"I don't know. Kup is there something in the room?!" demanded the medic, clearly troubled with how shaken the youth was. He was so slaggen glad he decided to take this way. Who knew where Blue might have ran in fear. This was clearly a night terror if the confused look on Kup's facial plate was any indication.

Glancing at the two mechs and then the petrified youth in Ratchet's arms, Kup stated, "T-there's nothing in here. It wasn't my snoring engine, was it? I know Hot Rod always said it was frightening, but I always thought that was just sarcasm."

"I'm sure he was. Nonetheless, will you and Prowl check both ways down the hall?" stated Ratchet out loud so Bluestreak could hear it, though his communication link opened up and stated dully. =For Bluestreak's sake. It was most likely a night terror given his current state. He's petrified.=

The two mechs nodded and each quickly jogged in the opposite direction of each other, their headlights dancing in the corners where the hall's lights did not reach.

Watching the two mechs run off, Ratchet quickly got to his feet and directed Bluestreak back to his room, making sure to turn on the lights and look around before having the mech sit on his berth. The youngling didn't even look at him as he scanned the room, shame entering his optics.

"Sorry Ratchet… it's just that…. You know I didn't mean to wake… I just got scared and… well… nothing was in here," stated the youth in downtrodden voice. Nothing I want you to know about at least, he mentally added, his optics threatening to start blinking off and on. Mechs didn't have tears like humans but they had their own way of crying. Generally, their optics would shiver back and forth in settings followed by vocal clicking. Personally, Bluestreak felt right now was a perfect opportunity to weep.

Ratchet stopped looking around, his systems long since informing him that there was no other life forms in the room…Though Bluestreak's spark signal seemed a bit distorted like there was two of him. It was probably the stress, his spark reaching out for a caretaker bond though there wasn't another one to answer back. The medic slowly sat down and in a soft voice asked, "Well, just because we didn't see anything doesn't mean you didn't. What did you see youngling? I'm not leaving until you tell me."

Bluestreak wanted to state it was nothing, just a nightmare, but for some reason he knew Ratchet would just see through that or if worst came to worst… the medic would agree and leave. Thus he would be completely alone for the drone's dinner. Freaking out and being saved by his countryman hadn't been in the plan, and he doubted it would work again, but he was glad to have been saved from the feeding for just a little bit longer. The little slagger was fast.

"Well," stated the medic, nearly ignoring the ping as Bluestreak shook his helm.

=What is it?= the healer stated as Kup came through the communication link, the medic still petting Bluestreak's back.

=Threaten to leave. That'll open the kid up,= stated Kup as he stepped into the doorway, pretending to talk to Prowl as he had an internal conversation with the medic.

=I'm not going to leave a mech, a youngling for that matter, alone after a night terror!= growled the mech.

=Just do it, an old mech knows!= added the green mech, his optics brightening.

=Fine, slagger. Just wait for your next rust check,= added the medic with a growl as he turned his full attention the youth, sliding off the berth and stating in almost a cold manner, "Well, I can tell you don't want to talk about it. If you are not going to talk it, we'll leave you to recharge. Okay."

Prowl looked ready to protest, but Bluestreak acted first. He immediately latched onto the medic's wrist, his optics shivered as his vocals cried, "Please don't go! I can't be alone! He'll get me!"

It was a floodgate after that, the clicking escaping his vocalizer in a rush and his armor fanning up and down slightly in distress. He couldn't stop it. He was so fraggen scared. He just couldn't stop himself from breaking down. Quickly, the young mech was all but bawling as his two hands wrapped around the mech's wrist, begging Ratchet not to leave him all alone.

Ratchet surprisingly gave in easily, stepping back towards the berth as a comforting chirp escaped him, a hand reaching out to pull the smaller mech into a partial hug. He then rubbed Blue's back, his psych evaluation programs writing up notes.

"And who'll get you, Bluestreak?" asked Ratchet carefully.

Despite himself and all the stress of late, Bluestreak didn't forget himself. He couldn't tell them of the drone, but he had to say something. So … he blurted out his most crippling fear. The initial fear that had woken him that evening. "They always come asking to rest with me!"

Ratchet tightened, his optics growing dim as he noted Bluestreak's sudden stiffness. The youth hadn't meant to say that.

"Who comes to rest with you?" stated the medic, suddenly fearing the worst. Maybe this wasn't just a night terror or even a glitch. This fear seemed far too mentally taxing. Bluestreaker was still a youngling, but there was still a possibility someone could have interfaced with him. Had someone taken advantage of the youngling and his mind was recollecting it? Had the Con's raped him? Had a fellow soldier not listened to no? Frag, frag, frag! Rape wasn't unheard of, but it was certainly not the easiest thing to treat. If a young mech's first time had been forced or very painful, it would likely cause his spark to believe that interfacing was excruciating and the likability of Bluestreak ever interfacing again would become extremely unlikely. It was a hard thing to treat.

Blue just continue to sob, his voice unbidden. He hadn't meant to say that, but it had been haunting him since he had gotten the drone. Perhaps, if he just told a little of what happened in Veala he would… no, he must not tell. It hurt too much!

Ratchet swallowed, asking in a worried tone. "This … mech… that comes to rest with you. Does he want sexual things from you?"

Blue's head popped up from its dipping pose, his voice squawking as he immediately caught Ratchet's mental direction. "N-no! Not like that! They're … they're…"

The youngling went silent. He suddenly couldn't say it, not after hiding it so long, but Ratchet was right there. Kup and Prowl were right outside of the door as well. Their blue optics were even peaking in from time to time. If he couldn't tell them, who could he tell? He couldn't press this off anymore, but then again he had never even whispered to anyone about how he had hid among the piles of corpses for solar-cycles trying to ignore being picked up a critical and then for parts. He had recharged with corpses for days to remain alive. And even to this day … some of the corpses came to visit him in his sleep. Their grey chests serving as pillows. Then he would remember with vivid clarity how he … had … used their internals to try and stem his own bleeding, or how he had lapped up spilled energon off those corpses to keep online. Or how he had ...

"They're … dead," the words escaped him so easily, so simply that he himself was shocked. After that, he couldn't keep the words in. It was like he was puking his nightmares, every word hurting as it came up his intake tubing, and yet it promised a calmness when all the contents were regurgitated for the world to see. Soon, he found himself latching onto Ratchet's chest, blubbering details he never wanted anyone to know.

"They're dead, every last one of them! Mech's from the battlefield! Cons, Autobots, neutrals, whoever was in the pile! They have holes in them, missing limbs, open chests, dripping tubes, but they always ask waiting to be my pillow and pull me into a cold embrace! They always come to visit me in the dark… a-and I can't stop them. They're always there."

Prowl's optics dimmed as Bluestreak's voice became erratic, the hall echoing his frightened tone like ghostly whispers.

Kup actually had to look away, ashamed as he whispered, "Some kind of caretaker I am. I know he's not my charge, but I should have noticed when he got out of the berth."

Prowl said nothing as Bluestreak's confessions became outright wails, the medic whispering calm nothings. The medic would likely stay with the young mech tonight. The youngling would probably get a sedative though. His spark rate was becoming too erratic to be healthy.

"It's not your fault. Like you said, you are not his permanent caretaker… though if he did have one this might never have happened," added Prowl, planting a seed for dual intentions, hoping his skill in manipulation was as good as Ratchet's.

Kup's hands became fists and he stated, "Yes, perhaps that is true."

Ratchet, meanwhile, watched the conversation taking place outside the door, his hand still rubbing Blue's back as he clicked at the youth. He then pulled a needle out of his subspace and the injection was quick, the medic softly telling the distressed youth to lie down on the berth while the sedative he had just administered kicked in. He didn't leave the youngling. He instead quickly crawled in after him, clicking like all caretakers did. Ratchet had never really been a full time caretaker himself, but he had had many cases like this which dealt with frightened younglings that did not have caretakers.

Frowning at the thought, he allowed the recharge bound youngling to clamber at him and wrap his arms around the medic's waist, pulling the larger mech close. He then placed an audio on Ratchet's chassis to listen to his spark-beat. Ratchet really didn't care for this part of youngling care, the cuddling at night, but Blue needed physical attachment right now… and if the look on Kup's face was any indication, the elder mech now was on a mission. He was walking off in the direction of Prime's chambers, his purpose rather evident.

=You didn't have to manipualted him Prowl,= stated Ratchet over the private comm link to Prowl as he pulled Blue's head under his chin, fully encasing the smaller mech in a tight embrace. =I know you've been wanting to ask him since you judged that Hot Rod was a deserter, but just asking would have been less of sore spot. Kup feels guilty now … Plus we both know you would be a far better one for Bluestreak.=

Prowl twitched at the comm link, silent for a moment before he replied, =I didn't outright ask because I didn't want to press too hard. Kup might think after Hot Rod's abandonment that he wasn't a positive role model. Truth is, he's one of the best. I didn't want to push too hard and have him deny that part of his programming.=

=I know he's good, but is he as good as you? You've known the kid longer. Also, don't even bother asking … Yes, Bluestreak defiantly is going to have a full physiological exam after this. Walking nightmares and delusions are a bad sign, Prowl. I don't think this is a glitch,= added the medic, feeling the sobs grow a little softer as the youngling grew less and less active.

The sedative was kicking in.

=I'm sure you will know what to do about that, but Bluestreak needs someone to really care for him right now. Someone knowledgeable.=

=And why can't that knowledgeable caretaker be you, Prowl?= asked the medic accusingly. =I know you care for him. Otherwise you wouldn't have kept him under your command all these vorns.=

Ratchet then carefully added, =Just who does he remind you of so much of that you can't let go?=

Prowl said nothing, he just turned to look at Ratchet for a moment before he clicked off the lights and shut Bluestreak's door. Ratchet frowned for a moment at the lack of reply, but busied himself with Bluestreak who was now trying to remain awake. The elder mech quickly whispered into the youth's audio before Blue finally just gave in, his optics completely offlining. The medic sighed, glad for this one won battle. Then, looking around the room for a moment for something akin to walking corpses, the medic decided there was nothing threatening in the room and offlined his own optics, cycling down for recharge.

Little did he know, that right below the berth a pair of red optics shifted, worried. A drone then curled up into a ball under the berth wondering about the nightmares of his young master. He then promised his young master that if there were indeed any walking-dead coming to visit them he would chase every single one away.

He was still hungry though… slaggen medic.

XXX

Paw07: Yeah… its been a long time but at least I kept my word. I don't abandon things. Regardless, I think my betas gone but at least I bothered to proofread this one properly. So, enjoy! Also, there is so much more to the subject of Hot Rod being a "deserter". Nothing is that simple.

Note: I changed the ending of the last chapter a little bit.

(Revisions March 2016)