At long last . . .

There is some overlap with "No Quiet" in the last scene, but the scene is expanded and from Wheeljack's POV now. As this chapter will end after the final scene in "No Quiet," this will be the last time the two stories overlap. If you read "No Quiet" first, I thank you for your patience.


Chapter 3: Not Alone

Ratchet relaxed in the silence of medbay. Already Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had been in, sporting injuries from their patrol. Even without 'Cons in the vicinity, the Twins didn't seem capable of not getting banged up. Although he gave them a hard time, Ratchet actually enjoyed their company, enjoyed talking with them, and enjoyed being around others, period.

But not today.

Today Ratchet wanted to be alone. The only mech whose presence didn't drain him was his bondmate. Ratchet's near death and recovery, the fatalities from the Battle at Autobot City, the casualties from Cyclonus's recent attack, and Prowl's and Kimi's near deaths—all the stress had exhausted him. Drained him. The loss of their sparkling on top of that had even strained his relationship with Wheeljack at first, and now all Ratchet wanted was to be alone or leave himself in Wheeljack's care.

So when Ratchet heard the medbay's doors hiss open, he had to sigh. Repairs, repairs, repairs. He turned to face the door and steeled himself, trying to find a reserve of strength he knew wasn't present.

Inferno stopped just inside the entrance and crossed his arms. "I guess you know that Red's at Wheeljack's little session right now." He hesitated and glanced around medbay, his gaze falling upon Kimi and sticking there. "I didn't know you and 'Jack had lost a sparklin'."

Ratchet frowned. "I supposed it'll be all over base in a few orns."

"Maybe." Inferno returned his gaze to Ratchet. "But—I mean, I wish . . ." He sighed and walked over to sit on the berth nearest Ratchet, then stared at the floor. "I know I wasn't the carrier. I didn't have the Gestation Protection program or sense a second spark in my chest. I know it's not the same for me, but it still hurts."

Struck by the familiarity of the grief, Ratchet grasped his shoulder. "Yes, it does."

Inferno shuddered and put his face in his hands. "I've been so focused on helping Red I don't think I've grieved. I wasn't sure if I was even allowed to grieve since I wasn't the carrier."

"I understand that. I wouldn't let myself grieve, either." Ratchet paused, suddenly feeling like an idiot. "You know, it made so much sense to me for 'Jack to form this group for Red, Mirage, and Tracks. But I never once stopped to consider that you, me, Hound, and Smokescreen might need to get a few things off our chests, too."

Inferno sighed and propped one elbow on his knee, sinking his face into his hand. "Well, I know I need to. Slaggit, it's such a nightmare watchin' Red clutch his chest and cry. I can feel his pain through our bond." He let his hand drop and shook his head. "I want to fix it, to make it better. But I don't know how except to promise we'll keep tryin'."

"That sounds familiar." Ratchet snorted to himself, struck by the fact that Wheeljack had been the one promising him they'd keep trying, not the other way around. "Ah, frag." He'd admitted to not handling it well, and he'd even apologized to Wheeljack. But until that moment, he'd never considered just how badly he'd failed his bondmate. He grabbed a chair, jerked it over, and sat by Inferno.

Inferno stared at him. "Ya look guilty." He sighed. "Well, I feel guilty, too, like I should have been able to do somethin' to stop this from happenin'. But I know that's illogical."

"Grief isn't logical." Ratchet propped his elbow on the berth and frowned at the floor. After a klik, he activated his external comm. ::Ratchet to Hound.::

::Hound here. Go ahead.::

Inferno watched Ratchet with a look of curiosity.

::Are you on shift?:: Ratchet asked.

::Nope. What'cha need?::

::Report to medbay. You, me, and Inferno need to talk.::

A pause. ::Ah. I'll be right there. Hound out.::

Inferno smiled as Ratchet closed his comm. link. "Not exactly as organized as Wheeljack's version."

"Ironic, isn't it? I'm the one who's—what does Spike call it?—OCD, and 'Jack's usually the absent-minded one." Ratchet smirked.

Inferno laughed, and the relief contained in that laugh was so obvious Ratchet nearly flinched.

The medbay doors hissed open, admitting Hound. "Laughter?" He smiled at them. "This is a good sign." He walked over, sitting beside Inferno on the berth.

Ratchet shook his head. "Well, it's just as well we all admit we have the same problem and stop pretending we're not hurting. You can't laugh without doing that first."

"Fair enough." Hound slumped, his smile vanishing instantly like a discarded mask. "I have to say, I'm tired of smiling when I actually just feel ill. Totally nauseated. I've watched Mirage suffer a lot of things, but this has been the worst. For Primus's sake, the attending medic told him he hadn't even lost a sparkling!"

Ratchet sat up straighter. "What?" He hadn't heard this part. "Who told him that?"

"Retractor, before we transferred here." Hound shook his head. "Mirage knew he'd been carrying, but the glitch wouldn't even do a visual confirmation."

Feeling like going to Cybertron just to beat Retractor senseless, Ratchet hopped up from his chair and began pacing. "That slaggin', half-cocked, pompous excuse for a—" He bit back the string of insults that sprang to mind. "Hound, why didn't you two come to me later? I would have verified it."

"Mirage doubted himself afterward," Hound replied quietly, crossing his arms over his abdomen. "He'd rage awhile, then pretend like nothing had happened. He became moody. Wheeljack verified it, though."

Ratchet knew that much. "Yeah," he sighed.

"Red's been moody, too." Inferno frowned. "I can't say I haven't been, too. I've just been swallowing it is all."

Hound nodded. "Yeah. I feel like I should be strong for Mirage, so I've been acting normally. But I really wanted to bash Retractor's head in. In my own way, I guess I'm just as angry."

Although the mental image of Hound assaulting a fellow Autobot nearly made Ratchet glitch, he found himself chuckling anyway. "I'd love to see that. The mere fact you, of all 'bots, were approaching Retractor with dangerous optics would be enough to make him lubricate all over himself."

Inferno and Hound burst into laughter.

Ratchet smiled and sat back down. "So, let's start with you, Hound. Other than beating Retractor senseless, what would you like to get off your chest?"

Hound paused, clearly thinking, and Ratchet felt himself relaxing. I'm not alone in this. I should contact Smokescreen, too, and the four of us should just get it all out.

When Hound began his story, Ratchet had to suppress a smile, and he understood why Wheeljack had been so happy about forming his group. Something positive can come from all of this, he thought, relieved. And I can be a part of that.

oOoOo

That evening, as soon as Ratchet entered their quarters, his gaze fell upon Wheeljack, who was lounging on their berth, his body stretched out in a languid invitation. Wheeljack had released his blast mask already and shot a mischievous grin at his bondmate. Ratchet laughed and swooped onto the berth, running his hands under Wheeljack's back and pulling him in for a kiss. Warm arms encircled his shoulders, and Ratchet sighed in relief against Wheeljack's lips.

"Hm?" Wheeljack asked, nibbling his lower lip.

Ratchet smiled and pulled back. "It doesn't matter how many vorns pass, I can never get tired of walking in and seeing you waiting for me."

"You're in a good mood." Wheeljack pulled him close again, kissing him and slipping his glossa into his mouth.

Moaning faintly, Ratchet opened his mouth and rubbed their glossae together. He ran one hand down Wheeljack's back, caressing the hinges of his winglets as he went, and the other up behind his helm.

Wheeljack shivered and pulled away. "Um, maybe we should refuel before we do that." He grinned and nodded to the opposite side of the cabin, where two energon cubes sat on their desk.

Laughing, Ratchet stood and retrieved the cubes. "So, you'll be interested to know I had an impromptu counseling session with Inferno and Hound, and it seemed to help them unload a bit. How did your session go?"

"Good." Wheeljack scooted over, giving Ratchet room to sit beside him, and took his cube. "We discussed what feelings and reactions were normal, and at the end we even discussed carrier systems requirements and how to increase the chances of sparking again."

Ratchet slid onto the bed beside him, wrapping one arm around his shoulders as they sipped their suppers. "Sounds like you all made progress, then. I've got to admit, it was helpful, and not just because I realized we're not alone in this. It enabled me to do something progressive, you know? I felt like I was fighting back somehow."

"I know." Wheeljack smiled. "And I think that in the long run, it'll—"

Ratchet's comm. link beeped, interrupting them.

::Rodimus to Ratchet.::

::Ratchet here.:: He exchanged looks with Wheeljack. Their leader sounded abnormally grim.

::We have an infection running rampant, I'm afraid. I've sent a data burst to Teletraan II with all the details. Go over the data and see if you can figure out a cure. Rodimus out.::

Ratchet opened his mouth to ask questions, only to realize the channel was already dead. "Well, that was abrupt." He climbed to his feet and set down his half-empty cube.

"Must be serious." Wheeljack gulped down the rest of his energon, then stood and set aside his cube as well. "Shall we?"

"Certainly." Ratchet rushed out of their quarters and headed to medbay, Wheeljack close behind. As soon as they reached the computer terminal, he retrieved the data packet and played it. The sight of the glowing red mechs fighting each other made his circuits stiffen in fear.

"This isn't good," Wheeljack said quietly, reading over the attached information.

He shook his head. "It's transferred by touch." He opened a panel on his arm and entered a remote code that locked the medbay doors. "We have to make sure no one gets in here. And without a sample of the spores, our only option is to search the medical database for references to a similar outbreak."

"Let's get to work, then." Wheeljack sat in one the chairs and engaged the search software.

Feeling distinctly uneasy, Ratchet joined him, hoping they could figure out a way to stop the infection before it spread further.

oOoOo

The following morning, Wheeljack awakened from recharge and realized he didn't remember losing consciousness. He sat up, finding he'd fallen into recharge at the computer terminal, and stared at Ratchet, who was focused on the screen. "Why did you let me pass out like that?"

"Because you needed it." Ratchet pulled his blaster from subspace and set it in his lap. "You better get out your weapon. I still haven't found any reference to an infection like this, and it's reached epidemic levels. Pandemic, really." He pointed to the screen.

Wheeljack pulled out his blaster and looked at the live feed. The sky spy relayed an image from Moscow, where a mass of glowing humans were punching, kicking, and thrashing each other. A crowd had gathered outside the Kremlin, and Wheeljack didn't like the looks of where things were headed. "Primus! At this rate, we'll be the only ones left who aren't infected." He glanced over his shoulder, where Jazz lay on a berth, still in stasis lock.

Ratchet followed his gaze and stood. "I know. And I don't need to tell you what kind of danger you and Jazz are in." He laid his hand on Jazz's shoulder.

Shuddering, Wheeljack joined him. "I don't even want to think it." He wracked his processor, trying to come up with a plan, some way to protect themselves. "Where is Rodimus? Has he searched the Matrix for a solution?"

"Some strange things happened while you were recharging," Ratchet said. He paused as his comm. link beeped. ::Who is it?:: he demanded, his tone betraying his suspicion.

::Prowl,:: came the answer. ::Bluestreak reports—well, never mind. What is going on?::

::It's insane.:: Ratchet frowned. ::Wheeljack and I have locked ourselves in the medbay. Get your afts here ASAP, and I mean use your top speed. Don't stop to look at or talk to anyone! Ratchet out.:: He closed the link.

"He sounds normal," Wheeljack noted, uneasy.

Ratchet sighed. "We'll need to get a visual confirmation when he gets to the doors. At least the security cameras remain functioning. Still, we'll want to take cover."

Wheeljack nodded and changed the computer to the security feed of the hallway, then joined his bondmate to hover behind the berth farthest from the door. After a klik, he saw five 'bots approaching. "It's Prowl, Bluestreak, Kimi, Sunstreaker, and Sideswipe." He examined them closely. Fortunately, none glowed red, and they acted normally. "They're all clean."

"I'll let them in, then." Ratchet remotely triggered the release. The doors hissed open, and the mechs dashed inside, the doors nearly clipping their heels as they slid shut again and locked. Ratchet and Wheeljack remained crouching behind the farthest berth, both aiming blasters at their visitors.

"Report," Prowl said, frowning and hugging Kimi to his chest.

Ratchet visibly relaxed and lowered his weapon. "Thank Primus none of you are infected. Sorry about the blasters, but we had to be extra careful."

"Infected?" Prowl sounded bemused.

Although he wondered how they had missed the action, Wheeljack stood and turned to the computer, bringing up a live feed of Portland as Prowl joined him. "We're calling it the Hate Plague. It was caused by some spores two human scientists brought back from space."

Ratchet stepped up beside them. "The spores contain a highly contagious viral agent, and the plague is transferred by touch. The last we heard from Rodimus, he'd sent Sky Lynx after a Quintesson for help."

"A Quintesson?" Prowl's optic ridges creased in clear disgust. "But based on what we've learned—"

Ratchet gripped his shoulder. "Don't freeze up on me, Prowl, but the humans brought back more than the spores. They brought back the body of Optimus Prime. I don't know the details. All I know is that Rodimus wants the Quint to revive Optimus in the hopes that he'll know what to do about the plague."

After a moment of collective stunned silence, Sideswipe spoke. "What do we do?"

"Stay put, if we can," Wheeljack replied, trying to be calm and factual despite the feeling of surrealness invading his processor. "If we leave the medbay, we run the risk of being infected." He put his hand over his chest, a wave of fear and anger burning through his circuits. "And I don't need to tell you what would happen to my sparkling if that occurred."

Prowl shuddered. "Okay. We'll hole up here, then." He turned his gaze to his bondmate. "What about Jazz?"

"We have to bring him around, just in case we have to flee." Ratchet grimaced. "Even if he were left in forced stasis lock, if he got infected, Silverstreak would extinguish."

Prowl grew unnaturally still. "No," he whispered. In his arms, Kimi screamed as though she sensed her brother's peril.

Overcome with the need to take control of the crumbling situation, Wheeljack turned pure business. "Blue, Sunny, Sides, you guard the doors. If we're attacked, you'll be our last line of defense. Prowl, you focus on keeping Kimi calm while Ratchet and I bring Jazz around."

Prowl nodded, and the young warriors took position without question. Ratchet gave Wheeljack an odd look, and he could sense his surprise at his abrupt take-charge attitude. Still, he said nothing as they walked to Jazz's berth.

"Here we go," Ratchet said, accessing the appropriate panel in Jazz's chest.

The whirl of systems rebooting filled the air, and then Jazz slowly turned his head toward his bondmate. "Prowler? W-what happened?" His gaze fell on their daughter. "K-kimi!"

"There was too much stress on your systems, so you went into stasis lock," Ratchet explained as Prowl carefully lowered Kimi onto Jazz's chest.

Wheeljack watched as Jazz hugged Kimi and kissed her helm. To his relief, he didn't feel jealous for once. He felt happy for Jazz and knew how amazed he had to be. Maybe I'm beginning to slowly heal.

"I can feel Silverstreak," Jazz said, inspecting Kimi as though he wanted to memorize her entire body. "He seems fine. Is he fine?"

"For now," Wheeljack said, wanting to reassure him. "In fact, Silverstreak's energy levels are perfectly stable, but we have a completely different problem at the moment." He cringed to himself and then outlined the situation.

"Ah, slag no!" Jazz struggled into a sitting position. "I've made it this far. There's no way I'm losin' my sparklin' right at the end!"

"Careful!" Wheeljack put one hand on his back, supporting him. He knew the Gestation Projection program was fueling Jazz's reaction, but he was afraid he'd strain his systems again.

A thud jarred the medbay doors, and everyone jumped. Angry voices pierced the metal:

"We know you're in there! You can't escape us."

"We'll smash ya ta pieces, ya know!"

Jazz gasped, a sickly, wheezing intake of air. Wheeljack didn't like the sound of it. It sounded far too much like the gasp he'd made right before losing his sparkling. Worried on multiple counts, he turned toward the monitors, which showed him the last sight he wanted to see. "Slaggit! There're five of them, all armed." He glanced back at his companions, unsure how to proceed.

Jazz shoved Kimi at Prowl. "R-r-ratch!"

Prowl grabbed Kimi, and Ratchet picked up a scanner. However, Jazz was already clutching his chest, right over his spark chamber, and Wheeljack knew exactly what he was feeling: sharp pain.

"Lie down," Ratchet ordered, and Jazz slumped back onto the berth, pressing both hands against his chassis. Ratchet scanned his spark chamber.

"Hurts," Jazz bit out.

"Too much stress!" Ratchet tossed the scanner aside. "Your sparkling is separating now."

"What?" Prowl sounded ready to glitch.

Terrified for Jazz's and Silverstreak's sakes, Wheeljack ran across the room to the storage cabinets, opening the one that contained Silverstreak's protoform. He grabbed the black and white form and rushed back to the berth, standing across from his bondmate.

Ratchet was already in action, using his best calm, authoritative voice. "Jazz, I need you to open your spark chamber for me. The separation is proceeding abnormally quickly. We need to get in there now."

Jazz groaned in pain, but he folded the metal away from his spark chamber. With a sharp inhalation, he grimaced and thrashed on the table, and Wheeljack shifted the protoform, holding it against his left shoulder. Then he placed his right hand on Jazz's shoulder, patting it.

"It's all right." Wheeljack used his most soothing tone of voice. He could see the sparkling pulling away from Jazz's spark, and he decided Jazz might be able to withstand the pain better if he understood what was happening. "What you're feeling is normal. It's the squeezing off the energy tendril that keeps your sparkling attached to your spark. It's causing spikes and surges, but neither of you are being hurt by it, okay?"

"'kay." Jazz's voice sounded wheezy, but he stopped thrashing.

"Take in deep droughts of air through your intakes." Ratchet held his scanner over the sparks, watching intently. "It'll help your systems stay balanced and disperse those surges." He suddenly subspaced the scanner. "'Jack, hand me the padded energy forceps."

Wheeljack scanned the tools for the odd instrument with circular ends, and seeing it, grabbed it and handed it over. "You're almost done," he told Jazz, seeing the tendril of energy fading. "The separation is nearly complete."

Jazz nodded, but then the tendril snapped in and out. Jazz arched off the berth, clenching his jaw, and Wheeljack cringed in sympathy.

The banging on the doors grew louder, and the screech of bending metal ripped through the room.

"They're going to give in!" Bluestreak fell back, putting himself between Jazz's berth and the door and raising his rifle.

Ratchet held the forceps over Jazz's chest, ready to pluck out the sparkling, and Wheeljack could feel his intense concentration through their bond. "Almost there," Wheeljack whispered, leaning closer to Jazz. "Just stay calm."

Jazz sucked ragged breaths through his intakes and gasped as the tendril snapped in and out again.

Voices punctured the weak doors. "Breach it! Kick it in or blast it, just breach it!"

"Almost there," Wheeljack repeated. He kept his voice even for Jazz's sake, but his terror was growing. No time, no time, no time! He glanced toward the doors, only for them to burst inward under the pressure of the insane mechs beyond. The Twins and Bluestreak fired immediately, knocking out the two minibots who rushed through the opening. Wreck-Gar was trying to force his way in behind them.

"Now!" Ratchet yelled.

Wheeljack jerked his attention back to Jazz as Ratchet snapped the forceps into his spark chamber. An astrosecond later, he pulled out a small, blue ball, and Wheeljack held out Silverstreak's protoform. Ratchet shoved the sparkling into its spark chamber and held it there. A few nanokliks passed, and the sparkling brightened, lighting the protoform's spark chamber.

"Got it!" Wheeljack pulled Silverstreak back to his chest as soon as Ratchet removed the forceps. He was immediately distracted, though, by the scuffle at the doors.

"Frag!" Sideswipe tried to dodge Wreck-Gar, but he tackled him to the ground. Upon contact, Sideswipe's body began glowing red.

"'Where's the beef?'" Wreck-Gar asked, sneering, and Sideswipe laughed maniacally.

"Slaggit!" Ratchet pointed to his office. "Prowl! Wheeljack! Barricade yourselves in with Kimi and Silverstreak."

Without argument, Wheeljack ran to the back, frightened and desperate. No! No, no, no! I'm so close. He dashed into the office, holding the crying Silverstreak to his chassis. Please, he prayed. Please, Primus, don't let me lose it now!

He glanced back to see why Prowl wasn't with him. Prowl was halfway to the office, but the infected mechs were close behind him. Sideswipe attacked Sunstreaker, who howled like a turbowolf as his body illuminated, and Wreck-Gar wrestled Bluestreak to the floor.

Prowl whirled around, and Wheeljack wanted to yell at him to hurry. His hand went to the door lock without his conscious consent, and in that instant, he knew he'd have to lock Prowl out. He'd never make it in time. Wreck-Gar had grabbed Ratchet, and Bluestreak had Jazz. Eight howling mechs pressed in upon Prowl, their crimson glow casting half the room into flickering shadows. Wheeljack locked the door and moved to the office window, sinking to his knees as he watched. How long until they reach me?

Apparently frozen in place, Prowl clutched Kimi tightly, and her screams rent the air. Wheeljack felt nauseated, but at least Kimi couldn't be killed by contracting the virus.

Silverstreak's cries turned into screams as well, and Wheeljack hugged him close, feeling all his hope drain away.

"Light our darkest hour." Optimus Prime's voice seemed to echo in Wheeljack's mind, and Silverstreak quieted suddenly. A blue light pierced the room, electrifying the air as it wound its way around the infected mechs, making their bodies shimmer. The madness visibly drained from their optics, the aggression and red glow from their bodies, and they stood staring at Prowl, as though confused as to what had happened.

Wheeljack leaned his helm against the wall, nearly collapsing in relief. Thank you, Primus. He slowly cycled air through his vents, trying to calm down. Through the window, he could hear the unmistakable clang that told him Prowl's processor had frozen and sent him into stasis lock.

"Sounds like a good idea," Wheeljack muttered to Silverstreak, then lay back on the floor, clutching the sparkling to his chest. Silverstreak chirped at him, clearly curious, but Wheeljack felt his processor shutting down his systems.

Too much stress, he thought, welcoming the stasis lock.

Postscript: Sorry for the horrid delay. I don't normally have that problem, so it took me off-guard.

Thank you to the following for reviews: Kookaburra, Sin-Skyeon, Illusion224, pl2363, OrianPrime92, and Sslaxx,