Chapter 8

Wheeljack looked up as the door to his workshop cycled open and Ratchet stalked in. The expression on his face was of furious hurt.

Aw, frag. Someone's told him.

The medic got right up in Wheeljack's face and hissed, "You knew." It wasn't a question.

The engineer answered anyway, backpedaling a little as though expecting to be hit. "Yeah… I'm sorry."

Instead, Ratchet's face crumpled and he closed his optics for a moment before regaining control. "Sorry? You mean to tell me that you knew this whole slagging time and never said anything about it? You actually encouraged me to pursue this with them knowing that it was ONLY A BET?" He couldn't seem to keep his rising voice from becoming a little hysterical.

Wheeljack flinched miserably. "Look, Ratch, I just didn't want you to be hurt—"

"And you didn't think that letting me make a fool of myself would hurt worse?"

The inventor's optics snapped back up to look at his friend. "I didn't think they had any intention of collecting on that bet—they would have been crowing about it yesterday morning. Besides, didn't you see Sideswipe's face? Something was eating at him—and that made me think that maybe he was regretting the bet, or else I would've told you the minute I found out what had happened." A sudden thought struck him. "You were with them again last night, weren't you? You wouldn't have been this upset if you hadn't."

Face twisting in an anguish the medic rarely showed, Ratchet shocked Wheeljack by pitching himself headlong into his friend's arms. The Lancia held him awkwardly, patting his back to comfort him as he shook. They couldn't cry as the humans did, but sometimes Wheeljack wished they could—it seemed to help with the pain.

"Hey, hey, calm down, it'll be all right…" he murmured to the shuddering medic.

"No it won't," Ratchet mumbled against his friend's shoulder plates.

"Yeah, it will. It only seems like the end of the world," he replied lightly, trying to get a smile out of the CMO and failing.

"It's been so long since I've done anything like this—gotten this involved—I can't forgive them, 'Jack," the medic whispered.

"Want me to plant a bomb in their quarters?"

Ratchet snorted and pulled away from his friend's embrace. "No."

"You love them, don't you?" Wheeljack asked softly.

"I don't know." A pause, then, in a small voice, "I do know I care about them."

"Then tell them. Talk to them, work it out. I have it on good authority that they were overcharged at a party when they made the bet, and I would bet my last cube of energon that they wish it had never happened."

"I meant it, Wheeljack. I can't let it go, not this quickly. This is too much, even for them."

The inventor nodded. "Alright then—I don't blame you—but you know you won't be able to avoid them forever. They're gonna end up on one of your repair tables again sooner or later, with the way they fight."

Ratchet laughed humorlessly. "I know. But I'll cross that bridge when I get there, I guess. If… if anyone comes to the medbay in pieces, I'll be in my quarters. Otherwise, I would really appreciate it if you or First Aid handled it for now."

"Anything you need, Ratch," Wheeljack murmured, watching the medic walk slowly back out the door.

Jazz was waiting for them at the entrance to the Ark when they got back. "I wouldn't go anywhere near medical today if I were you," he greeted them conversationally.

"And why is that, exactly?" Sunstreaker asked suspiciously.

"Cause the Hatchet's not happy at all, and he might decide to rip out your sparks for fun," the saboteur replied.

"And you're telling us this because…" Sideswipe trailed off expectantly.

"Just a friendly lil' warning."

"Uh-huh. What'd you do, Jazz?"

"Well, it ain't so much what I've done as what he knows that you've done, if you catch my drift," Jazz said, almost apologetic.

"I'm going to kill you," Sunstreaker snarled, lunging at the Porsche with burning optics, but Jazz darted out of the way, evading the bigger 'Bot easily. Sideswipe only watched them as though he didn't quite understand what he had heard, his breath hitching in his intakes.

"Hey now!" Jazz cried. "Calm down, man, calm down! Sides, a little help with your brother, please!" This seemed to snap the red twin back to reality, and he quickly leaped on his enraged yellow sibling and wrestled him to the ground as Sunstreaker yelled every obscenity he could think of—and there were many.

"Thanks, man," Jazz said gratefully, heaving a sigh of relief.

"Don't thank me," Sideswipe grunted, still trying to hold down a struggling and cursing Sunstreaker. "The only reason I helped you was because Prime would lock us in the brig and throw away the key if we killed you."

Some of the sparkle went out of Jazz's optics at that, and he nodded grimly. "I'm sorry, for what it's worth—I didn't know it meant so much to you—but you gotta admit that you brought it on yourselves."

All the fight went out of the hissing and spitting yellow twin at that, and Sides 'oomphed' as he collapsed underneath him. "Yeah, we know," the red warrior said wearily as he climbed to his feet, holding out a hand that his brother disdained to take.

"Oh, and Jazz?" Sides added, pausing to look over his shoulder as he and his brother passed through the main doors of the Ark.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for the heads up, but if Sunny or I see you anytime in the next few days, I won't be held responsible for what will happen to you."

Jazz just gravely nodded his understanding.