Darkness That Lies Within

Taratron and Onyxfang, 2009

Is there anything that can make you happy?

I don't know what to say to make it better

Seeing you like this down and hurt so badly when you have been so kept together

What's this

All this time I thought you didn't need me

Now I've gone from you and now you tell me

You were nonchalant, strong and unaffected and you never wanted me to be there

I never saw your heart that's how close you kept it

So right now I'm so unsure how to care

what's this?

No attention was given

no affection from you to heal the hurt

I was hoping

I was wishing just to listen and to hear those words.

~Jordan Sparks, Now You Tell Me, 2007

Note: Slash warning. Nothign too graphic. But if any slash indication makes you nervous, you may want to skip this chapter.

***

During the day, the Axalon was not very bustling; with a small crew, you could never call the ship busy, but most of the crew was on a diurnal schedule, the patrollers largely awake for nocturnal scouting. And it was for some unfortunate reason that Dinobot had internal security watch shortly after sunset; the rest of the crew had thankfully retired, leaving him to watch the map and grid of surrounding areas.

On most any other night, any night previous to a little over two months ago, he would have been mindlessly bored with such a task, but for now he was silent, forcing himself to concentrate on the grid, empty of Predacon signatures, rather than his usual brooding. He was rather certain he had not been acting any differently lately, in the past month, and surely Primal was relieved at the lack of arguments with the rat now; Dinobot no longer found pleasure in baiting the fool...for now, another night on watch. A good thing, at least, since he had not been sleeping well, since the arrival of that disk from Darkside...and the mantis' disappearance shortly after that...

"Heh...if I didn't know ya better, I'd say you were deep in thought…but that's impossibility with yer processor..." a familiar voice jeered from behind him.

The raptor did not even growl back; he had been avoiding the rat for some time now (and amazingly enough, he still functioned, and the base was not in shambles either) and had no want to verbally spar with the disgusting rodent. It was enough that he grieved, and privately so, and secretly so if the truth be known; he had gone through great pains to insure the mantis never came close to speaking the truth to any Maximal, and now with his death, what should have been relief was instead a dull dread that never seemed to fade. "....shouldn't you be doing something useful, mouse?"

Rattrap blinked his oil-bright black beast mode eyes uneasily when Dinobot refused to take the bait and tried another insult, this time directed at himself, certain the raptor wouldn't be able to resist responding, "Eh, do I ever do anythin' much useful?" He had to be desperate if he was mocking himself in hopes of snapping the raptor out of it.

Then again, the raptor rarely paid much attention to his crew; it was very likely they had noticed the changes in him, but one did not just ask Dinobot what was bothering him.... A snorted laugh, brief. "For once you estimate your abilities correctly, Vermin....since you have sentry duty after my shift, shouldn't you be recharging?"

Hearing Dinobot laugh was almost as unnerving as how weak and nonexistent his digs were. The rat tilted his head then transformed to bot mode," Done...besides, this is da only time the base is quiet enough fer a 'bot ta hear himself think. Heck, I'd be entirely nocturnal just ta avoid the kitty cat if Banana Bot wouldn't throw a hissy fit..."

He growled softly in irritation. "I am watching the security grid, rodent...go think of your molding food someplace else."

Of course he had done the exact wrong thing as Rattrap perked up at the growl, taking it as a sign of normalcy in the way they related to each other and was starting to grin. "Food? Nah. I'm more interested in beattin' my high score. Besides, there ain't nothin' on the grid anyway. Hasn't been fer like a deca-cycle. I'm starting ta figure all the Preds slagged each other and are rusting in pieces on that scrap pile they call a ship. Good riddance too."

The rat certainly knew how to push his buttons...of course, Dinobot would have gladly, even still, especially still, destroyed the lot of that mangy crew, save for the one he had not seen in over a month. Perhaps Megatron had finally destroyed him, or one of his toxins had, or any number of 'accidents' that could befall a Predacon who was not always a step ahead of Tarantulas... "Rodent, I want silence in here, and if I must slash your vocalizer from you, so be it."

" Heh, big talk fer a bot dat sits mopin' in his quarters all day er whatever...." he smirked then reached over and switched the screen from the grid monitor mode to some sort of childish battle simulation, obviously of the rat's design. It looked like the Darkside, and of course having been inside it for a number of cycles at one point, Rattrap knew pretty well what it looked like.

The raptor closed the game instantly, a warning glare in his optic. "Rodent, this is your last warning...." Finally! Finally some anger from the old stinking lizard!

"Yer warnin' me?" he snorted," Well bring it on, Chopperface. Please. Give me a sign there's some little bit of da ole scalebelly left in you, not just this whiney, meek, pathetic overgrown iguana skulking around da ship. Until then, ya can kiss my skidplates and don't let da door hit ya on the way out..." he plopped in a seat, his arms behind his head, feet up on the console.

It was more frustration that moved him, the fact that if the rat had noticed, then everyone had...then everyone knew something was wrong, even if they were smart enough not to question him...and inner self-rage that he had become so weak that the Maximals had seen. Rage, a dark and furious wrath, boiled over in his optics. Of course they were weak, they were Maximals, but hypocrites that he had always known, deep down, they were, they despised him for showing weakness as well, for grieving over an enemy's death, an enemy they knew of (and he had known) so briefly and without comprehension...a Maximal who had been reprogrammed by an idiot raptor, who had discovered the truth too late...and he rose suddenly, towering behind the rat, and seized the smaller bot by the back of his neck, his talons digging in as he hauled him from the chair, half turning, and with a flick of his wrist, sent the rat flying, crashing half against the wall, half into the hallway. "I said silence, rat!"

Rattrap blinked in shock, stunned, his optics flickering on and off as he stared at the raptor in a mixture of confusion and what almost felt like betrayal. Sure, they got touchy, even threatened each other physically but Dinobot had never ACTED on it before with such ferocity. For a moment Rattrap was actually speechless before he blurted out, "What in da Pit's wrong wit you!?!" He honestly had no clue the anguish his friend...using the term loosely...was going through. For all he could tell he'd just snapped and gone nuts.

Yet there was no sign of weakness, none of the poker face he usually wore, and certainly none of the past months of almost angry, empty expression on his face now. "Leave me be, rodent, or no one will find your stinking corpse!" Much more like the old Dinobot, but in this case, something dangerous flickered in his optics, as if, for once, he meant the threat.

He blinked, wincing as he felt the dents from hitting the wall, feeling much to his own surprise a hint of real concern, "Hey, I was just kiddin' around, ya know? I didn't mean..."

Silence from the raptor, but his optics began to glow....whatever had been bothering him, apparently it no longer did, if his old self was back...along those lines, however, the rat might want to bolt!

He blinked then got to his feet and scrambled down the corridor, glancing over his shoulder.

He was not followed; in fact, after a moment, the raptor turned and sat back down, optics on the reopened grid, silent. Damn the rodent, damn all the Maximals....who knew what they suspected, but he doubted it was anywhere near the truth. And he continued to watch the grid, keeping an optic on the night patrollers, waiting for his shift to end, if the rat dared show himself...

***

Indeed, Rattrap didn't dare show himself till the end of Dinobot's shift, and even then he said nothing, astonishing for him as he moved into the room as silently as a mouse ready to bolt. This was stupid, he thought suddenly. No way was he gonna let Chopperface know he had him cowed. He cleared his throat then reached over and put a container, rather like a bottle only made of metal, on the console, hesitating before he spoke, "I figured you seemed like you could...uh...use dat more than me.." For some unknown reason, he didn't add. Maybe the raptor had just lost it. Half the Preds seemed crazy as it was, so it shouldn't have been so shocking.

The bottle was a high-grade plutonium, one of Rattrap's "essentials", as he had stated when he'd brought a case onboard prior to the Axalon's departure from Cybertron. After over a year on this dust ball of a planet the case was down to about two bottles, some of the only reserves still remaining from the initial storage.

It was the old Dinobot, the growling, snarling, threatening raptor who glared back at him, suspicious. "I don't need any of your drinks, rodent. I'm fine." He did look a lot better...

"Okay, whatever…" he said, sounding unconvinced as he slid the bottle back over towards himself.

The ex-Pred rose, barely glancing at the smaller Maximal as he left, not for the hallway to the quarters area of the ship, but to the lift, heading outside, and within moments, the beastmoded warrior stalked off into the night. ....of course, no one could recover from whatever had plagued the raptor so swiftly...he was merely hiding what the matter was now. And nor would he drink anything from the rat....of course, if he didn't know Rattrap had tampered with it...like his room's personal energon dispenser....IF the rat dared to go that far...

"Ya need somethin' that's fer sure...' he raised an optic arch. Would he REALLY dare go that far? Normally, no way. But the more he thought about it, the more he was certain there was something off with the raptor's programming. And Dinobot had way too much pride to admit that and go see Rhinox about it...until it was too late and he ripped them all to slag in their sleep…Rattrap gulped. Well...when you put it that way...

On the other hand, if the raptor ever found out he had been drugged, or slipped strong enough plutonium, or other hard drink, to lose control.....even the Darkside might not be a far enough place to hide. Of course, he had left the base...if there was a time to strike, it'd be now.

"Just a little nudge ta get his circuits checked out...no harm done…right?" he laughed nervously, eyeing the bottle, then snatched it up and headed down the hall.

He fished out his lock picking kit to bypass any securities the former Predacon may have had his roomed sealed off with. Then again if he'd booby-trapped it...Rattrap gulped again then finished bypassing the security code on the door before he could change his mind.

The room inside was nothing he really been able to look into before; the raptor was skilled at finding spy cameras and destroying them, or dropping them down the garbage compactor. But unlike the rat's room, this was Spartan, almost empty. There were no little projects set up, no posters or decoration on the walls, save for a stretched raptor skin (rather creepy, considering his beastmode), merely a sword rack on the far wall, the room's main computer with a blank monitor screen, asking for a password, a bunk set into the wall slightly, and under it, a rough nest of sticks and bedding for a sleepy raptor, when the need to sleep in beastmode struck. But even that was neat, almost perfectly round...and the only other thing in the room was a very small shard of purple metal on the side table near his bunk. A very neat and ordered room...no wonder he found every spy camera.

Rattrap blinked, his optics drawn to the purple shard. For some reason it sent a chill through him. His beast mode's instinctive curiosity made his hand hover over it a minute, but no way, with this clean a room the raptor would definitely notice anything missing. As it was he felt like he was being watched. He snapped the cap off the bottle and crossed to the energon dispenser. Dump a little in, get out. That sounded like the best plan. This room gave him the creeps.

He resisted the urge to whistle as he opened the dispenser and dumped in a good dose of the strong alcohol, sniffed thoughtfully with his keen sensors, then shrugged and dumped in a little more. Better safe than sorry. Maximals and Predacons were like any other living being…they required a fluid, a fuel, to function and survive. Thus each Maximal on the Axalon had his dispenser which dissolved stabilized energon crystals into a liquid state. While their beast modes required solid food and supplements of water, their bot forms equally required sustenance to keep functioning.

This one was a nice, gleaming dispenser, used apparently, but like almost everything else in the room, mostly untouched, as if the raptor was renting a room, rather than permanently staying. The purple shard gleamed dully, but in the light, it still radiated sharpness. Very odd, considering a lack of any other personal good, other than swords, in the room, and it was impossible to tell what it had come from. The deed done, now he had to escape....of course, if the raptor did get tipsy from this, there was a good chance he'd speak, if he was a friendly drunk....otherwise the rat would be wiser to lock him in his quarters till it wore off.

He took a sip from the bottle himself, liquid courage and what not, better than none at all. Then he backed out of the room, yelping when he stumbled into something scaly and whirling the face the skin hung on the wall. Primus, that gave him the willies!

***

A few hours later (did the rat count them?) the lift opened, the raptor not even looking into the main control room, simply stalked to his room, muttering to himself about the weather. Damn springtime and its pollen...he could barely smell anything now!

Rattrap sat tensed at the console, actually watching the grid, but his audio sensor's intently tuned incase the raptor gave him any warning before he attacked him if he decided to...His hand shook a little as he took another drink, warming his power core as he fidgeted guiltily.

Yet the raptor transformed in the hallway, locking his quarters door behind him (time to see how good his lock picking had become!), and the ship was silent....In his quarters, Dinobot growled softly; the walk had done little to improve his mood, but had at least stimulated his appetite, and he drank two glasses of energon before he noticed the slight off taste, but put it down to his damaged and recovering sense of smell....Primus damn pollen and flowers in general!

"Huh..." Rattrap waited and waited, then suddenly smirked, "I am good..." he leaned back and kicked a key on the console, bringing up a personal playlist he'd stored in Sentinel. Rattrap was by far more a fan of Human music if truth be told. Transformer music was nothing but a combination of sounds, mostly harsh, metallic ones, and no lyrics. Not that he'd admit to anyone he had any interests but explosives, but he had inherited a like for the sound of music from his Great Aunt Arcee and since he was the only one up, he felt like indulging himself for his cleverness at getting away with his scheme undetected.

Three more glasses later and the warrior was sated....though his head was definitely feeling strange, and sitting on his bunk didn't make the room slow down. The raptor had never even been a social drinker, and inhaling a good portion of pure plutonium was hitting him hard, all the harsher as he had begun to suspect something was wrong with his energon by the time the drunkenness hit...would the rat dare check on him?

By the time he'd gotten half way through the third replay of Helter Skelter he was a little unnerved. Surely there should have been some reaction? Maybe he'd just passed out in his quarters...that could be...

He unplugged the cord connecting his audio circuits to the console and listened closely. Nada. Damn, if Optimus found Dinobot passed out from plutonium, who was going to take the heat? Rattrap, of course! From more than one source, and Rattrap was far from keen on having his tail bent out of shape, or far worse, bitten off, if he was fingered as the perp. He got up and crept down the hall.

Silence from the raptor's room, and when he managed to get the door open, and peek inside, the raptor was, thankfully, on his stomach, on his bunk, looking rather passed out, and still....very very still...and the room reeked heavily of Rattrap's favorite drink.

"What the slag? Did he drink da whole container??" he whispered to himself. He squinted at the dispenser, trying to see how full it was.

He had taken down....half of it? Sweet Primus, on an empty stomach....of course, that might explain why he was so still....was the raptor even breathing?

He felt a jolt. Geeze, he couldn't have KILLED HIM! Then again, Rattrap was used to drinking a fourth of a bottle and had downed half in his nervousness about being found out. Dinobot, as far as he knew, had NO tolerance...great. He slid into the room, staying out of reach of the raptor.

The bot did not move, his optics off, face slack as if asleep....but there was no motion at all.

"One glass before bedtime, just one…anyone normal woulda drunken just one, maybe two, but not you, nooooooo" he half hissed under his breath as he moved warily closer.

Of course, Dinobot was a larger bot...and who knew how often he took in energon? He was hardly a social drinker either...still nothing, no movement, no hint he was even alive...

He hesitated then reached out and poked him, ready have his arm ripped off

Nothing. No reaction; and perhaps it was the room, or merely his worry of being found out, but the warrior was cold to the touch...

The fact that he hadn't lost an arm was actually worse than if he had. It made his core and spark turn cold as he gulped then reached out and grabbed the other bot's shoulder, shaking him, "Hey...HEY!"

Still nothing, no movement, no indication of breathing (of course, he was merely breathing very very shallowly).....was he really dead?

"Chopperface....Dinobot, snap out of it!"He shook his harder, on her verge of panic

He was certain by now, in an unreal way. Positive. Not only had the Maximals lost their best warrior and were now completely outnumbered, but he had killed him. He was worse than Megatron or Tarantulas or perhaps any of the Preds individually or combined because he had stupidly, unwittingly, killed a comrade, a fellow Maximal, a friend even. Rattrap felt violently ill from the concept and yet he couldn't deny it.

A low sound, almost a faint growl, escaped the warrior, as if moving the body had produced a death keel....and suddenly he was half sitting up, leaning against the wall, looking half dead still, though his optics were faint, and his speech slurred. "....think....something wrong....with my energon....dissssspensssor..."

He blinked, his optics brightening and he almost hugged him, "Geeze, I thought ya were dead!"

Dinobot looked at him, optics not focused, and shook his head, trying to clear it. No, he wasn't dead, thank Primus!....just very very drunk. "....vermin....fix it...isss...very strong..."

He stifled a snorted laugh of amusement and relief. This was definitely a whole new side of the raptor. "Uh, yeah I'll get right no that. No problem...you know…maybe you should lie down till ya feel a little better..."

"No...I'm fine." But he was leaning against the wall for balance, trying to focus still on the Maximal. "....you try some....see?"

"Nah, that's okay, I don't need.." he paused, realizing this would raise suspicion if he refused and sighed, taking a disposable drink container from the side of the dispenser and filling it, then taking a sip. To him, of course, it tasted watered down and not nearly so bothersome. He paused then took another drink, playing his part, "Yeah it is a little off..."

"Well, fix it, cheesssebreath....it'sss all we keep you around for." A low half growl, but the raptor was very very toasted. He was no real threat.

He snickered, shaking his head, "Thought it was for my charming personality..."

"Pssssh," growled the raptor. "Asss......as....as....much as the spidererer....no....no....he hassss more than you, cheessssebreath....get to work...."

He snorted then took another drink, finishing off the first glass then taking another to empty it out. "You know…yer almost funny like this..."

"Pssssh....thissss is your fault....damn Maximal machinery....can't make nothing rrrrrright...."

"Can't make nothin' right? Wow, even yer holy than thou vocab's gone down hill!" he snickered gleefully tossing back a second glass of the water

The warrior snorted, optics dim. ".....weak....weak usssselesss Maximal con....contraptions....stassisss pods crashing....worthlesssss transssport..."

"Now yer just bein' cranky, it ain't all that bad…besides we wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't fer you Preds,' he added sharply.

"Wouldn't be in thisss messs if Megatron knew how to read a map." There was still some slur in his voice, but with his optics off, he seemed able to concentrate more. "....or High Command....ssss....private essssexutions...."

"NO. We wouldn't be in this mess if YOU PREDS hadn't stolen that stupid disc! Yer all just a bunch of backstabbing boltbrains...shooting us down, stealing our pods, making overgrown pyromaniac ants and glitchy she-spiders and.." he paused and broke off what he'd been about to say

A low hiss from the warrior, though he seemed almost furious. "....no....if you....damn Maximals....weak little passssssifists thought more like Predaconsss....we wouldn't be in thisss insane war....ssstupid ssstupid Maximalsss and your damn High Command..."

He blinked, taken aback by his fury, then narrowed his optics, "If we thought more like you we'd have all killed each other off years ago 'cause the war woulda consumed all of Cybertron!"

"What's got yer gears in a grind all of a sudden anyway?? This war's been goin' on fer over a year now and all of a sudden yer all hot under da collar to blame us!"

"You assssked." Dim lights in the ex-Predacon's optics. Of course, the heavy drink had loosened his tongue... "....no....thought like Predaconssss....quessstioned authority....no...Maxi....Maximalsss blindly obey ordersss....take prissssoners in peacetime...no one countssss misssss....misssssing Predaconssss if the police forsssse is Maximal..."

He blinked, bewildered, "Wat da slag are you goin' on about now??"

"Sssstupid Maximalsss.....tell me....Ratface....where did you live, sss? Nice ssssub....place of Iacon? Not too many Predaconssss there...."

He blinked uncertainly, "Not exactly da subburbs..."

"Downtown?" A dark look from the drunken warrior. "No Pred.....Predacon sssscum there either...esssscorted out if any dared to sssstay too long..."

"Yeah...downtown...the low income district," he bristled a little as if Dinobot was going to make something of that.

"No Predacon ssscum there either, Ratface....or did you notissssse neighborsss much? No....no Predaconssss anywhere in Iacon....or Polyhessssssss.....or Cry.....Cryssssstal Citiesss either....too....too busssy with your femmesssss to notisse?"

He glared, "I noticed…since ya asked, its parta da reason we moved there when I was about Cheetor's age..." he trailed off, a little unsteady as the drink started to affect him but not ready to share quite that much yet.

"Of coursssee....nisssss....nisssssce neighborhood, no Predaconssss....all living....outside the cities....gone in many....sssss....areassss entirely....being weed...weeeeeded out....forced relosssscation...." A rough sound, like a laugh. "....High Command notissssed....stupid Maximals did not..."

He glared at him darkly, then turned back to cleaning out the dispensor, "Get ta da point..."

"...eventually....off Cybertron entire.....sssss.....sssstupid Maximalsss never quesssioned...only obey orders....High Command ssssaysss, move them to sub-Iacon....then out of Iacon....then off the sssssector grid....ssssome Predssss saw....the writing on the wallssss....left before forced reloc...locationsssss were in law....voted in by sssstupid Maximalssss."

He blinked uncertainly," So uh…where did they go then?" he asked uncertainly.

"Doesss.....doess it matter?" The warrior leaned more against the wall, supporting himself. "Megatron.....saw the writing.....found dissssentorss...ssssmall rebellion...found out too sssoon....very busssy newssss day.......dozensss executed...." Something that the rat might have heard of, just another passing news blip of some Predacon terrorists who resisted arrest and were killed in the attempt of arrest...

He hesitated then nodded, remaining silent for the former Predacon to continue.

"Ssstupid Maximals," he growled again. "....alwaysss....alwaysss obeying orderssss....nothing is my fault.....obeying ordersss....Megatron takesss the disssc...find energon ressserves...raise an army....retake the Homeworld....reloc....relocate High Command and stupid....sssssssstupid was only obeying orders Maximals....and gets us losssssst."

He smirked weakly, "Sounds like ole' Grapeface.."

"Sssstupid Maximals....." But even drunk, he would never reveal the true plot of Megatron: to undo time, to rewrite history, to give their ancestors the edge to win....to declare the past few centuries of loss and suppression and brooding extinction gone. "....wouldn't be in thiss messss if Maximalssss questioned orders....instead of....sssssshooting unarmed civiliansss..."

"Unarmed?? You're soldiers, renegade soldiers, our crew was just made up a' scientists and explorers!"

"...they didn't sssshoot usss, Vermin....or we wouldn't be here...." Then others, real civilians, families and unarmed Predacons just trying to make a living in Iacon and elsewhere...

He blinked,"Yeah well…" He stammered for a response as the truth sank in and his optics dimmed slightly, some of his strongest beliefs crushed.

"Yessss....well.....nothing." The warrior hissed darkly, his voice, oddly, for once mimicking. "Only following ordersss....wassss only following ordersss...." His voice returned to normal. ".....sssstupid Maximals can't......can't even make energon run prop...pop....properly.....and sssssssstassissss podss burn up on impact with air...."

"Ya keep goin' back ta dat..." he commented, getting a sneaking suspicion, then added casually, "Ya know...da way ya talk, it's like ya aren't even part of dis crew or don't wanna be...like maybe yer feelin' a little homesick fer yer old buddies...except you HATE them, er that's what you always said..but ya ain't never even settled in here. Dis room looks like before ya moved in all except for uh..." he nodded to the swords,"Those..." he glanced at the raptor skin,"Dat..which ...ew? Morbid much?"

"Pssss.....catch of the day, vermin....no....no loyalty to Megatron....idiot....idiot....disssshonorable plansss now....have no part of that...."

"Oh an uh...there's one other thing..."He added, feeling rather warmed and confident from the effects of the plutonium, getting unsteadily to his feet and wobbling over to the desk, picking up the purple shard, "Dis. Ain't exactly yer color...but I don't recall seein' it around before.."

Thankfully for the rat, the alcohol numbed the pain as the shard slid, cutting into his hand easily, breaking the weak armor as easily as a knife through air, the drunken warrior not even noticing, slumping over to lie on his bunk.

He blinked as a few drops of mech fluid and organic blood dripped on the floor. Why did that seem so familiar somehow? He held the shard up closer to his face, ignoring the distant pain.

The shard slipped further, dropping from his hand, nearly shearing off a finger at the base, clicking neatly on the floor, the warrior unresponsive, even to the gushing blood and mech fluid now puddling at the rat's feet.

He blinked, an alarm going off back somewhere in the conscious part of his mind as he opened the subspace compartment on his arm and took out a small med kit, wrapping his hand. Just like the raptor to keep something around that would slice into anyone curious enough to pick it up.

"Passss me a glass," growled the warrior suddenly. ".....you better not....have messsssed up my dissspensor, rodent..." Get him more drunk?

"I think you've had enough, Dinobutt.." he mumbled then smirked and almost giggled over his own lame joke.

"......I want to inssssure you haven't tampered with my dispenser!" Oh, too little too late for that!

He blinked then shrugged and filled up another glass, passing it to him as he glanced around; locating the nearly empty bottle he'd brought in with him and took another swig from it.

The warrior slowly sat up again, taking the glass after a few misses, and downed it at once; his optics flashed on, and stayed on weakly as he growled. ".....better...." And he managed to set the glass on the table, and then blinked. "....nnnnrgh.....where is it, you....thief....thieving mouse?"

"Where's what?" He swayed then reached out to steady himself, leaning against a wall at the foot of the bunk.

He was silent, for the moment, as if remembering what. "My....ssss....ssssscrap metal....where did you put it?" And he looked around quickly, optics bright, glowing when they fell on the small scrap of metal on the floor. And he rose unsteadily, beastmoding, landing nearly on his side from the effort, and stumbled over; even in his drunk state, however, he carefully picked up the piece without nicking himself, and managed to drop it on the table, scaled hands unmarred, and he laboriously coiled himself on top of his bunk, organic eyes misty.

He blinked, "Dat little razor bit? What's it for anyway?" He blinked again. Were the lights fading in and out? he shook his head then slumped down and sat on the foot of the bunk without asking permission or thinking about it

"It'ss.....it'ssss mine, rat.....don't you ever touch it." The raptor pressed his talons to the top of his head, finally feeling some more effects, the start of a hangover, and with a growl, transformed, lying facedown on his bunk, unmindful of the fact his transforming had kicked the rat to the floor.

"Ow! Hey!" he landed on his skid plates, glaring, then looked at his hand which had started to bleed through the bandage, "All I did was ask a question, ya don't gonna be so touchy..."

"....isss.....mine," repeated the raptor, but there seemed to be a new tone in his voice; he was not raging, but stating something. "....is....issss all mine....my fault....misssstake after missstake....and now.....he....he'ssss dead...."

Rattrap lifted his head, confused and surprised, "Who's dead??"

Dinobot did not look up from the bed, voice muffled slightly. ".....my fault.....sssshould....never have left him....at Darksssside...."

"Whos' dead?' he pressed, his optics wide. If any of the Preds had recently been scrapped it was news to him!

The raptor hissed softly, shifting to face the wall, back to the bothersome voice behind him. ".....mine.....my creation....I made him....my son...."

"What are you goin' on about now??" He looked at his, wide opticed. This was even more perplexing than the talk about Cybertron

"My son is dead," repeated the raptor softly, the grief clear in his voice. "....my son....my only son....should have never left him at Darkside, never...."

"Since when do you have a kid??" And who WAS he? He almost asked. He ran over a list of the younger Preds in his alcohol muddled head…Terrorsaur, Waspinator, Scorponok..but surely none of THEM could be related to Dinobot??

"Since......does it matter, he's dead." And the grief was clear in his voice, grief and guilt. This had to have happened recently though....the past month of the raptor being moody, always on patrol or in his room...

If his processor hadn't been slowed so much it wouldn't have been so hard to replay every encounter he'd had with Preds over the last month...which was basically none. That didn't rule any of them out. Make a guess? The raptor was being slow of offering information after all and if he'd been in beast mode his whiskers would have been twitching with curiosity"....Waspinator?"

"....what about the wasssssp?" Not him, then....but how could anyone leave their own blood in the enemy's ship?

"Oh good cause I uh...Never mind..." Well his Pred-parts collection was safe for the most part. "Scorponok, then, huh?"

"The slag are you talking about?" Asking for names was not working, at least....he could run down the entire Predacon crew. And suddenly, softly. "....a year ago. That'ssss when....a little over a year..."

None of the Preds were that young! Now he was really mystified, "Ya lost me, Chopperface. Really lost me...what happened a year ago? And don't say it doesn't matter. It matters, okay? Ya can't drop a bomb shell on me like this and not clear it up..."

"...ssssshouldn't have even touched the pod...." Choppaface had done what?

"POD?" His voice rose slightly, further shocked, "What pod?"

"Hissss pod.....ssstupid....ssstupid Maximal breaking sssstructures....damaged pod....landing on featherssss they'd sssstill break..."

"So you found a damaged pod...and then?" he pressed, trying to get him past insulting Maximal technology and onto the important part.

"Damaged....ssss.....data trackssss missing.....found the sssspider there." And silence, deep silence. ".....didn't ssssee him touch the pod....sssslagged him....too far from Axalon and sssstupid Maximal pod.....sssspark losssss in four cycles.....needed data tracksssss......shouldn't....ssssshouldn't have touched the pod at all...."

Rattrap blinked, silent, enthralled but waiting for the warrior to continue

".....gave it.....gave it my tracksssss......spark survived....protoform survived...." And a dark, almost anguished sound. "....he was mine.....he was.....and he.....transssformed....Pred...Predacon activation code.....the ssssspider got there first..."

Rattrap swallowed hard, then offered hesitantly, "Ya couldn't have known that..."

"Ssssshouldn't have touched the pod.....protoform....ssssurvived....went to Darkside...."

"If you hadn't it woulda died and ya didn't know its protocol chip had been switched." he paused, remembering one of Cheetor's remarks. Better dead than Pred? He couldn't bring himself to believe that though, when he thought about the situation.

The identity of this bot was still unknown, but this at least explained the raptor's change over the past month, his lack of interest in much anything, in any contact. A parent grieving for his son, but a secret child, a secret grief.....and he was dead now regardless. No wonder the raptor had withdrawn even further from the crew. Grief aside, to not tell anyone of this, of giving the Predacons a new warrior that carried half his strength...

Rattrap struggled with his initial impulse to rip into the Raptor for touching a pod to begin with but what he'd said was true. From the sound of it if he hadn't, the spark inside would have extinguished. And who was he to judge Dinobot's grief, having never been a parent even of an unexpected, unwanted child? " You shoulda told us..."

A low hiss. ".....yesss.....told Primal I let a protoform be reprogrammed and live? .....been trying to....rectify my missstake....alwayssss failed....now he'sss dead....could not....even try to get him from Darksssside...."

"The Bossbot woulda understood what you were trying ta do," he insisted, getting frustrated with talking to the bigger bot's back.

"Doessssn't matter.....he'sss dead....." If nothing else, the heavy drink had at least allowed him to grieve, rather than bottling everything up...

He sighed, "I'm uh...I'm sorry..." he paused, "How...how do ya know he's dead, anyway?"

".....missssing in patrols....over a month....overheard flyers talking....mantis is dead." Wait, that was his kid? The insane scientist, the one who had sent every Maximal to the R? .....though if memory served, Dinobot alone had never ended up being carried there in agony from toxins or poisons....he had been struck with discs, yes, but never as the others had, and even then, only in the past few months had they really been hit...

"THAT'S yer kid?" He almost squeaked, cringing. Purple discs! He looked at the shard then at his hand, wandering why the raptor would ever keep one of those things.

The raptor barely nodded....but there was nothing else in the room to indicate the raptor cared about anyone or anything, save for fighting and winning the war...but at some point he had started to care about the now gone mantis, his lost son....

He wasn't exactly sure he could understand the raptor's grief with all the damage the insane Pred had caused…but then, he reminded himself again he'd never shared a bond like Dinobot had with his son.

Of course, it was a weak bond at best, but if even the stoic raptor could care, even too late, for his own flesh and blood, perhaps there was something there....something that a parent saw in a child, even an evil one. Of course....Rattrap had never fully been in the Darkside, other than as a visitor....it was far too likely that the mantis, known offspring of the traitor, had suffered for his parentage, and perhaps part of the guilt was from that as well....and Dinobot was silent...

He sighed, looking at the metal plated floor, "Look, I won't...tell anyone er anything..." he paused. No response. Was he even listening?

Silence still from the raptor, and a low hiss, his breathing shallow.

He rubbed his optics, "I mean, cause obviously ya don't wanna talk about it..."

A low rumble, and the warrior turned over; his optics were off....the damn lizard was asleep! Hopefully starting to sleep off his hangover...but there was a trace of wetness on his face. Tears? Actual emotion from the lizardbreath?

He blinked some of his grogginess away in shock, "Ya gotta be kiddin' me..."

Thank Primus the raptor was asleep, or passed out....either way the rat was free to leave with his new information....while asleep, his snarling facade down, the warrior for once looked almost aged, old, with the look of someone who has made far more wrong choices than right, and knows it...

Rattrap felt a surge of pity for him, something he'd never expected to feel for the raptor. Ever. If it had been Cheetor, heck, most any Maximal, he'd have felt bad leaving him alone but with the raptor…

He paused looking at one of the raptor's hands then took it and squeezed it in kind of a supportive way.

No response from the raptor; at least he was deep asleep! .....still, if he had spoken the truth, Megatron's mission had been with some form of noble cause, if High Command really was weeding out Predacons, sending them from the Homeworld, or killing those who refused to go...what else had the stoic fighter lost, even before meeting with Megatron? And now refusing to work with the bot who had started the war, forced to side with the very people who worked with High Command, or had, who had no understanding....and to ice it all, the secret child, the murderous child, the perfect Predacon, now dead...

Of course, the rat could always ask and know when the other Maximals were homesick, or generally down....the raptor kept to himself, and from his drunken words, he held regret for his actions against the mantis. He had wanted him, had perhaps even intended to bring him to the Axalon, and the rescue would never happen now. Perhaps Megatron had killed him, or he had juggled the wrong toxins....and the raptor looked, for the first time, almost normal, despite the grief in his face, his curled up form. Some emotion that was not irritation or outright anger...but there was nothing Rattrap could say to even start to understand.

Rattrap sighed, half wishing he didn't know what he did, that he could just go back to thinking of Dinobot as emotionless and stoic. Normally he'd have said tough, that everyone suffered at some point. Or at least tried to pretend he believed that but the strong drink had had an affect on his emotion circuits as well and he felt pretty bad for giving the raptor such a hard time.

He turned to go then stopped. Or…was stopped. Damn. He stared at the raptor's hand now clenched around his cut one and struggled to pull it back. Nothing. Slagging Pred had a vice grip! He yelped in surprised as the raptor rolled over and jerked him off his feet in the process, pulling him onto the bunk...in fact on-top of Dinobot. Yikes…

Only then was his hand free, but from the change in breath of the raptor, he was not so deeply asleep...bolting would surely wake him!

He grimaced. Waking Dinobot up in this position was a sure way to get his head taken off. He'd have to hope he fell back into a deeper sleep

The raptor sighed softly, but was breathing shallowly; the hand that had been on Rattrap fell aside, and for several minutes, silence, save for the raptor's breath...and a sudden, strange, frightening pulse to the rat's spark.

He winced, shifting very slightly, trying to slide off the bunk and the bigger bot then froze. Was that flicker of light in his optics? he held his breath and didn't move an inch

The pulse at his spark was stronger when he moved....oooooh Primus, he'd heard of this, sparks not being discriminatory...but damn if his first piece of tail since Cybertron would be the raptor!

Had anyone asked, Rattrap would have been the first to label himself experienced in matters of spark melding. He'd had more of his share of femmes back on Cybertron and a couple of mechs as well, for Cybertronians, unlike Humans, had accepted male pair-bonding just as naturally as male and female since the ratio of males to females was considerably lopsided, one female for ever 19 males or so. Therefore it was only natural, since bonding with a male was truly no different than bonding with a female, that such occurrences would take place. However, in the rat's experience these had all been direct spark to spark contact, and very much of a conceptual and purposeful manner. If he had been informed of the existence of Destined Sparks, as was the romantized term, or sparks so keenly alike in nature that they were drawn to each other like magnets when given close proximately, armor removed or not, he would said it was heap of slag and the informer's processor was malfunctioning. Therefore he had little way of knowing what was occurring to him just now.

"Dat's it, I'm outta here..." he hissed, the fur on his beast mode parts standing on end as he looked at the door, thinking even getting taken apart piece by piece was better than this… well, okay, the sensation wasn't exactly terrible…or maybe he was just that disoriented. If he had been entirely honest, it was the most intensely pleasurable feeling he could ever have imagined. When a spark find's its match, after all, the bond between them produces sensations far superior to that of any common spark bonding.

Being drunk couldn't help either....and it was nice....all he needed to do was close his optics, and drift away....it wasn't that bad of a feeling...and why not ice the cake? He'd already gotten the raptor drunk, found out some deep secrets...why not take advantage of him, just a liiiiittle more? This was dishonorable, of course, and something he would feel shame for later, but just now the sensations overloaded his local and moral circuitry.

Which, being Rattrap, he had an excuse ready for. It had to be the alcohol because when he shifted again to try and pull away the sensation had grown stronger, and just...wow. It was like having his circuit board fried except it felt...well good wasn't a strong enough word and he wouldn't admit to more.

The raptor was silent, but his breathing deepened as he dropped into deeper sleep....oh, the sensations were nice....the rat likely hadn't felt anything like this since....well, they had crashed...in truth, never before.

Rattrap shuddered, his breath quickening a little, "Okay now it's really time to go..." But he couldn't seem to drag himself away. Maybe just another moment

And another, and another....the moments were very long, and very very nice...~go on, rats...just close your eyes and think of some nice femme....it all feels the same!~

His optics flickered off, lost in the sensations...and the next thing he knew...the sun was coming up.

Beeping from the raptor's computer alarm, but it did not startle him awake....the rat, on the other hand, having slept on the raptor all night....!

His optics blinked on, then he groaned as the hangover hit. "Ow..."

His spark was surely sore as well, but what was more alarming was a soft snarl from Dinobot, who rolled to his side....he was waking up!

Oh...SLAG...He scrambled away from him and fell off the bunk. Ow.

The raptor hissed, but did not move further....time to run, rat!

He scrambled for the door hitting the open panel

Primus, or someone, had to be watching over the rat; the raptor remained still, his systems finally working out the rest of his overcharged state, and the rat was able to flee....

***

Author's Note: My first slash fic! Whoopee!!! LOL Anyway, hopefully everything was in character on my part as I am solely responsible for Rattrap and my partner in crime, Taratron, is responsible for this spot on and well done representation of Dinobot. More chapters coming along soon, with luck. Tara has been very very busy over the holiday season and I miss her terribly but it is all understandable. Sadly, one can not make a living off fan fiction. As always my admiration goes out to her on her stunningly well thoughtout plot twists and her brilliant original character, Manterror, whom I have been in love with for the moment I met him in his premereing fic years ago. Without him and thus her imagination, this fic would not only not exist but be pitiful by conparision. I humbly bow to her genius.

Also, my congratulations to the ever enthralling Shockbox and her newest masterpiece, "The Scarlet Star", posted recently, which is not only the best slash fan fic I have ever had the privelidge of reading but perhaps one of the best fics I have ever read. I highly recommend it. it in in my favorites list. I also recommend her fic "The Little Details", which is very well thought out and certain tear jerker. All for now!