Chapter 23
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers in any way, shape or form. I only own my OC's.
Oh , just a warning: Nightshade is a bit weepy in this chapter. She and Ratchet have to get past their trauma before they can…uh…reestablish their bond…(and I have some pretty steamy ideas for that, too :o)
For the love of Primus, ff, don't delete my important stuff. :O
EDIT: I added a few lines. I also seperated two paragraphs. Stuff got bunched up. There were a few words that slipped past my spell check. (simmers quietly). There were a few verb and subject disagreements.
And my apologies to Litahatchee. :)
Carrying belongs to Litahatchee.
And thanks to Silveriss for letting me know that I should mention what I edited. :D
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The first week was torture for Nightshade. She woke in the medical bay, a bright light shining into her optics. Ratchet was slumped over the edge of her recharge berth, deep in recharge himself. She tried to access his spark, but she couldn't feel him. She was alone. Dread settled over her joints as she repeated the action, only to come to the same conclusion. Panic seized her systems.
Soft weeping startled Ratchet from his recharge sequence. He shot up quickly, wincing as he did his best to ignore the painful protests of his badly damaged body. Reaching toward the crying femme, he spoke softly.
"Nightshade, what's wrong, love," he said, trying to wrap his arms around her. She only clung to him, desperately trying to reestablish their bond. It didn't work. Her spark only continued its happy fluttering in its box, ignorant of Ratchet's presence.
"I-I can't feel our bond," she whispered, nuzzling his chest plates softly. He only rumbled softly, stroking her back gently. Ratchet sighed softly, almost inaudibly. Nightshade was vulnerable without their bond, both physically and mentally.
"…I know," he said quietly, wincing as her weeping continued again. Ratchet only held her to him tightly, whispering into her audios, promising her he'd find a way to fix it and things would be okay. But somehow, deep down in his spark, he knew it would be near impossible – if their sparks didn't recognize one another now, they probably never would.
"Is…there any way to fix it," she whispered softly, her grip around him tightening.
"I…I honestly don't know." Ratchet felt something warm slide down his plate cheek and he wiped it away angrily. He had failed to protect her…it was only fitting that the one he loved the most was gone, but at the same time, nestled safely in his arms.
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The second week was less painful as Nightshade accepted the fact that she and Ratchet were no longer bonded to one another. They shared the same quarters, still, but she could feel the distance between them slowly growing. He spent more and more time in the medical bay and she in the command center. He was often in their shared berth hours after she'd gone into recharge and gone before she woke.
Ratchet wasn't blind or deaf. He often lay awake listening to his former mate cry softly in the bathing room, thinking that he wouldn't hear. But he did hear her, no matter what he did, even if he shut his audios off. The distance between them grew even though she stood by him. Ratchet tried talking to her but the pained and hollow undertone of her voice simply broke him, and he could speak no longer.
They were both confused and lonely, trying to come to terms with what had happened those many nights ago. Nightshade even voiced her fears to Elita. What if he doesn't want me anymore, she had asked, her optics staring, unseeing, at the clasped hands in her lap. Elita had only embraced her, whispering quietly to not say things like that, and that things would get better. And then Nightshade asked when, and Elita could not answer her question.
Ratchet withdrew even further into his shell, no longer speaking to anyone, even in the med bay. Ratchet couldn't come to terms with what he had done – he had killed a fellow Cybertronian, a fellow scientist, and…someone he'd known and been good friends with many, many years ago. Seeing those blood red optics, once sky blue, staring up at him, begging for mercy, and then suddenly going out…it was almost enough to drive him over the edge. Ratchet clenched his fists, feeling the familiar sensation of his tanks starting a purge program. The guilt and shame of what he had done caught up to him – why would Nightshade want someone like him, someone no better than a decepticon?
Little did he know that she did want him, but every night her love for him grew a little less as the pain in her spark grew a little more.
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Nightshade was in the med bay helping Ratchet organize some of the things in storage. It had been a slow day. No one had come in complaining of any injuries, which was a pleasant surprise but made for a boring med bay. She looked over at him curiously. He had a pained look on his face and his optics were quite dim.
Ratchet's spark was in turmoil. He was reliving the night where he almost lost Nightshade over and over in his processor. Ratchet could feel every second of her agony and pain, and her spark begging for his protection and he'd failed to do so, and then sudden cold nothingness as their bond was broken. He remembered every astrosecond after that – he desperately tried to fix their bond but he just couldn't – something was interfering with him reestablishing himself with Nightshade.
Ratchet learned the true meaning of terror that night – had he truly lost Nightshade to Starscream? He couldn't sleep at night and he couldn't refuel without purging his tanks. He, the medic, had mercilessly slaughtered someone with whom he had been close with.
-Start Flashback-
…He had Starscream by the throat, crushing his main fuel lines and severing a secondary energon line. The shimmering pink fluid gushed out of the severed line, a macabre waterfall of life-giving energy, drenching the red fist at Starscream's throat. The fluid continued down Ratchet's arm, dripping onto the grass slowly.
Ratchet remembered the look of pure terror on Starscream's face as he powered up his saw and raised it – it seemed to be an eternity before the saw made contact with his throat. Sparks flew as the sharp teeth of the weapon bit into the soft metal. A horrible scream erupted from what was left of Starscream's vocal modulators, startling Ratchet out of his rage induced blindness.
The world slowly sank into focus around him. He was conscious and aware once more, the ringing in his audios was starting to dissipate and then pain washed over his beaten frame – he was in agony. Ratchet looked down at himself – his arms and abdomen were almost in shreds, thanks to Starscream's claws. Ratchet was horrified at the devastation around him. The arm holding Starscream's throat began to tremble.
After a second, he dropped Starscream to the ground. He watched as the mech wearily sank to his knees, his clawed digits wrapped around the wound. He was trying to speak but Ratchet couldn't make anything out, the familiar fog of rage starting to cloud his computing center again. A loud ringing noise blocked his audios, and then everything went deathly silent, all of his self control gone. Starscream gurgled quietly, trying to staunch his bleeding. Out of pity for the dying mech, he slowly pulled his rifle out of subspace. His optics were glazed, unseeing, as he gazed down at the savagely broken mech before him.
Starscream shuttered his optics, waiting for the pity shot. Ratchet's finger twitched on the trigger and he pulled back gently, almost tentatively. The boom of the shot shattered the night. It completely obliterated his spark casing, sending the shards of spark-material flying through the air and into the tree behind him. Electric blue plasma rained from the now empty spark chamber, acid upon the grass below. The electrical discharge erupted from the gaping wound on his back, burning the grass around the fallen mech into cinders. All that he heard was a soft crackling noise as the electricity dissipated slowly.
The recoil from the rifle had snapped him from his rage and he looked around, confused. Why was he out here? What-he looked down at the corpse at his feet. He looked back up at the room where Nightshade was, having sensed her distress somehow. Ratchet saw the distinct silhouette of two mechs in the room and everything faded out once more.
The rest of the night came to him in bits in pieces. He vaguely remembered Elita speaking to him, saying something about Nightshade being terrified out of her processes. That was his first period of lucidity and then he remembered clutching her to his chest. After than, he heard the soft footsteps and he whirled around and he couldn't remember anything after leveling his rifle at Prime's head.
He remembered settling Nightshade into a surgical bed in the med bay. How he got back to the ARK he did not know but it didn't matter – she was critical and she'd gone into shock. Starscream had torn several vital bits and pieces from her chest, along with the other wires. Then Red Alert came into the room and he remembered no more, only a snarl erupting from his vocalizers.
The next morning, he woke up in a berth beside Nightshade, the remnants of a tranquilizer being flushed from his systems, and his entire body covered in fresh welds…
-End Flashback-
Ratchet shook himself from his memory as the door of the storage room swung shut. That was odd. He hadn't seen anyone enter the med bay. Nightshade immediately tried to open the door, slamming the button several times before she gave up. The door had been sealed from the outside.
"Fraggin' pit," she muttered quietly, glaring at the innocent little green button on the wall. Ratchet stood back and settled on a box, calmly sending a text to Red Alert. He received no response. He tried Optimus and Ironhide, and neither of the two responded. Two minutes and fourteen texts later found them both sprawled out on the floor. No one was responding, not even Bluestreak, who jabbered more than anyone else.
The silence that descended on the room was thick and awkward. Nightshade busied herself with trying to pick the lock but she failed. The door had been physically sealed shut from the outside. Then she growled and plunked back down on the floor. Ratchet started to speak but fell silent, unable to say what had been plaguing his computing center. However, Nightshade beat him to speaking what had been on both of their minds.
"Do...do you still want to be with me or not," she said softly, pulling her knee joints beneath her chin. Ratchet started, surprised.
"Of course I want to be with you, Nightshade!"
"…you haven't really acted like you want me any more...you're so distant..."
"What makes you think that I'd throw my love for you away?"
"You really haven't acted like you wanted to be with me, Ratchet! When was the last time we spoke? When was the last time you told me that you loved me?"
"Nightshade-"
"If you didn't want to be with me, all you had to do was say so. I would have left you alone," she said, her voice growing weaker as she finally voiced her fears. She shuttered her optics, unable to look at him. Shame burned her face and disgust made her nauseous as she realized just how selfish she sounded.
"I do want to be with you, Nightshade! Stop putting words in my mouth, because I never said that I didn't want to be with you. I'm trying to deal with the sins I have committed."
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Chromia, Elita, and Mirage both stood outside of the door. Smiles crossed their faces. The only way those two stubborn aft-heads would get over themselves and take care of one another would be if they were given a good push. Besides, the tension between the both of them could be cut with a knife. They smirked as the shouting grew louder. Any second now, Nightshade was going to burst into tears…Ratchet was going to feel guilty and scoop her into his arms…
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"I do love you, Nightshade! Will you stop being selfish for one fraggin' breem and look at what I've had to put up with?! I killed someone – someone who was my friend - out of rage! I don't deserve the right to live after what I've done-"
"Don't say things like that, Ratchet, you're upsetting me-" She slowly stood up, hugging her arms close to herself. She may have been upset but Ratchet was her lifeline. If something had happened to him, she probably wouldn't have been alive.
"And you don't think what you said to me was upsetting, Nightshade," he asked gently. Nightshade only looked away, unable to meet his optics. Ratchet leaned against the wall heavily, his knee joints starting to feel weak. He wearily wiped at his optics, fighting the familiar sensation of nausea.
"Ratchet, I'm sorry. Please forgive me," she begged quietly, her voice starting to waver dangerously. She bowed her head and bit her lip, sagging against a support beam. Ratchet looked up at her sharply, how could she say that? It was his fault that Starscream had almost violated her - he had failed at his duties.
"No, I should be asking for your forgiveness, Nightshade, I deserved those things you said to me-"
He was cut off by Nightshade launching herself into his arms, sobbing quietly. He only wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly to him. His spark rejoiced to be holding her once more and he tentatively reached out to her. He received nothing. Their bond was still broken. Crestfallen but optimistic, he spoke softly.
"Nightshade, forgive me. I let that monster hurt you and-"
"Ratchet-"
"-I didn't make it in time to keep him from hurting you, and it's my fault, Night."
"Ratchet, it is not your pit-slaggin' fault! You had nothing to do with the fact that we had a traitor somewhere on base! If there was anyone to blame it's Starscream!" She was growing hysterical.
"Night…"
"Be quiet! I can't believe you'd say something like that, you're not a monster! You saved me from him, Ratchet! Do you know why he picked me, instead of some other femme?"
She ignored his weak protest and continued, fury blazing in her optics.
"The only reason he picked me is because my spark-frequency was close enough to his for him to try and bond with me! He would have failed! He wouldn't have risked…I…I did something terrible. He would have failed. You know why?"
"Nightshade, please…"
"I corrupted my spark chamber and carrying files so that he couldn't touch me without my systems failing, that's why!"
"Nightshade, I still should have arrived sooner…I should have been able to do something…," he protested weakly, stroking her back tentatively. She leaned into his embrace. The puff of air that she let from her cooling systems seemed to be too large to be coming from her tiny frame.
"No, you couldn't have come any sooner! Ratchet, I'm sorry…I'm so, so sorry for what I've done…" Nightshade's tears made new tracks down her face. At the abrupt 360 in her tone of voice, Ratchet blinked in confusion.
"What's the matter, love?"
She looked up at him, her optics watery. Her mouth moved but no words came out. She shuddered before burying her face into his chest armor and trembling. Ratchet wrapped his arms around her, soothing her gently. He knew what she had done…but they didn't know the extent of the damage done. Chromia had finished destroying the file with thirty seconds left to spare, and her systems had started to crash.
"Night, please tell me what's going on…"
Even though her words were muffled, he still heard each word. Pure agony made her tremble in his arms and he reflexively tightened them.
"Ratchet…my carrying files were corrupted."
"Nightshade…"
"I don't even know if I can give you a sparkling now, Ratchet. Do you know how much that kills me inside to know that I will probably never conceive?"
Ratchet only hugged her tightly, fighting the trembling in his voice.
"Nightshade…"
"Ratchet, I'm sorry..." She tried to pull out of his arms but he held her tightly.
"No, I'm not letting you go. I'm never letting you go, you hear me?"
She nodded silently, basking in Ratchet's warmth. After a few silent minutes, he spoke again, though softly.
"Nightshade…?"
"Yes, Ratchet?"
"Is there any way I could convince you to become my mate once more?"
"Ratchet…why would you want me? I'm defective," she said quietly and bitterly. Ratchet's arms tightened around her almost painfully and she squeaked in surprise, looking up at him.
"Never say something like that again. Having you in my arms is more than I will ever need," he hissed quietly, his optics glowing brightly. She only laughed bitterly.
"And what then, when it's a thousand years down the line? What will you do then when you realize that you bonded yourself to a barren femme and you'll never have a sparkling of your own?"
"Nightshade, you are perfect the way you are. I will not tolerate you saying things like that. I can deal with not having a sparkling, Nightshade. I didn't bond with you because I wanted an heir," he hissed once more. Nightshade only buried her face into his chest.
"Do you honestly mean that, Ratchet," she asked quietly, staring at the blank wall beside them.
"Yes," he replied, a little stung that she would question his honesty. She only buried her face into his chest, hardly daring to believe that he would want her.
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(ducks bricks thrown by audience)
Yeah, yeah, I know. It's a happier ending than what I had originally planned. Y'all better be glad that the Smut Fairy inspired me to write something else. Heh heh heh.