Chapter 49

...hey, look! I'm alive. :)

I don't own Transformers, but if I did, I wouldn't be sitting at a keyboard at the moment, I'd be off telling Michael Bay what to do.

The concept of carrying belongs to Litahatchee from her story "Night Fire". :D :D :D

Well, WID is winding down. I hope the next chapter won't take as long as this one, but I've been second-, triple-, and quadruple-guessing myself on this one. I want the ending of this chapter to be just right.

Jazz approached the medical bay cautiously, glancing around the darkened hallways. It was eerily quiet on the ship. During the few hours he had been aboard, he had become accustomed to the soft groan of metal supports settling, the noises of electrical components humming, and the flickering of the lights. But now, the ship was completely silent, almost as though it had been holding its breath.

Something was happening somewhere, and Jazz did not like not knowing.

Nightshade had left him a highly coded message on a data chip sometime last night. She had left it on the edge of a crate in the storage room he had entered the ship through, and he had almost missed it. It only said to come to the medical bay at a certain hour, and the time had come. He briefly pondered if it was a trap, but there was a footnote at the bottom that contained information that only he and Nightshade knew.

He put his systems on high alert once more. Unnecessary systems shut down completely as his most potent scanners booted up, leaving him with a colorful medley of information before his optics. Temperature, air pressure, and electrical components were all highlighted and color-coded in his vision. A lesser mech wouldn't have been able to process the information. He was as silent as a ghost as he moved down the pitch-black hallway toward the blinding white doorway of the medical bay.

His spark leapt when he heard soft whimpering. It was Nightshade. Jazz instantly brought a powerful, arm mounted cannon out of subspace. His thoughts immediately went to the worst. Jazz had only seen little Streak once, but his own need to protect and nurture had materialized during those short minutes. If Emirate had so much as looked at Streak incorrectly, Jazz would slag him where he stood. He may have not been Streak's sire, but he had come to adore the little sparkling, especially since he and Prowl could not have one of their own.

He did a heat sensor sweep of the room first, crouching down as he did so. A smaller, less intense smear of reddish-purple was huddled in a corner. The lesser source of heat was Nightshade. He noted with a sinking spark that her temperature was almost fifty Kelvin below normal.

The brighter yellow-white mass on the ground was a large mech. Jazz paused. The only mech on board was Emirate. Disregarding his safety, he barged into the room, his weapon trained on the motionless mech. What he saw shocked him to his very core.

Energon had pooled around Emirate, congealing slightly in the cold, dry air of the medical bay. Nightshade had severed most of his wiring, disconnecting anything that she deemed unnecessary for his survival. He knelt beside Emirate, scanning the damage that Nightshade had inflicted upon him. Emirate was most certainly neutralized. Jazz winced and glanced up at the femme before standing and hurrying over to her side. He hen knelt beside her, and touched her shoulder. She didn't respond to any of his verbal or physical prompts.

Jazz wasn't a physician, but he knew that those were not good signs. He knew basic field dressing, and he knew the signs and symptoms of shock. He immediately pulled Nightshade into his arms, turning all of his heat exhaust to the vents in his chest. He almost swore when he felt how cold she was. How had she gotten in this condition? She had been properly fueled that morning, and she wasn't injured. Perhaps her processor had shut down parts of her programming to conserve heat. She whimpered quietly, clutching at the welds on her abdomen. Then he realized that the medication was wearing off.

"Jazz to Command Center," Jazz said, hoping that the ship's defenses had already been taken off line. He was surprised when his message went through. Emirate must have been linked to the ship, and with his temporary deactivation, the ship's defenses must have gone down as well. He didn't know, and he did not care. Prowl responded, his door wings twitching at the sound of his mate's voice. Nearly instantaneously, all chatter and movement in the command center stopped. It was eerily silent.

"Jazz. It is good to hear from you. Status?" Prowl asked, subtly motioning for someone to call Prime. Blaster silently sprinted out of the room.

"I'm doin' well, but I can't say the same for Nightshade," Jazz said quietly. Prowl heard a crash and whirled around. Ratchet had run headlong into Prime's chest and fallen to the floor in a dazed heap. Prime helped Ratchet up, and restrained him at the same time. He lifted Ratchet up off the ground by the arm when Prowl had repeated what Jazz had just told him. Ratchet had gone on a fearsome rampage when Nightshade had been taken from him, and now that his infant was involved, things could turn very deadly, very quickly. There were important humans about to visit the base, and Optimus did not want to explain to the Secretary of Defense why his people were nothing more than greasy, bloody smears on the bottom of Ratchet's foot.

"What is wrong with her?" Prowl asked sharply, his optics glittering angrily. Emirate had sworn not to touch either femme, at least not until the deadline. If Emirate had harmed her, or Primus forbid, little Streak, he would have the entire base screaming for his energon. Prowl would break his promise to Ratchet and tell every mech and femme, Cybertronian and human, of Emirate's acts of cowardice. So far, less than a dozen mechs knew of the sparkling, and they had been sworn to silence. If the news leaked out, there would be a mob after Emirate. Prowl's hands clenched into fists.

"She's gone into shock. The pain medication's wearin' off. She can't process the information right now. Her systems are starting to shut down under the strain. I'm doing what I can to keep her and Streak warm," Jazz said quickly, realizing that Ratchet had been listening. Ratchet began struggling in Prime's grasp, clawing at the large fingers wrapped around his upper arm. He swore loudly, damning Prime to every layer of Pit and giving him creative, albeit impossible, suggestions of what he was going to do with his scanner.

"Jazz, where is Emirate?" Prime asked calmly, ignoring Ratchet's threats. While Ratchet was a very skilled physician, Optimus highly doubted that he could get the scanner in the locations he had mentioned without some serious lubrication and a hack saw. Optimus shook Ratchet slightly, hoping to snap him to his senses, but it only inflamed the already temperamental mech. Ratchet began snarling loudly. Thankfully, Prime had restrained Ratchet by grabbing the arm that housed his formidable saw. Now all he had to worry about was the mech pulling a syringe from subspace and stabbing him in the arm.

"Nightshade neutralized him," Jazz said flatly, "even though I specifically ordered her to stay out of the way." Ratchet stopped struggling for a moment as he processed the information. Did Nightshade kill him? A bubble of morbid glee rose in him. He was so proud of his femme.

"He isn't dead, but he's pretty close to it. Of course, if you'd like me to, Prime, I could undo all of the welds and make it look like an accident - "

"No, Jazz. He will not die by your hand, nor by anyone else's. He will be brought to me. The Council and I will decide his fate," Optimus sighed, "Emirate will be brought back to base and repaired - no, not by you, Ratchet - by Red Alert. He won't be as biased as you or Moonracer. Will you be able to bring the femmes outside, or do you need an escort?" Ratchet scowled up at Optimus. His anger was starting to dissipate now that he knew his femme and sparkling were both safe. The ringing sound in his audio receptors went away, and the misty fog that had started to gather in his vision disappeared.

"Five minutes, Prime. Just me, him, and my saw," Ratchet asked desperately, giving Optimus his sweetest look - which, of course, did not work, for Ratchet didn't have a 'sweet' side to him. Period. Prime ignored him and set him down on the ground beside him. He gave Ratchet a stern glare, silently warning him not to move from that spot.

"On it. I've contacted Chromia. She's on her way now, but we need to get Nightshade back to the base as soon as possible," Jazz said. Nightshade had warmed up, but only by a few Kelvin. The femme needed to be placed under a heater at full blast for a few hours. She started shivering slightly, her support cables contracting to dislodge the condensation that had built up in her air conditioning vents.

"Very well. I'm sending the troops in," Optimus said, "and be careful - slaggit, get him back here!" Jazz jerked at Optimus's sudden roar.

"What happened?" Jazz asked, cradling Nightshade closer to him protectively.

"Ratchet's escaped and he's heading that way," Prime said, watching as Elita and her femmes followed, "and so is Elita. Jazz, make sure Emirate is kept out of her reach." Optimus gave up on trying to contact Elita. She had blocked him from the bond, leaving him a short text. It was better for her to ask for forgiveness than permission. Optimus sighed, and followed a moment later. Perhaps he would arrive in time to keep the femmes from annihilating the ship.

"Got it. Jazz out," Jazz said, shutting off the communicator. He picked Nightshade up, grunting slightly. She was surprisingly heavy for her slender size. Chromia met him in the hallway. She hovered over him nervously, which earned a small mote of amusement from Jazz. Chromia could hardly be called nurturing - her primary function was to kill, maim, and destroy. It was going to be very interesting to see her with a sparkling of her own.

"Chromia, please take her from me. I need to keep Ratchet and the rest of the base from tearing Emirate to bits," he said kindly, offering Chromia the femme. She nodded, ducking down to his level in order to take her from him. Jazz winced, rotating the arm he had wrenched while breaching the ship. Maia touched Nightshade's arm, ignoring the black glares she received from Chromia and Jazz.

"Dear Primus, she's freezing," Maia gasped, before hurrying over to a doorway. She pulled it open, muttering quietly as she went inside. Jazz kept a watchful scan on the femme. Chromia twitched nervously where she stood. In a fight, she would be much more useful than Jazz. No offense to the shorter mech, but she was the trained warrior. Maia came back out of the room, squeezing a thick pad in her arms. They heard several soft pops and stared in confusion as Maia shook the pad open. It was a portable heating blanket. Why Emirate had one, they did not know, but at the moment, they did not care.

"There, that should help," Maia said softly, standing on tip-toe to tuck the thick pads around Nightshade's body. She stood back and bowed her head respectfully. She was finished with her task and would wait for her orders silently. Chromia nodded as she felt the warmth radiate from the blanket. It wasn't much, but it would help keep her temperature stable.

"Thank you, Maia," Chromia said. Maia jerked back at the statement. She looked highly uncomfortable.

"Now, let's go. Ratchet's sure to be on a rampage," Chromia said, smiling as Nightshade's optics began to flicker back to their normal color. The femme was cold, but not as badly as before. Chromia made a note to have a few words with the femme regarding her irresponsibility and her health. That was, if Ratchet didn't blow her audios out first. Maia trotted after her Mistresses obediently. Jazz turned back to the medical bay.

"Maia?" Chromia asked.

"Yes, ma'am?" Maia asked, "do you require further supplies? We'll be coming up to another room in a few moments. I'm certain that I can acquire what you need from there."

"No, I don't need anything, but I am going to warn you. Ratchet is a kind mech, and he would never harm a female, but if he sees you near Nightshade or Streak, he will not hesitate to make you get out of his way," Chromia warned softly. Nightshade shivered again. Someone had said her name. She mumbled something quietly, shifting slightly in Chromia's arms.

"Are you coherent yet, you lump?" Chromia asked sternly. When Nightshade cracked her optics open, Chromia gave her a shaky smirk.

"Chromia? Where are we?" she asked weakly, "Why am I so cold?"

"We're leaving Emirate's ship," Chromia explained gently. The emotional stress and physical pain that she had gone through, coupled with the overwhelming need from Streak to finish his bond with Ratchet, was addling her processors. The femme was lucky to be able to remember anything within the past few cycles.

"Chromia? I'm cold. Why is it so cold?" she whispered, shivering. She took no note of the blanket wrapped around her. Her temperate was about twenty Kelvin beneath her normal range. It was still low, but much better than when Jazz had found her. Chromia sighed gently.

"I know, Nightshade. We'll be out in a few moments. Maia is showing us the exit," Chromia said. Maia hurried forwards to obey Chromia's underlying command. Maia turned the corner, coming face-to-chest with a very upset Ratchet. His optics gleamed bright blue, almost white around the edges. She instantly hissed at Maia.

"Maia, get behind me," she warned quietly, dropping to one knee so that she could place Nightshade on the ground. Ratchet growled quietly, stepping forward as the other two femmes retreated from him. Maia had her hands wrapped around Chromia's upper arm, watching fearfully. Ratchet knelt beside Nightshade and gathered her in his arms tenderly. He nuzzled her gently as he checked for physical damage. When he found none, he got to his feet, cradling her to his chest. Nightshade mumbled something quietly, and Ratchet shushed her.

Without bothering to look at or even speak to the other two femmes, he walked away, more focused on Nightshade than on anything else. Chromia slowly relaxed, but not before sending a short warning text to Elita and her platoon. She followed him at a safe distance, watching as the mech's anger slowly dwindled and died out. Ratchet focused on his mate. He could feel that Nightshade had brought up a complete block around Streak. He couldn't thank her enough for that small gesture. The little mech was in forced stasis, quiet and asleep so that his mother could take care of business. If she hadn't put up a complete block around Streak, he would be clamoring for them both. Ratchet would fritz, and he would most likely take it out on Emirate. At any other time, he would have had no qualms about letting his fists fly, but he wasn't going to risk having his mate and sparkling anywhere near the fight.

He walked out of the ship, the sun just starting to climb to its zenith in the cloudy sky. Red Alert hurried forward to scan Nightshade, but one nasty glare from Ratchet had him retreating to safety. Moonracer fared no better, though she did manage to get closer than Red Alert. He ignored Prime, Elita, and every other mech and femme as he walked back into the base.

He scanned Nightshade thoroughly. She needed painkillers and a spot of energon. But most of all, she needed rest and she needed him. He bypassed the medical bay. He had enough supplies in his subspace pockets to last her until she was awake and he had properly bonded with Streak. He would have Moonracer bring him supplies when he ran out.

For now, Nightshade and Streak needed him. The bond he shared with Nightshade was being strained due to Streak's arrival and his anxiety at not being able to bond with his sire, and it was hurting the three of them. If he didn't bond with his son soon...

Ratchet shuddered, pushing aside the thought. He couldn't think of the consequences.

He ran through his inventory quickly. With the supplies he had in subspace, he could tend to her needs in the privacy and security of their apartment. She was sure to wake up disoriented and confused, and the last place he wanted her to be was in the medical bay. It was sure to bring up painful memories for the three of them. He hefted Nightshade against his chest with one arm, quickly typing in his code before he dropped her.

Ratchet awkwardly climbed onto their berth, somehow managing to lie against the wall and cradle her to his chest at the same time. He used one hand to un-subspace a syringe and medication. As gently as possible, he injected her with the contents. He smiled when the painkillers took effect, and she relaxed against him.

After checking her welds, he scanned her internals. The patch on her fuel line had integrated with the rest of the line. He would have to look at that in a few weeks to make sure that it assimilated completely, but he would check in a few hours, and then every few days. Ratchet was not a mech to take risks with his patients, especially if that patient was his femme.

Ratchet kissed her forehead, content to wait until she woke up. He didn't have long to wait. Once her pain receptors had been dulled by the medication, her processor could reboot and process the information in gradual chunks. Her optics flickered white before powering up to blue. Nightshade blinked twice, pushing up on her arms slightly. When Ratchet's arms tightened around her, she looked up at him. She seemed to be very confused. She didn't speak for a long time as she looked around the apartment. Nightshade struggled to understand what was happening.

"Ratchet?" she breathed, raising her hand to touch his face plates. He drew her closer, his spark going out to hers when she started crying. She cried for a long time, occasionally reaching out with her spark to make sure that it really was him and that she was really safe. Ratchet did not say a word, preferring to use their bond to communicate. He enveloped her with his love, doing his best to push the fear and anxiety from her spark. She responded with every bit of love that she could. The intensity with which she responded surprised him, and he felt guilty - twice he had failed her, yet she still loved him? Nightshade clung to him, shaking as the reality of the past forty eight hours caught up with her.

For a few long minutes, her arms remained wrapped tightly around him. Her sobs eventually dwindled into the occasional sniffle. Ratchet kissed her again, rubbing her back plates soothingly. A winking light in his vision alerted him to a text message from Prime. He sent back a rather rude retort explaining why he wasn't going to take Nightshade to the medical bay, why he wasn't going to let her out of his sight, and why she wasn't going to give him her report on what happened in the ship. Prime did not respond. Perhaps he knew that if he continued to insist that he would have a mutiny on his hands. Moonracer sent him a text message asking for instructions with Chromia. He told her that she needed to be sent home with Ironhide. He then shut off the communication line.

Ratchet scanned Nightshade again. Her temperature was still low, but it was rapidly approaching a suitable range. Ratchet reached over and shut the heating vent off. She looked up at him. Their optics met for a few seconds.

"Do…do you want to talk about it?" Ratchet asked softly. She hesitated for a moment. His comforting presence never wavered, and she began to speak quietly.

"There isn't much to say, Ratchet. He…he took Streak from me, and-and that was when I re-realized th-that I would have t-to get us out of th-there," Nightshade said, her optics welling up once more. Flashbacks of the assault flashed through her processor. The silence as the blade arced through the air. The slight sizzling noise as it buried itself in his circuitry. The sickening gurgling as the energon pooled in his filters. Nightshade shuddered. He brushed her cheek with his thumb tenderly.

"I couldn't stop him, Ratchet, I just couldn't, I fought as hard as I could. I'm so sorry," she said, burying her face in her hands, her shoulders beginning to shake once more, "he drugged me, there was nothing I could do." Ratchet tightened his arms around her, his anger starting to flare back up. Emirate was a disgusting creature, and he was going to do everything he could to make sure that the fragger suffered for the rest of his very, very long life.

"Please don't be angry with me," she said quietly, misinterpreting Ratchet's anger.

"I'm not angry with you, love," Ratchet said, alarmed at her train of thought, "I'm angry with his cowardice. I know you would have killed him if he had tried to take Streak from you if you were awake."

Something he had said must have upset her. She began bawling in earnest. Ratchet immediately reached to her with his spark, comforting her. She ignored him.

"Love, what's the matter? Did he…did he touch you?"

She began crying even harder. He barely restrained the angry hiss - what had Emirate done to her? He reigned in his anger for her sake, but on the inside, he was already plotting ways to get Emirate off of the base and deep into the forest where no one would hear his screams for help.

"What did he do, Nightshade?" Ratchet asked calmly. His grip tightened marginally. He had killed Starscream for his attempted assault on Nightshade, and he would have no problem killing again if Emirate had forced an interface link with Nightshade. Nightshade shook her head.

"H-he didn't t-touch me or Chromia," she whispered, burying her face into Ratchet's chest. He rubbed her back and arms gently.

"What did he do?" he asked.

"It's what I did…"

"What is it, love? You've not done a thing wrong," Ratchet said, holding her close. He was proud of her for taking the initiative to get rid of Emirate.

"I stabbed him. I tried to kill him. In the medical bay," she said, burying her face into his chest when she felt his overwhelming pride. He shushed her softly, instantly understanding her anguish. He had been very strict with his rules on doing no harm. He winced when she began crying even harder.

"Nightshade, he threatened to kill our son. He threatened to make you one of his consorts. He threatened to force Chromia to bond with him. And you know he would have done it. You were merely defending yourself and our son. You saved Chromia from a horrible existence," Ratchet said as gently as his could. She continued crying, ignoring everything that he had said. Ratchet bit down a mote of impatience. Nightshade was very emotional, even for a femme. He counted slowly.

"You did what you had to, Nightshade. You spared his life when I would have gladly taken it. You're a better physician than I am," Ratchet said tenderly, hoping his words would calm her a bit. Instead, she began wailing even louder.

"I-I-I'm a mon-monster, I'm horrible, I don't deserve t-to be a physician l-like you!"

Ratchet kissed her again, waiting for her to calm down once more. She quieted down in just a few minutes. His words were starting to make sense to her. He never once let his impatience and irritation flow into their bond. Instead he only showed her his love and pride. She sniffled, wiping at the wet streaks on Ratchet's armor.

"S-sorry," she mumbled.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Nightshade. You did everything in your power to keep our son safe, and I couldn't ask for anything more," Ratchet said softly. Nightshade nodded, tentatively immersing herself in their bond. She expected to find disgust and disappointment in what she had done, but he had been completely honest with her. He had nothing but love and pride for her.

"You're not upset with me?" she asked. Ratchet shook his head.

"No, I'm not upset with you," he responded. Nightshade nodded, relief flooding her at his positive feedback. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Though their bond had been interrupted for a mere two days, it had felt like an eternity for them. They took their time in exploring their bond.

"Could…could I see Streak?" Ratchet asked quietly, his fingers drifting down to her chest plates. She nodded, allowing Ratchet to help her sit up. She straddled his legs, bracing herself on his chest with her hands. She took down the block around Streak. Almost instantly, Streak's processes came back on-line. He gave a disapproving whirr - he was well aware of what she had done. He had been minding his own business, playing a game by himself, and all of a sudden, he went off line. How rude! He tapped on the side of her carrying chamber, trying to get her attention. Nothing. Streak tried to access her spark, but there was no reaction from her. Something was in the way. He tried again and again, but he could not access her spark. He pouted and screwed up his face plates, getting ready to throw a mighty tantrum.

The bond suddenly flowed open. He immediately latched onto her spark, his tantrum forgotten. There was another presence there, reaching to him, but he did his best to hide from it. He recognized it faintly, but couldn't quite place it. That presence had been there when he had been put into his shell, but who was it? The warmth from the presence washed over him. His mother nudged him towards it.

Well, if his mother said it was okay…

Streak reached to the other presence. Was this father? He wriggled, clearly excited. There was no doubt in little Streak's processor or spark - this was his sire! He immediately picked up on their interrupted bond. Ratchet sighed happily as his son's presence began to integrate into his spark and processes. The pain in Ratchet's spark dissipated. His spark was complete now. Only a few short minutes later, Streak withdrew. He was finished bonding with his father, and now he wanted out of his mother's carrying chamber. He kicked out irritably. He was tired of the cramped (but comfortable) space in her chest.

"You might want to hold your hands out," Nightshade said, the corner of her mouth quirking up. Ratchet, not understanding, held his hands palm up between them. She guided his hands higher, almost in the dead center of her chest plates.

"He might just be a flier when he grows up," she said dryly. Ratchet still did not understand. She opened her chest plates partway, wincing when Streak came flying out of her carrying chamber. He only fell a few inches, for Ratchet had moved quickly to catch the blue blur. Streak landed on his stomach. He began twittering wildly.

What were those red things wrapped around him? Streak tried to get up, but found that his hands kept slipping between the fingers wrapped around him. He gave an impatient squeak. Ratchet froze, unable to do more than stare at the tiny little mech cupped in his hands. Nightshade smiled as she helped Streak and turned him over. He clapped his hands happily when he saw his mother. Streak soon began to whimper quietly - it was cold and he didn't like being held so far away from a solid surface.

"Hold him to your chest, Ratchet. He's cold," Nightshade said. Ratchet shook his head, holding Streak back out to her. The sparkling squeaked in surprise at the sudden motion. He grasped the nearest thumb and slowly dragged himself up. Streak whirred unhappily as he peered over the edge of Ratchet's cupped hands. It was a long way down.

He glanced back up at his father. Whoa, this mech was giant compared to momma. He was just reaching for Ratchet's face plates when his mother picked him up. Streak began squealing angrily. He was happy where he was, and began to wriggle in her hands. Her grip tightened when he nearly wriggled out of her grasp. Streak glanced down at the slender blue hands gripping him. He contemplated biting her, but he went still after a moment. He was very unhappy with his mother, and he began to pout quietly. Streak reached for his sire's spark, begging to be picked up and held. A small smile quirked the sides of Ratchet's lip components when he felt the silent plea.

Oh, yes. His son had most definitely taken after Nightshade.

"Put your hand out. Palm up," Nightshade said, allowing no space for argument. Ratchet obeyed. He watched as Nightshade set Streak into his hand, steadying the little mech by holding him underneath the arms. Streak glanced around, his little blue optics wide with wonder. He held his hands up to Ratchet. He wanted a solid, steady surface, and his poppa's chest would do wonderfully.

"Now put your other hand behind him. Support his upper body and shoulders. Just like that. Now hold him to your chest." Ratchet obeyed once more, but kept Streak a few inches away from his chest. He didn't want to squish his son. Nightshade pushed his hands towards his chest slowly. Streak chirped happily when Ratchet turned on the heating coils in his hands. It was so warm and toasty here!

Ratchet's spark swelled with happiness when Light Streak curled up against his chest plates. He kissed the top of his head, smiling when Streak responded with a soft gurgling noise. Nightshade leaned forward, still a bit nervous about seeing her sparkling being handled by anyone else. Ratchet kissed her as well, drawing back when Streak began patting his chest plates, trying to get his attention. Streak wanted to be held directly over his father's spark, so he reached upward. Streak warbled happily when Ratchet raised him up a little higher on his chest plates. Streak squeaked quietly, shuttering his optics as he immersed himself in his bond with his creators. Within moments, he was recharging soundly.

"You're safe, little one," Ratchet murmured quietly, more to himself than to anyone else, "it's over now."

ONE MORE CHAPTER.

gosh.