I own nothing. Tried to make this an interesting chapter worth reviewing, as I realize that I shouldn't have bitched so much in the last chapter about wanting reviews. Rather, I should earn them through my writing. Conclusion: If you like this chapter, you should review! (LOL, I'm not a review whore or anything… Stop looking at me like that!)
Time units;
Astroseconds = 8.33 sec
Klicks = 33.2 sec
Breems = 9.96 min
Joors = 13.44 hr
Cycles =3.486 days
Orns =20.916 days
Deca-cycles = 34.86 days
Vorns = 194.700616016427 years
Mega-Vorns = 194,700.6160164271
--
(Previously)
"Well," drawled Emmet finally, "that was awkward."
--
Rosalie stood, shaking almost imperceptible, recalling what Sunstreaker had shouted upon entering the Bay. Esme noted her lack of response, and approached her slowly, as one would an inured animal.
"Rose?" she began softly, turning Emmet's attentions to his wife.
"Rose, are you okay?" Emmet asked, walking up to her.
Rosalie said nothing.
They waited, then Jasper gasped, gripping his head as Alice held him close.
"What's wrong, Jasper?" whispered Alice, concern splayed across her face.
"Sunstreaker's waking up. He's panicking, he think he's somewhere else. Somewhere cold."
As if on cue, the golden mech screamed, writhing off the berth, hitting the ground with an almighty clang as he continued to bend about, shrieking loudly.
The vampires froze, staring at the crying alien, unable to wrap their minds around the aching mech. It was, Alice was certain, nearly an hour before help arrived in the form of a flush-faced, red-and-white CMO. Ratchet drew Sunstreaker up to him, carefully forced his chest panels apart to reveal the blue glow beneath them, and, opening his own to reveal a similar orb, pressed the two lights together. Sunstreaker slowly ceased squirming and trembled hysterically in the mech's arms, clicking softly in the back of his tracheal tubing.
Wheeljack entered only moments later, a tube hanging out of his crotch, leaking lubricant steadily as he opened his chest as well, quickly adding himself to the family bonding with Ratchet and Sunstreaker. The gold mech drifted slowly to sleep, and Wheeljack used his hand place the tube back in his crotch, putting the cover back over it and letting it 'click' into place.
"Ratch?" Wheeljack whispered, his voice straining against the fear that rose too quickly.
"Jack, fuck it. I can't keep this up. I can't wait until Prowl gets his fucking act together," Ratchet breathed, shaking angrily, "I can't keep hoping my sparkling is alright when I know he's not. I can't keep ignoring Sunstreaker, and Primus fucking slag it all, I won't wait for him to die!"
"Ratch, I hear ya, but what can we do?" Wheeljack replied softly, normally blue optics tinged purple around the edges.
"We can bring him back."
The declaration had not come from the distraught medic, but, in fact, from the determined female standing in the doorway, Carlisle at her side.
Bella's gaze met Ratchet's, and she continued, "If Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are bound to each other, then shouldn't we be able to find where the Decepticons are keeping him? And from there, Sunstreaker and I can break in and rescue him while you two distract them."
"O' course we know he's at th' 'Con's base," murmured Wheeljack, heavily considering the idea. "An' Sunstreaker'd be able t' find 'is brother anywhere. If ya could slip inta th' lock -- and ya look small enough ta do it -- you could break th' mechanism holdin' it shut, an' Sunshine here could get 'is bro out. Ratch' an' me c'n do jus' fine wit' the cover fire, so that shouldn't be too big of a deal an'--"
"No," came a voice from the table where the vampires had been silently watching for the past few minutes. Edward stepped forward, expression pained, and spoke, "Bella, I know I have no right to ask anything of you right now, but--"
"No, God dammit, you don't, Edward. Sideswipe took care of me when you weren't there. He stayed because I needed him, which is more than I can say for any of you," Bella sighed, meeting Edward's stunned gaze with a passion he had rarely seen in her eyes. "I loved you, dammit, and you left me. Understand that much, Edward. Before you left me, I would have done anything -- climbed mountains, lived underground, died or lived -- for you, but it wasn't enough to keep you here, to keep you with me. Now? I don't know what I would or wouldn't do for you, because I'm not even sure if I love you any more. You have no control over me, do you hear me? Zero, zilch, nada. If I want to gamble my life for Sideswipe, then God dammit, I'm gonna gamble and there isn't a single thing you can say about it."
Ratchet smiled slightly at the girl's proclamation. It had seemed to him, as he listened, that this had been a long time coming. He thought of his relationship with Wheeljack, where both understood the deadliness of each other's work and accepted that, while they'd rather not have their lover and bond mate play dice with their life, it was their life to play with and they both respected each other in that matter. However, it had appeared to Ratchet that the Earth boy didn't understand that to have a loving relationship, he had to allow Bella some breathing room.
"Bella, please, reconsider --" pleaded Edward.
"No, son," Carlisle chimed in, placing a hand on Bella's shoulder. "We already messed up with Bella once. We didn't listen to her. We hurt her. I'm not doing that again, as I, for one, believe Bella can save Sideswipe. And I'll support you no matter what you do."
The final comment was aimed only at Bella, who gave a small smile to the doctor as she nodded, confirming her ambitions.
"Well, then, that's settled. Wheeljack, take Bella to your lab and teach her how the lock mechanisms work," instructed Ratchet, taking command of the situation. "I'll take care of Sunshine and --"
"Wait!" called Alice, holding Jasper's hand. "We want to help, too."
"I'm afraid that would be unwise. As you and yours are the ones the Decepticons are after, we cannot run the risk of them obtaining one of you," countered Ratchet.
"There must be some way we can help," offered Esme hopefully.
"Anything, something, please," begged Rosalie, wiping her dry eyes. "Please, Ratchet."
All eyes were on the teen as Ratchet inquired, "Why do you want to help?"
"Because..." Rosalie paused. Bella was an obnoxious snot by her own rights, but she'd finally stood up to Edward, someone so much stronger than her. It was something she hadn't been able to do when she was human even to another human. Even if Bella was a snot, she was a semi-respectable one. And she didn't need to know. None of them did. Rosalie continued, "Because no one should have to go through what Sideswipe is."
She felt Emmett's grip on her hand tighten slightly and affectionately and gave him a meek smile. He knew. He understood.
"Alright, I suppose you can maintain communications via the info room. We'll need any intel we can get, so you'll need to tell us what's going on everywhere. On base, around us, with Sunstreaker and Bella, everything," prompted Ratchet.
Turning to Ratchet, Edward found the voice to ask, "Please, let me go in Bella's place."
The red and white mech glared at him and replied, "That would be utterly counterproductive."
"I don't care! They can have my DNA if they want it so badly! I won't let them hurt Bella!" he shrieked in return.
"That's not your call to make, Edward. So either go with Ratchet and help us, or shut up and get out of the way."
This new, strong Bella was a stranger to Edward, who had always thought her to be a tentative girl, one who hung onto every word he spoke like a prayer. He could predict a fair amount about that Bella in that he knew that, whatever he did, she would accept it with a quiet nod and a soft smile. But now that a fire seemed to have wakened in her blood, a passion he had scarcely ever encountered, he didn't quite know what to do. He knew he loved her, and that he would do anything for her, but he didn't know how to protect her when she wouldn't even talk to him.
'Maybe,' he thought cynically, 'she's finally realized I am not what is best for her. Maybe, when she has returned from her rescue, she will leave me. Maybe she will have children, and become president, and stir all American hearts to such an ardent affection for her that they will follow her into an age of prosperity and knowledge as has never been seen on this Earth. Perhaps she should...'
"I --" Edward choked slightly, then started again, "I'll help however I can."
And Bella nodded as Ratchet took the vampires away to his quarters to teach them to use the com links and vid cameras.
--
(A bar in Yuss, Two orns earlier)
The mech wasn't particularly handsome. He had no wings, nor any other outward show of flight capabilities, nor any wheels, nor any weapons, nor any sign that any part of his physiology was transformation capable. He was a lackluster blue, with several small dents and scrapes where time had worn at his body and a poor economy had worn at his bank account. He sat at the end of the bar, nursing a cube of cheap, low grade energon, ignoring the conversations around him which ranged from the poor weather to sexual preferences to favorite cities.
He would have peacefully continued to ignore the inane chatter had an obviously overcharged white mech not plopped himself down next to him, slapped him hard on the back, and ordered a round of drinks for the both of them.
"Heya, pal," began the swaying mech cheerfully. "You look like you could use a friend. And a lay. I can do both."
The bot pointed proudly at himself and the blue bot rolled his optics.
"Aren't you a little young to be this overcharged?" he asked politely, nodding at the white bot.
"Who, me? Nah, I'm a pro at this stuff. Name's Highrise," he replied, confident in his ability to woo anyone in the bar. The bartender brought the drinks and set them down before the two mechs.
"Interesting. But, may I ask why a bot like yourself would be looking to me for such pleasures?" an intelligence in his voice bespoke of years of studies in such high-class places as the Towers of Iacon. It was utterly lost on Highrise.
"You look familiar. I can't exactly... hey, wait a klick! I know! You look like that bot on all the news feeds! You know, that bot that escaped Fort Skyk's mental insti... isn't... instutu... place," he finished, giving up on the difficult tetra-syllabic word.
The blue bot's optic ridges rose so slightly it would have been imperceptible to a sober bot. His head cocked to the side in pseudo-curiosity, and he spoke, "Really? I have heard nothing of such a nefarious convict. Perhaps you would mind enlightening me? I should like to be able to protect myself in the event that I may meet him."
The white bot's face light up in excitement as he explained, "Well, apparently the bot, Cyberclock, or Cyberglitch, or something, is seriously messed up. Was in for canni... canta... carry... for eating bots. You see, he killed his own creator and ate his spark because, according to the crazy bot, he was being rude. Then he drank this other bot's energon for insulting this one femme in public. The bot's a fragging psycho."
The blue bot appeared to contemplate this for a moment before Highrise asked, "What's your name, anyway?"
He smirked, and to any who knew him, those that were now passed helping the naive, young bot, he looked positively malicious. "Why don't we retire to your home and I shall teach it to you, slowly and personally?"
Thinking he was finally getting laid, Highrise led him out the back and through several alleyways before they reached his small apartment. They entered through the front door and went to his room, where Highrise showed the blue bot his berth, offering him a drink.
"No, thank you," he politely declined, gazing intently at the white mech. The room's light had a faint red tinge to it, and while it did little to his appearance, Highrise's purity seemed somehow lessened in the accusing glare of the light. "Perhaps you would like to begin our lesson now, Highrise? You need only lay down, I have taught this may times before."
Thinking himself lucky for having found such a skilled mech, Highrise laid on his back, closing his eyes in anticipation.
A sharp pain in his neck left him offline.
--
When Highrise came to, his wrists and ankles were chained to the bed with stasis cuffs, and he was unable to so much as squeak. The blue mech sat, straddling his chassis, with a vibro-blade in his servo.
"I do not wish to kill you, Highrise, but I'm afraid you know far too much already, and I cannot have anyone finding me in Yuss. As I rather appreciated you naive, kind approach to me, I have off-lined your pain receptors. You will feel nothing," elucidated the mech, making an incision in Highrise's chassis to showcase his point.
Highrise made no outward sign of acknowledgement. He couldn't.
"Now, I would like to explain a few, small things that might have prevented your death," began the cold-sparked mech, dragging the blade along the edge of his spark casing. "First of all, little sparklings should learn to keep away from the bars. Big, bad mechs, serial killers, rapists, and worse live for places like these. Secondly," and at this he makes the first incision at a corner of the silvery box housing Highrise's spark, "you are not a whore. You are not a rent mech. Neither are many of the mechs and femmes in the bar. You will not approach them with the outright goal of interfacing. It is impolite, and the reason you are now on your death bed."
He let the blade finish prying open the spark casing, and licked the energon off of it, savouring the enzymes of fear, of an adrenaline-like substance, and pressed his lip components agains his audio.
"And third," he continued, whispering sweetly, the spider's last words to a dying fly, "Don't talk to strangers." And he ate his spark.