The Complications of Life

By: Nightelfcrawler

Disclaimer: I do not own, merely covet adoringly.

Authors' note: This is a re-telling of the movie-verse, given that do not assume any of it happened the same way. I'm writing from scratch with all new secrets. And while certain characters have been included, do not assume end results.

Apologies on the lateness of this chapter. I was in a writers block for a while… despite this story is written nearly to it's end I was just being lazy and not reviewing it to post more :p

Warnings: Contains a background of slash relationships.

Chapter Eight


The name meant nothing to her, but she found it oddly fitting. It was a fierce name, and there was a sharp edge to him which matched it. However, she was not lax in her duty, as she lifted her gaze to the waiting Autobots, and relayed his name.

Both of them blinked, turning the name over and probably running comparisons to their own language to properly identify him. It didn't take long, as they exchanged knowing looks. Alexis knew their suspicions had been confirmed. "Thank you." Optimus said gently, placing a light hand on the mechs' shoulder. "I will not burden you with further questions at this point and allow you to rest. I assure you that this information will not leave this room until you insist otherwise." Optimus added. The mech visibly relaxed, and Alexis felt the relief flood through the bond at that promise. "Now rest. We will speak later when you are well."

Ratchet glanced down at the silent mech, glancing once to Alexis to ensure he wasn't about to add anything, before injecting another syringe's contents into a fuel line. It wasn't long before the mech's optics flickered dimly and finally died out, the bond falling dormant again as his consciousness slipped away from Alexis' mind. "Well." Ratchet said, once the mech was safely in stasis. "I'm not quite certain what to think."

"It is a very peculiar situation." Optimus mused. "I will have to do some additional research."

"I'll work on him. Now that I know his build it'll be easier, knowing what I'm rebuilding. But Optimus… if word of this gets out to anyone…"

"I know." Optimus agreed, fixing his gaze over to Alexis. "I must ask you to hold his name to yourself for now. I realize you don't understand the full implications, but I can assure you if word gets out of his identity, it could cause issues."

Alexis frowned, but nodded. "I understand. I just wish I knew what it was you all know." She gazed down at him with a suddenly empty feeling aching in her heart. Why was it any time she thought she got to know someone, they turned out to be more than they appeared? First men, now alien robots. It wasn't fair.

Optimus watched her with an understanding expression. "I can sympathize with your position. However, I cannot authorize telling you anything about him without clearing it with him first. He chose to hide his identity even from others who might recognize him, and it was merely coincidence that we uncovered the truth. Until he gives permission or tells you himself, I would rather not violate his privacy. My apologies."

She shook her head. "I understand. It's just frustrating that's all."

"I can see that more comfortable accommodations are arranged for you in the meantime. Bumblebee has been assisting Wheeljack in altering one of our spare rooms for your own use. He also volunteered to take you to the nearest town, or wherever you need to go in order to gather supplies."

"I think I'll take him up on that offer, thanks." With one more glance towards the now sleeping form of her friend, she glanced to Ratchet who was watching them solemnly. "You'll let me know when he wakes up, or if anything else happens?"

"Of course."

The room provided to her was definitely much larger than she needed, having of course been designed for a full sized mech. However, Wheeljack had done well in making some alterations to suit her. The large recharge berth that served for the mechs' beds had been lowered to serve for a nice ceiling, a curtain hung around it, with soft foam lain down within a box that suspiciously reminded her of a large Petri dish. They had crafted a rather large but adequate wash basin for her, as well as a working shower. Her request for a waste-disposal unit definitely didn't take the shape she'd preferred, but after a little experimentation she decided it would do the job well enough for now. She'd educate them on the art of building toilets at a later date. A suitable desk and chair had been built for her, though she had nothing to do with it yet. It was all very courteous of them, and she found herself liking the Autobot's form of hospitality more and more. The reminded her strongly of the same military structure she was used to, though still maintained the feeling of a family unit of sorts.

Once she was familiar with her room, she commed Bumblebee thanks to the handy data-pad she'd been given containing all the Autobot's com channels. Bumblebee, as she'd been warned, had a damaged vocalizer and couldn't verbally reply to her, however with the data pad she could receive his replies via text. The yellow mech met her at her quarters only a few minutes after she texted him. "Hey, thanks for doing this." She said, smiling up at him as he knelt down, offering a hand to her with a soft chirp. "I just hope I've got enough cash to last me a while."

Her data-pad beeped, and she dutifully glanced down at it to see Bumblebee's message blinking at her. Can you not return to your place of residence?

"No." She said with a sigh. "That's the first place the government will have checked. At least I know that my cat will be taken care of, Tom always was a sucker for animals. But they'll have it under surveillance in case I return, and they'll have tagged my credit cards and bank account so anywhere I withdraw money, they'll be on me quickly. Unless you take me halfway across the state to lead them off track, anywhere I use my cards to get cash will tip them off as to where I am. I'd rather NOT risk that, even at the expense of my comfort. I'll just have to make do for now."

Wheeljack can readily synthesize sustenance that will keep you functioning.

"Oh yes, I'm sure he can." She grimaced. "But given what I've heard from hints some of you guys have dropped, I'm not sure I'd trust my taste buds to him."

You may not have a choice. If your government truly desires to apprehend you, you may be taking refuge with us for some time.

"This I know." She muttered. "Thanks Bumblebee, I'll do what I can. I think clothing and some basic hygiene supplies are my priority, as well as some special items I can splurge on. Other than that, I'll make do with whatever I can."

Bumblebee was ever the cordial chaperone. Having the data-pad seemed to energize him greatly. Alexis could sympathize, not being able to speak was something her partner had suffered through. The Autobot however was an entirely different companion than her partner, Starscream. He was quite inquisitive, and spent most of their journey asking her about human culture and the like. She answered his curiosity, but didn't reciprocate. After learning what little she had earlier, she was uncertain just what she should ask, and what she shouldn't. Her best bet was to wait and ask Starscream himself, to avoid making any grievous mistakes.

Yet, it didn't help ease her mind.

By the time they returned, the sun had set and Alexis was ready to retreat to the solitude of her own quarters with a head full of questions.

She didn't sleep well that night.

The following morning, Alexis woke feeling refreshed, though with a strange nagging in the back of her head. She sent a brief thought out, and received no response, deciding her companion must be in a semi-conscious state. She pushed the nagging aside, burying it beneath her own problems as she got up to wash up. She was beginning to appreciate picking up a pair of cheap jeans and a t-shirt, as her coveralls seemed far too hot for the temperate interior of the Autobot's ship. She finished washing and followed the empty knowing sensation in her stomach towards the Autobot galley for breakfast.

Most of them were on their own schedules. They didn't have a set 'day' or 'night' from what she understood of their planet and it's timetables. Each mech was on a shift, slept when they were off shift, relaxed in their spare time, and rotated shifts now and then to get daytime or nighttime off. As she entered, there were only a few unfamiliar faces scattered about the room, enjoying their own cubes as they chatted quietly among themselves. She went largely unnoticed, making her way to the shelving Wheeljack had installed for her, containing several jars of entirely unappealing slop that was vaguely reminiscent of oatmeal, but tasted twice as bad. She choked her way through it, trying to imagine it tasted far better than it was, as she observed the other mechs in the room, comparing them to the list on her data-pad. There was Red Alert, the security officer in the corner by himself, Bluestreak who was listed as an expert gunner and foot soldier sitting with a red and yellow mech, all of whom seemed to share similar exo-traits. Pulling up their profiles, she discovered why. The three of them all had Lamborghini alternate modes. Interesting choice. The only other person in here was a mech by the name of Mirage who seemed about as interested in what was going on as she, his optics trained on the threesome in the corner, energon cube empty on his table as he idly traced it's rim with a finger. Unfortunately she had no clue what was so interesting, as they were all speaking in their native tongue. Therefore, she finished her meal as quickly as she could before finally departing, heading towards the med-bay once more.

Upon entry, she was greeted to a loud cacophony of screeching metal on metal, sparks flying wildly all over the place, landing with a hiss on the floor. Cringing, she quickly made her way up onto the table out of the way of the sparks, and cast her eyes down at the scene below. Ratchet had one hand firmly splayed across the mech's back, the other had transformed into a very large and very sharp round saw, which was currently hacking away at a deep section of metal across the prone mech's back. It looked VERY painful. She touched on the link, and found his consciousness dim and distant. If he was awake, he was heavily sedated. She sat down, and watched as Ratchet worked. It took him a good long time to finally rend the piece of plating off of the mech's back, but finally it came away with a loud snap, and the sparks ceased flying as Ratchet raised his blast-shield over his face and studied it intently. "Humph." He muttered. "No wonder. Useless piece of scrap." He tossed the piece aside carelessly, and peered down at the workings that had been uncovered. "Now, let's see what's causing that kink… Ah here we are." He reached in with nimble fingers and began to pull and twist, obviously after something in particular. When finally something snapped, he grunted and pulled his hand out carefully, revealing a very sharp piece of metal that didn't match the color of his patient in the least. It was a dark navy blue, nearly black shard of something wickedly dangerous looking. "Now just how long have you been carrying THAT around in you I wonder." Ratchet muttered, examining the item with interest. "Mark four dart… inject capability spent. And I do believe I recognize it's signature. Lucky fragger… this could have done far worse than pinch a line." He carefully rolled the mech back onto his back before tossing the object into a metal tray not far from where Alexis sat, then started as he lay his optics upon her. "Alexis! Primus alive, girl… announce yourself next time! I could have damaged you carelessly."

"You were doing fine." She promised, smiling at his concern. "What was that you found?"

"That?" He pointed at the dart. "It's a projectile weapon meant to pierce armor, inject it's victim with a paralysis agent, and take them out swiftly. How long it's been pinching one of his main energon lines I can only guess, but trust me he's better off without it."

She lifted an eyebrow, studying the long wicked-looking dart with interest. It was sharp enough she felt she could have used it to etch her name into a glass surface, despite being corroded around the tip from wherever it had been imbedded all this time. "Is that why you hacked of half his armor?"

"Hah." Ratchet snorted, pointing at the piece he'd discarded. "That? It was poor armor to begin with, only third-grade scrap. I'd have pulled it off anyway, but it was faster to cut it apart in pieces. He'll need a whole new armor set anyway, that stuff is worthless in a battle."

She peered down at the prone form of her partner, idly curious. Ratchet had been hard at work all right. All the damaged parts were gone now, and most of his armor had been completely removed, right down to exposing all his piping and wires. It was just as detailed as the anatomy of a human might be with all the muscles, nerves and bones exposed. She could see similar layers, from the sturdy silver supports of his struts, to the flexible metal piping and cables that twisted around each limb. Each arm was exposed so that she could see the weapons mounted dormant inside his arms, folded back waiting to be initiated should he need them. However, what drew her attention the most was a bright light pulsing from his chest, shining through a chamber situated in the center, right where a human heart might be. "What's that?" She asked, curiously leaning forward to get a better glimpse. It was a small metal chamber with varying sizes of cracks running all over its surface allowing light to shine through, bright white and nearly as blinding as a supernova. It was entrancing, and she felt a strange shiver run down her back, realizing that it had to be something important, considering how it was buried beneath layers of plating and would have been completely hidden beneath the armor ordinarily.

"That?" Ratchet glanced at what had caught her eye. "Ah." He smiled a little. "That, would be his spark."

"Spark?"

"It is our equivalent to what you might consider a heart. It's what keeps us functioning, although it's far more than that." Ratchet mused, watching the light dance off the reflective metal protecting it. "A mech's spark is not only our life-force, but our wills, our consciousness. Without it, you could animate a body, but it would have no individual free will or directive. It would simply be a drone programmed to do certain things, even will a full working processor it would not think for itself. Our sparks are what make us sentient. We are nothing but empty shells without one." He turned his head back to regard her with solemn blue eyes. "You might call it our soul, as well. It is the spark of life. You humans use the term metaphorically, for us it is a physical reality."

Alexis blinked, a bit taken aback. Certainly she knew they were sentient beings, but the thought about how that sentience operated hadn't tickled her mind yet. It could have been easy to just think of them as advanced robots with brains programmed to be as sophisticated as a human's, but now she saw there was more to it than that. Even the most super-advanced computer was just that, a computer. Seeing the light spilling in random pulses from Starscream's chest made her realize that like humans, these people had their own unique form of life. "It's quite beautiful." She murmured. "What does it look like? Is it just concentrated energy?"

"Something of the sort." Ratchet agreed. He hesitated a moment, then held a hand out. "I don't believe he would protest you having a look. I will show you, but you will want to shield your eyes. Here." He handed her a thick piece of glass from somewhere off to the side. It was dark, nearly opaque, and she recognized it as a form of one-way glass. "You'll want to use that, else you could end up blinded." Trusting his judgment, she lifted the glass up, a bit dismayed she could see nothing through it's dark surface, but not wishing to risk peeking to satisfy her curiosity at the risk of her vision. Ratchet leaned forward towards the sleeping mech's chest, transformed his index finger into a tool and made some adjustments to the plating surrounding the glowing light. After a few moments, Alexis was instantly glad he had insisted on the protective glass, for the light that spilled out was brilliant beyond measure. She still had to squint as the brilliance caused her retina's to ache, but the glass diffused enough of it for her to get a good look at the spark. It was like a tiny sun. There was a concentrated focus of energy gathered at the center, fading in intensity towards the exterior. She could see small spikes of something akin to lightning flickering out striking the walls in regular intervals, sending blue light skittering up the metal into who knew where. The entire process reminded her of the balls science teachers had in class, filled with electricity that made your hair stand on end. "Wow." She murmured softly. "That is something all right."

"Indeed it is." Ratchet agreed, peering down himself. "Especially this one."

"Why is that?"

"Notice the color?" She nodded, staring at the burning bright golden center, but not seeing any change. "Most mechs possess blue sparks. There are very rare instances that I have seen those of other colors, but it is very infrequent."

"What does it mean?"

"Who knows." Ratchet mused. "I have seen a case where the color had changed due to severe damage, crippling the mech. There was another case where an explosion with unstable chemicals changed the color of all the technicians sparks, and made them fairly frail. But I cannot begin to fathom why Starscream would have such a spark." He hesitated, then leaned forward closer, stopping his lecture. "Curious… this could be the reason." He reached forward with a needle-thin tool, carefully slipping it within the chamber and tracing a small hairline crack riding up the wall of the chamber.

"Damage?" She guessed, spotting more of the cracks all around the casing. It was more visible from the outside, as the inside appeared to have been welded smoothly in place. There were wider gaps towards the top and bottom, gaping holes were more appropriate. It seemed no matter how well the smaller rends had healed, there was nothing to be done about the larger ones.

"Damage." Ratchet agreed solemnly, withdrawing his tool. "Old damage… and very dangerous damage. I'm surprised he survived it." He carefully replaced the plates, pulling them back into position, and Alexis' vision danced with bright spots as she lowered the glass, blinking to try and rid the burning image left on her retinas. "Spark chamber damage is the most critical of all injuries, aside from neural processor damage perhaps. Spark chambers are heavily protected for a reason, you have only one. If that one is destroyed, you cannot replace it with another, as usually the mech is long dead. Without a functioning spark chamber, the energy within the spark cannot be filtered into the rest of the body, and will overload the systems, discharging it's own energy far too fast, and spend it all before it can be stopped. Sparks disintegrate that way. A spark chamber protects the spark from escaping, channels the energy to be used, and protects it's precious life."

Alexis winced. "He's been through quite a bit then…" She murmured.

"War does that to one." Was the solemn response. "And knowing his history, I think he's very lucky to be alive at all." Alexis frowned, fixing Ratchet with an irritated glance, one that the mech caught the meaning to immediately. "Don't stare at me like that, girl." He growled irritably. "Educating you on sparks is one thing, prying into a patient's personal life is another. You will have to ask him."

"How is it fair that you all know more about him than me." She grumbled, jumping off of the medic's hand to take her place back on the table. "You could at least tell me some basics."

"Even the basics are classified material even to Autobots." Ratchet said grumpily. "Not everyone knows his story. Now stop sulking and let me get to work."