A/N: Warnings for mentions of suicide this chapter, it's not overly dark but that is a touchy subject. You have been warned. Again I own nothing, sadly enough. This was a prompt initially suggested by DeathStallion on DeviantArt (yes I am enough of a Noob that this was listed as DA and it took me over a month to figure that one out.) and suggested on the twins-x-ratch group on livejournal by chimeradark. (Thank you both for giving me this infuriatingly long winded plot bunny.)
"Listen demons, and listen well, for these are the last words you will ever hear…
Frigid wind whipped through clothes, ripping across numb plating not covered and bored painful needles of cold into intakes and optics careless of the three mechs struggling through the winter gale. The three moved as one, stepping in unison as they pressed together huddling in line to keep the middle mech from the bitter cold.
He stepped, struggling against the wind pushing against him like the hand of Primus keeping them in this Hell of freezing wind and piercing snow. Each step was a fight, every pace forward a minute victory in a long battle against the elements. Sideswipe kept his head down, using his broad shoulders as a plow against nature's forces.
Behind him, pressed against his layers of shirts and jackets, was Ratchet, the healer shivering violently despite his own layers of clothing and Sunstreaker behind him. For once Sideswipe regretted being a nightwalker, regretted his body's lack of heat that would have warmed Ratchet. Sideswipe pressed harder into the wind, forcing his legs to work harder against the weather as his processors went back to their cold imprisonment …
"Listen demons, and listen well, for these are the last words you will ever hear. Optics bound, you will never see beauty, mouths sealed you will never utter the lies that brought so many to you. Steaks of titanium to keep you forever bound, chains of unbreakable white iridium and sacred seals to keep your sprits from ever reaching the Light of Primus should you do us all a service and die." High Priest Alpha Trion intoned as they slowly came awake.
"Listen unholy filth and listen well for this is your only hope. Primus does not give recourse to evil, keeps joy from the wicked. Evil minions of the Pit, only one means of release exists for you." Another voice lilted through the stifling darkness, "Should Primus in His benevolence bind a pure spark to both of yours, and should that pure being release you of her own free will without out ill intent, only then will you once more be free."
The sound of pedes turning on stone echoed in the silence as the two priests left the dark room, "They may yet find escape." Alpha Trion spoke.
"Primus is not so cruel as to bind a single femme to that pair. For making our emperor and his only offspring nightwalkers they deserve worse." The other voice replied, "Curse the Beast for making this pair immune to all agents known to weaken and kill the nightwalker scourge."
"For your crimes against Emperor Sentinel, Crown Prince Optimus and Prince Magnus you will remain bound for all eternity. These sacred seals will keep you powerless, frozen, blind, mute and alive." Alpha Trion spoke into the stillness as the echoing of the door sealing filled the room and faded into complete and all encompassing silence …
Eternity, forever, infinity; the incomprehensible span of time that lasted long past the processor's capacity to handle the unending agony of perpetual existence. Mortals bandied such words so easily. To love forever. A reign to last all eternity. A love that will go on forever. What did mortals know of eternity? What could they?
The being had lived in utter silence for long enough to forget that it had a past. To forget the feeling of sunlight on its plating or the hiss of wind over its audios. To forget, in the shivering vaporous clinging of its spark that it was not one, but two beings sealed in silence – and forgotten.
In the endless darkness a voice trickled into its processors, a distant voice unheard but listened to, the being starved of contact of any kind drinking in its presence desperately, constantly seeking more. "I can heal her dammit! You can't keep treating your sick with folk remedies that only make them worse!" The voice was harsh and desperate, so full of caring, brimming with concern and strengthened by an indomitable will.
And, all too soon it was gone. The reclaimed silence, reinforced solitude was made all the worse for that minute contact. Starving, freezing, longing the being waited, hoping for the other's return and despaired.
"Of course I came back you sorry ninnies! This is my route, and since the whole slagging lot of morons calling themselves village leaders in this area keep nothing more than midwives and hedge wizards to tend their mechs then it falls to me to tend this whole fragged district."
The presence returned, and would eight more times, each one bringing more awareness to the being trapped in silence. Each return to silence bringing a grating in its spark that jarred the conjoined being, slowly reminding it that this was not the only existence it had known.
"Where?" The presence had come back, the tenth time and this time it brought a sensation of pain and dizziness. "Where – where am I?" For the first time the presence radiated fear, feeling to the silent being less like an entity of endless power and more of a scared youngling. The being pressed as close as it could to the presence – and shifted. Brought aware of the two frames it inhabited it was torn between watching the other outside of itself and probing to remember what it itself was.
:: You always were an idiot. :: The thought jarred them from their long state of isolation, becoming acutely aware of the stale energon congealed in their lines. How long had it been since they had been sealed away? How much of an eternity had they faced since losing consciousness during their last battle with the obsessed priest and his followers?
"If you've killed First Aid the darkling races will be the least of your worries." The presence spoke once more into their shared connection, radiating a deep desire to harm another that jarred painfully with a deeper abhorrence to violence.
:: He's in trouble. ::
:: And we're stuck here.:: Their minds separated the pair dredged their slow processors for the last words, the ones that Alpha Trion had left them with, the 'last words they would ever hear.' Yet the memory eluded them, the memory that was important for some reason.
"Who?" The presence asked wearily, radiating a deep exhaustion tainted with sorrow, self loathing and hate. Whatever was happening to him outside of their prison the pair could not tell, but in his ten appearances into their processors he had never felt so exhausted, worn or lost.
::Trion said something about hope, a hope – gah something!:: One spoke, his name lost to memory.
::Freedom, from here. We could get free.:: The other murmured in the seeming eternity devoid of the presence.
::Brother, I'm tired.:: The first admitted, his presence seeming to sag and weaken. ::When he leaves this time, when he goes away and the silence comes back – I don't want to stay anymore.::
A slight hush, a real sound that assaulted their audios since the departure of the priests an eternity ago, filled the room. ::There's room around some of the spikes we can rip through them. We're weak enough that we won't survive the damage.::
::Thank Primus.:: The pair sighed as one, grateful for knowing their frames had dried over the eons and now they could rip themselves from their prison and blessedly die.
"Do you have washing facilities or do you want to smell me all day?" The presence suddenly came back, awake, angry, hateful, bitter and tired. The silent pair rejoiced at his voice, drank in the anger and hate, consumed the bitterness as they once had consumed mechblood and felt renewed.
Silence returned but a macabre feast of grief, and turmoil filled them from the other. The presence beyond their reach was swiftly reaching the point where agony overran everything else and soon, like them it would cease to exist. The pair rejoiced in knowing the other would not leave this time but join them in death.
"Fraggit, make some noise!" The stunned alarm amused them, the pair enjoying the many connotations the presence's words could take. Gruff irritation filled their connection, warming the pair's frozen spark – then a new noise assaulted their over sensitive audios. A creaking groan followed by the heavy brush of the thick door grating across the stone floor. Warmth rushed into their frigid prison making the heavy moisture condense on their metal frames underneath clothes turned into so many fibers and dust from the ages.
"Fraggit! My brother is a nightwalker and I'm afraid of a cold room and a little water." The voice filtered into the room from outside, gruffer than they expected. The voice sent thrills of anticipation through the pair, now suddenly hyperaware of their own frames and the aching agony of their old wounds.
Footsteps entered the room, the snick, click of a flint and steel before the crawling sear of a smoldering ember that grew into the dry crackle of fire. Their sparks sang at hearing actual sound. Their olfactory senses long numbed to the musty, damp stink of their stone prison smelled a bouquet of fragrances. Burning wood and kerosene, healing salves, high quality wax and clean linen clothes.
The presence turned, flooding their connection with awe. He was seeing something so beautiful it moved his spark. They longed to see what he did, to see him. Then the awe turned to horror, the horror muted into stiff resolve. Footsteps, loud in the silent room approached, the clink of metal on stone and then hands – thank Primus real hands – were on their plating pulling spikes from their frames and carefully, struggling against their heavier frames lowered them to the floor.
With slow, painful realization the pair realized they had been denied the relief of suicide by Alpha Trion. Their bindings were so complete that they could not even budge more than their topmost muscle cables under their plating. Nothing would budge and they were sealed until this angelic being promising hope could free them enough to die.
Those blessed hands cleaned their wounds, tenderly, carefully bringing relief from the burning agony they had endured for so long. Listen unholy filth and listen well for this is your only hope. Alpha Trion's words slowly came back to them as they were tended still frozen in their open prison. Those hands finally reached their final bindings and with no effort they were free – and hungry.
One sat up, optics freed and on-lined only seeing the delicious mortal with the scent of life and turned to feast. …only one means of release exists for you. The other followed swiftly, both sinking fangs deep into the soft neck plating and drinking deeply of the revitalizing mech blood the other offered so willingly along with his body pressed closely against Sunstreaker's frame, pressing, rubbing moaning for more than fangs to fill him.
The healer pressed between them, captured willingly in their thrall mewled his desire and shuddered radiating the growing darkness that was slowly encompassing him, closer to the point of death and his lust changed from wanting their frames to wanting his own seductive ending. Should Primus in His benevolence bind a pure spark to both of yours … only then will you once more be free.
Their processors locked onto the delicious flavor of the healer's mechblood, filling the pained emptiness of their tanks and taking warmth from his hot blood. They drank deeply, bringing the healer closer and closer - only then will you once more be free – Alpha Trion's words finally came back to them, realization of who they were killing slammed into their sparks like a deathblow and as one they tore themselves from their bonded. "No!"
Fury filled them as their bonded fell heavily to the floor, slamming onto the stone and lying too still. They pulled the last memories from their bonded the desire to maim and kill and sought revenge on those who had harmed the healer. They tore from the room, and through the throats of every being that bore the purple crest of the healer's captors. The mortals and vampires united in tormenting the healer would be utterly destroyed …
::Yeah, that worked well.:: Sunstreaker sent the equivalent of a derisive snort across their innate twin bond. ::He turned out to be immune and blames himself for what we did.::
::That's why we have to make it up to him!:: Sideswipe replied enthusiastically as the first wafts of mortal stench filtered through the pounding wind and snow of the storm. ::We'll be there soon.::
Sunstreaker looked to the bowed head of Ratchet before him and revved his engine harder, seeking to generate more heat to keep the healer alive in the arctic temperatures. ::Will getting him to the next village alive in his pathetic gear suffice?::
::Sunny! He freed us, fed us and kept us from going insane. Saving his life once is a little weak.::
::Fine, but he's getting new gear in the next village. Canvas and linen cloaks over summer tunics is a death wish.::
::See, you do care.:: Sideswipe grinned across their bond. Sunstreaker smiled slightly down on Ratchet despite himself. The mech intrigued him, the heady mix of gruff strength and gentle caring overlaid on a forged steel will and a powerful fear of death and failure was intoxicating when they were close enough to taste the bleed off of excess emotional energy.
"Thank Primus, we're here." Ratchet breathed into the storm. The pair surrounding him shifted as they finally approached the heavy plated steel door set into the thick stone wall surrounding the massive keep of Pax Crystalia. "Who-slaggin-ever is on gate watch let us in!" Ratchet roared as he slammed his fists against the peep hole built into the door.
Behind him the red and yellow mechs he had awoken to in the way station just that morning watched as the door rattled harder in the blizzard than Ratchet could pound. With simultaneous shrugs Red and Yellow slammed their fists against the door in a staccato knock that boomed over the storm and vibrated the very walls of the keep. Yellow smirked down on Ratchet, a superior cast to his features that demanded to be recognized and admired. The seductive curve of his lips that defied the power the taller frame possessed. Ratchet shuddered from the force of the smile, the desire in those optics held a deeper emotion he had no words to describe.
Before the red and yellow pairs' knocking could finish reverberating through the keep the peep hole cracked open against the storm and slammed shut immediately. Voices rose behind the door before the massive portal opened just wide enough for arms to reach out for the trio in the storm and drag them into the warm confines of the enclosed inner gate.
"Healer Ratchet." A tall green mech nodded his greeting to the healer, cross-bow at his side primed and ready for a bolt. "We heard of Decepticons invading Steeldale and a nightwalker attack that decimated the city." The words were a challenge, a test to ensure the healer had not succumbed to the invading nightwalkers.
Ratchet huffed a sigh, walking to a panel beside the gate door and pressing it firmly. He was immediately bathed simulated sunlight, bright and blinding but still cold he shivered in the false light wishing the real sun was out and shining. His demonstration met with the green mech's nod, who then handed him a small sample of high grade. Raising the cube in a silent toast, Ratchet nodded to the green mech and downed the cube easily, saving just a drop he poured directly onto his bare hand to show he had no plating reaction to the concentrated energy.
"Happy now Springer?" Ratchet asked with huffing gruff amusement, smirking at the slightly younger guard captain.
"Sorry Master Healer, you made the protocols." Springer smiled and hugged Ratchet with a firm pat on the shoulder. "Primus you're frozen. We've been worried sick about you."
"My apologies, but aren't you forgetting something?" Ratchet nodded to the suddenly silent and grim pair who had followed him all day, and saved him in the process.
"You two, I need your names." Springer barked, meeting them optic to optic. The pair were well dressed, they looked better kept than warriors despite their warrior build, perhaps fighter trained turned merchant. In these days filled with darklings and nightwalkers, such was not uncommon. The red mech shrugged, the yellow twitched his head as if stopping from shaking his head, then as one they moved to the plate that streamed sunlight, yellow rubbing his arm plating gently all the while.
The guards watched the two closely like turbo-hawks spotting a petro-rabbit for the kill. Crossbows primed and armed, they only had to aim for the spark and cranial processors to terminate the worrisome pair. "Sunstreaker, Sideswipe" the pair replied in unison, neither giving any indication of who was who. They pulled the lacings open on their thick vests and tunics then palmed the sunlight device, bathing themselves in the arcanely derived glow.
"Do we get our high grade now?" the red mech asked brightly, optics showing a hint of darkness that worried Ratchet, while the yellow remained impassive and unreadable.
"Here, do just as the Master Healer did." Springer replied, scrutinizing the pair for any signs of falsehood. The pair took their samples, downing the majority in a single gulp and dribbling the rest on the backs of their hands. "You're Sideswipe, I'm guessing." Springer looked to the red mech, wondering in the same breath how safe it was to speak so to Sunstreaker.
"Yup, that's me." Sideswipe smirked and absently licked the energon off his hand. Beside him Sunstreaker grimaced disdainfully at the sticky stain on his yellow plating and buffed it off with a clean cloth.
"Ratchet is freezing." Sunstreaker snarled at the guards, drawing attention to the shivering medic who could only shudder and glare at the yellow mech.
"Summon our nurse." Springer shoved one of the guards towards a side door that led into the double stone hall set between the inner and outer gate walls. The mech saluted and bolted through the door. Springer looked back at Ratchet with worry as the healer's systems ground painfully as he collapsed.
The guards ran to Ratchet, ready to help control his fall only to pull up short as the healer was caught in waiting red arms, Sunstreaker blocking their approach crouched and ready to fight. "Sideswipe, is he still cycling air?" Springer asked.
"Yes, but he's freezing and that high grade is burning through his systems too fast." Sideswipe glared at the guards, tensing as a knock echoed through the entry.
"Coming in!" A soft voice called through the door, swinging in to reveal a petite pink and white femme in a pale green healing attendant's dress. "Springer – oh, Ratchet's here!" She cried with worry as she brushed fearlessly past Sunstreaker to kneel at the master healer's side.
"We need to get him into the ready room." Arcee beckoned Sideswipe to bring Ratchet into the gate house leading the way into a small chamber kept warm and stocked with medical supplies. "Lay him down." She bent over Ratchet, checking his systems through his under shirt before wrapping him in a heated blanked and slowly fed him warmed mid grade.
"You two, leave Arcee to her work. I would like to speak with you." Springer beckoned the pair to follow him, noting how the pair pensively shifted closer to Ratchet before seeming to wilt and finally nod for him to lead. Together they walked to an empty nearby cell, Springer entered, leaving the door open. "Ratchet has come the same time unerringly for the past ten years. This time he is three weeks late and you two appear connected to him somehow. Why are you here?"
Sideswipe looked to Sunstreaker, the yellow one merely slitting his optics dangerously at Springer, raising one shoulder in a shrug. Sideswipe nodded as if Sunstreaker had spoken. "I'm an energon trader." The red spoke explaining their meeting only a few hours earlier with Ratchet and the day long trek to the keep.
Ratchet slowly came online, audios registering the soft buzzing of conservation nearby but just out of audio range. He recognized those voices. "Arcee?" He asked with a shiver, his frame freezing despite the warmth wrapped around him and the crackling fire nearby.
"Master Healer!" Arcee cried happily, "You've been taking care of us for the past ten years, and I never thought I'd get the chance to return the favor." She smiled as she handed him another small ration of warmed energon. "Drink this, your systems seized with the cold. You should have dressed warmer to travel this late into the season."
Ratchet sipped gratefully at the warm liquid and huffed in annoyance. "Femmeling, I've been safely ensconced in Crystal Spire by now every year without fail. This year has just been one long string of sorry forsaken slag that kept me from my normal route."
"Trouble?" Springer asked.
"Putting it lightly, yes. I need to speak with your full town council tonight if possible, tomorrow at the latest." Ratchet sat up, leaning against the wall the berth he rested on. "Dark times are upon us."
"I'll set up the meeting for you. You should get over to the inn, Arachnia's got you set up with a room." Springer stood, nodding his farewell to the still resting healer.
"Ratchet, your yellow minion of mischief has been after me all evening to see about you." Arcee smiled at Ratchet impishly. "Sideswipe's getting annoyed with him which probably means Springer's going to have one or both in the prison tonight for fighting."
Ratchet frowned at the name that sounded vaguely familiar. "Sideswipe? I don't – oh, he's the red one isn't he?"
The femme giggled at the healer, finally laughing outright, "They really did tag along with you, didn't they? And yes, Sideswipe is the red one, Sunstreaker is the yellow one."
"They crept into my way station last night and followed me all day." Ratchet slowly rubbed his aching chevron in tired frustration. "Which means I owe them my life, slaggit."
"Don't worry too much, Sideswipe seems focused on making credits. He has some decent energon for sale. Sunstreaker has been making some spectacular drawings. You wouldn't think those heavy line combat mechs could possess such skills." Arcee smiled at the healer, remembering the first time the wily mech had come to their city as a teenaged journeyman healer. No one had believed he had the skills to heal them – until Ratchet had performed a miracle. He saved a young femme from a darkling wood spider. The venom had already begun to melt the femme's internals and yet she survived to make a full recovery.
Arcee absently traced the triangular fang marks where that spider had bitten her those years ago. She had never suffered any illness since, not even from the worst of sicknesses that had taken the lives of her friends over the years.
"Am I staying in the usual room?" Ratchet finally asked with a tired sigh, refusing to think on the mischief the heathen pair could get into in one town during a white out.
"Uh," Arcee blushed, "Arachnia thought they were your – um – lovers." She hid her face in her hands giggling in embarrassment. She had never thought to have such a discussion with the master healer, and had always discredited the rumors about him. Now she questioned the claims of his conquests amongst the traders who had come and gone during the years and blushed more brightly.
Springer poked his head into the room with a smile, "I tried to set 'Nia straight, but she's insistent. Already set you three up with her best suite." Springer shrugged as Ratchet groaned and moved to hug his girlfriend as the healer slowly stood.
"Primus is laughing right now, that or he hates me." Ratchet sighed, moving out from under the thick blanket and regaining his pedes. "You did good, Arcee." Ratchet patted the young femme's shoulder and moved from the makeshift infirmary, bracing against the cold of the city beyond the doors.
"You'll freeze – again." Sunstreaker's voice sounded from Ratchet's side as a thick warmth enveloped him, sheltering him from the cold. "They say you never travel this late in the season. Your gear is inadequate."
"How in the name of Primus did you get a rose-bear cloak?" Ratchet asked in awe as he stared at the fine bristled rose gold hued fur. The giant breed of wild bear was difficult to find and harder to kill. Few trappers ever faced the beasts willingly which made the pelt nearly impossible to find and almost prohibitively expensive.
"It was not hard to acquire." Sunstreaker replied softly, finger tracing Ratchet's shoulder softly. Ratchet looked up into the normally hard optics, seeing something in them that scared him. Swallowing and forcing his gaze down, he looked to his shoulder and the dark red dyed petro-rabbit fur crosses sewn into the longer bristled rose bear fur.
"Um, thank you," Ratchet finally breathed, wondering how he could give this intimidating mech the slip to continue his journey alone. The yellow mech's optics spoke of emotions he did not want to think about, emotions he was not ready to face. Hiding a shudder by shifting his satchel Ratchet stepped from the warm inner wall to the frozen night air beyond and headed to Madame Black Arachnia's inn, the Black Fang.
Behind him, standing against the inner wall, Sunstreaker watched Ratchet stride worriedly across the city towards the inn and the warm bed waiting there. Nodding to himself that the healer would be alright the few blocks to the inn Sunstreaker turned back to the main square and the many art projects he had in process there. He and Sideswipe needed the funds to survive in this new era and the ancient coins from eons ago would only draw questions they couldn't answer.
"Master Healer," Black Arachnia purred as Ratchet entered the inn. She smiled her seductive smile, long fangs gleaming in the fire light contrasted breathtakingly with her purplish skin and purple lips. "We're grateful as always for your arrival."
"Arachnia," Ratchet grinned lightly at the femme, she always wore a dress with a bustle, her delicate pedes enclosed in fancy shoes not seen outside of the imperial city. Her fangs and darkened lips made her a much sought after companion by most travelers and those travelers swiftly found out she was neither for sale nor for rent. Her tenacity for independence and devotion to her inn were only comparable to Ratchet's own stubborn independent streak and fierce protectiveness over his patients. The two had been the closest friends since he had first met her years ago.
"You are late, master healer. I held my best room for you for over a week and lost some customers because of you." Arachnia teased lightly, upholding the longstanding joke since Ratchet had first demanded a cot in her dining room during his first visit. With a grin she enfolded Ratchet in a grateful, friendly embrace.
"My apologies, my services are in high demand." Ratchet teased back before sagging and sighed tiredly as he looked at the femme with exhausted optics, "Did the council send for me?"
"Yes, Springer got them to convene immediately. They're waiting in the city center, Brawn has a heated carriage for you." Arachnia hugged Ratchet once more before shooing him off to the town meeting.
"Here, try this one." A black hand set a small cube of pale energon at Sunstreaker's elbow.
"It smells like high grade." Optics narrowed in cold calculation Sunstreaker studied Sideswipe's optics as he gingerly shoved the cube away. His mouth still burned in agony from the high grade earlier. It wouldn't kill him, not even drinking a full cube would kill him. But it hurt like slag.
"That's the point! If it smells like high grade then we can drink it and blend in. Ratchet won't question why we don't celebrate midwinter with everyone else because it will look like we are." Sideswipe retorted in exasperation. "I've already tried it. I'm fine."
"You mean idiotic? Then yes, you're fine. I'm not touching it." Arched optic ridges challenged Sideswipe to question him.
"You're the idiot." The red figure growled, dipping two fingers into the energon before pinning Sunstreaker against the table they shared in the suite and forced his fingers into his twin's mouth. "There, no burns." He pulled his fingers out of Sunstreaker's mouth as swiftly as he could, keeping his digits from being bitten and danced swiftly away from the furious and tense figure of his brother.
"Slaggar!" Sunstreaker roared lunging at his twin before halting mid swing. "It actually tastes good."
Arms raised in supplication for strength Sideswipe palmed his face. "Of course it tastes good. I. Made. It. Now will you quit being such a femme-bot and drink it."
"No, you put your fingers in it." Sunstreaker refused disdainfully, turning back to the table and the small painting he had been working on. One that Sideswipe had been at great pains to avoid, knowing that if he so much as bumped it he'd be spending the next three weeks slowly regenerating after being torn apart.
Midstep Sunstreaker dismissed his glamour, allowing the sun kissed golden yellow color to fade from his plating replaced by his true sun gold hue. The pale blue of his optics deepened and shifted becoming a dangerous deep violet. "Do you really want us to hide like this forever?" Anguished optics looked to Sideswipe, pleading for hope that they could cease to pretend to be mortals.
Sideswipe sighed tiredly, hand waving absently as his own glamour faded leaving his plating bloody crimson, his optics a slightly lighter shade of violet. "Do you want to tell Ratchet that the monsters that nearly drank him dry have been following him for three weeks? That we're hiding in his room? That you've been attempting to seduce him? Really bro, you're gonna chase him away."
Sunstreaker snarled, "And you'll let him slip away while you chase credits and seek to blend in with the chattel suited for feeding us."
"So Ratchet's okay, as long as we can feed off of him once in a while, but everyone else, everyone he protects, he loves, they're free for the taking? He'll hate us. We take one life, one Sunny and he'll send us to our graves."
"We can't be killed, moron. How many tried? Our own master attempted to kill us and couldn't." Sunstreaker leaned against the wooden table, scrutinizing the painting before him. It was an image of Pax Crystalia inundated with the blizzard from earlier. Ratchet stood in the center of the storm unaffected by the snarling gale surrounding him that bent street signs and distant trees with its force. It showed the healer's strength, his resolve and every aspect of that surly persona that had attracted their attention from his first invasion in their thoughts ten years ago that seemed like yesterday.
"Do you remember the first time we felt him?" Sunstreaker asked softly, staring into the painting with desperate longing.
Sideswipe nodded and sighed, they had had this conversation almost nightly since their release by Ratchet's hand from their eternal prison. "We almost killed him." Sideswipe breathed morosely, that fact kept haunting them. They needed Ratchet, his strength and grounded ferocity. They wanted to be close to him, and because of their actions – and a two millennia old curse – they had to hide what they truly were from the world, from him.
"We stopped, thank Primus we stopped, in time to keep from killing him." Sunstreaker finally sagged, grabbing the despised cube of energon and finally taking a deep swig.
"Sunny –"
"Don't call me that."
"How is the wax holding out?" Sideswipe asked, changing the topic and ignoring his brother.
"Not well. Master never taught us the spell to make it. We'll have to leave Ratchet in less than a week if we can't get more." Sunstreaker sighed, both hung their heads. They could only stay in the damaging sunlight with Ratchet because of the special wax their master had given them before they had left for their last hunting spree. Now, with it almost gone, they would have to leave the healer and fade into the night once more.
"He's coming." Sideswipe tensed, and both erected their guises, allowing the cheery red and sun kissed yellow to cover their more infamous colors.
"Primus," Ratchet sighed as he entered the room tiredly, wishing he had been able to just drop his journal in the town leaders' laps and let them read the sordid details from Steeldale, Coldsteel Garrison and Healer's Wrath. Instead they had made him explain everything three times over. Now, Ratchet just wanted a warm energon ration and his bed. He looked up from his pedes from where he had leaned tiredly against the door freezing when he saw the brothers standing in the suite's sitting room. "You're still here?" He asked blankly.
For a moment he stared at them, his processors spinning as he tried to remember where he had seen them, the names they went by and why the slag he had a suite instead of the small room with a cot he usually argued Arachnia into instead of a room he might see for only a few hours.
"Madame Arachnia wanted us to keep an optic on you." The red mech grinned at Ratchet.
That grin, the memories came back and Ratchet huffed. "I know I'm stuck with you slagging idiots. I'm tired, I don't want to deal. Just let me grab a ration and I'll crash. You two can have the main berth." Ratchet collapsed onto the couch, leaning against the arm rest. His spark beat wildly within his chest now that he could actually look at them. They were gorgeous. He swallowed nervously as he moved his optics through the room, hiding his nerves by scowling his exhaustion.
"Yup, still here." The red one grinned easily, spark swelling as he felt the healer's nerves, fed off the awe radiating from the kinder spark at their beauty and preened under the scrutiny. "They only gave us one berth."
Sunstreaker and Sideswipe smiled their most seductive smiles at Ratchet as he spluttered, turning on them in trepidation masked with fury. "She did what? I will personally make 'Arachnia pay for this." Optics darkened with rage, Ratchet snarled, his lip components forming a perfect petulant pout that seemed to highlight the dark chevron on his brow and dark cobalt compassionate optics that brimmed with tired rage and self recrimination.
"The nurse said you should stay warm for the next few days." Sideswipe grinned wider, approaching Ratchet calmly.
"And we make great berth warmers." Sunstreaker whispered into Ratchet's audio from behind, sending a delightful thrill down the medic's relays. A thrill that echoed within their own frames exciting them further in want of the smaller healer.
"A – are you two seriously coming on to me?" Ratchet snapped with a shaky voice. He didn't want romance; he couldn't afford to get close to anyone, especially not now. The instant he had awoken in the keep's infirmary he had sensed the presence of the nightwalkers from Coldsteel Garrison, could sense the violent pair who had killed an entire city full of armed Decepticon warriors and – and took his own vilest wishes of violence against others and made them reality.
They were close, probably watching them now. Ratchet couldn't endanger the brothers, the pair was so full of life. They could get killed because of him, and he couldn't live with that.
"And if we are?" Ratchet couldn't tell who had spoken. Yet, somehow Sideswipe had gotten right in front of him without his realizing – and Ratchet was trapped between the glorious, beautiful, warm pair. It had been a few years since he had last taken any offers for a shared night in a berth. Ratchet was torn between desire, that building longing for the pair so willingly in his personal space, and protecting the beautiful idiots.
"You just met me this morning. Do you really want to hop into the first berth you come across?" Part of Ratchet's processors laughed at his throaty excuse, he'd bedded down others after knowing them for one drink.
"We've watched you longer than that." Sideswipe purred, gently kissing Ratchet's jaw just below his audio as Ratchet shivered torn between his spark and his processors.
"We passed through Healer's Wrath and heard of a healer traveling alone." Sunstreaker whispered against the back of Ratchet's neck, gently nibbling along the sensitized cables there.
"We've passed through towns that could only speak of your greatness." Hands found Ratchet's most sensitive seams through the fabric of his shirt and through the thick canvass of his trousers. "We never thought we'd actually get you."
"You haven't gotten me." Ratchet swallowed a moan as he pulled away from the pair. "I'm exhausted, and I start early tomorrow." He pulled the thick rose bear cloak off, collapsing onto the couch while throwing the long cloak over his frame as a blanket and effortlessly fell into exhausted recharge.
"We should rest." Sideswipe murmured as they watched the deeply recharging healer. Nodding, Sunstreaker scooped up Ratchet, moving to the berth in the far back room. With gentleness that only Sideswipe had before witnessed, Sunstreaker laid Ratchet carefully upon the berth, then slipped from his clothes to snuggle beside him. Sideswipe shook his head at Sunstreaker, stripping down to his thick leggings before snuggling against Ratchet's other side. With the warmth of Ratchet's frame between them and the soft hum of his systems filling the room the pair fell into a deep recharge.
