A/N: Hello there, my wonderful readers! There won't be any updates next week on account of NaNoWriMo, but the next part should be ready in two weeks. Until then, I hope you enjoy and I apologise in advance for the wait until the next part is done :)
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The summon by Ratchet to get his aft back on the ground had not been a polite request, and Will was not surprised to find the medic waiting on the out-of-use runway when he landed, anger fairly radiating from his tense stance. He had known about the warnings Will had ignored, of course. Will had remembered that his systems were still set to offer regular updates on his condition to the medic about five minutes too late, when he'd already hit a speed he wasn't made for and the first damning databursts had already been transmitted.
His entire frame hurt and his engines felt like the armour covering them was too tight to really fit as they responded to the intense heat of the flight, and his landing was a lot less graceful than it could have been, tarmac cracking as he landed on his feet at entirely too high a speed and with a roar of engines that could probably be heard over most of the island.
His systems still hummed from pent-up energy, if less than before he took off, and he was still fighting a vague feeling of distinctively human nausea in his processors at the memory of Starscream and his effect on Will's new Seeker body, and he offered an explanation in an almost-steady voice before anyone could ask.
"Starscream contacted me. They know about me and want me on their side. I told them to stuff it." Told them, with as much conviction as he could have managed at the time, and he added a databurst of the recorded conversation to Optimus Prime and Ratchet as little more than an afterthought, to let them have the full image. Another moment and some actual thought involved from his still-clouded processors, and then he added the same databurst to Ironhide and Sideswipe because slag it all, he had nothing to hide and they might find something in it that Will had missed, and if there was a small voice in the back of him mind that added and they'll know there's a real risk you might be a danger someday and will be ready to act if it happens, it was only common sense. Ironhide would take the shot if needed, he had already promised as much, and Sideswipe hated 'Cons more than any of them did. It would probably hurt like slag at his hand, but it'd be fast and much better than the thought of one day turning on his friends.
Only a slight narrowing of optics in a frown gave any indication of Optimus Prime's feeling on the new development, and then he nodded, a flicker of optics directed at the medic at his side before they returned to Will. "There will be a full debriefing after Ratchet has given you the all-clear. Dismissed."
Ratchet was in front of him an instant later, twenty feet of ground-bound mech easily staring down thirty feet of Seeker, and even through the hum of energy, Will still felt the Seeker in his mind flinch at the glare directed at them. "Infirmary, Lennox. Now."
Will followed quietly as Ratchet turned and led the way, and in the back of his mind, the Seeker stayed equally silent and didn't argue. They were probably toast, Will realised, but it had been worth it. He could think again – not clear-headed by any stretch of imagination, but he could think again, and that was a lot more than could be said for the situation when he had first woken up that morning.
Pain, whispered the Seeker, clearly still remembering its experience with the medic. Anger. Hurt, it added, worried, and Will steeled himself and felt the Seeker draw a bit of strength from that as well.
Pain, it repeated, if a bit less worried, and Will raised his head slightly.
Worth it, he said, and together they followed Ratchet to the infirmary.
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The walk to the infirmary happened in silence, and it didn't escape his notice that the tense anger remained in Ratchet's stance as he directed them to a bed once they stepped inside, uneasiness fairly radiating from the Seeker in his mind. Will had never feared Ratchet – respected him, certainly, but never feared – but right now he could almost understand the feelings from the Seeker, the sudden feeling of the snake and the mongoose and the realisation that being the stronger wouldn't help him now if the medic decided to strike.
"Who was in charge?" Ratchet asked flatly and made the Seeker tense in Will's mind, watching the medic with wary optics.
"I was." Unhelpful but true, and Will continued at the glare he got in return. "The human," he clarified. "I thought you were exaggerating about Seekers needing to interface. I owe you an apology. You were right. I woke up with it this morning feeling like I'd have jumped anything that looked even remotely interested and when I didn't want to go along with that, the Seeker suggested flying instead. We gave it a go, obviously. It didn't work very well, but it was better than nothing."
Ratchet snorted, clearly unimpressed. "So you decided to see if you could hit Mach three." Blue optics narrowed and this time even Will ducked his head slightly at the hard glare. "Starscream can keep up Mach three consistently because he was built that way. More importantly, Starscream can hit Mach three without damaging himself in the process. You're not made for the same speed as him, and if I ever catch you trying to do that sort of thing again without a valid reason, I will ground your aft until the end of the universe. Have I made myself clear, soldier?"
The voice was every drill instructor William Lennox had ever had and he responded instinctively, sitting up straight before he was even aware of it. "Yes, sir!"
Another long, hard glare, and then Ratchet brought out some unfamiliar tool or another and walked around the bed, and a moment later Will felt the medic start to work on his engines. He flinched instinctively at a particularly harsh sound of metal against metal but there was no pain to go with it, only an unfamiliar, uncomfortable numbness as his processors made him aware that the sensors in his engines were offline.
It was silent for long minutes as Ratchet worked and Will wasn't going to risk angering the medic further by making potentially stupid comments, and then finally the silence was broken by the sigh of intakes venting. "I don't know if that Seeker you're carrying around has reminded you, but a core instinct of the breed is to mate and spark. That excess energy is a way to ensure that the Seeker in question will seek out an interfacing partner or a more long-term mate, thus also ensuring an increased possibility of sparking an offspring."
The Seeker listened silently in the back of his mind and he got the vague impression of curiosity from it, the Seeker used to obeying its instincts but having never actually wondered about the reasons for said instincts before.
Mate and spark, Will's mind repeated, turning Ratchet's words over as he considered them and realised something else with a sick feeling to his stomach.
"The Allspark's gone," he quietly pointed out, and yes, it had taken them a while to realise the full consequences of the battle of Mission City, and years on he still hadn't stopped feeling bad about it. No Allspark, no sparklings, and there was nothing they could do now but slowly watch the end of the Cybertronian species.
"Yes," Ratchet responded. "I know." Another pause, and the sound of something metallic scraping against Will's engines. "Seekers are... unique. A breed of their own when you get down to it, I suppose. Seekers can spark. Primus knows why, and why no one else can, but that's how it is. They can spark and their instincts reflect it. We all have core programming that tells us that sparklings are to be protected, but in Seekers, that programming overrules most everything else in their processors, including their own spark and well-being. Factions don't matter. I suspect that even Starscream's trine would protect an Autobot sparkling if it was ever needed – certainly a Seeker one, at least." He snorted softly. "Take it from its creator by force and raise it as a Decepticon, but protect it nonetheless, in what passes for it in their world."
Something deep and instinctive stirred in Will's processors and the words didn't sit right with him. "Any Autobot would protect a kid," he said. "never mind the species."
"Not all Deceptions would," Ratchet responded, very quiet and very serious. "Not even a sparkling born of their own faction. The Seekers would, but most Decepticons are not Seekers, and neither is Megatron. Having wings and the ability to fly does not make one a Seeker, nor does it imply the mech in question possess Seeker-instincts. Keep that firmly in mind when that Seeker in you becomes too tempted by Starscream's offers. Remind it what else it would be agreeing to, and perhaps it will be less tempted by it all."
An unpleasant, unneeded reminder of just what sort of beings they were up against and Will suppressed an instinctive shudder as those same Seeker instincts responded to the thought as well, and he forced himself to change the topic before they could linger on the mental images. "I don't think it really knows what it wants," he admitted, and the silent feeling of sulking he got from the Seeker was all the evidence he needed that he was right. "I don't think it really looks any further than just a mate. It's really attracted to Starscream because of what he is but forgets about the rest of the 'Cons. It's even a bit attracted to Megatron, and we know what sort of mech he is." Clawed hands flexed and Will looked down at the still-alien part of him. "It'd probably be easier to just give in and go jump Ironhide, but my brain still sees me as married and interfacing as something really bizarre. It won't change in a week, and if I jumped 'Hide, anyway, you'd probably have my aft for doing it, and the Seeker would be completely in charge for the whole thing, and... that's not really fair, either, is it? To it or to 'Hide. We're supposed to be working together and adapting, and letting the Seeker deal with anything involving 'facing really wouldn't be fair to anyone."
The sensors on his back came online again to the feeling of soreness in his wings and engines, but less than before, and Will almost didn't twitch when Ratchet began to look over his wings, a gentle kind of firmness in the motions that made Will suspect that Ratchet had more than a little experience with Seekers – and in more than just theory, too.
"My apologies," Ratchet murmured, clearly distracted. "Your sensors need to be online for this. Let me know if any of them cause you pain. Seeker sensors are made to pick up on even minute changes in their surroundings, and while they are reasonably durable, you did push the limits of them."
Will hissed a moment later as the words turned prophetic with a touch of one particular sensor near the base of his left wing, and there was a sudden, sharp pain as Ratchet used some small tool or another on the sensor, and then it was over again, as sudden as it had arrived.
"You caused your engines to heat up further than they were intended to. Some of that heat affected the sensors as well. It's usually not enough to matter, but the heat this time caused the metal to cool wrong around them. It only hurts when something comes into contact with it. Until then, there would be a dull tension at the most." The tool moved again, targeting a different sensor, and his right wing tensed at the pain, the left one kept tightly in Ratchet's grip. "Keep this in mind next time you decide to ignore your warning displays."
Another sharp stab of pain somewhere in his left wing and no, it wasn't a lesson Will was likely to forget any time soon, and he could almost appreciate the way Ratchet did it, blending firm reminders of Will's own stupidity with useful knowledge of his new anatomy in a way that would ensure Will might actually remember both parts of it.
"It was that or jump someone," Will bit out as yet another sensor was identified and repaired, and then he sighed. His processors still felt clouded but not enough that he couldn't control it, and Ratchet's work only helped keep it in check. "Even if I wanted to do it the other way, I wouldn't know how. It's like flying – the Seeker's trying to teach me, but it's all instincts, and it's the same with interfacing. I get lots of graphic fantasies from it, but they're all bits and pieces of it, nothing solid. I wouldn't even know what to do, Ratchet. I'd be leaving the Seeker in charge for the whole time, and I don't think even it really knows what it's doing."
Silence for long moments, broken only by the soft sound of metal brushing against metal as Ratchet kept working, and then the mech sighed as well. "You can't pull a stunt like this every time, Will. You're going to push it too far eventually, and it won't work. I can feel that the energy is still in your body. You may have gotten rid of the worst of it, but the rest will still remain. That's why Seekers get unpleasant to be around if they do not interface regularly. To constantly deal with that sort of stress on your body and processors was not something any of us were constructed for." Another long pause and the clear impression that he was looking for the right words and then the medic continued. "Cybertronians as a species have quite a few less hang-ups and taboos in regards to interfacing than the human species does. I already gave you a lesson in basic Seeker programming. If you wish instructions in regards to interfacing from someone who has had actual experience with Seekers outside of the medical arts, I would not be averse to giving you that."
Will froze under his hands, and Ratchet continued before he could object, hands never ceasing their careful, measured work. "I am aware the Seeker sees me as a potential mate, and I am also aware that you and it have apparently reached some sort of truce regarding Ironhide. I am offering this as your friend and medic, neither of whom wish to see you injured because you decided to follow Seeker instincts and interfaced with someone inexperienced with Seekers – which would be most Autobots currently here. As I'm sure you have discovered, Seekers enjoy rough interfacing, but the fact that you are sturdier than you look does not mean you are invulnerable, and Ironhide enjoys a rough 'facing as much as any Seeker does."
Oh, Primus.
Will, to his credit, did not facepalm at that, although he did for a brief moment wish for any distraction – a Decepticon attack would do nicely, thank you – and then he groaned. "I'm not having this conversation. Please tell me I'm not having this conversation."
A hard twist of something on his wings that drew a sharp gasp from Will at the flare of pain, and Ratchet snorted. "You're having this conversation. You're a Seeker now, Will. This is what you are. The best thing for both you and it would be to find a way to work together. You will never feel properly at home in a Seeker body without those same instincts to help you. You need at least that part of it still present, and to have that, you need to come to terms with the Seeker. I am not telling you to lie back right now and think of Cybertron. I am telling you that the offer of instructions is there when you have had time to consider the situation and if you decide that interfacing might not be quite as abnormal as your human side tells you. I am aware that adapting will take time. I am aware that your bonded mate remains an anchor to your human side. I am simply telling you that the offer stands."
A genuine offer made out of honest concern, Will realised. Not because he was pretty or exotic or unique, but because Ratchet was honestly concerned and wanted to help in whatever way he could, and after a long moment Will nodded – slowly, hesitantly, but still a nod.
"I'll... keep it in mind."
It wasn't flat-out refusal, at least, and for the moment that was the best he could do. Ratchet obviously knew the same, because he merely nodded slightly and silence fell again as he continued his work on the young Seeker-build that was already lost in thoughts.
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Two hours later found that same medic in the presence of Optimus Prime, and one look at his leader told Ratchet he hadn't arrived a moment too soon. Of course he had taken a look at the recording of the conversation Will'd had with Starscream – Will's quick debriefing had only revealed so much, and the recording itself had shown so many more details that were all so very Starscream – and in some cases, so very much not, too. Mostly it had been pure Starscream, though, and that would always be bad news to an Autobot.
"I ordered him to recharge," Ratchet reported. "He'll be able to attend a proper debriefing tonight. For now, he needs rest. Excess energy or not, reaching speeds you were not built for demands a lot of your body."
"A wise precaution," Optimus Prime agreed quietly. "He did not have any serious injuries from his flight?"
"Minor damage. Unpleasant for him but easily repaired." Ratchet paused, took a good, hard look at his Prime, and changed the subject before the mech in question could object. "My opinion as your friend? The humans have a saying, Optimus. You're damned if you do and damned if you don't."
"Megatron was always gifted with words. There was very little he couldn't convince a mech of if he had sufficient motivation to do so. He... understood what desires drove the beings around him. He understood how to use it to his advantage." Optimus fell silent for a long moment, then continued. "Starscream learned well."
"There's a reason why most of the Seekers joined the Decepticon cause," Ratchet pointed out, his voice hard and unyielding and willing his Prime to understand. "Those are the facts and you know that as well as I do. Seekers as a breed were always arrogant, vain, and with a streak of brutality that was rarely very well hidden. They were Decepticons by nature. Megatron simply allowed them to give free rein to that side. Seekers were never Autobots by nature. Whatever you do, you are likely to lose. Rein him in and they will both start to fight against the sort of restriction that is unnatural to any of their breed. Let him loose, and you know that he will be targeted. Converted to their cause if possible and destroyed if not."
"Damned if I do, damned if I don't," Optimus Prime agreed softly. "How strong is he?"
The real question hung unspoken between them but Ratchet could easily pick it out, anyway. "Is he strong enough? I don't know. Even he doesn't know. For now, they seem to be getting along. For now, they both seem willing to adapt. Will it be enough? I don't know." Another long moment of silence. "I can't tell you much as your CMO that you don't already know, but my advice as your friend? Let him fly. Restricting him will not end well, no matter how you choose to handle it. If you give him his freedom, there is some chance it may work out. The human side may be strong enough to keep them out of the worst situations. There is a risk, yes, but there always is. To him, to you, to all of us. That risk was no less when he was a human, Optimus. He died as a human, in a war we brought to their doorstep. Give him a fighting chance. It may end badly, and I am no less aware of that than you are, but at least he was given that chance. Restricting him will leave him without even that."
Optimus Prime stayed silent for a long while, his calm stance betrayed by the slight tension in his frame, and Ratchet let him think and simply waited for whatever conclusion his leader would reach.
"Even in the darkest hours of the War, there was always choice," Optimus finally said, and Ratchet released the tension in his own body that he hadn't even been aware of. "When Cybertron was laid to waste, when no mercy was granted... there was always choice. It has been so long since a new spark has appeared that it is perhaps easy to forget. Whatever your origins, you always had a choice. Perhaps not much of one, at times, but it was always there. Even I had that choice – to defy or submit when Megatron rose. I thank you for reminding me, old friend."
Ratchet nodded and whatever fears had nestled themselves at his spark, images of four Seekers in the skies or the lifeless, burned remains of someone he called friend, he ruthlessly pushed them aside. "Let him fly?" he asked and needed the confirmation, a small bit of certainty in a situation none of them truly understood, and Optimus Prime finally nodded.
"Let him fly."