I wrote as quickly as I could

Of The Spark And Heart

Part 1

Chapter 13

At first, it was difficult to stay awake. Her entire day crashed down on her and forced her heavy lids to lower. It had been almost 3 hours since she had read that paper. The room seemed eery and unfamiliar, the openness like a cold, grey cave. The blanket offered her no warmth and she had thrown her pillow from beneath her head long ago. But to get back to the more familiar room she knew was like a marathon for an injured person such as herself. It sat in the fifth row, on the right side, with a welcomed supply of warmth or cold. Her shoes should be by the door, her report lain wide open on the counter. Terra hated to hide secrets from her, that being one of the reasons Fera took to her so well.

Maybe that was why Doctor Shelby had a direct informer from the main communications room. She was a paid person of this base, therefore she deserved to know. However, that didn't mean she was immediately told of anything that was going on. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her, so Fera guessed that was why she had that person running around for her. It was better than nothing, but hopefully it was safe. Fera inched closer to herself, already in the fetal position. Her hands were biting into the charm at her neck and they were far gone in sleep. They tingled anytime she shifted, like pins and needles under her skin.

Doctor Shelby hadn't left the room for a minute, standing nearby in case Fera lost control again. The shredded paper was thrown away, but a few remnants remained at the foot of the cot. For another time, the last nurse locked the door, and Fera was yet again left with her thoughts. The room was silent since the patients were now asleep in their own beds. Each of the nurses had already clocked out as the clock struck close to 8. Doctor Shelby had her arms crossed over her chest, a short stool pushed against the wall so she could lean on it as support.

"Fera, you should probably sleep. It would do you good." she commented softly. Fera merely nodded and stared ahead, intent on doing the complete opposite.

There was a grim knowing in her that if she did sleep, she would be put through nightmare after guilty nightmare. For years, she'd been put through that with her father. But then the realization had come through her that she wasn't able to do anything for him. She couldn't have prevented it. She still felt guilt, but it wasn't as harsh as the first few years. Now, with Sol's situation as it had been, she could have at least aided her selfish dues by being by his side when he passed. But since she hadn't been, his presence would haunt her. And that was going to last for a long, long time.

Fera blinked and glanced at the clock. 9:04 pm. How long was it now? she wondered numbly. 2 and a half hours? How many more of these do I have to go through in a year? 2 years? When will the pain dull? She shifted uncomfortably and peered over back at the doctor. "Who was that man? James Marks?" she asked roughly, her throat now dry and scratchy. The medic noticed the difference in Fera's voice and she took a few moments to grab a cup of water. Fera weakly sat up and took the cup, lifting it with both hands to her chapped lips. The heavenly liquid refreshed her parched body and she lifted it to finish it off greedily. She handed the cup back to Terra, who threw it away.

"Who was he?" she repeated, brushing both her hands and lifting a brow. Fera nodded and laid back down, feeling the twisting in her stomach and the unsuppressible darkness in her conscious. Doctor Shelby came close and slid to sit on the edge of the cot that Fera's feet didn't touch. "Well, he's a liason for the Autobots to put it simply." she explained bluntly. She looked down at Fera, who glanced back with puffy, red-rimmed eyes. "I thought Secretary Kepler was the liason?" she wondered in confusion.

Sol had told her...wait, no, don't think of that. She pushed that thought to the side and swallowed the lump in her throat.

Doctor Shelby leaned back on her hands and aimed her eyes at the ceiling. "He is. They both are. But Secretary Kepler is Secretary of Defense in the presidential cabinet. He is in direct contact with the president, where as Marks isn't. Marks is a colonel of the unit stationed here at this base. He offers his general information, who then talks to Kepler. Kepler then speaks with the president." she rolled a hand in the air and then let her head fall back. "He's a highly respected officer, but he's really young. Younger than me actually." she blinked and knitted her brow in hurt observation.

"How old is he?" Fera pressed, bring the woman from her solitary moment. Terra blew air from her lips and looked to her incredulously. "25. At least, that's what he has documented in his files. Most people in his position are at least 30, if not 40 years old before they reach the status of colonel. He's surprisingly calm about it though, like he doesn't even care that he's in high ranks." she shrugged and patted Fera's leg. "Don't worry about it. Right now, we're just going to get you through what you're dealing with now. I'm no psychologist, but I can see you are far from ok." she slipped away and Fera sunk into her cot, dribbling back into her struck sadness.

The clock ticked on, like it was just announcing the seconds flying by. At one point during that next half hour, Doctor Shelby's informer came in, glancing between the both of them. Fera's mother also came rushing in, hovering over her daughter with a comforting hand set on her back. She apologized for her behavior and said that Fera could give her a few words when she was feeling better. This didn't put even a dent in her mood. Fera barely blinked when her mother had come, and now she refused to say a thing as the woman sat down nearby, knowing her daughter needed the silence.

Doctor Shelby read over the paper for a few minutes before showing any kind of emotion. Her eyes then grew wide and she gained a small grin. Curious, Fera lifted her head and her mother watched her in interest. Fera brought herself to her hands and she stretched her stiff arms to hold herself up. Her legs tucked near her bottom and her shoes slid off. "What is it?" she wondered, confused at the doctor's reaction. Terra moved her gaze from the paper to Fera and then back, reading it over again. She then bent the paper, ripped off the extra, and then walked up to Fera's cot.

"Look at this." she pushed the paper forward and Fera took it, cautious. The last time she had taken a document from the woman, her world had crumble by the death of a friend. Now, she watched her suspiciously as she straightened out the crumpled sheet and looked over it.

Documented at 06:52 pm, in room 001701: Condition is unknown due to interference from chief medical officer. Condition logged in previous entry: Presumed dead.

Fera shoved the paper back and looked away, disgusted. "I don't want to read that. Don't show it to me." her tone was cold and shaky, her heart twisting with the missing piece now there. Doctor Shelby didn't take the paper back and Fera pinched her fingers tighter, refusing to look at her hand in the thought that she may tear it in little tine pieces. "No, look at it. Look." Terra insisted, gently shoving it back towards Fera. Fera slowly turned her head back and drew in a breath, opening the folded report again.

Documented at 06:58 pm in room 001701: Resuscitation attempted with no fluctuation in lobe activity. Condition: Unstable.

Documented at 07:00 pm in room 001701: Resuscitation failed, chief medical officer attempting and logging undertake of revival. Condition: Unknown.

Documented at 07:02 pm, in room 001701: Technique unrecognizable by way of codes documented in updated and current medical dictionary. Error in codes 102 and 110. Please contact chief medical officer. Condition: Unknown.

So far, this wasn't getting any better. Fera nearly handed the doctor the reports again, but she just felt her mouth dip into a deep frown. Her mother could be felt shifting to look over her shoulder and scan through the wording on the page.

Documented at 07:03 pm in room 001701: Patient reported retaining fluctuations in cardiac response. Brain activity has spiked. Condition: Unknown.

Documented at 7:04 pm in room 001701: Cardiac activity reported and logged by chief medical officer. Pulse detected and confirmed. Brain activity has returned to basic comatose status. Arousal has not yet been achieved. Condition: Revived.

Documented at 7:05 pm in room 001701: Patient is now resuscitated and is under servalience of chief medical officer. Current activities logged and documented in the exhibited area for further order by permission of ranking official. Condition: Stable.

Fera felt her head become light and she blinked. Read it again. And again. Her heart roused and uncurled, her stomach dropping. Her fingers tightened on the paper, threatening to puncture holes in the document. She lowered the report and lifted her head, blinking to clear her thoughts. Please, don't let this be some sick dream, she pleaded. Was he there? Now?

"I swear if this is some kind of joke, I'm going to strangle someone." she said, looking back at the doctor. Doctor Shelby raised her hands in innocence. "I didn't, nor would I dare. It's a legitimate document straight from the communications room. She had made a copy and brought it here immediately. I wouldn't even had had the time to tamper with it." she explained, proving her guiltlessness.

She set the report against her chest and gave a heaving sigh. Her muscles began to unwind and her stiff, seizing side relaxed. The fatigue in her body crashed ontop of her, nearly knocking her back on the cot. No one spoke for a few minutes, allowing Fera to have her moment of stupor. Patients' breathing drug on as they rested in complete ignorance of what was going on around them. Doctor Shelby was leaning on the door with a satisfied smirk on her face while Fera's mother watched her for a reaction. But little did they both know, Fera felt her whole world being thrashed around her like a rollercoaster.

So he was alive after all. Her debt was still unpaid, but if her threat to that mech meant anything to him, he would keep fighting. She'd said what she meant and if that meant going down to that room and slapping him back to reality, she would do it. No way would he leave under her watch. He wasn't that kind of give-up and die personality. She could tell that even though he displayed a sometimes infuriating personality, he was a warrior. Not just in name, but in heart as well. Maybe things would get better. That was, if Solas Kaon, apparently with the name of a former Prime, would survive the coma he now laid in and would wake to meet her scolding and gratifying greeting.

For the first time in all her depressed state, Fera felt a small grin playing across her lips. She set the paper aside and gazed down at it with a goofy smile. Terra and Sarah watched her, but neither said a word. Fera wanted to leave the room right then, she really did. However, she didn't think her legs would allow her to do that. Instead, she would just wait. Sol's coma wouldn't be letting up soon if she knew anything about medical facts. And besides, she didn't want to join Hound in suffering the extent of one of Ratchet's throwing fits. She would leave the mech alone as he surely sat in wait for Sol's next reaction.

"Thank you Doctor Shelby. Thanks mom." she nodded to them both and just laid on her side, her posture less restricted and stiff. Her arms folded close to her and she held her necklace tightly. Doctor Shelby and Sarah exchanged a glance, but didn't say anything. Fera sighed and kept her grin, unable to help it.

He's alive. He's alive, she kept repeating this to herself over and over in an endless stream of reassurance. She blinked and then closed her eyes, allowing her tired limbs to ease into a much-needed sleep.

Doctor Shelby and her mother stood, leaving the room and shutting off the light. Fera's mother probably went to the medical room-now thought of as a temporary home to them both-, while Doctor Shelby went her own way. The darkness closed and Fera reveled in the warmth she got from the charm in her hands. If her father was looking down on her now, she hoped he would be proud. She'd gained a friend, lost him, and then gotten him back all in the same week. It was a shock that she hadn't had a heart attack yet. She couldn't say the same for her mother though.

Seriously, there was no patient that had given him as much trouble as Solas Kaon had in the last few joors. Ratchet vented a sigh and rubbed the heel of his servo into his foreplate, trying to dull the cranialache he held. He darted his optics towards the patient on the table and he scanned over the many lines of energon and other life-necessary material surrounding him. A pump sit connected to his vents to keep them from folding and collapsing until Ratchet could replace them. Scanners and pulse monitors were in direct contact with his main systems such as his spark and CPU while a separate system watched the activity in his neural processors.

The operation on Sol's spark casing was halted immediately with the dimming and temporary extinguish of his spark. Ratchet had been in the process of fitting the new case, taking precise and particular measurements when the monitors had gone off. He'd dropped his tools and had proceeded to try stabilizing the spark. It was when Sol had gone offline that Ratchet had felt his frame go cold. He had gone on to then transfer more energon lines into Sol's frame and he searched for the source of Sol's issues. It was a dislodged circuit connected to his CPU and a major leak by one of the weldings Ratchet had made over the worst of his wounds.

Ratchet hurried to reseal the wound, which led to another spring and a heightening of his spark's erratic behavior. He struggled to contain the pulsing wounds and he had even went to the point of sending a comlink to Wheeljack, who didn't answer. Snorting in irritation, Ratchet had continued to close off the leaks and make an attempt to link to someone. Sideswipe was recovering, Hound was on duty in a border patrol, Optimus was with Rethalia -who should have been recharging-, and Mirage was off again with Sargent Epps. So what was Wheeljack up to? He brushed by Sol's spinal relay and found the problem to be mainly focused from that. The damaged piece was halting the signals to Sol's CPU, so he was unable to naturally mend any minor or major leaks.

Ratchet started fiddling with the program, which sent a series of unwanted reactions to his CPU involving his already unstable spark. The spark had began to beat out of rhythm and Ratchet checked the monitors, seeing the uneven pulses. Cursing the Pit, Ratchet was then stuck for the next breem to struggle with the spark. He had used an electronic defibrillator, melded the main energon line, fixed a jarred pump, and closed off his casing. But the spark sputtered on, suddenly coming to a complete stop with no warning whatsoever. That was the point Ratchet had lost his patience. Wheeljack was contacted again, and Ratchet focused solely on the spark.

Sol was loosing his life fast, meaning Ratchet had only less than a breem to revive him or he would lose a patient. Wheeljack arrived with a few words of confusion and then witnessed the situation. The technician was only trained in above basic medical material, only able to aid in operations. Ratchet bellowed orders and instructions, using the dischargers in his hands to hover on both sides of Sol's spark. There was a brief flash of energy released between the palms and the spark jumped. Sol's body leapt into the air, only to fall limp on the berth again.

"Wheeljack, where is that casing?!" he yelled. His dischargers went off again and Sol's frame jumped. "Where the frag did you put it?!" he retorted back. Ratchet snarled and whipped around, sharply pointing a digit at the far corner where a toolcart sat. On it was the clear, diamond-shaped form of the casing.

Wheeljack retrieved it and handed it to Ratchet. "His spark is stalled, what are you planning on doing?" he asked, watching in anxiety. Ratchet placed the casing aside and ignored the mech's question, ordering the retrieval of more tools. Ratchet passed the electric current between his palms maybe twice more before Wheeljack returned. "His spark is unstable, this isn't a good idea-"

"Then what do you suggest we do? Let him just sit and die? Sorry, don't plan on it." Ratchet demanded, turning on his comrade. The CMO then turned back to his work and went to cut off the main lines, keeping only the pump and a minor connection open. He disconnected the spark cups and deactivated the hover absorber so the spark would only be supported by the connected function wire located atop the peak of the spark.

"Enter the override code for shutdown." he ordered, using the seam of the casing to gently pry open the temporary seal and expose the sensitive material. Wheeljack didn't argue, but only walked around and opened the hatch at the base of Sol's helm. Ratchet could hear the slow whirring of his systems shutting down and the backup functions kicking in to keep his feeble body alive. Ratchet grabbed the new casing and imprinted Sol's unique genesis code, reformatting it so it would match his original casing perfectly. He then brought it close to the original spark. The life inside was so dim that it now barely glowed, showing that it was near to failing.

It had worked over the normal limit of a spark to keep Sol online and alive, meaning it had worn down faster than should have been possible. This warrior was a fighter, that was for sure. Now Ratchet knew just what Optimus had seen in that small soldier almost a vorn ago, giving permission for upgrade to his higher officials. Ratchet uploaded the main functions and system overview into the new casing and he let the energy take its time bleeding into its new, complete home. He placed the old and broken spark casing aside and reconnected the cups and turned on the hover absorber. The spark floated smoothly and revolved in its space, the light inside brightening slightly.

Ratchet brought all of Sol's programs on the new spark casing back online and he made sure each was up to date. He then removed the clamps on the main energon lines and allowed the flow of energy to enter the spark. Immediately, he saw a change. The core grew brighter and the systems began to steadily build up and run its regular scans or reboot process. Ratchet had eventually drew back and waited patiently for Sol's system to finish. When it did, he shut the casing. Wheeljack was told to enter Sol's restart program and he complied without a word. The monitors stopped their annoying blares and proceeded to come in-sync with Sol's spark.

Ratchet then walked away to sit where he was now, resting against the edge of a storage crate that'd been shipped to him earlier that Earth day. He rubbed the bridge of his noseplate and had begun to feel the beginnings of the cranialache he felt now. And when the time caught up with him, he found himself looking up and lowering his servo to find Wheeljack. He was standing off to the side, his digits hidden behind Sol's cranial unit. He removed his servo and stepped back, rounding the berth to walk over to another crate across from Ratchet. "So," he began, falling back on his aft and leaning his elbow joints on his kneebolts. "what next?" he shuttered his optics and watched expectantly.

The medic again sighed and glanced at Sol. Wheeljack was an old friend of Ratchet's, but he knew how to get on the mech's last wire. Now, Wheeljack was just, well, there. And Ratchet couldn't quite figure out how to answer. He himself had asked this and each time he had brushed it aside. Sol was making progress, but by now he should have had the new casing and had melded those loose weldings. Sol's armor still needed to be worked on and yet their armory smith, Hawktail, was back at the base in Washington D.C. His brother, Bluestring, was stationed in Sand Diego. Neither would be able to get to them in the near future unless they could transfer Sol somehow. That only leaved Ratchet to fix the problem.

However, there was one other, but he refused to see them as any better than himself. It was a small -barely into his final framing actually- mech named Thunderflare. He was Cloudsong's brother and he was currently being apprenticed by Hawktail in smithing. He was a quick learner like his sister, but he was also inexperienced. He'd shown promise as an artist, but what use is a painter in war? So he had taken up the work of armoring. It was reported that he was near here on a mission to retrieve a special metal for Hawktail. He was probably their only hope.

"I was thinking of activating his restoration program." Ratchet noted, looking back at the technician before him. Wheeljack's optics hardened and he glanced down at his locked terminal links between his kneebolts. "Are you sure? He'll be set back into default until you restart his systems. he could lose his logic sensory and you would have a lot of trouble finding it again. Not only that, restoration programs have been known to delete 'unnecessary data'." he warned. Ratchet nodded knowingly. "I'm going to speak with Optimus and Rethalia about it, and about contacting Thunderflare. Right now, that apprentice is our only resource of a skilled smith."

Wheeljack sat up and screwed his optic ridges. "Really? Ratchet I trust you, but an apprentice? He's still a class C." Wheeljack cocked a servo towards Ratchet and then locked his digits again. Ratchet ran his servos over his legs and leaned back against the wall. "Yes, I know. Hawktail and his brother are both A classes, which means that either where good teachers for the apprentice. He could very well know more than I, which means he is a far better worker on Sol's armoring than I would be." he explained. Wheeljack nodded and leaned back on his elbow joints. "So, what if he can't fix Sol some new plates?" he wondered. Ratchet looked at his friend from the side of his optic and then Sol. "Then I guess I'll be the one responsible for creating a set until Hawktail can get to him."

Ratchet heard the click of Sol's systems and he stood, walking over and inserting the cable in his digit to the back of Sol's helm. He entered in the necessary code and Sol's final functions kicked in. At the moment, his spark was stable and so were his systems, but that couldn't be expected to last. The main concern laid in the more major leak beside Sol's spinal relay. The significant cable was clipped and was hanging on by only a few feeble wires. Sol would have to go through another serious operation. Ratchet set a servo on Sol's chassis and stared at the wound that was putting this mech through so much trouble. There was no doubt that it had to of been point-blank. Otherwise, it would have to have been a plasma cannon powerful enough to be Megatron's.

Solas' entire spinal relay would have to be removed and his frame would be completely paralyzed. Every main sensory wire and chip then needed to be reconnected and the CPU neural networking systems would be restarted. But, Sol's files and memory core must be downloaded and set aside so that everything could be returned to him. Even then, this would be risky. Sol could lose ability in his actions or movement, or even his CPU could be damaged. Thankfully however, Sol had the most experienced medic of the Autobot faction working on him and one of Ratchet's specialties was working on the central neural network and sensory reception grids.

Ratchet turned away from his patient and checked on the energon transfers, seeing their levels at a good amount. Just to make sure, Ratchet tapped the needle behind the round sheet of glass and it wavered, swinging like a pendulum right back to where it had been. Pleased, Ratchet walked back to his seat across from Wheeljack. The mech shuttered his optics and laid his cranial unit against the wall behind him. It would be awhile until Sol's systems are even up to mediocre levels again, so maybe Ratchet could get some rest too.

The room fell silent except for the hissing of the door once again opening and closing. There had been a small female in a white coat in the room every so often for the past few joors, but Ratchet didn't pay her much attention. How could he when he was so intent on keeping his patient alive? But she now seemed to leave yet again, allowing a humming silence to blanket the room. Ventilation ducts that hung above the two mechs clicked on and the dull, hot smell reached Ratchet's nasal receptor. His optics shuttered and he peered across the room at the obviously still awake technician. Now was a rare opportunity for relaxation and yet Ratchet couldn't fully calm himself. Instead, he felt the odd urge to lighten the mood.

"So," he began, shifting into a more comfortable position.

"how about that Greenlight?" Wheeljack cracked open his optics and snorted, shaking his head incredulously.

He's alive! :D

Sheesh, you guys don't know how much I wanted to tell you all this...