Time Key

Astrosecond: .5 seconds=Groon: 1 week

Nanoclick: 1 second=Orn: 2 weeks (13 days, but I rounded :P)

Breem: 8.3 minutes=Quartex: One month

Joor: 1 hour=Decacycle: approximately 1 year

Kalon: 1 day=Vorn: 83 years

Click: 1 minute

Repcycle: The length of holding of a sparkling (400 Decacyles)

Just 'caus I'm feeling merciful ;)

Enjoy!

Of The Spark And Heart

Part 1

Chapter 19

Let me go! This is what had started the event. It had all then led up from that. He had been in a dark surrounding, cold and relentless to his fear. He couldn't move anything and he couldn't see anything. When was the last time he'd even seen the ceiling? He would take joors, even quartexes of that boring picture before him than be subjected to this. There was only numbness and a horrible falseness in his spark. Something was forcing him to continue on, but he was so tired. He felt the suffocating masses surrounding him and cooing in his audio receptor to just give in. But that tug of war with him continued on. All he wanted to do was be left alone.

Let me go, he told it.

I don't like it here. I don't like this darkness.

It was like a floating black sea, taking any sense in his consciousness and throwing it from him. When he had first come here, he had been in so much pain that he had screamed until his vocal processor was shot. But his screams had been quiet. Oh so very, frighteningly quiet. He sensed someone was nearby, but couldn't move or speak. He could only think and wonder.

He was left to his imagination and no matter what he did, the very same scene that had taken place before him repeated over and over. It had become clear that he was unable to stop it when he had tried pushing it away, only to have it come back. It had been a confusing and jumbled experience- being left in his CPU for so long. The lack of refreshing the memory had altered it and he was afraid it had become what it wasn't.

There had been another mech there, he knew that. And he had been injured, he recalled that too. He could even imagine the pain. That pain was maybe what helped keep his sanity. He was afraid to fall back into the nothingness and the shadowy afterthoughts, so he'd held on to it and replayed that one moment when his body was blasted and he begun to feel his spark begin to dim inside the agonizing heat. It had been a long, long time since he had gone on to the rest of the vision. But he knew there was more to it, a reason behind why he was here. It was a strong sense, much like a protectiveness he couldn't explain. What, or who, could have been there?

Slowly, he scanned through the memory, only stopping right before his cranial unit had fallen and his body was left in a debilitating wave of agony. The images froze and he strained on them, zooming and pulling back- studying.

As of late, this had been one of his favorite pastimes. Other than this relay of information, he would often create fake pulses of pain or frightening experiences just so he could remind himself he wasn't deadspark. Death had once been something like a normality in his life cycle. There really wasn't a fear that came along with it, because he knew what would happen when he left the living. He could go into battle with his mandible held high, no sense of nervousness or concern in his optics. He had been such a feared warrior, but he himself had felt no fear. Then, something had happened to him that unlocked that feeling.

He didn't like that feeling. Fear brought upon him a sense of helplessness and utter disdain for whatever made him fearful. It had happened so suddenly, brought upon him by something not so long ago. It was a disabling sensation he acquired when he gained fear in his spark. His gears would lock and his frame would grow weak, his tanks churning. An uncontrollable CPU would run ramped and his spark would beat erratically. Fear brought him to his kneebolts and drew any strength he had. Fear was his worst, most hated enemy.

Now, that emotion grew in his spark, with those words it inflated. There was a crushing feeling of concern inside of him that he grew confused by. What was that inside of him? What was he feeling? Could that be worry? No, it must be fear. His enemy had come again. It centered around something new yet familiar to him, circling and stalking as if it planned to snuff out the tiny light. That fear was surrounding that small presence in his spark. He recognized it somehow and he had welcomed it; called to it even. But it had its own fear, a draining, drowning fear that frightened him with it. Always fear.

He couldn't tell what was happening to his new connection, but it felt panicked. This feeling confused him and it pained him. Usually, he would welcome that pain, but instead he drew away. That affliction was not his own, and even if it was that new presence's, he would try not to join them. The small pulse beat harder and radiated unease and fear and a pleading connection. Why was it suffering so much? What had this small spark done? That fear was too large for the small spark to take on by itself and it was surely going to be destroyed if nothing happened soon.

A new-found defense surfaced in him and he came closer. Slowly, he called to what he assumed was a spark, but the small life pulled away from him. It was dim with weakness and he felt an anxiety at sensing this. He came nearer, prodding it and asking it to let him protect it. It was so small and fragile to even the smallest of brushes. But looking inside, he was able to see that the glow wanted freedom, but it still wished for the shield and the reassurance he offered.

When he finally reached out for the spark, it paused. The tendrils of his own presence seemed to nearly cover up the smaller spark with just his size. He was massive compared to this new spark, and he understood its uncertainty. But for some reason, he tried harder, and he took up the spark in the protective boundaries of his own.

Almost instantaneously the spark calmed. It melted into him and allowed him to push away the fear and pain it felt. With his comforting embrace, it began to pulse in a steadier way. With his new companion calmed, he too grew more relaxed. He was no longer alone. No longer afraid. That new feeling drew through him and gave him a wonderful new experience, pushing away his nerves and the nothingness he felt. But it was still so weak, so vulnerable.

Don't die, he pleaded.

The small spark inside his own warmed with his voice and it grew brighter if only slightly. For some reason unknown to him, he was full of hope. Hope and relief. His small friend was going to live. And he would move Pit and world to make sure they stayed that way. He didn't know why, but this and more felt similar in some way. It pulled to him again and called for him, wanting to be closer. How could it be? It was already inside of him. Yet even then, they could sense each other, but frustratingly, he couldn't communicate with it. Those few words were the last he could get through and gain a response from- which had been extremely difficult anyway.

This whole process was confusing and frustrating, causing him to fill with irritation. The small spark edged away uncertainly, but he clutched it back, regretting the feeling. The darker emotion removed itself from him completely and the spark returned back to its place. As to why he felt like he was calling for the spark as it called for him, he had no clue. Why he wished for such closeness was also bewildering. It was as if he was sharing a piece of himself with someone and they wanted to bring it back to him- just to have it close if when he felt saddened by the loss. When did he deserve such kindness? A strong feeling overcame him when he'd decided he was to protect the spark. Only because it was so fragile and because it was so small. He was large enough to offer the support it needed and he could keep it safe. It welcomed him warmly, which filled him with happiness when he realized it actually excepted him. Such a nice feeling in a world of dark and nothingness.

The spark in his own radiated kindness and a familiarity he couldn't place. It was his only light and he held to it as not only its support, but his own as well. Again, he tried speaking to it: who are you? he asked gently. The spark pulsed in response to his words, but it didn't respond. Why didn't it answer? He let it become attached to him and he vowed to protect it and it still didn't speak to him. Was something wrong? It didn't seem afraid or worried. It actually was quite content in its state of numbness. Numbness? Was that why it couldn't reply to him? That was it. He would leave it be until it became stronger. Then he would ask it again.

The spark stayed in its place, but it also seemed to get closer. How was that possible? It grew brighter and seemed to curl around his spark now, crawling small tendrils of its own around him. It called to him, without words, but he heard and understood. It was leading him somewhere, but where? There was no telling where it would take him, but he pushed away the uncertainty. He could trust his small spark. It trusted him. And that was enough.

At first, he moved slowly, coming through the way leading him on. The spark grew stronger, beating in tune with his. Their sparks grew impossibly closer and they reached out, knitting curls of their essence together. Light expanded and blossomed from the contact and he froze at the suddenness. Spikes of the glow shackled themselves to the inside of him and flowed along in his limbs quicker than he could react.

Before he could even speak at the action of his small companion, the cold numbness in his gears and throughout his still mind stirred to life. He was abruptly held in place, locked there as pure energy filed through him, warming him and forcing light into his darkness. He clutched tighter, trying not to lose this new strength that flooded through him from the spark he thought so fragile and weak just sparkbeats before.

It pulsed and a wave ran through him, racking his body. Light exploded before his optics and just like the nothingness, light was all he could see. Heat seared inside of him and tore through his spark, swirling around it and embracing it in a new-found rage of epic surrealism. Surges of intense activity passed into his CPU, across his body, and through the rest of him in an endless cycle of extravagance. He felt intakes of air rushing in him and their attempts to try to calm the heating, but it was so pure and strong that they faltered. His entire view was nothing but white, then light blue, then white again. The energy zipped through his circuits and up his spinal relay to his CPU.

Every memory of his entire life cycle ran along his wiring and became refreshed, bursting with a renewed vigor he hadn't felt since...well ever. He nearly exploded from the feeling inside of him, but that energy just now coincided with him, rushing through his lines and coursing in his very energon at shocking levels.

When it all seemed to fade all too suddenly, he jerked and held that small spark near, trying to support its weakened state. It clung on to him pitifully in attempts to stay alive. He called to it, begging it to stay online. But he couldn't speak- his vocal processor wouldn't allow him to. In fact, his entire frame seemed in a paralyzed-like status. That lasted for about a nanoclick before absolute, agonizing pain blanketed him. His vents choked with the prevention of his intake systems and he struggled to take in the very available oxygen around him.

His vocal processor fought to stay online and he felt his chassis heaving with the jerking movements. Coughing the debris from his throat and vents, he moved what he felt was his optics and they buzzed online, flickering. Everything was blurry and filmy for a few shutters of the optics before he was able to actually see.

See. He could see! The darkness was gone!

Confused and full of worry for the small spark presence in him, he searched for it. He could sense it near and he tried desperately to find it. Where was it? When his optics finally clicked back to a moderately tolerable state, he shuttered them and saw the familiar grey concrete ceilings that usually met his vision before when. But no matter the normal lackluster of them, he couldn't be more relieved. He could see and he could process and he -as well as the small spark- was alive. That was all that mattered.

His body still felt the new lack of sensation that the small spark provided for him, even though he knew full well he should have been feeling Pit. Maybe it was an attempt at keeping him from the agony he was surely going to face later. Any time he seemed to change mood too fast, it perked and reacted quite anxiously if he were feeling anything that wasn't good. He knitted his optics ridges and noted the coldness of the berth beneath him, the ashy grey of the room before his optics, the slightly odd scent from the ventilation shafts overhelm. It was so good to actually be able to feel again.

But before he fell into the contentedness of life, he snapped to attention faster than any mech in his state should have been able. The small spark couldn't be seen, and he panicked, searching once again. His cranial unit lifted and he looked for it. It was near, he knew. He could sense it.

Then he saw it, or who it was. She lay perched atop his chassis, her eyes wide and her hair wild. Her skin was pink and looked faintly burned, red spots blotted across the surface. Sol made a move to speak, but the words never left him as her bright blue eyes dimmed and grew bleary. The small human collapsed atop of him in a limp heap, her form startlingly still. Confusing fear built in him and he furrowed his optic ridges. The spark inside of his own beat steady and even, right before him. But how was any of this possible?

She didn't move, but the spark did dim a little. That shocked him enough that he sharply pulled from his confused stupor and he lifted a servo over her, laying it gently across her body so as to not crush her. She was cold. Too cold for his liking. Fright overtook his fatigued form and every screaming wire was ignored as he abruptly sat up and cradled the small female close. Having her so near had the small spark inside of him growing marginally brighter and he strained to understand. That protectiveness he had felt returned and intensified when Fera didn't respond to his touch. Just as a precaution, he reached out for the small spark, only to get the same unaffected tone as before.

Grim realization hit him and his digits curved over her. A groan cut through the air and Sol's helm snapped up. Laying back against the wall, one servo laid against his foreplate, was Ratchet. His optics flickered before coming completely back online. The sound of his systems sounded less than what would be considered normal, but for Ratchet, that was normal.

"Primus almighty human, you nearly killed me." he rumbled. Abruptly, Sol shoved himself off the berth and he strode towards the mech, who seemed to suddenly remember the female. "Fera!" he called, removing his servo from his faceplates. His optics were wide and he seemed about to search for the missing human. Annoyed at the medic's lack of attention, Sol got low and used one servo to roughly shove Ratchet against the wall. Ratchet's optics went wide in shock and he jumped.

"She needs help." Solas said hardly, slowly moving his servo and holding it close to Ratchet. Ratchet shuttered his optics a few times before looking down. The limp human was suddenly taken from Solas and he became anxious with the break of contact. "Solas, how are you awake? You were in a coma." Ratchet insisted, moving Solas' servo so he could stand. Sol followed suit and the both of them hurried from the room.

"I don't know." he hissed angrily. "Just help her." they walked on in silence, Fera's wellbeing far more important than that of the situation.

Ratchet came to the main lobby where they found Bumblebee talking with Sideswipe. The two young mechs looked over and saw the medic and Solas, their optics widening as well. Bumblebee clicked and Sideswipe hurried forward, trying to get a look in Ratchet's grasp. "Is that Fera? Wait, nevermind that. Solas, how the slag are you awake?!" the silver warrior demanded, suddenly switching his interest from the human to the Guardian. Solas wore a dark and very serious mask of anger on his faceplates. With a voice locked in anxious irritation, Sol answered, "No time to explain." and the mech moved to come before the human's medical hall.

"Someone is injured! We need help!" he roared. No one would be unable to hear him. He was sure of it. When he stood, he moved back to stand beside Ratchet. Every so often he would dart another nervous glance at Fera, who was breathing, but otherwise unresponsive. "Are these humans broken in the audio processor?!" Ratchet growled. He himself came towards the hall and stayed there for a moment.

Sol nearly broke through the wall and got someone on his own. Didn't these humans care for their own kind? Sol wanted to take Fera back into his servos as his concern increased, but he stopped himself. A few of the humans dressed in white clothing came out of the hall and saw the hovering Ratchet, causing most of them to jump back in surprise. "Miss Lennox is in need of assistance by one of your doctors. Get her to them." Ratchet ordered firmly, offering the human.

The mech behind him held back a feeling of worry and he watched as the females came forward and took Fera carefully in their own care. When the humans disappeared from view soon after, Sol's chassis rumbled in disapproval. What would they do to her? Reaching for her, he found that the little spark inside of him reacted as he did, proving his awed prediction. He could feel its rushing waves of comfort and reassurance as he stared intently at the empty doorway.

"Solas Kaon, you have a lot of explaining to do." Ratchet caught his attention again and the mech whipped his cranial unit towards the voice.

Immediately, he gained a defensive tone. "What explaining? I don't know what the Pit is going on!" he exclaimed. Ratchet crossed his arms in that all too familiar glare of skepticism and Sol rounded on him. "You really expect me to suddenly wake up and know everything? Sorry to disappoint you, but I have no fragging idea." he emphasized the last statement and opened his digits in an attempt to further his words. Ratchet huffed and ordered the two other Autobots from the room. Seeing the escalating and confusing scene before them, they both left as fast as they could move without actually running.

"You were unresponsive to any and every tactic I used to resuscitate you, even when I shocked your spark." he commented, turning back to Sol. Solas' optics widened and he pressed a servo to his chassis. "You did what?" he asked, shocked. Ratchet uncrossed his arms and gestured towards Sol. "You were flatlined, offline, deadspark. I had to revive you otherwise you would have joined the Matrix. I also had to replace your spark case and your spinal relay." he counted off each grim medical procedure with a dry cutoff. "It's a miracle you're alive." his voice had softened and the irritation in his faceplates drained.

Sol let his servo fall from his chassis and he stared at the medic. Had he really become so close to death? Instead of the dismissive feeling he usually had about the subject, he grew nervous. His priority would have been left without him and he would have failed at what his duties called of him. "But how am I awake?" Sol asked, trying to distract himself. Ratchet paused and then shook his cranial unit. "I don't know. It most likely had something to do with that incident between Fera and your spark." the mech trailed off and lifted his digits to pinch his mandible point, his optics trained on the floor.

"That doesn't help!" Sol blurted in frustration. Unlike Ratchet, Sol hadn't been aware of anything going on around him. How could he have? That darkness was everywhere...

"I know it doesn't, but neither would anything else I tell you. I can practically hear your spark from here and telling you anything that would set you off could only stress you further." this gained the medic a growling response. "You need to rest." he added lastly. Solas clenched his digits and began to pace, something he did often when he was anxious. "Frag it Ratchet, I don't need rest! I've had enough of that! I need answers." Solas said, not looking over once. Ratchet watched the form before him move from side to side calmly.

Solas was a skilled mech, yes, but he was also an emotional and impatient one. No matter what, he would strive for answers- even if most were unwilling to give them. He could just feel Ratchet's gaze burning into his form and he suddenly felt vulnerable in his protoform. "Solas, once everything calms down, I will be more than happy to tell you what happened. As of now, I have no clear understanding myself, which puts to rest any hope of explaining it to you." Ratchet went on. Solas felt his spark flare and he stopped dead in his tracks, lifting a servo and trying to sooth the small spark pulsing in his own. It calmed at his attention and returned to a normal pace.

This was all just impossible. It can't happen. If it was, he would question everything else he knew in his life cycle. The creation of a spark inside a spark? No, no such thing. Sparks could only be created by fembots or the AllSpark itself. The Stone of Primus was special in its own self, but could it do something as to make life? Since nothing had been studied with it, it very wall maybe possible. But this felt so...different. It wasn't like the regular pulses of the companions he shared a regular link with. This was more in-depth and eerily personal- as if this tiny spark essence could simply reach in and search all of his memories, emotions, and everything he'd ever known...

"All I know is Fera was there when I woke up and now I feel absolutely fine. As if I hadn't been asleep for...how long?" Solas shook his helm and tilted it up. But with his CPU in almost complete shutdown when he was in that deep comatose recharge, there was no way he would have been able to count the kalons.

"A quartex and almost a groon." Ratchet stated bluntly. Sol groaned and laid back against one of the walls of the room. This was all just a series of redundancy, repeating in either Fera or Solas ending up unconscious or injured in some way.

This couldn't possibly be normal. This entire situation, could not be normal. He'd always known she was going to get hurt, but so often? He was slowly breaking inside, knowing this inconceivable force of sick fate. It couldn't be stopped, no matter what he did, no matter what length he went to, he couldn't protect her. Pit, even his life hadn't been enough! "All I do is get her hurt. Nothing I do keeps her from getting put in the way of harm and everything that happened to her has always come back to point at me." he lifted his servos and set them over his faceplates, as if he were too ashamed to even look at another being.

Ratchet didn't respond to his comment, leaving Solas to slowly slip down the wall. There was always that one mistake he made that always came back to bite him. He'd left her alone the first time; she was stabbed. He left her alone the second time; she was attacked by a Decepticon. He left her alone the third time; she collapses. A flurry of different feelings mixed through his spark and assaulted his CPU to jumble every though he processed. Was this guilt? He wouldn't be surprised if it was, for he more than deserved it. Fera was in an unknown state, not reacting to the call of her name when he'd held her. Not even the small presence in his spark was offering any light to the situation.

"Ratchet," he called through hit knitted digits, "what happened while I was in recharge?" this question was full of a dread Sol couldn't help but voice. And the medic's silence only worsened the confusion and agitation in his spark. "There was a Decepticon hacking in one of the main grids." Ratchet said, all too coldly. Solas felt his frame shudder with the numbness coming from the small spark's connection and he grew concerned. The endless cycle of his worry turning to its panic and then his comfort turning to its calmness. But then that calmness would become suspicious and start all over again.

Once more, he was bombarded by the memories of his dream and his abrupt waking. Disdain and fright at this file had him pushing it away, only to have the glitch return and freeze on replay. Over and over and over and over...

"I don't give a slag about the main grids. You know exactly what I meant." the realization that hit the Guardian on the floor had him dropping his servos and glaring at the mech before him in anger. There was a moment of quiet and then suddenly a buzzing in his systems. They went fuzzy for about an astrosecond before clicking back online. He snarled in disbelief when he realized what had happened.

"Did you just scan me?"

Ratchet lifted his bracer and went over the information. "You're spark is unstable." he squinted his optics, "And there is something different about it. You need to recharge for a few joors before I look at it." he lowered his arm, "The recharge isn't for your lack of energy. It's to calm you down." Ratchet stood still as Solas leapt to his peds and came within inches of his faceplates. "Like Pit I will." it was only a low rumble, barely anything considered speech. Solas felt his optics turning a deep blue as his anger climbed. Why was Ratchet avoiding his questions? Something was wrong here- off in some way. Ratchet glared right back, only causing the blind rage in Solas to heighten.

"Answer me Ratchet. What. Happened?" he demanded lowly. The medic raised his mandible in defiance and he whipped around, cutting off the contact between himself and Sol. Sol saw this as a move of disrespect, leaping forward and grabbing his shoulderbolt to swing him around.

Now Sol was an often rash being. He was more than not the first to come into battle, the first to get injured, and the first to blow something up in a fit. He couldn't count on his digits how many times a limb had been replaced and he'd been near joining with the Matrix. And in that time, he had been able to build quite a list to use as experience. But what he hadn't encountered before was the strength possessed in a medic.

Ratchet whirled on him and slammed the back of his servo into Sol, knocking him to the wall. Sol felt the brute sting behind the strike and all of his anger suddenly faded, turning to shock. The small spark's connection flared at his sudden emotion and continuously poked at him until he assured it he was alright.

He stared at the seething CMO before him, hunched in anger and cold scorn. Both of their vents whirred angrily, their optics locked. Sol's optics returned to their normal color and his faceplates dropped into a hard mask of unreadable emotion.

Ratchet stood straighter and gained the same look, watching Sol carefully. "You have stepped into a world I cannot help you from Solas Kaon." he stated, releasing a long flow of air from his system. Sol stared down his peer with an unwavering sense of betrayal. A medic, striking the sanity into his patient? "Fera has been through too much for you to add to the mix. Have the decency to realize I don't just do what I do to anger you, I do it to keep the health of my comrades at its height at all times. Yes, she gets hurt and yes, she will be put through a war she has no business being in. But why in the Pit do you feel it is your fault?" Ratchet demanded, clenching his servos.

Sol didn't answer, just stood very still. His anger was an all-consuming blanket of inescapable wrath and he was unable to stop it himself at times. But this...this was something else added to that anger. He felt helpless and unable to protect the one thing he was placed to do so for. Never before had he'd been given such an important task. It only took him this long to fully comprehend what he'd been entrusted with.

When the irritated warrior said nothing to his question, Ratchet straightened and he seemed to dull in his sudden agitation. "Can you predict when she will be injured next? When the next Decepticon will decide to attack? When one of us will deadspark?" he swung his servo around, "Please tell me you can, otherwise, I don't want to hear you blame yourself for her again unless it really truly could have been prevented by your power. Compute?"

For a moment, Sol just stood. Was it really that simple? Could he stop the self blame and instead focus on what Ratchet believed? In all truth, he had a point. It was idiotic to dwell on unstoppable events. But often, that blame would be uncontrollable. What he put her through was actually something he could have prevented. If only he had been a better Guardian; If only he hadn't brought her to that reststop; If only he had never met her...

No, no, that thought was too distant to even comprehend. With her presence becoming so familiar in his everyday normal, he couldn't even imagine what it was like before. If they had never met in that rain, on that day, where would he be? Where would she be? More than likely, she would have lived a normal life. But that necklace around her neck would have involved her eventually in his struggle. Their meeting couldn't have been prevented forever. It was a simple concept to grasp, yet it had so much meaning behind it that he felt himself relax. The essence inside of his spark also calmed, giving him a new feel of tranquility in his overwhelmed frame.

He nodded to Ratchet and he loosened his threatening stature. Ratchet also seemed to settle, his faceplates twisting in what seemed like light concern. There was no need for this anger. There was no need to put Fera through more than she had already experienced. He himself had felt his body lifted in a new energy that he had never felt before, and he guessed that had been from whatever Fera had used to wake him. Could it be possible that she...no, that was such a far-fetched idea that it was almost comical. Almost.

"But I'm not going to recharge." Solas commented stubbornly. Ratchet heaved a heavy release of air and a small, but noticeable grin came on his faceplates. "Do you ever listen to me when I tell you to do something?" he asked in fake exasperation. Sol leaned against the wall again, feeling even the small contact was comforting. "Not really. Not if it's something I don't want to do." he retorted back with a mischievous lift of the helm. Just a click ago, they were going to tear each other apart. Sol more likely because of the unexpected turn in Ratchet's actions. The CMO raised and optic ridge and looked at him incredulously.

"I have sedatives."

"And I have a fist."

"Which can be held down."

"But my ped can replace it."

"Which can also be restrained."

"Not before I knock you senseless, you old scrapper."

"Sometimes I really question a mech's sanity. Yours I fear is long gone."

"Oh, what a nice thing to say."

Giving a snort, Ratchet crossed his arms and started walking towards the door. When he reached it, he paused and turned back to Sol as the mech once again sat on the floor with his spinal support against the wall. "I'm not going to keep you from doing what you have to do. But just remember that some things cannot be prevented. And that it's not your fault." and he turned to leave.

Sol hadn't even shuttered an optic at the comment as his kneebolts came up and he set his arms on them, watching the floor intently. He was caught up in his own world, wondering and asking so many questions that he couldn't answer. These grew and split and turned to even more questions. That familiar helplessness he knew he held inside of him returned and he let his cranial unit sit on the barrier behind him. Ratchet was right, but so very wrong at the same time. Things were not always black and white, but full of arrays and variations of different colors. There was always some way, no matter how small, that something could be prevented. Hope was one of these ways, but it was often overlooked. Much like fear.

The thought almost made him snort in a mocking humor. Two of the most powerful emotions, often left to collect dust in the back of the mind. They would come up every once in a while, but only when everything around them called for it. However those few who recognized the fear and hope in life, who drew towards it even, were among the wisest of any beings. Those who accepted fear and hope became stronger. If you denied one, then the other would grow stronger. In the words of his instructor, Sol pulled up a small quote from his time on Cybertron: "You must have the balance of a dancer to learn the ways of the warrior." such a meaningless statement at the time. And yet, the view of it has become so different now. Here was the warrior. But he was no dancer.

Four times now. Really? Just in one month, she had fainted more than she had seen a baseball game.

Ok, maybe that wasn't a good comparison seeing as she had only been to a few games. But beside that!

Fera moaned and cracked open her crusted eyelids to gaze into a blaring white light before her. Her head was swimming as if she'd spun around in circles and her chest felt constricted for some reason. Spots danced before her eyes, soon fading back to a normal hue. Her fingers and toes tingled and her throat was parched. What happened to me? she wondered in a muggy mind, swallowing back only dryness. Her breathing was even, but her body felt wrecked. There was a soreness in practically every inch of her body, as well as a thumping headache in her skull. Even her fingernails pulsed with the tiredness.

A deep thrum in her forehead had her squeezing her eyes shut and shifting her head again. She wanted to lift her arm to rub the ache, but she couldn't move that hand. Confused, she tried harder and only found her efforts were useless. With a heavy head, Fera looked up and over her body. She had to blink a few times and stare like an idiot over her own form before she could even understand.

Strapped over the blanket provided to her were four long strips of black bands. They pressed firmly to her, encasing her in a cocoon of blanket. Fera's eyebrows knitted and she slowly moved, stilling feeling the symptoms of whatever sedative the nurses had given her. For once, she was actually glad they drugged her. She had to get some sleep right?

Frustration creeped up inside her when she found she couldn't even lift her legs, providing an explanation for the sleep her feet were now put through. She curled her toes and hands, throwing her head back with an upset and loud groan. The air was chilly to her nose and ears, but her body was perfectly warm despite the cold. There still was a firm wrapping around her abdomen and she shifted slightly to make sure everything was still working. Satisfied for now, Fera strained her neck and looked around. No one was in the room, which was confusing. There wasn't any music playing or mess laid anywhere. Her drawing pad was on the countertop and her clothing was no where in sight. This meaning she was either clothed completely in cloth like some type of samurai or in a hospital gown.

The camera hanging down from the wall watched her from its little black bubble, a small glint came from its surface and Fera squinted at it. Well there's something familiar, she thought sarcastically. Set in the sleek covering was also a picture of her, showing exactly what kind of condition she was in. It wasn't a clear picture, but it was enough.

She found her body stripped against the white of the blanket by the restraining straps against her. Her hair was in a fray and her skin looked flushed with what she suspected as a minor burn. Her abnormally dark eyes had dull bruises under them and her face appeared colored a rosy sheen. She quickly averted her eyes and instead focused on the cabinet. Suddenly, they had become much more interesting.

That small presence she had felt earlier, pulling her to Solas, returned, and Fera burrowed her eyebrows in discomfort. There was an urge to climb from the bed and return to Sol, but she just shifted with the anxiety. There was a tingling in the back of her mind, more mental than physical. She blinked and watched the door, expecting something to happen, though nothing did. Her very bones ached with her movements and she ceased them, only to become increasingly distressed. Why did she feel this way? Where did her body want to take her? That once small sense inside of her grew bigger and stronger startlingly fast, consuming her in a warm wave. Immediately, she calmed and she just leaned back against the bed.

Such a familiar feeling came to mind when she felt that presence. It was full of protection and an unspoken promise. Curiously she reached for it, only to gain the same response she had gotten the first time she had tried the same motion: nothing. There was only an emotional response, not verbal. But that was enough. Her body was numb to the pain she should have felt, leaving her with only a persisting headache.

The door abruptly broke her from her solitary moment, causing her to snap her head to the side. Wincing, she searched out the source of the entrance. "It seems you have had quite a wake up." the stranger said, coming closer. It was a man, average height with cropped black hair and pretty green eyes. He was wearing baby-blue scrubs with a white coat over the top. Grinning in a pained humor, Fera huffed and looked away. "That only skims the surface. What happened to me?" she asked, moving against her restraints again.

The doctor -or what she assumed him to be- stood at the foot of her bed and laid his hands over the footboard, watching her calmly. "Doctor Shelby has only given me enough information to tell you that you were electrocuted." he said smoothly. Fera rolled her eyes to the ceiling and closed them at the sight of the buzzing light above her. "Kinda got that." she retorted, dropping her face again.

"Can you tell me anything else?" her hope was obvious, but it was crushed as the doctor shook his head. "Who are you?" she asked next, trying to distract herself. He was a stranger, but he seemed nice enough. Maybe he could offer the company she needed.

He paused, then walked over to the countertop, speaking as he went, "My name is Doctor Peters." he stopped at the overhang and reached for something, turning around and then leaning on it, holding a clipboard in his hand. Was that where everyone gets their information? she wondered, far used to seeing the small metal boards by now. "I see you're the famous Fera Lennox I've heard about." he put in, flipping through the papers. He stopped at one and chuckled softly.

Fera moved her head to look forward again and she grew irritated once again at her lack of available space. "Yeah, I'm not really known for having a good track record." she blew air from her lips and attempted to wriggle her fingers by the edge of the restraint, trying to pry her long fingers to the clip. "I can see." he commented. Fera nearly growled in frustration, continuing to get herself free despite the slim-to-none possibility. Giving up, she threw herself back down and said, "Why am I being held down? I didn't do anything wrong." her eyes found Doctor Peters' as he scanned the paper for a moment before dropping it.

"You were having convulsions. The seizures needed to be contained, so you were restrained until the correct treatment could be administered. It seems now that you appear to have gotten over it." he mentioned, looking back up at her. Fera shrugged against the mattress and heard the crinkling of the sheets as she did so. Her face twisted in feigned discomfort when she was actually just pouting because she couldn't move freely. "Well could you remove them then? They're making me anxious." she strained against them again as evidence.

Doctor Peters threw the clipboard aside, where it slid across the countertop. He then stepped forward, stopping to put his hands behind him. "No." he stated simply. What was with the dramatic silence beforehand? Fera knitted her eyebrows and her nose crinkled slightly. Heat built in her ears and spread through her body, turning the arches of her ears pink.

"Thanks, you're so helpful."

"Just following orders."

"You're a doctor, right?"

"Hence the title."

"Then help a patient out!"

"I was explicitly told not to let you leave this room."

Fera saw her chance and she stopped her sluggish struggling. All of this wasn't even doing anything for her. There was a small sting coming from her hands and ankles, telling her that all she was getting from her attempts at escape was a rash. "But that doesn't mean I can't be free." she put in matter-of-factly. Doctor Peters thought about this, his silence telling of his consideration. He then sighed and started around her bed. A bright new look came over her tired features as she watched him carefully. "If Doctor Shelby tries to chew me out, I'm blaming you, ok?" he asked, not even looking up as he worked on the straps covering her. Tightness that she hadn't noticed lifted from her, starting from her ankles. Doctor Peters traveled up the length of her body, releasing her from her prison.

The moment Fera felt her body free, she leapt from her bed and just as quickly, regretted it. Her knees buckled and she fell to them hard, her head rushing in vertigo and her limbs nothing less than a baby deer's. Cold shocks of stone tinged her legs and traveled up her legs and hands as she tried pushing herself to her feet. Footsteps hurried to her side and Doctor Shelby reached down, grabbing her arms firmly. "Really? I help you out of the kindness of my heart and you try running away?" he demanded irritably. Fera allowed him to help her up and she was slowly led back to her bed.

"I wasn't trying to run." she objected hotly. "I just wanted to stretch." her arms came up and she did exactly what she said, moving her arms high above her and straightening her legs. Small, unpainted toes reached and then curled, cracking softly. Doctor Peters was back at the door, waiting beside it as if he felt he'd have to catch her when she tried escaping. "Right. I'm going to pretend I believe you." he responded in plain suspicion. Fera dropped her arms and glared at him, wishing that her new company would just leave her be. Now that she was free, she could draw and just relax until her battered body returned to normal.

But that ever persistent presence was poking at her, seeming to want to make contact, only to stay silent as she reached back.

"Can I at least get some water? I'm dry as a desert over here." she asked dramatically. Doctor Peters nodded and turned, walking out the door. As if realizing his mistake, he backtracked before the door closed. "Oh, " he held up a finger, "and so you know, there is a couple of soldiers out here watching for you. Just 'cause we care." he winked in an absolutely infuriating way and Fera clenched the bed before she said something she'd regret. That smug man walked back out the door and let it close behind him. Fera groaned and let her body fall back against the bed, letting her eyes travel to the ceiling.

The grey concrete was plain as ever, still without marks or an interesting set to them. "No privacy, no freedom, no real clothes..." she listed, grumbling. The camera bubble caught her eye and she glared at it. Just some fresh air, that's all she wanted. It would make her feel a heck of a lot better, and the sun would be a welcomed change. But these people felt she was some kind of ceramic doll, keeping her inside all hours of the day. She knew Ratchet would want to speak with her about that 'incident' that happened in Sol's room. However, the truth was Fera didn't even know herself. All she could remember was her necklace heating up, a truly indescribable feeling in both her heart and mind, and then darkness. That's all. Oh, and the electric shocking she'd gotten of course.

Grabbing one of the pillows beside her, Fera chucked the soft missile at the camera. It bounced harmlessly off and fell to the floor with a pitiful puff of air. "It's you people who are making me lose my mind." she shot at the black dome. "Just one freaking minute in the outside world, is that too much to ask? But no, the only time I can see the sun is when I'm abducted by some Decepticon. Thanks!" she faked happy gratitude as she narrowed her eyes at it one last time before silence settled on the air again.

"I'm talking to a camera." she let her shoulders sag, "I've officially lost it."

When her eyes moved away and she let her chin hang, she watched the door. Where was Doctor Peters? Annoyed, she slipped from the bed and walked to the door, pausing as she remembered his warning. That sensation started up in her heart again and she placed a confused hand over it. It seemed to be searching, wanting to know something. Unknown as of why to even her, she sent back a feeling of reassurance. She was ok, so it didn't need to worry. The feeling dimmed back as it appeared satisfied with her response.

Without hesitating now, Fera opened the door and cautiously peeked out in the hall. Her body slacked and her head fell. As to why she didn't shriek in anger, she wasn't sure. This was a common occurrence. Lying was a normal thing.

There was no one in the hall. Absolutely no one. Not even a nurse.

Looking up at the clock on the wall, she saw it was around 3 'o clock; between shifts. She hurried out of the room and down the hall. Everyone must be at lunch, she guessed. Maybe now she could figure out just what was going on with her heart. She would have to avoid Ratchet if she was going to do that though, and that meant watching every step she made. There just had to be an explanation for this, no matter how outlandish. There was a pulling in her heart from the presence and she felt her steps quicken.

All former soreness in her seemed to slip away and her feet felt to move themselves. She didn't know where she was going, or why, but she followed anyway. This was exactly the type of attraction she had felt before her unexpected blackout on Sol's chest. It was perplexing, but oddly exciting, as if she were going to meet a friend she hadn't seen in years. In fact, that was exactly how it felt. Even the thought of seeing whoever she was after had her almost sprinting down the hall.

She burst through the doors of the middle of the hall and she was happy to find that there was only one person in the room, sat behind a desk, staring at a computer. She hadn't even looked up at Fera's abrupt entrance. Fera darted a look at her in disbelief and she once again started her path.

It didn't take that much longer for her to feel the pulling in her heart reach a new level. It was now out of her control now, dragging her on with a need she felt was stronger than any pain she'd ever experienced. She hurried down through the way before her, her steps clapping against the hard surface and bouncing sound across the walls. That feeling grew stronger and she felt closer to whatever was calling to her. It grew and strengthened, overtaking her in an expectancy she couldn't place.

Fera came through the door finally, her chest heaving from the energy she had used. Her breathing inflated through her lungs and stretched the bandages over her torso. The room spread out before her, large and drafty. Her head felt like it was spinning, the lights above being blotted by black dots. Woah, she thought as she swayed slightly. Her thoughts swirled and the blood rushed to her head. Her vision bled to black before fading back to normal, leaving her with a heavy feeling in her forehead. She rubbed the spot with her hand and blinked to relieve the feeling. The presence was all-consuming now as it griped her in a pulsing clarity.

The instinct of her sixth sense had her pausing for a moment and looking beside her. Who was there made her jump and stumble back, her arms flying to the side to keep her balance. The Cybertronian was sitting with his back to the wall, his knees pulled up and his face aimed at the object in his hand. He was holding a large, clear cube of slick blue liquid. The contents of the cube swirled around aimlessly as its holder seemed to have no desire to do anything with it. Fera dragged a hand through her hair and blinked hard, begging them not to be deceiving her. The grey mech hadn't seen her yet, his focus much more on the cube in his hand with an almost peaceful look on his face.

Finding her voice, Fera finally spoke up. "Hey." she called.

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