They were allowed to stay in the medbay that night. The influx of new patients had died down for now and the bay was dim and quiet other than the occasional scuff of feet or quiet murmurings of the two guards that still stood sentry at the door. It seemed peaceful in an odd way. The calm after the carnage was all said and done with.

Despite the quiet, Ratchet couldn't sleep. The metal cuff around his neck felt like it was suffocating him. The metal wasn't even that heavy, but the weight of it felt like a knife against his throat. He shifted, trying to find a comfortable position but every time he moved, it felt like the cuff was dragging him down. He tugged and pulled, but when he checked the tightness of the device, he was easily able to slip three fingers under it, though there wasn't enough slack to slip it over his head. He sighed in frustration and shuttered his optics, trying to clear his troubled processor. Peace remained elusive.

Perceptor had called it a kill switch. He was young, but the little scientist was rarely wrong. Ratchet had no delusions that the Cons would show mercy for any mech wearing it that stepped out of line. A quick radio ping sent to the right frequency and they rejoined the Well of Allsparks, their bodies left to hang for spare parts. To Ratchet, it felt like he was halfway there already. Spec's warning hung heavy on his processor, making the metal seem that much tighter.

Welcome to the Decepticon ranks. Killing them off was a waste of talent. Talent that they must desperately need. Why else would they go through the trouble of tagging them? The Cons were doing their best to keep them scared and vulnerable, using it to make them compliant. Just as Spec had said, it was a cheap and dirty guarantee. The University mechs would jump as high as they were ordered to to stay alive.

Ratchet rolled onto his side and looked over to see Wheeljack's dim optics staring up at the ceiling. His friends optics flickered to him for a moment before looking back up, focusing on some unknown spot on the plain white tiles.

"What happens now?" Wheeljack asked, keeping his voice barely above a whisper in the quiet medbay. He looked tired and drained, just like Ratchet felt, and he could tell his friend hadn't slept a wink either.

Ratchet shook his head, his optics half lidded and sighed, feeling the last traces of his old self disappear in the gust from his vents. He felt hollow, like the confident University student who had so many prospects had ceased to exist entirely. Instead, a displaced mech had take his spot, drifting along the line between life and death, not knowing which way he would fall and too damn tired to care anymore. "I don't know," he said hopelessly.

Jack ran a hand over his mask, a nervous habit he'd just recently acquired. "Hey… on the bright side, at least we're still alive. That's saying something, right?" he said, giving a weak laugh that sounded closer to a sob.

Ratchet rested his head against his hand, trying not to think too hard about Roadflare and Lunar and the countless others that hadn't been as lucky. "Yeah," he murmured. "At least we have that."

"They wouldn't keep us around if they didn't need us… we just have to bide our time," Wheeljack said and Ratchet could tell he was saying it to assure himself just as much as he was trying to assure Ratchet.

"Bide our time until what?" Ratchet asked.

Wheeljack sighed. "I don't know… rescue? Liberation? Whatever comes first, I suppose," he said. "Until then, we just have to play like good little Decepticons until we can get out of here."

Ratchet looked at his friend. "Would you join up with the Autobots?" he wondered. He'd never really thought about it himself—the war was always so far away, but now he'd been thrown into the midst of it and it felt… necessary to pick a side. He certainly felt no loyalty to the Decepticons, especially not after what they'd done, but did he feel any more loyalty to the far removed Autobots? Did he even know anything about them other than they were the state-sanctioned enforcers? Other than meeting Trailbreaker and one recruiter who had come to talk to their class a couple years ago, Ratchet had had just as little exposure to the Autobots as he had to the Decepticons until a couple of days ago.

Judging by the look on his friends face, Wheeljack had thought just as little about it as he had. "I don't know… but… I guess it feels like we're gonna have to pick a side soon, ya know? I mean… if Praxus and Kaon are really under their control… this might keep getting bigger."

Ratchet swallowed and nodded. The repercussions for attacking Praxus could be monumental. They had been after Kaon. Yet firebombing the entire city hadn't had the desired effect. But the Senate with the Autobots backing them would hit back harder now that the threat had grown even larger, there was no doubt about that… but what then? The Cons had proven after the firebombing of Kaon that they weren't a group that could be easily destroyed.

"I… don't want to make that decision yet," Ratchet admitted and rubbed his helm. He wanted to remain neutral, just live his life happily as a Praxus graduate who would have companies begging him to join up with them.

Wheeljack gave a mirthless laugh. "Hate to say it Ratch, but for now, that decision's been made for us," he murmured and toyed with the band around his neck.

Ratchet snorted, his hand reaching up to tug at the collar. "Well and thoroughly decided for us," he muttered petulantly.

Wheeljack grinned. "Like I said. We'll place nice. Go with this until something changes."

Ratchet sighed. "You make it sound so easy… what if nothing changes? What if we are stuck here until they finally decide to offline us?"

Wheeljack looked at his friend and gave a wry grin. "We wouldn't let that happen," he said. "We'd make the change ourselves."

Ratchet couldn't help but snort a weak laugh and rolled onto his back. A moment of silence passed between the two of them before Ratchet said, "I'm glad you're here, Jack."

Wheeljack chuckled quietly. "I'm not," he said and stretched a bit on the berth. "But since I am, I'm glad you're with me."

Despite everything that had happened, Ratchet smiled as he looked up at the ceiling. "Thanks Jack," he said quietly and closed his optics with a tired sigh.

Sleep never truly came to the young mech, but he hovered comfortable somewhere in between, drifting on a fog until morning. Without him really registering it, Spec appeared over his berth, looking down at him with a frown. It wasn't until the medic shined a light in his optic that Ratchet realized this wasn't some sort of bizarre dream and focused his optics. He looked up at the mech, dazed and a little surprised. Spec snorted.

"You didn't sleep at all, did you?" he asked.

Ratchet frowned and slowly sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. "Did you really expect anyone to in here?" he wondered.

Spec gave a thoughtful frown and shrugged. "Point taken." Next to them, Wheeljack sat up as well, looking just as groggy, while Perceptor lay curled up tightly on his side. From his angle, Ratchet couldn't tell if he was sleeping or not.

Without preamble, Spec plugged into Ratchet's system before running a quick scan. "Your repairs took. You're all set," he said and unlocked Ratchet's ankle from the berth.

"Set for what?" he asked warily, even as he looked down at his freed appendage in surprise.

Spec glanced back at him from where he was already running a scan on Wheeljack. "You're a medic, aren't you?" he asked. "Look around you, see what needs to be done."

Ratchet gaped at the mech. "What? No— Spec, that's illegal. I don't have my stripes yet," he protested. He hadn't graduated or gotten his license. For him to practice medicine like this was completely against the law.

Spec finished with Wheeljack before heading to Perceptor who only curled up tighter, even as the mech plugged into him. "You didn't seem to care that much when you were patching up your friends," he pointed out, and Ratchet couldn't think of a reply to that. "Besides, you're a Decepticon now. Who the slag cares if you're breaking some Autobot law? You're qualified. That's all that matters."

Spec unlocked Wheeljack and Perceptor from their berths before whistling loudly. One of the guards by the door looked up and walked over, the sizeable gun in his hands making all three of the University bots nervous. Spec pointed to Ratchet. "That one stays here." Then to Wheeljack. "Engineering," he said and pointed to Perceptor last. "He's a scientist—you can stick him wherever you need him."

The guard nodded before checking his datapad, scrolling down on the screen. "We'll pair him with Landslide," he said.

Spec barely suppressed a wince. "Sorry kid," he muttered and clapped Perceptor on the shoulder.

The young mech looked at them, optics wide and fearful. "What? Sorry—why sorry?" he asked even as the guard grabbed his arm and easily pulled him off the berth and to his feet. The guard ignored him and grabbed Wheeljack as well before steering both of them towards the door.

"Don't even think about it, Ratchet," Spec warned as he made a move to run after them. Ratchet stopped dead in his tracks and swallowed thickly, his tanks churning with fear.

"Spec, please. Perceptor's just a kid! He can help out here—he knows what he's doing," he pleaded. He didn't know who Landslide was, but he could guess it wasn't a good thing to be paired with him.

The medic shook his head. "Sorry, my hands are tied," he said flatly before turning to clean up their now empty berths.

Ratchet spared him an uncertain look before he ran after his friends, screwing the consequences. The terrifying thought hit him that this may be the last time he saw them, and the weight of the idea seemed to drag his spark into his tanks. If this was the last time he would see them, he would never forgive himself if he didn't at least say goodbye. He caught them before they reached the door and yanked both of them out of the startled guard's grip into a tight hug, arms over both of their shoulders. He could feel Perceptor shaking and Wheeljack was tense as a brick wall, but relaxed as he returned the embrace. "It'll be okay," Ratchet whispered, his head close in-between both of theirs. "We'll be okay." He heard Perceptor's quiet whimper before the guard smashed the butt of his gun hard into Ratchet's stomach.

The wind was knocked out of him instantly and he collapsed to his knees, doubled over as his vents struggled to catch up. The guard snorted disdainfully and yanked Perceptor and Wheeljack away from him and out of the sliding medbay doors. Ratchet could barely move and watched helplessly through blurred optics as the doors slid closed behind them with a sense of finality. Whatever fight he had left went out of him and he gasped raggedly, dentals grit so hard that the metal creaked. He rested his helm against the ground, fighting back tears and the boiling scream that threatened to erupt from his vocals. He didn't notice Spec walk up behind him and barely felt the gentle kick of a pede against his.

"Rule number one," Spec said lightly. "The guards? Don't screw with them."