Thank you all for your patience with this chapter! I hope it's worth the wait :D
"You'll be back soon?" Wheeljack asked, his concern evident in his voice. A few days of rest and repair had done wonders for the mech. He had a healthy glow to his optics again and his systems were running strong once more.
Ratchet offered a wan smile as he double checked his supplies. "As soon as I can," he promised. "The Cons have retreated from Charr entirely—Magnus has given us the all clear. We're going do a final sweep of the battlefield and send the fallen off properly." He closed his overly full subspace and sighed. "There might still be wounded mechs out there. They need my help."
Wheeljack still didn't look happy but he settled back onto his medberth. "I would say I'd like to come with you... but truth be told, I really, really don't," he said. "I don't envy that task."
Ratchet sighed. "Yeah, me neither," he muttered. "But the good news. Your systems have evened out and your autorepair's kicked on at full strength out so take this as my permission to get up and walk around. The dropship is gonna be here in four days so get your fill of this wonderful area of Charr before it's too late," he added.
Wheeljack snorted. "Primus, four days," he said. "I still can't believe it. We're going home."
Ratchet smiled at that, but didn't voice what they were both thinking. Even while the Autobots had pushed their final advantage and run the Cons out of Charr, the clock had continued to tick. The bomb was set to go off in two days. There was still a possibility that they wouldn't have a home to return to. He banished the thought, though that nagging part of his processor couldn't help but see the irony in getting so close to returning home, only to have it snatched away once again.
A comm. pinged him. "You ready?" Ironhide asked.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," he said back. He pulled Wheeljack into a quick hug. "Keep Perceptor company for me, would you?"
Wheeljack grinned and returned the embrace. "Of course."
Ratchet hurried to Ironhide's location, climbing up a ladder to take him above ground where the red mech and his collected group waited. He recognized a few faces and it was only now that he was able to get a good look at the three striped medics that had been out in the trenches. He had gathered that the two ground-alt mechs were named Kit and Lexicon, but they seemed to defer to the third mech—a flier that was red and white with areas of blue on his chassis and hands. He was older than the rest of them and it showed in the weary expression in his optics. He hadn't had a chance to learn his name yet, but as the mech talked quietly to Ultra Magnus, he seemed to stand a little straighter before looking directly at Ratchet.
Ratchet did a double-take, making brief optic contact with the mech before heading towards Ironhide, not certain that he wanted to know what they were talking about. The red mech was bellowing orders, getting every mech organized for their sweep of the battlefield. When he was finished, Ratchet nudged him. "Who is that?" he asked and pointed to the medic.
Ironhide glanced over. "Oh, that's Pharma," he said. "Magnus just named him CMO of this battalion. You might want to report to him—he's in charge of medical personnel now."
Ratchet snorted. "No thanks. I don't want him mistaking me for someone he has authority over," he said with a grin. "I'll stick with you. It worked out well enough last time."
Ironhide raised an optic ridge at that, but Ratchet detected a hint of a smirk. "Whatever you say, mech," he said before sending the comm. to move out.
Ratchet followed along behind them, watching groups branch off in a grid pattern so they could search the entirety of the field. The mechs got to work with a mechanical sort of practice, clearing the Autobot fallen from the field and the trenches. Ratchet kept within optic range of Ironhide as he picked through the battlefield, checking for any injured. After a short while, he started sending out hailing frequencies out, wondering if any injured mechs would be able to reply. A few moments, later, he registered pings from the other medics who started doing the same.
By mid-day, Ratchet was feeling discouraged. He hadn't found a single mech that he could even begin to help, and he knew the others were having similar success. Only six mechs had been found and two had passed before they could even be loaded onto a transport. Cybertron's suns were beating down on them in unity today and Ratchet reached into his subspace, pulling out a cube of coolant as Ironhide carefully helped load up another body onto a transport.
He had set his hailing frequency to automatically send out every couple of minutes, and it wasn't until halfway through his cube that he noticed the faint reply blipping on his HUD. He nearly choked on his cube, wondering how long that reply had been there without him noticing. He looked back at Ironhide, but the mech was busy passing out orders to a group of mechs. He hesitated for only a moment- they hadn't run into any hostile mechs, or even any alive mechs for that matter. What danger could there be?
Quickly, he finished off his cube before heading in the direction of the faint signal. It was originating from a ways away, far closer to where Pharma and his group are. He couldn't help but wonder why they hadn't announced that they'd detected a reply and were going to investigate. He checked the hailing reply again and it only took him a moment longer to realize that the comm. was encrypted.
Whoever sent the frequency had sent it specifically to him.
He swore and looked back at Ironhide one more time, but he had already moved on, helping load up another fallen soldier. Pulling his gun out of subspace for good measure, Ratchet continued towards the frequency, keeping an optic out for any hint of a threat.
He could handle this.
He picked his way through the rubble, keeping his gun gripped tightly in his hand. The comm. frequency got stronger and stronger until he felt like he was right on top of it. He squinted through the midday sun, seeing Pharma and another bot in the distance, but at this part of the battlefield, there were barely any signs of the fight. No bodies, no char marks, barely any signs of shrapnel or bullet damage.
So where the frag was he?
Ratchet sighed and carefully stepped over a rift in the metal ground. There was a groan of straining iron before his foot fell through, and only quick reflexes stopped the quickly widening hole from dragging him down with it. He felt the familiar falling sensation and quickly grabbed onto a seam in the metal before he could fall through completely, his leg dangling into open air. He swore and held on tightly, praying the metal he was holding on didn't give way as well. The metal stopped crumbling and he heard the clatter of the last few pieces of debris hit the ground below before he finally relaxed enough to look down into the breached vein. And found a pair of purple optics looking back up at him.
Ratchet's optics widened and judged the drop before letting himself fall. The landing jarred his knees and made his dentals rattle in his head, but as he looked at the two, two, mechs down here, he knew he had made the right choice. Only one was conscious and he held his partner's head cradled in his lap, other hand gripping a shaking gun that was aimed directly at Ratchet. He barely noticed it, focusing instead on the grey edges to the other mech's armor.
"You an Autobot?" the mech asked, his voice shaking as badly as the rest of him.
Ratchet dropped his gun and carefully held up his hands. "No, I'm not. Not really," he said.
"You a Con then? Yours was the only comm. that wasn't on an Autobot frequency," the mech said, indigo optics eying him warily.
Ratchet took a tentative step forward. "I'm unaffiliated. My name's Ratchet," he said. "I'm... an impartial party in this stupid war you all are fighting. But if you don't let me take a look at your friend soon, he's going to die in your lap."
The red mech swallowed, optics pained, before he finally lowered his gun. Primus, they were young, younger than Perceptor by far. Far too young to fight in the Autobot army, but as he glimpsed the purple insignia against the mech's red armor, he doubted the Decepticons had issues sending younglings to die. Ratchet hurried over and knelt next to the two, pulling his medkit out of subspace. "What happened?" A part of him wondered why he was doing this. Hadn't he said that the Decepticons had gotten what they deserved?
The red mech smoothed a hand over his partner's helm, optics bright and distant. He looked... destroyed, his entire demeanor speaking of a pain that bordered on the physical, though he didn't seem to have more than a few dents on him. "Some bomb went off. He shielded me and got hit," the mech said.
Ratchet swallowed and hooked his scanner up to the yellow mech even as he leaned in close, examining the entrance wound carefully. It had punched straight through his armor, which was no easy feat- both him and his partner had thicker armor than was standard. Chances are it had severed a number of energon and coolant lines.
"How long has he been like this?" Ratchet asked. His optics glanced the purple insignia on the yellow mechs chassis, right next to where the shrapnel jutted out like a ragged flag. Why was he still helping them?
"A day and a half—right before the retreat. I dragged him here… thought it would be safe," he said.
Ratchet nodded and knew that the shrapnel was the only thing that had kept him alive for so long—remove it without proper precautions and he's bleed out in a matter of minutes. He pulled out a packet of med grade energon and carefully attached the shunt to the mech's neck. "What's your name, kid?" he asked, trying to keep the shocked red soldier occupied.
"S-sideswipe," he said.
Ratchet sighed and pulled out his laser scalpel, carefully cutting a line in the mechs yellow armor and peeling it back enough so he could see the extent of the damage. "How old are you, Sideswipe?" he asked.
The red mech scowled and looked away, focusing on the yellow mech instead. "16 vorns," he said.
Ratchet snorted. "Don't play me for a fool kid—you haven't even had your final upgrade yet. I can see right through that extra armor," he said.
The red mech scowled audibly, optics narrowing. For a moment, Ratchet didn't think he would answer, but he finally murmured, "10 vorns, alright?"
Ratchet nodded, even as he winced inwardly. The yellow mech didn't seem any older. These two should by with their creators or at a youngling center, not in the middle of a fragging battlefield. He swore quietly and focused his attention on the injury before him.
The piece of shrapnel had embedded itself pretty deep, almost scraping the side of the mech's spark casing. Fortunately, it had missed and had just severed two energon lines and a coolant reservoir. The coolant reservoir would have to be replaced, but as long as the mech didn't strain himself too much, he could do without it until it was fixed. Fortunately, the cut was surprisingly clean- the thick energon lines by his spark would just need a few quick welds. He'd need a full coolant and energon flush to get rid of any contaminants that had made it into his lines, but overall, the mech had gotten very, very lucky.
"Are you a Neutral?" Sideswipe asked at last. "Why are you with the Autobots?"
Ratchet leaned in close to the yellow mech's chassis, zooming his optics in to get a better look. "I was kidnapped and taken to Kaon. They were the first mechs I found after I escaped. And I told you—I'm an impartial party." Was he really? When he'd talked to Wheeljack, he had felt a bit of vindication at the destruction of the Decepticons forces in Charr, had even thought they deserved it. But these two young mechs certainly didn't, and he felt slightly sick for even thinking it. He was a medic. Just as it had felt wrong in Kaon deciding which mechs should get treatment and which mechs were lost causes, it felt wrong to him now. No matter how much anger and hatred he harbored, he couldn't simply let a mech die—no matter what stupid insignia they wore. He sighed and added, "But that doesn't make me any less of a doctor."
A quiet moment passed as Ratchet continued to work, widening the gap in the yellow mech's armor to try and loosen the embedded piece. "Sideswipe, I'm going to need your help here," he said as he finally finished his preparations. "You're going to hold your friend's shoulders down and hold them down hard. He's too low on energy to wake up, but... that piece is stuck in there good and I'm going to have to pull pretty hard. Can you do that?"
The red mech swallowed, his mix-colored optics bright and wide. It seemed to take him a moment to decide if he was capable or not, but he finally put his hands on his partner's shoulders, holding tightly. Ratchet nodded and grabbed the piece of metal, careful of the jagged edges. He activated the magnets in his fingertips before pulling up, following the angle the piece had entered at. For a moment the jagged piece held before coming loose with a wet schlick. He quickly tossed the piece aside, ignoring how Sideswipe's optics brightened further, turning them nearly white.
Ratchet didn't waste any time sealing up the lines, picking out smaller pieces of shrapnel as he went. The mech's internals were a mess of congealed energon and coolant, but as long as they didn't sit for too long, it wouldn't have a chance to corrode his inner-workings. As it was, Ratchet didn't have anything more than a rag to clean him out with, and he cleaned off as much as he could as he sealed the lines. Finally, he finished with a quick weld patch to stop any other particulates from getting under his armor, though it would be easy to remove when they made it somewhere safe for repairs. Slowly, the color came back to the mech's armor, changing it from a dull, sun-washed yellow to a more vibrant gold. The energon shunt continued its work and Ratchet watched the mech's energy levels slowly continue to rise.
"He got lucky," Ratchet said through a sigh. "He still needs a full fluid flush and his internals cleaned out thoroughly—all of which I can't do on a battlefield."
Sideswipe nodded, hands gripping the yellow mech's shoulders tightly as he shook. His relief was almost palpable, but there was no denying that he was still shaken up. Knowing how young he was, he had every slagging right to be. "I'll get him somewhere. Somewhere safe," he said. "I... Primus, I don't know how to thank you."
Ratchet looked at the young mech and cleaned the congealed energon from his fingers. "Get out of here," he said. "Charr is no place for a couple of younglings." The yellow mechs readings had evened out, his energy slowly rising. Soon, he'd be able to reboot and come back online. He was just about to unplug his scan when he noticed something... odd. "You... you two are split sparks. You're twins. Primus."
Sideswipe tightened his grip on his brother, looking at Ratchet warily even as he gave a short nod. Suddenly, things made a lot more sense. He didn't know many Decepticons that would have stayed behind for their injured partner, or reacted with such... empathy to his injures. But it wasn't just empathy- Sideswipe was feeling his brother's pain as if it were his own. Two seperate mechs, one spark—it was a connection stronger than a bond forged later in life. These two had been two sides of the same coin since the day they were created. No wonder Sideswipe hadn't left—if his brother died, he would quickly follow.
It was an incredibly rare phenomenon. Even during his years at the University, he'd never seen a case in person. Most didn't make it through their first vorn and the rest, well...
"You're not going to turn us in, are you?" Sideswipe asked, voice wary and optics narrowed.
Ratchet scowled. "Why would I bother saving your collective chassis just to turn you in for a science experiment? I'm not some researcher in Dead End," he snapped. "No, I would prefer that the moment he wakes up, that you both get the frag out of here and find the youngling center in Polyhex. They'll take you in and finish fixing him up—you'll be safe."
Sideswipe didn't look convinced and he glanced at his brother uncertainly, as though wishing he were awake to give his opinion. Ratchet sighed. "Look, your brother still needs help. Kaon's a long ways away unless you can get a transport and they've already cleared out. Unless you want to turn yourself into the Autobots and let them help you in one of their camps, go to Polyhex. Get away from this war—this isn't your fight. A mech named Digit is an old friend of mine from when I went to school. Track him down. Last I heard, he was working at the North Polyhex Youngling Center. Tell him Ratchet sent you."
Sideswipe swore and ran a shaking hand over his head, optics brightening and fading as he thought. "These tunnels reach towards Polyhex—do you think any of them aren't fragged?" he asked.
Ratchet sighed and ran a hand over his helm. "Some are caved, but you two might be able to find a way," he said. He poked the red mech's chassis where the Decepticon insignia was painted with cheap purple. "Rub that off and you can go above ground."
Sideswipe scowled stubbornly. "No! We earned these! I'm not gonna give it up like that!" he snapped.
Ratchet returned the glare. "Kid, they left you. You really think they give a slag about what happens to you? I know how the Decepticons talk about brotherhood and rising up and all that slag, but if they really believed that, would they have left one of their own?"
Sideswipe opened his mouth to reply, but Ratchet caught him off. "They would let your brother die, and you with him and not bat an optic. Just… think about that next time you decide you want to fight for them."
Sideswipe didn't say anything, still intently focused on his brother. He stroked a hand lightly down his cheek, his other resting gently across his newly welded chassis.
Ratchet got to his feet and patted the mech's shoulder. "Stick to the tunnels until nightfall. I'll try and keep them away from this area."
Sideswipe looked up at him, mouth drawn into a thin line. "Thank you," he said. "Seriously... thank you."
Ratchet offered a small smile. "Be safe," he said before carefully looking at the hole he'd come through. He wouldn't be able to get back up it, so instead, he started walking, heading down the tunnel to try and find another exit, far away from the two young mechs. It felt almost wrong to leave them, and he had to remind himself that they would be able to handle it. They may be young, but they had already tasted war. They'd made it this far, after all and he had no doubt that the determined young mech would get his brother to safety.
Even so, he couldn't help but glance back and saw Sideswipe lean down and press a kiss against his brother's helm, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.