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ratchet awoke to a thrum of steady agony beneath his panels. in all honestly, waking was not something he’d expected to ever do again, but here he was - functions coming online one by one as he internally processed all his damages.
which was… a lot. many of his systems, too numerous to count, had been badly damaged by his more than shameful activities earlier… that day? week? vorn? he wasn’t sure how long it took him to online once he had gone dark.
by the time he managed to open his optics, he connected some further dots:
he was not in the autobot base. he was, if his conclusions were correct, actually in the deception medical bay.
hoo-rah. he was going to have an excellent foreseeable future, he could tell.
where fear would usually grip at his spark, he found himself angry and annoyed. at himself, mostly, for being so damned stupid.
frag being mostly annoyed with himself, he was fully enraged with his own behaviour. was he so desperate that he had to jeopardise the future of the autobots for his own ego?
apparently.
“look what the cat dragged in,” a pointed voice drawled after the opening of a set of doors, and ratchet dragged his optics to the intrusion - knockout, of course.
“or, well, the starscream. that’s a human colloquialism, anyways, thought you may appreciate it since you’re so busy canoodling with them.” he continued, doing some busywork at his workstation, which was most certainly more high-tech than that of his own workstation back at base.
“knockout,” he managed to grind out, vocal processors adamantly fighting him on his command to speak.
“yes, yes, me.” the decepticon physician drawled, continuing whatever work it was he was messing with.
ratchet didn’t even try to make a move against the deception, he knew better than to expect he wasn’t restrained. he was affixed to a medical berth in the far side of the room, helm turned to its side so he wasn’t staring at the dull ceiling.
“doctor to doctor, as much as i’d prefer to spend my time on this project with you and perhaps my assistant,” knockout continued, voice surprisingly sincere - considering he was talking about spending time with an autobot. “there are those higher up the food chain who want in, so.” he concluded, bringing over equipment for an energon transfusion.
or, well, replacement pieces - he realised, faintly, that he was already hooked up to a transfusion system, and the feeling of cool, proper energon coursed through his body in place of the vigorous, almost pressurised presence of the synthetic energon.
“we have all the synthen utilising your serum that we could possibly need - thank you for that, by the way - but, more tests must be done, and there’s no more willing a participant than a prisoner.” the doctor sighed, heading back over to his work station with a vial of synthetic energon.
ratchet strained at the metal binding him to the table in a wholly futile attempt at - at something, eyes tracking the deception physician as best he could.
after a few moments, knockout stilled entirely, lifting one of his clawed servos to his audial, probably connecting to a comm link.
“yes?” he asked sharply, stiffly. the physician turned over his shoulder to look at him, blinking with a calculating look to his optics.
“i’m sorry?” he remarked through the comm, somewhat confused. his optics flitted to ratchet for a second, before he turned around and walked away.
“beg your pardon? this is my-“
the physician went silent.
“understood, sir.” he managed eventually, taking his digit away from his audial and returning back to his side.
knockout had an odd look on his face. constipated almost. irritated and yet… worried?
“apparently i will not be your doctor at all today,” he informed, flexing his claws. for a decepticon, knockout wasn’t any good at concealing his emotions - most of the time, anyways. we was always fairly transparent about his plans - his plans just… never really had the greatest intentions.
“perhaps i will tend to you after the fact! who kno-“
before knockout could finish his ill-cheered taunt, he was cut off by another voice - one he hadn’t heard in a very long time.
“that will not be necessary, knockout.” the mech declared, pedesteps heavy and clanking on the metal floors of the nemesis.
the tiny sliver of hope he felt in his heart sank as his optics widened in disbelief.
“i intend for my experimentation to be precise and calculated.”
“of course you do,” knockout grumbled.
the mech gave knockout a blank stare - always with that damn blank stare.
“it is purely logical.”
optimus’ worry for him was distraction enough for him, at first. feeling his conjunx’s attempt to comfort him through their sparkbond, feeling the panic and raw worry for him and his wellbeing provided him some amount of comfort.
at first.
the deeper shockwave got into his work, the worse for ware ratchet was.
despite the unusual effort knockout went through to have proper energon pumping through his body at a decently acceptable rate, shockwave cared little for what was coursing through his body. he drained half of what knockout had given him then started pumping him full of synthetic energon serums and primus knows how many other drugs.
that’s why, he concluded, as the dull ceiling shifted slowly with patterns and he could see faces in the shadows and the luminance of the nemesis around him were simply effects of the drug cocktail he was on. he did a good job of ignoring it, mostly, but he was getting… paranoid.
his processor felt like mush, like half his circuits had rusted and somebot tried to wire them back together - incorrectly - anyways.
on top of that, sometimes shockwave’s synth-en serums burned as they entered his systems, and ratchet was certain his fuel tank was corrupted to high primes.
much of his processor strength was on trying to calm himself, as to not give optimus spark-ache with how visceral his emotions were. but ratchet was scared. he was afraid, he was alone, and he was in pain. shockwave was nowhere finished with him and ratchet was already in complete agony - he had no idea how much time had passed, only that with each second he survived through was miserable.
“what are your symptoms, ratchet?” he distantly heard shockwave ask.
“frag off,” he managed to spit, glaring at the decepticon with every ounce of hatred and ire he could muster. this was the routine they had fallen into, and ratchet made it his purpose to be as irritating to the decepticon as he could feasibly manage.
that meant refusing to answer questions where he could, straight up lying in other places, and hopefully giving shockwave a helmache with all his screaming. though, the screams weren't… really voluntarily on his part.
“i tire of this game, ratchet. we both know you will succumb to it. just cut the moments between where i am forced to hurt you more. it is no burden to me, of course, but i am well aware it is to you. answering my questions is the logical conclusion.” shockwave deadpanned, in that droning voice of his.
ratchet remembered him being much more… alive.
he supposed thats what the decepticon cause did to a bot.
“you’re a decepticon, nothing you do is logical.” he grumbled, grinding his dentae as not to scream from the burning rush that flooded his body. his vision whited out for a few moments, but he was in no danger of falling, still being strapped to a medical berth.
“that statement is simply false,” shockwave replied, and ratchet could have sworn he detected a hint of outrage in the decepticon's voice.
who was he kidding. it was probably the copious different variants of drugs and synth-en formulas flooding his systems.
“i will ask a second time and a second time only. what are your symptoms?”
begrudgingly, ratchet subsided after a few moments more of silent protest.
every cursed word to leave his mouth was still a complete lie, though.
“good. we will proceed with the next test.”
ratchet had no idea of the time passed. it could have been days. it could have been months. shockwave had left his station in the medical bay on several different occasions, speaking not a word of anything outside of his ‘research’.
with each passing moment, he could feel optimus’ presence in his spark, tugging at the life force within him with increasing desperation and anguish.
ratchet hardly got any power-down, his systems shut down by force every now and again if shockwave’s tests and experiments pushed his body too far - which would have been much more frequent had he not modified his internal auto shut-down systems himself.
as team prime’s only medic, he couldn't afford to shut down when he got too tired, or too hungry, or too injured. he had to be able to be awake, always.
still, there's only so many of his internal autonomous systems he could mess with without reaching into… dangerous territories. not even he was desperate enough to meddle with those.
point is, being forced into shut-down was different to falling asleep.
unconscious he couldn't reach out to optimus. asleep, he could.
it was one of the rare occasions where he actually found himself asleep of mainly his on volition, not shutting down from pain or energon depletion.
asleep, now, he found himself back in his room back on base, the space filled with familiar items and knick-knacks. an empty energon cube he’d forgotten to clear away, his scattered data pads and texts, mini monitors that connected to the machines he had set up in the medical bay and his own sleeping berth tucked away in an alcove of the rocky wall.
his brain brought him back to… a place of comfort for him. a place that had provided him stability and warmth during his time on earth.
he was glad to be dreaming. to be dreaming of this place and… not a nightmare of any kind.
he only wished optimus was asleep. asleep, his mind, too, could wander into his berthroom.
that was another wonderful thing about being spark-bonded. they had that ability to connect with eachother in ways others could not - through their unconscious minds.
he wished optimus was asleep. maybe that way he could at least talk to the other mech. of course, he was always elated to feel his presence in his chest, and the feelings soothed an ache and filled a part of him he hadn’t known was hollow before, but he loved all of optimus. not just the emotions he received through their sparkbond.
ratchet looked down at himself - assessing the dents and cuts, chipped paint and scraped metal plating adorning his body.
maybe it was better if optimus didn’t see him like this.
“ratchet?”
he froze.
“optimus?” he parroted, voice small and rough as he turned around. even though he was, technically, in a dream, his physical state wasn’t altered much at all. of course, he assumed if he was actually awake, there was no way he’d be able to stand or walk.
“what have they done to you, old friend?” optimus asked - and where ratchet was expecting the soft, gentle tone of optimus’ usual concerned voice, instead he heard a demand full of rage.
“what have they done?” he asked again, approaching him and using one servo to cup the side of his helm.
ratchet wished he could feel it - feel optimus beside him, holding him, protecting him. this was a dream, though. physical touch wasn’t real.
with the touch of a phantom hand against his helm, he reached up to grasp at optimus’ arm, servos clamping around a form he couldn’t feel.
“shockwave is back, optimus.” he confided, voice low and scared.
they’d both known what shockwave was capable before they assumed they had abandoned him on cybertron.
having him back in the decepticon ranks would prove only to be a problem for them, they -
“our inside informant failed to mention that. we are close to reaching an extraction plan, old friend, you need not worry longer.” he said, and ratchet was stumped momentarily - informant? which decepticon was their inside informant? what?
“you will be safe soon, i promise.” he vowed, bringing him in for a hug. optimus’ body caged him in, and what was usually a comforting action left an ache in his spark - a longing within the very core of his being. he may have been there, in unconsciousness, being held by the bot he cared most about in all the universe, but he couldn’t feel it.
he wanted to feel something other than scared. or cold. or alone.
“i’m so sorry, old friend. i’m so sorry.” he repeated again, and ratchet pushed the other mech away.
“no, optimus, it’s me who should be sorry. the things i said to you-“
“were completely rational,”
“were completely out of line and entirely untrue!” ratchet’s voice cracked, internally and physically flinching as he remembered the vile things he’d said to optimus under the effects of the synth-en. every time he forced himself to think about that moment (very frequently), his entire being filled with shame and dread.
how could he have said those things?
“ratchet,” optimus tried, but he wasn’t having any of it.
“there is nothing you can say about the way i acted that will change that fact, optimus. it was all completely unwarranted and - and -“
ratchet felt a sinking feeling in his gut and - oh.
he was waking up.
“ratchet? ratchet!”
he looked up at optimus, optics glistening, but before he could utter another word - an ‘i’m sorry’ or ‘i love you’ - his optics shot open and he was back on the medical berth of the nemesis, world lit by broody purple light.
he dragged a servo across his face in irritation. in desperation, in agony.
he - he dragged his servo across his face.
he opened his optics from where he’d squeezed them shut, and looked down, only to see nothing where the metal binds holding him down should have been.
… well, why look a gift mech in the mouth?
he managed to push himself into a sitting position, arms and servos straining from the effort and trembling in pain. he bit back his exclamations of pain and focused on getting up.
he was depleted of energon and had primus knows what in his system, he hadn’t been fully healed from his scuffle with megatron and shockwave wasn’t messing around when he said ‘he would get his answers, one way or another’.
he looked around the medical bay, trying not to get dizzy from sitting upright, when -
everything jolted, the entire room seemed to shake, and he almost fell off the medical berth and to the floor.
he didn’t, thankfully, but it was close. he forced himself into a standing position as alarms started blaring, using the berth he was formally strapped to to stabilise himself.
his knees were locked as he tried desperately not to let them buckle beneath him, gritting his dentae. if he fell, he feared he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to his pedes again.
“you need to follow me, mister!” a voice called out from somewhere within the medbay.
he looked around frantically, startled by the voice - where had it come from.
“over here, mister! we need to go! our timetable has just been moved!” the voice called again.
ratchet looked down and -
that… that was a sparkling.
it had a smaller frame, possibly still a protoform, and while it very well could have been a mini-con or simply a smaller sized bot, the way that it spoke and its facial features gave it away.
that was a growing mech.
sure, it wasn't a newborn, but that was a sparkling.
“we don’t have all day, mister prisoner, do you want out or not? i can’t guarantee the backup will be here!” the small mech spoke again.
deciding to ignore the obvious cyberphant in the room, he scanned the work benches in the lab for something, anything he could use to help.
“can you fetch me that needle over there? the one with the yellow fluid in it,” he asked, gesturing towards the item he’d spotted. “it’s a sedative, a pain-killer. i - i don’t think i can get far without it.”
the sparkling looked up at him with a shrouded concern, before dutifully nodding and collecting the item - the sparking was just tall enough to reach it, and gave it to him with no further complaint.
as quickly as he could, he administered the sedative to himself, feeling much of the aches and pains fade from his body. there was still a dull, throbbing underlying pain within his body but it was much more manageable now.
he looked down at the sparkling, who was expectantly looking up at him through ringed yellow optics.
this sparkling looks so familiar…
“where to now?” he asked.
the sparkling turned around and left, ratchet following after - still with a good deal of difficulty, but he was moving. that was what mattered.
he decided to ignore whatever possible consequences of mixing even more drugs into his system could do, in favour of getting off this damn ship.
“are - are you the autobot informant?” he asked as they walked, their pace brisk. ratchet didn't think he could handle anything more than that. the sparkling seemed to pick up on that.
“eh,” the small mech replied, not turning to look at him, instead focusing on their course of direction.
ratchet, quite frankly, had no clue where they were going. this kid could be taking him straight to megatron for all he knew. ratchet didn't usually make decisions of this calibre on a whim, but considering his circumstances, it was a risk he absolutely had to take.
what did ‘eh’ mean, anyways?
“whats - oh, thank primus, wildbreak, what took so long?” came a familiar, droning tone.
“mister prisoner needed a sedative, he couldn't move on his own,” the sparklet - wildbreak - informed.
the older ‘con, turning around in all his red-finished glory, gaped at him when he saw him.
“dear primus, how are you on your own two pedes?” knockout borderline screeched, looking over at a third mech ratchet had only just realised was there.
“breakdown, help him!” the decepticon physician snapped, at which the yellow-eyed decepticon hustled his was over to ratchet's side, offering a surprisingly gentle arm for ratchet to lean on.
were it under quite literally any other circumstances, ratchet would have never accepted the aid, but he was coming to quite a few conclusions in that moment that took up most of his cognitive functions and he was probably a half second away from complete collapse.
if his working hypothesis was correct, knockout or breakdown - quite possibly both - could be their ‘inside bot’ and this sparkling, wildbreak, was their sparkling. as in the sparkling of knockout and breakdown.
it - it made sense. the small mech’s features remarkably resembled the both of them, even the mech’s colours and paint job were similar.
he still hadn’t quite wrapped his helm around why the pair of decepticons were informants for the autobots, but he had very little time to question things because before he really knew what was happening. there was a great deal of frantic shouting, and a concerning amount of blaster firing sounding off in the distance, but a ground bridge opened up a few strides ahead of them on the nemesis and breakdown ran the two of them through it, closely followed by knockdown and wildbreak.
“close the bridge, close the bridge!” knockout hollered, at which the bridge was closed. was raf or optimus working the bridge? or perhaps one of the others?
scrap, maybe he shouldn't have taken that extra sedative. he could feel his thoughts slowing down.
“wha- who is that?”
“ratchet!”
“we need to get him to your medical bay, now!”
“wildbreak, stay by me,”
“they’re your informants, optimus?”
“ratchet-”
the sedative caught up to him. or maybe it was the wild concoction of other drugs in his system, thanks to whatever shockwave tried with the synth-en formula.
his consciousness left him, fled his desperate grasp once more.
he had locked optics with optimus before he felt them offline.
ratchet felt like complete scrap. it was great.
no more were his open wounds burning, his veins didn't feel like they were flooded with acid, and his pain had been brought down to a much, much more manageable amount.
sure, he ached, but compared to how he’d felt on the nemesis, it was like primus himself had blessed him.
his optics onlined, and he began assessing the things around him.
“ratchet,” a voice called quietly from his side, soft and concerned.
he felt a flutter within his chest - a feeling he knew to credit to optimus.
“optimus?” he replied, rolling his helm to the side to look at the other mech.
he was in his berthroom, not the medbay. huh.
“is there anything i can get for you, old friend? a sedative? a drink? a-”
“no, no,” he cut the other off, knowing he could list a whole host of things ratchet currently had no desire for.
he began pushing himself up, so he could sit on his berth, when optimus reached to help him.
“here, allow me-”
ratchet flinched when his servo got to close to him. he couldn't explain the rush of fear he felt run through his body, but optimus noticed his flinch and must have felt that panic, too, because he backed away in a sharp motion.
“ratchet?” he asked, voice husky.
he sighed, letting his body drop back to the comfort of his berth.
“i’m sorry, optimus. i -” he searched for the words. why was he scared? he’d spent the better part of his.. his imprisonment craving optimus’ touch, his protection, his presence.
he had it now but… why was he so afraid?
“i… i am sorry,” he managed, words getting stuck in his throat. he was unsure what to say, because he was unsure what his emotions were trying to tell him.
“... may i touch you, ratchet?” optimus asked slowly, extending a servo in a gentle invitation.
ratchet looked at it, uneasy, but swallowed the nerves he was loathe to find the origin of and nodded. optimus gently reached for him, touch light when his servos landed on his plating.
ratchet found the tension he hadn't known he was holding melt from his body, leaning into the touch - the kind, familiar touch of his sparkbonded.
optimus must have felt the surge of relief, because he gently scooped him up into a sitting position, joined him on his berth, and held him close to his chassis with loving arms.
“i am sorry, old friend.” the prime repeated again.
ratchet made an attempt to scoff, but it came out as more of a sigh.
“don’t be,” he said, wrapping his arms around optimus in return, laying his helm where he could still distinctly hear the other’s sparkbeat.
“it took us far too long to return you home,” optimus tried for, a way in which ratchet knew he was clawing at a growing mound of guilt and shame.
ratchet held on just a little bit tighter, trying to dissipate it.
“but you did. you got me home.” he replied, an attempt to soothe.
one of optimus’ servos began tracing patters along his outer plating, following the paint-lines and shapes, caressing the dents and scrapes, moving gently, oh so gently, along the exposed cabling and wires along his frame.
“speaking of, you got me home. how exactly did that come about?” ratchet asked, his growing questions and queries on the matter making themselves known again.
he was asking about knockout, breakdown, and the sparkling wildbreak, and how on earth they were the ‘informants’ optimus had mentioned previously.
“believe it or not, they reached out to us.” the prime informed him, piquing his curiosity even further.
“how come?” he pried, using his own servos to trace the edge of one of optimus’ armour platings on his pauldrons.
“they feared for the wellbeing of their sparkling, didn’t want him to be raised in an environment of abuse and violence. not like they were.” he relayed, and ratchet mulled over the thought in his helm.
“hm,” he said, “i suppose that’s one way to do it. guaranteed, they won't have escaped all the violence. we’re still at war.” he grumbled, smiling to himself when he felt optimus breathe a short, gentle laugh.
“i suppose so. it will still take some time for them to earn our trust entirely, but wildbreak,” optimus began, but ratchet cut him off with an affirmative sound.
he understood. a sparkling was a sparkling - they should be offered sanctuary, no matter their allegiances.
it… it had been forever since he’d seen a sparkling. since the start of the war.
a knock at his berthroom door brought him and optimus out of their thoughts, and in optimus’ case, off his berth. ratchet made his way to sitting on his own, legs off the side of his berth, but optimus had insisted quietly that he stay seated.
he was, of course, still injured.
opening the door, ratchet could see a whole host of colours from behind optimus’ frame, and a wave of senseless chatter he couldn't make out.
“ratchet, you have visitors.” optimus announced with a smile.
he ‘tch’ed.
“what, is the whole base here?” he snidely remarked.
optimus turned to him with one of those rare, gentle smiles.
“it appears so.” he replied, and ratchet sat for a moment in shock before optimus stood off to the sides and the proverbial floodgates opened.
bumblebee came bounding over, beeping and whirring in an excited yet concerned tone, bulkhead not too far behind.
arcee wasn't rushing like bumblebee, but she wasn't slow about it either. behind her, to his surprise, was knockout and breakdown, with the kids all running in on their human feet, strides much smaller than those of his fellow bots.
“glad to see you up, doc!”
“ratchet, glad to have you back.”
“ratchet! ratchet, you’re okay!”
“ratchet! hey!”
“ratchet! ratchet! you’re alive! and you came back with souvenirs!”
all the chatter at once was a bit much for him, and he winced, the overlapping inputs in his audials making his helm hurt.
“our medic has only just awoken, my friends,” optimus remarked, calm yet commanding tone quieting the gathered guests. “i request we take his re-immersion into the base gently. he is still recovering.”
there was a wave of somewhat reluctant - yet understanding - replies, and ratchet watched as a handful of people shuffled out of his room - bumblebee, who had beelined to his berth, was still practically glued to his side. he’d waited a moment for ratchet’s approval before clutching onto an arm with both his servos.
he probably wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.
arcee shared a few words of well wishes before herding the kids from the room, all with expressions and wines of disappointment.
care for them as he may, he had higher priorities.
‘i’m really glad you’re okay,’ the young scout spoke, voice a mix of bleeps and beeps.
“i’m glad i got back to you,” he replied, voice honing the same, gentle tone that bumblebee had managed.
‘we were all really worried,’ bumblebee added, leaning his helm against his pauldrons. ‘when i get my servos on him,’ the yellow mech droned off, an anger overtaking his words.
ratchet frowned.
“on who?” he asked.
there were lots of mechs to be angry at. soundwave, megatron, starscream - any of the decepticon higher ups had pulled their weight in making their lives miserable.
‘shockwave,’ the scout spat, such anger and rage ratchet hadn’t known the younger mech to be capable of.
he managed a quick glance over at optimus, trying to gauge his reaction to the fury of their scout, only to find the prime’s usually light and calm optics also clouded with anger.
his servos clenched with it, and ratchet could feel the anger panting through his chassis via their sparkbond.
ratchet turned back to bumblebee.
“i fear he may have been… spoken for, already.”
seeing the fire in optimus’ eyes, the feral rage and hell-bent anger he scarcely ever saw on the prime, ratchet felt the smallest twinge of fear in his spark.
a twinge of fear for shockwave. because when optimus got his servos on him, it would not be pretty.