Return (A Ratchet TFP Fanfiction Story)

Chapter 17

The memory had faded into different memories, memories from long ago. Scenes of war plagued the medic, explosions hitting him left and right, blaze taking away the soldiers that were fired upon. Ratchet knew what this was, knew that the Decepticons were trying to torture him into talking, by taking his worst memories of war and playing them over and over again. The visions of mechs and femmes dying before him wouldn't stop playing in his helm, like his memories were stuck on replay. Ratchet tried his best to shut them out, turn off his processor, but it was as if he wasn't in control. He could feel his chassis writhing, feel himself gritting his denta.

Another mech gone.

Megatron flashed in his visions, red optics cold while sharp denta flashed at him in a sinister grin.

The femme, dead.

He could feel the warlord sinking deep into all his memories, plucking them out one by one, even the ones the medic thought he had hidden away.

Dark optics of several lifeless sparklings watched him.

Ratchet felt himself twitch as Megatron seemed to jumble them all together. What was he trying to do?

The youngling stopped begging him, falling limp without another sound.

Ratchet wasn't sure what the warlord did just then. All he knew was that it hurt. Despite the fact that he was still trapped in his own processor, he heard himself give a sharp scream of agony as fire swept up his chassis and helm. Whatever Megatron was doing, he wasn't supposed to be doing it. The medic's chassis and processor was trying to reject it. Ratchet almost woke from his oblivion, the pain searing into him like he was being swallowed whole by it, but then he was swept back in, a loud sound like a tornado filling his helm.

Then there was utter silence and stillness.

For a few moments, it was like Ratchet was floating in darkness, draped in a dark sky that wouldn't set him down. He didn't dare call out; as much as he hated to admit it, he was terrified of whatever was coming. That didn't mean he would talk.

"Had enough, good doctor?"

Ratchet flinched as the Decepticon leader's voice echoed through his helm, like it was surrounding him as much as the darkness was. He did his best to keep his voice from shaking, but it sounded to him as though it was. "I will never tell you anything," he growled.

Sharp, painful laughter erupted everywhere, shaking the medic to his very spark. "Oh, but you will, medic," Megatron spat. "You have no idea just how dreadful this place is about to become. I doubt you will last the day."

It felt as if Ratchet was swept away again, a giant wind seeming to send his mind through a hurricane of war scenes, until he was jolted into a stop abruptly, finding himself trapped in a gray area of fog.

Ratchet remembered this. 

The frame was dented horribly, the result of terrible beating and torture. Energon leaked from the mouth and wounds, the dead faceplate twisted in pain. In his last moments, all he had felt was pain. Nothing to comfort him. 

This was a memory, but it wasn't a real one. He had seen before.

He turned and another dying Autobot stared at him directly in the faceplate. He tried to move, but it felt as if he was glued to the ground. The black ground.

Ratchet knew he was in recharge, knew that these were plaguing him as he rested. This had happened before, hadn't it?

The Autobot died with a soundless groan, the optics still boring into him. Ratchet felt a pang in his spark; he had just failed to save another life. He turned to the sound of another groan, and saw another now dead Autobot behind him. More and more started appearing, all staring at him lifelessly. 

Yes, he remembered seeing this before. When he and Omega had been repairing a part outside the ship, in the cold. 

"Why couldn't you save them, Ratchet?" came a quiet voice.

No. He didn't want to see this again.

His gaze turned sharply and he saw Arcee standing in front of him, severely wounded and a dead look in her optics. They were pale, drained of life.

"Why couldn't you save them?" she repeated. The lifeless forms of Bulkhead and Bumblebee appeared behind her, eyes void of color. The darkness penetrated him. 

He felt a presence behind him again and turned around, instantly regretting it. A battered, dead Optimus was staring him right in the faceplate. His limp servo reached out for his friend's shoulder plate. 

"Why couldn't you save us, old friend?" he asked slowly, his deep voice barely more than a whisper. "Why couldn't you.."

The Prime fell forward, barely missing the old medic. Ratchet cried out as the rest of his comrades did the same. He rushed over to Optimus, regaining his ability to move. He turned his friend over and looked into his dying optics. 

"Why?" Optimus mouthed breathlessly. "I can't forgive you.."

The medic, still trapped in his processor, clutched his helm and screamed loudly within himself. He knew Megatron was doing this; twisting his thoughts and memories into dark things like this. No matter how much he told himself this, however, it was still horrible. It was almost real, it was almost really there. The medic wanted to scream until there was nothing left, not the darkness around him, not the warlord's voice in his helm. 

"Very good, medic," Megatron laughed. "By the end of the day, you will tell us everything we want to know, or you will only see this and more for the next."

~

Ratchet lasted longer than a day. He lasted over a week.

But in the end, he was hardly himself anymore.

Just a shell. 

The medic ran through the halls of the Nemesis, alarms ringing everywhere.

Dead optics.

He grit his denta as he turned a corner, trying to force that thought out of his head. 

Faceplate's twisted in pain. 

Smoke billowed over the Nemesis, and he knew it was nearing the ground. Soon, he would be able to jump. To escape.

The nightmares. 

He made it to the top of the ship, his derma turning up a little bit in relief when he saw that the ground was getting nearer. It looked white, but he didn't care. He would jump and drive away.

Anything to get out of this nightmare.

Then his spark began to sink as the ship started to rise again. They had regained control of the ship. His chassis started to rattle in panic; they would find him and take him back. He couldn't let them, not after destroying the ship controls and running. Not at after all this.

NO MORE.

He didn't care anymore. He knew this would be awful. He knew this could possibly offline him. Even if it didn't it would be agony. 

He didn't care.

NO MORE.

He jumped.

Visions of the nightmare flashed in his helm as he soared through the air, and he squeezed his optics shut, gritting his denta. He didn't want to see that anymore.

NO MORE.

Relief was the first thing he felt when he hit the ground hard.

Then the pain.

~

I feel like this was awful...

SO OUT OF CHARACTER-

UGH-

I am sorry if this chapter sucked, guys.

At least now you know what happened to him?

*waves weakly*