A/N:
-Angst. This is angst. (Specifically Optiratch angst ^^'') If some of y'all don't like that stuff and/or are bothered by it, click off or scroll by, please. Thanks.
-Hhhhh speaking of that, I'll have you know I'm terrible at this kind of writing. I gave it my all, however. I hope I did passably, at least...^^''
-Um......I am very sorry if I made any errors, be it a typo or misinformation about something/someone, etc. I wrote a lot of this very late at night or at ungodly hours of the morning.....so that might explain a little of it ^~^'' I'll read through it as many times as possible after posting so I can catch and fix as many of those mistakes as possible....
-I'll make this quick; sorry again to anyone who saw this the first time ^^'' But this time, I've posted it intentionally so I hope you enjoy!! :'D
-This is only one, long part so dw about cliffhangers or waiting 10 centuries a long time for me to finish it :3
-Set in the TFP universe!
-Disclaimer!!! TFP and Transformers and all the characters and places (basically everything) does not belong to me in any way!! This is just a fanfic!!! So uh,,credit to its rightful owners!! ^^''
///
The sky was a dull, bleak grey.
Icy rain pelted the earth, pouring from the stormy skies with a vengeance as harsh winds tossed them around with an ominous whistling.
Yet the real storm had materialized inside the rocks—in the simple silo base where the Autobots resided.
Today, the children had not been able to come to the base.
Miko was in detention, Jack was busy working overtime at his job, and Raf was studying for a exam.
It was just one of those days.
"Thank Primus for peace and quiet!" Ratchet would have remarked as he usually did on days such as this.
However, things were all but calm—even as a prickly silence filled the air.
///
"I...I cannot let you do that..." Optimus stammered at last. He bowed his head and shifted his gaze to the left, clearly uncomfortable. "It is only a mere relic, not worth the life—"
A fist pounded the wall, leaving a blackened scuff mark in the metal.
"DON'T YOU CARE?!" Ratchet practically screamed. Optimus's eyes rounded with guilt as he turned his gaze back to the medic sharply.
"Of course I—"
"Then GET IT THROUGH YOUR HEAD, OPTIMUS—" he hit the wall next to him once again, with more force. "It's not about you!!!"
He spat those words so coldly, so jarringly sharp, Optimus felt his spark twist.
Old friend...I do not think you understand my intent at all...please be patient with me...
The Prime opened his mouth to speak, but Ratchet flashed him an even harsher glare, silencing any further words. Optimus again cast his eyes momentarily to the floor.
Pushing past his leader, Ratchet raised his fist, not turning to face Optimus, and flipped up his middle finger.
Optimus would have given an amused laugh.
'Did one of the children teach you that custom?' he wanted to ask jokingly, teasingly.
Agent Fowler had done it enough times for Optimus to understand what it meant.
But all he could do was stare after his medic as the older mech stalked over to the groundbridge controls. All kinds of alarms were going off in Optimus's head, and yet all he could do was...watch.
Perhaps he could take no more of Ratchet's harsh attitude—the anger that emanated off his old friend.
Perhaps he really wasn't making the right decision, but Ratchet was.
Or perhaps...
You're a coward, Optimus. A big, strong, coward.
"I'll find the relic myself," Ratchet announced to the other bots. Up until then, they had, unmoving and tense, watched the argument which had preceded all this.
Don't go, my Starlight...or at least...let me go with you...But the Prime stood immobile, watching the old bot speak.
"I'll find it myself and win us the war," he repeated, still trembling with rage from minutes before. He turned that sharply angered expression—now laced with disdain—at the Autobot leader. "And I don't need any backup."
A swirling portal of green, white, and purple roared to life when the medic shoved the lever downwards, his expression only grim now. Without saying anymore, he then turned and transformed. An ambulance raced through the portal and disappeared seconds later.
While the Prime lingered absentmindedly near the bridge, eyes focusing on no one thing as he stared around, deep in thought, Bumblebee carefully padded over and pulled the lever up. The swishing, humming noise quickly faded as the groundbridge portal did, and silence rested over them once again.
Except that silence was still not peaceful.
Optimus soon found himself speaking, not really thinking as he did.
"Woah—you sure, Optimus?" Bulkhead asked, eyes widened a bit nervously. "I mean, no offense but...Ratchet might rip you to shreds..."
'He looked pretty mad,' Bumblebee agreed quietly.
"If something were to happen to him, it would be my fault," Optimus found himself saying. "For that reason, please reopen the groundbridge."
You scared of the blame, Optimus?
You don't want to be incriminated?
Are you making this about you?
Do you really care?
Optimus didn't want to shake those questions away just yet. He was unsure of their answers. The Prime wished his mind was where his body was, yet as he transformed and drove through the bridge, his thoughts continued to wander.
They taunted him, echoing his medic's scornful words.
Why don't you go after the relic, the one thing that could save us? Who cares if Megatron is there with all his troops? What makes that different from any other of your confrontation with him?
A heavy feeling sat in the bottom of his stomach—a foreboding sense.
Often—they say—if your loved one is in danger, you can feel it.
Optimus pushed harder on the gas, thinking only of what was going to take place if he did not reach his friend quickly enough.
The day was dark, cold, and rainy.
///
Ratchet pressed his back against the side of a tall rock, not daring to peer again at the action taking place in the center of the clearing. He heard the footsteps of some vehicons heading his way. They drew their guns as they got closer.
Above him, the dead-looking gray skies has stilled, leaving the air feeling taut—like it was holding its breath and ready snap any second.
The storm from Jasper must be close by, considering I bridge to—
Ratchet gritted his teeth and snapped himself back to focusing on the current situation.
The medic felt his spark racing. His arms began to tremor uncontrollably as he drew them upwards to get into a fighting stance.
They saw you. They saw you and it hasn't been more than 8 minutes you've been here. What a successful mission. It's just you against Megatron and hundreds of vehicons. And—
He glanced down at his leg a little worriedly.
He'd jumped into action a week before and received a blow to the leg he was still healing from. At this very moment, in fact, he felt a faint aching start up again in his knee.
Ratchet let his head fall against the rock, eyes squeezed shut, swallowing hard and drawing out his own blades.
You idiot.
He counted the seconds before attack.
Optimus was right.
"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! BRING HIM TO ME NOW!!" Megatron's furiously growled order broke the tense silence.
Instantly the slow footsteps became sets of scrambling feet, quickly heading for the rock. A second later, Ratchet watched (and heard) a shot of crimson red blaster fire whiz past his helm. Instinctively, he let out a cry of shock and stumbled to the side—right out from behind the rock.
Before he could regain his footing to even turn around, the silence exploded into the deafening sound of hundreds of shots aimed for him. The medic turned and faced it, wincing and sucking in a sharp breath as one or two grazed his plating.
He charged, strangely feeling almost a little....detached from his own body. Like he was on autopilot.
"For Cybertron!!!" He heard a voice shout.
What....am I doing here?
"FOR VICTORY!!!"
Oh...it was his voice. Right.
The orange-white-plated mech swerved past the blaster fire, swinging his arms—now blades—back, forth, up, down....
Optimus, forgive me. I was a fool. I was a prideful fool.
He ducked a shot and kicked out, catching the vehicon by surprise and knocking him off his feet. Almost one motion, the old bot maintained his momentum and swung his blades at an oncoming opponent.
The con dodged smoothly. He raised his gun and fired.
Just as Ratchet thought to spring in the other direction, his knee gave out beneath him. Ratchet tripped over himself, grabbing his knee.
Right in the path of the vehicon's shot.
A shot ripped through his shoulder, followed by another closer to his neck, tearing from the medic such an ugly, guttural cry that even the vehicon flinched. The medic crumpled to the floor in a writhing heap of short, agonized exclamations.
Meanwhile, the vehicon's gun wavered a bit, drawing back a second. Ratchet's pained noises faded from the air of the clearing, replaced only by the sound of his tremoring breath. Clearly struggling, the medic reached over and clasped his shoulder so hard his digits shook. A small flow of energon began to leak through, soiling his servos and the dirt surrounding his figure. Turning his face to the con, he let his eyes show off his anger.
In a smaller, quavering voice, he managed to say, "C-coward...hold y-your...w-w-weapon....straight why don't you—" He spat out, wheezing a bit, then falling limp into the ground. Not unconscious, but simply out of strength.
Or...will to live.
The Vehicon shook its head and held the gun firmly upwards again. The weapon was trained directly on Ratchet's helm.
Just at that moment, the skies snapped.
A bellowing rumble of thunder sounded, the clouds suddenly looking bigger, darker, greyer....
It's pointless...we'll just lose, won't we? Like we always do. Megatron will have his way today, and he'll have his way until he kills all of us and ends this fragging war....
Ratchet looked up, hearing a low, gravelly cackle.
Speak of the devil and he doth appear—is that not the phrase?
The medic let out a little moan, rolling over onto his side, still clasping a hand to his bleeding wound. His gaze, sharp with pain and yet dull with exhaustion, stared ahead to see the vehicon back away twitchily.
Megatron's footsteps shook the ground a little as he stalked in Ratchet's direction. The huge figure of the ex-gladiator soon towered over Ratchet. He smirked a little, slowly folding his hands behind his back and tilting his head.
"Ratchet...." he paused to chuckle. "Tell me, what ever did you think you were going to accomplish?"
"T....the relic—" he hissed tightly, breaking off abruptly to suppress a noise of pain as his shoulder burned with pain under his grip. His optics, trained on Megatron's sneering face, spoke more than a thousand words of hate and fire.
Megatron laughed out loud.
"Oh, you must mean—" he turned and make a rough motion at the vehicons behind him. The one holding the escape pod immediately scurried across the clearing to them. "This trinket?" He asked, grabbing the object from his soldier.
The pod hadn't been opened yet.
The pod hasn't been opened yet. The weapon is still inside.
Ratchet let his mind fixate on that one thought.
There is time still....if I can just.....
Megatron started one of his small monologues, something Ratchet wasn't listening to. He switched on his comm link as discreetly as he could. Pride was not of importance now, Ratchet told himself.
Optimus had been right, and he knew it. It would be entirely foolish not to try to—
"Ratchet?"
Megatron instantly stopped dead in his tracks. His head whipped around as he processed the voice. His eyes darkened when he registered.
"I see." Was all he growled in a chillingly quiet voice.
"Ratchet, what is going—"
The medic fumbled to switch it off again, internally kicking himself for so stupid a plan. Of course his idiot sparkmate would call out to him the instant his switched on his comm lines again!
He meant well, Ratchet. He loves you. He cares about you. Keep that in mind.
Ratchet let out a grunt of both pain and frustration.
Optimus, hurry! There isn't anymore time!
Ratchet watched as Megatron dropped to his level and grabbed his chin. Mustering all his confidence, the medic stared with an unwavering gaze right back.
"You're a fool, Autobot. Much more foolish than I remember you being," he snarled.
Ratchet narrowed his eyes and fired back, "Not as much of a fool as you—and unlike you, I'm not a pile of—"
"SILENCE!!!!!!!"
Megatron's roared command silenced the medic instantly. Ratchet was not afraid, just startled. Around him, all the vehicons nearby had flinched and taken steps back—even though they were as far away as they were. The Decepticon leader gave another growl, indignant and angered at his prisoner's insolence.
He released Ratchet, cursing under his breath.
Now the Prime is coming. I can't just leave.
The huge figure of Megatron paced around, his grey metal looking oddly shinier in the greyish lighting the skies were providing. He was formulating a course of action.
A plan.
His eyes lit up and he straightened again, looking once more as if he was in control.
Just at that moment, a terrible rumble that Ratchet felt all through his body sounded in the air.
The storm had arrived, and the great roll of thunder was its announcer.
Megatron looked around casually, then back at Ratchet. There was a dry amusement dancing in his optics.
"Today shall be the day another one of you dies," he spoke with a terrifying finality.
The medic's spark skipped a beat. He felt a cold fear run through his veins, and sit at the bottom of his stomach—like a rock. Yet it was not fear for his own life.
"How can you be so certain?" Ratchet fought to keep his tone level—steady.
Blinding white flashed through the air, accompanied by a tearing, cracking sound that rang in everyone's audio receptors. However Megatron stood, and had not flinched. His eyes held a dangerous light of unbending desire.
"One of you will die by my hand," Megatron repeated himself, turning away. "For it is as I will."
Then, the ex-gladiator stalked back across the clearing. Vehicons immediately scurried to form a circle around Ratchet, two of them coming even closer to guard him, guns drawn and ready to fire.
Softly, gently, unrelentingly, drops of moisture began to fall from the sky.
Rain.
Ratchet closed his eyes, letting himself focus on the odd sensation of those thousands of drops of liquid created when they repeatedly hit his plating.
With a heavy, exhausted sigh, Ratchet let his head fall into his hands.
Optimus....my sweetspark.....forgive me...
He jolted as a vehicon reached over and slapped his helm harshly.
"Up." He snapped, holding up stasis cuffs.
Ratchet sincerely hoped, with all his spark, that he would be the one.
///
"Ratchet? Please respond, Ratchet." Optimus repeated himself once again, speeding down the empty road in alt-mode. He finally rolled to a halt, transforming and taking a look around.
Dark clouds poured rain, the rising winds causing the little droplets to mercilessly pelt his plating from all sides.
"Old Friend," he tried his comm for what felt like the hundredth time. "Sweetspark, respond."
Urgency laced his tone, concern burning clearly in his gaze.
Please, my love. Something happened, I am sure of it. But....what?
Static sounded in his audio receptors until, with a sigh, the Autobot leader switched his link off again.
I must find him on my own, then—
He perked up suddenly, hearing a faint noise of....blaster fire?
A cold, sick feeling twisted in his stomach. Dread weighed heavily on his chest.
Hang on, my Starlight....!
Without a second to spare, driving as if a fire chased his tailpipes, Optimus pushed his engines to the max. He sped closer, feeling that dread and despair sink further into him as he could more clearly make out the sounds of a fight.
All he wanted was for Ratchet to be okay.
All he wanted was for Ratchet to come home.
Maybe he was selfish for not wanting to attempt to steal that relic, but Optimus knew that he couldn't go on if anything happened to his teammates over some weapon. The war was not worth anyone's life.
If he could save yet just one more, he'd take that option first.
You will come home alive. No matter the cost. I will not fail you, old friend.
He pushed the brakes and skidded to a halt, catching sight of the commotion. There was a space between two towering canyons below his road. In that rocky clearing, Optimus saw an orange-white-plated mech darting from left to right, fending off as many of the oncoming vehicons as he could. Sure enough, Megatron was also there. At present, he simply stood by, watching.
Enough was enough. Ratchet needed help.
Optimus transformed and gripped the side of the mountain he'd been driving up, vaulting off the top and landing with a huge 'THUMP!!' on the road below.
He cared not for the huge crater that now lay in the road.
Optimus ran as fast as he could, drawing out both his guns and firing as soon as he was in range of the fight.
"STEP AWAY FROM RATCHET!!!" Optimus commanded, nailing two vehicon soldiers with two shots as he continued to cross the distance of the clearing. Some of them scrambled back, many others turned their fire on the Prime, charging at him with a strange confidence.
Optimus felt his blood boiling. The rain seemed to intensify as another bolt of lightning ripped through the sky with great ferocity. Almost like it had hit Optimus himself, he put away his guns and drew his swords, feeling electrified—powerful.
I am not afraid of you, Megatron. Nor of your legions of breakable troops which you care nothing for.
He saw the warlord, standing far across the clearing, arms folded.
"FACE ME, MEGATRON!!!!"
And with a powerful war cry, Optimus bolted forward, swords drawn. Vehicons poured in from all sides, shooting at him and trying to throw themselves in the Prime's way.
He didn't notice pain from shots that ripped through his armor, the blows that landed on his chest—before he grabbed his attackers and dismantled them one by one.
The Prime had but one target.
Optimus wanted Megatron, and he wanted the end of this selfish, futile war.
///
Megatron inspected the pod, wondering if he should open it now or wait until—
"Step away from Ratchet!!!" He heard the enraged command from across the clearing. Before his eyes met the scene, Megatron already knew who it was. He grinned, baring his teeth with excitement.
Ah, yes, Optimus. That's right. Come closer. Let me finish you once and for all...
With an unchecked level of anger, he yelled for Megatron to face him, tossing away the corpse of yet another dead vehicon as he spoke. The Decepticon warlord stood, unmoving, gazing with a taunting amusement in his eyes as he watched Optimus fight his way through the vehicons, tearing them apart as they would approach him.
At last, no one dared to approach the Prime. The rest of the vehicons there had either fled or threw themselves behind rocks to hide. Optimus stood for a second, panting, energon spattered all over his body and swords. He looked around to find Ratchet passed out in a heap, far to Megatron's right. No vehicons stood guard.
Of course, with Megatron there, guards were not a necessity.
You're a fool, too, Optimus. You all are.
Thunder rumbled, louder than before.
"So, you've come to rescue your lapdog, have you?" Megatron asked, sneering through every word he said. Optimus seemed to vibrate with anger. He didn't respond, eyes a sparking electric blue behind his battlemask.
"You can take him, Optimus," as the Prime twitched to move, Megatron held up his arm—the one with the fusion canon—and added, "For a price."
Optimus looked ready to rip his head off.
He had clearly seen Ratchet's wounds, and the new ones from a....punishment. Minutes after the medic had tried to escape, Optimus had arrived.
It was almost like they were going to succeed!
However, the large grey-purple mech had also made absolutely sure Ratchet would not escape, no matter what.
Megatron thought he'd feed his 'old friend's' anger.
Or perhaps...his guilt.
"While you were busy tearing vehicons to shreds, Ratchet was able to be successfully contained. We had to rough him up a little, as a result of his foolish actions.....but he'll live...for now."
He gave a little chuckle as Optimus made a quiet exclamation.
"You might have succeeded had you kept yourself focused on getting your friend out of here, Optimus!"
"You will let him go." He growled, taking a fighting stance.
"Make me."
"Very well then," The Prime drew his sword and started towards Megatron. "I shall."
Megatron dropped his canon. "Or...listen to my offer."
Optimus stopped, dropping his arms a bit.
"Speak." He let his gaze burn with a terrifying electricity. "Quickly."
Megatron was of course, not even slightly fazed. "My terms are simple," he paused to make a gesture to the clearing in which they stood. "Fight me now, unarmed. If you win, I'll let you and the medic here return to your base. No one will harm you as you leave."
It was a simple proposition.
It was a simple goal.
Ratchet would be safe.
You could fail...Optimus, you could fail and get Ratchet killed...
The rain poured from the skies ever harder, a storm unrelenting and harsh.
Megatron took a few steps until he stood right in front of Optimus.
The third stroke of lightning lit up the skies, flashing in the reflection of Optimus's blue optics. Megatron grinned, tilting his head. He reached out his hand.
"So?"
Without a single hesitation, Optimus took it.
///
A cold, familiar ache in his shoulder.
Burning sensations of pain from fresh cuts and dents in his body.
Merciless rain battering his plating.
Ominous, loud whistles of wind sounding in his audio receptors.
Ratchet's optics snapped open when he heard the resounding clang of metal on metal.
"IT IS FUTILE, PRIME—GIVE IT UP!!!"
"NEVER!!"
"MAYBE I SHOULD KILL BOTH OF YOU!!"
There was another sound of impact, punctuated with a short cry of pain. The voice was Optimus's.
The medic sat up, looking around briefly to see that any remaining vehicons who hadn't yet traveled back to the warship—hovering a short distance away—were cramming themselves behind rocks, flattening themselves to a corner. Others were presently trying to escape the scene.
Clearly, they wanted no part in any of this dispute.
But I do.
Ratchet hoisted himself up despite the way his wounds stung.
I must.
He watched Optimus and Megatron for a few moments. Neither one seemed to be using their weapons—it was simple combat.
Except there was energon splattered around the grounds where they fought.
Who said swords and guns were the only things that could kill?
"Well, then," Megatron laughed a chilling, malicious laugh. "Do you surrender yet, Optimus?" He bent down and thrust his face into Optimus's, while the Prime struggled to get up. Optimus retracted his battlemask, gritting his teeth with anger and in an attempt to stifle pained grunts of effort.
Energon stained the side of his face, dripping steadily from his mouth. He flinched back from the warlord and pushed himself to his feet, taking a fighting stance again.
Ratchet stood, mesmerized.
The sight that lay before him was nearly poetic, in a strange way.
Not the "good" kind of strange.
Rain poured from the heavens, the air was cold, and the winds raced noisily about. Smokey breath billowed from Optimus's mouth as he panted, looking ragged and angry. His gaze fixated on Megatron.
"This ends today, you lunatic—" he forced out, gripping one of his newer wounds gently. "Even...even if it kills me...."
Megatron grinned. "Oh, it will," he said slowly, deviously, not moving an inch as Optimus began to circle him. They eyed one another, anticipation hanging in the air as one silently dared the other to make the first move.
I will be the victor today, Optimus, and then I shall win this war!
Time seemed to slow, and suddenly Optimus couldn't move—yet nothing held his limbs in place.
Instead, his eyes were trained on Megatron as the warlord had suddenly turned.
He chuckled lightly and aimed his fusion canon at Ratchet, who was standing frozen, watching them.
The medic seemed to snap out of his trance and flinched, taking a step back defensively. Optimus felt a new rage form in him. Something unseen tore another war cry from the Prime and he charged at an almost desperate-looking pace.
"LEAVE HIM ALONE!!"
He threw himself at Megatron, knocking the huge mech to the ground. Megatron gave a short cry of surprise, then immediately locked his jaw, biting down on his tongue. Optimus's eyes burned with such a ferocity that the ex-gladiator had not seen—not for a long time.
Not since he last fought a wild beast in the arena of Kaon.
Never from the soft eyes of Optimus.
"YOU....KILLED THEM," Optimus snarled, pinning Megatron to the dirt. Rain pelted down, bouncing limply off Optimus's frame. He glowered over Megatron, seething at him. "YOU DID ALL THIS, YOU MONSTER!!!"
Megatron looked surprised only for a moment, then narrowed his eyes belligerently.
He could only grin. A sick, twisted grin that said, 'I don't care.'
Limbs burning with exhaustion, Optimus began to pummel Megatron. He swung side to side, pounding his opponent with all he had. Wordless cries of anger poured from him as he punched...harder, harder....
"Optimus!"
His servos began to tear and feel numb. Streaks of faded blue and purple stained his plating.
"OPTIMUS!!!"
Distantly, a voice registered in his ears. What was it trying to say?
"OPTIMUS, WAIT!!"
All the Prime could see was a blaring, bright red. Steady clanging of metal on metal against the static rain sounded loudly in his optics.
"ORION, PLEASE!!! LISTEN TO ME—"
Optimus felt as if an electric shock had been passed through him. Hearing his name, he froze, panting, trembling, blood roaring in his head. Beneath him, he could feel Megatron tremoring. Yet the silver-purple mech still bore that scrap-eating grin.
He knew something.
Something he won't tell me, the Autobot leader thought, feeling some of his frustration return. He glanced up again at Ratchet, who was still backing away. The air around them began to vibrate, waves of hot air joining with and drowning out the blustering, icy, rainy wind.
Something was definitely wrong.
Optimus narrowed his optics and raised a readied fist above Megatron's face.
"What are you not telling me, Megatron?" Optimus gripped his rival by the neck. Nothing but a feeble-sounding laugh met his words. The red optics staring back at him squinted with fatigue and fell shut.
Optimus knew Megatron was still awake.
"I'm more than finished with all your little mind games, this war, your treacheries," he spat. "What else are you trying to take from us all now?!" His voice rose with every word as Optimus began to work himself up again. Centuries of anger and sadness began to pile on his spark.
Waves of warm, stifling air drew closer. A reverberating hum sounded in Optimus' skull. Something like....a ship.
All the same, sound faded out around him as he zeroed in on Megatron.
Finally, he was at his fingertips—his mercy. Finally, Optimus thought, he could bring a final peace to—
"You lose," Megatron sneered, a new fire lighting his optics. Beneath him, the Decepticon leader tensed and felt as if he was about to make a move. Optimus gritted his teeth and held steady, tightening his grip on Megatron's throat.
"OPTIMUS, YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE!!"
Ratchet sounded on the verge of tears, practically shrieking at his partner.
He realized in an instant what exactly Megatron had meant before.
///
Every wound made itself known, throbbing with pain. Megatron could barely move.
Yet victory buzzed through every cell in his body, giving him just enough strength to carry out the last step to complete his grand plan to end it all.
Farewell, Orion. Ironic that it was your uncontrolled emotions that led to your downfall.
Optimus, fist raised, opened his mouth to ask again. Megatron suddenly let loose a surge of strength, pushing up and thrusting his legs under his opponent's torso and kicking outwards. Optimus's blue optics widened with shock and he uttered a short cry as he was thrown a few feet across the clearing.
He landed and instantly got to his feet again, activating his battlemask.
The Prime stared for a moment at the odd scene before him.
Megatron stood—albeit shakily—and began to back away, pulling Ratchet with him. No vehicon stragglers were in sight, and even more odd...the rain had begun to let up just a little.
Soft rays of sunlight began to show through the clouds. His mind drifting, Optimus turned slowly to gaze up at the clouds. He was met with the huge mass of metal and a blast of air and sound.
It was the Nemesis. A huge canon under the ship readjusted itself with an audible whirring noise.
"NOW, SOUNDWAVE!!"
"OPTIMUS, RUN!!!!!!"
Ratchet....I'm sorry I failed you....
In the time of a split second, the world around Optimus lit up in a brilliant, blaring flash, and a deafening explosion filled the air.
Never before had murder seemed so ethereal.
///
"Ratchet?"
No response.
"Ratchet..?"
Nothing.
"RATCHET!!" Miko tried, her loud voice jolting the medic out of whatever trance he'd been in moments before. He turned slowly from staring at his screen, a dead-looking gaze meeting the children's.
"Do you...need something, Miko? Rafael?"
"Oh—well, it's uhm....it's nothing....I'll let you get back to work..." Raf mumbled, suddenly sounding nervous as he fumbled to hide the object he'd been holding. Miko rolled her eyes.
"After all the work I did to get his attention!" She followed her friend back to the lounge area. Ratchet watched them, not really processing what they were doing. He then turned back to his task.
What was I doing again?
"Hey, Ratchet," Bulkhead greeted, coming from the hallway. "How's your, uh...data surfing going?"
Right.
"Very well. I am nearly finished with three of the four sectors I was to organize today," Ratchet heard his voice respond.
He looked up to see Bulkhead staring at him, eyes rounded with concern and worry. However the moment he raised his head to see him, he switched his expression to a normal, casual one.
It was fine if he did that, Ratchet thought to himself. Everyone had been doing it for the last two months now, anyway.
"Well...that sounds good! A-anyway, I'm gonna...go for a drive..." he responded, sounding awkward. Ratchet nodded an acknowledgement and turned back around. Feeling guilty, Bulkhead looked as if he wanted to say more.
But he knew better than to bring up what it was they were both still thinking about.
He turned and transformed, then left. Meanwhile, Ratchet tapped at the screen, barely thinking about what he was actually doing.
Some small part of him wished for a warm touch on his shoulder as he was finishing up.
A warm, baritone voice to calmly whisper, "Good work today, my love. Come, rest with me in my quarters."
It's not your fault...it's not your fault....there was nothing you could do!
His mind repeated what the others had gently murmured over and over on that day and every day after.
But it was...
He heard the small voice protest. He clenched his fist and locked his jaw.
It's not your fault, Ratchet. You didn't kill him!
The medic felt a lump in his throat. With all his might, he swallowed it, controlling himself.
But I did...I killed him.
"Ratchet?"
Jack. It was Jack's voice.
Ratchet felt his arm quivering, his gaze and body frozen in one place, as if someone had hit the pause button on him.
"Yes?" Everything felt distant now. He felt his arm drop and his head turn to stare at the small human teenager.
"So...how's it going?"
"Fine."
"Oh...well, it's raining cats and dogs out there!" He joked, pointing at his shirt. "I got a little of it.."
"You did?"
"Yep. Might wanna tell Bulkhead to be careful on the roads, right?"
"Right."
"Right...so, I guess I'll leave you alone, then..." Jack backed away, saying something to Miko and Raf as he neared the couch and TV.
All of a sudden, Ratchet was aware of how cold his shoulder felt.