Chapter 1
Summary:
Harry gets vaporized.
Notes:
So this didn't really transfer, but once upon a time, like ten years ago, sparkling!au crossovers were kind of hot. Elfling!au crossovers lasted a little longer on LotR archives so if you know that trope you know this one.
This is a super old fic but I still update from time to time and have a lot of fond memories and awesome readers because of it.
Just a heads up. It's weird, there's context. But it's not on this site haha.Just accept the handwaving, no need to sweat the details when this is basically a streamlined medium to shovel as much hurt/comfort and adoption fluff into a fic as humanly possible.
Hope you have fun with me!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
As soon as they stepped out of the car and onto the hot asphalt of the parking lot, Harry felt the thrum underneath his torn trainers.
Like guitar strings against the soles of his feet, the vibration traveled up his entire body and left him stiff and covered in goosebumps.
"Hurry up, boy." Aunt Petunia snapped, shoving him away from the car and toward the Hoover Dam.
"Is that an earthquake?" He asked, taking a few cautious steps that felt normal enough.
"Don't be stupid." Was all she said before leading Dudley to the office doors peeking out from the colossal structure. Harry trailed in behind them, hardly paying attention as Aunt Petunia passed along her tickets and bragged happily about the discount Uncle Vernon had managed as a Grunnings employee on an important international business trip.
Another pulse shook under his feet, strong and fast, sweeping through his skin. Harry stumbled into Dudley, looking at the ground in bewilderment.
"Hands off." Dudley kicked him, allowing Harry to scramble for balance before he hit the floor.
"You didn't feel that?" Harry demanded, was there an earthquake happening without their notice?
"Enough of your funny business, brat, or Vernon will tan your hide." Petunia said lowly, passing him by to greet the tour guide in the next room. The group was fairly large, large enough that the room was cramped and hot, and the hallway the guide presented even more so. Still, everyone shuffled through, cameras flashing and perfectly at ease.
Harry trailed behind, gingerly stepping on the traitorous ground that no one else was reacting to.
As the guide began to explain the historical significance of Hoover Dam, the thrumming hit Harry again, and only Harry. No one else flinched or rocked as the vibrations traveled from the rubber of his shoes to the tip of his nose, and stronger than before.
Harry pressed a hand against the wall to keep his balance, swaying helplessly.
The guide lead them deeper into the dam, where only fluorescent lights kept pitch blackness away and the stuffy air was giving way to a cool cave-like atmosphere. Harry expected the wave this time, it was coming at steady intervals. This one was stronger than all the rest, it made his skin tickle and buzzed right into his knees. Harry leaned harder against the wall, falling further back to keep from landing right on his face. Still, he searched the adults' faces desperately for any sign of acknowledgment.
What was going on? No one had even blinked. Was he sick? He had been stuck in his cupboard with a fever before and had never felt so loopy and clear-headed at the same time.
They traveled even further into the dam, and this time the pulse came with a barely audible hum, so quiet Harry would've thought it was just the noise of idle chatter if it hadn't ringed right in his ear like a whisper. The simultaneous thrum made his teeth rattle.
"Aunt Petunia." He whispered nervously, speeding up to the group to catch her eye. "Something's wrong. I don't feel-..."
"If you get sick in this room you'll be shipped back to Surrey in a dog crate." Aunt Petunia cut him off, and Harry shook his head.
"No, it's weird. There's this feeling in -"
The thrum jolted up his spine, fast enough to make his feet numb. The whisper was louder too, a clear straight note all around him.
A sharp pinch made him focus on Aunt Petunia's pale face. "No freakishness here, boy." She hissed, "Shut up and keep your abnormalities to yourself."
She tore herself away from Harry to surge to the front of the tour group, leaving Dudley trudging reluctantly in her place. Harry let himself fall back, rubbing the burning spot on his arm where she'd pinched him. It had been a bit of a long shot to ask his aunt for help, but Harry had no idea what he was supposed to do.
The further into the tour, the worse it got until Harry was stumbling drunkenly after the group, his ears ringing and joints aching. The noise wasn't actually unpleasant to hear, like music if it were narrowed down to a single all-encompassing note. Harry was certain he was going mad, though. Poisoned or feverish, he was at the mercy of whatever was going wrong inside of him.
Twenty minutes later, the tour finally arrived on the lowest floor available to the public, and though Harry had tensed and braced himself for impact, it still hit him with the force of a truck.
He slipped to his knees, legs completely numb with the thrumming in the ground, and bones aching as they ground together with the ferocity of the shaking. The tone in his ear was deafening, covering his skin and surrounding his world.
It was the vibration, Harry realized dimly, having a hard time concentrating when the vibration was so overwhelming. The tone had the physical force of the thrum, and it was saying something.
….Co-...-oser...com-...loser…..com-...clos-...
There weren't actual words, the tone was still a single note. But when Harry lowered his head to the floor...it was like what he was hearing meant something, and he was figuring it out.
Harry shut his eyes and waited for the next pulse. It didn't hurt as much when he was limp against the cement floor, but his head was starting to throb and the sensation of his skin going numb and his bones growing sore wasn't pleasant.
…-ome closer…..come clos-...co-...closer….come closer….come closer…
Come closer.
Like a lightning bolt, Harry was struck with the desire to do exactly what the force told him to. He pulled himself from the floor and onto wobbly legs, he wanted to come to the source of the vibrations under his feet so badly it hurt.
When Harry looked around, he was startled to find the hallway completely deserted, the tour had gone on without him and no one had noticed. He knew he wasn't worth much fuss, but it was odd that even Aunt Petunia had been fine leaving her ten-year-old nephew collapsed in a hallway where anyone could see him.
Shrugging it off, Harry stumbled to the first elevator he came across and hit the lowest floor before the tone struck him dumb with its weight.
...Come closer….come closer….come closer…
Harry toddled out of the elevator on the lowest possible floor and knew he needed to go deeper. It was still under his feet so he opened a wide vent into a ventilation shaft and crawled inside. He had no sense of direction in the black vents except to go further down.
It was so cold in the shaft too, chilled air blowing clean through his threadbare T-shirt and making him shiver. His hands against the frigid steel burned and numbed over time.
….Come closer...come closer...come closer...come closer…
Harry couldn't keep his grip with the thrumming pounding him from all sides, and he dropped and rolled noisily through the vents, smacking into a wall only to fall down another shaft. He kept himself tucked as tight as possible, a strategy meant for Dudley kicking him down more than one flight of stairs until he finally lost momentum and come to a crashing halt. Harry gulped in big breaths, his heart jackhammering in his chest.
His whole body throbbed like one big bruise and his knees and elbows were scraped bloody, but nothing felt broken.
Harry dragged himself a few more feet until he found a light source, and fell face-first to the cement floor of another hallway. He lay still for a moment to catch his breath and wait for the pain to die down.
Come closer. Come closer. Come closer. Come closer. Come closer.
It was so much clearer now, the note that swept the entire world away. Harry was almost there.
He got to his feet, gritting his teeth against the stinging of his scrapes and throbbing of his bruises to limp forward. More than one person in a black suit strode by, but none gave him even a passing glance.
Harry took a turn on the next hallway and entered what looked to be a warehouse covered in computers. There were people in white coats here, typing madly on their machines or racing down the aisles with clipboards and papers bundled in their arms.
Harry stalled awkwardly, but no one looked up or scolded him for wandering so far away from the tour.
Come closer. Come closer. Come closer. Come closer. Come closer. Come closer.
Harry stiffened and craned his neck, it was almost screaming into his face. The thrumming was no longer against his shoes, but blanketing his body from the side facing further into the warehouse. He was on the right level.
Disregarding the people around him, he raced down the warehouse and followed a stern-looking old man through a scary door, full of lights and buttons that only opened with a frightful hiss after the man pressed several buttons and stuck a card into a slot Harry hadn't noticed before. The old man didn't seem to notice how close Harry got, he pocketed his card and turned to begin speaking with a woman in a huge plastic suit that covered her face and hands. There were others dressed like her, with rubber gloves and plastic goggles all rushing around holding silver instruments and blinking devices.
Come closer! Come closer! Come closer! Come closer!
Harry left the weirdly dressed people behind and carefully continued forward. The warehouses were getting darker now, fluorescents glinting from vaulted ceilings. Towering structures were taking up space instead of people, thick cranes and platforms and railings crowded close together.
Finally, he saw it. He could've never guessed what the tone was coming from but as soon as he laid eyes on it, a jolt went through his heart and another wave crashed over him.
Closer! Closer! Closer! Closer!
Unbidden, his feet began to move him toward the monolithic giant. A block of pure gold larger than anything Harry had ever seen. Indescribably huge and stretching to the very top of the vaulted ceiling. Inscribed on the block were thousands of intricate spirals and jagged symbols, stretching across the sides like stunning art. Harry couldn't tear his gaze away, it felt magnetic even from here, restless and ancient in a way Harry wasn't sure he would ever understand.
Harry was shaking by the time he was within reaching distance, his head craned to take in every detail he could, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. Proud and powerful, like an idol, Harry instinctively knew he wasn't allowed to touch it.
Still, he couldn't stop his trembling arms from raising and he didn't want to stop his palms from pressing against the side of the cube. Light overtook his vision and he knew without a doubt that he had garnered the cube's undivided attention.
The block was hot to the touch, pulsating like a heartbeat, and Harry wasn't sure if his head was invaded or if he had been dragged inside the cube. Either way, he wasn't alone anymore.
The presence was all around him, against him, inside him. Harry was a flimsy thing, solid as tissue paper by comparison, completely at its mercy.
After a moment in which Harry was examined like a germ under a great microscope, it spoke.
Perfect, it rang out, perfect.
"W-what?" Harry croaked.
Able and fitting, a gift, though Harry hadn't thought it capable of emoting, he got the distinct impression it was pleased with him.
This will go, his forehead heated up like someone was pressing a hot penny against his lightning bolt scar. You don't need it, this will go.
"Y-you want my scar?" Harry asked cluelessly. He didn't want to part with it, the only thing Harry really liked about himself.
In the way, pointless. This will go. It is taking up space.
His next question was ripped away with a shout of pain as the hot penny sensation increased tenfold, it burned against his head with fiery intensity. Harry tried to yank himself away from the cube but his hands were stuck tight.
There was a terrifying tugging sensation in the center of his chest to accompany the horrid burning, something was giving way inside of him.
"Stop!" He yelped, but whatever it wanted was torn away with a blinding heat and a furious shriek that didn't come from Harry.
There, it purred in his ear. Harry tried to lean away, but there was no escaping its crushing hold. There. Much more room now, perfect.
Harry didn't want to examine why he felt lighter than before, why he felt that, without the cube's grip, he would float away. Whatever it had taken had been heavy and large in a way Harry couldn't describe. Like if someone shook him, things would rattle inside now.
"What do you want?" Harry whimpered fearfully and felt the sensation he was being stroked like a pet now.
You will not die, it vowed, you are the hope of worlds.
Harry couldn't understand, his head was swimming and he felt faint. Unlike any other? He was chosen because he was a freak?
You will not die, it repeated when he didn't respond. Your spirit will not warp, you already hold a spark within you, this will not change. Only the rest.
"Are you gonna possess me or something?" Harry cried, blinking away tears.
No. You are a holder, you will hold us. His forehead heated again, and he flinched away.
"You want to be in my scar?" Maybe Harry was simply crazy, maybe he was raving from the trunk of the Dursley's car right at this moment. Nothing made sense.
Beside your spark, held in a perfect gift. Capable of carrying our spirit alongside our will, but first you must carry our spirit.
"What do you-"
Fear not. You will live as the hope of worlds. Fear not. We are beside you now.
Harry's whole body was heating up now, and it wasn't stopping. "What-"
A spark so close to our own, made for change. You will change. Others like you have been witnessed, but none so perfect. Only you will change.
The fire was unbearable now, Harry writhed against the being, pain overcoming all his desperate questions.
Peace, fear not and change.
Harry knew no more.
Harry's flesh body blackened and curled against the Allspark, the energy at the center of his chest galvanizing and pulsing right back against the limitless power rushing from the cube. Strong and magical, versatile in a way muggles' souls weren't. The Allspark worked quickly for the tiny gift, melting bone into alien steel and churning guts into black shiny gears. The little holder would have to become a skinny thing, the human creatures surrounding the Allspark had been careful to bring as little metal as possible into its reach. As if the Allspark would bless them with anything more than the facsimiles of life they demanded every so often.
Just as expected, the gift was taking to the change, all the other aliens poking at the Allspark would've died irrevocably once the brain oozed away. Their find was of a species more familiar with transformation, receptive to the Allspark in ways it had never encountered outside of its own children. Its soul knew to survive when the shape around it contorted beyond viability, to hold its breath and wait for the next moment. The Allspark watched as the holder's life force blazed with vitality while all else turned to blinking lights.
When the spindly frame was finished, the Allspark watched as the gift's spark shifted, integrating itself into the very core, touching and connecting and unifying in a beautiful harmony the Allspark hadn't witnessed in millennia. As the spark set to spinning in a way it hadn't needed to before, all other functions sank away. The shape had changed, and with unification, the soul had changed as well, meeting new demands and forgetting old ones as easily as water changed shape in a container.
The Notice-Me-Not charm Harry unknowingly cast in his previous lifetime crumbled, the power holding it in place removed from existence. Several things happened at once.
Petunia looked up from her purse, startled to realize her ungrateful nephew was not back in the parking lot with them.
The panicking scientists, bustling to discover why the cube was active, froze in absolute horror as they spotted sparks and supernatural light at the foot of the colossal artifact.
Sector Seven agents swarmed like a nest of angry bees, closing down the dam and trying their hardest not to let the stark terror show on their faces when they heard exactly what the scientists found.
A prophecy in the Department of Mystery was discovered shattered across the floor. Though no one would make the connection, its destruction perfectly coincided with the demise of Voldemort's horcrux.
And at the end of it all, the Allspark sank itself into the gap in Harry's spark where a horcrux had once dwelled, slotting in perfectly.
Once the dust had cleared, the dam had been evacuated, and personnel had been suited against radiation, the incident was explored.
Before the cube, strewn like an offering and sticky with baked blood, Sector Seven found another NBE. It was incredibly minuscule in comparison to the NBE-01, and there was heated debate over whether the item should even be included in the same classification. For all that it was bipedal in form, eerily humanoid in shape, and robotic in nature, that was where the similarities ended.
The item was a base silver, slight and sharp and if it were to activate and stand upright, barely four feet tall. It had four limbs that ended in five points, and though the razor digits could be considered dangerous, there were no other obvious weapons they could find through visual observation alone. There was very little plating on the new item, whereas the NBE-01 was so thickly armored, reverse engineering required military-grade weapons. It only possessed delicate covering for the upper and lower limbs, the lower abdomen and pelvis, and the head. Fixed in the center of the thorax was a light that shone like a star. Oval in shape, it was placed deep and protected by the thinnest of gossamer sheet metal.
If the item indeed turned out to be a smaller version of the NBE-01, the scientists were very curious to pry further into their larger project and find a similar light.
But perhaps the greatest difference detectable through visual observation and sparse X-ray alone, besides the startling size difference, were the extra appendages. Fixed high on the back of the item were two long silver planks that tapered off into separately directed fine points right before the posterior. They served no obvious function, too flimsy for a shield and awkwardly placed for a weapon. It has been cautiously listed as a purely aesthetic addition, as some of the prior experiments had formed similar additions, such as horns and spines.
Whatever it was, after the panic and confusion had somewhat abated, they needed to act. Sector Seven placed the item in a thick, bullet-proof case the size of a large shed, ringed it with agents prepared to fire at will, and held the standard electrical charge on standby. They would treat it like any other experiment but be ready to act if this was not the case.
Scientists flocked to monitors displaying live footage of the box, looking over scan after scan with frantic enthusiasm. It gave off a high heat signature, hotter than a human but not dangerously so. It was fully active, every nameless component whirring smoothly inside the item's chest. All that was left, was to find if the item had an awareness to regain or if the cube had given them a well-formed puppet. Then they would either gain another project or eliminate a threat.
Harry could never describe how it felt to wake up after touching the cube. He had no words to convey the change in his own perception, in his perception of his perception. His senses bombarded him, strange and new, and what information they gave even worse.
He opened his eyes in alarm, and there was something missing in the instantaneous sight. The pain was gone, he no longer felt like he was burning alive, but he didn't feel better. He felt...indescribable.
His thoughts were no longer fluid nonsense, they were squared in a way he had never experienced. Tied down to something physical, they fell through his head in boxes that lead from one thought to another and could be clearly tracked. Every shift and twitch had a new deliberation, like even as he did these things subconsciously, he was monitoring them.
A movement caught his attention, his sight was incredibly sharp and bright, everything looked so much clearer and lighter than he had ever seen before. It hurt, he could barely comprehend what he was seeing, feeling, touching, smelling, tasting. All of it slamming into him, screaming for attention.
His gaze narrowed on the moving object, a sweaty face. The man's eyes were wide and his nostrils were flared. Harry's sight traveled lower to find the man in a black suit and crouched halfway behind a border of some sort. In his hands, pointed steadily at Harry, was a gun.
Harry tried to give a shout of alarm, flinching back. But what came out was an inhuman warble, too loud and too high.
A flurry of movement made him dizzy, and suddenly there were dozens of faces. All people in black suits crouched behind the border and aiming guns at him wherever he looked.
What had Harry done? Why were there so many people with those weapons that killed in Dudley's movies? Had Aunt Petunia called the police on him after discovering he had left? Was he in trouble for trespassing?
A screeching noise hurt his ears, the boxes jolted in pain, the array of information stunned him momentarily.
He finally tore his head down to the source of the noise and pain and found a metallic claw scraping against the clear plastic floor. Harry pulled away from the claw, a cry of fear pouring from him that sounded nothing like it should. But Harry couldn't focus on that because the claw followed him. It moved when he moved, and he felt the plastic slide away from what should've been his hand.
Trembling, Harry followed the claw up to a narrow silver arm that glinted off the fluorescents. It continued, tapering to a point after connecting to a limb that looked far too similar to a forearm. The forearm was fused to a dark joint, and Harry had to crane his head to see the rest because it was his chest.
A mass of glittering motors and gears, twitching and clicking like beetles behind a thin grey casing, where his insides should've been. Gone were his scars and freckles, his bones and muscle, his heart. In their place were smooth metal, wires as thin as thread, and intricate chips and metal bits he had never seen before.
Distantly, he could detect a high, mutant keening noise. And his vision was cutting in and out erratically, his whole body a spasming mess. But Harry couldn't pull himself away from the thing socketed in his chest.
Right below where his collarbone had once protruded, sat a blinding light. It came from his center, glowing brightly enough to look like a moonbeam escaping the metal plate. It was inside him, inside this machine. He was the machine.
A clawed hand, Harry's clawed hand, rose up. It trembled wildly, the keening noise had risen into an unwavering shriek in the background, Harry felt like he was underwater, everything was drifting away. A single, sharp finger tapped against the plate covering the light. It made a clear, metallic sound. And Harry felt it. He wasn't touching an elaborate prank, a trick glued to his skin. What he was touching was a part of him. It was Harry.
The world suddenly flipped and Harry spilled against the plastic box he was in. Through his tunneling vision, he could see the suited people watching him, aiming their guns at him. Their mouths were moving but he couldn't hear what they were saying over the shrill cry that had yet to falter.
Another movement, and without thinking, his eyes zeroed in immediately. It was a reflection off the plastic of the clear box. It was him.
It was Harry.
That alien, monster face. Flat, oval save for the angular fastening surrounding his head like a helmet. Colorless, metal like all the rest. He didn't have a nose, but he could smell. Where his mouth should've been was another sheet of metal, darker and thicker like the plates on his arms, it wrapped around his face and connected with the helm structure. But he could feel something underneath when he wanted to move his mouth.
He did have eyes, and Harry wished those had been stolen as well. What had replaced his human eyes were so much worse than nothing. Fixed on the flat face, above the mouth plate, sat twin glowing lights.
They were large and inhumanly round, like headlights in the dark. And an artificial, poisonous green.
It was the last thing he saw before the shrieking finally choked off and he passed out.
Notes:
The Allspark, spotting an orphan wizard boy who has the ability to shapeshift and a passenger seat in his soul: Is this free real estate?
Chapter 2
Summary:
Enter the semi-functional megalomaniacal warlord.
Notes:
I will pepper in the fact that I have access to a wiki page full of transformer lingo.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
If one of Megatron's Decepticons ever asked him what it was like to be trapped in his own frozen frame for over a hundred vorns he would dent their chassis hard enough to incapacitate their alt ability, permanently.
If he had to answer, though, and that would never happen because there wasn't a spark in the galaxy that could force him to do anything, Megatron would say it was a lot like going into stasis at the end of a cycle. That is, if going into stasis included white-hot agony that slowly trickled into isolating numbness with every passing nanoclick.
During his less hinged moments, Megatron could believe this experience was torture from Primus himself. Never before had Megatron considered methods such as these, to paralyze another Cybertronian and abandon them on a backwater waste of a planet was brutal in ways mangling couldn't achieve.
Under extreme duress, Megatron might also admit it was an opportunity to reassess his strategy. The frantic firefights that left cities burning and survivors reeling were chaotic, and as a mech meticulously designed to be the perfect military leader, this wasn't a problem. What was a problem was that there was very little else besides those savage battles that rattled stars.
Looking back now he could see this was the time to regroup.
After Prime had made that cowardly call to lose the Allspark to the distant grasp of galaxies, Megatron should've pulled his Decepticons in. He should've organized them into tight squadrons and kept in formation, cataloged supplies and soldiers to meet maximum efficiency. But he hadn't. Panicked and enraged, just like every other starving Cybertronian, he had launched any responding fleet into the fray and began searching deep space.
It wasn't a complete mistake, of course. Megatron rarely made truly unsalvageable mistakes. He had found the Allspark. In fact, it was close enough to feel that nostalgic hum of constant power rush up his frame like it had when he was still Lord High Protector. Now it was just a waiting game. The sticky germs of this miserable planet would soon slip, they were doomed the moment he landed. And he cracked their planet in half, he would take the cube and finally gather the Decepticons. Their rise will be glorious, the Autobots won't stand a chance against-
A strange frequency reached his audio receptors and tore him from his half-processed fantasies.
It wasn't like the primitive radio transmissions and weapon whines of the fleshy humans, too high and complex. Megatron waited to hear it again, anything to escape the monotony of watching the insects scurry about.
The frequency rose once more, peaking into a shrill ring. It was bizarre, Megatron's programs churned creakily, decoding the data at a crawl.
He mulled over what his mainframe had already repacked in the meantime, it sounded familiar. Like a song he'd heard so long ago all he had to remember it by were muddled emotions. Had one of the bastardized protoform drones the humans forced from the Allspark managed contact with him?
The frequency continued steadily, and finally, Megatron processed the audio transmission.
It was Cybertronian, no doubt about it. Far too nuanced for a protoform, and yet it had no true intent. Just...aimless noise. An upset wailing, no message, only a simple distress signal.
It...itched too. Ancient, half-crumbled protocols were shifting and crashing under the feeble ability that still remained in his frozen processor. He wanted to do something, he wanted to approach whoever was crying underground with him. The call was high-pitched, panicked, and painfully intimate with something forgotten inside him.
The noise broke off into a keening warble, and Megatron came to a jolting halt.
It couldn't be.
The crying continued, ringing through his helm, scratching at him to move, to help. But he hadn't heard that sound in eons, stars had aged and died just in the time he'd heard it while still on Cybertron. The youngest generation of Cybertronians, what few remained, had never heard it and didn't expect to. That sound, for all intents and purposes, hadn't existed for several lifetimes time. And it was coming from only a short distance away, blocked by a few measly feet of concrete and reality itself.
There was no Primus-damned way he was hearing a sparkling.
Megatron was barely aware of the alerts flashing against his optics, purposefully recording the cry despite his own deep denial. His entire body leaned a minuscule fraction forward in the direction of the noise, like a tree stretching toward the sun. He wanted to see, he needed to make sure. There was absolutely no way it was true, but he needed to see anyways. Where was it? Why couldn't he see it? Where could it-
His processor crashed in the next moment, wiping him clean in one brutal swipe. Megatron was left watching the ants scramble in a thoughtless haze. At least he lost perception of time while his programs were rebooting.
The item activated for a brief period of time, and the scientists were still rushing about collecting and interpreting data as quickly as their coffee could carry them.
It had established itself as the least weaponized of all the experiments thus far, as deeper scans had revealed nothing like the miniature machine guns and knives often created by the other robots. Just the sharp digits and natural hardiness that came with being a machine.
Besides the awful, but harmless noise it emitted, it was also the least aggressive so far. The only experiment on record to not attack the box. It had moved away from one of the agents, appearing agitated, only to deactivate soon after. If its behavior continued this precedent, it might remain unfrozen in favor of studying active interaction for some time to come.
Of course, security hadn't lessened. The ring of agents was being cycled out regularly and all anti-NBE weapons were on standby, but there was murmuring from management that wasn't as grim as it could be. A head scientist had even been appointed, with just the right amount of ruthless curiosity and silent obedience to unruffle a few feathers.
Her first act as head scientist, in charge of everyone onsite but the chief of security, had been to give the item a classification. She'd deemed it the NBEP-00, the Non-Biological Extraterrestrial Product, settling the confusion over its origin. It was similar to the NBE-01 but came directly from the cube, a product of aliens rather than one itself. What that actually meant had yet to be determined. Actually figuring out what had set the cube off in the first place wasn't their field.
An assistant stuck a clipboard to the bulletproof box and it was time for the assembled team to start a new observation session.
When Harry woke, he remembered perfectly why he had passed out in the first place. There was no way to forget how monstrous he was when his very thought was wrong, not even in those dozy first seconds. Warped and alien and completely inescapable. He curled tight, unable to squeeze his eyes shut but they weren't working anyway.
Despite his efforts to reject every inch of himself, it didn't take long for him to notice the shivering. His...moving chest was clicking loudly and his metal body was shaking uncontrollably. The plastic pressed against him was frigid and he was so so cold.
Harry pulled himself up on wobbly, metal hands. They trembled weakly, silver and inhumanly thin. Harry forced himself not to look when he...decided to see again, sitting up as another shiver wracked his freakish form. He felt nauseous too, absolutely sick with cold and terror.
It was like last Christmas again, when the Dursleys had locked him outside to enjoy his fully prepared Christmas feast. His lips had been blue by the time they remembered to bring him back in and he'd been sick for the next two weeks.
Would he get sick again? Why was the box so cold? Were the people with guns trying to freeze him to death? Could a robot die of the cold?
Could a robot die?
A flash of white snatched his attention, and he glanced up. There was a woman standing beside a black-suited man holding a gun. She had a long dark braid and glasses and was speaking in a quiet tone. He recognized her from the room next to the cube, she was one of the scientists. Did that mean he was still in the dam?
Neither appeared cold, oddly enough, not even a scarf when it felt like it should be snowing. They were both looking right at Harry, and he scooted clumsy away. There wasn't much room to move around and his back soon hit the other side of the box. There was a weird clink when he did so, it felt like his back was larger than it had been before, even though he was smaller from what he'd seen so far.
Harry glanced around and caught the flash of a metal plate before it vanished from sight behind him. He followed it, twisting to catch a look a glimpse.
It was fixed to his back, and it took him another three circles and a spill onto the freezing ground to make him remember he could see his reflection against the plastic. Harry stiffened, did he dare look? Did he want to see more after what he had witnessed already?
His face had been monstrous, not a speck of human boy in the angles and slates, and his chest left him feeling lightheaded. Was Harry ready to see what had become of his back after that?
Shaking still, now from both the cold and nerves, Harry swung his head to the wall, claws clenched. He had to know, though he couldn't think of anything scarier than his own appearance at that moment.
Even through his resolve, it took Harry a few moments- and he knew exactly how long he took down to the decimal, which only made it worse- to tear himself from the front. His...not eyes...automatically fixated on that star-thing emitting light from inside, and his knees wobbled...Harry yanked himself away, determined not to catch a glimpse of whatever was left of his face in the process.
Two vaguely triangular shapes sat high on his back, leading down to two complementary points. They looked like the wings of Dudley's toy jets. The ones he used to scrape his own name into the wooden floors of the hallway before blaming it on Harry.
For a moment, the horror abated somewhat. A speck of curiosity flared at what the protrusions might mean. Did Harry have wings? Could he fly now? He had dreamt countless times of flying away, it was one of his favorite fantasies.
Another harsh shiver struck through him, and now he noticed the wings on his back shook too. They were a part of him. Could he move them then?
The white coat brushed by the corner of his eyes. Harry wobbled away, the volume of his clicking chest almost as loud as the static squeal he let out when he spotted the black gun in the white-coated woman's hand.
Her expression didn't change, she was watching the oddly shaped, square gun. A man in a lab coat next to her was writing on a clipboard. Then she spoke, and it was loud enough that Harry could hear through the plastic box.
"The NBEP-00's temperature is still dropping, currently at 100.8 Fahrenheit. NBEP-00 is now showing signs of thermoregulatory distress. Initiating first attempt at intervention." Harry didn't have a clue what any of it meant, but one of the black-suited people breaking the circle to approach the box held his complete scrutiny.
In the man's hand was a normal gun pointed unwaveringly at Harry through the plastic, in the other was something folded into a square. Harry tumbled against the opposite side of the box, as far away as he could manage, His shivering was constant now, an irritating click against the plastic as his metal parts glanced against the sides. He hadn't realized how much silence had comforted him until his ruined body took it away.
For all that his attention was clearly on Harry's every movement, he didn't react to the retreat. Instead, the man tucked the square under one arm and reached up high to touch a small black box stuck to the side that he hadn't noticed before. Little black wires protruded from the box to the top of Harry's cage, and he realized he could spot hinges on the sides. It opened from the top, the man was opening the top.
The man typed a passcode, his eyes still trained on Harry, just as dark and dangerous as his gun. Harry pulled his arms over his head and pressed himself further into the cold plastic. He was so scared of the man. He didn't want to be shot, he didn't want to die alone in a box without even knowing why any of this had happened to him.
Harry flinched as the hinges let out a pressurized hiss, cracking open. In a fluid motion, the man dropped the square into Harry's box and slammed the top shut behind it. The box could only have been open for a scant three seconds.
The man sprinted back to his circle and Harry was left alone with whatever he dropped inside.
He was locked back inside with a dull click of finality, trapping him back in a display case for all these strangers to watch. He was numb now with the cold, and he peeled himself off the ground to rub his arms like he had as...a human…? What was Harry now? He wanted to be human.
The friction didn't do much, his hands were cold and his arms were cold and between them, he couldn't warm up. The trembling was getting stronger now, affecting his already precarious balance.
Harry watched the square in an effort to distract himself from the painful freeze. Up close it looked soft, like a folded blanket. He couldn't see anything wrong with it, and softness sounded nice.
Creeping cautiously forward, alert for any signs of movement, he extended a long, fleshless limb and poked at it with his claws. It felt cottony and warm.
Without a thought, Harry snatched at it and pulled it apart to reveal a heated cloth. It was a blanket! It felt like a cloud compared to his old sheet at the Dursleys but it could've been steel wool for all he cared when the blessed heat soaked in.
Harry cuddled into it, a birdlike chirp escaping his throat. It was large, wrapping around his jutting body twice over, and it felt like he thought a hug might feel like. Surrounding him from all sides with a warmth he craved.
The shivers died down, and the noises from all the gears and chips in his chest quieted to a tolerable level. He was so tired, he just let the contentment wash over him in seeping waves and turn him to ooze.
In his comfort, he almost didn't listen in time to hear the woman speak again, the square device tucked out of sight as she fixed a clipboard to the side of the box.
"The intervention was a success, the NBEP-00's temperature has risen to 107.2 and is no longer displaying distress symptoms. Further homeostasis experimentation pending."
"Do you think the NBEP-00 is endothermic? A heat lamp could be placed above the case during control." A man in a fellow lab coat approached from behind the small gun-dotted wall to peer at Harry. Harry watched him in return, trepidation warring with his sleepy appreciation of the heated blanket.
"Further testing will need to take place before anything is ruled out, but it is my belief that the subject merely has a higher core temperature than past experiments. Otherwise, its base temperature would resemble the intervention."
As Harry observed the two scientists discussing something in intense jargon, a strange bravery overtook him. Maybe it was because he felt safe cocooned in his blanket, maybe it was just seeing the two adults speak in non-threatening voices so close to him, maybe it was a mix of fatigue and hysteria. Nevertheless, Harry opened his mouth, even though he couldn't see it with the plate in the way, and spoke to them.
Or at least tried to speak to them, because what came out was a hapless, uncontrolled croon.
The two doctors stopped speaking abruptly and their eyes narrowed on him with ferocious intensity. Harry screwed up his courage and tried again.
Why am I here? He wanted to ask, Who are you?
Babbling, bird-like nonsense was what he supplied, soft and emotionally toned.
"Some experiments before the NBEP-00 exhibited vocal tendencies." The woman murmured, her eyes gleaming behind her glasses. "I wonder what the purpose is."
Seeing that he was getting nowhere, Harry resigned himself to charades. He wanted to know what was going on, why he was in a box and why he was a monster and what had happened-
But first, he needed this woman to speak to him.
Harry held up the smallest corner of his blanket, high enough that she looked at it for a moment before her eyes darting back to him. Then, tucking it firmly back in place, he pointed at the woman. The circle of suited people shifted behind their small border, many guns clicked warningly and Harry huddled further into his blanket.
Thank you, he tried to say clearly. But what rose through the air was another chittering croon.
The man in a white coat was scribbling absently onto a notepad he'd taken from a large pocket, neither of their eyes left his form. Neither responded either.
Maybe something simpler than a thank you. Harry tapped the plastic floor of his box and then gave an exaggerated shrug of confusion, complete with a tilted head. He'd never actually played charades before, he had only seen it at dinner parties if they forgot to send him to the cupboard before the guests arrived. He was probably awful, but scientists were supposed to be smart, right?
"...Is it-"
"These experiments aren't capable of purposeful communication.." The woman cut the man off is a bored tone. "A dog has more complex language processes. You've got to think outside the box with these things, it has to be something else." The man frowned and went back to writing on his clipboard.
"This isn't exactly like the other experiments, it would be careless to not consider all possibilities." He murmured out of the corner of his mouth.
The woman stared at Harry for a moment longer, a wrinkle between her brows. Harry stared back. "I suppose it is larger than the others," She hummed. "Perhaps it is capable of some basic language comprehension. I'll keep it in mind. Now get back to work."
She jotted a quick few words down before spinning on a flat-footed heel and stalking away.
Harry looked after her, small and uncertain. He didn't know what to do. What had that cube done to him? Why were these people mad at him? What had he done to get trapped in a clear box? Was it because he was a freak?
The man took a few more minutes to sort through his papers before leaving as well, he didn't look back.
Harry huddled deeper into his blanket, miserable and achy. He wanted to go back to the Dursleys, where he knew his place and he knew the rules. But even if he could go back now, there was no doubt in Harry's mind that Uncle Vernon would kill him.
A mournful warble rose from his chest, and even though it was eerie enough to set his teeth on edge, the lonely sorrow in his own cry brought a throb to his chest. Could a robot cry? Harry felt like he was just a breath away from sobbing.
No one else spoke or approached him, and Harry had nothing better to do than pull the blanket over his head and pretend he was somewhere else.
Megatron's cortex rebooted lethargically, and he wasn't sure how long it took for his higher processors and memory drive to reactivate. At least a cycle had passed, the pests weren't nocturnal from what he could tell and so the bare minimum of useless bags of liquid managed the underground hut when their sun was turned away. As of his optics' activation, only six insects had scuttled past.
He lost what little interest he had in the behavioral patterns of pathetic worms when his memory banks debugged his last thoughts and he was landed right back into that muddled confusion.
The recording played clear through his helm, the perfect example of a sparkling distress signal. A signal he was spark-bound to receive and act upon as both Lord High Protector and Cybertronian. But it was only a glitch, an error rebounding through his wires. There was no possible way what he heard had been real.
Maybe he had pulled up too many programs at once or the ice had crept a little closer to his mainframe. Either way, it was only a delusion, no matter what the recording said.
As if hearing his decision, the noise rose to taunt him in his icy prison once more.
The vibrations rattled over his facial plates, the frequency crept into his audio receptors and wouldn't leave. A sparkling's cries, this time a little more refined.
Beyond the primal distress was an intent, or what Megatron must imagine was intent. It rose and fell in tandem with the transmission, a plea for assistance. The phantom wasn't just frightened, it was alone and helpless and needed somebody to pick it up right in that instant.
Megatron knew it was an absolute lie in his own treacherous processors, but he could almost feel the groan of his pistons pressing against frost, his body practically moving without him to find the infant.
It was cruel, if Megatron could, he'd shut down his audio and terminate his programs to silence the false sparkling. He didn't want to hear what might never be again. He didn't want to be reminded of the dead rock of Cybertron, of craters holding the steel scraps that had once been bright, happy children.
Megatron certainly didn't want to hear one in fear and pain, and know with the utmost certainty that almost every sparkling since the war began died sobbing on the same pitch, starving and sick without enough energon to survive.
As if finally acquiescing to his wishes, the madness permeating his matrix gave a tentative, friendly burble. Megatron could almost picture the sparkling before him, tiny servos grasping in a silent demand to be comforted.
Primus, when was the last time he had touched a sparkling? Had he known it would be the last? He couldn't recall, and even with fully functional wiring, he doubted he would.
Megatron wished he could growl, what did it matter now? His own hallucination was dredging up useless things, there wasn't a point to any of that reminiscing. He wished it would just shut up. He didn't need more reminders of things long since past, he didn't need to be regretful or nostalgic. Megatron had always looked forward, Autobots were the ones who turned back to the consolement of past comforts. His Decepticons were pledged to finding a future, not restoring an age long dead.
So what if sparklings were gone? Megatron would win, he would take the Allspark already in his grasp and he would make more. Nothing here mattered except for the Allspark. This auditory glitch meant nothing to him.
Megatron had almost managed to convince himself of that fact, proud and regaining confidence as a welcomed silence stretched all through the planet's lunar cycle.
At dawn, it was irrevocably shattered, when the humans wheeled out their greatest mistake to date.
Harry was jolted awake by the hiss of his box's hinges. He lifted the blanket off his head and peered up in time to see a pronged stick jab his shoulder and pinned him to the ground by three rubber-tipped points.
Harry let out a shocked scream, squirming like a worm against the weight of the prong. The black-suited man who wielded it watched impassively from outside the cell.
Harry recognized that look on Aunt Petunia often enough to know nothing he'd do would garner assistance, so Harry cast his eyes desperately over the ring of armed men. There, directly ahead of him stood the braided scientist from before and a scraggly old man with cold eyes and a dozen tiny badges on his uniform.
Two more people lifted the top clean off Harry's box and thrust pronged sticks inside. Harry was stuck, unable to do more than flop with the weight pressed to a near painful degree on his chest, as one prong dragged his warm blanket off and the other jammed his arm against the floor with enough weight to break human bone. Harry hitched a cry of pain, were they trying to kill him?
Harry twisted to use the claws of his metal hand to scratch and pull at the sticks, tugging and stabbing wildly with terror. The second prong caught his arm in a single lance, and it was stuck to the floor on the other side of his body, pinning him like a butterfly to the floor of his box. Harry kicked uselessly, his head was running at dizzying speeds- numbers and pressures and statuses, and somehow he knew if things kept escalating he would blow a fuse.
"Steady!" The old man growled, his voice a powerful reverberation that seemed to come from all sides. "Now!"
The box was suddenly made feeble, and the panels wobbled and fell away. There were no more borders, he was very clearly in the same room as all these people. Harry went limp, his eyes wide and whole body prickling and clicking in alarm.
The next person to approach wasn't wearing a suit or a white coat, instead, it was a looming, armored monster. The man was covered head to toe with thick black padding, helmeted and breathing like an ox. He stepped past the long prongs, a rounded device in his gloved hands.
Harry didn't bother struggling, taut as a bow he shook and waited for the man to kill him.
He took a step right into Harry's space and he shut his eyes tight against what was going to happen next.
Click! Click!
Harry felt a weight enclose around his claws.
Startled, he craned his neck to see his hands encased in the contraption the armored man had held. The prongs weren't lifted, so Harry wasn't completely sure if they were meant to be constraints or not.
"Make sure to keep the intensity as low as possible. If you use the same levels as the NBE-01, it will freeze solid." The scientist lady piped, and Harry had just enough time to feel panic strike up his metal body before it started.
He saw the hoses last. First it was a loud funnel noise, a bit like a small vacuum. Then a piercing pain climbed up his limbs with the creeping slowness of spiders in his cupboard. And lastly, he saw the people in plastic bag suits holding hoses that spewed billowing clouds of biting chill wherever they pointed.
Harry trilled with fright, but he couldn't escape. Where the mist touched and burned, his limbs locked up. The plastic-clad people paid special attention to his hands and leg joints, and it hurt so badly. He could barely twitch, like a dying moth, all he could do was cry.
"Alright good, keep it right there." The scientist shouted above Harry, and he felt a sense of movement.
Half-blind with pain and disorientation, he only squirmed minutely and let out wheezing protest as the world seemed to swing around him, blurry and spinning.
The warehouse ceiling vanished into sleek grey panels. They had crammed him into a much smaller, opaque holding cell. He was half-curled and couldn't shift, every inch was pressed against a wall.
The cold mist kept coming though, trickling over him with the ferocity of boiling oil on his skin. Harry inched his head, and it felt like a chore when he could barely move or think past whatever they were doing to him.
A vent was pressed right against his head, barred and gated. He was in a dog crate, Harry recognized the small caged opening from Aunt Marge's visits.
"Ease up, the NBEP-00's core temperature hasn't stopped dropping yet."
Harry whimpered pitifully in the cage, no longer able to tell if the cage was moving or if his vision was swimming.
After some immeasurable time had passed, Harry came to a halt. The grate revealed a different part of the warehouse, dark and filled with scaffoldings and ladders. A gloved hand swam into view as it swiftly undid the locks and the gate swung open just in time for a pronged stick to loop under a limp arm and drag him out as if he were a stray dog.
Harry was briefly airborne for a nauseating moment, floating weightlessly, and then he dropped to a cold, cement floor, flopping with all the grace of a broken doll.
"Absolutely perfect." The woman hummed, voice quieted.
The spray wasn't hitting him anymore, in fact, he couldn't hear the evil things blowing either. Harry felt his fingers twitch, the numbness receding. They had removed the restraining contraption at some point because his claws were free.
The pain seeped out of him as slowly as it came, but it left the bitter ghost of cold in every component. He was shivering violently by the time the numbness had completely fallen away, every piece of him clacking far too loudly.
He needed to get warm. Harry hefted himself onto shaking arms and looked around his new plastic cell.
It was a little bigger than his other one, wider at least. It wasn't empty either. In one corner sat a cotton dog bed and a heating blanket identical to the one left behind. Harry crawled to it immediately, flopping onto his aching side to burrow himself in the wonderful blanket.
From his new vantage point, he could also see that the walls held far more hinges and locked parts, some round and others like mail slots on a door.
"You see? Perfectly safe, and now there are far more vantage points for security. I daresay eliminating it will be incredibly easy with all the equipment from the NBE-01 so close by." The woman murmured, and Harry huddled away from her. He throbbed viciously, but he still pressed himself against the wall opposite the scientist. When he did this in his cupboard, Uncle Vernon usually left him alone, as it was far too much trouble squeezing his huge body inside to grab him.
"The NBEP-00 will receive separate offensive and defensive equipment." The old man's voice grunted from further away, and the woman shrugged carelessly and left without another word. The ring of people hadn't followed Harry, for the first time since that cube had turned him into a horrible monster, he was truly alone.
This time, he prayed they would never return.
He buried himself in blankets, tucking his stiff limbs under the cover without removing his attention from outside of his box. He was still trembling, feeling wrung out and hyper all at once. As if sensing how overwhelmed he already was, something pinged inside his own head right then.
It was hard to describe, like a window in his thoughts, pristine and artificial. But that made it sound as if Harry wasn't a part of its creation, and it was clearly his head. It pinged again, conveying urgency and otherness all at once.
Harry activated something, he wasn't sure what. It all came blaring from his own mind. Harry had probably gone insane, succumbing to the 'bad breeding' of his parents as Aunt Marge had always predicted.
A noise filtered through his head, not from Harry, but not coming from any outlying source. It was an impossible deep rumble, thunderous and heavy. It was surprisingly pleasant, a bit like his heating blanket in that it covered him completely. Harry could sink back into his bed with that sound, sheltered and warm.
The low noise continued for a few minutes, never letting up or wavering from its one powerful note. Harry was fairly certain it was a scary sound, but he was dozing to it very easily. It felt a bit like the cube had, but not nearly so overpowering and ambiguous, buzzing serenely in his chest instead.
Sadly, right has Harry was deactivating his vision, the rumble tapered off. He squirmed in displeasure right up until whatever had given him the noise in the first place spoke directly into his head.
-State your designation and status.-
It echoed, but it wasn't his voice. It was like a lion's roar, powerful and edged in predatory impatience. Harry couldn't flinch, there was no escaping the demand.
-State your designation and status.- It repeated, male and loud.
Harry opened his mouth to respond, but the gear-grinding nonsense that fell out didn't seem to be heard.
-State your designation and status.-
What was he supposed to do? The voice sounded so angry, and Harry already ached from punishment.
-Access your communication engine and pull up your active programming.-
Harry had never heard those long words strung together before, and he shouldn't have been able to understand them at only ten years old, but something inside him...recognized what the voice meant. He shifted his attention to the box in his thoughts that had brought the voice and this time he used it.
-Er, hello?- It was scattered and clumsy, but actually intelligible language finally came to Harry.
There was a very long pause. Harry remained taut throughout, waiting with bated breath to see if the voice would respond.
-...C-correct. Now, are you able to state your designation and status?- It was a little softer now, perhaps Harry had been forgiven.
But he had already hit an obstacle again, he physically winced. These words...Harry didn't know them, not even his scary robot parts.
He pulled his wirebound knees up to his chest under the blanket. What could he do to not upset such a big voice?
-I...I don't know...sorry.-
-What did your creators call you? Where were you created? When were you created? Who are your creators? Why were you created? How were you- The voice cut out, leaving Harry reeling with so many odd questions.
-Listen carefully. Do you know what your creators called you?- This time, the voice was much slower and deliberate.
Harry mulled over the question. Did the voice mean his parents? -My name is Harry.-
-'Hae-ree'? What an idio-...odd designation. Who are your creators? Do you know where they are now?-
The voice said his name funny, emphasizing the wrong syllables. Not that Harry could talk, he still sounded tinny and warbly in his head, however, he was speaking now.
-Um, James and Lily? But they're dead.- It seemed like Harry was in trouble with the voice as well. People only wanted to know who his parents were when he was doing something bad, like rifling through the garbage can at the park for food.
-...I see. What was their faction? Autobot or Decepticon?-
Autobot? Harry had never heard those words before, should he have? Had he messed up again? -Um, neither?-
-Hmph, neutrals then. Makes sense with those designations…- The voice trailed off for a moment but resumed before Harry could respond that those names weren't alien but rather common.
-That doesn't matter now! Slag it. What's your status? What have these gormless rats done to you and for how long? Are you injured?-
What have they done? Was he referring to the people under Hoover Dam? Harry honestly wasn't sure what they'd done to him. He was completely lost, just a ball of hurts and scientific horror.
-I don't know...I woke up in a box, and it was so cold. Then I had a heated blanket for a little while. Then they pinned me down. I don't know why, I swear I wasn't trying to cause trouble. And they froze me and p-put me in this box instead. I don't want it to happen again, what did I do wrong?-
-Are you still cold? Was anything damaged? What are your energy levels?-
Harry wished the voice would answer some of his own questions, but he didn't dare push. -No. I have another blanket, it's okay.-
-Stay under the blanket. This putrid hut is far from optimal heating and you appear too young to regulate yourself correctly.- Harry had no intention of coming out of the fleecy dog bed and blanket, but it was a little nice for someone else to confirm that he was doing the right thing. Wait, did he just say appear?
-Y-you can see me?-
-Affirmative. You have been placed closer to my proximity, I am to your left.-
Harry stiffened, he hadn't noticed anyone so close to him! He peeked his head out and turned to peer to the left of the box. There was no one there, just more machinery.
-I-I don't see you-
-You're looking right at me, are your optics fully functional? I am the mech currently being coated with liquid nitrogen. I'm the biggest object in your scope of vision-
The...mech? Harry tilted his head up to the colossal tower of dark gunmetal a few hundred feet away, the biggest thing that he could see. At first, he was confused. He didn't spot anyone on top of it, and the thing was too oddly proportioned to be a vehicle, but then he really focused on the shape. Two powerful legs, two jagged arms, and at the very top of the giant was a scowling beast of a face.
Harry let out a squeak, was that thing talking to him?
-What's wrong? Have you seen me?- The growling voice fit the titan perfectly, cruel death in every fitted component.
-You're the robot?-
-Negative. I am far greater than any primitive human tool. I am a Decepticon, more magnificent than anything else that has ever laid eyes on this planet.-
Harry was once more clueless to what the creature meant, but there was no getting around what he looked like. A giant robot stuck under the dam with Harry, being sprayed with that white stuff that hurt so much, Harry shuddered.
-D-doesn't that hurt?-
There was a pause.
-There...was pain initially, but nothing on this planet is even close to my strength. Now I am merely delayed, I will escape soon.-
Harry watched sympathetically, empathy unfurling inside of him at the sight of this other robot hurting like he was hurt. After just a taste of immobilization in his arms and legs, he couldn't imagine how it felt to be completely frozen.
Huh, that's right. This other monster was a robot too. Maybe he wasn't so alone? Had he done something freakish too? -Um, are you...like me then?-
-Explain.-
-Like, not human? Made of metal?-
-Of course. We are Cybertronians. What in Primus' name did those parental units teach you?-
Cybertronian...Is that what he was? Was it some sort of advanced robot? Like one of Dudley's newest game systems?
-I've never seen anyone like you.- He answered truthfully.
-Of course, you've never seen anyone like me, I am the strongest of our kind, a lord among lords.-
Harry could certainly believe him, he had never seen anything so big before.
-What's your name?- He blurted, excited that such an important person was speaking with him, that they were the same.
-...Primus. I am Lord Megatron, leader of the Decepticons and rightful ruler of Cybertron.-
Notes:
Megatron, infamous jokester: lol wut were you like, born yesterday or something?
Harry: (இ﹏இ`｡)
Chapter Text
Small. The sparkling was so painfully, pitifully small. Hunched in a primitive prison it was clearly even tinier than the insects that put it there. Were sparklings supposed to be so minuscule? Megatron wasn't sure, but it definitely didn't belong on the floor where anything could happen to it. So young and weak, the very sight sent lightning bolt alarms down his mainframe, urging him to the point of pain to rectify the situation.
His combat matrix was restarting over and over. But it wouldn't work, battle plans wouldn't boot to his hud and it was getting hard to think past that.
-A lord! That's amazing!-
Megatron started, pulling back from his daze. He had just been staring at the sparkling while it mulled over his hasty introduction but thankfully, his distraction hadn't been detected.
When the tiny infant's words washed over him, so bright and impressed, he preened helplessly. Haeree was astute to already see how incredible Megatron was compared to the scrap heaps that had utterly failed in caring for their charge.
Those neutrals are lucky they died before Megatron discovered their incompetence. Not only had they somehow managed the impossible feat of creating a sparkling but failed to tell anyone and allowed their treasure to fall directly into a nest of miserable humans, death would've been a mercy after he was finished punishing them for their stupidity.
-Yes, and as lord, I place you under Decepticon rule.- He transmitted firmly, there was no Primus-damned way that this absolute miracle was ever going to stray out from under the vigilance of the best Decepticons had to offer, and that was Megatron himself.
-What does that mean?-
Right, it didn't know what Decepticons were. Exactly how long the sparkling remained with its creators was a mystery to Megatron. Slag, everything about Haeree was a mystery to Megatron. He still didn't have a clue how it had been created when he hadn't seen a single drop of energon in millennia, nevermind with sparkling-grade refinement. And that was just sustaining, how had a pack of witless neutral cowards managed to not only find this distant planet but a fully-functioning femme to reproduce with as well?
-Hello?-
Megatron grit his denta, he needed to focus. He couldn't afford to get so sidetracked when a slagging sparkling was depending on him.
-It means that you are a Decepticon now and are my charge. I will protect you-
-Er okay...But, um…-
Was it normal for sparklings to be so skittish? Megatron could barely remember how one behaved, but some malfunctioning program deep down didn't like it. -Speak-
-Um! How...would you, er, since we're both here...How could you protect me? They got you too, right? -
As soon as Megatron properly registered the audacious question frustration and fury slammed down on his helm, soaking into his frame and corroding his spark. He was Lord Megatron, a god among ants on this insufferable planet. On a mere whim, he could wipe the very galaxy from existence, it would be disgustingly simple to protect a sparkling from humans. How dare anyone doubted him, especially for something so rudimentarily easy.
-I mean it seems like you've been here a while? And you're covered in ice. Er...I'm just not sure what being with your Decepticons means since we're all alone down here. There's no one else like us right?-
Except it wasn't. Except he was stuck and frozen and the only reason he wasn't a pile of scraps was that the humans couldn't penetrate his armor.
Except the High Lord Protector, leader of the Decepticons, and greatest mind of the Cybertronian wars couldn't help a single, tiny sparkling. And that sparkling knew it.
-Hel-
-Be still.- Megatron snapped, he didn't want to hear anymore. - If I say I will do something then it is so!-
The transmission went deadly silent, leaving Megatron in his stew of humiliation and anger. This Primus-forsaken planet wasn't worth the space it took in its galaxy, it was a rock full of lifeforms less intricate than a virus. It absolutely burned that he was caged on such a mudball, a true visceral pain that made him want to vomit. If hatred alone could melt ice-
The smallest, softest whine broke through his cloudy haze of rage with the ease of a solar ray, sending him to a smashing halt.
Another minute whimper reached his audio receptors, followed by several smothered hiccups. Megatron turned his attention back on the clear cell that held Haeree. The sliver of cloth that made up a heated cover did little to hide how the sparking was now positioned, curled into a ball with its fragile servos thrown over its helm.
For more than half a breem Megatron sat stock still, staring blankly at the shivering scrap of a Cybertronian. A white noise filled his helm at the horrible sight of Haeree's distress, the sheer revulsion at the thought of it continuing without his aid was just as striking as his shock. And with the dawning understanding that Megatron was the one to put it in such a state...
Megatron hadn't felt shame in vorns, but that was surely what was lancing through him now. He had let his distractions overwhelm him and lost control in front of a vulnerable infant, had he really just yelled at Haeree as though he were an unruly foot soldier? So fragile and so sensitive, parental units had brawled mechs for behaving so abhorrently toward a sparkling even during their golden age. His programs had fallen into even greater disrepair than he'd realized to have allowed him to bring a sparkling to crying, how disgraceful.
Haeree didn't calm, remaining under the cloth and making scared little noises to itself. Each sound was a blow against his spark. It was clearly trying to appease Megatron by refraining from drawing any attention to its state of upset.
He drudged up whatever salvageable caretaker protocols he could recover and got to soothing the tiny creature. Letting out a dark purr that he couldn't recall ever using before that cycle, he crooned for Haeree, infusing as much tenderness as he could muster into it.
He only vaguely understood the settling prompts embedded in those transmissions, promises of safety and femme engine mimicry entangled to compose a frequency of reassurance. Megatron didn't really need to understand, he supposed, but to successfully maintain his new charge anything less than complete mastery was unacceptable. Once reinforcements arrived he would demand caretaker package downloads from any soldier who retained programming.
The sparkling had already proved extremely susceptible to this form of comfort when Megatron had almost sent Haeree into stasis earlier with the very same method, and sure enough, the shaking quickly ceased.
Megatron continued his humming, something cinching in his chassis when Haeree gradually relaxed against its nest to his lullaby. He waited for the sparkling to slump, void of any tension, before stopping.
He took a moment, though he wasn't sure who it was for, and then began.
-You have nothing to fear from me, little one- He vowed gruffly, allowing the sparkling to stiffen when first hearing his words and carefully review what was said. When the Haeree didn't reply Megatron continued.
-As my charge, I will never harm you and will never allow others to harm you.- It was easy to promise this, but he had to address more than that. Steeling himself against the ghosts of indignation and pride, he allowed, -Right now I can't move to defend either of us.- The humans would pay for making him say that, forget endangerment, he was going to aim for outright extinction. -But I'm already working to get both of us out. We will not be here long. You will trust me and I will not abandon you.-
Haeree was silent for a long, drawn-out moment. Finally, a little head poked itself out of his covers and faced Megatron with the roundest pair of optics he'd ever seen.
Megatron wasn't sure what a sparkling would look for in Megatron, he couldn't move a single faceplate to express himself after all. Nonetheless, something was eventually found.
-Promise?-
He hated being questioned, but when it was spoken in the tilting, vulnerable lisp of a child, he found it was much harder to ignore. -Affirmative-
Haeree swiftly fell into stasis after receiving his reassurance, leaving Megatron in the unending agony of watching a captive, grossly unprotected sparkling lay prone mere feet from where he stood. He almost regretted reviving those caretaker protocols, they jabbed so viciously at him for not doing what he was hardwired to do and just walk over there and pick it up and never let go and destroy any obstacle and kill anything close and-
But he couldn't begrudge the insistence, not when he wholeheartedly agreed that he should do just that, and he would. All he had to do was pull a few unsavory strings and he would be free.
If it had just been him in the hellish depravity of a human cave, Megatron would've gladly waited it out and burned every measly lifeform during his inevitable escape. But now he had Haeree to think of, and though it hurt him dearly, he would have to take a few humiliating risks.
Megatron's navigation and communication units were the first, and only, processors to recover full functionality under the tight hold of ice, and it was time to put them to use.
Forcing himself away from the sparkling, Megatron turned all of his power to those sole units and dampened his bruised pride once more.
He sent a detailed, hyper-powered transmission directly into the cosmos, colored and clear in ways only a command class processor could achieve. It traveled faster than light speed, already hurtling like the loudest echo to rattle off planets and smack into every clueless mech on the way. In it, much to his chagrin, he placed a purposefully anonymous report of his last actions as an unfrozen epitome of power traveling to Earth, and a confirmed alert of the Allspark's presence on the very same rock.
It would bring his minions, greedy and desperate for any word of their dictator or the cube. It would also bring that overambitious wastrel Starscream, if he still functioned. But worst of all, he had no doubt in his spark that it would send Prime and his pack of mongrels sprinting to his location with the same precision and force of a fellow command class mech.
One of his greatest treasures while stewing in his prison had been the knowledge that Prime was hopelessly lost in the stars, searching fruitlessly for the Allspark he so foolishly cast away in the first place, it firmed his hold on sanity and left a wonderful escape when the situation grew too...burdensome. Now it would have to be sacrificed in favor of sending an armada of Decepticons and Autobots racing for this pitiful excuse of a lab, inevitably loosening his bonds and allowing for both his and Haeree's escape.
Once his transmission was long gone, he ripped himself away from his trepidation and zeroed back on his charge to distract himself from his heavy gamble. It was surprisingly easy to get swept up in staring, recording every twitch and murmur of his miracle.
It truly was a tiny thing, so insubstantial compared to the rest of their race. Though it hurt to contemplate without doing, Megatron wondered how it would feel sitting in his servos, frame curled into his digits, the most precious handful he could ever hold.
He would find out, he swore to himself. Once his Decepticons tracked him and the cube down and disrupted his deep freeze, Megatron would scoop Haeree up and never let him back down. After all, who else should Cybertron's last great hope and finest treasure belong if not to Lord Megatron?
Harry dozed comfortably for an uncertain amount of time. He kept himself nestled securely in his blanket, warmth pouring into him and blocking out the harsh fluorescent lights. He knew distantly that no matter how long he stayed buried in his dog bed, he was still inexplicably a robot and still trapped in a horrible lab under a dam, but it didn't seem so dire when the cotton cushioned his uncovered joints just right.
Honestly, he wasn't sure robots were supposed to be as sensitive to sensation as real people were, if not more so, but he'd never met one before so he supposed he could be wrong. Lord Megatron seemed to feel the icy blast like Harry had, after all.
Lord Megatron... Harry wasn't sure how to face the hulking behemoth so close to his box. It was part of the reason he was determined not to fully wake up until he absolutely had to.
On one hand, the other robot was ferociously terrifying, with a temper and voice that made Uncle Vernon look like a quivering mouse in even his most terrible rages. On the other, he was the only person to talk to Harry since the cube turned him into a robot, and had even promised to protect him. Harry didn't know what to do with that, did he trust Lord Megatron to keep his promise? No one had ever gone to the trouble of promising anything to him, never mind upholding it.
-Little one,-
Harry didn't startle, Lord Megatron voice was as soft as his dog bed.
Instead, he poked his head out of his pile of cloth and chirped questioningly at the gunmetal goliath. A chill began to creep under the covers, so he tucked the corners more firmly against the cold air of the lab.
-There are currently humans heading toward you from your left side. Stay alert.-
The last of Harry's sleepy contentedness fell away with a shower of icy alarm. He jerked upright, clutching at his blanket to keep it strung along his winged shoulders like a cape, and spun to watch the approaching adults in white coats.
"...nough time to calculate median readings, so I believe testing can begin." The same woman from before was announcing to the others
She didn't immediately look at Harry, instead of flipping through the clipboard stuck to his plastic box for a few moments, allowing the group of scientists to flutter around him excitedly.
He curled away from the walls, closer to the center of the box. What were they planning to do?
-I'm still with you, Haeree. Be calm.-
They didn't leave him in suspense for long. After the woman finished whatever she had been reading, she and two other scientists picked up sickening familiar prongs and slid them through the box's slots to strike at his prone form. Harry ducked the first attempt, rolling to unsteady, clawed feet.
The blanket fell away, but he was far too busy to mourn the loss of heat, stumbling out of range of one prong only to barely duck another.
"Better agility…" The woman mused, calm and collected even as she jabbed with the brutality of a spearfisher. "Hansen might've been onto something with his endothermic theory."
A stick swung low and in his haste to avoid being pinned, Harry tripped over the rod and sprawled on the ground. He didn't get another chance.
In an instant, all four sticks pulled back and slammed into his limbs hard enough to send them screeching against the bottom of the box.
Harry cried out, it hurt and kept hurting because they weren't letting up.
"All clear." One man announced, and another woman, at least twenty years older than the first, slid open a huge panel at the front of the box and climbed inside.
Harry squirmed under his restraints. She held a yellow strip of plastic, a syringe, and an exhilarated half-smile, and all of them were scary.
He didn't get very far though, and could only watch as she crouched right over his metal body and clipped the plastic on his ankle, bending it into a ring of yellow paint and black digits. Just as eagerly, she jabbed a wire in his arm in one smooth motion and he whimpered at the sight of neon blue liquid seeping into the syringe.
Giving him a terrifying wild-eyed grin, the woman spun around and climbed right back out.
"All clear."
The sticks were pulled free in unison and Harry wasted no time diving back under his covers to nurse his stinging arm and wrapped ankle in peace.
"Send that to the lab ASAP. And you, start running diagnostics on that GPS, I want to make sure it's emitting clearly."
"Yes, ma'am." "Right away!" Hurried footsteps tapped away in different directions. Harry stiffened, the rest of the scientists hadn't moved yet.
He turned his attention on his arm, a wire was punctured and a little kinked and he felt it like a bee sting. It dribbled blue liquid sluggishly, thinner than blood but warm like a fresh wound. Harry guessed robots could bleed after all. He closed a claw around his arm to stem the flow, and though it hurt, he couldn't help feeling a little relieved that he wasn't so completely removed from humanity.
"You may all observe if it doesn't interfere with your assignments, I'm implementing a series of intelligence tests between major projects. To measure its similarity to both cube experiments and NBEs."
There was a wash of excited murmurs that Harry ignored. He never wanted to leave the safe heat of his blanket again, especially with those awful prongs so close by. He shifted to inspect his limbs for scrapes or...dents, he supposed. It had felt as if his joints were going to pop off like one of Dudley's poor toys.
There was a scuff on his shoulder, a gritty off-white found on the heavier lawn tools he'd dragged across the Dursley's cement driveway and it ached like a deep bruise. He carefully kept his blanket off that side and hoped it would heal like a bruise too.
A thunk was suddenly heard right by his side, and Harry flinched away immediately, huddling under his blanket to get away from whatever had just landed in his box. When his wings hit the wall he ripped the cover off and, heart hammering, took a good look at the intruder.
It was a wooden block, brightly painted and paired with a pile of wooden shapes that looked just as cheery. The block had holes in it and seemed to be hollow and bottomless. It was a very strange thing to see in his plastic cell.
Harry stared in bewilderment, fear almost forgotten in his confusion with the...toy? Had the scientists given him a toy?
He dared to glance away from the addition to find the scientists clustered around his box writing feverishly and muttering amongst themselves. They didn't hold any sticks or weapons and almost all of them were devoted to a clipboard so he gathered his courage and approached the block.
He poked at it cautiously, like he had his blanket when it first arrived. It didn't move or indicate in any way that it wasn't a simple toy. He picked up a shape, noting belatedly that he just ruined the yellow paint with the acid blue blood staining his hand. He sighed regretfully, but the swirl of color didn't look ugly.
Harry crouched by the block and looked it over. He had only his memories of watching Dudley play to understand how to handle the toy, but it seemed straightforward.
The wood in his hand was shaped like a circle, so he slipped it into the correct hole and watched it rattle to the ground within the block. Harry tensed, waiting.
A few minutes went by and nothing happened, only the scientists buzzing with new vigor in the background.
Harry wrapped himself up in his blanket and sat down in front of the block. It wasn't very interesting, but there was a satisfaction in matching the wooden shapes to their holes. He got to work, a welcome and peaceful distraction from his pain and fear.
Harry picked up a star and dropped it through the roof of the block. When it hit the pile of blocks already inside and didn't sink more than an inch, he couldn't hold back a giggle.
"The NBEP-00 completed the test in three minutes and twenty-two point two seconds, marked and recorded." One scientist announced, eyebrows pulled high.
Harry admired his finished toy for a few more moments, a tiny flame of happiness flickering inside. He reached over and lifted the block to pull the shapes out from underneath and began all over again, this time only pushing them in enough to fill their holes instead of letting them fall.
Once the sides of the block were made solid, Harry dropped the star again, only for it to drop right past its hole, leaving a star-shaped gap in his toy.
Harry felt like an idiot, of course it would fall. The hole was on the top and didn't have any way of fighting gravity. He shouldn't have been so startled, honestly, he was fairly sure his toy was for babies.
Nevertheless, he frowned in frustration and carefully lifted the block a little to the left in order to recover his star shape. None of the other pieces fell out during the move, so he contentedly left it complete to fiddle with the green star alone.
"Is the NBEP-00 allowed to do that?" One scientist asked, and the woman with a braid rolled her eyes.
"It's a block of wood. I would never give it something with destructive potential. The puzzle will be retrieved later." She wrote on the clipboard pinned to his box before turning to regard the group of scientists. Harry watched.
"You may continue to observe while I am away but any interference is strictly prohibited. Lopez, you're with me in the labs." Then, with a short man scrambled to follow, she left again.
-Lord Megatron?- Harry asked timidly, glancing up at his self-assigned protector. He had been quiet during Harry's attack and puzzle-solving, was he still planning their escape? -Do you know why they gave me this toy?-
He rolled the star in his hand while he waited for a reply, eyeing the scientists thinning away. Most stayed behind, in fact a few dragged seats over. Why were they staring so much? Was it really so interesting that he could put blocks through holes?
The silence stretched and Harry's back stiffened. -Lord Megatron? Are you listening?-
He had yet to reply, Harry faced him completely, hands clenched tight in his blanket. -Are you still mad? Hello? I'm sorry if I did anything.-
Harry stared up, stricken. Why was he being ignored? What had he done? The Dursleys never wanted him to play with toys either, but he'd thought…
-I'm sorry.- He blurted. -I promise I won't do it again. I didn't mean to be bad. Please don't ignore me.-
"Why do you think it's making that noise?"
"I don't know, maybe it's mad the star didn't stay."
-Lord Megatron? Please. Please please don't leave me alone.-
-Lord Megatron? Lord Megatron?-
-P-please…-
-Haeree report.-
Harry jumped to his feet and scurried to the side facing the lord. -Lord Megatron!- He leaned against the plastic, palms splayed. -I am so sorry. Please don't leave me. I didn't mean to do anything. Please-
-Be still.- Lord Megatron didn't sound furious like last time, instead there was newfound exhaustion in his voice. Harry obediently froze, eyes fixed on the giant.
-Little one, you're shivering. Get under your thermo-regulating cloth.- Harry looked down at his hands, they were trembling against the plastic. He hadn't noticed, even now he couldn't feel how cold he must be.
Nevertheless, he pulled the blanket over himself and sat on his dog bed, star clutched to his chest.
-Report. What happened after...that revolting stain entered your cage?- Harry blinked at his vehement question, shouldn't he know? The crowd of people couldn't have blocked his view from so high up, right?
-She stuck me with a needle and took some blue stuff out of me...remember? Y-
-Where did it stab you? Are you still bleeding? How much did it take?- Lord Megatron cut him off without hesitation, leaving Harry to flounder.
-Um, my arm. She stuck a wire and took a little bit. I stopped the bleeding already, I think.-
He bent to check, and sure enough, the wire was crusted over with dull blue, far too pretty to be a scab. There were a few more smears from where the blue blood had spread on his plates, which was kind of gross, but he didn't have any way of cleaning it off and he certainly wasn't going to stain his blanket.
-Stand up for a moment and face me. Be quick.- Lord Megatron instructed, and Harry did as he was told, feeling oddly self-conscious despite being in a robot body, but it might've been because of the staring crowd of people in white coats.
-...down…-
-What?-
-Sit down now. Rest.-
Harry was growing concerned for the other robot, was he sick? His voice was coming out so distant and mumbled.
-...the thing on your ped. What- What is it?-
-What's a ped?-
-Later. What's the yellow item stuck to you? Did the humans do that too?-
Oh. Harry looked down at the plastic loop around his ankle, smoothing a claw across the numbers stamped on it. It was too thick to actually be plastic and he could sort of feel bumps when he pinched it, but that was all he knew about it.
-Yeah, the same one with the needle did this. I don't know what-
-It's emitting a signal. Don't be alarmed, it's only a tracking device.-
Harry spluttered, sticking his leg out as though putting distance between the loop and himself would stop it. -What do you mean? They'll be able to find us after we escape!- Bubbles of panic were rising in his chest, how could he get away if these people only had to follow the plastic on his foot?
-Hah, as if their primitive, moronic devices are any match for my strength. I'll remove it once I'm freed. You will rest now, that the insects bothered to attach their garbage to you indicates a long-term intention of keeping you uninhibited.-
Whatever had slowed Lord Megatron down before was definitely gone now, Harry's head swam with all the information the lord had dumped on him, and he scrambled to keep up.
-You can remove it then? They won't find me after we leave, right?- He pushed timidly, there was no way Lord Megatron would stay with him if he became even more of a burden.
-Haeree, once I'm free they will never be a threat to you ever again. Now rest, you need to recover.- The deep, promising growl of his words was a balm against Harry's worries, and he sank against his dog bed with a relieved sigh.
But still, the fast-paced events that had blown by in only the last hour remained swirling in his head.
-Um, Lord Megatron?-
-What?-
He shifted. -I'm sorry for playing with that toy. I didn't know it was wrong.- He tightened his grip on the star. -Please don't leave me.-
Lord Megatron made a static-y noise that sounded a bit like a sigh. Harry waited impatiently, he knew he shouldn't make demands so soon after breaking a rule, but he didn't think he could stand being all alone and forgotten under the dam.
-Haeree, I don't care if you entertain yourself with that crude slab of organic matter. I don't 'ignore' things. If I feel you have disrespected me, I will make my displeasure known immediately.-
Harry relaxed his claw, watching the star fall from his hand to the dog bed beside his face. His chest felt a little looser, Lord Megatron hadn't been angry with him. He hadn't done something wrong then.
-But why then...if you weren't mad-
-Oh, I was furious.- Lord Megatron's pitch was so low it vibrated through his chest in phantom waves. -I wanted to rend the human that entered your cage limb from limb. They have no right to touch you, and to see those worms use sticks as if you were cattle- They'll know my wrath very soon.-
There was a pause, Harry didn't realize he had slid the blanket back to stare up at the other until he was no longer mesmerized by the black fury practically radiating off his form.
-And that rage was incompatible with my current state. If I become too...unfocused my system can't maintain my level of function and I must reboot. I was unaware of what transpired during your attack, I will not let that happen again.-
Harry didn't really understand, did Lord Megatron get so mad he broke? Maybe it was a bit like fainting, though he'd never heard of it happening out of anger before.
-Now rest. I have no way of fixing you if you become injured or sick, so you must conserve your energy and heal efficiently. This is an order.-
It felt like all Harry did was hide and sleep in his cell, but as if by command, fatigue suddenly crested over his head and made his limbs grow heavy. It wasn't any worse than his cupboard, he supposed, and snuggled into his bed with the wooden star beside him.
The crowd hadn't left, but at least they were quiet. He deactivated his vision and allowed sleep to take hold.
-and the metal construct surrounding your face is called a helm. Your helm also includes a mouth plate or a modulator, I'll look closer once we're free. Either way, it wraps over your lower faceplates.-
Harry let a claw trace around his head, feeling over the smooth lines and ridges of the 'helm'. It was much rounder than Lord Megatron's, but they still looked similar. -So you have a helm too? But not a mouthplate.- He confirmed. It was only from the side, but he could see that the other's face had been frozen twisted into a snarl that bared sharp 'denta'.
-Correct. I have much more armor than you, though. See how my upper frame extends past my arms? Those are pauldrons. And the thick plating on my struts are called greaves.- It was almost ridiculous to little Harry, that such a hulking giant as Lord Megatron had actually put more thick armor on himself.
-And what are these?- Harry turned and twitched what he was fairly sure were wings. He had been practicing moving his robot parts while learning what they were called, but it was still a little hard to figure out how to control parts that weren't there when he was human.
-Those are your wings, but you're only moving your flaps. Work harder to control them.- Harry glanced at his reflection and pouted when he saw that only bottom panels of his wing were listening to him. It was even harder than figuring out how to focus and unfocus his vision.
-So I can really fly with these?- Harry needed to know, working to get them to hitch upon his command.
-You won't try until we get out.- Lord Megatron demanded, no room for argument in his voice.
Harry slumped in disappointment, but when his wings followed the motion in their own dejected drop he straightened immediately in excitement.
-Did you see that?- He asked, not tearing his ey- 'optics' away from his reflection.
-Yes, keep it up.-
Harry nodded and watched excitedly as he managed to slowly pull his wings up a little higher, the tips spreading a few inches. He looked up at Lord Megatron, glowing with pride. -You saw that too, right?-
Affirmative, you're improving quickly.-
Harry beamed up at the other robot and looked down just in time to see his wings flutter in his reflection. Startled, he frowned confusedly over his shoulder. He hadn't meant to move them, then.
He tried to repeat the motion but the tips of his wings only dipped and rose like before. -They just moved on their own.- He reported cluelessly.
-Hmph, I've seen seekers use their wings to express themselves before. It's probably an emotional tell.-
-What's a seeker?-
-It's just a type of Cybertronian. When your frame and processors specialize in aerial maneuvers, then you're a seeker.-
So many new labels, it was difficult to keep up. If the 'frame' was Harry's robot body and 'processors' was his brain, then what did that make him? -So am I a seeker too?-
-Unclear. I am...unsure of what stage your frame is in and can't estimate how much you will develop.-
Harry nodded in acceptance and looked back at his reflection against the wall of his cell. He got back to flexing his wings as best he could and while he did so, his optics strayed to the rest of him. Was there anything else he wanted to ask about right now? He'd already asked so many questions, could he keep pushing?
-What about the light in my chest? Er, 'chest plate', I think. What's the light for?-
There was a pause between them. Harry waited, his wings drooping nervously even as he batted away his anxiety.
-Did those slagging creators teach you anything?- Was Lord Megatron's final response and Harry winced away from the aggravation coloring his tone.
-Not really. They died a long time ago. I don't remember that much.- He admitted. Personally, Harry was skeptical that his parents would've known what the light in his chest was anyways. It didn't seem like common knowledge and both of his parents had been jobless drunks besides.
-Of course, they did.- Lord Megatron grumbled before blowing out a sigh. -That 'light' is the most important part of you. It's called your spark and it's your life force, so never do anything that could cause it harm, understood?-
-Yes, sir.- Harry chirped automatically. He mulled over the response, running a tipped finger over his chest plate. He had a spark inside there, it sounded kind of pretty. When Harry wasn't freaking out over being a robot, he could even admit the light shining faintly from him was pretty too.
Harry looked back to Lord Megatron and gave a flinch. It had only just become noticeable, but Lord Megatron didn't have a light!
-Where's your spark?- He cried out in alarm. Had the scientists put it out? Could it be given back?
-In my spark chamber, where it belongs. My armor is thick enough to protect me against any foe, and so my spark is not easily accessible.- Lord Megatron explained slowly.
Harry stared at the other's monstrous chest for a little longer, willing himself to calm. He was right, Megatron was incomparably bulkier than Harry, of course, his spark wouldn't shine through. Harry didn't mind that he was different, though. It would've been even harder to believe he had a glowing soul inside of him if it wasn't so present.
-So all siberians have sparks. They are the most important part of us.- Harry recited quietly.
-It's 'Cybertronians'. And yes, if you are alive you have a spark. They can be linked with others for various purposes, but above all, they are your spirit.- Lord Megatron was a surprisingly patient teacher. Harry hung on every word of his lecturing answers even if it was so hard to understand. The calm tone of his voice, the confidence in his teachings, and most of all his focus on Harry left him reeling in awe.
Aunt Petunia would've kicked him out into the garden for asking so many questions, his school teachers would've ignored him or scolded him for not listening, Dudley would've called him stupid. But Lord Megatron gave him firm direction and steady information, it was enough to make his wings flutter.
-They did it again!-
-Yes, your wings are definitely tied to your emotions. What were you feeling just now?-
To Harry's immediate embarrassment, he blurted the truth without another thought. -Glad that you're here.-
The silence that followed felt like nails against a chalkboard. Mortification swelled in his throat, choking him. -I-I mean- that is-
-Excellent progress, little one.- Lord Megatron interrupted, a gentleness sweeping along his rough voice.
Harry could only stare down at his peds mutely, a little more appreciative that his robot face couldn't blush like his flesh and blood one could.
-Now focus on that feeling to move your wings again- He ordered and Harry eagerly retreated to stare at his reflection and do as he was told.
-Yes, sir!-
-Haeree, the human diseases are approaching you with sticks.- Lord Megatron warned, but Harry could already see them striding forward.
He cringed at the sight of the prongs clutched in their hands, coats painting them a blinding white against the dim warehouse. The braided woman he'd seen every time now was at the head, glasses hiding her eyes in the light reflected.
"Make sure to get every piece of the puzzle." She snapped to one of her entourage, and then four scientists poised themselves at panels into his box.
Harry's shoulder still ached fiercely, and though his pierced wire was almost completely healed, it was still kinked out of place and he didn't want to get in even more trouble. Balling his trembling claws up, he laid himself on the floor and watched tensely.
He didn't have long to wait but it didn't keep a gasp from escaping him when all four points jammed his limbs into the ground. Harry didn't have time to recover before a new, noosed pole fell over his head and clamped around his neck.
By the time the prongs were removed, Harry's claws were encased in the same cuff device as before, he was held from the distance of the long stick hooked under his chin like a rabid dog, and he was outside of his box.
"Clear!" The braided woman called, pulling him away from the scientists cluttering together to pick up his puzzle box and blanket. His attention was yanked away when a sharp push had him stumbling out of the warehouse, his trapped hands bumping uselessly against the noose.
-Lord Megatron!- He yelped, twisting to catch sight of his self-proclaimed keeper.
-I'm here, you will never go far enough that we cannot communicate.- He assured, and then Harry was being dragged down a hallway and past another, lower-vaulted warehouse.
People in suits and scientists intermingled and stared at Harry, murmurs and whispers of curiosity followed him along with the braided scientist at the end of the pole.
When they reached a steel door, an armored man opened it slowly and gave a wide berth as Harry was forced through first, spotting a spartan, wide treadmill than was essentially a rotating mat and an iron handle.
Several scientists stood around it, cameras and notebooks abound and clearly excited to see him. One scientist snagged his trapped hands confidently and chained them to the bar faster than Harry could yank away.
Trepidation swam in his belly as he found himself chained to a treadmill without any controls, he turned to stare at the woman as she dug a remote out of her pocket and knew exactly what would happen next.
-Lord Megatron?-
-I'm here. You'll be back with me soon.-
"Physical ability experiments are now in phase one, maximum bipedal speed experiment is go."
If the treadmill made Harry feel like his body was on fire, the varied agility test felt like he had been reduced to ash. Even Lord Megatron's encouragement could only take him so far, especially when any time he tried to answer back his distraction led to tripping over a tire or smacking into a pole and restarting the entire process over again.
By his second successful lap, Harry shamelessly crumpled to his knees in front of the braided scientist running the experiment, his trapped arms slumped to the side and weighing a hundred pounds. When the chain was tugged back toward the agility course he curled tighter and shook his head wildly. He couldn't speak to anyone but Lord Megatron, but he needed to get her to stop.
"Hmm...it's not particularly fast or strong." Someone mumbled, but all his attention was focused solely on the braided woman watching him with calculated interest.
He wasn't shaking from exhaustion as he might from too many chores at the Dursleys', instead he felt sluggish and a few seconds behind the rest of himself. He drooped a little further but maintained eye contact.
"I suppose we'll take the rest of phase one in portions. Write this session down as part one of phase one." She finally decided, glancing away from him to address the others.
"Understood. Should I put the NBEP-00 back in its containment unit?"
"No, I'll handle it. I need to see that the puzzle has been replaced anyways."
The braided woman took the noose stick in hand and lowered it over his head, Harry didn't bother moving even as his cuffs were unchained. When she hefted the pole high and pulled him up by his throat, he twitched in pain, but he didn't need air anymore and the crushing sensation in his neck couldn't get his knees to lock.
There was a drawn-out moment as he hung limply, a searing pain around his throat. Then, "I'm gonna need a platform truck to cart the NBEP-00 back to its containment unit." She sighed, and let him drop to the ground in a puddle of misery.
Harry blinked up at her and bobbed his head in thanks. Her forehead crinkled into an intense scowl and, while still looking down at him, she plucked a clipboard from one of the other scientists to write a note on the corner.
A steel cart that looked a bit like the treadmill was rolled into the room by a gloved woman in a janitor's jumpsuit, so Harry hefted himself onto the elongated bed of the cart, eager to be taken away from the punishing tests. A new burst of whispers rolled over him, but he was too tired to concentrate on what they were saying. He rolled onto his back to watch the ceiling get higher and higher as he was returned to Lord Megatron's side.
-Status report.- Lord Megatron snapped as soon as he was back in eyesight.
-Just tired...it was a lot of running and stuff…- He mumbled, ignoring the muffled voices of the scientists as he was shoved back into his cell and pinned to the ground while someone uncuffed his claws.
-No damage of any kind? Are you sure?-
-Mmhmm.- Harry forced an optic on and peered around the cell for his bed. He blinked in surprise when he saw the blanket on his dog bed neatly folded and any stains from his blue blood had been scrubbed out of the bed's cotton.
-While you were gone the humans replaced the items in your cage. Nothing harmful has been added.- The other must've guessed what Harry was staring at. He was a little too tired to care, though, and simply rolled into his dog bed and sloppily tugged the heated blanket over himself.
-Good night.- Harry hummed and drifted off into blessed oblivion.
-Sleep well, little one.-
Harry woke up lethargic and heavy, his optics activating after a few seconds delay and his comprehension returning after a few more.
In front of him was a new toy, a pile of foam puzzle pieces with some sort of image printed on them in green and purple. There were considerably more pieces than the previous toy, each about as big as his hand.
Another flock of scientists was sitting nearby, seated in chairs and watching him like a favorite television show. Spotting no threatening tools among them, he set himself to ignoring the lot and sitting up in his bed.
-Good morning, Lord Megatron.- He greeted politely, though he had absolutely no idea what time it was outside of the dam.
-Haeree, you're awake. Status report.- Lord Megatron ordered in lieu of a reply.
Harry stretched experimentally, prodding at his joints and spots he fell on particularly hard. There were a few scuffs and his legs made it clear he wouldn't be running that day, but no real damage. He said as much to his caretaker, who huffed suspiciously.
-No lessons or practice today, do not exert yourself.- Was all he had to say before leaving Harry to his thoughts. Harry was admittedly disappointed he wasn't allowed to practice moving his wings, but the rest of him was relieved to snuggle back into his bedding and focus his attention on the soothingly easy task of solving a puzzle.
The foam was soft under his claws, the colors pretty, and the challenge almost nonexistent. He placed the framing pieces together first and began working up the puzzle from within the edges. He was halfway done when he finally recognized the image printed on the puzzle, it was the green star he kept from the block!
A quick glance around told him that the star had been taken along with the block, but he enjoyed having something new to play with. The foam puzzle was a bit like a floormat and took up from the edge of the box to his dog bed when completed, pleasantly padding the ground.
Harry peeked up at Lord Megatron, about to point out the pattern of the completed puzzle when something sliced through his thoughts like butter.
A blood-curdling wail rattled through his helm, choked and agonized. It wasn't very loud, but it left Harry floundering helplessly under its pain.
-Haeree, status report.-
-I-I'm fine. Someone else is making those sounds.- He whimpered, staring sightlessly out in the direction it was coming from. What was happening to that poor person?
-It's a captured Cybertronian, must have underestimated the humans' freezing capabilities.- Oddly, any alarm that was in Lord Megatron's voice before was completely void now, like he didn't care at all. But freezing hurt! Harry had probably made very similar sounds when he had been stuffed in that dog crate, and being alone had only made it so much worse.
The screaming continued, endless. The frantic shrillness of it disappated, but the pain was clearly too much to handle silently.
Harry tried focusing on the person making the noise, though using the 'communications processor' felt more like a honing set of thoughts than the computer Lord Megatron described, he had to search for a way to contact the other robot.
Where he got the vague sense of his own thoughts accommodating someone else's to receive, sending felt a bit like taking a piece of his head and throwing it to a very precise spot, and it was his own fault if he didn't hit his target.
-Hello?-
The wailing stuttered, like a sob.
-Can you hear me?-
Whoever was screaming remained screaming, but he could hear it lowering to an even quieter level. Harry's wings twitched nervously, was it working?
-Hello? Are you okay?- It was a stupid question, it was obvious they weren't okay, but maybe they'd answer.
-Primus…- An unfamiliar voice croaked. Harry straightened, the components of his chest clicked noisily along with his excitement.
-Hello? Can you hear me?-
-Anngg...Primus, I've glitched. Oh no, oh no, oh no…- The voice was reedy and weak, but sounded reliably male if at a much higher pitch than Lord Megatron.
-Um, I don't know about that. B-but I thought you might feel better if someone spoke to you.- Harry said lamely, fiddling with his puzzle.
-Are you- nhg! Are you real?- What a weird question.
-Of course I'm real! We're not in the same room or anything, but you're not the only one down here.- He reassured.
-Do you have a...lisp or something? Are you g- Ah! Glitched too?-
Harry shuffled in embarrassment, he knew he was still really clumsy with his comm. unit and Lord Megatron has been very kind not to point that out, but it was a little mean to tease when Harry was just trying to help.
-No. I'm not very good at this yet.- He muttered. -I'll get better, I just need to practice.-
-...How old are you?-
What? -Ten years old I guess.-
Harry jolted when the cries cut out completely, a surge of fear rushed over him. What just happened?
-Er, are you ok-
-Are you for real? Are you really slagging ten? You're really going to lie to me right now?- The slam of aggression and volume sent Harry's breath hitching, why didn't the other like him? What had he done wrong?
-N-no, I'm ten. Honest.- He insisted in an unwillingly wobbly voice.
-Haeree, report.- Harry cringed, he must've made a noise to betray himself to Lord Megatron. It wasn't even that mean, the speed and forcefulness had just caught him off guard.
-I was just talking to the other Cybertronian. He thinks I'm lying is all.- Harry explained grudgingly.
-Holy frag…- The other robot whispered hoarsely, pulling his attention away from Lord Megatron. -You're really a sparkling, aren't you?-
Harry didn't know what that meant. -I'm not lying. I don't know abou-
-Hey, hey, it's okay. Relax, I'm sorry for yelling just now.-
-You what?- Lord Megatron roared.
-My designation is Bumblebee, what's yours?-
Notes:
Bumblebee, strapped to his torture platform: You ever have those days where you're like 'this might as well happen. Adult life is already so god damn weird'.
Chapter 4
Summary:
In which three robots break out of prison without working together even once.
Notes:
Why yes, Bumblebee's audible dialogue is mostly song lyrics and tv audio. And yes, it is supremely obnoxious to write.
Spielberg really made sure that no incarnation of Bumblebee will ever speak like a normal person again.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
-You what?-
-I-I'm sorry. I don't…I didn't mean...-
The sparkling jerked like Megatron had pulled on invisible strings, wide green optics shuttering fearfully up at him.
Don't shout at an anxious sparkling, he coached himself, don't shout at a sparkling. But the black, hazy rage and frustration were so hard to swallow down. All Megatron's plans, all his sacrifices, and Haeree made contact with an unknown Cybertronian that is currently inside the human cave with them, throwing his entire gambit into jeopardy. He'd literally destroyed Cybertronians over lesser offenses.
-Be still…- He began hoarsely, but no matter how he tried, no comforting words could make it past the alarm blaring within his helm.
If he couldn't scream at the sparkling, and he definitely couldn't, then he would just have to take it out on the blasted pile of scraps that made it to Earth before Megatron's finest seekers.
-You.- Megatron growled ferally, zeroing all his pent up rage on the stranger. The briefest of scans reported a definite scout class comm unit, and the odd fluctuations in energy readings and pathetic wailing probably meant he was being kept mobile by the wretched worms armed with liquid nitrogen. He hoped it hurt.
-State your designation.-
The scout's response was lightning fast. -What happened to the sparkling? Are you its creator? What the actual slag?-
Megatron's patience had dwindled centuries ago. If he could, he would've already removed this nuisance before he could become a security risk. -Your designation. Now.-
There was a contemplative pause, one in which Megatron took advantage to check on the sparkling. He was huddled in clear distress but wasn't making an attempt to contact either of them so he would have to stay put until Megatron handled their unwanted guest.
-Fine, whatever. My designation is Bumblebee, my faction is Autobot. Now I want to speak to that little sparkling again.-
An Autobot, Megatron grit his denta. Of course, he was an Autobot, no Decepticon would've allowed themselves to be captured by humans like this wastrel.
-Little one. Don't contact the other Cybertronian- Megatron instructed Haeree shortly, watching the little creature straighten immediately after being addressed. He would have to reassure Haeree that he wasn't angry with it, those ancient caretaker protocols could sputter that much into his processor. But he would do so later, he would not further compromise his charge by ignoring yet another threat in the meantime.
-What happened? Do you not like him?- Haeree warbled cautiously.
-Of course not. He is an Autobot, our enemy.- Megatron said. Silently he was pleased with the sparkling's recovery. There were many reasons to fear him, but none of them were because he'd intentionally damage an infant, and his own charge should trust that.
-Enemy? But he's being nice.-
Megatron scoffed. -Autobots are talentless defects, niceties are the only thing that permits them to justify existence.- He certainly didn't think it was a coincidence that the self-righteous Autobots were filled mostly by second-class citizens and charity cases.
He checked back on the Autobot scout. -Cease contact with the sparkling.- He commanded.
-Why the frag would I stop communicating with a Primus-damned sparkling? Who died and made you boss?- The Autobot demanded harshly, and the ill-hidden pain warping the message was all that kept Megatron from sinking further into senseless violence. He dearly hoped the ice hurt.
-He's hurt too. Bumblebee is stuck just like us.- Haeree whined, unknowingly echoing Megatron's thoughts though he came to a completely different conclusion. That gentle personality matrix rearing its ugly head, no doubt.
Megatron's sparkling was affectionate and sweetly dependent on him for guidance, most likely a survival mechanism to endear it to parental units. Of course, Haeree's disposition was effective and Megatron approved, but it meant introducing more...uncaring concepts would be difficult.
-Yes, but because he's an enemy, he won't help us.- Megatron said.
-Oh. Well, um, what if we ask him? Maybe he'll change his mind. There's nothing to lose, right?- Was Haeree's naive response.
-Ha! An Autobot changing their mind, hm? That's a- Megatron stopped abruptly, an idea forming.
Autobots were always searching for ways to help weaklings and make themselves feel stronger. He was almost certain that Prime would take the humans under his wing as helpless alien pets to defend against Megatron's inevitable justice, that sort of disgusting idealism was rife through all Autobot troops. But a sparkling...a sparkling was the ultimate creature in need of Cybertronian protection, every single one of them, no matter how refigured for war, held an innate need to care for their previously extinct children. If he was careful, if he was focused, then maybe…
-That's an acceptable idea, Haeree. Good work.- He praised, watching as the sparkling beamed like a sun under his praise. Yes, this could go nicely.
-Autobot.- Megatron began. -Remain silent and listen closely and perhaps I won't drain you of every drop of energon in your tubing before feeding you to a black hole.-
-Like hell- The Autobot began angrily, but Megatron used his command class comm unit to transmit directly over the scout's message, a good indicator of just how great the puny Cybertronian was outmatched.
-I am Lord Megatron, leader of the Decepticons. The sparkling is in my possession and will only respond to you if I allow it. So you will communicate with me first, and me alone. Do you understand?-
Megatron continued before the scout had any time to recover. -The sparkling's creators are offlined. These humans captured it and have been experimenting on this sparkling ever since.-
He allowed that sentence to sink in, he needed his words to be heard clearly. The wailing had trailed off again, the scout no doubt struggling to picture the cruelties Megatron alluded to.
-The humans are hostile to the sparkling. It is being held in a tiny glass box with only a scrap of cloth to assist in regulating its core temperature and has been purposefully damaged numerous times during its captivity. Currently, the sparkling is recovering from its last test session, it has only just come off of a recovery stasis.-
Megatron fell silent again, his processors held tightly together and whirring to the point of being audible. His system may crash soon but not before he put things back into his favor, as they should be.
-.No, that's-You're lying.- The Autobot rambled, overwhelmed. Perfect.
-What reason would I have to lie to an inconsequential Autobot lackey? You've already made contact with the sparkling, and it is being held by the same creatures immobilizing you at this very moment.-
That got just the reaction he was aiming for. -They wouldn't! They aren't spraying the sparkling down with this shit, I would know! You're just lying to keep me from the Allspark! There's no way!-
-Lord Megatron? Is he okay?- Haeree warbled, sounding alarmed at the new streak of silence from the tortured Autobot.
-Everything's fine, little one. Wait a moment longer, we're communicating.- He said and went back to the scout.
-If you don't believe me, why don't you ask the sparkling?- Megatron dared. Honestly, Prime should be ashamed at how easily lead his troops were. If one of his Decepticons found out they were speaking to Prime, they would've stopped listening then and there. Of course, none of his Decepticons would ever be in this scout's position, seeing as they would not be captured so easily in the first place and their first objective would've been to rescue the sparkling upon discovery.
-I- what?-
-So long as you include me in your transmission, you may ask whether or not the humans have done what they are doing to you at this very moment. Unfortunately, I didn't record the sparkling's…screams...so you'll have to content yourself with its words alone.- That was a lie. Haeree's cries would never leave his memory banks, but he didn't dare risk complicating his programs further, already stretching himself so far.
-I don't- The Autobot hemmed for a while longer, shrieking bits and burbles echoing through the facilities in an odd rhythm. It was inevitable he caved eventually.
-Hey, you still there, little guy?- Came the strained transmission.
Haeree remained quiet, wings twitching uncomfortably from under its cloth.
-Little one, why don't you respond?- Megatron asked and was immediately faced with round, conflicted optics.
-You said not to...so I don't- What do you want me to do?- It chirruped, cautious.
Megatron felt a growl reverberate in the very depth of his spark, though it would never get out of his frozen frame. He had made a mistake and the sparkling had needed to correct him, the indignity burned like a wound. Megatron had forgotten his command too quickly. He needed to convince the Autobot soon, a crash was definitely imminent.
-I give you permission to respond. Do you notice the difference in the Autobot's transmission compared to my own? It is meant for both of us to transmit and receive data upon the same frequency.- And before he forgot. -Waiting for confirmation before responding was a wise choice.- He praised and enjoyed the excited flutter of the sparkling's wings. He used to think the ever-spastic servos of seekers to be irritating distractions full of pompous and exhibition. But now he was hardpressed to find them anything but charming when fixed to a tiny thing.
-Hello? Sparkling?- The scout called again, a little stronger.
The sparkling remained facing Megatron's profile, staring as though it could pick up cues from his still form. -Yes? Um, sorry for not answering before, sir.- It squeaked back.
-No, no, it's fine.- The scout soothed, probably on an automatic impulse. -And just call me Bumblebee, I'm not an officer or anything.-
-Oh, okay sorry. My na- designation is Harry.-
-Harry, huh? Odd choice for a Cybertronian. Your creators would've liked my unit's lieutenant, he changed his designation to Jazz almost as soon as we touched down.-
Revulsion twisted in Megatron's fuel tank, to actually adopt a human word as a designation...The Autobots have only grown more unstable in the past millennia, it seemed.
-Really? So there are more of you? Do you think they might help us get out?- Haeree burst excitedly, its chatter childish and full of hope. Megatron wished he could've pulled his facial plates into the hungry grin that tugged on his wiring.
-Er, um, slag I don't know. Probably not.- The Autobot admitted.
Megatron watched the disappointment and despair crash onto his charge's unarmored shoulders, anger pressed like a searing clamp around his helm. The scout came with an entire unit that had yet to be discovered, it would've been pathetically easy to defend against captivity and even more so to remove their comrade from the human's clutches. But they wouldn't, not if it meant squishing a single disgusting worm from this horrid planet.
-Why not?- Haeree cried out. -Is it because you're Autobots? But the people here are mean to all of us! Don't they care? Don't you want to leave too? Why won't they- why wouldn't they-
-Haeree, be still.- Megatron rumbled in his softest voice, the sparkling was starting to tremble. He had every intention of using his charge against others, but that would never be at the cost of Haeree's wellbeing. Megatron was the best at whatever he pursued, and the role of caretaker would be no different.
-Even if the Autobots refuse to help, my Decepticon troops would never abandon us. We'll get out soon and these insects won't ever come near you again.-
-Now wait just a fragging second!- The Autobot protested. -The Autobots don't abandon sparklings! They just don't know you're here! If my unit knew what the humans were doing with a sparkling, they'd- they'd…- He trailed off uncertainly, leaving the air uncomfortably open.
-Harry, do you mind if I ask you what these humans have done to you so far? Megatron transmitted something ridiculous and since it's damned Megatron, I'm sure as frack not gonna believe it. So…- The Autobot already knew what Haeree would say, he couldn't be so defected to not catch on to how the humans have responded to their kind thus far.
The sparkling straightened from its little nest, optics flashing. -D-don't say that about Lord Megatron. He's not a liar!- His little one snapped, ferocity roiling just beneath the frightened stutter.
Megatron almost felt warm in his icy prison, surprised by his sparkling's protective response and absolutely smug about it in turn. -Peace, little one.- He murmured, watching Haeree slowly melt back under its covers, shoulders still hunched. -I couldn't care less what Autobot thinks of me, or anyone for that matter.- What were cannon fodder to a lord?
-But he is!- The Autobot yelped indignantly. -He's a fragging- Whatever, we'll talk about it later.- It took the scout long enough to realize there was no way he could turn Haeree away from its sole guardian while said guardian was monitoring their communication, the scrapheap.
-So the humans just found you, right? They didn't...You're fine, right?-
Haeree shifted grudgingly, a suspicious warble ringing from its vocal processors that seemed to go entirely unnoticed by the sparkling. Still, it obediently answered. -The scientists here are really mean. I don't know what I did, though. But they did that awful ice thing to me too, and t-they cut me, and use these big prongs- I don't know if they'll use them on you, but if they do you should try to lay down or something so they don't use them so roughly.- Haeree advised, servos rubbing at what might be a scrape, Megatron couldn't see it clearly from his angle of vision.
-Lord Megatron got frozen solid by them and that looks really, really awful, so hopefully you'll be put in a box like mine.- It seemed to have misinterpreted the question as a request to comfort the newly captured scout. -The box itself isn't that bad, it's just really cold. Hey!- Haeree perked, -Maybe with all three of us here, these scientists will leave us alone for longer? At least until we get out, it would be great if they were too busy to keep coming back. I don't want to do another test.- As if the note of sincere hope wasn't lethal enough, Megatron could only have been prouder of that sly reference to experiments done to Haeree if the sparkling had done it on purpose. The Autobot didn't stand a chance.
-Frag.- The Autobot spat, somehow sounding just as pained as he had when all he had spewed were screams. -Fragging frag. Fine, I'll help.- He caved. -Harry, I'll help you get out. No Primus-damned way I'll leave you to these slaggers.-
Megatron wished he could've taken more time to gloat, but with the euphoria of victory his grip on his overworked processors became even more precarious. He was going to crash and reboot soon.
-I'll accept your assistance, Autobot. Now be quiet, I have other matters to attend to.- He sent hurriedly over the three-way transmission, letting the foul-mouthed scout curse out his frustrations as he personally messaged his sparkling.
-Haeree, a reboot is imminent. While I am preoccupied you are to limit any information shared with the Autobot, refrain from telling him what will happen to me. Remain under your cloth and do not move, you are still recovering.- He rushed out and waited just long enough to catchHaeree's rapid nod before he finally dropped all his programs and let his field of vision crowd itself in black errors.
Harry would've been more stressed about Lord Megatron leaving him again, but Bumblebee served for a welcome distraction.
Though Harry wasn't sure how long it had been since Aunt Petunia had dragged him to the Hoover Dam tour, it had felt like ages since he'd spoken to anyone besides his new guardian. He considered it no small miracle that both Cy-cybertronians also didn't hate him on top of that, a rare attitude that never existed in Surrey for longer than it took Dudley to find them in a playground.
Harry tucked the electric blanket around his neck, covering himself as Lord Megatron had told him too, the snuggly warmth as comforting as the routine. He didn't mind following orders, it was his main interaction with the Dursleys after all, and the praise he got in return made it more than worth the effort.
-on't ignore me! You arrogant defected pile of junk! Fragger! Hey!- Harry tuned back into Bumblebee, task accomplished. He was still shouting all those funny-sounding words that didn't mean anything to Harry. That wasn't new, he had been learning an awful lot about both his new robot body and Megatron over the past few days, but Bumblebee brought it up much more frequently.
-E-Excuse me, Mister Bumblebee? Sorry to interrupt.- Harry broke in timidly, unwilling to direct the strange Autobot's excitement toward himself. -But, um-
-Harry! Frag, sorry! None of that was for you! I should've messaged Megatron separately, I didn't scare you, right?- Bumblebee burst out, his tone falling into a hush that was far less intimidating.
-No, sir. I'm fine. I just wanted to tell you that Lord Megatron can't respond right now, he's busy.- Harry explained.
-Just Bumblebee, little sparkling, remember? I'm just a scout.- Right, Harry scolded himself, he'd forgotten that Bumblebee didn't like that kind of address. He hoped the other wasn't too offended he hadn't remembered. -And what do you mean Megatron can't respond? What could possibly keep him busy while he's frozen solid in this Primus-damned disaster?-
Harry worried the cotton of his dog bed between claws- no, servos. What could he say that wouldn't make Bumblebee angry?
-Er, I'm not allowed to say.- He mumbled lamely.
-What? Did he tell you not to? What the frag could he hide in here?- Then his transmission became strained. -There aren't more of you down here, are there?-
Harry couldn't bite back a giggle, Bumblebee sounded so distraught. -No, no. Just me and Lord Megatron. No one else looks anything like...us, I guess.-
-Oh, thank Primus. I don't know what I could've told Prime if I found more than one down here. I mean even that- holy frag. This will change everything! I mean, I still can't believe it and I'm talking to you!-
Harry frowned, Bumblebee had completely lost him again. It didn't help that he spoke so much faster than Lord Megatron, none of the gravity or deliberation in his delivery. -Can't believe what?-
-You! That there is a fragging sparkling sitting here, on the same planet as me, in the same galaxy as me! I've only heard about you in old stories and slag. I never thought you'd exist again, even if we got the Allspark in my lifetime.-
Harry didn't like where this was going, he felt his wings brush against the blanket as they sank. Even among giant robots was Harry a freak? Would the Dursleys' words always ring true? He dearly hoped not, shrinking into his bed.
-Are sparklings...rare?- Harry asked. He had gathered from how Bumblebee had addressed him that Harry was one of these sparklings, whatever it meant, so he didn't bother to confirm his suspicion. He could ask Lord Megatron about it later if he wanted.
-Are they rare? Has anyone told you about the war? Why do you think we're on Earth?- Harry had no response to Bumblebee's rapid-fire questions. He remained silent, too uncertain to admit his ignorance. Harry wished Lord Megatron would reboot already, he would've explained to Harry everything Bumblebee found lacking.
Thankfully, Harry's prolonged muteness was swallowed up in the other's chatter.
-I was one of the last Cybertronians with enough available energon to graduate to my final frame, so I wasn't really around for the biggest death tolls, but I pretty sure there hasn't been a single successfully sparkling for almost as long as I've been functioning.-
For as long as Bumblebee's been alive, Harry's chest ached. Was this why Bumblebee thought he was a liar before? Was it really so freakish to be a sparkling? Lord Megatron had brought hope that though Harry might've been twisted into something even freakier than before, at least he wouldn't be completely alone. But Bumblebee has dashed it mercilessly in a single blow, ripping to pieces any certainty in his existence.
-Hey, is that noise you? Did I screw up or something?- Bumblebee sounded panicked,
-No! I'm fine!- Harry could barely understand his own transmission, it was so warped. His head was ringing and he knew that stupid shrieking noise was coming from him. But Harry was already freaky enough without losing complete control of himself. He needed to calm down.
-Frag frag frag! What did I do? What did I do? It's okay! I'm sorry!- Bumblebee babbled, but Harry could hardly hear him when he was trying his best to disappear into his dog bed and stop the awful shaking. A freak, again he was a freak. But when even a robot in an underground American laboratory knows it, then there really was no hope of belonging anywhere.
-Look, you gotta calm down! I don't know what happened but I swear you're going to be fine. I'm right here! Megatron will be back, probably! Just please don't cry!-
-I-is it really just me?- Harry couldn't help asking, his ringing sobs sinking deeper into his chest. Would he really be alone for the rest of his life?
Bumblebee took only seconds to respond, but there was no doubting the sincerity in his transmission.
-Hey, hey, there. You're going to be alright. You're the only sparkling in existence, but that's no reason to be scared! It means you're special! One of a kind! And we are gonna love you so much- you'll be absolutely sick of us in no time, I'm sure! I'm talking super clingy, hovering mechs everywhere.-
Harry couldn't hold back a slightly hysterical giggle at that. Just trying to picture someone resembling the massive presence of Lord Megatron fussing over him as Aunt Petunia did with Dudley was absurde. And...it would be nice if Harry could be special instead of strange.
-Yeah, that's it! What's there to cry about when you've got people just dying to meet you? You might be the only sparkling around but you're definitely not gonna be alone anytime soon.-
Harry finally fell silent, Bumblebee's warmth touching him like a ray of sunlight and helped beat back his fears. He was still scared and lost, so very lost. But Bumblebee was right, with Lord Megatron and maybe even this newcomer, he wasn't alone.
-What, were you really worried about being all alone? I promise that's not gonna happen, not a chance. In fact, I don't think I have a single memory byte of being alone for more than a click when I was a sparkling, drove me up the wall!-
-Wait, you were a sparkling too?- Harry asked, confused.
-Was I a- of course! Did you think mechs just popped out of the ground fully armored? We were all sparklings once upon a time, even Megatron. The only difference between you and me is that I'm fully grown, no matter what Ironhide says.-
Harry mulled over this latest news carefully. He was tired and stressed, but this was all so important it made his head spin.
Were sparklings...robot children?
Harry glanced at his still silent protector, how could Megatron ever have been as small as Harry? He was a little skeptical, but it did make sense…
-So one day I'll grow up and be like you?- He guessed tentatively.
-Frag, what did you think would happen? Of course! You've got your whole life ahead of you, little guy!-
Harry let out a deep exhale of relief, slipping back against his dog bed and pulling the blanket over his head. The fear drained from his body like poison in a wound, leaving him weak and flimsy. All he wanted to do was nap and marinate in knowing a place he could belong. He was already so tired from that agility course earlier, maybe Lord Megatron wouldn't mind if he fell asleep before the other reboot?
-Harry?-
-Thanks, Bumblebee.- Harry murmured tiredly, a slow croon falling off his mouth plate like sweet syrup.
-Aw...no problem! You come to me for anything, okay? I got your back.-
-Autobot scum.- Megatron suddenly roared, blasting onto the three-way transmission with a fury that nearly sent Harry tumbling onto the floor.
-What did you do to my sparkling? Report this instant and I might be persuaded to send a portion of your mangled remains to your precious unit after I'm finished with you.-
-What the hell is your problem, you glitch!- Bumblebee sounded just as bewildered as Harry felt.
-Answer me now. How did you cause Haeree distress?- Lord Megatron didn't communicate raised volume in his transmission, but the absolute command was plain to see.
-Wha- you mean the crying thing? It was a Primus-damned misunderstanding! Haeree, will you tell this psychotic scrap heap that you're fine?-
Harry didn't pull himself out of his blanket, much too comfortable. Though it was unreasonable, he also felt as though the extra layer might protect him from Lord Megatron's wrath.
-Um, Lord Megatron, sir?- He began.
Lord Megatron's transmission came from an alternate frequency. -Speak, sparkling. That filthy junkyard reject won't listen. What did he do?-
Harry felt guilty now, it was all his fault Bumblebee was in trouble. He shouldn't have cried like that, and he should've figured out what a sparkling was before then. He curled his servos into balled up fists, he had to be brave and explain his stupid mistake.
-It wasn't Bumblebee's fault. I was just being thick and I freaked out over nothing. Bumblebee was really nice and explained how I was wrong. I'm fine.- Harry said.
-What did you react to, then?- Lord Megatron sounded a little less wild, perhaps because Bumblebee hadn't interrupted their private conversation apart from the audible groans from wherever he was being kept.
-It's dumb.- Harry admitted shamefully. -I didn't know what a sparkling was and thought it was some kind of…- Some kind of what? He hadn't known even as he was crying over it, that sort of behavior would've had him tossed into the cupboard by a horrified Aunt Petunia in a heartbeat.
-Not one of you, I guess. And I got scared of being the only one of anything. But he explained that I'm like you, I'm not alone like that.- It was hard to part with those words, it felt like a gamble. Would Lord Megatron refute Bumblebee's claim? It would be so easy to swat Harry's reality down like a fly.
-Hmph. I'm surprised that Autobot knew even that much.- Lord Megatron sneered. -But if that's all, then I suppose I'll allow him to remain functioning for now.-
-Thank you. Sorry for the trouble.- Harry said meekly and received a wordless grumble.
-Acknowledged. I will continue your education at a greater pace in order to avoid any other misunderstandings, it appears you did not learn all immediately necessary information during our first session.-
Harry felt his face move in what might've been a smile, though it was undetectable under his mouth plate. -Yes, sir.-
-Haeree has vouched for your life, be grateful that I have decided to spare you for the time being.- Lord Megatron announced to Bumblebee over the three-way connection.
-Frag that! I'm in more danger of being bored to death waiting for you to defrost than you actually getting out!- Bumblebee snarled brashly.
Lord Megatron's response was as frigid as his prison. -Be glad I believe you are of use to me now. That privilege won't exist for long.-
Bumblebee didn't reply, and the conversation ended on an odd note.
Harry relaxed in the silence, though he wasn't sure where it came from and deactivated his optics. The fatigue hadn't stopped pulling on him, a welcome fuzzy darkness just waiting to descend.
After a couple of minutes of drifting, Lord Megatron spoke. -Haeree, are you in stasis?- He sounded aggravated. It occurred to Harry that he and Bumblebee might've simply switched to a private line to continue their argument, but he didn't care to pursue the thought.
-Mhmh. Goodnight.- He sighed into the dog bed, heavy and hanging by a thread.
-...Goodnight.-
Megatron watched the tiny Cybertronian slip into stasis intently, noting every shift and twitch until it lay completely still under its cloth. When they freed themselves he would have to produce something similar to Haeree's current nest, it was clear the sparkling favored the thready softness of the bedding.
Satisfied, Megatron shifted back to the scout being tortured a few rooms over. That the loudmouth Autobot was waiting for him to respond was a fantastic indicator of how uncertain he truly was of the situation.
-Your Autobots aren't good enough to get the job done. They'll want to play nice with the humans and then Haeree will be offlined in order to hide the humans' error before the Autobots are allowed an inch underground.- Megatron continued darkly.
-Just because we aren't fragging monsters doesn't mean we're stupid!- The Autobot cried. -My unit leader will believe me, and they'll drop the Allspark search in a nanoclick to rescue Harry!-
-Suppose you manage to convince your comrades that you're not spouting lies out of desperation to be rescued, however unlikely that may be. How do you think they'll get to Haeree? They didn't even risk distressing the humans with their presence to save you, what will they do with human property? - Megatron spat. He was guessing at what had actually happened for the scout to wind up a human experiment, but if it resembled any of the Autobot's other expeditions into alien systems then he couldn't be far off the mark. Prime's rhetoric has seeped deep into the processors of his moronic followers.
-That was different!- He protested, and the smirk failing to shift on Megatron's faceplates was actually beginning to itch. -I let myself be taken for the good of the mission! Retrieving the cube undetected was the most efficient strategy.-
-Don't waste that drivel on me. Even a unit of pathetic Autobots has enough firepower to destroy a human obstacle before it can alert others. You all came to the conclusion that human life is more valuable than Cybertronian, and so you will be assisting Decepticons in our retrieval.- Megatron snapped.
-You don't know anything! You weren't there! Some of those humans were risking their lives to help us, so of course- Never mind, frag! Let me finish! It was different, since Harry is in human...custody...my unit will definitely switch strategies and confront the humans head-on!- So this Autobot's unit has yet to discover that the Allspark is also in 'human custody', where exactly were they searching then? The frozen tip of the planet where Megatron had crashed?
At this rate it was nearly impossible for his Decepticons not to be in the lead.
-Once my Decepticons discover my location, they will destroy this place. They will remove any power supply in the process, freeing us of the blasted ice. I will kill any humans in my way before withdrawing with Haeree. The entire operation will take a breem in estimation. Can you say as much for your comrades?- In truth Megatron knew that his Decepticons' first priority would be retrieving the Allspark, the troops may be completely unaware he was even housed in the same facility. It didn't matter so long as his prediction came true and they submit themselves to his will once more.
-You can't just kill the humans!- Was the scout's immediate and disappointing outburst.
-Why not?- Megatron inquired coolly. -Do you believe they deserve to live after imprisoning me in ice and profiting off my capture for centuries? For torturing you without cause right at this moment? Would you ever spare a Cybertronian for kidnapping, harming, and tormenting a distressed sparkling the way these plagues have done to Haeree?- By his last word, Megatron throbbed with anger, his claws ached deeply to sink into filthy human flesh and tear. He wanted to set the planet's atmosphere on fire and watch it burn.
-Not- The Autobot said. -Not all of them are like that. These humans...aren't good- aren't worth-...Not all of them do these things. Sam wouldn't do these things. He fought for me.-
Megatron mulled over the disjointed retort, the aforementioned torture might be getting to the Autobot's head. Regardless, the turmoil and vulnerability could only help Megatron sway the Autobot to fight for the Decepticons.
-Then you can keep 'Sam' as a pet,- He said carelessly. -Any humans that may be a centimeter above maggots aren't here. This cave is filled with creatures that willingly made Haeree bleed energon and wrote down the results like it was a maintenance check. Sam isn't here.- It was frankly disturbing that a member of his own species could find a single mite living on this planet worthy of affection, but he would endure the revulsion if that's what it took to get his plan back on track.
-Now, do you think your unit will form a better plan than my own? Faster? More efficient? Less risky for the sparkling?- He pushed.
The Autobot didn't respond for the longest time, it was dead air for what felt like a cycle. Megatron wasn't concerned, the humans were doing the work for him, blasting their self-assigned protector full of liquid nitrogen and caging an infant a few hundred feet away.
-...No.- The Autobot finally admitted in a deadened tone. -My unit would...care too much about the humans...Harry would be put in danger.-
-Correct. You will adhere to my plan, then.- It wasn't a question.
-When my Decepticons stage the initial attack, you will be the first to be freed in your current state. Once mobile, destroy as much as you can. But be careful to keep it short range, Haeree is housed nearby. Your objective is to cripple the humans from within, aim for primitive machines and storage to erase salvageable data. Once I am out I will take the sparkling and rejoin my Decepticons. From there you will be given a grace period of half a breem to leave under truce, and that will be the end of it.- Megatron explained concisely.
Millennia ago, he would've taken the opportunity to make a traitor out of the scout, it wouldn't be the first time or the hardest sell. But millennia ago he wasn't trying to claim a sparkling and the Allspark all in one chaotic gamble. Knowing he had weakened an Autobot unit would have to be enough for now. -Do you understand?-
-...Yeah, I got it. Sounds fair, I guess. For a Decepticon.- The Autobot mumbled, sulky and pained all at once.
Megatron shut down his comm unit with a proud snap, settling back into silence. He was deeply appreciative that his task was now nearly complete and communication with an Autobot scout was no longer necessary, he could practically feel his programs slow to match the other's while receiving feedback.
While the Autobot busied itself with his ongoing torture, Megatron followed Haeree's lead and allowed himself to rest for a while, centering himself and preserving his energy for when he needed it most.
It was boring but still better than talking to a mech named Bumblebee.
Megatron jerked back to full alert with the tickle of a Cybertronian scanner against his ped.
Bewildered, he glanced down to find the tiny infiltration specialist Frenzy examining him. He was crouched in the shadow of Megatron's pedestal, gleaming optics the only steady focus among the twitchy, spastic angles of his frame.
Megatron's spark soared, Frenzy was incapable of working alone, which meant there was a coherent team on the planet that chose to employ him. His Decepticons must be closing in and fast. Megatron was getting out.
-This is your leader Lord Megatron, report.- He greeted eagerly, too pleased to even care that his most undetectable troop nearly jumped a foot in the air out of fright.
-M-my Lord Megatron! Hail Lord Megatron!- Frenzy chattered, twisting and twitching away from any humans who passed by. -The Allspark is undetected. Not here. Not here. You're here.-
Megatron was perplexed at this, how could Frenzy not find the Allspark? It was no longer so easy to reach, as the humans had moved it soon after Haeree's arrival, but there was no mistaking the hum of life-giving energy that remained close.
Upon further inspection, the little scrapling was in ragged shape, clearly missing parts and more chipped than not. Perhaps he was incapable of searching? Without proper functions Frenzy could hardly improvise, lacking the processor power and versatility of the other Decepticons. It was worthy of note that he had yet to detect Haeree either.
-The Allspark is still here, I can sense it.- Megatron corrected. Frenzy spluttered confusedly in response.
-No matter, I'll look for it once I'm free. Your main objective is to remove this ice corroding my systems. Who is in your unit?-
-Barricade, Bonecrusher, Blackout, Devastator, Frenzy, Starscream. All enroute.- He reported.
Megatron hummed thoughtfully. Starscream was a black mark on his lineup without a doubt, but mechs like Barricade and Blackout were capable examples of Decepticon prowess. Not the worst to respond to his message, though he could've done better. Hopefully, some of his allies from so long ago yet lived, he would need their support later.
-Instruct the troops to avoid attacking the facility directly and get to work.- Megatron commanded, and it felt good to give an official command again. Like a healing stroke of the Allspark, it soothed him to watch Frenzy scramble to fulfill his orders.
Still, he couldn't get too excited. With Starscream in his new unit and with Soundwave absent, he wouldn't risk announcing the sparklings presence until Haeree was sitting safely in his servos. His Decepticons would never damage a sparkling, but stealing certainly wasn't above his best and brightest.
It wasn't long after Frenzy ducked out of sight that human scum began to swarm his icy prison, shouting and sweating disgustingly close. They knew he was coming loose, he could feel gears that hadn't turned in thousands of years begin to hum harmoniously with his spark. The ice was melting slowly, dripping and slipping off his circuits away from where humans could re-apply manually. It was almost time. Megatron felt a giddiness that he hadn't experienced since finding the cube's location on this planet so many cycles ago, it was maddening in a wholly different way from his deep freeze.
It was almost time.
"They didn't hurt you right?" Sam asked, reeking of fear and stress, but concerned nonetheless.
Bumblebee straightened from the fragging nightmare of a torture-pedestal and slammed his mask down. Sam was different, Mikaela was different, kind and compassionate. The others, however…
He activated his cannon, the heaviest of his artillery, and aimed for the fleshy humans in black. The ones that belonged to this hellish facility, absolute monstrous scum. They stank of fear too, but there was nothing to temper it, not one of the soldiers dropped their weapons as per their orders.
"Listen to me, the cube is here and the Decepticons are coming," Sam warned, not making any move to avoid crossfire if Bumblebee shot. Did he honestly believe Bumblebee wouldn't attack?
Then his words connected, the slagging Allspark was there too? Did these people even understand that they held Cybertron's spark in their grasp?
Bumblebee wobbled back onto his peds, every inch of him hurt, right down to his tubing. His vocal processor throbbed a heady beat below his helm, a dangerous reminder of how much damage he had accumulated just screaming during the past cycle.
It wasn't a conscious decision to hike the power-up in his cannon, but he didn't diminish it either.
"No, no, don't worry about them. They're okay. Right?" It was almost amusing to see his little human sent a fierce glare at the others as if he could threaten the agents into submission. "They're not gonna hurt you."
Destroy the facility from the inside, that was what Megatron had told him to do in return for his release. It made sense, it would keep the humans from benefitting off whatever slag they had committed against Harry during its capture.
It...hadn't been easy to agree, but now it was even harder with Sam's trusting optics squarely on his own.
Bumblebee had to make a choice.
"Just back up a little bit. He's friendly. He's fine. Okay, come on. Put the guns down. They're not gonna hurt you." Sam continued, exuding peace at an intensity Megatron matched in chaos.
Both wanted him to do something, both were right to want it. This horrible place needed to be wiped off the fragging universe, but was an Autobot scout the one to do it?
Sam extended a tiny, soft servo up to him, up to the cannon burning like a star at his side. "Come on, I'm gonna take you to the Allspark." He promised.
Bumblebee shuttered his optics for a long moment and deactivated his cannon. He couldn't kill the humans, not like that. But that wasn't the only thing he set out to do upon his escape.
In one fluid motion, he snatched up both Sam and Mikaela, away from the villains still clutching their guns. His humans shrieked, clinging to his digits and scrambling for purchase. Bumblebee tightened his grip to the slightest degree and looked down at their pale, flesh faces.
"There's something happening here.~"
Then he took off, transforming into his alt-form to speed past the floundering soldiers and agents with his humans safe in the backseat.
"What just happened? What is it? What happened? The cube isn't this way!" Sam protested, throwing himself against the right window, which faced a long hallway to where the Allspark must be. But that wasn't his destination.
Sam came back for him, Bumblebee was freed ahead of schedule and before the Decepticons arrived and he needed to use every nanoclick to his advantage.
"Trapped it a box-/Breaking News: Missing woman found after having been kidnapped five y- /I think we have an emergency!~"
"Slow down, slow down!" Sam protested, breath picking up in tempo as Bumblebee barely missed a scientist in a swerve. He didn't know where exactly he was going, but he could guess from the equipment coming into view.
"Did they take something from you? Is it in storage?" Mikaela guessed.
Bumblebee didn't respond, picking up speed to squeal down hallways on hairpin turns in order to lose the tag along humans still chasing after them. None of them had taken a shot yet, so he ignored them otherwise.
Megatron had told him it was nearby…
"Why are we going back to Megatron?" Sam demanded, leaning hard against his car seat. "The Decepticons are coming, Bee, we gotta get out of here!"
"There's something there that wasn't there before!~" Bumblebee blared, skidding into a hangar with a vaulted ceiling and a spark-jolting amount of ice.
Both his humans quieted when Megatron came into view, even bigger than he remembered and just as menacing. A quick scan told him the evil mech was warming up and fast, the Decepticons must already be in the facility. He needed to get out of there as soon as possible, he could practically feel every second lost like a weight added to his back.
Bumblebee wheeled past the Decepticon leader, peering deeper into the warehouse.
There!
-What do you think you're doing here? I told you to leave, you glitch!- Megatron growled over Bumblebee's comm unit, a little odd now that they were face-to-face. He could swear Megatron's frozen optics brightened menacingly with his words.
Bumblebee transformed, carefully cradling Mikaela and Sam during the more awkward jostles since he didn't dare stop moving, not with his goal so perfectly lined up in his viewfinder.
A glass box to the right of Megatron, easy to miss among the heavy equipment and the colossal overlord himself, just as it had been described to him. He sprinted over and peered inside.
-Autobot, back away from my sparkling this instant.- Megatron gravelly pitch darkened further, promising the brutality he was infamous for.
-An Autobot will never take orders from a Decepticon!- Bumblebee roared, screwing up all of his bravery for this do-or-die, breathlessly foolhardy endeavor. -Especially one defected enough to think I'd allow a sparkling to go with the likes of you!- He muted the link immediately afterward, he didn't have time for all the things he wanted to say to the slagger.
An orange scrap of cloth in the corner of the cage shifted as he reached it, minuscule silver servos darting out to tug the cover down. -I don't- what? W-what are you- Harry's little lisp stammered in his helm.
"W-what the hell is that thing?" Sam shrieked, backing up in the flat of Bumblebee's servos until he was a little too close to the edge, Mikaela not far behind. Bumblebee curled his hand a fraction tighter to keep a good grip on his humans.
"Tonight there's gonna be a jailbreak!/Come with me if you want to live." Bumblebee urged, reaching out with his free limb to pry the box open without shattering it all over the sparkling.
-Wait, no- stop! What about Lord Megatron? He's still frozen! Don't leave him!- Harry only grew more panicked, no doubt warned by Megatron of Bumblebee's betrayal. -Wait no!-
Bumblebee's spark ached to see the little bot shrinking away from his touch, but it was for Harry's own good. No sparkling should be with the pack of lawless murderers that Megatron called soldiers, their cruelty would snuff the creature out in a click. Hopefully, Harry would understand once he was away from Megatron's influence.
"Oh my God, what's that sound? Is it dying?" Mikaela hissed fearfully, the warbly ring of distress Harry was giving probably a frequency above human comfort.
-Harry, don't be scared. You're gonna be fine, okay? No one's going to hurt you anymore.- Bumblebee murmured, lifting the box and scooping the little sparkling, blanket and all, into his spare servo. A lot of the older Autobots were designed with specific chambers to hold sparklings safely, but this would have to do since they were obsolete by the time he was at the correct stage for modification, and therefore didn't have one.
-Let me go! Please! I want to stay with Lord Megatron! Please!- Harry cried, squirming in his grip and scratching whatever it could catch. It was a little ticklish, but nowhere near sharp enough to scratch his paint.
Bumblebee made shushing sounds, running a digit down Harry's thin back in hopes of calming the infant. He knew there were legitimate programs that creators once used, but all he had were awkward comforting tactics appropriate between soldiers. The scratching ceased, but Harry didn't stop struggling away from the contact.
"We're taking it with us?" Sam yelped incredulously.
"Who cares? We have to get out of here now!" Mikaela shouted, a new wave of fear wafting from her alien skin. It didn't take a command-class bot to see what was freaking her out, Bumblebee could hear the ice cracking off Megatron too.
Bumblebee took a step forward and crushed the box into tiny splinters, grinding it into dust on the cement. It wasn't nearly enough, but he didn't dare touch a computer when even one could be controlling Megatron's frozen state.
He spun on a ped and sprinted into his transformation, cracking the cement on impact and rattling his charges.
-No! No! Go back! Megatron!-
Sam and Mikaela immediately threw themselves into the front seat and away from Harry, who was still wrapped up in the orange electric blanket. Why electric? Had that been part of some bizarre test? Bumblebee shook himself from distraction- Megatron was melting, the Decepticons had infiltrated the building, and he still needed to get to the cube. Where was his unit right now?
"There! The cube is down there!" Sam pointed to a right corridor, even with all the unexplained and frightening crap Bumblebee was putting them through, his charge was still so willing to help. No matter what he felt for the garbage working underground, he was never more sure of his decision to fight for humanity, not when Sam was in their ranks.
Speaking of garbage, when he sped deeper into the facility, past the populated hangars, and into the deeper storage, he found the humans he had ditched on his way to find Harry. They had gathered around what was unmistakably the Allspark.
Big, even for Cybertronians, grand and absolutely ancient, the relic so many of his brothers had died for sat right before him.
Bumblebee's optics swept across the engraved sigils, the golden gleam it held even under fluorescents, the barest of memories he still held of seeing it for the first time swam to the forefront of his processor. He had been just as awed then, too.
Harry whimpered, a shaking servo rising to press against its softly glowing spark. -The cube…-
Bumblebee shook himself from his stunned reverie to check on the little sparkling. -Hey, you okay?-
-I didn't think I would see it again.- Was Harry's cryptic response.
"Bee!" Sam's voice was so strained it sounded close to breaking. "We need to get out of here, yesterday! Did they actually hurt you before? Why aren't you moving!"
"Hurry it up! Do you get how many laws I'm breaking with every passing second?" An older agent echoed Sam, shuffling nervously before the cube. "This thing isn't safe to be around."
Bumblebee hastily threw his front doors open for Sam and Mikaela to get out before shifted back to his bipedal form, Harry back in his fist.
"Why does he have the NBEP-00? You said he just needed the cube!" Another agent demanded, everyone else taking a step back upon spying the addition. Bumblebee pinned the human with a glowing glare, a rumbling growl in his chest. These horrible humans actually thought Harry belonged to them, just as Megatron had said. This place needed to be wiped off the face of the Earth. If his humans hadn't been there, Bumblebee can't say he wouldn't step on the humans looking so angry they couldn't hurt Harry anymore.
The agents took a step back as one, the shiny sweat on their bodies increasing copiously.
"He just took it, I don't think it's a Decepticon." Mikaela shrugged.
"It's a crucially important test subject, you're stealing government property ." Agent Simmons said.
Bumblebee revved his engine to a deafening level, making optic-contact with that human in particular. Very deliberately, while he watched in fearful silence, Bumblebee let his battle mask slide over his faceplates. He was not playing around now, not with a sparkling.
Simmons didn't speak again.
Harry didn't struggle this time, obviously recognizing the uniforms below and apparently preferring Bumblebee's capture to their own. That was progress, right?
Bumblebee approached the cube and trailed a servo across its cool exterior, feeling for the pulse of godlike warmth beneath.
-Careful!- Harry trilled in alarm, but nothing happened. Nothing at all.
Bumblebee reared back, the cube felt...powerless, dead. Where was the rhythm of power that vibrated so subtly alongside his own spark? The unique signature of utter potential that sent everyone pouring into the limitless sky to recover it?
"Simmons said it hasn't been working right for almost a week," Sam explained, reading Bumblebee's expression. "But we can figure out why later, okay? If we don't get out in, like, ten seconds Megatron is gonna-" A distant crash shook the ceiling and Bumblebee knew his time was up.
Sam was right, he would problem solve later, right now he just needed to make sure later existed for him.
He dialed the prehistoric commands that were thankfully ingrained in his programming, for he would never have memorized it otherwise, shifting the cube down to a more manageable size. Harry trembled but remained completely silent, his spark-beat thrumming so hard Bumblebee could feel against his wiring.
Tucking it under his arm, Bumblebee looked down at the humans. He didn't like how close Sam and Mikaela, hell, even the soldiers, were to the scrapheap agents. What other lows were they capable of if damaging a child wasn't worth a single ounce of contrition?
"Message from Starfleet, Captain./Let's get to it."
"He's right. We stay here, we're screwed with Megatron in the other hangar. Mission City is twenty-two miles away. We're gonna sneak that cube out of here and we're gonna hide it somewhere in the city." The leading soldier planned frantically.
Bumblebee didn't like where the plan was headed, but there was no time to argue. He transformed back to his alt-mode and let Sam and Mikaela reluctantly climb into the same cab as Harry. They didn't look like they would hurt each other or anything, both Harry and his humans were equally terrified of each other, so Bumblebee prioritized.
He pulled out with the military escort, praying for all he was worth that, Primus willing, Optimus Prime and the others would be waiting for him in Mission City. The pressure of carrying the two sole stars of hope for his entire species was a force sending him into hysteria.
As it was, he could only watch the facility shrink behind him, woefully intact. The quieting shudders under tire told him it wouldn't be for long, but he dearly wished every inch of it crumbled. Maybe after all of this was over Bumblebee could return and char the rubble, it would make for good therapy after the utter shit he went through in there.
"So, um, are you a friend of Bumblebee's?" Sam asked Harry tentatively, the tension dropping a bit as they flew further and further from Megatron and his goons.
Harry chirped noisily, a wordless chatter Bumblebee had never heard. Was that normal for sparklings?
"Oh, you can't speak either?" Mikaela asked sympathetically, and Harry actually gave an answering croon.
"Can you talk through the radio like Bumblebee?" Sam shifted from the front seat to stare at Harry. Bumblebee listened for the response, for he didn't know either.
Harry shook his helm and made another sad sound.
"Well, maybe Ratchet can fix you? He's helping Bumblebee, right?"
Bumblebee winced, the medic would be furious at the damage he'd taken while being tortured. At this rate, there was a real possibility that the Autobots wouldn't have the resources to fix his injury.
-Please, take me back to Megatron.- Harry begged softly, he sounded resigned. Bumblebee wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not, he really had no idea what Cybertronian children were like, for all that he had once been one himself.
-Harry, I know you don't understand right now, but Megatron is bad news. He's pure evil! I'm going to take you someplace safe.-
"Can you tell us your name?" Mikaela asked next, oblivious to their conversation.
"And before we forget, today was Harry Houdini's birthday! So there some random trivi-/Harry Styles was spotted at the park today-/-na's nephew, Prince Harry of Wales-." Bumblebee scanned helpfully.
"Harry? That's a...huh. Okay." Neither of Bumblebee's humans seemed to know how to react to such a human name on an alien. He supposed he understood.
-I h-hate you.- Harry choked out and then fell silent.
He supposed he understood that too.
Notes:
Megatron, doing that anime glasses villain shine thing: Truly my manipulative genius impresses even myself. The world is my chessboard and you are all pawns moving toward my ultimate scheme-
Bumblebee, Harry in one fist and Sam in the other like barbie dolls: Uno!
Chapter 5
Summary:
The worst custody battle ever recorded.
Notes:
I can proudly say that four years ago I crafted a scene out of Real Housewives with masterful accuracy.
The tears, the drama, the unhinged screaming...
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Megatron stood above the wretched, primitive dam, his decacycles-long prison. It was smoking and crumbled, the entire quarter that dared hold him now lay in irreparable waste.
He could hear humans scurrying about underneath his peds even now, swarming like an upturned anthill. It wasn't worth the effort of blasting the rest away, though.
Instead, he stood, planted on the northern roof with optics steady on the horizon. Finally, he was free and powerful in all the ways that were his right.
He'd dreamed of this moment, ached for it with every fiber of his being. The fluid flow of thought and logic that made up his processors should've been euphoric in and of itself, never mind the ability to rip foes apart with his clawed servos. What power he had, it was enough to revel in after so many years without.
But he could hardly bring himself to care, even the delicious screams of the humans had barely registered over the pulsating rage that his spark personified.
That fragger took his sparkling.
The roar of jets alerted him to Starscream's approach, the only Decepticon willing to address him before he allowed them to. His insufferable disrespect was still in working order even a millennium later, how pathetic.
Megatron didn't bother to glance at his arrogant second-in-command, still watching the glinting city on the other side of the winding road.
"I live to serve you, my Lord." Starscream groveled in way of greeting. Megatron smashed his theatrically bowed helm into the dam a moment later.
"Where is the Cube?" Megatron snarled impatiently, finally turning to see his subordinate wobble back upright. Starscream was slower than he remembered and covered in dull scratches. That didn't bode well for the rest of his army if even a slacker suffered from the endless search for the Allspark.
"The humans have taken it!" He spat back, ages-old hatred rekindling in those narrowed red optics.
Megatron turned away, back to his original position. He watched a long stretch of human road trail away from the dam and to the human establishment on the horizon, the only location of note for miles.
He had been staring for a while now, a ridiculous part of him watching for even a glimpse of Haeree, for he was sure that's where it was taken.
Megatron felt his rage slip a little, dipping into a hatred that held far more resentment than he was accustomed to. So that slimy Autobot had not only stolen Haeree, but the Allspark as well. In just scant clicks, Megatron had gone from being frozen and holding all the cards, to being thawed and fragging empty-handed. It was nearly as maddening as the ice.
"My Lord? The humans were seen going to that city. We should-"
Megatron silenced him with a merciless kick, almost sending him careening off the dam. "You think I don't know that?" He shouted, his blaster aching to fire into Starscream's useless faceplate.
"O-of course, my Lord. I was just- just merely suggesting that perhaps we could attack them?" The seeker stammered.
Megatron's optics were suddenly filled with the illusion of clutching that Autobot scout's decapitated head, low-grade energon spilled across his greaves. His idiotic false wings ripped clean off, and his barbaric vocal processor crushed to fine dust. He could almost smell the shorting circuits in the oxygen soaked air.
There was nothing he wouldn't give to get that vermin under his ped, nothing he wouldn't give save for Haeree's safety.
"No. We regroup." He ground out, focusing back on that city. Haeree was there, trapped in yet another prison and waiting for his rescue. That faith would never be in vain, Megatron failed at nothing.
"Regroup?" Starscream squawked. "But the Autobots are all in one place, this is the perfect time to retrieve the-"
This time, he did send Starscream off the dam, already turning around before the seeker remembered he had blasted wings and caught himself.
"Do not question me! Gather the others and follow me. The Autobots won't live to see Cybertron, but their demise will be another cycle."
Megatron may not be able to send the full-frontal assault he craved without putting Haeree in the center of a warzone, but he would make the Autobots regret the day they took from Megatron. They would remember the day they made Haeree cry as the beginning of the end.
He swore by his very spark that when he was through, he would have everything. It was only what he deserved.
Harry watched the world whip past him from the cab of the yellow car Bumblebee transformed into, expansive desert roads shifted to crowded city streets before his optics.
Further and further away from the underground lab and horrible scientists. Further away from Lord Megatron.
Harry didn't think he would mourn that distance in all his fantasies of escape, but now it felt like every inch was dragging him deeper underwater, downward into cold darkness that hadn't been present in the lab.
He had only known Lord Megatron for a short amount of time, and he could admit the other was very scary, but Harry already missed him fiercely. He missed Lord Megatron's kindness, the only one Harry had ever known to be specifically for him.
He wasn't kind in the traditional sense, no gentle smiles or easy compliments. But in a bizarre way, the machine of danger and death felt so safe because it was for Harry. He'd never experienced anything like it before.
He wondered if this was why Dudley hardly ever looked concerned when Uncle Vernon was in a rage. Harry was flatly terrified of the way his uncle's face turned red and his fists clenched, he'd once thought his cousin very stupid for not feeling the same way. But if it was because of this, a strange confidence that the monster was meant for everyone but him, Harry could almost understand the lack of alarm.
Almost. Lord Megatron was nothing like Uncle Vernon, so much smarter and sharper it wasn't even worth the comparison. If Dudley held a certainty that his father would never turn his fists on him, then Harry had a growing belief that he would only ever truly be protected in Lord Megatron's presence.
"Um, Bee I think Major Lennox wants us to follow them." The older boy sitting in the front seat said loudly, head craned to watch a half-dozen military trucks turn onto a different street.
Harry went back to his window, optics turned toward the sky. Maybe he could fly away? Lord Megatron told him not to try, but it seemed so much nicer up there than in the cab of the horrible Autobot who took him. He tuned out whatever Bumblebee said through his weird radio-speak, he didn't want to know. He didn't want to be there, he didn't want to hear or see anything that was related to his newest captor.
Harry crushed himself against the glass of the window, too close to Bumblebee, but not far enough from the cube one of the human passengers buckled into place right next to him. It wasn't incomprehensibly huge anymore, nor as grand. The hot pulse of conscious power that had turned Harry into a robot wasn't there either, in fact, Harry was pretty sure it was somewhere inside him now.
But he wasn't going to think about that right then. He was going to face the sky and pretend he was anywhere else, anyone else.
Time passed in a jumbled slide of raised voices, radio static, and revving engines. The sun was beginning its descent by the time Bumblebee slowed to a halt.
They were on the other side of the city, on the outskirts of the desert again, but the roads and buildings were deserted. The military was also parked around the edges, barking into walkie-talkies and constantly casting glances across the perimeter like they were expecting to be attacked.
But that didn't catch Harry's attention immediately, the four vehicles conspicuously missing drivers rolling right up to Bumblebee stole his focus. The insignias decorating each vehicle matched Bumblebee's perfectly. Without a doubt, these were the members of Bumblebee's Autobot unit.
Lord Megatron has said Cybertronians held the capability to mimic things, but it was still utterly bizarre to see a fancy silver car twist into a giant alien robot with the ease of shrugging off a coat. The two trucks and semi followed suit, until a blue and red robot the same size as the hulking Lord Megatron and a silver robot the same height as Bumblebee- whom Harry was beginning to realize was short- stood imposingly before him, with a black robot with glinting guns and a yellow, boxier looking robot taking up the rear.
"Glad to see those humans didn't mess you up too badly." The black Cybertronian noted in a gravelly British accent. Harry fought off the flicker of grudging happiness at the soothing nostalgia of Surrey, he didn't like these robots.
"Bumblebee, what was so important that you couldn't tell us over the comm? We need to be preparing for Megatron's attack, where's the cube?" The big blue and red one said quickly, bright electric blue optics heavy on Bumblebee and by proxy, his cab's occupants.
The two American teenagers climbed out of Bumblebee as if on cue and quietly greeted all the Autobots.
It was confusing, humans liked Cybertronians? Why was the American military helping anyways? Was it only that scientists that hated them all so much?
"Brace yourselves!/-unlike anything you've ever seen before!" Bumblebee blared and transformed with Harry and the cube still inside.
Harry curled into a ball, but he wasn't pinched or crushed. With the roll of a trillion clicking components, he was deposited into the palm of one giant hand while the cube landed in the other.
All the Autobots shifted, straightening and gravitating towards the cube. The largest reached out a slow servo and Bumblebee quietly handed it over.
They only had half a second to inspect the cube on their own before Bumblebee brought Harry forward too, toward the strange robots.
"You're gonna want to see this." He alerted the red and blue one, who glanced up distractedly only for piercing blue optics to zero in on Harry with pinpoint accuracy.
Harry felt his wings shiver as he tucked himself even tighter, there was nowhere to hide from that gaze on Bumblebee's servo and one quick peek to the asphalt below told him jumping wasn't an option either.
"...What is this?"
"Bee found him next to Megatron at the dam." The teenaged boy explained.
"I think he's broken though, he can't speak." The girl followed up, and now all the Autobots had peeled themselves away from the cube to stare at Harry.
The biggest one reached forward again in the same careful movement he'd used to receive the cube. His servo was even bigger than Bumblebee's, Harry was barely the size of a single digit and its ginormous shadow blotted out the afternoon sun.
Harry gave a shriek, fear bubbling up in his throat as he scrambled away, almost falling right off Bumblebee's palm if it weren't for his captor's quick reflexes, closing his hand around Harry and tucking him to his chest, away from the giant strangers.
There was absolute silence in the wide circle of military escorts, Harry hid away, tucking himself against Bumblebee. He hated Bumblebee, he was so mean and took Harry away from Lord Megatron. But he was also the smallest and probably wouldn't hurt him, and Harry had to take what he could get.
"What. The. Frag." One of them deadpanned, and Harry slammed his optics off.
"Is it some sort of protoform?" Another asked quietly.
"Protoforms can't make those frequencies." It sounded like it was the blue and red one who answered. His deep voice seemed uneasy.
"Rock-a-bye baby, on the treetop!" Bumblebee sang, and Harry was pulled away from him and back out toward the largest Cybertronian. He couldn't wriggle free, Bumblebee kept his fist closed around him. Fear throbbed at a painful beat inside him as he was suspended over a dozen feet in the air, held out in offering to a towering Cybertronian.
"Impossible." The other yellow one said flatly, eyeing Harry with what might have been distrust. "Bumblebee, give the...protoform over to Prime so I can scan you over, the humans must have damaged something major."
Bumblebee shook his head and lifted Harry higher into the air, at optic-level with the red and blue Cybertronian.
-I'm fine, Ratchet! I swear, I'm telling the truth. This is Harry. I found it in the lab next to where the humans kept Megatron. It's the real fragging deal.- Bumblebee transmitted, it was a broad signal that Harry suspected encompassed all Cybertronians there.
Harry remained silent, he didn't dare make a sound as he watched the red and blue one, far too close for comfort.
"How would you even know? You haven't even seen one besides yourself!" The English-accented one scoffed aloud.
"Seen what? Is that Autobot special?" The teenaged boy down below asked.
"This isn't an Autobot." The red and blue one corrected absently, still staring at Harry with unnerving focus. "It's not a Decepticon either."
"Just because it's not marked as a Decepticon doesn't mean it isn't one. This could be a trap." The English one said, but the red and blue one pulled his facial plates into a confused frown.
"No, I don't think so...Look closely. It hardly has any armor and barely any of it is scratched. It looks too young to…" Suddenly, that huge servo came back out and plucked Harry from Bumblebee's grip.
"Ratchet, can you scan-"
Harry keened in fright, lurching with the momentum of the Cybertronian's movement. In a blind panic, he lashed out. Harry dug his claws in and hunkered low to avoid being thrown clean off. He wanted Lord Megatron so badly, he was so scared. What were they going to do to him?
-Harry, calm down. Optimus won't hurt you.- Bumblebee urged, but Harry couldn't bite back his shuddering whines. They were so much bigger than him, and they kept grabbing him and somewhere in the fray, he'd lost his blanket. He was cold and aching and tired and there was nowhere to hide.
All throughout his panic attack, every Autobot besides Bumblebee had frozen so abruptly they looked like off-balance statues.
Then, the English one let out a deep croon. A rumble that buzzed in Harry's chest plate and held a soothing promise of safety. Harry felt his servos unclench on their own as he shifted to glance at the black robot.
"Ironhide, what the hell are you-" The small silver one began.
"Shut up, it's gonna crash if it doesn't calm down soon." The English one -Ironhide?- snapped back before returning to the purring note that sounded a bit like something Lord Megatron did when Harry started to cry. Was this one like Lord Megatron, then? Even the reminder quieted his whimpers.
"Ratchet," The red and blue one that still clutched him high in the air said quietly. "Scan it now."
"P-Prime, this is ridiculous." The boxy yellow one stammered. "There aren't any left. There's no way. No way." He sounded upset.
Harry deactivated his optics and returned back to curling into a ball. He couldn't get away from them and they could hurt him with the easiest touch, he wanted to go back to Lord Megatron. The cold and stress made him feel like he weighed a thousand pounds, it was a terrible sort of exhaustion. Ironhide racketed up the noise until it sounded like the gentlest, warmest motor hum he'd ever heard.
"That wasn't a request." The red and blue one's pointer digit began to run down Harry's helm, stroking down to the center of his wings before running back up to apply soft pressure to the back of his neck.
Harry flinched under the initial contact, shriek bubbling behind his mouth plate, but it didn't last. Though the finger was metallic, it was warm. It felt like the other was rubbing a special sequence into Harry, one that loosened his joints and made his wings droop.
The boxy one, maybe named Ratchet, hesitated for a moment longer. Harry activated his optics to find him staring, servos clenched and faceplate furrowed with pain. Harry would've shrunk back from the expression, but the red and blue one's administrations kept him pressed against his palm.
Finally, Ratchet's right servo clicked and switched until it had become some sort of cylinder with a point in the center, and he aimed it at Harry.
Before Harry could jerk away, a beam of light shot out from the point and struck him square in the chest plate. It wasn't solid, but it felt heavy and hot and climbed inside him with a ticklish physicality.
He squirmed, wishing with all his spark that they would leave him alone soon.
The beam stayed steady as it reached his head, and he could feel it rifling through things with terrifying power. Harry wrenched away from the blue and red one's petting and gave a frustratingly futile kick. It didn't even leave a scratch.
"Steady." The red and blue one hushed, as if he were some dangerous animal that needed penning. Harry gave another kick, hiding a wince as his ped crashed against the nigh-indestructible Autobot.
The beam cut off and Ratchet typed furiously at a series of screens and buttons decorating a plate on his greaves. Not once did he look in Harry's direction, hunched over his arm as he was.
"So, is he like, sick?" The human girl guessed quietly, the only noise besides Ratchet's tapping. It remained unanswered, no one even glanced in her direction, everyone boring holes into Ratchet instead.
"What's the verdict, man?" The silver one prompted after another long pause.
Ratchet still hadn't looked up, clicking away on the device on his wrist.
"What's taking so long?" Ironhide said, hum dropping off. Harry shivered at the loss.
Ratchet still didn't react, completely focused on the thousand moving symbols flicking in and out of the screen.
"Ratchet." The blue and red one rumbled.
"No, this is wrong- give me more time- I need to-" He mumbled feverishly, hunching further over his screen. Harry blinked, Ratchet's servos were trembling. What was making him so upset?
"It's okay, just tell us what you found." The other coaxed.
"No! Something's not- this is wrong. It can't-" Ratchet was shaking his head now too, his digits were almost missing his gauntlet with each swipe, he was so out of sorts. Harry pulled his knees up to his chest plate, his only form of protection in case Ratchet tried to attack him.
"Ratch-" The silver one began, arm outstretched toward the yellow Autobot.
"No!" Ratchet shouted, launched away. "They're dead! I-I saw them and- and they were destroyed! This is a trick! There's no way. I tried but- they're gone!"
The rise in volume set more than a few people on edge, many of the military escorts were tensing and leaning a little closer, both human teenagers had retreated to behind Bumblebee for protection. Harry barely noticed the others, though, he was too busy scrambling to get away.
Ratchet was getting louder and wilder and Harry knew these signs from Uncle Vernon. He needed to run away, put any distance at all between the volatile robot and himself.
The red and blue one shifted, placing a thumb against his chest plate and effectively pinning him to the Autobot's hand. Harry hadn't even managed to get out of his palm.
He didn't realize he was shaking until the rattle of metal against metal hit his audio receptors, and even then there was nothing to quell his terror when the red and blue one actually extended Harry toward Ratchet.
Harry broke into near-hysterical whimpers, scratching to get away before he was killed or crushed or whatever Ratchet planned on doing. He wanted Lord Megatron like a physical pain, why were these robots going to hurt him? Didn't Bumblebee say his team would like him? Was this another lie? Harry could hardly think straight, staring in horror as Ratchet's boxy form lurched much closer into view.
"Ratchet, look."
Ratchet stumbled, swinging his face forward, optics wild and darting right up until they made contact with Harry's. Then, Ratchet jerked as if electrocuted, straightening almost too fast to track.
Harry stilled as well, cries lodged in his throat. From his horrible proximity and height, he had a clear view of the other's faceplates. And up close, Ratchet didn't look angry at all- no furrowed brow or sneering denta.
Instead, he looked devastatingly sad.
If Harry wasn't so petrified by the Autobot, he might've asked what was wrong, he looked like he could cry at any second. Like he was crying, but the tears hadn't dropped yet.
Slowly, optics never leaving Harry, the faceplates shifted. Something close to wonder and fear cleared the sorrow away, still confusing, but not nearly as awful as anger.
In a dizzying rush of movement, Ratchet surged forward with feline precision. Harry blinked, and from one second to the next he had been captured and reeled in at sickening speeds. Harry barely had time to squeal before warm, blessedly warm digits began running up his spine and rubbing down his abdominal plating.
Despite himself, Harry uncurled and allowed Ratchet's heated hand to massage his entire body in smooth circular motions that sharply contrasted his earlier shakiness. Harry's own panicky quivering died a quick death under firm hands.
Harry had never felt so pliable before, forcefully melted by heat but unwilling to protest the handling. His wings twitched and shivered with each brush against Ratchet's servo, feeling more sensitive than before, but not to the point of discomfort. Instead, he felt like he was being washed away by the soothing ministrations. His fear hadn't disappeared, but it was harder to reach the further he fell away.
Harry peered up at Ratchet, whose face had come even closer now that he was in the Autobot's grasp.
Ratchet was still watching him, though his expression had changed again. Harry couldn't place the look, but it seemed darker somehow than the simple fear from before. More intense and twisted, and yet completely devoid of ill intent.
His mouth was moving, shaping into precise, humming frequencies and growly murmurs. It didn't have any rhythm that Harry could identify, but it felt like a lullaby.
"Frag...so it's true? This is…" The silver one whispered, leaning in just close enough to peek out from the edge of Harry's vision. Harry leaned away, but Ratchet somehow made his wonderful servos grow even warmer and promptly turned his pistons to jello.
"Yes." Ratchet ground out, part sob part prayer. "He's a sparkling."
Bumblebee let out a wordless cheer, but it was barely audible over the grating chokes of the others. It sounded as though they'd been struck.
"He doesn't look that shiny to me…" The teenaged boy mumbled from the ground.
Just as they had with the Allspark, but much slower, the Autobots huddled around Harry. None reached out to touch, but he could see their fisted servos and wide optics and knew what they wanted.
"Sam, a sparkling is a Cybertronian in its earliest stage. Something so fragile we were unable to protect more than a handful across the entire war." The red and blue one spoke gravely.
"You said he is a mech?"
Ratchet, whether consciously or not, leaned away from his comrades, pulling Harry to rest against his chest plate. Harry didn't mind, for the yellow bot's chest was nearly as warm as his hand. "Yes. I did a complete scan. He's only a few deca-cycles old, ten at most. There's also-"
"How in the glitching hell, did a sparkling remain completely undetected for ten deca-cycles? How did it get on this planet of all places? Where are his parental units? Why is a damned sparkling alone?" Ironhide burst forth, breaking the circle of Autobots to stand in front of Ratchet as though he could know any of those things.
-I found him in the human lab I was taken to. Megatron said- Bumblebee began.
-What do you mean you spoke to Megatron?- The silver one's voice cut in.
-that Harry's parental units were offlined. Harry can tell you himself, he has access to his comm unit.-
The blue and red one had been looking at Harry this entire time, optics ancient and sad. He bowed a bit to maintain optic contact with Harry. -Little one, would you tell us your story?- His voice was much softer through the transmission.
Harry looked away, clutching a little closer to one of Ratchet's digits. In response, the yellow bot curled his servos further in, partially blocking him from view. Despite being so terrifying earlier, Ratchet was quickly becoming Harry's favorite Autobot.
-M-my parents are dead.- He admitted, cringing away as Bumblebee's unit surged even closer. -But I'm not alone.-
Harry, he's not what you think he is.- Bumblebee protested, but Harry only gave him his best glare from the safety of Ratchet's hands.
-Lord Megatron was caring for me. I wanted to stay! Y-you took me away but I didn't want to go!-
-'Lord' Megatron?- The red and blue one echoed slowly.
-I guess Megatron looked out for him while they were in the lab together, he doesn't understand what a fracking psychopath he is.- Bumblebee shrugged with aggravating dismissal.
-Take that back! He's not a monster! Those scientists- they're the monsters! Lord Megatron never hurt me like they did!- Harry was rattling again, he could hear it distantly.
"Settle down now, hush." Ratchet cooed into Harry's audible receptors thumbing over his wings and applying the slightest pressure on his back. Harry felt himself still again, much to the other's pleasure.
"There you go. That's it, little one, you're fine." Little one, Harry blinked sadly, Lord Megatron called him that too.
"What does he mean by that? What scientists?" Ironhide growled, guns clicking ominously. "You said you found him in a lab but surely they didn't…"
Bumblebee's engines revved angrily and he clenched and unclenched his servos. -They did. The humans at the lab they took me to were dissecting any Cybertronian they could get their hands on. Megatron was frozen in there, and Harry was being experimented on-
He didn't finish his transmission before Ironhide let out an enraged roar and spun to face the red and blue one.
"Well, Prime? Are we to protect the humans now? To harm a sparkling was once a crime punishable by termination, and I will gladly revive that law right now."
The red and blue one looked away from Harry for the first time, scanning the ground in long scopes, taking in both the teenagers and the circle of military escorts shuffling around. He looked unspeakably sad, the Autobots overall seemed like a melancholy bunch to Harry.
"Though the ones responsible will be brought to justice, we cannot punish an entire race for the sins of a few individuals." The red and blue one, whose name was Prime it seemed, spoke as though every word hurt.
"Perhaps not punish, but why in Cybertron's name would we ever protect these creatures! Their species is capable of experimenting on a sparkling! Humanity's ignorance doesn't go far enough to miss sentience when they see it, they damaged a sparkling and that proves their race's unworthiness further than any test I could think up." Ironhide spat, cannons whirling madly.
Prime was silent again, only watching Ironhide for a moment. Then, he spoke with the reluctant misery of a doctor pronouncing a failed resuscitation. "Then by your measure, how much more damnable is the race that killed every other sparkling in existence?"
His words shot out like a bullet, physically tearing through the surrounding Autobots with visceral accuracy.
The silver one choked, crowding closer to Ratchet as though sheer proximity to Harry could heal his hurts. Ironhide let his cannons drop and turned his gaze away from Prime, facial plates slack. Even Ratchet gave a shaky exhale. Harry didn't know exactly what Prime meant, but it was clear they cut deep.
There was a long pause after that, somber and awkward in spades.
"Sparkling," Ironhide finally rasped, turning his optics down to Harry's curled form. "Are you in need of medical attention? Does anything still hurt?"
Harry shook his head, his scrapes had stopped aching and the warmth soothed his tired limbs. "From my scans, I know he has minor damage to his outer plating and a damaged wire, but the most pressing matter is the strain in his pistons and low energy levels. It's clear he was pushed to the point of collapse recently." Ratchet reported, delicately smoothing a digit over Harry's kinked wire, it sort of tickled.
"What about his talkin' with Megatron? He didn't do nothing to the sparkling's processors, did he?" The silver one prompted.
-They were talking for a while through comm transmissions. Megatron was frozen solid this entire time, only started getting out while I was leaving.- Bumblebee supplied.
Harry bristled, but Ratchet was already shaking his helm. "It would be impossible without direct access, it was the sparkling's own coding that made him so attached to Megatron."
"An emergency guardian protocol?" Prime murmured, and Ratchet blinked affirmatively.
"This little one must've been isolated for a while beforehand, the bond is rushed but deep in his programming."
-How long were you in the lab, little one?- Prime transmitted.
Harry shrugged, he was suspected it had been a few days but he was unwilling to share.
"I still don't under- how? How in the hell did a sparkling make it this long on Earth? What were the humans feedin' him all this time?" The silver one asked Bumblebee.
Harry could actually see the pulse of terror strike through the Autobots like a tidal wave. Ratchet let out a pained noise. -What were you eating before now, little one? Tell me.- He begged.
Harry squirmed uncomfortably, he didn't want to make them any more upset. He shrugged again, denta grit.
-They never fed me. I wasn't hungry ever.-
"That's impossible," The silver one hissed out, still looking terrified. "Is he glitched? Sparklings c-can't survive without sparkling-grade energon."
"What they need is an ultra-refined, low-intensity energy source." Ratchet corrected.
"There weren't any alternatives anywhere on Cybertron, but perhaps this sparkling was administered a human resource that does not require oral consumption," Prime said.
Ratchet pulled Harry away from his chest plate and flexed his servo in a way that him lightly petting Harry's front. For all that the digits were capable of plucking his head from his shoulders, the touch was soft and gentle.
"Stay still, little spark. I'm going to scan you to look for any abnormalities." He murmured softly, treating Harry like a sick kitten.
Harry stiffened at the thought of being scanned again. But Ratchet was so careful when he handled Harry, he didn't think he would be purposefully harmed by the boxy yellow Autobot.
The beam of light was no less terrifying the second time around, striking him with an alarmingly corporeal thump and creeping into his circuits moments later.
Blessedly, the session was much quicker. Ratchet cut the connection off almost immediately, a sharp intake of air his only reaction.
"What is it?" The English one asked fearfully. Harry hadn't thought to be afraid of the results until right then. If Ratchet had been looking for something weird inside him, did that mean something was wrong with him?
"His energy readings are as bright as a star- he's emitting! Almost like-"
Whatever conclusion Ratchet reached, Prime was quickly catching up. Without a word, the red and blue Autobot used his own scanning device and looked over the ancient relic reverently.
"Somethin' wrong with the Allspark too?" The silver one demanded, looking rapidly between Harry and the cube as though either might explode any second.
"The Allspark isn't in the cube anymore. It's empty."
"The Allspark...was destroyed?" Ironhide stumbled.
Bumblebee beeped loudly and pointed at Harry, a wordless ta-da sound coming from his speakers.
Harry was following the conversation. He shrank away from both Bumblebee and the cube, a shudder running through his wings. He knew exactly what they were talking about.
The cube, whatever was inside it that commanded so much power- a hundred thousand voices, each a hundred thousand years old, thundering as one- wasn't there anymore. It was inside Harry, silent and heavy somewhere at his very core. If he focused very hard he could almost feel their thrum still, the heartbeat tremor that had caught his attention in the first place.
"No, it's only moved. The Allspark is inside the sparkling." Ratchet curled both hands around Harry again, applying a slight pressure from all sides that made him feel a little safer. With Ratchet holding him, neither Bumblebee or the cube could get close, and he seemed affectionate enough that Harry might be able to depend on him if the other Autobots become angry or try to hurt him later.
"Inside? How the hell is he still online?" The silver one spluttered.
"Some Cybertronians could carry the Allspark without it merging with their spark, most of the higher-ranked priests could if you remember. It's rare but the Prime before me could carry it too, he noted its regenerative properties. But I wonder if it can sustain as well..." Prime mused.
Harry looked down at himself, at the glowing light at the center of his chest. He traced the circle of light with a clawed servo, pondering what he'd learned. So the Allspark inside him was feeding him too?
He hadn't really thought about food up to this point, mostly because he wasn't sure if Cybertronians ate anything and if they ate as frequently as humans. But it seemed they ate frequently enough that he should be dead by day four without sustenance, so he supposed holding whatever was in the cube wasn't completely bad.
Harry looked up at Ratchet. -So as long as the er- Allspark is inside of me, I'll never be hungry?-
Ratchet nodded, smoothing a hand over his head. "It's pure power, housing that much in a Cybertronian frame is usually too much to handle. But because you have a quirk in your spark chamber that allows you to house the Allspark without it interacting with your spark, you're projecting enough energy to sustain yourself without drawing on reserves."
Harry took that as a yes and settled back down.
"What- was the little guy speakin' to you? What did he say?" The silver one leaned in eagerly.
"He was just asking for clarification. He doesn't need to eat so long as the Allspark isn't removed from his spark chamber."
The silver Autobot blinked blue optics down on Harry. "If ya have any more questions, I can answer a few of em too, cool? The name's Jazz, by the way."
Harry stared silently at the very strange Cybertronian.
"Prime, we haven't introduced ourselves to the sparkling yet," Ironhide muttered to Prime, but whatever discretion he was hoping for was utterly lost in the booming volume of his voice.
Prime straightened, and with a tilt of his head made Ratchet hold Harry up a little higher and closer to the other Autobots.
Harry didn't want this at all but was becoming resigned to the handling. Instead of protesting or scratching uselessly at Ratchet's hand, he lowered himself and held on tight.
"Apologies, little sparkling. This solar cycle has been extremely eventful, you must be very confused." Prime began softly, looking a little too close to reaching out and petting him. Harry felt his wings flatten against his back.
"My designation is Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots."
Harry knew for certain that he had a mouth under his mouth plate then, for he could feel his jaw drop in shock at the illustrious title. If Lord Megatron was the leader of the Decepticons, and Autobots were the enemies of the Decepticons, then he was face-to-face with Lord Megatron's greatest opposition.
Sour fear crept up his throat, leaving him a degree colder in the warmth of Ratchet's heated servos. He had already revealed his connection to his Decepticon guardian and he had no intention of joining the Autobots, would they punish him for it? Was Optimus Prime angry? He didn't seem so, maybe he had forgotten?
"This is my first lieutenant, designation Jazz." Optimus continued, oblivious to Harry's growing distress.
The silver one gave a lazy salute.
"My weapons specialist, Ironhide." Optimus gestured over to the English one, who nodded.
"It is an honor, sparkling."
Harry nodded back hesitantly.
"You've already been acquainted with my medical officer, Ratchet." Optimus continued.
Ratchet gave him a minute squeeze, optics dark and warm all at once. "Hello, little one."
"And then, of course, you also know my scout, designation Bumblebee."
"Hello, it's me.../I can tell that we are going to be friends~" Bumblebee waved happily at him as if he hadn't torn him away from Lord Megatron a few hours prior.
Harry glared for all he was worth, before turning back to Optimus. Harnessing the heat in his chest, he leveled the Autobot leader with a determined gaze.
-I want to be put back. Bumblebee took me from Lord Megatron and I didn't want to go, please let me leave.- He tried to sound as confident as possible, but even he could hear the tiny quiver in his transmission.
"Holy frag, he really thinks he's Megatron's sparkling." Jazz whispered, far too loud for Harry not to hear. He resolutely didn't look in the silver Autobot's direction, though it stung to hear the disbelief. Harry was Lord Megatron's!
Optimus glanced briefly at Bumblebee before looking back to Harry, still sitting in Ratchet's outstretched palm. "I know you're scared, little one. But whatever Megatron might have said, no harm will come to you here. I swear on my spark that you will be cared for." He soothed solemnly.
Whatever bravery Harry had mustered shattered under Optimus' compassion, a choked sob welled in his throat and he crumpled in on himself.
Ratchet let out a croon and Harry was immediately sequestered to the safety of Ratchet's chest. But he wasn't hysterical or panicky, there was nothing to calm. There was just a heavy stone of grief sitting in his chassis.
He remembered how Lord Megatron comforted instantaneously whenever he made such noises of distress and demanded to know the cause with a strangely wondrous lethality. Harry wished with all his hear- spark, that Lord Megatron would somehow hear his cries and rescue him right at that instant.
"Shh...it's okay, little spark." Ratchet rocked him ever so slightly. "You're going to be just fine."
"What's wrong with him?" Ironhide looked concerned, "Is he malfunctioning? Is he hurt? What happened?"
"It's just an emergency guardian protocol" Optimus said. "Little one, your caretaker isn't your parental unit, he's not capable of caring for you. He's not-"
"Leave him be! He's a sparkling, not a soldier, you can't just tell him to stop being sad." Ratchet snapped, turning his back to Prime and blocking him from Harry's view.
Harry curled tighter and fought to ignore Optimus' horrible words. It wasn't just a stupid program. Lord Megatron was the only one who had ever really cared about him, who was strong and mean enough to protect him from anything. Lord Megatron promised that they would stay together, and Harry would not break that promise, especially not for people like Bumblebee.
"Don't cry, little guy." Jazz sounded distraught. "There's nothin' for ya to be afraid of. We're gonna do way better by ya than any bitch-ass Decepticon could."
"Language." Ironhide chided, and Jazz actually looked more guilty.
-I want to go b-back to the lab. Please don't keep me here...I want Lord Megatron.- Harry cried into Ratchet's servos. His pleas were babble at that point, for all that the Autobots listened.
"No, no, no. Don't ask for that, you'll never see those damned labs so long as I'm functioning." Ratchet fretted and began to stroke Harry again.
Though the grief didn't lessen, Harry did quiet under the medic's attention. How could he not? He had never been soothed like that before, so patient and gentle. Even Lord Megatron, whom Harry would choose over any Autobot in a second, was much more commanding even in comfort.
-That's it, just rest.- Ratchet transmitted encouragingly, warm, warm servos cupping his entire body like a winter quilt.
Abruptly, a new group of humans in military uniform, escorted by two tanks, pulled up to the circle of men. They spoke for a period of time with the American military already positioned in a wide circle, before the teenaged boy trot up to them. Harry hadn't seen him leave, but a quick scan of the area told him the two teenagers had made themselves comfortable in the shade by a truck while the Autobots had dealt with him.
"They're getting kinda antsy over there, Optimus." The teenaged boy warned nervously. "They told me to tell you that they're willing to put you in a military warehouse while they, like, sort through things. So long as you let them watch you, I mean."
Optimus turned toward his unit, a silent question in the air.
"I'm down. Might be good cover from the Decepticons." Jazz shrugged.
"I don't think we should trust the humans, they shouldn't even be on the same planet as a sparkling." Ironhide didn't look murderous when he stared down at the teenaged boy, but there wasn't a hint of thaw to the ice in his optics.
The teenager skirted closer to Bumblebee.
"We'll need to make contact with Earth's governments eventually, so long as we don't compromise safety this might be a good move." Ratchet advised neutrally, giving Harry another rock.
"It's a yes from me! Congratulations, you're going to-/to hide away, hide away?~" Bumblebee agreed, the bubbly playback offsetting his sad glances toward Harry.
Harry steeled himself and looked away. He wasn't being a bully, he wasn't. Bumblebee hurt him first. He wouldn't listen to Harry and now he was stuck with the Autobots and Megatron was all alone, perhaps still struggling to get out of the ice.
"Alright, then. Sam, tell your commander that we will acquiesce for now." Optimus instructed.
"Ratchet, keep Harry and the cube with you during transport. Stay in the center of our formation."
"Wait, his designation is Harry? Who named him?" Ironhide interrupted.
"What's wrong with that? It's a hell of a lot more unique than 'Ironhide'." Jazz defended.
"We'll discuss redesignating the sparkling later. Right now we need to roll ou-"
A concussive blast slammed straight into Optimus' chest plate, sending him sprawling on the ground in a deafening crash.
Harry shrieked, burrowing into Ratchet as one of the tanks transformed into a sandy, angular Cybertronian.
Ironhide was already firing back, Jazz shoved Ratchet behind him as if his short stature could cover the medical officer. Harry screamed again as he was violently lurched along with the rough movement, dizzy and trembling with the ferocity of his grip on Ratchet. The human soldiers were scattering like insects, the taptaptaptap of their guns rattled uselessly off the haywire tank.
"Give me the cube!" The tank robot bellowed, lunging into the fray and grappling with Ironhide head-on.
"Ratchet, get behind me!" Optimus commanded, on his feet and sprinting toward the grappling twist of robots.
Ratchet bent to scoop up the fallen cube and backed up even further. Harry didn't know why he wasn't helping Jazz fire at the tank whenever the wrestling pair paused long enough to make a steady target, but he definitely wasn't going to ask.
For all that the tank Cybetronian was dense and armed to the teeth, he was badly outnumbered and Harry doubted he even had a chance at victory.
But victory wasn't the goal, it seemed. For the tank spent far less time defending himself from Ironhide's heavy artillery, Jazz and Bumblebee's rapid-fire, or even the sword Optimus swung out to slice through armor like butter.
Instead, he was firing madly at the lot of them. Blasting Ironhide off his back with a tank missile and headed on a berserker rampage right for Ratchet. His burning red optics never left the cube, even as Optimus tore his left servo off at the shoulder and sizzling energon hit the pavement.
Bumblebee leapt at the tank next, but the enemy rolled at the last second and rode Bumblebee into the ground. Using the space he created, the tank leveled his sights right on Ratchet, long scope glinting off the dying sunset.
Ratchet transformed into a Hummer to take evasive action, Harry landed heavily on his side in the cab and immediately threw himself to the floor in an effort to wedge himself and avoid smacking into the windows during a hairpin turn. The cube rattled across the interior, colliding into his wings at one point and yanking a cry from his vocal processor.
"Don't touch him!" Ironhide screamed above the din, sending cannon fire after the tank. It was an incredible testament to the enemy's armor that it was only denting horribly under the attack.
The battle was chaotic, only a handful of seconds had reduced the calm circle of Autobots into roaring, burning giants on a warpath. The pandemonium outside Ratchet's cab, a mix of howling cries of pain from the tank, and spark-jolting thuds of incredibly large projectiles slamming into the ground far too close either Harry or Ratchet.
Then, a single shot rang out. And with it, a blanket of silence descended.
Harry cautiously peered outside Ratchet's window,for even the medical officer had come to a braking halt upon the lone fire. The tank was in a bubbling heap on the ground, clearly and brutally dead.
Harry averted his eyes, nausea welling as he searched for the one who killed him. None of the Autobots had their weapons pointed at the right angle, but there was a new figure a distance away. Gunmetal silver and bigger than a house, it could only be one person.
Megatron lowered his servo, blaster still smoking from the execution of his soldier. The slimy fragger deserved a much worse fate than the quick shot Megatron delivered, given the chance he would've made a messy example of what happens when a fool chooses to doubt the leader of the Decepticons.
Brawl had always been impulsive, and that impulsiveness had devolved into sheer blinding aggression very quickly after the fall of Cybertron. Megatron knew he'd eventually have to put the berserker down, but that Brawl had come so close to injuring his sparkling...the rage left him speechless.
For Brawl to believe there was a being smart enough to fool Megatron with a false-sparkling, to believe that he wouldn't be killed for disobeying orders, to believe he could get to the Allspark alone- the arrogance was borderline insanity. He hadn't suspected for a moment that Megatron would realize he was missing a soldier, or predict Brawl's actions and seek out the Autobot unit for himself.
Prime and his pathetic band of rejects scrambled to their peds, weapons level at Megatron. It was laughable that they believed he was here to fight them, as if he would stand so still in a battle when he was once renowned for making his initial attack irreparably fatal.
Starscream landed beside Megatron, red optics darting from Autobot to Autobot with ill-hidden anxiety. It was appalling, a millennia of unchecked cowardice had riddled his second with failures.
Megatron knew his other troops were milling about nearby, under direct order not to interfere or attack the Autobots during this exchange. He had just killed their comrade for doing something similar, he doubted the command was needed. But he'd learned not to overestimate the intelligence of others, very few Cybertronians were worth the energon they ran on.
The two factions stared at each other for a moment, Megatron knew Prime's self-righteousness would never allow him to fire first, especially after it appeared as though he had assisted them. So he felt no apprehension of his own, merely searching the Autobots for the sparkling they didn't deserve to have- should never have even seen.
It was hard to tear his gaze from the yellow scout, even after he'd determined Haeree was not in his possession. Every minuscule circuit within him bayed for destruction and he was reluctant to reign it in when the scout so badly needed to be dismantled for his crimes against Megatron.
"Where's my sparkling, Prime?" Megatron growled finally, his voice echoing. Even the filth squirming about in uniform remained still, no doubt sensing the apex predator among them.
"He's not your sparkling." The large black mech barked back.
"The sparkling is mine." Megatron said, but kept his stare squared solely on Prime. He already had an idea of where Haeree was, only one of Prime's troops was in their alt form, and the distance from Brawl's cooling corpse suggested he had been retreating during the battle.
"With us," Prime finally answered, "safe."
Megatron bared his denta in a snarl. "Give it to me."
-Lord Megatron! You came back!- Haeree's joyous lisp transmitted directly into his comm unit.
Megatron grinned. -Of course I did, you're mine. Status report.-
"Or what?" Prime's puny second-in-command spat.
-I'm fine. They haven't hurt me- but I want to go with you! Please, get me out of here!- Haeree pleaded, and the grin melted right off Megatron's facial plates.
They were distressing his sparkling, the pathetic fools were holding it captive and making it cry right in front of him.
"Or I'll yank the engine out of every last one of you with my bare servos." He didn't fire any of his weapons, but it was a close thing. Even Starscream was fidgeting under their sheer gall.
Prime was still watching him, not making any move to attack. But the rest of his unit bristled and fell into formation, weapons whining for battle. The lone mech in alt form remained behind, however, further convincing Megatron that his sparkling resided in the cab.
"You wouldn't fight us now, not after offlining one of your own just to keep the peace." Prime decided.
"Make no mistake, Prime, I have no interest in peace." Megatron sneered. "I just don't trust your weak-willed, second-rate glitches to keep my sparkling undamaged while I finally take you down."
-Lord Megatron? Can you hear me? I'm in the yellow car! P-please help me! Please! I want to be with you!- Haeree sounded panicked now.
-Hush, little one.- Megatron shushed. -I won't leave you, never doubt me. But I won't return you to your rightful place this solar cycle-
"Any one of my troops would gladly lay down their sparks for a sparkling. That's precisely why you will never touch this one again, he is where he belongs." Prime declared, practically begging for Megatron to take his head off with his denta.
-W-what? Why? Is it something I did? I'm sorry! I'm sorry if I-
-Calm yourself, this is not a punishment. If you displease me I will make it known, understood?-
-Yes, I guess. But-
Megatron interrupted again. -It is not safe to retrieve you at this time, any potential for damage is unacceptable. I will gather my army and lay siege upon this entire galaxy to return you to me, but only when I deem the risk factor of such a mission negligible.
Haeree let out a low, mournful whine that was audible even from Megatron's place several hundred feet away. Optimus narrowed his optics, but was the only mech smart enough not to lurch in alarm toward the yellow mech in the back, keeping his attention fixed in the deadliest being for light-years.
"This is my only warning, Prime. Keep my sparkling safe while I offline every wretched mech glitched enough to make their optics blue, because if it even gains a scratch during your downfall, you'll be begging for a death I will never grant."
If the Autobot unit had been lead by any other soft-helmed malfunction, Megatron would not have made that threat. The solution was too obvious, just use the sparkling as a living shield. But Megatron knew Prime, Prime formed his faction out of a failing logistics system instead of desperate fear of being melted down for spare parts, unlike his miserable band of inferiors. It was that same flawed moral code Megatron was relying on right then.
Just as Megatron knew Prime would protect the human germs, he knew that Prime would never put Haeree in the way of Megatron's onslaught.
"Unlike your own mechs," Prime began, purposefully glancing at the wreck of Brawl. "Not a single Autobot would ever put a sparkling in peril on purpose. You have my word that the sparkling will be cared for until his final frame of growth under my command."
-I don't care! I've been beat up before, I can handle it! Don't worry about me, please. Just let me go with you!- Haeree keened, and it was borderline painful to ignore the caretaker protocols flickering to full power in response to his sparkling's distress.
Though the urge was so strong, all Megatron would have to do to rush forward and reclaim his sparkling was stop resisting- the programming would take over from there, the risk was still far too high. With just Brawl's attack, Haeree had almost been hit by a tank missile, the Autobots would fail immediately at protecting the sparkling from even the tiniest secondary fire if he were to attack.
"However," Prime continued unexpectedly. Megatron stiffened, was this a rare miscalculation? Had Prime toughened up while Megatron had been encased in ice? "I cannot guarantee the sparkling's safety should you ambush our base of operations, where the sparkling will be kept."
Did Prime already have a base? The humans had put one of his scouts in a lab for torture, could he have negotiated so quickly? Perhaps he found a deserted place? No matter.
"One base." Megatron rumbled warningly. "No offense system."
"One base." Prime echoed in agreement.
"M-My lord, will you seriously allow them to make demands-" Megatron flipped Starscream flat on his back, on top of his wings. The wheeze of pain was music to his auditory sensors as Megatron stomped on him for good measure.
"Cherish your final moments, Prime. I won't allow you to survive this theft." Megatron warned over his shoulder, and then transformed into an air-based alt form and blasted off before any mech could get off a shot. Starscream chased after him, an undignified screech of fear announcing his escape.
-Negative. Your safety will not be compromised. Remain with the Autobots for now, do not go to any human. If you see a Cybertronian with the Decepticon insignia on it, approach slowly. I will get you back, Haeree, make no mistake… Farewell for now.-
-Lord Megatron, wait!-
Megatron's hatred for the Autobot unit only doubled as he left Haeree's proximity, losing his grief-soaked transmission halfway through.
He would do whatever it took to get Haeree back, their separation was unacceptable.
First he would gather his army, impress upon them the torment they faced should a single servo ever touch his sparkling without permission, and then lay waste to his enemies until only the scout remained.
The scout would lose his wings first and his life a very distant last.
Then he would have Haeree again, his most prized possession. And finally, he would raise the tiny sparkling in the reclaimed halls of Cybertron, a prince and shining beacon of a dawning new age. Haeree would laugh and sing as sparklings once did, though Megatron could scarcely remember. And most importantly, never cry again.
This, he etched into his spark.
Notes:
Megatron, pumping iron in the gym, murder face on: I am gonna get SO good at hugging.
Chapter 6
Summary:
The born-again hostage robot wizard orphan baby finally has enough of this nonsense.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"...and I'll never forget the planet we came across while traveling through Gamma Eight, we hadn't identified any life for a couple of orns by then and these two scientist-type mechs, I forget their designations, were getting antsy.
"So they convince my squad leader to check out one of these planets, it was full of strange gas. We should've been on our way to the outpost but my squad was full of bored rookies and my squad leader was clearly trying to impress this one femme with how adventurous he was or something. Lousy piece of- Er, I mean-"
-So what happened?- Harry burst bravely, wonder winning over any trepidation he might feel about daring to urge Ratchet to continue his story.
"I'm getting to it, little one. We searched and searched for any sign of life but there wasn't anything besides gas, rock, and what residue occurs when you put those two things together. The scientists were practically sulking. Right as we were gonna leave, my squad leader notices something- the gasses were shifting in composition and space in a very strict pattern! These chemical clouds were sentient!"
-Really?- Harry gasped.
Ratchet's mouth plates tilted upward into a smile, stilted and slight like a half-dead flower still trying to face the sun. "That's right. They couldn't speak or hear, but they could communicate through carefully fluctuating mixtures and chemical bonds. It was one of the oddest things I'd ever seen."
Harry tried to picture what those gas aliens must've looked like, clouds of color that could think and feel like he could. The idea might be even more outlandish than alien robots who could turn into cars at will. -Could you understand what they were saying?-
Ratchet hummed. "In a sense. The scientists got to translating right away and it wasn't long until we had a general notion of what they were communicating. It would've taken longer, but the cloud aliens were a very simple species. They weren't organized enough to be considered a society by Cybertronian standards, just barely sentient enough to attempt speaking to us."
-Did they have designations?- Harry wondered, just how smart was barely sentient?
Ratchet gave a rumble, it might've been a laugh. "Yes, though not like yours or mine. It was more like 'seven percent oxygen, ten percent nitrogen, twenty percent…' it went on and on. Their designations were very slight and specific volumes of gas, it was ridiculously hard to mimic back."
-How long did you- Harry cut off his transmission with a shudder, suddenly hyper-aware of how drafty it was in the military hangar they were stashed inside. In his fascination, he had inched his way up to the edge of Ratchet's palm where the heated plates ended, pressing himself against the much colder components of his wrist.
Ratchet swiftly pressed him back in place and curled his digits around Harry like a makeshift cove that kept him away from the airflow.
"Are you feeling okay? Is that better?" He asked, his smile gone.
Harry hoped it would come back, Ratchet had told him wonderful story after story since leaving the edge of that city and helped distract him from the vapor trails Lord Megatron left behind. He made an effort to beam at the other robot, shining all the light he could past his mouth plate. -Much better, now. Thank you, Ratchet.-
To his delight, the smile crept hesitantly back onto the yellow robot's face. "Of course, it's my pleasure."
"It would be my pleasure too if you ever deign to share the sparkling." Ironhide grumbled from his position by the door. Optimus Prime had left with the human military officials a while ago to talk about something that sounded very serious and Jazz had been put in charge, his first command had been to place Ironhide on guard duty. None of the Autobots appeared particularly concerned for their leader despite how angry those men had looked, but Ironhide hadn't shifted from his post even once.
"Harry's not a toy if he wants to move he need only ask." Ratchet snipped back, running a thumb down Harry's spine in a manner that robbed him of any desire to move he may have held.
Ironhide gave Ratchet an unimpressed look before glancing down at Harry.
"If he ever lets you go, you should know everyone here has the ability to warm their servos." He said this with an ill-fitted kindness, almost too gruff for the higher tone he adopted. The Autobots, Harry was beginning to find, were an awkward group. Lord Megatron was much more confident and direct when he spoke to Harry, none of this hesitation.
Harry looked away, down at his own servos. It hurt to think of Lord Megatron, he missed him so much. It was an ache as fierce as the cold, but without any relief.
-Hey, why does Harry like heat anyways? When I was a sparkling I didn't give it a thought.- Bumblebee transmitted in a public broadcast, giving Harry an inquisitive look.
Harry turned bodily away from the other yellow robot, allowing Ratchet's cupped hand to block him from view. It was mean, but Harry wished Bumblebee would've gone with Prime. Or even better, would've been placed in a completely different hangar from them.
"You were just never placed in unoptimized quarters during your first frame, you probably don't remember, but Cybertron was warmer than Earth. Harry's too young to properly regulate himself and the optimal temperature for our race is higher than the optimal temperature of humans. These rooms are far too cold for him."
Harry blinked. -Does that mean I'll get warmer when I grow up? How long will that take?-
Ratchet hummed, petting Harry all the while. "That depends on a lot of things, but once your spark's strong enough for your first frame upgrade you'll have a lot more control over yourself."
-But how long exactly?- He pressed.
"The average is about fifteen deca-cycles. But don't worry about it too much, little one, your first frame only lasts a very short time compared to your other frames."
Harry was pretty sure a deca-cycle was a year, which meant he might have five more years of dodging the cold since he was ten years old now. Harry felt his wings droop as he furiously wished he would be an early bloomer in something and grow a...second frame or whatever.
-How do I get a second frame, Ratchet?-
Ratchet raised Harry to optic level, staring across at him curiously. "Once your spark has grown to the point of becoming too big for your frame, a second one is built for you. Your core features are transferred over, but usually parental units remove everything else and replace them with larger, more complex components."
Like when Vernon got his car fixed, almost everything ended up having to be replaced after he crashed it into a stoplight. Harry stared up owlishly.
-Will it hurt?-
"'Course not!" Jazz huffed. "Nothing's torn off of you, just disconnected. Worst part is feeling tingly and shit, but no pain."
"Language," Ironhide grumbled.
"Ah, sorry! I meant…stuff?"
Harry tuned them out and gazed back up at Ratchet. The yellow robot wasn't smiling anymore, but his bright blue optics twinkled affectionately as he cradled Harry close in hand. Ratchet was so nice and warm, like a new art teacher who hadn't heard the rumors but better. He was swiftly becoming Harry's favorite Autobot, the cuddliest alien he'd met by far.
Not long afterward, Optimus Prime came back flanked by sweaty, scowly soldiers.
"What's the deal?" Jazz prompted eagerly while the Autobot leader swept his intimidating gaze across the hangar, landing on everyone individually.
"Temporary asylum." One soldier barked, hand firmly placed on his gun.
"In return, we will help the humans protect themselves from the Decepticon threat until we can come to a more permanent solution," Prime said.
"Why bother? Let's just leave." Ironhide growled, cannons spinning ominously. The soldiers bristled but said nothing.
"To where? What other planet is hospitable enough for a sparkling? We are too few to safely escort Harry through deep space, never mind without a protected destination."
Deep space? Harry shivered, did he even want to leave Earth? Certainly not without Lord Megatron.
"You will remain in this hangar until 2100 hours, then you will be relocated to a more secure location until further notice. If you do not comply, any agreement will be null and void and you will be an enemy to the United States and its allies." The soldier shouted, his hand shaking ever so slightly on the handle of his gun, but he held his ground and met every Autobot in the eye. Harry had to admire the bravery, he wouldn't dare do the same even in a fellow robot body.
"You think your puny threats scare me, human?" Ironhide ground out, straightening to attention with murder in his optics.
"Easy, Ironhide." Optimus Prime stalked in front of the shivering human soldiers while they scurried back in fright.
"We'll comply." Jazz reassured the humans, none of whom looked away from Ironhide for even a second.
"Isn't that right, Ironhide?" Optimus prompted tersely.
Harry wondered if he could actually hear the grind in Ironhide's gears as he fought with himself and eventually dragged his head down into a resentful display of submission, or if it was just his imagination.
"Fine."
The humans left soon afterward, stinking so strongly of sweat that Harry could smell them all the way up from his perch even after their departure.
"Little one, how do you fare?" Optimus Prime caught his attention, leaning in too close for comfort.
Harry pulled himself flush against the wall Ratchet made with his digits before dredging up the courage to respond. If he were even braver, he wouldn't speak at all. He didn't want to talk to Lord Megatron's enemy, especially after all the awful things he said about Lord Megatron at the city outskirts.
-I'm fine.-
Neither Harry's cold tone nor flighty body language deterred Prime from staring, his optics bored into Harry's helm like he could rifle through his thoughts on will alone.
They remained this way for at least half a minute, silent and watchful for any movement on the other's part. When Prime finally did speak, it was to Ratchet.
"Is the sparkling's lack of vocal response a reason for concern?" He still hadn't looked away, scanning Harry over and over as though he were memorizing every inch of him.
"Not really. His controls are underdeveloped, especially the fine-tuning. But he's articulate enough for a first frame sparkling, just needs to keep practicing."
Harry looped his arms around Ratchet's thumb, anchoring himself to the mech in the intrusive wake of Optimus Prime and also seeking his attention.
-You mean I can speak? When I try everything comes out...- Harry grimaced under his mouth plate, -screechy.-
Ratchet cooed, a heady thrum that made Harry feel a little bit safer in his grasp. "Don't worry about a thing, your speech programs haven't been accessed nearly enough for your age but you have a fantastic grasp on your comm unit. You can speak, you just need to keep working on it until you can use your vocal processor as easily as your broadcasting system."
He glanced over at Bumblebee, mouth twitching. "Bumblebee had the exact opposite problem. He was a scout-class sparkling who barely knew how to ping others with his comm unit until well into his second frame, we thought he might've been glitched but he just wouldn't stop using his vocal processor long enough to work on his transmissions."
-Hey!- Bumblebee whined, affronted. -You really thought I was glitched?-
"Thought? I think that's still up for debate." Jazz cackled, dodging a playful swipe from the yellow Autobot.
Harry stubbornly ignored Bumblebee as he continued pondering his problems as a robot. He could barely do any of the things he was apparently completely capable of, he was so small among all these other robots and had so few things to offer. With the power of speech and steady temperature, he had been much more powerful as a normal boy. Maybe it would be better if he could gain height all on his own.
Unbidden, his wings straightened out, stretching out across his back like a proud cape.
-Could I fly if I kept practicing too?- Harry asked innocently.
"No. Absolutely not."
Harry clutched Ratchet tighter, he didn't have any more room to shrink away from Prime and he didn't dare ignore him like he did Bumblebee. He looked away from the big blue robot by pressing his face into the pad of Ratchet's thumb.
-Really? Not even a little bit?- He didn't look at Ratchet either, maybe it would make it less obvious that he trying to get around Optimus' order. He didn't want to get in trouble, but he also really wanted to use his wings, by far the most interesting thing about his new body.
"Well, it would probably help your underdeveloped controls." Ratchet hummed speculatively.
"Ratchet…" Optimus ground out.
"Oh, cool your engines, Prime." Ratchet huffed, "Harry barely has the power to glide with those wings and better to risk a bumpy landing than a bad fall."
"I suppose," Was his grudging response.
-Thank you, Ratchet! Thank you, thank you!- Harry cheered, his wings fluttering as though excited to be used as well.
He was going to fly!
"Are you going to undermine me in front of the sparkling every time?" The Autobot leader leaned back on his struts, looking none too pleased with Ratchet's veto.
"Don't go getting mad at me, now. It's your own fault you're unpopular."
Ratchet shuffled Harry around until he was placed back in the center of his palms. "And don't think there isn't a catch, little one. You can only practice gliding under direct supervision and you have to start practicing with your vocal processors as well."
Harry nodded furiously, there was very little he wouldn't agree to in order to try out his wings and he'd wanted to learn how to speak anyways.
"You may as well start now, try to say affirmative." Ironhide coached, dragging out the word helpfully. "Affirmative, like that."
Harry studied Ironhide's mouth, trying to mimic the movements under his mouth plate. "Zhhhxxxt." The noise he made in return sounded more like a broken blender than speech, he hunched his shoulders.
"Maybe something easier, try yes!" Jazz suggested.
It was easier, Harry knew how to say these words! It was so frustrating that his mouth wouldn't obey his thoughts and whatever replaced his vocal cords was constantly on the fritz. He didn't remember learning to speak as a baby and relearning it now was incredibly frustrating.
Yes! He wanted to say, knew how to say. Could picture saying it perfectly when he had flesh lips and a voice box.
"Zzhhhtss!" The pathetic blurb of noise seemed to echo endlessly in the Autobot's silence, each time digging a little deeper into Harry's spark.
"You're doing great, little one." Ratchet praised, reaching to pet him again.
Harry wrapped his arms around the digit, hugging it the way he would probably be hugging Ratchet if he weren't so gigantic. -I didn't say it.-
Careful not to jostle Harry's grip, Ratchet pulled him in closer. "That's what practice is for, no one here expects you to get it down in a single cycle. Just keep going." He encouraged.
Harry cuddled up to his captured digit, feeling a little better about his failure.
"Let's start with something more simple." Prime decided, "Practice making single vowels and work from there."
Harry reluctantly complied. Maybe once Prime was satisfied with his progress, he would go away.
Ahhhh… "Vvvvvxxh!"
He doubted it would come anytime soon though.
"Lord Megatron,"
Megatron looked away from the horizon, back into the dark recess of a rocky mountaintop.
He had been quick to move his Earth-bound Decepticons to a central location, their previously scattered, half-cocked arrangement completely unacceptable. It hadn't taken long to come across the desert rock formations so removed from human infestation, and even less time to carve out a suitable cave in order to remain undiscovered.
"Lord Megatron, Frenzy has reported movement from the Autobot unit."
Megatron surged into the cave, interest more than peaked as he finally stared down at Barricade. The mech looked appropriately subservient, Brawl had made an effective example for any disobedience. "Where are they headed? Has he seen the sparkling?"
There, Megatron saw the flicker of Barricade's optics. The mech was always a suspicious one, and that clearly hadn't changed. He didn't believe Haeree actually existed and he probably wouldn't until it was back in Decepticon custody.
Nonetheless, so long as Barricade was smart enough not to question him, Megatron was willing to excuse the disbelief as another symptom of being constructed from vastly inferior stock. With so few troops at hand, he had no choice but to remain sickeningly merciful.
"He's currently in pursuit, they are headed further into the desert, to an isolated human army establishment." For all that Barricade's optics gave him away, his tone remained even, "Frenzy has not spotted the sparkling, but he hasn't gotten close enough for visual confirmation."
"Tell him to keep it that way, I want Prime to be confident in his safety among the humans." Megatron bared his denta. He knew the soft-sparked glitch of a mech would join forces with those slimy insects, but he abhorred how Prime forced the sparkling into similar proximity. If it wasn't such a delicious gap in security, he may have just burnt every nearby human dirt mound into oblivion to avoid the situation entirely.
"Will you move Blackout, then? They are no longer in the city."
Megatron sneered. "Don't question me. Blackout remains incognito, I have plans for him."
"Of course, Lord Megatron, I...I just believe spreading out so thinly carries a great deal of risk. Especially with Starscream away, we lack air support."
With feline lethality, Megatron had Barricade pinned to the wall of the cave by his throat, razor-tipped servos pressed precisely across the tubing exposed under his jaw. Barricade froze, Megatron could almost feel the stutter of his spark underneath his digits.
Then Megatron spoke, staring straight into Barricade's wide red optics.
"That you every relied on a sole seeker, never mind the single most loathsome seeker in my ranks, for 'air support' is a failure so great I'm appalled you have the gall to continue existing in my presence. And now you question your lord a second time, as though your personal shortcomings wouldn't cause a better mech to rip out their own spark and escape themselves, I'm almost impressed at your daring."
Barricade remained stock still, not looking away for even a nanosecond.
Smart, Megatron mused, pressing down a little harder on his throat. Not smart enough to rise any higher in Decepticon ranks and clearly not smart enough to recognize his own stupidity and remain silent, but still, not every Decepticon knew not to look away from a predator.
-Lord Megatron!- Even in long-range transmission, Starscream had the insufferable habit of interrupting him.
Still, it could be important.
-Report.- Megatron allowed his optics to finally slide away from Barricade, who managed to communicate abject relief without moving a single gear.
-I've made contact with Soundwave. We plan to rendezvous in Delta Thirteen before returning.-
Soundwave, his most loyal follower. No doubt he had been drawn closer to Earth by Megatron's transmission from the lab, how perfect.
Infinitely more pleased now, Megatron allowed Barricade to slide out of his clutches.
The black trooper was out of range and out of the cave within scant spark-beats, nearly falling on his aft in his hurry to escape. If Barricade knew what was good for him, he'd remain in contact with Frenzy and complete a swift patrol of their new hideout. If he was smarter, he wouldn't utter his 'concerns' in decent company ever again.
-Lord Megatron?-
-Does Soundwave still possess Ravage and Laserbeak?- More stealth class mechs would be a great boon in infiltrating the Autobot base.
-That's why we're meeting at a fixed location, my liege. Soundwave deployed them before I made contact, all three will join us on Earth.-
-Excellent. Continue broadcasting my command and instruct Soundwave to do the same, all Decepticons are to head to Earth and submit themselves to me.-
There was a pause, Megatron held no doubt for its deliberation. It must burn Starscream to the core that he could only summon a handful of mechs under his own cause in the millennia he remained the highest of his rank, but within a single Earth cycle, one of the most decorated and powerful of Decepticons was rushing to Megatron's side.
Megatron allowed his second in command to stew for a time, to remind him of what true power really looked like.
-As you wish, my Lord.- Starscream finally projected, and the connection was cut.
Megatron grinned to himself, looking back out the mouth of the cave and on the crisp line of the desert horizon.
It wouldn't be long now, he'd get what was his soon. Prime should never have picked this fight with him, began a war he was doomed to lose from the start. He just couldn't seem to resist stealing things from Megatron, taking the most illogical stance possible and opposing a force he didn't have a chance to overcome.
Soon, Megatron would have Haeree in his grasp and the Allspark under his control. He just had to be patient a little while longer and everything would be righted.
Just a little while longer and he'd see bright green optics and fluttering wings and everything he'd never expected to yearn for before his horrid captivity.
Just a little bit longer.
"Little one, wake up. It's time to rise from stasis." Ratchet murmured.
Harry stirred, blinking sleepily up at the ceiling of Ratchet's cab. The drive from the hangar to wherever they were now had been so long, and after Ratchet had turned his wonderful heaters on Harry hadn't stood a chance.
The pleasant hum of the heaters still whispered throughout the cab, making his struggle to full awareness slow and reluctant. He blearily peered out the windows to find an isolated military base in the middle of the pitch-black desert, harshly lit by a dozen spotlights.
-Is this the place we were supposed to get to?- Harry mumbled, watching a pack of soldiers in jeeps encompass the transformed Autobots as they drove into the middle of the base. There was a tension in every American soldier as they glared at the Autobots, but Harry wasn't frightened from the confines of Ratchet's car seat. He was more intimidated by the cube strapped in the back with its own seatbelt than the humans outside.
"Affirmative. Optimus will go over the humans' protocol and we'll be directed to where we'll stay for now."
Harry hummed distractedly from his place by the window, the stars were out. He hadn't seen the stars or moon in what felt like months since being turned into a robot and trapped in a lab. They seemed so very far away even then, and it was bizarre to think that Lord Megatron and the Autobots lived even further past them.
With the exception of Ratchet, all the Autobots transformed back into their bipedal form, towering over the concrete and steel boxes that made up the military base. Every soldier visibly stiffened, but a commanding officer stepped forward.
"Are you Optimus Prime, the leader of your group?" She shouted up at the giant robots, dark eyes glinting in the spotlight as she craned her neck to stare up at Prime.
"I am. You must be Lieutenant colonel Jacobs."
"Yes," she answered, though it wasn't a question. "You will be under my command until further notice. As well as my major, Chen. He is currently securing the area so we will begin without him."
"Begin?" Ironhide echoed suspiciously.
"Discussing the terms of your stay, you'll find I run a very strict operation." She replied coolly and spun on one heel to turn her back on the Autobots.
"Follow me, I'll give you the tour."
And so the Cybertronians trudged slowly behind her, glowing lamplight optics taking in the barren desert that was to be their temporary home.
"This base is placed in the middle of 320,000 acres of land owned by the government. You are permitted to occupy fifty acres of it without an escort. Trespassing without consent will declare you an enemy of the USA and all her allies so be careful of how far you wander."
"What about all the other acres?" Jazz demanded.
"If you remain fully compliant during the duration of our treaty you may be rewarded further clearance, but for now be thankful our goodwill doesn't stop at the door of a shipping container." Jacobs retorted without looking back, her subordinates were not nearly so steeled and maintained a noticeably wide berth even as they escorted the bunch.
-Fifty acres is a lot bigger than my box in the lab.- Harry comforted, looking down at Ratchet's dashboard as a replacement for his face.
"It certainly is, but I'm afraid we've been rather spoiled. There aren't many borders in space." Was Ratchet's hushed response.
"Most of the space here is dedicated to surveillance and providing military support. The command center is over there." Jacobs gestured toward a squat cement block in the center of the camp. "We'll go over anti-extraterrestrial terrorism efforts there,"
"Those barracks to the side are for military housing, but you will be placed in our largest hangar for semi-private...extra-curricular activities." Jacobs kept her back to Harry, but he could sympathize with her thinly veiled confusion. He hadn't known robots needed rest either, it was strange to think that these Autobots might appreciate a soft bed too.
"What about the smaller warehouses over there?" Prime pointed toward a row of little blocks, darkly dressed soldiers stalked them in perfectly timed circles.
Jacobs didn't follow Prime's servo with her gaze. "That's where we keep the guns," she said bluntly. "The reason this base was chosen for your detainment was that we have the closest ties to Sector Seven, and therefore, all their anti-NBE gear."
She meant things like the cold hoses they'd used on Harry, Lord Megatron, and Bumblebee, he could tell. What else had they kept hidden away in case they actually thought Harry was a threat? More prongs and knives and freezing cold?
Infinitely more aware of the proximity between himself and humans who worked with those awful scientists, Harry cringed away from the window to press himself into his seat.
-They have weapons that really hurt, even for cybertronians.- Harry warned Ratchet.
The cab gave the slightest jerk, as Ratchet almost imperceptibly halted and resumed rolling behind Ironhide within the span of seconds.
"I'll keep that in mind," Ratchet promised aloud, but his tone was strangely bereft of emotion.
Harry tuned his attention back outside just in time to hear one of Prime's questions about the military base's weapons.
"-effective they can be against Decepticons?"
"Sector Seven kept the NBE-01 completely immobilized using technology from nearly a century ago. I have complete confidence that our cutting-edge weaponry will be an asset in battle."
Harry stiffened, they were- they were talking about doing all those horrible things to Lord Megatron!
-No!- Harry hadn't realized he'd shouted that across a broad transmission until Bumblebee prodded.
-What's wrong, Harry?-
Harry kicked his way to the other side of the cab, glaring up at Bumblebee's round optics. -You can't hurt Lord Megatron like that! I-I won't let you!- He declared, feeling both completely out of his depth and burning hot and cold with anger.
Didn't they know that ice hurt? Why wasn't Bumblebee opposed to using more human weapons against the Decepticons? Just the thought of Lord Megatron, who'd already been frozen for years without anyone to even talk to, being put back was horrifying.
-This is war, sparkling. Megatron has done much worse to us than anything these humans could accomplish and doesn't deserve your protection.- Prime rumbled.
Lord Megatron wasn't nice or friendly-looking, Harry wasn't stupid. He had probably been very mean to these Autobots, but still. -I don't care! You can't keep taking him away from me!-
Over and over, these Autobots made him watch Megatron shrink into the distance, and now they were planning to keep him away indefinitely? Even the scientists pitied him enough to bring him back to Lord Megatron after the endurance test, there was no such reprieve among the Decepticon's enemies.
-You would be better off being raised by humans than your lord.- Prime had inclined his massive head toward Ratchet's interior, steady gaze slicing clean through the window and car door and straight into Harry.
Harry begged to differ, he had received more care and warmth from a robotic alien military leader frozen in place than he ever had with his own relatives. He wasn't even sure the Dursleys were still looking for him if they'd bothered alerting the authorities at all.
-It is through no sense of malice that we keep you from him, sparkling. He would only use you to-
"Optimus? What are you looking at?" Jacobs unknowingly interrupted, rigid posture hunching just the slightest bit as though preparing for an ambush.
"Just keeping alert, the Decepticons are still avoiding detection so it would be wise to remain vigilant." Prime lied quickly, gaze wandering away from Harry as though he had merely been staring across the open desert.
-We will continue this later.-
Harry dared to huff furiously from inside Ratchet and clambered back into his passenger seat. He had no interest in hearing more insults and accusations hurled at his guardian, especially after learning of their plans to try attacking Lord Megatron alongside the American military.
"Yes, so Major Chen is carefully monitoring every vehicle cleared into this base." Jacobs relaxed a fraction. "The Tranquility escort incident earlier today will not happen again."
"Speaking of which, follow me into the command center, I believe we should look over possible security risks to this base before going any further. The tour has concluded."
Prime nodded amicably but swept a servo over Ratchet and Ironhide.
"Acknowledged, but first I'd like some of my team stay behind. My medical officer will be unnecessary, for instance."
Jacobs only inclined her head before stalking into the center building, a flank of soldiers shadowing her. The others stayed behind, shrinking just the slightest bit without Jacobs to bolster them, but nonetheless keeping position around the Autobots.
"Ratchet and Ironhide, take our cargo and establish how suitable our hanger is for occupation," Prime commanded audibly, loud enough that most soldiers could hear him clearly. Harry bristled at being referred to as cargo, but couldn't bring himself to protest. Prime could crush him with a single hand if he wanted to so Harry was trying to pick his battles.
-Be careful.- Prime privately sent, before setting off after Jacobs. "Jazz, Bumblebee, with me."
And so the Autobots split up, Prime and his selected mechs ducking into the partially underground command center while Ratchet rolled slowly after Ironhide in the opposite direction.
In the back of a carefully vetted and registered jeep, a beat-up junky boombox blinked innocently away.
Thankfully, the soldiers didn't follow Ironhide and Ratchet into the building designated as their living space.
The hanger was even larger than the one from before, with ceilings almost as vaulted as the lab under Hoover Dam and enough uninterrupted concrete flooring to fit three basketball courts easily. There weren't any humans inside either, more isolated and silent than the desert outside.
"Hang on." Ratchet mumbled from his speakers and transformed slowly into his bipedal form.
Harry allowed himself to be shuffled into Ratchet's hand, the cube in the other, wings twitching madly.
"It's not so bad in here, Prime will be relieved." Ratchet mused, rolling his joints as he peered around the hangar. "There might even be room enough in here for me to unpack some equip-"
-I hate it here! I hate Optimus, I hate Bumblebee, and I hate those...bloody...weapons!- Harry exploded, boiling over right in the palm of Ratchet's hand.
-I need to warn Lord Megatron! He can't be captured again, he won't! I'll make sure, I'll warn him! I'm going to stop Optimus Prime from freezing Lord Megatron again!-
"Little one…" Ratchet said in an almost chiding tone, digit reaching out to pet him.
Harry wanted to be touched, to be comforted and pet like that. But not by Ratchet.
-Don't!-
He dodged the touch, leaning as far as he could away from Ratchet's other digits.
Ratchet visibly flinched.
-No! You're all trying to hurt Lord Megatron! I want to go back! Let me go! He doesn't deserve to be attacked by the humans again, it's not fair!- Harry wanted so badly to say his tirade aloud, to hear it echo satisfyingly off the lifeless walls of the hangar, but all he had were popping transmissions.
-Freezing hurts! Bumblebee should know that, why do they want Lord Megatron to hurt so much? It's mean! I hate them! You're all so mean!-
Being frozen, paralyzed and in pain, and helpless to stop it. It was horrible. Harry only had to endure minutes of it and he never wanted to be cold again, only the meanest people would ever want to make others feel like that!
Terrified and angry and completely vulnerable to strangers and hurting-
"Harry, calm down."
Harry blinked, the blue mist of liquid nitrogen and white coats falling away abruptly. In its place, he was staring up at a different shade of electric blue from Ratchet's, deeper and darker and framed by pitch plating.
Confused, he pulled himself upright and glanced around to find Ratchet hovering a few feet away, face blank.
He looked back up at Ironhide, who had somehow plucked Harry from the medical officer without his notice. Harry sat in the square of his servos, but he wasn't petted or cuddled, Instead, the planes of Ironhide's palms were smooth and flat.
"There you are," Ironhide sighed out, optics shuttering with relief.
Harry squinted, still confused and muddled with anger and worry. -I...I never left?-
"Harry," The black mech started, "You like Megatron, right? You think he's your creator?"
He stared up at Ironhide, perplexed at the random question right in the middle of Harry's furious rant. Was this why he picked Harry up? To call Lord Megatron bad names again?
-I know he didn't make me or anything.- Harry finally answered.
Ironhide hummed dismissively, absolutely still for all that his tone was sedate. "But you agree with everything else, Megatron is your guardian and you respect him."
Harry nodded guardedly. He was Lord Megatron's, which meant Lord Megatron would take care of him and Harry trusted him to do just that if only the Autobots would let him go.
"But you hate Optimus Prime?"
Harry bristled, back snapping straight. -Yes! He's a big, mean, scary bully!-
"Hey now-" Ratchet stammered, but Ironhide cut him off.
"But Megatron entrusted you to him."
Harry gaped up at the black mech, so, so confused now. Optimus Prime was the leader of the Autobots, the enemies of the Decepticons. Prime was the direct adversary of Lord Megatron and had stolen Harry just because he hated Lord Megatron so much. Lord Megatron had promised to get him back, there wasn't any trust involved. Right?
"Don't you remember what Megatron said a few hours ago?" Ironhide continued confidently when Harry failed to respond. "He told Optimus to take care of you, put him in charge of your wellbeing in front of everyone."
Harry thought back to right after that tank attacked, when Lord Megatron had been atop a building roaring threats down below. He had spoken mostly to Prime, and he could remember the two discussing Harry's safety at one point.
"Bumblebee...Optimus kidnapped me, Lord Megatron wanted me back and Optimus wouldn't let me go." Harry protested, Lord Megatron had promised to get him back. He hadn't given Harry over willingly, Harry wasn't stupid.
"And what did Megatron say next? Do you remember?" Ironhide remained unfazed.
Harry scowled up at Ironhide, he didn't know what the Autobot wanted from him. He didn't know what Lord Megatron said next, he could barely hear their distant conversation from Ratchet's cab and he hadn't been paying attention besides. He had just wanted to leave! He still wanted to leave.
"He made Prime swear to keep you safe." Ratchet murmured, realization flashing across his faceplates.
Harry peered warily at the both of them. -He...he did?-
Ironhide nodded firmly, making direct optic-contact. "He told Optimus to keep you safe in the meantime, he trusts that you'll be good and listen to us."
Harry shrank away unsurely, had he really said that? Had Lord Megatron intended for him to respect Optimus and the other Autobots until he was finally retrieved?
-He- Lord Megatron told me to stay with the Autobots until he could get me.- Harry looked down at his own clawed servos. Lord Megatron had told him to stay, had trusted Optimus Prime to keep him safe.
But still…
Harry sprang back to life, a wordless vrrr! of indignation sprang from his chest.
-But what does that have to do with Optimus being mean? He's trying to hurt Lord Megatron! I still hate him!- That's right! No matter what Lord Megatron's intentions were, that didn't mean Optimus wasn't still trying to freeze him all over again.
"It has to do with how you're treating us. Megatron told you to let us care for you, but look, you made Ratchet so sad screaming at him just now." Ironhide sternly replied. "You don't have to like your situation, but we're just trying to look after you like Megatron said. If you keep resisting, you might end up hurting yourself."
Harry stared up at Ironhide for a while, optics wide. Had he...had he been mean too? He was so angry and frightened for Lord Megatron and himself, he didn't want to be there and the Autobots were his enemy. But was Harry disobeying Lord Megatron by rebelling? Was his rage not only useless but inappropriate as well?
Harry wasn't sure.
But, Harry turned back toward Ratchet, Ironhide was probably right about one thing. He had screamed at Ratchet and hurt his feelings on purpose, even though the medical officer had been the nicest one by far.
-I'm sorry, Ratchet.- He sent sincerely, tugging uncomfortably on his clawed digits. -You're not mean...I shouldn't have said that.-
Ratchet drew himself up. "Of course, little one. There's nothing to forgive, you're only worried for your prev- your guardian."
Harry watched Ratchet for a moment, there was still something stiff in his manner. Was Ratchet still made with him? Or worse, still hurt? What else could Harry do to make it better?
He'd deliberately rejected Ratchet's touch out of anger, maybe…
Feeling ridiculous but willing to give it a shot anyway, Harry raised both his arms, reaching out to Ratchet in a universal request.
Immediately, Ratchet swooped in and Harry tumbled into his warm warm servos. Ironhide's had been warm too, but Ratchet seemed to throw off blissful heat throughout his entirety.
A rattling purr came from deep within the medical officer as he pressed Harry to his chest plate, clearly pleased with Harry again. Harry slumped in relief, ecstatic that Ratchet had forgiven him. He didn't know what he would've done if the cuddliest of the Autobots wouldn't pet him anymore.
"You're fine, little one. You're okay." Ratchet cooed a familiar comfort, though Harry wasn't upset. He let Ratchet rub his head and say things he didn't need to hear, for some reason he seemed so happy doing it.
-I'm sorry, Ironhide.- Harry remembered to say to the black mech watching them in satisfaction. -I shouldn't have yelled at you either.-
"Didn't really yell, though, did you? You can make it up to me by being able to properly scream, affirmative?" Ironhide cocked his helm. He didn't seem angry or sad like Ratchet, so Harry was content to bob his head obediently and start working on his vowels again.
"Vvvvvvvh!"
Harry practiced screeching in front of his oddly enraptured audience for a while before Prime, Jazz, and Bumblebee ducked into the hangar.
"Prime," Ironhide barked in lieu of a greeting, "Look at how good Harry's gotten."
Suddenly, all Autobots' optics were zeroed in on Harry, intense and unblinking. Harry ducked away shyly, looping an arm around Ratchet's thumb.
"Go on." Ratchet encouraged, lifting him a little higher in the air, like the world's most elaborate stage.
Harry stalled, tugging on his claws and shuffling in place. It wasn't anything impressive, babies could do it upon birth.
When the Autobots showed no sign of getting bored with his awkward hesitance, Harry pulled himself together and got it over with.
"Ahhhhh!" He got out, the first clear clean note he'd been capable of in days.
Despite himself, Harry was a little proud of the lack of static and burbles. He'd worked hard on that one vowel after he'd finally achieved it, repeated it over and over until it sounded like it came from a living creature.
He peeked out toward the three Autobots still standing at the entrance of the hangar, what did they think?
Bumblebee and Jazz spoke at the same time. Or, rather, Bumblebee began playing a loud and enthusiastic applause while Jazz actually spoke.
"That was amazin'! An' you just started today? Better communicator than our communicator already!" He cheered.
"Well done, sparkling. You're improving quickly." Prime praised, mouth plate tugging up into an almost-smile.
Harry didn't like Optimus Prime at all, but he wasn't ready to start fighting again. So he gave a grudging blink of acknowledgment before letting Ratchet pull him back against his chest plate.
"How's the security here? Anything we should be watching out for?" Ironhide sobered up as the three other Autobots began exploring the hangar.
"Well, there's no way this base would survive a full-frontal assault. But we already knew that." Optimus peered up at the high ceiling thoughtfully.
"Over than that, this base doesn't have much aerial support or anything to stop tunneling Decepticons."
"So we're sitting ducks from above and below." Ratchet grumbled.
"Hey, at least they're keeping an optic out for strange vehicles now. We can spot em coming from a helluva while away like that." Jazz pointed out.
Ironhide's frown deepened. "These humans can monitor their land vehicles, but not ones capable of flight?"
Optimus switched his attention to the walls next. "Not if they enter the atmosphere from high enough, it's a straight shot from space to here."
"So we gonna need one bot monitoring the skies, which is you, 'Bee." Jazz appointed. "Look out for strange transmissions and all that shit."
Bumblebee saluted. "Aye, aye, captain~"
"I'll monitor seismic activity in the area." Ironhide volunteered.
Prime glanced away from the hanger interior to look at the weapons specialist. "You're not equipped for that kind of sensitivity, at best you'll pick up activity a few feet deeper than human scanners can."
"But-"
"Ratchet, you're on underground duty. Seismic or radar, whatever works best."
"Affirmative."
"So what am I supposed to-" Ironhide cut himself off before he could finish his outburst, dark blue optics wide.
"Oh." He swept his gaze over Ratchet, smugness draping over him like a cloak, "Alright then."
"What?" Ratchet stared uncomprehendingly at both Prime and Ironhide.
"Ironhide will be in charge of caring for the sparkling full-time. When we separate right now, Harry stays with him."
Harry straightened, this was about him? Was he being taken away from Ratchet?
"Come on, little one!" Ironhide chuckled, leaning in and spreading his servos flat and inviting against Ratchet's own.
"Next we can work on your wings."
Harry chirped excitedly, all but springing into Ironhide's servos. Any hesitation he had about letting them remove him from Ratchet flying away.
"You're also in charge of the cube, don't lose it," Prime warned, the nearly-forgotten artifact lay discarded by Ratchet a few feet away.
"Yes, sir!" Ironhide preened, scooping up the cube.
"Prime, why can't I do both? All I'm going to do is a periodic radar check." Ratchet protested.
Optimus looked like he wanted to roll his optics. "I'm not barring you from interacting with the sparkling, but he needs to be a top priority at all times. The Decepticons have already attacked a human base from below so you need to be vigilant."
Ratchet slumped his shoulders. "Affirmative."
He began gloomily poking at the device on his wrist, incomprehensible lights and symbols flashed under his quick digits.
"Okay, Harry." Ironhide regained his attention by raising him to optic-level. "First you're going to work on some wing exercises."
Harry jumped to his peds and immediately set to getting his wings to twitch up and down on will. He wanted to fly! Lord Megatron had started him on wing practices too, would he be surprised if Harry got better while they were apart? Would he praise Harry? Or rub his head like Ratchet did?
"That's the spirit." Ironhide chuckled, but Harry imagined it was a different mech before him, with a rougher voice and violently red optics.
Would Harry impress Lord Megatron like this if he learned to fly? What would he sound like if he were proud of Harry? He'd never had that kind of approval before, the parental pride that Dudley practically drowned just for existing.
If Harry felt warm now, how good would it feel to hear Ironhide's words come from Lord Megatron's vocal processor?
With a wish burning as fiercely as the light in his chest, Harry practiced.
It happened when Harry was dozing in the crook of Ratchet's neck and shoulders. Tuckered out from wing exercises, he'd allowed Ratchet to swipe him from Ironhide and cuddled under their constant gaze. Warm and lulled by the hum of Ratchet's components, he let his optics fall shut and relaxed somewhere in between wakefulness and sleep.
As one, on some hidden cue, every single Autobot shifted to stare at the entrance of the hangar. Even Ratchet, who hadn't moved a single digit since Harry had slumped against his pauldrons, moved ever so slowly.
Nothing happened for a while after that, so Harry relaxed and went back resting lazily on the medical officer. They could be speaking on a private transmission Harry was excluded from, maybe this was some sort of ritual he didn't know about. Either way, it seemed boring.
Then, the quiet tap of footsteps slowly found their way into Harry's helm. Somewhere distant, on the ground and outside of the hangar, people were heading toward them.
A knock resounded once against the wall outside, quick and to the point.
Optimus' thundering steps made their way toward the entrance, everyone else remained still and quiet, their stare unbroken.
"Come in," Prime called.
Harry peeked out sleepily, curious to see what was going on.
What he saw chased every iota of heat from his frame, struck him like a blow and left him dazed. He didn't think he'd ever see the braided scientist again, hadn't realized how much he wanted to never see her again until that moment.
Jacobs accompanied her, a mix of soldiers and people in suits trailing reluctantly behind. She looked just as harsh as before, dark eyes piercing and face unforgivingly severe. The braided woman, on the other hand, had changed drastically since Harry was in her lab.
Her arm was heavily bandaged and hanging limply in a sling, numerous flaring burns decorated her skin followed by ugly dark bruises, a painfully bright mosaic. Underneath the extensive injuries, she was waxen, even her customary braid was limp and disheveled.
Pained eyes behind crooked glasses slowly took in the room before her, unerringly finding their way to Harry, still laying on Ratchet. Any clouded misery cleared as her pupils visibly sharpened into focus, interest surging past pain once she'd spotted Harry in the hangar.
Harry deactivated his optics for a moment, wishing he'd fallen asleep before they got to the hangar. Even heavily wounded, she was still scary.
"Good afternoon," Jacobs greeted tonelessly, "This is Dr. Monroe from Sector Seven, she's here to collect property stolen during the Hoover Dam attack."
The braided woman, who Harry supposed was named Monroe, winced at the reminder. "My apologies for taking so long to reach you, the destruction was...massive and we're only just recovering our operations." Her voice was raspier than Harry remembered it being.
Optimus looked coldly statuesque, optics unblinking. "You are mistaken, we haven't stolen anything that belongs to your people. The cube is a relic from Cy-"
"I was referring to the NBEP-00, I already know you were cleared to possess the cube."
Harry shuddered, he hadn't realized how much he hated that name. It made his plates crawl and his joints ache in memory of those horrible prongs, he pressed himself flatter against Ratchet.
"What the frag is an NBEP?" Jazz scoffed.
Optimus seemed to understand though, for he grew infinitely frostier without moving a single plate. "A child is not property to be stolen."
The other Autobots bristled when they realized exactly what Dr. Monroe was after, Ironhide placed himself in between Ratchet and the others while Ratchet hunched as though to shield Harry from their sight. Both looked murderous.
"The NBEP-00 is not a child, it is an experimental test subject that holds no relation to your species." Dr. Monroe corrected, the glint of her glasses catching in the fluorescent lights.
Harry couldn't bite back a whimper of fear at being referred to as a test subject, it was clear she fully intended to put him back in that box and do whatever she wanted to him. Would she freeze him again too?
-Hush, little one. No one's taking you away from us.- Ratchet transmitted instantaneously, though he remained watchful of the group of humans only a few feet away.
"Harry is a sentient infant of my kind, he was created by Cybertronians on Earth but is still a Cybertronian himself. To experiment on him would be to torture a child. Anathema on our planet." For all that the words he chose were courteous, there was no mistaking the threat in Prime's expression.
Harry cringed, the clear ringing wrong in Prime's words impossible to overlook. He hadn't said anything before for a multitude of reasons, all staked deeply in fear and loneliness, but there was no hiding it now.
Both Lord Megatron and the Autobots had assumed Harry had robot parents, had been born a robot, it was clear to see now. And it was a lie. Harry wasn't normal even by Cybertronian standards, he had been a human boy only a week ago.
He'd let them continue assuming, but it was a lie.
-A-actually…- Harry stuttered weakly.
"No, it's not." Dr. Monroe grinned at Harry, all teeth.
Notes:
Ratchet, internally: Poor dear is so traumatized and sensitive, I need to be gentle.
Harry, the size of a grain of rice with the life experience of an entire weekend, internally: Poor dear is so traumatized and sensitive, I need to be gentle.
*confused but nonetheless aggressive cuddling ensues*
Chapter 7
Summary:
The second act climax of a coming of age movie where the cruel former owner demands their dog be ripped away from the misunderstood preteen lead, despite the unbreakable bond they formed that one crazy summer.
Tonight, the roles of distraught preteen girl and her dog will be performed by Ratchet and Harry respectively.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"No, it's not."
The silence that echoed throughout the partially underground hangar was deafening. Time had frozen over the agonizing seconds Dr. Monroe revealed just how much of a freak Harry truly was, even the beat of cold panic under his spark seemed trapped in the moment without any sign of dissipating.
Imprisoned in that same moment, none of the Autobots reacted either. Staring down at the humans with wide, motionless optics like incredibly elaborate decor pieces.
Hours later, years even, if Harry could tell time by the tension in the air alone, Jazz spoke.
"Heh, you expecting us to believe that kinda bullshit? What- did you make a fragging sparkling out of spare parts lying around?"
No one corrected Jazz's language, barely booting back up, their processors audibly humming on a frequency Harry didn't think he'd be able to hear with human ears.
-She's right.- Harry admitted in a wisp of a transmission, reedy with shame and fear.
All the Autobots received it, they turned to him as one.
Harry flinched away from their burning, infinitely baffled gazes, he pulled his knees up from where they had been pressed greedily against Ratchet.
"No, your Allspark made it with certain...spare parts lying around." Monroe corrected haughtily, pulling an electronic tablet from her entourage to fiddle with.
-What do you mean, little one?- Prime prompted softly, completely ignoring the scientist in favor of roving over Harry's form over and over as if that would grant him the answers he sought.
Harry grimaced under his mouth plate. -I'm not- I-I wasn't- I'm sorry. My parents weren't robots.-
-Did some humans take you in after you were sparked?- Ironhide asked, thinly veiled disbelief in his tone.
-I-I mean, the cube made me like this. I wasn't born like this.- It was hard to get out. Harry hardly understood it, but he knew he wasn't really one of them. A fake without any way to turn back, freaky Harry who looked like a robot but couldn't even do that right.
"Here- this was being investigated in a different department from mine, but with the...drastic loss in personnel, I managed to gather most of their findings. The NBEP-00 was created independently from your kind, the cube made it from mostly human organic materials."
Dr. Monroe interrupted Harry's clumsy confession to hold up the tablet for all to see. In the little glowing screen was a picture of the base of the Allspark.
There was a darkened, sooty stain there, shaped in a curve, with brown flaking smears surrounding the lumpy patch of black. Harry blinked, a little confused.
"What's this supposed to be?" Optimus Prime asked coolly.
"The remains of one Harry James Potter." Monroe shot back.
-W-wha-
"The investigation wasn't complete, but I believe this ten-year-old boy somehow intruded into Sector Seven and touched the cube. This is all that was left of him, but next to this we recovered the NBEP-00, what the cube made out of a human body."
Bumblebee made a retching sound, taking a step back. Ironhide had a similar look of disgust.
"The Allspark wasn't designed like that. It doesn't work like- it certainly wouldn't destroy a sentient lifeform to create another autonomously."
"Wait a nanoclick-" Ratchet plucked Harry from his shoulder to carry him to eye level. Comprehension dawned on his face, followed so swiftly by confusion and incredulity that Harry had no doubt he'd reached the correct conclusion. "Harry-"
-I'm Harry Potter.- He confirmed grimly, splayed in the curve of Ratchet's servos. Completely helpless and filled with nothing but lies, all Harry could do was sit under the Autobots' stare and submit to their condemnation.
"That's impossible," Ironhide huffed, "Organic matter is completely incompatible, the Allspark would have next to nothing to work with."
Optimus stared blankly at Harry. When he spoke, he did so slowly, as though guilty just by following along. "You may not remember, Ironhide, it's been more orns than worth counting since any of us have last seen a sparkling. But...Harry is underdeveloped and sparsely designed, even for a potential seeker."
He stretched out one massive servo toward Harry, digits splayed.
Harry ducked away with a whine, kicking to scoot backward on Ratchet's palm. What would Optimus do? Would he be torn apart just to see what the cube did to every inch of him? Crushed for his omission? Or simply turned over to Monroe and all her experimentation?
None of those things happened, at least at the moment. Optimus didn't move after the noise escaped Harry's vocal processor, melancholy in his optics and indecision on his face.
Finally, he simply pointed at Harry, centered over his chest as he lifted his optics to Ratchet instead.
It didn't escape Harry that Ratchet hadn't tried to soothe him, sending a bolt of true terror through his system, as chilling as the liquid nitrogen they used under the dam.
"I've never seen a Cybertronian with plating so thin you could see their spark through their armor," Optimus continued, "Even during the final days of Cybertron, those few sparklings still functioning had thicker armor by far."
Harry couldn't help it, he hunched over his chest and the light socketed at his center. He'd sort of liked the light when he wasn't actively thinking about how deep it was in his frame, but now whatever protectiveness he felt toward the vital component felt poisoned with his own self-disgust.
Different, ugly, fake in every sense of the word.
"You saying you believe this crazy slagger?" Jazz hissed, offense written clearly in his expression.
Bumblebee added his own thoughts over a transmission. -It...does make sense. He knows next to nothing about us or even himself, plus the Allspark is already behaving oddly around him with the whole piggy-back thing.-
-It's true. I-I was a boy on a tour of the dam and then the...Allspark did something- spoke to me. It told me it would change me for something, and- and then it did.- Harry couldn't hold back a tremor at the memory he tried to hard not to reflect on. The all-encompassing presence pinning him in place like an insect, the burning pain, the voice that wasn't so much a voice as a thunderous sea of intent pressing its wishes into his head.
-And I woke up like this. In a box, and I wasn't me anymore. I don't know what- I don't know how it happened- I'm sorry.-
And he was. He was so, so sorry.
Sorry he was there, sorry the cube had done this to him, sorry the Autobots had ever laid optics on his monstrous body. Sorry he even existed, nothing but a freakish lie of a shell for the freakish boy inside. He'd even tricked Lord Megatron looking as he did, and for what? All that awaited him was experimentation or a life completely and utterly alone. If Ratchet didn't just drop him from his hand right now to smack against the concrete so far below, that is.
-I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so-orry. I'm sorry.- A litany of apologies poured from his mouth plate like a bleeding wound, useless and unsightly but there was no way to stem it. Nothing else to do but say sorry and pray they let him go. -I'm sorry. I'm s-sorry. I'm sorry.-
"Fascinating. Are you all communicating subvocally or through some non-auditory means? I'll have fun figuring out how that works." She actually took the time to start tapping rapidly on the tablet, glancing up a few times as though peering through a microscope, as though looking at moving, talking data.
Even as she spoke to the Autobots, it was blindingly obvious she didn't consider them to be anything but future material for her own experiments. Harry shuddered.
-So...are there really no sparklings left? Did Bumblebee swipe some human's offspring?- Jazz directed toward Prime, though it was universally accessible.
-I'm so confused, does that mean we really are stealing Harry?- Bumblebee said, also staring up beseechingly at Prime.
He didn't answer, didn't even look at them. Prime was instead watching Harry, feature carefully schooled into neutrality.
Once Monroe was finished, she tucked the tablet under an arm. "Now hand over the NBEP-00, you have no claim to federal property. I can't guarantee your treaty will remain intact if I must report your refusal to comply." Dr. Monroe lifted a hand in the Autobots' direction, and it might've looked politely expectant on anyone else. But with sharp teeth, glinting eyes, and ashen skin under the gleam of sweat, the woman looked half delirious with greedr.
And Harry, guilty and undeserving of any pity from the Autobots, couldn't hold back the dark torrent of fear that pressed down so hard on his chest anymore. Weak and miserable and seeing nothing but clear plastic prisons and ice in his future, he started to cry.
They weren't the loud sobs and shrieks that usually escaped his vocal processor unwillingly, he choked them down as best he could. There was no point in crying, no fluttery panic, just dread and fear. He whittled the whimpers down to hiccups and short bursts of high, jagged keens.
-So-sorry- He tried to keep transmitting, but it was near incomprehensible at that point.
Once more, a silence flooded through the hangar, thinning the air of any readable emotion.
Harry bit down on a wheezing cry, muffling it behind his mouth plate, shivers wracked up his frame, the rattling of metal against metal joining his soft cries in the deathly quiet of the room.
Harry was shaking so hard he was nearly dislodged from Ratchet's servos, it was at its very worst under his folded legs. The tremors shook him like a brittle tree in the midst of an earthquake.
But wait, that didn't make sense. Why was he shaking from underneath himself? Why didn't he feel the motion flashing involuntarily throughout his internal system?
Confused, Harry looked down at his shaking servos pressed flat against Ratchet's plating, colorless fluid silver against dark industrial grey. They were clanging against each other, but it wasn't right, it didn't look like it should've. Harry watched for a moment before he realized what was different, it wasn't Harry that was causing it.
Ratchet was trembling.
Startled, Harry's optic flew up to the Autobot's face.
Ratchet was gazing down at him, his own optics round and a glassy light blue, not quite as bright as before. Something was wrong, he looked stunned and almost...empty. A tragic sort of sorrow seemed to consume his entirety.
"I'm waiting." Dr. Monroe reminded the lot of them, and Harry cringed away from her voice. Still, he kept his attention fixed on Ratchet, was he hurt?
A soft, questioning chirp came from Harry, he smoothed his servo over Ratchet's. Far too small to be soothing, but it was all he had.
"Ratchet...it's not…" Jazz sounded strangled.
"I know." Ratchet hissed, more like a wounded animal than an alien robot.
Harry was at a loss, stretched thin on his own fear and misery, but scrambling to find out what was hurting his favorite Autobot so badly. The others seemed affected as well, but it was clearly Ratchet who was taking it the hardest.
Ratchet hadn't comforted Harry when Prime scared him, still kept him a little further out from his body than he usually would. But...how could Harry ignore him? The warmest cuddliest Autobot by far. The one who had given him so much care and consideration when Harry was alone among enemies and kept from Lord Megatron.
Even if it was no longer mutual, Harry wanted Ratchet to smile that awkward smile again.
Slinking an arm around Ratchet's thumb for leverage, Harry reached out to touch the armor of his gauntlet. It was far too big for Harry to hold, glittering with technological dials and sensors and roughly the circumference of a car, so he could only press his servo all the closer and awkwardly hope a little of his own warmth might comfort Ratchet in some way.
His own sobs were coming slower now, reduced to ringing spasms up his throat and stress buzzing in his helm. They were easier to muffle and Harry quieted himself, directing a worried warble toward Ratchet.
Deep, dark wells of sadness looked down on him, roving over his frame slowly, zealously.
"Am I scaring you, little one?" He asked so softly the humans below definitely couldn't catch it.
With the servo Harry wasn't clinging to, he stroked down Harry's helm and spine unsteadily, but lightly enough that the tremors didn't knock him over. "I'm sorry."
-Are you okay?- Harry asked, calm enough to use his comm unit again. With Ratchet anchoring him down, his attention and affection returned, the despair crushing him into nothing was much easier to ignore.
He didn't respond verbally, merely dipping his helm a fraction as he continued stroking Harry like he was the only one tying Ratchet down to sanity and not the other way around.
So alarming was Ratchet's pain that Harry hadn't even noticed Prime's gaze remained steadily locked on him until the titanic Autobot turned back to Dr. Monroe.
There was a purposeful weightiness to the simple movement, as though something had been decided, concluded in that instant. Harry couldn't guess what, though, he could only watch Prime as he spoke with the humans.
"Who are the humans you've brought here? Are any of them your superior?" He asked, rigid and unreadable as a mountainside.
She blinked, arm dropping back to her side. Slowly, the scientist turned to glance at her silent, wide-eyed entourage.
"No," Monroe said slowly, "the team assigned to me comprises of my surviving assistants and peers reassigned to my project with their own regrettably lost to the attack. I remain team leader of this project."
Ice speared into Harry's joints, crystallizing under his plating and freezing him in place. Was Optimus going to give him up now? Was Harry going to be hosed down again, for who knew how long? He gave his own shiver, was this how he was going to die?
-You're not really gonna send Harry back to them, are you?- Bumblebee demanded over transmission, whirring with alarm, -You can't!-
Ratchet...took a step away from Prime and the humans, servos enfolding Harry near lovingly, carefully detaching him from his gauntlet. Ironhide followed the same bizarre pulse, shifting his deadly, hulking frame between Ratchet and the others as a living barrier, now fully blocking Ratchet off from both his comrades and the humans, arms loose at his side.
-Stand down, fraggers.- Jazz hissed, but neither the second-in-command nor the Autobot leader appeared affected by splintering across their unit, completely unruffled.
"Then I will direct this to you, Dr. Monroe, to deliver to your superiors at a later time," Prime continued, optics twin stars, distant and unfeeling.
"Though the NBEP-00 may have been created through organic material from Earth, Cybertron and its people claim it as one of our own. And you'll find that regardless of any scientific interest you and yours may have, you are fiercely outmatched in desire above all else. Deliver to your superiors this question; are they prepared to find different allies to fight alongside them when combating Decepticons? Are they prepared to enter combat against Autobots and Decepticons for the sake of the NBEP-00?"
Never had Prime appeared more alien, huge and unspeakably ancient. The foreign sigils scratched across his armor seemed to shimmer in the dim fluorescent light, the red and blue paint seemed to fade away, the bright colors draining to reveal the strange electric creature waiting just beneath. He stood hulking and timeless over the tiny, squishy humans, utterly still and controlled and different in a way his bipedal form made easier to overlook when he cloaked it in slow and gentle human mannerisms.
There was no gentleness in his face now.
"How much else are you willing to lose over trapping another Cybertronian, huh?" Jazz grinned, a predatory baring of sharp denta. He very purposefully looked over Dr. Monroe and her numerous, painful wounds.
The acrid scent of sweat filled the hangar as the humans below blanched bone white, a few even skittered back behind Jacob's soldiers.
Dr. Monroe recoiled as if bitten, hunching over her bandages. She chewed furiously at her lip for a long moment, greed and self-preservation warring behind her glasses.
"M-my superiors may have been mistaken, they were under the impression Autobots were more honorable than Decepticons. I wonder if you'll remain so obstinant when you face becoming refugees on a hostile. You are outnumbered, a war would exterminate you." She growled eventually.
Jacobs' nostrils flared and she shot Dr. Monroe a glare. "Suggesting the US go to war-"
"Why not? It would be faster than trying to negotiate with an alien species more useful on ice than allowed military space," Monroe didn't take her eyes off Prime, "Continue making outlandish demands and you'll find yourself facing annihilation before you could flee the atmosphere. Only one of us is invested in keeping the NBEP-00 functional, you know."
A wild tempest flared within Prime, his whole body tensed, leaning forward that slightest centimeter. Drawn like the tide, Ironhide, Bumblebee, and Jazz did the same. "Threatening a sparkling-"
"Is completely out of her jurisdiction and not something anyone from Sector Seven has the power to make good on." A man's voice rang out, a clear bell above the abrasive tension of the hangar.
Dr. Monroe whirled around to scowl at the intruder, a dark-eyed man with closely cropped hair and weary lines of exhaustion scoring his face. He was in an American army uniform and closely followed by a stocky black man in similar garb and-
"How did you get in? Nobody's supposed to be here~" Bumblebee belted out in greeting, optics lighting up once those two teenagers from before scuttled in nervously after the soldiers.
"Kids wouldn't stop bugging me about checking up on you, seemed to think one or two Sector Seven goons might try screwing up the treaty." The man sighed grouchily, but the piercing gleam of his eyes centered solely on Monroe gave a different impression.
"Are you even cleared to interfere on this base? Sector Seven is the US' greatest insight on extraterrestrials, I have every reason to be here handling a case of stolen property." Dr. Monroe barked.
"This is Major Lennox, he was promoted just yesterday for his efforts saving the president's life at the dam and securing the outskirts of Tranquility during the fight with the tank Decepticon." Jacobs introduced with a catty twist to her lips.
"The president has also granted me higher clearance on negotiations than they'd ever give to a single Sector Seven scientist," He swaggered in between the scientists and the Autobots, "And I can tell you no one in the higher-ups is eager to lose the Autobots as allies, especially over a pet project related to the one that destroyed most of Sector Seven's main base of operations."
Dr. Monroe went red, lip curling in derision. "What, you think because you got a little tour of the dam you know all there is on our operations? How many 'higher-ups' hold interest in our projects? You don't know a thing."
Lennox made a show of rolling his eyes at Prime, as though sharing in a joke. Prime's pauldrons sank half an inch, though he didn't otherwise react to the disarming behavior.
"All I know is that you're gonna need to hightail it out of here and cry to someone with a higher rank than you if you want to even be brought up during meetings, now get out of here before I report directly to the president about your attempts at sabotage."
Dr. Monroe limped out of the hangar with all the resentful submission of a beaten stray, curled taut with outrage. But not before she looked up, over Prime's shoulder and to Harry, still nestled in Ratchet's servos.
None of the hunger had left her gaze, none of the promise. He knew without a doubt that she would return, as many times as it took to get him back in a box. Silhouetted against the outdoor spotlights, lit only by the shine of her glasses, Dr. Monroe looked like a monster prepared to do her own Harry Hunting.
Then she looked away and disappeared through the door, spell broken. A dozen people in suits trailing timidly behind, so much wanner with their thin backs turned.
"I'll escort Dr. Monroe to the edge of the base, when I return I expect you to have a real explanation for why you've arrived so early, Major Lennox." Jacobs didn't look at Lennox, already headed out herself along with her own straight-faced soldiers.
"Yes, Lieutenant colonel sir." Lennox gave a half-hearted salute that earned him a kick from the black man at his side.
Then it was just the Autobots, those two teenagers, and Lennox and the other soldier in the expansive hangar base, the air seemed thinner with so much aggression falling away so quickly.
-Thank you.- Harry whispered begrudgingly, wings twitching apprehensively on his back as he faced Prime. -I'm sorry I lied.-
He felt like jelly, relief sending weakness through all his joints. Harry had been so sure he was going to leave with Dr. Monroe, positive he'd see the inside of a box regardless of whether any of the Autobots protested or if Lord Megatron eventually saved him. Even now it was difficult convincing all of himself that he was safe and sound with Ratchet still.
"I'm sorry I scared you so, little one," Optimus murmured, turning away from Bumblebee and the teenagers as they chatted rapidly with each other to fully face Harry.
"I meant what I said, regardless of your origin, you are a precious child of my race. And no child should be subject to experimentation."
Harry knew better than to ask questions, but the uncertainty and doubt took control of his vocal processor. -B-but I'm not. One of you, I mean. Why would you want to keep a freak like me around? I'm fake.-
"Because you're not either of those things. You aren't a human any longer, there's nothing false about your appearance. You have as much right to your inheritance as any who walked Cybertron. You are a gift. Why the Allspark chose to change you and how are still mysteries, but your worth is not." Optimus said this all with passionate certainty as if Harry's status could never be in question.
Able and fitting, a gift, the Allspark had once whispered in his ear. For a moment, heat beat like a drum behind his spark. Was this what it had meant?
Harry wasn't sure if it was from curiosity or daring, but he still had to hear more. -You mean all of it? You think I can be a real Cybertronian? Like you? You really still want me?- Harry still thought Optimus was mean, but if he really meant was he was saying, really wanted Harry to stay, would it be so impossible for Lord Megatron to feel the same way?
Something in Optimus softened, though Harry couldn't place what. "Of course I do, Harry. You're a Cybertronian, anyone would be lucky to have you as their charge."
"Impossibly, disgustingly lucky," Ironhide murmured wryly.
"So lucky ya might as well jump in a wormhole and find an untapped energon mine next." Jazz followed with a snort.
Optimus reached out a servo again, slow and careful. The intent was clear on his face, the exact same expression Ratchet wore when he really wanted to cuddle Harry.
This time, Harry didn't flinch away.
"So your full designation is Harry James Potter?"
When Harry tilted his head shyly, Ironhide appeared thoughtful. "Suppose that's why your designation is so weird, it's a human name."
"How old were you before the Allspark...changed you?" Ratchet asked softly, servos outstretched to give Optimus more room to pluck at Harry's wings and rub under his chin. Harry appreciated that the Autobot leader hadn't tried separating him from Ratchet, he still didn't like Optimus, even if his heated digits felt blissful against his stressed and weary frame.
-Er, ten years old. I think I'm still ten?-
"Ratchet already dated your frame to approximately ten deca-cycles, which roughly matches ten Earth years. How strange that the Allspark would make you a sparkling of similar age instead of newly sparked, or even at the developmental equivalent instead of younger." Optimus mused, faceplates set in a surprisingly grim countenance given that he was now petting Harry like a hamster.
"What? Do human sparklings grow up different?" Jazz asked, joining the ring around Harry.
"They only live a single orn," Ratchet laughed, "of course they do. If the world wide web is to be believed, a ten-year-old human is about the same as a sparkling reaching its third frame."
"Then there's your answer. No way the Allspark had enough material for a second frame." Ironhide pointed out, leading to a rumble of agreement.
-This body is younger than me then?- It was hard for Harry to picture what an older version of himself would look like. The robot body he had been placed in was at a similar size and height to his old one- Wait, no that was wrong.
Harry's wings twitched as disgust crawled up his spine. He hadn't been removed from his old body and placed into a new one, like he'd thought when he couldn't stop himself from thinking.
This was his old body, scorched to atoms and then reforged, leaving a ruin of blood and rejected gore against the side of the cube. He hadn't thought there would be a way back, but to know he was completely destroyed…
Optimus tapped a firmer rhythm into his back, filling out a sequence that left him syrupy slow and abruptly more comfortable. A grateful burble came through his mouth plate and Harry wasn't even embarrassed, he wanted to throw away those dark thoughts just as badly.
"It's the same physical age, but Cybertronians develop much slower." Ratchet stared down at him in concern, there was little doubt he'd caught the reaction, "but you don't have to worry about a thing. There's nothing wrong with the way you are now."
Nothing wrong with him, what a thing to say. Harry wasn't sure he'd ever heard that sentiment thrown his way before. Part of him wanted to cling to it with every fiber of his being, the other rejected it so automatically that it wasn't even a conscious decision. He was left wistful, wouldn't it be great if that were true?
"Prime, you've been around the Allspark the longest. Have you ever heard of it transforming an already living creature into a Cybertronian before? Do you think the humans' experiments fragged it up somehow?" Ironhide looked expectantly at Optimus.
Much to Harry's disappointment, Optimus shook his giant helm. "Never, I've never seen it alter a living form. It's only ever granted sparks and the ability to transform to objects without sparks."
-The humans were using it to create protoforms or something like them. It was probably an experiment gone wrong.- Bumblebee shared, only peeling himself away from the teenagers for a moment before returning to whatever conversation they could have while Bumblebee only spoke through radio transmissions. Harry wasn't sure what that was about, but he had no problem not asking the awful Autobot.
"Perhaps it's in the best interests of both Harry and the Allspark if he keeps it then, the former container could be compromised." Optimus cast a suspicious look at the cube sitting quietly beside Ironhide still.
"Not that we were going to separate you two, we would never let you starve." Ratchet reassured.
It was unnecessary, Harry didn't think they would.
For all that he hated being kept from Lord Megatron and resented the Autobots for fighting against him, Lord Megatron had trusted they would care for him and so far they've kept their word. Even defending him from Sector Seven after it was revealed that he wasn't what they believed he was this entire time.
-I know.- He gave the medic a happy pat.
It reminded him of the last time he stretched to touch Ratchet's gauntlet, and he frowned up at him. -You're not hurt, right? You cried earlier...-
"I didn't cry." Ratchet denied immediately, shooting a hard look at Ironhide. When Harry followed the gaze though, the weapons specialist appeared completely innocent, faceplates smooth of any expression.
"I-I just…" Ratchet dimmed, slumping over Harry, "The noises you made- that kind of distress signal isn't normally done by healthy sparklings. Or- or even slightly sick ones. I got a little scared is all, I'm sorry for worrying you."
Harry didn't understand. -What do you mean? I'm not sick.-
"You're right, I was just being silly." Harry thought Ratchet was aiming for a smile, but he looked nauseated instead.
"When you're in distress, little one, don't try to interrupt your own programming. You have protocols designed specifically to alert your caretakers to your distress so that we may help you. Quieting your own distress frequencies usually means you are...incapable of maintaining them." Ironhide explained gravely.
Harry still didn't get it, but whatever they were saying was clearly upsetting them all over again so he stopped pushing. He knew enough, muffling his cries as he did earlier was wrong in some way.
-Okay, I won't do it anymore. I'm sorry.-
Optimus ran a digit over the side of Harry's faceplates, tilting his helm up as he continued trailing his servos gently over the wiring of Harry's throat and gossamer chest plating. He didn't say anything, but his electric blue optics were curved pleasantly and his touch was so soft it bordered on ticklish. It felt almost as though he were saying thank you.
Then, the Autobot leader pulled away, allowing Ratchet to lower his own servos and bring Harry back against the heated metal of his armor.
"Enough with all this downer talking!" Jazz burst out, "Optimus, we haven't even started sparkling-proofing this hangar. You sent Ratchet and Ironhide here to see if this scrap-hole was up to snuff and it ain't. So we're making a list of demands, yeah?"
"Language." Ironhide snapped.
Jazz shot an apologetic look Harry's way. "Right, sorry lil' spark."
Optimus straightened. "Good point, Jazz. As much as some of us might wish it," Every Autobot turned to stare down Ratchet for some reason, Harry mimicked them but couldn't find anything of note on the medic's sheepish face, "Harry can't stay on a heated servo forever. We need to raise the temperature of this hangar by a considerable degree."
This caught Harry's attention, excitement lighting up like a sparkler. -You mean you can warm this place up? It won't be so cold?-
As much as he liked how warm and comforting Ratchet was, he hadn't been able to run in a straight line for a week. Sure he liked cuddling and napping and he'd learned to not let it bother him so much since being locked in his cupboard had the same limits, but he'd love to walk somewhere without feeling the biting chill.
"That's the first thing we'll address," Optimus promised.
"What about a station for stasis? We can use our alt forms but Harry needs somewhere soft. Do humans have nesting material we could use?" Ironhide jammed a thumb in the teenagers' direction.
"Ah, Sam Witwicky and Mikaela Banes. Would you mind answering a few questions?" Optimus called, beckoning the two away from Bumblebee and Lennox.
They exchanged apprehensive looks but approached. The soldiers followed suit, while Bumblebee looked content to just watch from where he was.
"Yeah?" The boy, Sam, asked tremulously.
"How do humans rest during stasis? Is there a place we could get soft nesting material, preferably for children?"
"He means sleep." Ratchet clarified.
-Could I maybe have pillows? Blankets? Those scientists gave me this heated blanket and it was so wonderful. I wish I still had it.- Harry chittered happily. He'd love to have a dog pillow again, bundling himself under the blanket had been his only bid for privacy since leaving Surrey and he dearly wished for it again.
"Er, you mean like a bed? For sleeping in? With a pillow and sheets and stuff?" Sam looked nonplussed.
"Affirmative, and also electric blankets? Those would be convenient for any outings. How difficult would it be to acquire these materials?"
"Do you mean for that little robot? Harry?" Mikaela guessed, craning her head to see Harry from so far below. Harry stared back unsurely, should he greet her or something?
"Affirmative."
"It wouldn't be child-sized, but the barracks on-site should have extra bedding and cots. It would be easy to bring them here." Lennox stepped forward, chest out. "My name is Major Lennox by the way, and this is Sergeant Epps. Lieutenant colonel Jacobs should have told you about us during debriefing, I look forward to working with you all."
The other man, introduced as Epps, gave a stoic salute.
"I am Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots. This is my second in command, Jazz. My weapons specialist, Ironhide. This is Ratchet, my medical officer. And you've already met my scout, Bumblebee." Optimus introduced each Autobot in turn.
"And that one?" Epps jerked his head up in Ratchet's direction, eyes tracing over Harry's silver wings and poisonous green optics curiously.
-Not an Autobot.- Harry mumbled, he didn't want to be included in Optimus' team. He was Lord Megatron's, not theirs. Not even Ratchet's, even though it would be nice if the medic could come with him.
"A child under my care, he remains unaffiliated. Harry, please greet the humans."
Harry gave a short wave, which Epps and Lennox returned bemusedly. Immediately afterward, he ducked out of sight behind the wall of Ratchet's digits, where Optimus couldn't make him keep interacting with them.
"'Kay, so we need heaters, all that nesting material that's on base I guess, what else? Toys? Lil' sparklings dig toys, right?"
-A toy would be nice.- Harry admitted shyly. At Jazz's encouraging 'go-on' motion, Harry continued.
-The scientists gave me puzzles sometimes, those were kind of fun. A-and maybe a ball?-
"You guys should get a TV too, if you're going to stay here for a while. This place is heh, a little on the dull side don't you think? No offense." Sam stammered. Mikaela coughed, the edges of her mouth tugging upward.
"Hell yeah! This place is super boring if we aren't just napping in here all the time. Gotta spice it up for Harry. You want a TV?" Jazz asked Harry eagerly.
Harry shrugged. -I've never really used one. Wasn't allowed to.-
"Are televisions not a form of entertainment meant for children on Earth?" Ironhide asked Lennox, the upper portion of his faceplates shifting lower to convey a stern frown.
"Is Harry speaking to you? I can't hear anything." Lennox shifted to catch a glimpse of Harry from Ratchet's clutches.
"He's talking on a radio frequency or something. Bee can do it too. I don't think he can speak normally." Mikaela explained with a shrug.
"We're working on it, he's already getting better." Ratchet defended.
Before Mikaela could remark on that, Ironhide leaned forward. "The TV, is it not appropriate for children?"
"Th-there are channels and movies that aren't appropriate, no. At least by our standards. But there are also ones that are exclusively for children so it depends on where you look." Lennox explained, startled.
"Okay, we can get a TV. But only with those channels," Ironhide decided, drawing a petulant whine from Bumblebee.
"Yeah, what about us? Harry's not gonna be watching all the time, can't we get some bi- cool entertainment for ourselves?"
"I'll speak with the Lieutenant colonel about getting more than sparkling-grade media channels," Optimus promised with a put-upon sigh.
"You guys are really serious about that...robot kid." Epps noted a little incredulously, "Is this a thing? Is every superior officer I work with gonna be some kid-obsessed family man?"
"Aw, shut up." Lennox hissed, cheeks pink.
Ratchet stepped forward, a pleased look on his face. "Major Lennox, you are knowledgeable on maintaining children on this planet?"
Lennox shuffled, "Well, that's kind of a weird way to put it, but yeah. I've got a daughter, Annabelle." The way his face unconsciously softened and his dark eyes warmed...he must really love his daughter. Harry watched a little enviously.
"Excellent, I look forward to working with you as well." Ratchet decided, glee in his every word.
"Hey, we're children too, I guess. I mean, I don't know anything about Autobot babies and I'm an only child, but there's still stuff. I could always make a trip to Toys-R-Us with some military cash if you need it." Sam volunteered.
"Oh yeah, and I used to babysit." Mikaela looked meaningfully at Lennox as she said this. He rolled his eyes but said nothing.
"That's very generous. But first I must speak with Lieutenant colonel Jacobs to negotiate these improvements, she may have requests of her own." Optimus politely refused.
Ironhide stared balefully at Mikaela, "Yeah, and I was put in charge of watching the sparkling, won't need any help."
"O-oh, right. Sorry."
"Anyway," Lennox gave Ironhide an unimpressed look, "I take it Harry is the NBEP-00? The one the cube made by killing a child? While we're on the subject of requests, I'd like to make sure you've secured the cube to keep that from happening again."
"Oh yeah, Simmons brought that up. Can't believe a kid got that close." Sam eyed the cube, tucked in the corner of the hanger cautiously.
-Don't correct him.- Optimus transmitted to them all. Bumblebee straightened from his slouched position by the entrance, optics drawn back to his unit.
"We've contained the Allspark," Optimus assured, "It is incapable of interacting with its environment as it is now."
Epps clapped his hands together noisily, "Great!" he said, "Keep it that way and we'll have a hell of an easier time making sure the weasels in Sector Seven stay transparent. Hard enough getting them to dole out some good guns to the military never mind any actual data."
"Their strongest argument so far is that you're untrustworthy and we need to secrecy," Lennox explained to the Autobots.
"Like we're gonna trust them to make tactical decisions without question after putting that alien nightmare on ice for decades right next to a huge population without telling anyone." Epps snorted.
Harry blinked, looking up at Ratchet. -Are they talking about Lord Megatron? He's right, those scientists were awful people. You shouldn't trust them.- Harry said vehemently, it was difficult to follow but it seemed like the American military and the lab were working together, even if these soldiers didn't want to. Hopefully, they would stop trusting them, maybe even stop using that awful ice as a weapon against Lord Megatron and the Decepticons while they were at it.
"Okay, Major Lennox, I'd love to hear your explanation." Jacobs strolled back into the hangar, her escort missing.
Optimus stepped forward. "Lieutenant colonel, I would also like to speak with you. Regarding this hangar, my team and I would like to make a few requests."
Jacobs watched Optimus warily, "I see, then let's take this to Major Chen. He and his own men can gather agreed upon...amenities."
Jacobs turned on her heel and went out the way she came, combat boots smacking hard against the concrete flooring. Lennox and Optimus followed after her, not looking back.
Within the hour, a cot had been wheeled in, a folded stack of sheets and pillows resting on top. It was all in greys and dun browns, the fuzzy wool blanket on top the only patch of color as a light sky blue.
Jacobs had refused to heat the entire hangar or provide an electric blanket, but Major Chen brought several space heaters to the Autobots and Jazz placed them strategically to maximize space.
When Major Chen came in with his team to set up all of this, Harry found him to be a short Asian man with cropped hair and a surprisingly soft face. He was immediately kinder than Jacobs, smiling at the Autobots as he entered the hangar and personally depositing a small box of toys by the cot.
"The lieutenant colonel was going to reject the request for an entertainment set as well, but I did some digging and we had a spare cable box anyways." He shared happily, rolling in a second-hand television and a surprisingly angular and expensive-looking purple cable box for Lennox and Mikaela to tinker with.
"This is much appreciated, Major," Prime watched as a little living space rose up in the center of the cold and industrial hangar, "I understand that these would not be considered necessary."
"Well if you really have a kid in here, sounds pretty necessary to me. Not sure about robot children but when I watched my niece for the weekend, the TV became my ultimate weapon."
The television set was placed away from the heaters to avoid being overheated, Bumblebee and Sam clumsily made the bed, and Epps turned on the space heaters.
"Yikes, these are toasty! Are you sure this won't cook him?" He yelped, backing several feet away from the blast of the fans.
"Of course I'm sure," Ratchet was affronted.
"We run hot, bro." Jazz explained, "Earth machines are hot too, right? But Harry don't run yet, he's too little."
For the first time in what might actually be days, Harry's peds would touch the ground.
Ratchet stared down at him in his servos for a long time, his digits kept twitching as though he only wanted to curl them up and cup Harry like a firefly in his grasp.
Harry fluttered his wings excitedly and gave Ratchet a croon of his own, infused with as much reassurance as he could muster. He would be fine, Ratchet looked like he was about to lose all his cuddles but Harry was more than willing to step back onto his servos later.
But first, he wanted to check out his cot and toys.
That tiny smile broke through Ratchet's stern faceplates. "Alright, alright," He hummed a little sadly, and then, with aching care, Harry was lowered to the floor.
Something like vertigo ran through Harry as the cement came up to meet him. He had gotten used to towering over humans taller than himself, seeing the Autobots stretch over him as giants and humans grow to be larger than himself was a little startling.
He clutched onto a digit and leaned forward, wings still fluttering behind him as though catching on the wind.
With the barest rasp, Ratchet's knuckles kissed the floor and Harry swung his legs over the side. His peds dropped to the chilly floor, and he used his hold on Ratchet to reel himself upright, right in front of a pleasantly warm space heater.
Harry withdrew from Ratchet and found himself standing alone, unprotected on the ground in front of the strange humans.
Anxiety quieted his curiosity, but Harry was already too far to go back to Ratchet. Squaring his shoulders under the combined stares of both Autobots and humans alike, Harry toddled a little unsteadily toward his new cot.
With each step, numbers and calculations flew by in innumerable quantities, his peds grew surer as he learned to walk all over again. It was a beautiful novelty, how even as he stretched to his full height, he didn't suffer a chill or icy breeze.
When he reached the bed, he eagerly ran his servos over the cotton and wool, a little rough against his sensitive plating, but still so deliciously warm and pliant. As soon as he pressed his weight into the bed, he wanted to keep going, burrow as deeply into the covers as possible and never come out.
Delighted coos and chirps bubbled up from his chest as he sat down on the bed with a bounce, he had always wanted a bed, they looked so much more comfortable than his mattress under the stairs. And he was right! It was soft and cushioned and far away from any spiders or dust.
"You're not...melting?" Sam asked curiously, he was shiny with sweat even several feet away from the space heaters.
Harry couldn't ignore the teenager without Ratchet for protection, his happy twittering quieted. Still, he tried to be brave and forced himself to shake his head once.
Interaction completed, Harry intentionally twisted himself away from Sam to avoid him.
That brought the small box of toys into his line of sight and even with his mirth tamed, he simply had to see what was inside. Harry strained his neck to peek up at Ratchet, eyes wide and pleading.
-Could I please look at the toys in that box?- He asked.
Ratchet smiled, optics so warm. "Of course, little one."
Needing no further prompting, Harry hopped off the bed and approached the box.
With more reverence than he ever granted Aunt Petunia's fine china, Harry pulled out several puzzle boxes, real puzzles too, not just foam. There were wooden building blocks, plastic cars and planes, and even a baseball. And then, at the very bottom of the box, Harry found books.
A whirr of cheer erupted from his chest as he pulled out three whole books, all brightly colored classics. The very rarest of things to find at the Dursleys and something he liked to squirrel away to his cupboard for entertainment when he was locked away all day.
"He likes books?" Epps mumbled to Lennox, probably not knowing Harry had sharper hearing now.
As long as he didn't need to respond, he didn't mind. Clutching the books to his chest he was about to head back to his new plush bed when he spotted one more plastic plane in the box. It was darkly colored, so he had missed it before.
Harry lifted it up into the light slowly, turning it around in his servo to get a good look. It wasn't a perfect replica, not even close. Too Earthly, with only two wings on a standard slim shape and none of those dark threatening angles and alien weaponry.
He sat back on his bed, placing the books in a neat stack beside him as he ran a digit over the tiny spinning landing wheels and played with the thrusters decorated with little orange circle stickers to represent their blast.
It wasn't the right shape, but it was almost the exact color. Gunmetal grey with darker detailing and black windows. Maybe Harry was just missing him too much, maybe it really was as remarkable as he thought it was. It was still worth cherishing for the reminder alone, though.
Harry hugged the toy close and let the memory of that deep, guttural roar of a voice soothe away some of his insecurities, a near jarringly coarse lullaby.
-Thank you.- He remembered to say, taking great pains to make optic-contact with every single one of the Autobots, barring Bumblebee of course, including Lennox even though he couldn't hear him.
Ironhide translated for him while Ratchet and Jazz accepted his thanks with pride, but Optimus didn't respond, he was watching the toy plane instead, servos clenched.
Did he notice? Harry wasn't sure if he were thrilled or frightened at the notion, but he definitely wasn't willing to part with the shard of presence he'd uncovered in the hangar.
Lord Megatron, he wanted to whisper, stroking the dark wings longingly. Lord Megatron, I'm being good and doing exactly what you wanted. I'm waiting for you.
Harry began flipping through his books, eager to start reading and entertain himself with more than just wing exercises and napping. His grip didn't ease even the slightest on his gunmetal plastic plane.
I'm waiting like you said, so come back for me, okay?
Please come back.
Notes:
HARRY uses Very Quiet Inoffensive Weeping.
...
It was a critical hit!
Chapter 8
Summary:
Harry plays baseball.
Just pretend you can hear Supermassive Black Hole.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"Hey, toss the ball here."
Harry startled from his place beside his cot, sitting on the floor with his blanket bundled over him in a comfortable little shelter. He had been toying with the baseball, rolling it back and forth between his claws.
It should've been rather boring, but it took effort to keep his movements quick without slicing into the leather on accident. The coordination involved also required concentration, sometimes a wall of numbers didn't line up perfectly or he'd slip up on his own internal commands and his arm would neatly and efficiently make a completely different motion from what he wanted. It was overwhelming to be so conscious of every single action he made, he hadn't realized humans were so instinctual and chaotic before he became painstakingly aware of the most minute details, right down to his internal systems.
"Yeah come on, I'll throw it back." Sam encouraged, he had taken to showing up around noon at the base.
Optimus said this was so the Autobots could monitor his safety as an ally known to the Decepticons but it seemed to Harry like it was just an excuse for him, Mikaela, and Bumblebee to spend time together either driving around their allotted space or giggling in the corner of the hanger.
At that moment, he and Mikaela were lounging on Bumblebee's alt form hood, watching whatever movie was playing on the television. Or, at least, they were.
Now Sam was angled away from Mikaela and fully facing Harry, his desert-dusty trainers dangled by Bumblebee's doors.
Harry blinked, this wasn't the first time Sam had tried to interact with him, but it was by far the most direct.
"That's a good idea, it will help develop your coordination." Ironhide approved.
"Yeah, yeah. And, you know, it's more fun than all these commercials." Sam sounded nervous every time he told a joke, speaking quickly with his eyes darting every which way. It actually took until the third day Sam stuck around the hanger for Harry to even pick up on the humor.
Mikaela rolled her eyes, "Speak for yourself, I'd kill for a Shamwow. Cleaning up grease stains is such a bitch."
"Language." Ratchet and Ironhide barked in unison, causing both teenagers to jump.
"Oh, right. Sorry, I meant it's a pain."
Sam raised his hands over his shoulders, palms facing forward. "Did you wanna throw that ball any time soon? I'm not gonna steal it or anything, pretty sure I'd be vaporized."
"Not nearly that quick, boy." Ironhide shot back with a steely edge.
Bumblebee honked loudly, perhaps in protest of Ironhide's threats.
Whether or not the following silence meant they'd chosen not to pursue a fight or had just switched over to a private transmission was anyone's guess, though Harry would like to believe it was the former.
Sam's hands were still up, he must be really serious about the commercials boring him so much. Did he just like playing ball? This was the first time Harry had shown interest in the toy, much more absorbed in his books and tiny toy Lord Megatron.
Of course, tiny toy Lord Megatron was still kept close, it was tucked in the blankets right beside Harry.
Taking furtive glimpses of it from his peripheral, where all he could really see was the near-identical coloring, Harry could almost pretend Lord Megatron was by his side, quiet and watching. It filled him with a wistful mix of confidence and yearning. Enough that he sometimes avoided those glances, enough that he was brave enough to toss the ball over to Sam.
Or, at least, he tried to. The ball sailed far to the left and dropped to the floor before even reaching Bumblebee, it bounced further and further away under their combined stares.
"Oh hey, I got it!" Sam slid off of Bumblebee and raced after it, giving Harry's space heaters a wide berth.
"With any luck, a few games might help develop Sam's coordination too," Mikaela giggled.
"Lord hear our prayer," Bumblebee agreed over his radio, sending Mikaela into further peals of laughter.
Harry watched stonily, he wished Bumblebee would take the teenagers for drives every day they came. Not that he truly disliked the humans, but when they chose to loiter in the base, Bumblebee was even chattier than usual.
Goofy and harmless, just the way Harry had thought he was under the dam. The friendliness had tricked Harry, he'd thought maybe Bumblebee and Lord Megatron could've learned to get along. He had stupidly ignored Lord Megatron's warnings in favor of speaking with the Autobot, and now he was separated.
The way Bumblebee kept the humor up even after stealing Harry just solidified how fake his behavior was in his mind, it was all an act.
"Incoming!"
Harry looked up to find the baseball hurtling toward his head, a streak of white in the shiny grays of the hangar. Harry hadn't even gotten up yet!
Clumsily, Harry tumbled to his knees and straightened out. He reached out to catch the ball with both servos.
Smack!
Harry pressed a servo tight against the sting of his arm, the ball had practically rattled every joint with the force of it. He had no doubt that had his arms been made of flesh instead of silver, there would be a perfect circle of prickling pink from the ball's impact.
Where pain was a blinding buzz as a human, clearing his head of all thoughts, the pain of a Cybertronian was cluttering. Already numbers, windows, inquiries flew by behind his optics.
Hissing with displeasure, Harry shook out his arm and peered around for the ball. After it had hit him, it rolled toward his bed. He couldn't see it anymore, so it had probably rolled into the shadows underneath.
Harry crouched, shifting the blanket out of the way to poke about under his cot when a cold pressure circled his entire body like the talons of a giant hawk. The pressure cinched into a sure grip and he was suddenly lifted up higher, higher, higher still.
The floor fell away at dizzying speeds, dropping far below, cot shrinking to dollhouse scale as he surged among the rafters in an Autobot's palm.
"Ahhh…" Harry gasped, quiet cry muffled further into the digits of the fist wrapped around his spindly frame. The constant rush of movement lurched to a stop, hold tightening just a centimeter further to avoid dislodging Harry with the force of his jarring halt.
A beat passed and then digits uncurled slowly to lay flat and pliant under Harry's weight, a perfectly still platform interrupted only by complex components and delicate plating.
"Does it hurt? Hold still." Harry shuffled further into the center of Ratchet's servo, allowing his vertigo to ease as he turned to peer up at the medic. Ratchet's huge, flat face hung over him, blue optics glittering with worry.
A second later, Ratchet's scanning light splashed against his frame, narrowing to a pinpoint laser over his arm. Harry squirmed uncomfortably, -I'm fine, Ratchet. It doesn't hurt.-
"Of course it does, you practically pinched your fuel tubing. Don't lie, just let me look." Ratched chided, quick and terse.
Ironhide leaned in close, faceplates set in a similar grim worry. "At least his plating held."
-It was just a baseball, I'm fine.- Harry insisted, the throbbing had even tapered off.
"Can you move your arm for me, little one? Like that, in a circle. I need to make sure none of your motor components were dislodged."
-Primus, Ratchet, let the poor spark go. Human sparklings get hit by baseballs all the time and the worst that happens is a few burst organic capillaries. There's no way that toss damaged him.- Bumblebee transmitted with a nearly audible sigh.
"Um, is baseball canceled?" Sam mumbled from somewhere down below, Harry couldn't see him past the giant, worried frown Ratchet was now sporting. He didn't want baseball to be canceled! He hadn't even caught the ball yet, they had only just begun.
Thinking hard, Harry tried his best to convince Ratchet to let him go before Sam would need to go home. Any other time and he wouldn't have minded an impromptu petting session, but he wanted to play!
Widening the lenses of his optics, Harry leaned forward, claws resting on the heated planes of Ratchet's palm. -I'm not lying, Ratchet. It really doesn't hurt.- Harry crooned, wings flaring in and out alongside his growing impatience.
Ratchet visibly melted, optics wandering past him and back down to his well-heated nest.
They stayed there for a moment, Ratchet warring with himself all the while. Harry waited cautiously, hope hinged on his every minute micro-expression.
Finally, "We really need to do something about your armor," He grumbled, digits stroking over Harry in their familiar, soothing way. "Don't know what the Allspark was thinking, making yours so thin."
Harry chirped happily under Ratchet's strokes, applying soft warm pressure in all the right areas. Being able to walk around on his own without freezing was great, but he had missed cuddling with Ratchet during his naps. Especially when Ratchet worried a rhythm into his plating that made him feel like heated pudding.
"Ratchet…" Jazz suddenly spoke from his position at the mouth of the hangar, a warning in his deep rumble of a voice.
"He's not exactly making it easy!" Ratchet finally cut the scanner, reluctance clear in the way his digits fluttered about Harry's arm, as though seeking out hidden hurt.
Harry caught one of Ratchet's wandering digits and the medic was so gentle his captured digit instantly froze, as though truly overpowered by arms thinner than the tubing running through his wrist joint.
He reeled it against his paper-thin chest plate, the shine of his spark bathing the digit in cool blue tones. -I'm really fine, Ratchet. I want to play still.-
He meant to calm Ratchet with another croon, but the noise that barely escaped his mouth plate missed the mark. It sat squarely in his chest and rumbled softly, decidedly too deep for the chirping noises he'd grown used to emitting, but not deep enough to even remotely resemble the growling effect of Lord Megatron's speech.
Embarrassingly, Harry had no control over how long the noise crept through his vocal processor, dragging out far too long in the drafty hanger where everything echoed at the edges.
Ratchet didn't seem to mind though, slowly reeling him into the circle of his arms, his digit drawing the tiniest of swirls against Harry's spark absently. There was a dreamlike quality in the expression on his face now, Harry could almost feel him rock on the tips of his peds.
A flash of electricity shot up his spine like a tickle and a window appeared before him, a wall of numbers that could be both a meaningless series of zeros and ones and information all at once. It was different from his communications engine, it wasn't a window that already existed and would continue to occupy a space in his head even when he wasn't using it.
It was freshly running program, a temporary inquiry, that sprang up for his input and couldn't be ignored like his communications engine.
-G-guardianship system activation request?- Harry parroted in confusion. -Why is it asking for access into my core process-
"Aight, that's enough!" Jazz surged forward in a thunderous racket. In one fluid motion, he plucked Harry from Ratchet's hold and gathered him up in his smaller set of servos. "Primus, Ratchet. Get a damn grip."
Ratchet jerked after them as if he and Harry were tied together by an invisible string. "Wait!"
The noise tumbling out of Harry's mouth plate abruptly ceased upon seeing the distress twisting at Ratchet's faceplates.
"He's fine lil' spark, just overheated." Jazz murmured, distinctly finer, cooler digits smoothing their way over his helm.
"Right? Ratchet?" Ironhide shoulder-checked the medic with a resounding clang.
Ratchet's optics shuttered rapidly, his face falling slack, "Um, right. Right. I'm fine, Harry. It was just…" He trailed off in a daze as clarity swam into place.
Before Harry could ask what had affected the medic, Jazz placed him with painstaking care back onto his cot. He flattened his digits into the slightest of inclines for Harry to slide back onto his warm sheets with a plop.
"There you go," He murmured softly, straightening out his wings with a brush of his hand. "Now go play ball with Sam, he looks bored."
"Better than Bee, I think he actually fell asleep waiting for you guys to stop hovering." Sam snapped, the baseball already in his hand.
Ironhide actually made what could be the Cybertronian equivalent of a snort, gears grinding as he gave the yellow car a sharp kick in the tires. "Don't tell me that's all it took to stall your systems."
Though Harry knew Bumblebee wasn't actually a car, it was odd to see one give a whole-frame shudder on its own. Mikaela hummed in displeasure upon being jostled but didn't move, eyes on whatever movie was playing on the tv.
-...Ugh...Ratchet, I think something's wrong with my energon pump. It should not be directly affected by whatever counts as my parental protocols.-
"Okay, Harry. You ready this time?" Sam called, a great deal less distance between them now with his arm poised for an underhand throw.
Harry quickly shuffled off his bed and nodded his head. He crouched, digits splayed and waiting for the toss.
The conversation continued as transmissions, playing like background noise for Harry as he watched the white blur leave Sam's hand with a dramatic ha!
-Aw, first time ever hearing a sparkling release an optimal status signal, huh? That signal would've been fragging weaponized by now if you could point it in one direction.- Ironhide said.
Harry lunged forward for the ball, but it bounced harmlessly off the ground before him and rolled to the right. He chased after it, the flaps of his wings flaring in excitement as he ran. He hadn't run since before even arriving in America. He was still clumsy and teetering, but the thrill of it didn't wane a single jot.
-Course, it's pretty pathetic when a scout gets overwhelmed by a signal. Especially a scout with one of the flimsiest parental protocols I've ever helped install.-
Eventually, the ball collided with a space heater, giving Harry the time to scoop it up. He spun back to Sam, a grin stretched wide behind his mouth plate as he presented the ball held in his claws.
"I'm open!" The teenager bent his knees like a football player ready to receive.
Jazz came to Bumblebee's defense. -Like you can talk, you bucket of bolts. You didn't move a single component 'til Harry stopped emitting the damned signal.-
Harry aimed carefully, numbers and boxes falling like rain behind his optics as he worked hard at aligning the shot so that it didn't go veering wildly off course. It was like trying to solve a shape puzzle, he only knew what the correct position was after he'd achieved it and tried applying it to the calculated predictions pressing at him to make a perfect toss.
With a swing, the ball flew through the air of the hangar, too high but dropping fast.
Sam lunged to the left, fingertips barely scraping the leather of the ball as it dropped back to the cement. It bounced just the once before he seized it, only a few feet from where Harry had intended it to go.
"Better," Sam huffed, running a hand through his sweaty curls.
-Frag off, at least I was better than Ratchet. Dumb enough to attempt imprinting on a sparkling that already imprinted.-
"Ready?"
Harry whipped his head around from where he had accidentally started watching the Autobots. They were still clustered around Bumblebee's alt form, chatting away about things he was struggling to follow. If he was right, maybe the noise he made was rude? Or at least distracting, and that's what had stunned Ratchet a few minutes ago.
The ball soared again, and this time all Harry had to do was reach out and let it fall into his claws.
Of course, he still missed, at it gave a dull thunk as it smacked into his chest plate before he finally caught it.
His chest plate stung, but Sam wasn't throwing nearly as hard as he had at first so he didn't even bother giving the area attention before curled his hand around the baseball and chirping triumphantly. Even his wings were happy, flapping and clicking noisily behind him.
-See if I fix you up next time a Decepticon smashes your faceplates,- Ratchet snapped back grouchily, -It was automated.-
"Later we can work it out, right now you're talked out. Yeah, whatever you say~" Bumblebee's radio sang passionately.
Ratchet glared poisonously, "Scrapheap."
Harry threw the ball, this time raising his elbow joint a little higher and experimenting with the angle of his wrist.
Sam rocked back on the heels of his trainers to catch the ball as it nearly blew right over his head. His arms pin-wheeled for a moment as he regained his balance, the rubber of his shoes squeaking against the polished cement.
"Starting to feel like I got hustled," The teenager said nervously, which meant that was probably a joke.
Harry warbled in what he hoped was a friendly way, raising his hands invitingly.
The ball was lobbed with another breathy ha! Harry's calculations ran through his helm faster than he could keep up, optics tracking the ball with fierce intensity. It was headed straight for him, he took a single step back and kept his arms low.
This time, Harry caught it.
-I caught it! I caught it! Did you see?- He asked excitedly, whirling to the Autobots. Pride made him feel light and tingly with warmth as he showed them the ball held tightly in his claws.
"Well done, little one!" Ironhide boomed enthusiastically.
Ratchet leaned in, scowl a distant memory in the wake of his beaming smile. "Fantastic catch, your matrix is running phenomenally."
"Knew you could do it," Jazz said firmly.
Bumblebee blared a chime that sounded cheery and was perhaps from a video game, but Harry couldn't place it.
"Even you, Bee? I see who's the favorite now." Sam rolled his eyes before making a face at Mikaela. This finally drew her attention away from the movie as she took in the situation with a pensive look on her face, attention lingering on Sam's hangdog expression.
"Go Harry!" She pumped the air, drawing an indignant squawk from the other teenager.
Harry laughed in bubbly chirrups, a golden glow socketed right next to his spark. The hangar seemed far less empty then, light and easy in the soft gazes of the Autobots and teasing grins of the humans. Harry tossed the ball and Sam lobbed it at Mikaela still snickering on Bumblebee's hood.
She threw the ball back to Harry and he couldn't keep himself from hopping excitedly as he caught it again. He felt as though with one good leap, he would leave the ground and never stop rising.
The game continued on, uproarious whenever Harry caught the ball, which became more often than not, playfully jeering whenever Sam or Mikaela missed, and incomprehensible when Harry tripped or aimed poorly as condolences and advice flooded the room from all corners.
It was tiring, frustrating, and at times stressful, especially when he threw too hard and nearly gave Mikaela a black eye, but Harry couldn't remember having so much fun before.
The next time they came around for their obligatory check-in, Harry didn't think he would mind if Bumblebee didn't take them for another car ride and let them stay in the hangar again.
Harry lay sprawled out on his cot, blankets bunched about his abdomen as he gazed down at the pages of one of his brand new books, thin elbows propping his helm up. It was probably night now, given that Optimus was lounging with Ironhide by the front of the hangar, whispers like a distant thunder.
He wasn't tired, though, he'd taken a long nap earlier and was much more interested in finding out what would happen to the poor field mouse and her sick son within the crisp pages of his fantasy novel. It was so much more fun to read without pulling away from the immersion every five minutes to glance anxiously at the clock, timing his skimming just so to avoid Dudley on his way back down the stairs.
What do you think? Harry silently asked his toy Lord Megatron, the dark grey plane was propped against an elbow. In a fit of whimsy, he had perched the toy just right so it could hang over the open book as well. Do you think she should go to see the Great Owl?
Of course, Lord Megatron might respond, levity in his growling bass, her mission must be accomplished at all costs. Failure is unacceptable.
Hm, Harry mulled it over, probably not. It would be more like, As soon as the threat had been perceived, she should've confronted it head-on like a true guardian. I would've vaporized that tractor before it had the chance to move at all.
Harry giggled to himself, yes, that sounded much more like Lord Megatron. He was the leader of the Decepticons, after all. He could handle scary things all by himself, he was much scarier than an owl could ever be, great or no.
Harry flipped the page, eager to see exactly what the field mouse chose to do. A shadow broke across the cot, however, drawing Harry's attention.
"What's got you cracking up all by yourself, lil' spark? That book really so funny?" Jazz peered down at him curiously, the high points of his helm looking a bit like ears as he cocked his head the tiniest measure to the side.
-Er, not really. I was just playing around with my toy.- Harry transmitted shyly, giving his tiny Lord Megatron a quick glance.
Jazz traced over the plastic plane, optics narrowed and thoughtful. Harry resisted the urge to hide it under the covers as the silence stretched.
"How'd you meet him anyways?" Jazz finally asked, slowly levering himself down onto the ground with a shallow crash of armor against cement.
-What do you mean?-
"How did you meet Megatron? He was a popsicle, right? Did he see you when the Allspark turned you Cybertronian?"
Harry stared, not sure at all where this was going. Jazz had guessed as well that the toy was a surrogate for Lord Megatron, but why would that make him curious?
"Hey, how did a little human get in there anyway?" Jazz continued, expectation plain on his faceplates.
-U-um, the Hoover Dam has tours.- Harry stared down at his book again, processors buzzing, -Me, and Dudley and Aunt Petunia went on one.-
Jazz interrupted his clumsy explanation, "Wait, you got family?" He reeled back, "But- you already imprinted under emergency guardian protocol. The hell does that even work?"
-I don't know. I don't know what that is. But I'd rather be here than with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon again.- Harry shuddered, -They'll be furious with me if I go back, if Uncle Vernon doesn't fetch a shovel as soon as they see m-
Jazz interrupted again, "Hold it, hold it. Go slower, your losing me."
There was a pause as Jazz visibly gathered up Harry had said, "Okay, so you have a family unit. Thought you were an orphan or shit- oh, sorry! Why would your family unit be mad at you? And sparkling bonds are damn near unbreakable, you can't just not wanna see your family unit." He waved at the plastic plane like this proved his point, "Did you not have time to imprint after your human creators died?"
Harry bristled, heaving himself upright to clutch his toy close and face Jazz upfront. -Well, I don't want to see them, Lord Megatron is my family now. My parents died when I was a year old and Lord Megatron is the kindest person to speak to me since.-
Jazz stared down at him, optics utterly uncomprehending. Harry scowled back, was it really so awful that he didn't want to be with the Dursleys anymore? Was he really so cold and ungrateful for not wanting to see what would happen if he showed up looking like a robotic freak? Harry hated how confused the second-in-command was, because it was genuine confusion. Because it made Harry seriously wonder if he was doing something selfish by not asking to speak with them.
He was scared, he was so scared of what they'd do. He hunched over tiny Lord Megatron, hurting with how badly he wanted the real one instead. The one who'd protect him from Uncle Vernon, who'd tell him that Aunt Petunia's sneers meant nothing. He would, wouldn't he?
"Aw, don't do that," Jazz leaned back in, humming tones of comfort, "I'm sorry, lil' spark. Didn't mean to upset you."
-I'm not upset.- Harry protested.
Jazz nodded seriously, not petting him, but cranking the volume up on that alien lullaby that eased the grip he held on toy Lord Megatron. "Course not, you're a tough lil' bot."
Pressed giant palms into the floor, Jazz relaxed with a disarming exhale of his ventilation. Harry unconsciously mimicked him, uncoiling as the fear and stress sank a little further back into the corner of his central processors he didn't touch.
"So would you mind telling me how this all went down? I wanna understand, what happened from the day you got to that dam to now?" He asked light-heartedly, but Harry was still suspicious.
-You're not going to interrupt?-
"Heh, I promise. I promise."
Harry studied his expression, he still didn't know where all this curiosity had come from. All this because he favored a toy in Lord Megatron's colors?
But then, Harry reconsidered, maybe he was finally reaching the Autobots. Maybe this was his opportunity to convince them that he belonged with Lord Megatron? Jazz wanted his point of view, so Harry could finally explain how good Lord Megatron was without being corrected or abandoned.
-Lord Megatron and I didn't see each other until after the Allspark had changed me, I don't know exactly when. I couldn't tell how much time had passed.- Harry began slowly. -Aunt Petunia wanted to go to the tour and brought Dudley, my cousin. She didn't trust me alone in the hotel room, so I went with them.-
Jazz clearly wanted to interrupt, he squinted and glowered. But he didn't say anything, so Harry took a guess that he wanted to know why they didn't trust him alone.
-She and Uncle Vernon are always suspicious about me, they think I'll end up a hoodlum, like my dad. An' Dudley blames me for things he did so...it happens all the time, that's not important.- He dismissed.
-Anyways, during the tour, I started to...hear something. The Allspark was calling me, it was so weird. I can't describe it.- He absently rubbed over his spark, where he knew the Allspark slept in the space it had made itself.
-The lab wasn't part of the tour, I followed the call down vents and into restricted areas. And- and then I saw it.-
Unspeakably large, ageless and reverently carved in sigils Harry couldn't hope to understand. It had felt sacred even before Harry knew it was some sort of Cybertronian relic.
-And I touched it. And it spoke to me, told me what it would do. And then it changed me.-
Harry didn't repeat those words, didn't want to. They had been terrifying, they had been selfish in what they'd stolen from him, but he didn't want to share them.
-I woke up in a glass case surrounded by guards...and those scientists...and I was alone with them in that box. Not-not too long, couldn't have been more than a few days. It hurt, a lot. I didn't know what was going on, or why.- Harry didn't want to talk about that part, a despairing limbo in which he had been completely alone. -There was no one there, the scientists didn't even think I could speak.-
-But finally, Lord Megatron communicated with me.- A balm for every stinging hurt delivered to him, a comfort when all he could see was darkness ahead of him.
-He taught me to use my comm unit, what a designation was, what everything was. He was concerned for me, he wanted to know how I felt, he wanted to help me. Even when he couldn't move, he wanted to help.-
Harry stared up at Jazz, optics firm, affection blooming fiercely in his chest.
-I was moved into a box next to him, and he took care for me for the next few days. Answered all my questions, started me on wing exercises. He promised he'd protect me, and we'd talk about what we'd do once we escaped together.- Harry looked back down, swallowing hard, -Always together.-
Jazz remained silent, a little more somber now in the lines of his pauldrons and curve of his spine.
-He promised he'd stop the scientists from hurting me, promised he'd punish them for freezing me, for cutting me and- and...all those things. And he did! Dr. Monroe said it, he destroyed everything after he escaped, for me. Just like he promised.- Could Jazz see now? The care Lord Megatron wielded just under the cloak of his cruelty?
-I don't know how much time passed while we were in the lab. A week, maybe? But then Bumblebee was brought in. Lord Megatron didn't want to trust him, wanted to leave him behind. I didn't listen and spoke with him, encouraged them to speak with each other. I thought- Harry thought he could feel his denta bare under his mouth plate, a bolt of fury and betrayal striking through him. -I thought he could be trusted, he wanted to be friends. He was so nice. But then he took me and left Lord Megatron behind, I couldn't do anything to stop him. I should've obeyed Lord Megatron, if Bumblebee hadn't known I was there, I would've gone with Lord Megatron.-
-Then he took me to you all, and-and you're not bad.- Harry knew they were trying, from toys to games to fussing, the Autobots cared. -But I miss him, we were supposed to get out together.-
Harry looked down at his toy, smoothing a claw over the dark windows. He'd trade all the things the Autobots had given him, down to the space heaters, if it meant he could be with the real thing.
Jazz lifted a servo from the cement, slowly plucking at his blanket until it was wrapped around him, and then he scooped Harry up with it. Tucked like a burrito, Harry was leaned at a comfortable incline against Jazz's thrumming chest plate, those comforting frequencies vibrating like a lovely roar. Harry went limp, soaking up the comfort as best he could. He wasn't going to cry again, even if he wanted to.
"I'm sorry, Harry." Jazz murmured, petting over his helm. "Course you miss him, made you feel safe, didn't he?"
Harry wasn't going to cry, even if he wanted to.
Harry pressed against him, servos clenching in the blanket. He nodded into Jazz's plating, the mech was right. He missed Lord Megatron and his unshakeable sense of security, he'd only had the briefest taste of it at the lab and now it felt like he'd be stressed and scared about one thing or another for the rest of his life.
Hugged so tight, reminiscent of the way he squeezed toy Lord Megatron to himself but so much more delicately, Jazz hummed louder into his audio processors. "I saw what page you were on, I can read it to you if you want. Tell you a story in return."
Harry, he'd been read to before, by preschool teachers and during the occasional lecture. But not in the way Jazz was offering, quiet and soft in the barest murmur Harry could glean after bedtime in the cramped space under the stairs, echoing through the floorboards as Aunt Petunia entertained Dudley before he slept.
Greedy for the experience, Harry buried his face against Jazz and nodded again.
Jazz wasn't Lord Megatron, he didn't inspire that same sense of safety. He wasn't a replacement and Harry didn't want any of the Autobots to be that. But he still nodded off in contentment as Jazz narrated the book in gentle tones, detailing how the field mouse heard of the rats in the rose bush.
"Nearly there, you're relying too hard on the processor itself. Check how you're decompressing those pitch commands."
"Aahhhwwwww!"
"Sounds like yer focusin' too much on yer glossa, leave it be when yeh start."
"Ahhooooowwwww!"
"You're so close! Frag, Bumblebee, I'd be embarrassed if I were you. He's leaving you in his exhaust trail."
"Language, Ironhide."
"Sorry, Prime!"
"Aooowwwwww!"
-Language, Ironhide. Tsk tsk.-
"What's that? I can't hear you with Harry on my shoulder like this."
-...That was low….-
-Should I move?- Harry glanced anxiously up at Ironhide.
The weapons specialist had suggested they continue practicing to speak, this time focusing on another vowel. Harry had been delighted, he wanted so badly to speak again. Just because he was getting used to making bizarre electronic and bird-like noises whenever his body felt like it didn't mean he had gotten used to being essentially mute.
Ironhide had even been nice enough to place him on a heated pauldron, closer to his auditory receptors and just this side of cuddly when Harry pressed himself against the glinting line of Ironhide's neck.
Harry wanted to stay there, it was comfier than it looked and he delighted in the way Ironhide would every so slightly tilt his head and scrape the thinnest of paneling on his chin over Harry's helm like a giant missile-proof cat. But if he was being a nuisance then he'd much rather go back to his cot and practice on the ground, away from pets and massages.
"Course not, I want to hear you over that virus-riddled gearhead." Ironhide denied, gently nuzzling Harry a little bit closer, until he was fully slumped against the most vulnerable portion of Ironhide's throat, pressed right against the vibration of his vocal processor.
"Now try it again. Like this, ohhhhhh!"
"Aaaaoooooooh!"
"Message from Starfleet, captain." Bumblebee suddenly transformed from his alt mode, baby blue optics searing in their abrupt grimness.
-We've got company.-
The hangar was immediately drained of laughter, the bleached grays of the cement seemed to leach the very warmth from the air. Every Autobot was now facing Bumblebee, the nearly inaudible whining pitch of weapons activating the only noise to echo through the rafters.
"What do you mean?" Optimus finally asked flatly.
-I'm picking up some chatter, but it's encrypted. The source is coming in hot.-
"Where is it goin'?"Jazz demanded, "Is the slagger shootin' for us?"
-Negative. With the trajectory it has now, it'll probably land in the Pacific Ocean. At least a cycle off.-
"Do ya think they're gonna try tunnelin' under that deep?"
Optimus shook his helm thoughtfully, a new piercing sharpness to his gaze. "No, sinking to the ocean floor would crush them from that far out. Perhaps they're attempting to avoid detection through seismic activity from their impact upon landing?"
"Only a Decepti-creep would be that fraggin' glitched, I swear to Primus."
"Language!" Ironhide snapped.
"Sorry, Harry," Jazz said, tone abruptly softening. This lull in conversation gave Harry his opening into their fast-paced deductions, he scooted forward on Ironhide's pauldron.
-Wait,- Harry blinked, -You're going to attack them? But aren't they just landing?-
They were talking about a Decepticon, right? He knew his temporary guardians were the enemies of the Decepticons but were they really going to hunt the poor Cybertronian down just because they could?
"Little one," Optimus leaning into Ironhide's space so Harry wasn't craning his neck to make optic-contact. "Why do you think this Decepticon is landing here? Already communicating with the others? There are billions of planets in the universe, they picked this one in order to fight us."
Harry hated the way Optimus spoke, like a teacher lecturing in something Harry didn't understand. All expectations and half-explained thoughts, as if Harry should already know the rest.
-I don't- You don't know for sure. Did you land here just to fight Lord Megatron? They have the same right to be here as you do!-
There was an awkward pause, a note that skipped over Harry as Optimus blinked slowly down at him. Harry suspected one of the other Autobots was deliberately speaking to their leader on a transmission Harry hadn't been included in.
He straightened, somber regret etched into his faceplates. "We will discuss this later, little one. Unfortunately, I don't have the time to answer all your questions."
Before Harry could protest further, Major Lennox appeared in a cacophony of harsh booted steps and clinking gear, several soldiers including Epps at his back.
"We've got a UFO headed right for us, do you have any intel?" He barked, straight to the point, shoulders squared aggressively.
"We have strong reason to believe it's a Decepticon. As of right now, it is set to land three-thousand miles west from this base."
"Shit. Okay," Lennox's eyes, mere dots of sapphire from Harry's perspective, roved over the Autobots calculatingly.
"That's still in American waters, we'll pull out ASAP. Who's coming?"
"Prime, me, Bee, and Ratchet." Jazz tallied off.
Epps stepped forward, brow furrowed, "You don't wanna bring big, mean, killin' machine over there with you?" He gestured at Ironhide incredulously, attention clearly fixed on his bulky cannons.
Sitting on his pauldron as Harry was, he couldn't see his expression, but Harry didn't need to guess that the weapons specialist was feeling pleased about garnering such an appraisal. He's fairly certain he rose an inch higher into the air with the way Ironhide was preening.
"Sorry, I'm on sparkling duty. I'll serve as backup should anything get past Prime's unit."
"We don't have time for this, the Decepticon is already getting a head start as it is. We must pursue." Optimus urged, stepping forward with his own selected team following in tandem.
Lennox nodded, features icing over. "Got it, follow me. I'll get some transport together, we'll be in the air within ten minutes."
Harry didn't want them to hurt the poor unsuspecting Decepticon, ganging up on them as if they owned Earth. It was no better than Dudley in a sandbox with other children, and he hoped whoever was landed got away in time. It would be great if Lord Megatron had more friends to help keep him safe.
But...seeing their backs turn, the blinding sunlight bathing the Autobots in silhouette, something in Harry's abdomen squirmed nervously. Anxiety crawled under his plating, he didn't want them to go either!
Why did they have to go fight anyways? Anger warred with worry in his increasingly tight helm, it was stupid. He wanted them to turn right back around and come back, leave each other alone.
"Don't worry, Harry," Ironhide growled comfortingly in his audio receptor, "They'll be fine."
-They shouldn't fight.- Harry scowled after them, stubbornly squashing his fear to fan his irritation.
"Believe me, little one, they don't want to fight either." Ironhide sighed, ventilation fans whirring in his chest cavity.
Harry folded his arms sulkily against his chest plate. -Then they shouldn't! Optimus should just leave the Decepticons alone.-
"It's a bit more complicated than that, but I don't think now's the time for a history lesson." Ironhide gently tucked Harry into the curve of his palm and lowered Harry slowly to his cot. The little black tv remote that had been sitting by Bumblebee's alt form was then dispensed into his lap.
"Watch one of those non-holo vid things, it'll keep your processors off things. You'll be fine, I promise." There was so much unspoken affection in Ironhide's gaze, it was foreign and thrilling and far too effective in cooling Harry's temper. He couldn't deny the mech's sincere attempts at calming him down, and carefully turned on the tv with digits that ended in fine points. He didn't want to pierce the rubber of the buttons, already his baseball was full of pinpricks despite his best efforts.
There wasn't anything he could do, as much as it stung. He couldn't warn the poor Decepticon, he couldn't ask Lord Megatron to help, he couldn't even stop the Autobots. He was useless without even chores to take his mind off things.
So, with nothing else to do, anger and worry tumbling just beneath the surface, Harry switched the channel until he came across bright cartoons that he supposed were meant for children his age.
It wasn't nearly as fun as catch with Sam and Mikaela or practicing his speech with the Autobots, but it would do. He pulled his toy Lord Megatron off his pillow to wrap himself around it, pressing the plastic against his own clicking armor as tightly as he could without breaking it.
Ironhide looked away, shifting to face the door like a sentry as the tv's squeaky babbling made a hollow attempt at replacing the Autobots' usual clammer.
"Considering the Decepticon's trajectory, we're most likely dealing with a seeker." The red semi truck announced from its place at the front of the cargo hold.
"A plane, right?" Lennox wished he'd triple-checked his notes now. The Autobots had been pretty forthcoming about their enemies, but it was a whole lot of unfamiliar words to sort through during any given discussion.
"Yeah, that or the fragger's gonna try sinking to avoid detection. So break out your most pimped out airforce and naval shit." Jazz added, not even bothering to repress the eager edge in his voice. For some reason, Lennox thought their voices would be tinnier in their car disguises, like speaking through a radio or from behind their hoods.
Epps waved him off, "We've already alerted our Hawaiian forces, we'll have plenty of air support."
"It's storming over there, though. Naval is having a rough time of it, but that means we can keep civilians out of the way easier. So don't hold back when we deploy." Lennox instructed, yanking the straps of his pack tighter for the fifth time since boarding, a nervous habit his drill sergeant could never break him of.
"Probably a good thing. You saw what these suckers can do in Qatar, like hell we need one punching a hole into one of our ships." Epps added grimly.
It had only been a scant handful of weeks since Lennox, Epps, and the surviving remnants of his team had been pulled out of the longest chase of their lives, weary, stumbling steps dogged endlessly by the tireless machine pursuit of their predator.
That robot, Scorponok as Optimus Prime helpfully identified him during a briefing, had made it easy to support the Autobots. Anyone, anything that could stop the utter destruction that Decepticons left in their wake were worth snatching up with both hands if only to keep his men alive.
As if hearing this thought, Prime spoke, "We will provide a distraction so that your ships may avoid direct fire." His promise a balm to the burning apprehension raked over Epps' face. His teammate's shoulders relaxed with a breath and his expression firmed.
"And you'll have aerial support to keep your asses out of trouble."
Lennox leaned forward onto the tops of his knees, brushing against Epps as he did so. Now that he had all the variables, it was time to nail down a concrete plan for the Autobots to follow. It was vital that this work, not just for the future of national relations with the Autobots, but for the fate of his country as well.
The Autobots were in the form of expressionless, ordinary cars and trucks, but the abrupt heaviness of the air around him made it clear he'd gotten their attention.
"Once the naval forces arrive, they'll be designated to long range and island defense. Aerial will provide support for both naval and offense. You'll be part of offense along with some of my men, but keep in communication and we'll play fast and loose with strategy so long as the job gets done. Island integrity and civilian populations are our number one priority. The second highest is extermination or capture of the target, whatever happens first." He spoke quickly, confidently, slipping into the skin of a major to hide the nerves crawling just underneath.
"My medical officer Ratchet was brought to detect Decepticon activity, he is not specialized for close-range combat. I suggest he be placed with your naval defense rather than with our team." Was Prime's response, a little too slow to be considered obnoxiously immediate, a little too fast to be truly thoughtful.
"Alright, but he needs to be discreet. Ratchet will be placed on the shoreline and is not cleared to engage unless shoreline naval forces are cleared or he engages offshore." Lennox bargains like a good major does. But even he knows that if push comes to shove, he'll take broken rules over a failed objective any day. If Ratchet gets a clear shot from the shoreline, he won't have a problem burying it under paperwork before it ever gets to the higher ups.
"Hell yeah, that bitch ain't gonna know what hit em," Jazz revved, the porsche actually shifted on its wheels like a kid hopping excitedly from leg to leg.
"Hell yeah," Epps echoed, a bemused quirk to his lips. He exchanged a look with Lennox in a burst of good humor, before allowing it to fall away as the cargo hold quieted.
In four hours, they were going to kill a Decepticon, failure was not an option.
Several episodes had gone by in a reel of loud colors and fast movement that naturally drew the eye. Harry watched with begrudging interest as the story continued from where ever he had unceremoniously dropped in.
A particularly dizzying fight scene played out, with dramatic declarations from either opponent and bright light and sound effects ringing out whenever they connected. Harry wasn't sure who would win, and leaned closer in anticipation. He didn't know either character past their names and catchphrases, but he hoped the good guy one, his team was counting on him.
Distracted as he was, he didn't notice the subtitles under the battle was over and the bad guy was soundly defeated.
"Ah," Harry mumbled in surprise, optics finally trailing down far enough to see the dialogue slowly crawling across the bottom of the screen.
Ironhide shifted for the very first time since placing himself before the entrance like a living gate. "What? Is something wrong?"
-No, the subtitles are on is all. Maybe I accidentally hit something.- Harry explained, casting a speculative glance to the remote in his lap. There weren't any buttons that said subtitles, and that was about as far as Harry's problem solving could go when it came to machines.
Ironhide relaxed, slowly turning back to his original position. "Oh, don't worry about it. I'll get a human to fix it later."
Chirping in thanks, Harry disregarded the subtitles and let the next episode run, goofy and stuffed with jokes that drew the occasional giggle. Every now and then he'd glance down without meaning to and read the dialogue being spoken at the same time.
Until it wasn't.
DON'T REACT.
Harry stared, that's not what the character had said.
The words flashed again, DON'T REACT. Harry leaned forward again, was there a glitch or something?
DO NOT ALERT THE AUTOBOT MOVE YOUR PED TO ACKNOWLEDGE THIS INSTRUCTION.
Harry glanced at Ironhide's back, he was taking his guarding duty very seriously. Why wasn't he wasn't allowed to talk to him? Was it okay to hide things from the mech? He could get in trouble, this could be some sort of trick.
Guilt and confusion had him curling around his toy plane, it was probably a bad idea to listen to a tv, they weren't supposed to be able to talk. Something was definitely wrong.
Still, Harry turned back to the screen, curiosity burning. He shifted a ped in a manner he hoped looked casual.
The subtitles disappeared for a moment, completely incongruous to the characters shouting at each other on screen. Harry stared, completely frozen. What had he done? What had happened?
Then, GREETINGS SPARKLING I AM DESIGNATION FRENZY DECEPTICON SPY UNDER LORD MEGATRON'S COMMAND
Unbidden, Harry's vents hitched.
LONG LIVE LORD MEGATRON
Notes:
Harry, a ten year old who doesn't know his family situation was abusive: I feel like...we're missing something.
Jazz, an alien robot from a culture with no indigenous concept of child abuse: I agree. But what could it be?
Both: shrug
Their group therapy leader: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Chapter 9
Summary:
The chapter I wrote after being hit by a car.
Alternatively, the chapter in which Starscream and Thundercracker run away together.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Thundercracker hurtled toward the alien planet like a comet, his vision streaked with fire as he punched through the thick, oxygen-rich atmosphere with the stars framed behind his wings.
-Right on target.- He broadcasted through his trine channel. His touchdown coordinates were coming in fast, even as the area appeared an indistinguishable mass of roiling saltwater far below.
His wiring already prickled, knowing he'd be submerged in that ocean for half a solar cycle upon successfully escaping the armada waiting for him.
-Acknowledged, be prepared to take evasive measures. Mission priority takes precedence over your survival, I will only engage in stealth or to ensure success. Take caution.- Starscream responded from somewhere nearby, hidden on the tiny colonized island close to his touchdown target.
His clipped reminder did nothing to hide the anxiety Thundercracker could practically feel wafting off the other seeker even from a distance.
But Thundercracker wasn't a part of one of the last surviving seeker trines for nothing, and Starscream would do well to remember that. -Affirmative, I'll see you at headquarters. Long live Lord Megatron.-
Starscream echoed the battle cry back to him, still subdued enough that Thundercracker was going to give him a good kick next time he saw his trinemate, but he couldn't think about it now.
He'd breached the black, flooded clouds, dipping under a curtain of rain and into fiercely buffeting winds.
His wings strained as he began to weave against the chilled air currents, his cargo digging claws into his frame as he dodged primitive human gunfire and bright Cybertronian light blasts alike in a struggle to reach the water's surface.
Already he could tell the ocean would be no less chaotic, but that was the point. It would be far harder to evade capture if the grounders and humans could see and pursue his cargo with the same ease as dry terrain, after all.
In Thundercracker's dizzying spins, he could spot a splash of bright red and blue among the human's dull warcrafts. In another elaborate twist, he could feel the scorching heat of Jazz's rapidfire blasts brush by his thrusters, singing the paint.
In a moment of weakness he instantly resented, Thundercracker flinched away from his touchdown. He was an ancient, high class Decepticon military officer, but he wasn't crazy. One mistake in a battle among war legends and there wouldn't be enough left of him to power a comm unit.
"Get ready to deploy!" He shouted above the winds, straightening out his flight path and gritting his denta as bullets peppered his hull.
The water was rising up to meet him fast, pain chased after him in blinding pulses as a blast struck true and his thruster coughed billowing smoke.
If he survived this, he was demanding a promotion. No way was Barricade gonna outrank him when all he-
Time was running out too quickly to manage, "Deploy!" He bellowed mere seconds before slamming into the water at shattering speeds.
It was enough to put a crack in his cockpit window as he plunged nose first into the black depths of the alien ocean. It would've certainly dented Soundwave's precious cassetticons if they had taken even a second longer to detach from his frame and fling themselves away in the cloak of seaspray.
-Divert attention.- was Laserbeak's cold farewell. Without a second-glance, the two jetted off together in the direction of the mainland.
-Frag off.- Thundercracker knew his orders, he was already turning around and sending a missile straight for the closest human ship.
So strong were the raging currents, it veered off course and hit the very back of the ship, sinking the vessel but leaving far too many survivors. Another blast clipped his shoulder, they'd found his heat signature again.
Thundercracker stayed underwater, propelling himself through the thick, turbulent waters to send his own barrage up at the sky where he got Cybertronian heat signatures.
He thought he'd spotted a crude human aerial craft during his descent, there weren't any Autobot seekers in the reports he'd received before touchdown so they were most likely there if not on the ships.
Sure enough, embers and scrap metal sank past him and to the ocean floor from a direct hit, and he was ready for the eruption of bubbles and red-hot searing Cybertronian weaponry that flashed before his optics.
Silver paint and immediate, rabbiting gunfire made it clear Prime hadn't been the one to engage, and confidence surged in Thundercracker's tubing.
Jazz, he could probably take Jazz.
He dodged, streamlined frame providing greater speed than the grounder, and launched a spray from his own lightweight rotary cannon. He didn't stop moving, circling around the Autobot to send a missile at his back.
So dark were the waters, all he could see without infrared was streaks of light as his attacks flew right past the agile mech. In elaborate twists he couldn't see but knew were happening, Jazz didn't waste a moment, keeping his short-range blaster steady as his return fire bit at Thundercracker's flaps.
-Status report.- Starscream suddenly interrupted, and this time Thundercracker couldn't bite back a gargled yelp as Jazz struck again and caught his side in a flurry of shots.
-Shut up!- Thundercracker hissed as he tried to make even tighter turns, setting missile after missile on his opponent.
-Prime is fishing humans out of the water, just finish the fight and- Dodge! Enemy fire coming on your right!-
Thundercracker dove away as best he could, side burning, as beam cut right through waves and very nearly sliced the tips off his wings.
Frag, frag! He could do this. So long as Prime was distracted he could do this.
-There's an Autobot near the island, he's got you on lock, evasive maneuvers-
-Shut up!- Thundercracker couldn't concentrate on the other Autobot, not while Jazz wasn't even slowing down. He was taking damage- Thundercracker could see the debris, but it wasn't enough.
Thundercracker was built for stealth, he was lean and swift. Going ped to ped with a short-range specialist was his very function. Even if that specialist was Prime's fierce second-in-command, it was doable. He wouldn't have lasted longer than nearly every other Cybertronian of his specs if he couldn't keep up.
Underwater, where his missiles were only so hard-hitting? Unable to pull back too far and risk drawing attention to the cassetticons? With a long-range bot on his tail? This was becoming a test of endurance and his light plating wasn't doing him any favors.
-Ravage and Laserbeak have reported to Soundwave, they escaped detection and are headed to the mainland. Operation Eject was a success.- Lord Megatron's mass-announcement rang through his head, pleased and powerful.
Thundercracker felt a thrill, he'd put that note in his leader's transmission. He'd succeeded, now he just needed to-
-Thundercracker was terminated ensuring the mission's success. He will be posthumously promoted for his loyalty to the Decepticon cause and with our victory, he shall be avenged. If you are receiving this transmission your next orders will be to pull back an-
In his shock, he didn't see the well-aimed blast in time to bank away. Agony drowned his processor in errors and he could only scream as his rotary cannon was gouged out of him, clouding the waters around him a poisonously bright energon-blue.
He spun in the throes of a current, the light so weak he couldn't tell where the surface was anymore, the only point of reference was Jazz's infrared shape honing in on him. If he got his servos on Thundercracker, he was-
-Thundercracker!- Starscream screeched over their trinechannel, and he could hear the faintest echoes of Skywarp's distress along that same line, but it was too late.
All he had were a sparse few missiles, a dagger that wouldn't do shit against Prime's axe, and a failing tracking system.
Jazz was advancing, slow but steady as he prepared to finish the fight. Lord Megatron had already left him for dead and it was too late to even prove him wrong.
He sent two missiles to muddle the waters and urged his thrusters to get himself away, anything to prolong the inevitable.
But he could also see another burst of bubbles somewhere high and to the left, near the weak light of what had to be the surface, was that Prime?
He still had his speed, but practically unarmed and bleeding as he was, even he could see the end coming. Frag, frag, surviving so many brutal fights only to die on a glorified delivery run? The injustice was nearly enough to make him retch.
Aiming his sights on Prime, he prepared to at least make them work for it. He'd put a scar in Prime's precious armor, he'd set a hitch in Jazz's joints- something- anything to mark himself by.
-I fully expect you two to avenge me.- He sent to his trinemates.
Then Thundercracker fired.
The blinding explosion that pulsed through the water at that moment blew the entire battle off course, wiping Prime and Jazz away as Thundercracker lost sight in his own aimless tumbling, soot and wreckage churning so thickly in the saltwater even his infrared could only snatch glimpses of the enemy.
That...hadn't been him.
Two more, rattling booms went off above the water, the shockwaves pushed him deeper still, until he'd reached the cluttered sandy floor.
Among the dreary tans and greys of the human military debris settling around him, he felt like a flare in his yellow-streaked navy plating. But maybe if he burrowed into the sand…
The hysterical thought fled his helm when a familiar claw snaked around his gauntlet and yanked him hard enough to nearly dislodge the limb.
"Move, you scrapheap!" Starscream growled out hatefully, propelling them across the ocean floor and toward the mainland.
"You're disobeying orders," Thundercracker said, kicking his thrusters into gear to alleviate the pressure on his gauntlet. Starscream wasn't slowing down.
"The mission was a success, my orders are complete,"
The grip on his gauntlet tightened further.
Never mind Barricade, Thundercracker couldn't believe Starscream outranked him.
"Not if we keep heading in the same direction as the cassetticons! If they're detected, this entire mission is a failure, which anyone with half a functioning core processor could tell you!" He knocked into his trinemate, colliding hard enough to set him in a completely different direction.
"Humans are territorial, if we make it out of these waters, they can't follow. Then we rejoin Lord Megatron, you complete glitch!"
Starscream glared, "Is that any way to address the mech who just saved your sorry aft after it was handed to you by a short-range Autobot grounder?"
That stung, if Skywarp found out what happened he'd never hear the fragging end of it.
"Can't be saved if all you do is get Lord Megatron to execute us on sight, can it? Now shut up and report what's happened, you have a longer range than I do."
As always, that comment earns a smug sneer before Starscream set out to do just that. As if being gifted a general-class comm unit as second-in-command had been anything other than blind luck.
His grip on Thundercracker never wavered, pulling him along faster than he could manage on his own.
What a sentimental junkyard reject.
Thundercracker twisted his own claw to return the hold.
-Starscream, report.- Megatron commanded, lounging back on his newly crafted throne.
He'd had to keep Barricade busy somehow and he'd found mech wasn't completely incompetent at engineering. The gleaming metal he'd twisted and hammered into place was a domineering thing, stretching above Megatron's helm and emblazoned with a jagged Decepticon crest.
Their base was similarly rudimentary, but there was potential. Once an abandoned human mine, little more than an unstable hole in the ground, now transformed for a far grander purpose.
Already it was several times larger than any other mine in the human province of Arizona, deep enough to hide their energy signatures and spanning out to brush distant human cities from which Decepticon supplies were regularly raided. It wasn't ideal, but it would suit him for a while yet.
-My liege,- Starscream began slimily, drawing him back from his distraction, -The humans sustained heavy losses during Thundercracker's battle and as you so accurately predicted, the Autobots were too distracted assisting survivors to catch the cassetticons. Only their medic even tracked their progress and I quickly diverted attention-
Megatron cut him off with a snarl, -You? You were meant to remain in hiding and infiltrate their military aerial support. Thundercracker was the diversion. If you've jeopardized this mission, Starscream, I'll-
-The mission remains a success, my lord!- Starscream was quick to assure and he would pay for interrupting Megatron later, -Thundercracker kept the Autobots distracted for an acceptable time and we retreated away from the cassetticons' path. We will be returning within three solar cycles ready for your next command.-
We, the fragger had said we. It appears Thundercracker hadn't perished, after all, Ravage's analytical predictions had grown inaccurate in Megatron's absence. He was sure the seeker wouldn't last a breem under the combined force of Prime and two Autobot officers.
Pride and displeasure warred within him, Thundercracker had the perfect frame for scrapping, his lightweight seeker parts were ideal to refit for Haeree. Primus knows the Autobots wouldn't have done anything about his utter lack of armor yet, they found reusing parts to be distasteful at the best of times.
At this rate, Megatron was going to either send a scout back to Cybertron to raid for intact sparkling corpses or be forced to scrounge this wretched planet for anything worth reforging into sparkling plating. It would be no different than looking for energon crystals on an off-planet colony slum.
However, victory soothed his scorching temper. If he couldn't have a new frame made for Haeree, possessing an officer under his command powerful enough to have survived such impossible odds wasn't a terrible loss. He'd even allow Thundercracker to keep his promotion, their debriefing was one to look forward to. Megatron wanted to know exactly how the seeker had gotten away.
In the meantime…
-I knew you were a coward, but I didn't think even human germs could frighten you so. Thundercracker is under orders to retreat but you were supposed to man your post, Starscream. Get back here in three solar cycles, by then I'll have decided on a suitable punishment for your insubordination. Do not keep me waiting.-
Starscream's next transmission was weak with dread, -As you command, Lord Megatron.-
Megatron would enjoy reminding Starscream why a considerable amount of Cybertronians on either side of the war were too terrified to even speak his designation aloud. He'd had Barricade properly reeducated and simple, dependable Soundwave never forgot a lesson, but no one could accuse Starscream of genius.
Switching away from the channel, Megatron stared ahead, archaic processors whirring carefully over this latest turn of events.
Starscream hadn't told him why he had retreated, Megatron had been waiting for the justification to burst out of his second-in-command but it never came. That...was troubling, not a stellar cycle after his glorious return and already Starscream was holding secrets.
Megatron was one of the most brilliant tacticians to ever grace his planet, and it didn't take a mech of his caliber to know cowardly Starscream had blended seamlessly with human machinery in the past. It hadn't been a lack of nerve to drive him from Megatron's command.
He hadn't thought there was enough backbone within Starscream to bear trine loyalty, but retreating on Thundercracker's behalf was the most likely explanation.
He'd need to keep an optic on that, Megatron's word was absolute and soldiers who abandoned tactics for sentimentality held no place in his army, or among the functioning for that matter.
"Forgive me, my lord." Megatron shuttered his optics, shifting to catch sight of Barricade, hunched in a half-bow, gaze averted.
"Is it finished?" Megatron stood from his throne, letting the harsh installed lighting cast long shadows across his subordinate's stiff frame.
"Affirmative, the separate generator is functional and the wing's temperature control has been calibrated with our headquarters' command room."
A sharp grin found its way onto his faceplates, just in time for the next stage of his plan.
Frenzy reported a meager ring of proper heating for Haeree in the Autobot camp, pitiful for any child of their kind, let alone the very last. He'd put a great deal of thought and work into his own preparations, his sparkling would know comfort in ways only a Decepticon lord could provide.
"Excellent work." He let the praise sink in, feeling generous with the phantom weight of Haeree in his claws, "A reward might be in order."
Barricade, just that fraction sharper than the average troop, let wariness ghost over his expression. "My lord?"
"Blackout has been enjoying a great deal more freedom than you, how fortunate he is to raid and patrol while you toil away in a mine. Isn't that what you think?" Barricade choked on his panic, his secret complaints ringing through the empty halls and back again.
In Megatron's infinite kindness, he breaks the silent horror in the next moment, too pleased to twist it into entertainment.
He continued, "Be grateful, your lord rewards obedience. We require suitable furnishings. Tonight we strike the tiny human settlement to the west of our main entrance," Too small for the human military to value with constant surveillance, just large enough to house proper supplies for Haeree's arrival, Blackout had vetted the town thoroughly beforehand.
"You mean...for the sparkling? I'll assist in providing for the sparkling?" Barricade vented in awe, any anxiety wiped clean from his faceplates as his optics seem to grow in his helm.
Megatron meant to be coy, to use Haeree as the ultimate incentive, but even the notion of encouraging the greed he knew lay within every Cybertronian privy to Haeree's existence drove him to murderous heights on a dime.
"Haeree is mine." He roared.
Parental protocols surged like a primeval tide, booting in agitation and alarm. Where was Haeree? Why wasn't he in front of Megatron right this moment? His sparkling had been stolen from him and here he sat doing nothing? Why wasn't he retrieving his sparkling this very moment? It ached like he had never left the damnable ice.
But Megatron knew how to endure.
"The sparkling...is mine," He recovered his composure, sharpened claws balling into spiked fists, "but you may assist me in selecting recreational material after sundown tonight."
For how close he'd come to losing digits, Barricade was remarkably composed as he bowed deeply before his lord.
"That would be most...acceptable. Thank you, my lord." As soon as he'd ending the last syllable, he retreated as quickly as he could without drawing undue attention.
Within seconds, he'd turned the corner and scuttled out of sight, deeper into the cool darkness of the mines.
Megatron was alone in his throne room, staring blankly at the steely floor to the right of his seat. In his central processor, he could imagine Haeree lounging on a cushion at his peds, listening in rapture as Megatron lectured it on the proud history of their people. Sparkling giggles and chirps would echo through their base, bright green optics brimming with affection would stare worshipfully up at him. It felt so real, it was all so close. It was all he could do to hold back from reaching out and taking his future, without a care for the consequences.
Frenzy reported that Haeree was growing close to the Autobots, their medic in particular. He played with them and practiced with them, learned from them, the Autobots took all those moments away from Megatron with every solar cycle they were apart.
But Megatron knew a sparkling's bond was not so easily dissolved, Haeree had come to Megatron first and that meant something. His sparkling had been brought to Megatron on destiny that bordered inevitability, no matter what the Autobots did there was only one possible outcome to all of this.
"Don't forget, little one," He hissed to the atrociously empty space before his throne, "Don't forget that you're mine."
The Autobots came back early the next morning, trodding into camp with the first rays of soft sunlight.
Their optics were heavy and armor scraped. Jazz suffered the worst of it, with dented vambraces and a pronounced limp that screeched against the cement of their base.
The Decepticon had gotten away, their plan had succeeded and both Optimus and Lennox drooped under their failure. Lennox disappeared in a swarm of human soldiers, all wearing uniform expressions of defeat. Optimus curtly summoned Ironhide to a corner of the base and had yet to return.
Jazz explained in grumbling half-vocalized curses that in their distraction trying to keep Lennox's men from being sucked under roiling waves and fighting off the seeker Thundercracker, no one had noticed the military jet fighter breaking away from its hangar to bomb the water's surface indiscriminately. The explosive chaos gave Thundercracker and the jet Optimus identified as Starscream more than enough time to escape.
"And on top of that, Thundercracker fragg- sorry, smuggled bots with him. Right, Ratchet?"
Ratchet hummed distractedly from his place kneeling beside Jazz's splayed peds, examining his joints.
"Affirmative, I detected two small Decepticons in the water, they must've been hiding under Thundercracker before then."
"Shit- sorry, that probably means we're gonna be lookin' out for spybots or cassetticons. Primus, I dam- sorry- hope Soundwave isn't here already. Gives me the -agging creeps."
"Stop that, it doesn't hurt that bad." Ratchet scolded, but seemed purposefully rough as he yanked and pinched at Jazz's wiring.
"Primus, it does hurt that bad!" He snapped, he sounded very upset for all that he hadn't actually struggled or flinched once since Ratchet began repairs.
-Are you going to be okay?- Harry asked, his concern for the Decepticon had crumbled swiftly under the horrible sight of sparks and energon trickling from Prime's second-in-command.
The grimace wrapped around Jazz's faceplates disappeared as soon as Harry sent his transmission. He moved for the first time single stretching out, leaning toward Harry's cot, "Hey, no lil' spark. I'm all good, just being dramatic. I'm fine."
Harry wasn't sure he believed that, he'd wanted to cry after only one of his tubes had been punctured, and with the tearing Jazz suffered... -Doesn't it hurt, though?-
"That's what all my armors for, I can take a hit and keep coming," Jazz insisted, "I barely feel it- just a lil' sting."
"Speaking of, we really need to get you some plating as well," Ratchet looked up from his work, optics tracing over Harry in their familiar repetitive manner.
They'd mentioned it several times before, Harry didn't look right even for a robot. He stared down at himself, as the glow of his spark through the sheer wall of his chest. Such a pretty light meant ugly things to the Autobots, too small and scrawny.
Jazz sighed, "Prime's been working on it, but there ain't many options on Earth."
-What's the problem?- He was missing metal, right? But if there was anything Harry's new world had an abundance of, it was metal. Ratchet had a whole collection of scraps he was using to literally patch Jazz together right that minute.
"All the nice shit is expensive and we don't exactly have a line of credit here," Jazz said tersely, "Prime's working on selling the military some outdated tech and working the human's e-job market, but compatible resources this far from Cybertron are hella scarce. Our other option is scavenging off of other Cybertronians but that's…" The grimace returned as Jazz leaned in even further, staring intently down at Harry.
Harry cuddled a bit closer to his toy plane.
"Listen, lil' spark, if I could give you anything, I would. You know that, right? Anything. If you needed my legs, I'd just pop em right off." Jazz's playful spirit flashed under the grim words and Harry giggled at the ridiculous image.
"But you don't need my legs, you need the finer stuff- under armor, under-under armor, and bots can't give that away. Some ask to give those parts away after their deactivation, to loved ones and stuff, and that's fine. But you can't just take a bot and rip em up as soon as they've stopped moving. Get me? You gotta respect bots even after they're gone."
Harry's giggles waned, what Jazz was saying was confusing but deathly serious. He kept his bright blue optics trained on him, willing Harry to understand.
Jazz was talking about Cybertronians after they've died. What people did with their bodies. Harry hadn't thought about it, but since he was a robot now, he wouldn't decay after he died- not like that bird in the garden. Not like his parents or grandparents, he wouldn't get a grave. Neither would any of the Autobots, Decepticons, or Megatron.
With this realization, he stared wide-eyed at Jazz as the mech continued.
"The dead should be respected, for their lives and beliefs. That's something Autobots have stood for since the start of the war. We aren't tools or walking resources, we're people."
-That sounds nice.- Harry hesitantly agreed.
Jazz smiled, "You're a good spark, that's why I'm telling you this. You need armor and we'll get you some, but we're not scavenging from Decepticons and the like for em and you need to understand why."
Harry remained quiet, feeling out of his depth.
He sort of understood, humans were similar, weren't they? People were buried, their bodies respected at funerals. He wouldn't want more robot parts if that meant one of the Autobots would die, or he knew those parts came from a dead body. It felt gross to consider.
"Alright, that's enough heavy talk for today," Ratchet decided, and shattered the grim atmosphere with a slap to Jazz's leg as he lurched to his peds, "You're fixed."
Jazz cursed lowly, clamoring up as well. "You sure, med-bot? Cuz I still feel real tender…" He made a show of shuffling in place as he tested out his leg, now covered in mismatched patches of foreign plating to compliment the off-color scuffs already present.
"That's what happens when you've got dents that need hammering out, it's why most people dodge when the enemy is firing at you," Ratchet said, "You can handle that yourself, now roll out."
Jazz shot Harry an exaggeratedly grieved look, "You see the kinda disrespecting I get around here? Don't let this grump bully you too, m'kay?"
He waited long enough for Harry to chirp in agreement, mirth stirring up his wings before trotting over to the gloomy corner Prime and Ironhide resided in.
In the silence, peppered only by the scraping racket of Ratchet tucking away his tools and scraps, Harry turned his attention to the medic. He watched patiently as steady yellow servos plucked at the cement floor, as one by one, the metal bits and glowing lasers disappeared from sight.
Eventually, once the last of his things were hidden away, Ratchet's icy blue optics flicked up to take in his quiet regard.
"Don't you listen for a second, I would never bully you."
He spoke in the same gruff manner he'd used while teasing Jazz, but the soft, affectionate look bestowed upon Harry made it so much more tender to his auditory receptors.
It gave him the courage to silently lift up his arms toward the huge Autobot, servos straining for touch.
Harry only had seconds for smoldering embarrassment before he was scooped up in safe servos and cuddled right against Ratchet's chestplate. It was such an instantaneous smooth motion, it hardly felt like he'd moved at all.
"Awww, little one," Ratchet crooned, such generous compassion offered without a shred of hesitation. It was dazzling, Harry pressed himself closer still, a rush of greed egging him on.
"It was a stressful solar cycle, wasn't it?" Ratchet continued, "Being cooped up here during an attack? Must've been frightening."
"Mmmmh," Harry agreed. A lot had happened while Ratchet had been away, he felt wrung-out and spoiled. Depleted after the high stakes of the last twenty-four hours and spoiled for knowing it had been twenty-four hours since he'd last been pet and feeling like a wilted plant for it.
Ratchet sat near Harry's cot, pumping out the absolutely perfect amount of heat as he got them cozy on the floor, "It wasn't too bad, though. We all came back with just a few scratches. Nothing you couldn't get on a quick colony trip, so there isn't anything to worry about."
Harry squirmed, -Did you have to fight? Couldn't you just not go if it happens again?-
"I'm the medic, it's my job to keep these gearheads functioning. I go so everyone comes back," Ratchet said.
Harry stayed quiet after that, a pit of nervous turmoil threatening to crawl up his throat. He deactivated his optics and pulled toy Megatron up from his lap to join the embrace.
"How about we watch some tele-vision," Ratchet suggested, and delicately switched the tv on.
Harry squeezed himself around his toy plane and forced himself to look at the screen.
What was playing wasn't the channel Harry had left it on and it was mid-scene of a movie he didn't recognize.
The audio was weak from so high up, but blocky white subtitles helpfully displayed the dialogue.
DON'T FORGET TO FOLLOW THE PLAN. THEY'LL BE HERE SOON.
"Hey guys, it's us," Sam announced their presence as he and Mikaela shuffled into the hanger alongside their military escort.
It was a scorching summer day, or so Harry had been told. Enough so that a few of his heaters had been turned off to maintain optimum temperature. Prime and Jazz left that morning and had yet to return, collaborating with Jacobs and her team over detecting Decepticons hidden in the ranks according to Ironhide.
Frenzy didn't seem concerned, but it was hard for Harry to pretend he wasn't worried for the spy nestled right in their midst.
Mikaela glanced at Lennox, "We heard about what happened in Hawaii, I'm sorry."
Lennox had brightened considerably over the past few days, the gaunt misery that had followed him back from the battle had been tucked away with the rest of the shadows in his eyes. He waved off Mikaela's sympathies.
"It could've been a helluva lot worse than it was. The casualties were few enough that people bought the training exercise failure cover."
"Small victories," Ironhide agreed.
"How exactly did you two hear? Don't remember signing off on your clearance." Epps raised a brow at the two flushing teenagers.
Bumblebee dropped into his car alt and threw the doors open, honking urgently.
"Little birdie told us," Sam said nervously, before Mikaela threw him into the passenger seat and leapt into the back as if Epps were gunning after them and not standing by Lennox with matching expressions of bemusement.
"Floor it, Bee!"
Harry saw his chance and chirruped for attention. He didn't have to be loud, as soon as he made any noise, the combined gazes of Autobots and soldiers zeroed in on him. -Can I go with them?-
Bumblebee hadn't moved yet, but screeching brakes blasted from his speakers anyway.
The sound echoed awkwardly off the cement walls as Ratchet and Ironhide stared down at him, dumbfounded.
After a beat, Ratchet cocked his head, "You want to go...with Bumblebee?" He clarified.
No, Harry really didn't. Their confusion made perfect sense, Harry didn't want to spend any time with the Autobot who took him from Lord Megatron. He wanted to read the rest of his book and practice speaking some more, he had made some big strides recently too.
But for Frenzy's plan to work, Harry would just have to push past his anger and interact with the scout instead. For Lord Megatron, he would at least try.
-I was hoping to play with Sam and Mikaela outside.- Harry held up his punctured baseball for evidence.
Sam rolled down the window, "Er, does Harry want something?"
"He wants to play ball with you guys outside," Ironhide explained, not looking at either Harry or Sam now, but Bumblebee.
"Hey, that would be fun," Mikaela said from the cab, "Hop in!"
Harry didn't move from his cot, he hadn't gotten the okay yet.
"...Leeeze?" He managed, peering hopefully up at Ratchet's frowning face.
"Hmm, it shouldn't be too cold out there for you. Some exercise would do your joints some good too," He looked conflicted.
"But with Bumblebee as your guard…"
Ironhide snorted rudely, "Who said I'd leave Bumblebee to guard Harry? He can play, but I'll go establish a perimeter first."
He transformed into his truck alt and sped through the hanger entrance in a rush of squealing tires and angry military personnel. Within seconds he was out of sight.
"You know you're on a military base, the perimeter has already been established," Lennox said, cracking a grin up at Ratchet.
"I believe he intends to clear a space of any possible hazards, including snakes and cacti." Ratchet shrugged and ignored Lennox's laughter to stroke Harry's helm.
"Go with Sam and Mikaela, I have some things that still need doing here. If you get cold or overheated, tell someone immediately. If you feel dizzy, or sore, or anything odd at all, come right back. Be careful and listen to Ironhide, affirmative?"
-Affirmative!- Harry chirped, wings fluttering, -Thank you!-
Ratchet smiled, rubbing a digit between his wings just the right way, like he was enfusing warm honey under Harry's plating. He sighed into the touch, slumping bonelessly against the servo in a way that instantly tugged Ratchet's facial plating into a smile.
When Ratchet pulled away, slowly, always slowly, Harry knew it was time to go. He turned his attention reluctantly onto Bumblebee.
He had been uncharacteristically quiet, frozen in place as soon as Harry had asked to go. Even now he said nothing, not even a sound effect to give away his mood. Did he not want Harry to join them outside? The thought actually made it easier to make his way past the heaters and toward the yellow scout.
The icy floor nipped at his peds as he hopped into the backseat next to Mikaela, resisting the temptation to dig his claws into the soft leather by wrapping them around his baseball instead.
It was chilly in the cab, like a frosty winter day. So spoiled was Harry from the constant surrogate warmth, it was shocking enough to make him squirm away from the blast of the AC.
"Cold?" Mikaela chuckled, leaning away from Harry, "Don't worry, you'll warm up quick once we get outside. It's baking right now."
"If we ever get there," Sam said, "Um, Bee? You good?"
This was enough to draw an affirmative whistle from the scout, but he still wouldn't move.
Harry heard Ratchet's gravelly scoff, "Primus almighty, soldier. If you can't handle it, just say so."
A little impatient now, Harry huffed audibly to support Ratchet's sentiment. He was cold and wanted out of Bumblebee as soon as possible, if he'd pulled an axel or something Harry could just walk.
He was pleasantly surprised to find the static in his vocalization made him sound even grumpier.
-No no! I'm good! I swear!- Bumblebee transmitted, revving his engines simultaneously.
"Finally," Mikaela buckled herself in beside Harry.
The mech's speakers burst to life, "Hold on tight, now!"
Harry tensed, optics trained on the white light of the entrance.
Then Bumblebee moved. A brisk walking pace that didn't match the trembling frame and puffing exhaust in the slightest. A seat belt locked around Harry's torso to cushion him from the lightest of lurches, pressing him to the plush backrest.
Ratchet casually shifted out of their path, incredulous laughter in every angle.
It took them several, dragging seconds to trot past Ratchet and to the hangar opening, engine growling as rubber tires were utterly silent in their soft roll. Sam was openly staring at the console before him in worry, Mikaela let out a sigh.
Bumblebee had gone much faster in the past, zipping past military guards and pulling up clouds of dust as Sam laughed from an open window. Now, the scout seemed to be just as reluctant to go outside with Harry as he was.
"And I am almost there/ I'm almost there!" Bumblebee sang as they finally crossed the threshold, hot desert sunlight blasting through tinted windows.
Harry winced as his optics adjusted, far too used to the gentle artificial lighting of the hangar. Shuttering, he nonetheless leaned closer to the window to peer outside.
It had been dark when he'd first arrived on the military base, long shadows and shifting silhouettes had been all he could see past the glare of headlamps and camouflage paint. Now though, everything was bright.
It looked a lot like the backdrop to the Hoover Dam, rocky terrain that rose to rounded mountains before falling to long stretches of bush and cacti. Red soils scattered the plainer beige sand, surprisingly green shrubs huddled in the shelter of boulders. A dusting of yellow flowers peppered the entire landscape, though it was far too dry for any water. The sky was a searing, deep blue, not a single cloud to dilute the day.
Harry shuttered his optics again.
Nevada hadn't changed much, but Harry had. When he'd first stumbled out of Aunt Petunia's rental weeks and weeks ago, he hadn't been able to see nearly so much. Never all at once or with such startling definition and depth. It was like putting on his glasses for the first time and realizing he'd been living in a muddled world of watercolor while everyone else saw in clean oils.
Except now, he mused, watching a tiny sand-colored lizard avoid the gaze of a falcon on the distant horizon, he'd gone from oils to HD television.
"Thank god," Sam said, startling Harry from his daze as he tossed a door open and hopped outside.
In his distraction, Bumblebee had driven right out of camp and to a spot nestled at the foot of a mountain range with plenty of shade. Ironhide was there to meet them, idling in his alt form.
"Maybe you need to fill up or something soon," Mikaela said, patting her seat as she followed after the other teenager.
Bumblebee made a grumbly sound after them but didn't use his stereo to argue the point.
Harry moved to follow them and got caught in his belt, he'd forgotten it was there. With a huff, he sat back and shifted to fiddle with the latch. As he did so, the belt pulled taut, hugging him for one long moment against the leather seats, a beat passed with Harry stiff and uncertain. Then, the belt unlatched on its own and he was free to step out.
-Thanks for coming, little spark!- Bee's sunshine transmission practically radiated sincerity.
Harry hunched, faced away from the mech. A cool dismissal pooled on his glossa, fueled by the frustration that powered all interactions with Bumblebee. But it caught right before he made those familiar, grudging motions.
He didn't have to be frustrated anymore, he'd found his way out. Lord Megatron was coming for him and Bumblebee's betrayal wouldn't mean anything soon. Harry may not like him, but he didn't need to feel the sting of bitterness whenever he laid optics on canary yellow paint. He would be getting him back soon enough.
Harry's shoulders fell, the winter wind gone from his sails as he let a tiny smile color his response, "Mhmm!"
Though it was Bumblebee who blinked his headlamps affectionately, Harry directed all his cheer to the silver toy plane in his claws. How could he be withdrawn when the real deal was practically right around the corner?
"You're getting better at vocalizing," Ironhide said, rolling a little closer and casting Harry in his shadow.
"Chhhanx!" He chirped, too excited to be self-conscious about how buzzy he still was.
Stretched his wings out wide, the buffetting desert wind fanning over his vents and fins was divine. A little cool, but the warm sand beneath his peds was more than enough to keep chills away.
"This outing will proceed until approximately four o'clock, or until the sun starts dipping, you've got two acres of secured land to run around in. I'll keep alert so don't worry."
"Who's worried?" Sam rolled his eyes at Ironhide's sober words, "The Decepticons would have to be suicidal to try attacking a military base full of Autobots."
Mikaela echoed the sentiment, "Didn't Megatron also promise he wouldn't attack the base if Harry was there? Seems like you can relax."
-That's right!- Harry agreed slyly, -You should play with us, Ironhide!-
"If I played with you, who would make sure no harm befalls your toy plane?"
Harry pouted, he had a point there. With his baseball in one claw and tiny toy Lord Megatron in the other, he could accidentally break him. There's no way he'd trust Lord Megatron with Bumblebee either.
With a defeated sigh, Harry carefully placed his toy on Ironhide's passenger seat and shut the door. -Thank you, Ironhide.-
Ironhide's tires shifted grooves into the sand, "Don't mention it, go have fun."
"Throw the ball," Mikaela trot a few paces back, shiny ponytail bobbing behind her, "It was getting boring hanging out here all day."
"Boring!" Sam squeaked, cheeks pinking, "Tha-that's not what you said last time!"
"Hmm, are you sure?"
"Positive! Bee, back me up! Wasn't she saying stuff like 'oh, wow, Sam, Trent never made me feel like thiiis'"
Harry giggled at Sam's falsetto impression, complete with batting lashes.
"I hope you're prepared to jump, Witwicky, I'm going to be aiming above that giant head of yours."
Mikaela shot Harry a toothy white smile and he gladly tossed the baseball into her waiting grasp.
"N-no more, I give," Sam panted, curls limp with sweat as he fell to his knees.
The sun was directly overhead, intense enough that Harry felt like he was clasped in the palm of Ratchet's servo. The strong winds had grown just as heavy with heat, blowing Harry back as it caught in the wide V of his wings.
Mikaela was breathing heavily, but scrubbed at her damp face with a victorious smirk. "Already? We were barely getting started, right, Harry?"
"Mhmm!" Harry hummed, secretly glad his robot body was so good at hiding fatigue. He wasn't much shorter than the teenagers, but he'd had to jump and sprint to keep up with their strong throws. They'd been playing long enough for the shadows to retreat almost completely from where they stood.
"Take a break!/So cool out, stay high, stay fresh!" Bumblebee threw open his doors, letting a wave of chilled air waft enticingly toward Sam and Mikaela. His boot popped open as well and they both quickly snatched up the water bottles stashed inside.
Sam seemed mute with his desperation to pull in water but Mikaela stroked the scout's side mirror, "Thanks, Bee,"
Eventually, Sam's lips popped off the bottle with a satisfied smack and he turned toward Harry, "Hey, Harry, you don't mind if we chill out a bit, yeah? Us humans don't handle the desert so well."
The two were droopy and breathless and cradling their cold water bottles close, Harry would have to be heartless to begrudge them their break.
Ah, a claw came up to brush his thin chest plate. What a silly thing to think. Wry bitterness crept up his shoulders like ivy, he sort of was heartless, wasn't he?
Harry hadn't forgotten he was a robot, but it was harder to think about when playing with humans. He was trying to get used to it, the Autobots were being so supportive and yet...Heartless...All he had was a light that wasn't even supposed to be there now.
"Um, Harry? You good? We could just go find a cave or something…" He didn't sound enthused, but his dark eyes lingered on Harry's clenched claws.
He was being rude now, holding poor Sam and Mikaela back. Harry vigorously shook his helm and made shooing motions at the teenagers, ushering them into Bumblebee's cab with reassuring coos.
The two sealed off the cab without protest, visibly sinking into the no-doubt icy seats with matching expressions of relief. Music shortly began playing from behind the glass and Harry left them to their break.
With nothing better to do, Harry wandered back over to Ironhide's black alt. Under the Nevada sun, heat blasted off his hood but the mech only moved to once more place Harry in his shadow.
-I'm not hot,- Harry had to remark, a little amused now that Ratchet had him firmly acquainted with mothering habits.
"Still good to keep you out of direct sunlight, your central processor would be the first to go if you got overheated." Ironhide warned gruffly, as though the arid brush was an extreme in comparison to the ring of space heaters on full blast that made up Harry's regular environment.
Harry leaned back on his heels against the side of Ironhide's alt, a crooked arm held most of his weight to keep his wings from being flush against the mech. Ironhide's plating must've been molten, but it felt as though he were touching a fresh cup of tea instead.
The wind picked up again, a dull roar in his auditory receptors that drove him further into Ironhide. It was hard not to wobble as his fins twitched through the gale, filtering wind through one moment and then putting up a heavy resistance the next.
"Your wings giving you trouble?" Ironhide chuckled,
-Just a little, I'll figure it out,- Harry said, forcing his vents to behave and flattening his wings to his back. It was a fickle control, though, prone to failure as soon as the next big breeze washed over his frame.
"I'm no seeker, but it seems to me like you're close to graduating from basic exercise," Harry preened with the subtle praise in Ironhide's tone, "If your parental unit were here, they'd be preparing you for gliding. Probably stick you atop a high tower and walk you through all the proper positioning for air currents."
Gliding, a thrill shot through Harry. He'd love to go faster, higher, give his wings a greater purpose than oversized mood rings. Wouldn't it be good fun to plunge from Ratchet's servo and land safely at the foot of his cot whenever he pleased?
What would Lord Megatron say if the sparkling he recovered could not only speak, but glide on his pointed wings? Would he be proud? Could Harry impress even him? He was dying to try.
"As it is, I only know a few."
-Could you please show me?- Harry jumped away, stepping out from the partial shelter of the truck for the full affect.
"I'll give it a shot, widen your stance and wait for the next current to hit you."
Harry obeyed, sliding his peds further apart.
From his vantage point, he could also see Sam and Mikaela cuddling in Bumblebee's back seat. Mikaela was sat in Sam's lap, which had to be cramped, and the two were petting and kissing lazily, oblivious to their audience.
Disgusted, Harry angled himself until they weren't in his direct line of sight and did his best to ignore the gross, cootie-ridden exchange.
Instead, he distracted himself by watching a pair of military planes go by, arcing straight overhead and across the base with a dull screech. Their vapor trails cut the sky evenly in half from Harry's perspective, only veering off center after they were back over empty territory.
"Good, now widen your wingspan as much as you can and keep them flat against the wind, no vents or flaps should give way."
No sooner had Ironhide given the instruction when the breeze picked up again and Harry found himself straining hard, a kite tied too closely to the ground.
Within the next moment, he was on his aft in the sand, insects and animals scattering away from his vicinity. The landing was soft, and he was back on his peds with a grumble and twist.
"All that resistance you felt? That will dramatically slow your descent and is probably your most important position. You'll need to build up and endurance to glide for more than a few seconds but let's move on to the next position…"
And so the rest of the afternoon went, angling his wings with greater purpose and learning how his flaps could control wind resistance and rotation in tandem. They were far more important than Harry had initially given them credit for, neatly twisting him in a half-circle the first time he'd performed a rotating position without moving his actual wings.
Before long, the sun was finally drooping in the sky and it was time to head back to the hangar.
Bumblebee eventually delivered Harry to his nest on wheels that could've been made of tar for how slow he was, with Ironhide pulling up the rear.
For the first time, Sam and Mikaela declined Bumblebee's offer to escort them to the city, choosing a military jeep and stoically pretending they couldn't hear the sad music filtering through the scout's speakers as they climbed in after a pair of stone-faced officers.
Ironhide just barked out a series of jeering laughs and left Bumblebee to his sulking in the corner of the hangar.
"How did it go, Harry?" Ratchet hummed happily, scooping him up as soon as he reached his cot to snuggle him up against the crook of his giant, corded neck.
Harry eagerly reciprocated, fluttering to settle himself against the medic as his claws found a digit to embrace.
Immediately, the other servo rose to delicately pluck at his tired wings, zeroing in on stiff pistons and strained wiring with unerring accuracy. It felt divine after his day in the sun and he melted into the delicious hold.
"Little one?" Ratchet prodded, leaving his wings to briefly rub a soothing circle at the base of his helm.
-I want to go again tomorrow,- Harry announced, pulling his captured digit close enough to prop his chin on. From his spot so close to Ratchet's face plates, he got to see every subtle movement that came with Ratchet softening to his pleading gaze.
Sadness, yearning, deep affection, and other murkier emotions flashed in sequence in those bright blue optics, "Well, nothing went wrong today so I don't see why you can't go again."
Success! Harry dropped his helm to press his own face gratefully into the smooth plating of Ratchet's servo, a grin somewhere under his obscuring mouth plate. Everything was going perfectly, Lord Megatron was a genius for cooking up a plan so simple and foolproof.
"Chhhhhanxxxuu," Harry vented gratefully, and let himself shamelessly bask in the attention as Ratchet went straight back to massaging him into a pile of goo.
Before long, a soft rumble rose in his chest, smooth as honey on his vocal processor and tingly throughout his body. Harry slumped further, the involuntary rattling noise picking up volume he let Ratchet cuddle him even closer.
Contentedness as he'd never known in his human body engulfed him like a soft, well-loved blanket. This was probably that optimal status signal he'd accidentally emitted before, thankfully the Autobots seemed more prepared this time.
Ironhide had abruptly stopped laughing and Ratchet was crooning a nonsense lullaby into the safely closed off space between them, but the mania from before had dissipated.
Harry deactivated his optics, an invincible smile planted firmly under his mouth plate. He couldn't think of a better way to end his day. Even as he waited eagerly for what was to come, he couldn't bring himself to feel impatient when the Autobots give him so much to cherish in the moment.
Notes:
Starscream: As a professional double-crossing bastard, I feel morally obligated to warn you that this is exactly how I'd try killing you. Be carefu-
Thundercracker: lmao if I needed loser advice I'd ask for it- watch and learn.
Thundercracker: immediately is killed
Chapter 10
Summary:
Optimus becomes Megatron's sworn enemy a second time.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Harry spent the week making similar outings. He'd tag along with Sam and Mikaela and whatever toy they were cleared to bring to the base, usually balls and frisbees and the like. Sometimes Ratchet would join them, and Jazz followed curiously after them once, but he was mostly left under Ironhide and Bumblebee's watch.
Optimus greatly approved of Harry's trips and whenever Bumblebee wasn't needed for anything and the temperature was high enough outside, he was sending gentle hints that Harry should be escorted to the foot of the mountain for wing training and playtime. Harry suspected it might have something to do with his antisocial behavior in the hangar.
Though he loved to cuddle up with Ratchet and Jazz was reading every other chapter of his books with him, most of his free time was taken up watching the tele. Frenzy was great at sneaking in messages right under the Autobots' radars with innocent programming and subtitles italicized whenever Harry needed to take notice.
It didn't make for good conversation, but Harry knew the deadline was coming up and everything was running smoothly. He was thrilled to be a part of the plan, to be a reliable player in Lord Megatron's scheme. With the appropriate Decepticons all carefully positioned and lying in wait, there were only a few more days to ensure Ironhide's guard would be as lowered as possible while supervising Harry.
With nothing else to do in the meantime, Harry had improved upon himself in leaps and bounds. He'd just about mastered all the positions Ironhide knew about and could hold his total wind-resistance position under a full blast of wind for a solid minute before the strain grew too much. Ratchet hadn't approved him for gliding yet, but the worried glint in his optics told Harry he was probably close.
His language was a little slower, he certainly hadn't returned to his previous fluency, but the humans could understand him most of the time and were making an effort to speak to him. Once he'd stopped sounding so much like a fax machine than a lispy toddler, even some of the soldiers had made attempts to interact with him.
"Go long, Harry!" Today, for example, it was Lennox on his lunch break who had chosen to go with him and his customary escort to play ball, this time with a football he'd swiped from the barracks.
"Gottit!" Harry cried, running past Ironhide with his optics trained on the ball spiraling for the ground.
He had to duck to catch it and left a long scrape down its nose on accident, but Harry let out a whoop when he saved it from the ground.
"Nice catch!" Cheered Bumblebee and Harry was in too good a mood not to grin at him, even if nobody could see it.
"Throw it here," Major Chen waved his arms out, neck flushed with the heat but much more conditioned for the desert in comparison to the teenagers. Chen and Harry hadn't interacted until that day, but he came across Harry's patch of shade looking for Lennox and was good-natured enough to join in.
Feeling playful, Harry arced the ball high in Chen's direction, making the game more taxing on the composed soldier. With Lennox already breathing hard, it was only fair.
In a prim, practiced form, Chen sprinted after the ball and caught it without leaping. He tucked the football under his arm and jogged back with a smug look on his face.
"Nice try, Harry," He huffed, and then sent the football flying over Lennox's head without warning.
"Hey!" The man yelped indignantly, and went chasing after it himself, tripping over a rock in his scramble.
It wasn't to be. For the first time in fifteen minutes, the football struck the ground.
Lennox growled as he scooped it up, dropping sand all down his front, "Damn it, Major."
"Language," Ironhide said, visibly startling Chen who hopped back a few steps from the black truck.
Lennox was less affected, merely shooting Harry a contrite look, "Right. Sorry, Harry."
"'Sssokay, passss!" Harry waved off, Jazz cursed far more often than Lennox and he'd much rather be chasing the ball right then.
Lennox wasn't too apologetic, though, because he made the next throw even harder. Faster, with a mean spin to keep it that way. Harry dug his peds into the sand and dashed after the rapidly dropping ball.
He only managed to touch it with a servo before it tunneled into thick brush, sending a lizard skittering for cover as Harry barrelled after it. Dry thistle and tumbleweeds smacked into his face plates, they scratched against his arms as he pulled away, leaving streaks of silver from where they knocked the staining dust aside.
When he made his way back to the group, Chen was chuckling merrily.
"Right? Every time I wondered what aliens might be like, I pictured more Star Trek and less Marvin the Martian."
"I think only the Decepticons have proper names, shit like Megatron and Starscream is pretty out there."
"Aw, that's not true. What about Optimus Prime?" Was Chen's retort as Harry came to a complete stop.
"What?" He asked, tilting his head at the two.
"Oh, nothing. It's just that you guys have much more...Earthly names than you'd expect from an alien race," Lennox explained, "especially you."
Chen laughed again, "I've got a subordinate named Harry who's none too pleased about it, the others have started calling him Human Harry just to rile him up."
Lennox rolled his eyes, "It's like there's a boot camp specifically for turning soldiers into middle schoolers, I swear."
Harry shifted uncomfortably, staring down at his dirty peds as a cold stone solidified in his abdomen.
"'S weeerd, huh. My name and my look." He stared harder at his silvery metal peds, tipped with ten sharp claws and filled with tubes and wires.
"I mean a little," Chen shrugged, "No one thinks an alien kid is going to have the same name as British royalty, but it's not like I can judge. Tim Chen is kind of weird too."
Lennox snorted, "Count your blessings, Chen. You were a hair away from being Major Tom."
"Like I haven't heard that before- oh," Chen cut himself off, peering up at the sky with a hand shading his eyes.
A military plane cruised directly overhead, carving through clouds with a thunderous roar. They flew by every day at the exact same time, the chime of a tremendous skybound clock to count the hours.
"That's the afternoon patrol, break over." Chen sighed, dropping his hand to bat at his dusty uniform.
"Prime says he's made some headway in negotiations while you were gone," Ironhide told the two soldiers, and they both adopted twin looks of exasperation.
Lennox didn't bother trying to dust himself off, swiping sweat-soaked bangs from his eyes as he turned to look toward the main headquarters. "Straight back into the lion's den."
"Aw, Jacobs isn't so bad. You'll be fine," Chen assured with a rough slap to the back.
Leaving Lennox to his retreat back to camp, he trotted over to where Harry was hanging back.
"If you don't give me the ball back, I can't promise my men won't attempt a raid to retrieve it."
Harry squeaked, realizing he was still clutching onto the football. He shoved it out in front of him, embarrassed. "Sssoh-ree!"
Chen carefully took it from his claw-tipped servos and jammed it under one arm, "No problem, just thought I'd save us the intergalactic incident."
"Much appreciated," Ironhide rolled forward at a leisurely rate, "Autobots abhor senseless loss of life, you know."
Chen laughed a little too high and took several steps back, "Right, that's my queue to go then. Good game, Harry."
The major only took his eyes off of Ironhide once he'd cleared his first dune and then his back was to them both as he briskly crossed the desert to his military base, football still in his grasp.
Once the two soldiers were well on their way to the main entrance, Ironhide let loose his chuffing laughter, "Humans," He sighed, "way too easy."
"Meeean," Harry accused, watching as they shrank in the distance. A few guards stepped out to greet the majors and with his greatly enhanced, vision, he could spy Chen tossing the ball at one of the soldiers checking in.
"It's my job to be a little mean to humans, I've got to make sure they respect me," Ironhide protested. His gravelly English accent couldn't sound innocent no matter how he tried, much too proud of himself to even pretend otherwise.
He gave up the charade almost immediately, it didn't suit his personality to play dumb, "We can keep this between us, though. Prime doesn't have to know every little thing, right?"
Harry giggled and made a show of mulling about, grasping his chin and peering thoughtfully up at the sky.
Ironhide wouldn't beg, but he did roll forward until Harry was in the sliver of shadow available with the sun hanging directly above them. He seemed to believe this would soften Harry up, which it really shouldn't.
"Fwhine," Harry vented reassuringly, -I won't report this to Optimus during our next meeting.-
"So generous," Ironhide inched forward until his grill was pressed against Harry's front, then he rested there, as though all he needed was to touch him.
Harry absently stroked along the chrome, drawing circles in the dust with his digits, "Ironhide?"
He was best at names, all the Autobots were so excited when he practiced them it was one of the very first things he'd fairly mastered with his vocal processor.
"Yes, little one?"
"Harry issa weeeird name fwhor a robot."
There was a thoughtful pause, Ironhide didn't speak for a while, though he kept pressed up against Harry's touch. Harry kept his optics downcaste, his circles evolving into more elaborate spirals as time crept on.
"You shouldn't take what they said too seriously," Ironhide finally said, "It doesn't matter what your designation is, Jazz changes his every now and then, and right now his is just as human as yours is now."
Harry shook his head, "No, Harry isss more human, isss fwhor a human boy. Jazz isssa thing, like Ratchet."
He swallowed, the components of his throat clicking with the movement, "I'm not a human boy anymore."
Ironhide pulled back then, steady so not to startle Harry as he reversed a few feet and then switched to his bipedal form in a cacophony of clangs and switches. In a few seconds, the trillions of tiny parts that made up Ironhide shuffled about until he was kneeling in the sand. His angular blue optics were narrowed, honed on Harry.
"You're not, you're a sparkling now," He agreed, dropping his servo flat against the ground in a silent invitation.
Harry really was trying not to let that fact hurt him anymore, the rush of anxiety that flooded his processors shouldn't be there after so long. He didn't feel so wrong in his body, was it so big a deal to accept that he was stuck this way forever? Resentment kindled for just a second for the Allspark embedded in his spark.
But he didn't want to think about those things, they were too heavy and strange even now. He crawled into Ironhide's palm and allowed the mech to raise him to his pauldon, shielded from the sunlight of course.
The breeze was stronger so high up, so Harry was quick to hop to the crook of Ironhide's neck and latch on, vents opened and wings folded in tight. Ironhide rumbled happily, chin gently brushing over the top of Harry's helm.
"No one thinks any less of you for keeping your old name," Ironhide continued, a touch darker, "And if some worthless scrapheap tries to give you a hard time I'd mash em into a fine paste, you don't need to worry that a human name makes you strange"
"But it doesss, it isssstrange," Harry insisted, "Harry the human-" -doesn't exist anymore.-
Ironhide hummed in agreement, "Do you want to change it, then? Get a designation for Harry the sparkling?"
A sparkling name, Harry deactivated his optics. An alien, cybertronian name fit for a creature millions of miles from Earth. Was he so different that kind of name would suit him better?
His wings fluttered guiltily, his name is one of the last thing he still has of his parents. Even his looks are gone, no messy hair or green eyes that could've ever made him part of a family set- even a broken one. Could he really discard that name so easily?
Harry James Potter, it hadn't meant all that much to him before, hardly anyone called him by it. The teachers would call him you, or Potter. The Dursleys would call him freak or boy. But it was suddenly a bit precious now, in danger of being truly forgotten.
"You don't have to decide now, you've got plenty of time." Ironhide said then.
Harry reactivated his optics, shuttering them up at the weapons specialist, "What would you call me?"
He didn't even know what name he'd be trading his in for. Perhaps he could find one with meaning, one that made him feel less like he was scooping out the final piece of himself the Allspark hadn't quite managed to reach.
"Tell you what," Ironhide reached up to stroke along his back, almost ghosting over his plating, the touch was so painstakingly careful, "I can give you some designations to choose from, a few times a day even and if one pops out at you, let me know. If not, there's no harm in staying Harry the sparkling."
Harry liked the plan, it was slow and gave him time to really contemplate the change. If he really didn't like them, he trusted that Ironhide wouldn't let anyone poke fun at his name, even if it was silly for a robot to have.
"Thank you," He chirped gratefully, nestling against the junction between Ironhide's neck and pauldrons. He had a few hours left before it was time to go back to the hangar and got comfy for the weight.
Bumblebee, in a rare instance of doing what Harry wanted, drove away, then. He was headed back for the base, probably bored now that the games were over. His departure brought about privacy that Harry greatly appreciated while Ironhide drummed up some designations Harry could use.
"Let's see, these are just shots in the dark so stop me if you like something- Ironwing, Silverhide, Ironside, Ironfist, Falco, Steelhide, Skyhide, Turbohide, Roadbuster, Chromehide, Ironjet…"
For random, passing ideas, Harry found all of Ironhide's suggestions to be suspiciously similar in one, glaringly obvious way.
"Heard you picking out a new designation for yourself," Jazz brought up casually that night, propped next to Harry's cot.
"Ifwh I like it," Harry agreed, cautiously putting his book down to take in those wide optics staring down at him like spotlights.
"Harry ain't bad at all," he reassured right off the bat, so quick to put Harry at ease.
"It don't have to please everyone, I just really liked human music and made the switch. If it makes ya happy, it should be enough."
Harry stared down at his book, stroking over the pages thoughtfully. In a way, he was emulating Jazz's confident initiative. He wanted to hear a name that so encapsulated his interests and personality that there was no question it belonged to him. Jazz fit his name, cool and comfortable in his own skin. But Harry…
"The one who wasss named Harry, isssn't me now," Harry struggled to communicate how he felt about his name, "My parentssss named a human boy." The boy who lived in a cupboard under the stairs, who wore hand-me-downs and wished desperately to be taken away from Surrey. Who had a neat scar and knobbly knees and who was vaporized before the Allspark.
"I see what you mean, though, lil' bot." Jazz bobbed his helm sagely, but he didn't expand on that.
Instead, he squatted beside Harry's ring of heaters and made himself comfortable, "Wanna go through some ideas I had for you?"
Harry had been more interested in continuing his book, but he couldn't deny the curiosity he felt at the prospect of being named by Jazz. What odd, erratic names could he come up with?
He nodded and folded his page to hold his place so he could tuck the book away for later.
Jazz waited until he was back in place on his cot, digits drumming sporadically against the cement until he was finished. As soon as Harry gave him his full attention, Jazz delivered his own litany of options.
"Dagger, cuz yer sharp an' unpainted. Could mix it up with Daggerwing, Daggerclaw, Daggersweep. Or maybe Riot? Or Beacon with yer chest plate bein' so thin. Flux? Nightlight? Zephyr? How 'bout Redo? Or Monday? Junior? Earthspark? We could use yer roots. Potshot? Hairtrigger? Hoover?" They seemed like names Jazz had put thought into, but to Harry's astonishment, they gushed out of his mouth without pause. An endless river of references and almost-nicknames.
The suggestions only grew more colorful as time went on, bouncing from Earthly sentiments to the color of his optics to his baseball, but none drew his interest. Harry didn't return to his book for a very long time, until Ratchet gently interrupted and rescued Harry from the thoughtful yet unrelenting onslaught.
Harry very deliberately didn't bring up his new name in front of Bumblebee, but he supposed it made sense that his exclusion couldn't last forever.
"Hey, Bumblebee," Jazz greeted happily as soon as he'd rolled into earshot, "Harry here is one tough customer!"
"Or maybe your designations just suck," Ironhide grumped from his slouch by the entrance.
Jazz hissed something too quick and quiet to hear but it pulled Ironhide's brow plating to the very top of his helm. With a cheeky wink, he turned back to Bumblebee's idling alt form.
"Anyway, give me some ideas. What would you call him?"
Harry scowled at Bumblebee's headlights, folding his arms in front of him. He didn't want to be too mean and chase him away but that didn't mean he was happy he'd have to sit through the scout's suggestions too.
Kind Ratchet must have read his posture, for his mimicked it, folding his arms before himself and pinning Bumblebee with an impressive glare of his own. Neither spoke, letting the awkward silence crowding in after Jazz's invitation do the talking for them.
Bumblebee looked impressively uncomfortable for a featureless car. He stalled in place, rumbling motor the only noise for several stretched seconds.
"If you can't think of anything, just suggest Ironwing," Ironhide teased, and that seemed to be the last straw for Bumblebee's nerves.
-Oh look, Sam left his wallet! Better go catch up to him!- Before the transmission was even complete the scout was gone, the smell of burnt rubber and streaking tire marks all that he left behind.
Ironhide shot Harry an exaggerated sneer, "Coward."
Harry giggled, happy to have so cleanly avoided blaring song lyrics and solely Sam-related name suggestions. He'd witnessed Bumblebee attempting to name Sam's new puppy when the teenager has scampered in with pictures and definitely didn't want to end up being named Samantha too. He was also glad to have avoided flatout denying the mech, for all that Harry openly disliked Bumblebee, he had been distraught to find out Sam's mother had promptly declared Samantha a Frankie upon his return home.
Several hours later, Bumblebee finally returned from his mission to reunite Sam with his wallet. Coincidentally, his reentrance was accompanied by Optimus Prime, who immediately summoned Ironhide and Jazz over for a nightly debriefing.
"Maybe that gearhead has a few working circuits after all," Ratchet mused under his breath.
"What?" Harry looked up from his book, nearly finished now.
Ratchet stretched to his peds, optics trained on his unit gathering in the corner furthest from military personnel, "Hm, nothing. I'll return shortly."
Ratchet joined the ring of mechs and Harry went back to his book, eagerly flipping the page. Would the poor mother mouse's home get moved in time?
"Don't you hawe sssu- ssssuggesssstionsss, Ratchet?" Harry asked the following morning.
Jazz had left with Optimus earlier and Bumblebee had gone with Sam and Mikaeala somewhere in the city, so Harry busied himself over one of the puzzles he had yet to open.
Ratchet had joined him, though his digits were far too large to handle any fragile puzzle pieces. He mostly helped by suggesting pieces indicated through his wrist device-turned laser pointer and the time ticked by in easy measurements. Curiously, he had yet to bring up Harry's search for a proper robot name. In fact, he'd hardly spoken at all since Harry had brought it up.
"What was that?" Ratchet hunched closer from his position sat cross-legged on the floor right behind the heaters.
"You hawen't tried naming me. Do you not want to?" Harry plucked the corner piece Ratchet had found and connected it to the two nearly complete sides he already had with a chirp of victory. The frame was almost finished, then he'd fill in the middle.
But first, he was interested to know why the mech he'd expected would be most involved, didn't even seem to notice the others coming up with name after name.
"Oh, that."
The dark gloom that Harry took pride in chasing away swam back full-force in Ratchet's murky gaze, too ancient to be true grief but too potent for mere melancholy. The mech was no longer looking directly at him, optics skating off his helm to fixate on the puzzle pieces instead.
"I...was a first officer in the Science Division, on Cybertron," Ratchet murmured, "It was an important position, gave me prestige. I treated a lot of high class Cybetronians and they'd ask specifically for me. Especially with things as important as sparkling inspections."
Pain, so much pain in his voice, though it never wavered. Harry abandoned the puzzle to touch Ratchet, place his servo over Ratchet's ped and croon comfortingly up at him. He hadn't meant to hurt Ratchet with his question.
"The others weren't often around sparklings, Ironhide watched a few for friends, Jazz took on some apprentices, Prime would be presented with them in the most ridiculous fashion," a weak chuckle, "but they weren't there when those sparklings were brand new."
"Giving a designation, it meant the world to their parental units. Imprinting, their faces were...indescribable. And they'd have their first interaction, give them their first foreign coding. And that perfect designation they'd been thinking of for orns, even if the sparkling didn't use it forever, it was a promise- almost sacred. A promise to Cybetron, to make their child a vital member of our people, with gifts and talents for the benefit of us all. A promise to the child, to have the very best possible chance to achieve that goal."
Ratchet waved over to Ironhide, who had been utterly silent so far, faceplates stony as he watched them both. "Ironhide's carrier knew he'd be an impressive warrior, his designation was a promise for a strong defender."
Ironhide didn't react to this generous praise, unwavering in his regard, almost unfriendly in his chilled demeanor. Ratchet moved on without hesitation, though, so Harry pulled his attention back to the medic.
"My designation, Ratchet, promises an important component to our planet, a mechanism for building and fixing."
It was spoken softly, a glimmer of pride like soft dawn rays peeking out over a somber night sky. Harry thought he understood what Ratchet was telling him then, in the way his optics trailed up to the ceiling of the hangar, as though he could look past it and see Cybertron.
"You deserve one that suits you. But I don't want to deprive you of that promise. You shouldn't have to pick out your own designation like it's a pretty stripe of paint, you should be given one by someone who understands who you are and what it means to be your parental unit."
What it means to be his parental unit...He didn't have one, though. He'd lost his parents before he could even remember them, so how could he know is someone suitable came along? Who would even want to be his parent?
Lord Megatron came to mind, but he was Harry's guardian. Could that be the same thing?
"Would you rather Megatron give him one, then?" Ironhide interrupted.
Harry flinched away, optics wide. How had he known what Harry had been thinking?
"Don't be ridiculous. I just don't think he should rush into this," Ratchet snapped back, sharply contrasting with the soft way he ever so gently lifted Harry and placed him back before his puzzle. Had he mistaken Harry's flinch for a shiver?
A thumb smoothed over his helm before Ratchet went back to glaring at the weapons specialist standing guard by the entrance.
Ironhide drew himself up, "It's his decision, Ratchet, and he asked us for designations to choose from."
"And it should be our duty to explain to him the full ramifications of his choice!" The darkness in Ratchet's stare was steadily conquering every plate on his face, shrouding him in bleak shadows.
Ironhide laughed joylessly, "What ramifications? What promise is there to make anymore? Cybertron is dead, all that's left of that culture is a couple dozen rusty soldiers who couldn't care less if Harry grows into a proper, citizen-serving Ironwing or other- so long as he survives."
Ratchet surged to his peds far too fast for his size, fluidly stepping away from Harry's nest and toward the black mech. He'd only looked scarier during Harry's discovery, something wild in his optics.
"Don't fight," Harry piped up, weak with disbelief that the two kindest of the Autobots were so quickly coming to blows over his name of all things.
"Relax, little one, we're not fighting," Ratchet hissed without looking back, "we're just getting some things straight."
He reached Ironhide and leaned in fearlessly, "Harry deserves to know about his culture, he deserves to be brought up right. What's the point of us even caring for him if we don't teach him a fragging thing about his heritage? He doesn't get a lesser childhood just because you don't like to think about anything before the war!"
"Don't argue anymore, I'm sorry!" Harry shouted, but his tiny vocal processor would never outmatch Ironhide's. He didn't waste a second before slamming forward, hardly an inch away from Ratchet with a snarl fixed on his face.
"Don't you dare say I don't want the best for Harry, he won't get the lesser of anything. He won't get that picture-perfect upbringing you're deluding yourself with, though. No trips to the capital, no activation celebrations, no city just waiting to hear his designation- so pull your helm out of your aft! He wants a designation, and Primus if giving him one isn't the closest any of us will get to having a sparkling of our own."
"This isn't about you!" Ratchet shoved him back none-too-gently, "He isn't here to make you feel better, you glitch! Either make a call and designate him yourself or allow someone else the honor, don't just throw designation after designation at him like some degrading competition!"
Ironhide knocked Ratchet's servo way, "You're damned right he isn't here for me- or you either! He's a bot with his own coding and if he wants to pick his own name you're not going to shame him into a dead tradition upheld by no one."
"Thisssshould be m-my choice! You don't getto decide, ssssso sssssstop!" Harry pleaded, retreating to his cot with toy Lord Megatron.
They were both so angry...neither had struck yet, but their scorching fury was that of an erupting volcano, deafening with power that shook the ground.
Harry was ignored, Ratchet let out a bitter curse and Harry didn't want to hear what vicious thing would leap out of the medic next.
He wrapped his arms around his helm since he couldn't cover his ears, and contacted Optimus.
-C-can you please come back to the hangar?-
His response was instantaneous, -Status report. Are you damaged? I'm on my way now.-
-I'm fine,- Harry practically whispered through the transmission, it felt like the words were sticking to his throat, -Ironhide and Ratchet are fighting, they're really really mad and won't stop.-
All at once Ironhide growled low and deep, "Are you fragging with me?" he said accusingly, "You went crying to Prime for help?" He took a menacing step forward, arms raising.
Harry watched in terror, he was going to hurt Ratchet-
"I-I did it!" he squeaked, frame rattling so hard he was at risk of scratching toy Lord Megatron in his vice-like grip.
"It was me!"
It was only then that his voice rang out clear as a bell, a gunshot giving him dead away in the middle of a fight. Harry didn't tuck into a ball but he couldn't keep from cringing.
Ironhide dropped his arms, finally hearing Harry. He glanced down at him, confusion slowly easing the rage that permeated off of him.
"You?" He asked confusedly, "But why-" Ironhide cut himself off, optics suddenly flying wide and bright as he took in Harry's quaking form in the middle of the cot.
"Oh, frag."
"Ironhide, Ratchet," Optimus' even-toned voice had never been so cutting before. An unforgiving winter chill that penetrated the entire camp and snuffed their volcanic anger with ease, "Outside now."
Ironhide and Ratchet seemed stuck in place, horror swamping their faces as they stared down at Harry. Their combined gazes felt like an unbearable weight pressing him down through the bed and into the ground.
He pulled his sheets over his head for the flimsiest of shields, anything to protect himself from their outrage for snitching on them to Optimus Prime.
"H-harry," Ratchet's voice broke, "I-"
"Now." Optimus didn't raise his voice, but there was no escaping the command. Ratchet's mouth clicked shut and the two retreated out of the hangar without another word.
Harry didn't watch them go, he kept his helm safely under the sheet even as he heard another mech step into the room with him.
They approached without a word, until they were right outside his nest, and let out a familiar sigh.
"Status report, little one," Optimus said, an infinite gentleness to him that had been missing entirely just moments before.
-I'm fine.- Harry transmitted.
There were a number of clicks and creaks as Optimus probably kneeled forward, bringing his face closer.
"Would you mind removing the fabric so that I may ascertain for myself?"
Harry wanted to say no, but he also just wanted the day to end. He felt itchy and stressed, and his wings were flat against his back as though to protect themselves from a blow.
There was a patient pause, and then, even softer than before, "Please?"
Harry swallowed past the whimper aching in his chest and peeled back the sheet.
Optimus' somber optics met his own, slow and careful as they roved over his frame before returning. His expression didn't change from its complicated mixture of sadness and warmth and knowing frustration.
-I'm fine,- Harry repeated.
"You were brave, little one," Optimus said, so sadly and sincerely. He was so discomforting to speak with.
"Very brave to ask for my help when they would not listen."
So quick to the point too. Harry felt lanced by the praise, shying away, "I didn't want them to fight, they were going to hurt each other."
Optimus hummed, "My unit is highly trained and capable in battle as well as sparring with each other. Although their actions today were," his tone cooled by several degrees, "inexcusable, it's highly likely they would stop before any actual damage occurred."
Harry wilted, digging his servos into the sheets, "S-sssstill, they were being sssso meeeean. Over nothing, it wasssso fwhasst. They sssshouldn't be allowed to- they're a teeeeam." He protested a little clumsily. Even if they weren't going to really hurt each other, even then it was scary how quickly they lost their tempers.
"It must've been extremely quick and unsettling for you." Optimus agreed, "You should never have witnessed that kind of behavior."
Then, he added, "It wasn't that quick, however. If it comforts you to know. They've been arguing on comm channels to keep it away from you and the humans, tempers have been running short lately."
Harry looked back up, "Then, it wasssn't because ofwh me? They were arguing about my name."
Optimus let out a low coo, slowly lowering a huge servo to hover right before Harry. Harry didn't hesitate, he wanted cuddles and soft warmth again.
He leaned forward and grasped onto a digit, towing it against his chest to hug under the sheets like a teddy bear. It wasn't the perfect temperature, the way Ratchet could warm his servos, but Optimus wasn't nearly as scary that moment and it was more than enough.
"Harry," Optimus continued, something stilted but welcome in his voice, "None of that was your fault, not for a moment. They could've argued over anything but it was their decision to lose control as they did, it wasn't because of you."
"Then why," Harry whispered into his captured digit, pressing his helm against sigil-scored metal.
Ever so softly, the captured servo cupped around Harry and raised him so steadily from the ground it felt like a sheet-cloaked lift taking him up a skyscraper. He pulled his bundled blankets closer about him and didn't relinquish the digit, even as Optimus shifted him into the concave palm of his servo, now at spark-level.
"It's been...taxing, some of the unexpected challenges we've faced since arriving on this planet. Bumblebee and Jazz have adapted admirably. But the others have found stakes in our mission incompatible with how limited our mobility is. Right now we are awaiting reinforcements and tracking down Decepticons, and we've received more than I could've ever asked for," A crooked smile crept over Optimus's mouth plate as he looked down at Harry meaningfully, "If you were to look at this situation from a less positive position, we have an immense amount to lose as well."
Harry broke away from Optimus' gaze, guiltily shifting away from the television set and Frenzy hidden in plain sight.
Ironhide and Ratchet fought like that because they're stressed, Optimus seemed to think some of it was out of concern for Harry. He also didn't think it was because of him, though. So maybe, maybe everything would still be alright after he left?
"They'll get better, right?" He asked, looking back up beseechingly.
Optimus ventilated, smoothing a digit down Harry's back like a pet parakeet, "Don't concern yourself with them, they should be operating optimally now. This is a temporary lapse in judgment, they'll settle soon enough."
Harry leaned into the petting, reassured. They would be okay, even if he left it shouldn't bother them too much. That's good, he didn't want to hurt them. He just wanted to return to Lord Megatron, maybe they'd even understand.
"Where are they?" Was his next question, they couldn't be silently standing outside the hangar. Optimus looked much too comfortable where he was, not a rush in the world.
"My second-in-command is reprimanding them in my stead," The frost was clipping his words again, "I assigned our positions much too quickly, it seems. Ratchet and Ironhide are under the notion they may do whatever they wish in your presence, Jazz will relieve them of that notion."
Harry wanted to be concerned for them, but he also never wanted to see Ironhide and Ratchet screaming like that ever again. Could he hope they weren't being punished too badly while also silently cheering Jazz on?
"Until there is reason to adjust assignments once more, Jazz will be your personal guard and Ratchet will finish negotiations with the humans in my stead. They are near completion so he has little to do besides monitor the proceedings and watch for underground infiltration." Optimus continued, and Harry sprung up, ram-rod straight.
"They're leaving?" He gasped, "But, I don't want them to leave!" No more cuddles from Ratchet? Or lazy afternoons outside with Ironhide? He just wanted them to stop being mean to each other, never to go away!
"I didn't ban them from the hanger, this isn't meant to be a punishment for you," Optimus was quick to correct, bringing Harry up to his pauldrons now.
"But they'll be-"
"No more removed from your life than Jazz and I are on any given day, even less so for Ironhide. You'll have plenty of time with them if you choose to do so," Optimus said, stroking him in broad, smooth motions.
Harry relaxed, Optimus didn't intend to keep either mech from him. Sure, he didn't want to be pet by Ratchet right this minute, but he still cared for him and didn't want to lose even more people in his life.
While Ironhide had also revealed a nasty streak to his personality that day, that wasn't all there was to him and Harry desperately hoped it would stay a rare occurrence if resurfacing ever again. He didn't want to be with bullies, but his days with the Autobots were counting down fast and he wanted to leave appreciating the care they'd given him.
"Thank you," Harry said, craning his head to look Optimus in the eye. He didn't like the mech all that much and he was difficult to be around at times, but Harry had to admit that Optimus really did care. Even if Harry didn't feel they were close, the Autobot leader had dropped everything in mere seconds to whisk Harry away from his troubles and delegate them until not a worry remained.
He'd never had that kind of commitment in his life before, not until the Allspark had changed him.
"Anything," Optimus replied, a look of intensity on his face. Harry scrunched the plating between his optics, he'd gotten it wrong. He was meant to say 'any time'. So awkward, always why was he so awkward compared to his troops?
"What will you do now?" Now that Ratchet had taken over negotiations, was there another project for Optimus to attend to? He came back to the bunker every night to update his unit and rest, but he was usually too busy to be near the hangar at this hour, never mind lounging as he was.
"I'll be handling high priority matters remotely, right now I want to be near you and monitoring interactions between you and the others."
Harry shuttered his optics, pulling back and releasing the digit for his arms to drop at his sides. He looked out toward the hangar entrance, glad he couldn't see Jazz or Ratchet near the opening.
"It'sssalright ifwh they're angry with me," He said softly, "You ssshouldn't punishhh them ifwh they are. I got them in trouble."
Optimus used inhuman precision to hook a digit under his chin and lift it so Harry would meet his gaze again. He skimmed the smooth plating of Harry's cheek with the pad of his digit, so large he could pop Harry's head right off but controlled enough that there was hardly any pressure at all behind the handling.
"I promise you, they won't be angry," Optimus swore solemnly, "You performed admirably, contacting me was the correct thing to do. They may be angry with themselves for putting you in that position, but you have nothing to fear of retribution. If one of my mechs held ill will against you for this, I'd have his Autobot emblem peeled off before your sun had moved a centimeter in your sky."
Harry shut his optics, just feeling the slightly chilled touch of Optimus tracing his face with his servos, drawing miniscule circles under his helm and swiping lines down the back of his head. A thought burst to life as he enjoyed the uniquely sensitive handling, a question under a question.
"Optimus?"
"Yes, little one?" The mech cooed.
Harry, the last hour searing in his processors, still took the plunge, "Would you name me?"
The strokes stopped, "You'd like me to give you a designation?" He sounded oddly breathless.
Harry activated a single optic, narrowing it up at him until the strokes resumed. Only then did he clarify.
"Ifwh I asssked you to designate me, would you?"
"This is what Ironhide and Ratchet were fighting about before," It wasn't a question, so Harry didn't bother to nod. Instead, he tipped his helm to the side so Optimus could pet him just right, pressing in at tight joints around his neck.
Optimus paused for a thoughtful moment, blue optics gloomy like Ratchet, but not nearly so raw with it.
"If you already understood what that means for our people, I would be blessed to give you a designation. I would honor you with one as true to your spark as I could possibly make it," They weren't very formal words, but Optimus had a talent for making any sentence sound ornate.
"What if," Harry squirmed, digging even deeper, "What if I didn't like it and asked for another one?"
Optimus almost laughed, or at least Harry thought so. He chuffed more like, mouth plate twitching before calm sincerity won over.
"I'd be a touch disheartened, I'll admit. I might ask you to think over the designation for a while before rejecting it, but I would do my best to come up with a second designation, just as befitting as the first."
"And if I rejected that one?" Harry asked, and this time Optimus definitely laughed.
"You don't have very much faith in me. If you didn't like either and I was unable to identify a third option just as strong as the other two, I would have to admit defeat. Maybe you weren't meant to be gifted a designation by me at that point."
Still his choice, Harry caught that. Still his to refuse without judgment, without worry that he'd work the mech up by changing his mind. That was good, the claw clenched around his spark loosened its vice, he felt warmer than before despite the coolness of Optimus' servo.
If he had to choose any Autobot to help give him a Cybertronian name, Harry suspects it might just be Optimus Prime of all mechs.
Neither spoke again, content to appreciate the comfort of touch without strings and expectations attached.
A HUMAN DAY OF CELEBRATION IS FAST APPROACHING. THEY WILL BE DISTRACTED. BE PREPARED FOR EXTRACTION ON THAT DAY.
Harry continued watching the animated movie, careful not to react as the subtitles came and went.
The next day was vastly different from the one before.
There was a wary quiet to the air, stifled with unspoken words that hung thick like humidity between the Autobots. Ratchet and Ironhide ghosted into the hangar at midnight looking more like machines than ever and left just as quietly with the first rustle of human activity that morning.
Neither mech had looked at Harry, keeping to the distant walls and corners of the facility like they were avoiding a plague. They only spoke to report under direct prompting and then didn't move for hours on end.
Jazz stood by the entrance like Ironhide usually did, arms folded and optics flat with tightly contained anger. When he read to Harry that night, he kept the sparkling in the cup of both servos and curled his relatively short frame around him like a living shield. However, that uncharacteristic tenderness fell away like a curtain as soon as Harry was tucked back in his cot, Jazz's ire never truly left him.
Optimus and Bumblebee were perhaps the least affected, though that could only be because the Autobot leader was already morose and Bumblebee steered clear of heavier emotions.
With that in mind, Harry was eager to go out with the two mechs and leave the stifling hangar behind for the day. As soon as Mikaela and Sam arrived, a welcome burst of liveliness, they were off.
It was a scorcher that day, or so Harry was told. The soldiers were caked in sun lotion and he could hear the roar of AC from every sunken structure in the courtyard of the base. To Harry, it was a touch warmer than he was used to, but only the point that he would've favored shorts had he a human body to dress.
Mikaela brought with her a rainbow elastic band she called a Chinese jump rope, Sam had a pack of sodas slung over his shoulder and they made themselves comfortable in the shadow of the mountain near the military base. Jazz helpfully parked in the shade to keep his cab cool for breaks while Optimus rolled further out so his height could cast a shadow over them as they set up. Bumblebee transformed to his bipedal set and sat down next to his commander, once he got comfortable he switched on his radio and synth pop started blasting in the emptiness of the Nevada desert. It was surprisingly cozy considering the oppressive atmosphere not a mile away.
"So what's with the change in entourage?" Sam asked casually, swipes of white cream were smeared across his nose and ears and he had a baseball cap jammed on his head.
Jazz answered, "Ratchet and Ironhide were pulled from their regular duties, right now they inside ensuring negotiations don't get screwed up."
"Woah," Mikaela looked up from her Chinese jump rope, which she'd been tangling around her fingers to create odd, purposeful patterns across her hands, "They didn't like, hurt anyone, did they?"
"No," Harry said quickly, before anything more than apprehension could flash across their faces, "They didn't hurt anyone. Ironhide and Ratchet got into a fwhight with each other."
Optimus followed his lead, "It didn't come to blows. They just need a reminder of their many privileges, going without for a small period of time will do them good."
"That's what my mom says when she turns off the wifi for a weekend," Sam immediately looked sympathetic for the two missing mechs.
Mikaela wasn't appeased, "But you gave them your job as a punishment? You're not worried they'll mess something up while you're gone?"
"Prime isssalmosst done," Harry said. Jazz had been saying the exact same thing for a week now and Optimus hadn't hesitated to completely abandon discussions so he was pretty sure this was the very end of the process.
"Affirmative, everything will be finalized in a matter of days and then we can start acquiring proper materials for sparkling-grade armor."
Sam shot Harry a grin, "Sweet, man, looks like you'll be getting some new duds to show off. Shame it won't be 'til after the Fourth of July."
"He's a robot, Sam, I don't think he celebrates," Mikaela laughed, "Plus I think he's picking up Ironhide's English accent. They'll probably party on Boxing Day or something."
Harry giggled at the idea that he got his accent from Ironhide, who'd only spoken English within the past six months. Sam scoffed right along with him.
"He's still working on his lisp! Don't be mean! Go on and tell her, Harry, you're a red-blooded American deep in your spark now."
Harry's giggles increased as he shook his helm and was subject to even more outraged spluttering.
"I'm fhw-rom Sssurrey!" He cried, and Mikaela nodded firmly, as though approving his declaration.
"There you have it, he was in the UK before all that Sector Seven shit went down. He and Ironhide won't be celebrating the Fourth of July."
Sam rolled his eyes, "Whatever, I guess me and Mikaela will be enjoying the fireworks by ourselves. No wonder you got saddled with Harry if you're from that soggy island."
"Ooh, oh, oh oh, not anymore!" Bumblebee's steady pop station abruptly switched to get the humans' attention.
"Not anymore," Mikaela said, frowning thoughtfully back at Harry, "What does that mean?"
Harry glanced at the scout, a little thrown. Bumblebee hadn't engaged at all with his decision to change his name, staying even quieter than Ratchet on the subject. It was silly, but some part of him believed the scout wasn't aware of the issue at all. Was he also against Harry picking a name for himself?
But Mikaela had asked him something.
"I, um, I wanted to change it to sssomething more…" He didn't want to struggle through vocalizing the word Cybertronian, so he just waved vaguely over his frame. They got the message easily enough.
"You were gonna change your name without even telling us? Come on, I wanna hear what we're juggling for 'proper alien robot names'!" Sam pouted at Harry, looking absolutely ridiculous with his sunscreen and curly hair sticking up in cowlicks all around his cap.
Harry...hadn't any real contestants in mind, none of the almost-Ironhide names and quirky-Jazz names had really stood out to him. He wasn't in much of a rush either, since he could just as easily ask Lord Megatron and his followers after the Fourth of July extraction.
He didn't shrug helplessly though, instead, he shot Optimus a considering look. The mech was soft-spoken and always on a different page. Harry still didn't like him all that much, especially after he attacked that poor Decepticon, but…
So far he had been the only one to really concern himself with what Harry would truly be happy with. The others were well-meaning, Harry wasn't bothered that they'd been so excited to give him a name when he'd agreed to suggestions. Still, it meant something that Optimus could find a middle ground between Ironhide and Ratchet's opinions and hadn't yet volunteered himself in their stead.
He was waiting for Harry to ask first.
"Did you hawe sssomething in mind?" He turned to face the Autobot leader head-on.
Harry knew there was no real difference between ten seconds ago and right then, Sam and Mikaela were still mulling about and toying with the Chinese jump rope, Bumblebee and Jazz were quietly listening and enjoying the wide open area, but the space between he and Optimus shifted dramatically.
With a quick intake of oxygen, Optimus Prime switched to his bipedal form near silently. The brush of sand and whirr of motors mute to his auditory receptors as their optics locked together.
Round, awe-struck sapphire stared back into trusting emerald. There was something so old and worn in Optimus' face, and yet so fragile. Thousand-year-old porcelain, full of chips but not yet shattered. If it were more human and less conflicted, Harry might call it happiness.
"I…" He was at a loss for words, "Thank you, little one."
Harry smiled at the Autobot leader, though it couldn't be seen below his mouth plate. Optimus wasn't his favorite Autobot, but he would have to be made of stone not to see how much this meant to him. It would make for a nice goodbye-gift, wouldn't it?
"What do you think my name sssshould be?" He asked with a gentleness of his own.
Optimus didn't lose that startling, half-crumbled vulnerability, but he collected himself anyway. He didn't look away, didn't even shutter his optics, not for a moment. It was as if he were frightened the moment would pass without him if he wasn't clutching on with both servos.
"Right," He said, "Right."
Sam might've mumbled something teasing under his breath then, but it wasn't caught in the charged air surrounding Harry and Optimus.
"Harry, the Allspark robbed you of something great that day," Optimus began, as solemn as ever.
"You didn't deserve it, but I admit, I can only be grateful that it happened. The moment your spark beat its first you were priceless. A new hope, a bright light in the darkness we've cast over ourselves."
He was going to take this longer and grander than Harry had expected, embarrassment kept his wings rigid in the breeze as Optimus continued, dripping with worshipful sincerity.
"Not only for what you are but who you are. You're kind, even to those you dislike. Yet brave enough to challenge perceived wrongs."
Was he praising Harry's antagonistic behavior toward him?
"There's a fire in you that deserves to be stoked. You deserve all our people had to offer you in our golden age, and I'm confident you are one we need more than ever in our darkest hour. In due time, you will be a noble warrior Cybertron will be proud to rally behind."
If Harry were human, he'd be bright red by now. Bashfulness smothered him into silence even as he couldn't be the first to tear his optics away from the ancient Autobot leader praising him so highly for virtually nothing.
"You're not just of Cybertron, though. You were sparked here on Earth and if you'd permit me, your designation should honor that. The humans have a proverb to be told in low times, promising a hope even in the bleakest of moments. I admire the sentiment and I can think of nothing more fitting of your spirit."
Optimus' voice wasn't raising, but a swell seemed to fill the air as Harry stared up at the mech, transfixed.
"Every cloud has a silver lining. This being a reference to the light of Earth's sun shining through even the thickest storm clouds, a beautiful phenomenon. I would call you Silverline in its image, if you accept it."
It settled over him like a magic spell.
Silverline, Silverline, Silverline.
It was strange, sounded a bit like a metro trolley if he were honest.
Silverline, Silverline, Silverline.
It was Earthly, but not a human name. Meaningful, pretty in a way. Not a claim or an attempt to diverge from norms, a true, different name. One for a different creature from Harry Potter. A different future to reach for, different roots to invoke, Harry thought it stood on its own.
Silverline, Silverline, Silverline.
He liked it, the longer he mulled it over in his processors the more he liked it.
Harry would never be forgotten, he'd spent eleven years as Harry Potter. He wouldn't forget that Harry had parents who were dead, James and Lily Potter. He'd had relatives who hated him, Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley Dursley. He'd had a cupboard to sleep in, ratty trainers, specky glasses, and wild black hair.
He hadn't been happy as Harry Potter, but it had meant something. He hadn't made much of an impact on the world around him, but people and stepped in and out of his life and it had meant something.
Harry Potter had dreamed of being whisked away by a new family.
Silverline was orchestrating his own rescue to reunite with his guardian Lord Megatron. A natural progression to the story, if Harry looked at it a certain way.
If Silverline looked at it a certain way.
A burst of coding swam across his vision, blinding digits blurring overhead as boxes popped in and out of existence crunching and computing exactly what Harry wanted. He didn't know how he knew, but when he carefully input Optimus' name in the designation inquiry, he knew what would happen next.
Vertigo flushed through his systems, the world blackened for a second and he slipped to his knees in the next moment.
"Harry, what's wrong?" Mikaela asked in his crackling audio receptors, but nothing was wrong. Already his programs were booting up again, fresh and speedy recovery under a new system designation. He hadn't been prepared for the single moment of nothingness, but with the immediate return of his senses, came the change he'd wished for.
Silverline picked himself back up and smiled, "I'm fwhine. And...pleassse call me Sssilverline now."
His proud proclamation was hampered by the stubborn lisp, he would need to practice harder on his S's.
His optics were functioning again, adjusting and readjusting until Mikaela's worried face was in focus.
"Silverline," she repeated. Backing up to give him room to stand, she and Sam exchanged a look.
"Okay, Silverline, huh," Sam quirked a brow, "Could've chosen something more badass in my opinion, but still. It's nice."
Silverline nodded, casting a sunny smile Optimus' way. Sam was right, it wasn't flashy like Ironhide or lofty like Optimus Prime. It was nice. Nice in the way Harry had been when he was human. Silverline was glad he'd chosen Optimus in the end, he knew that the mech would also remember Harry Potter with him.
An addition, not erasure.
He had to do a double-take when he got a good look at Optimus, kneeled in the sand as he was, a gleaming statue from a long-gone empire in the right light. His face, though, couldn't be so easily placed in a distant past.
Joy. Shy, thin joy fluttered about his faceplates like it wasn't quite sure how to properly settle. Awkward, still so awkward, but Silverline found the near-painfully open flicker of sunshine in his optics so much more endearing than the regular, stoic stiffness. His mouth was parted and he was staring down at Silverline like he held the mech's very spark in his servos.
For once, there wasn't fatigue and grief blackening Optimus' edges, the stains and chips in his armor weren't so obvious in light of his expression. He didn't look anything like an alien leader at the brink of extinction, much too full of simple delight. Only Bumblebee had shed his age to a greater extent, only Jazz had further beat back the murkiness in his optics. Neither had managed both.
It was a human expression, or one so identical there was no distinguishing between the two.
"Silverline," Optimus murmured, not a touch of sanctity in his humble bliss.
Silverline...could he not like someone and still feel so driven to remove the space between them? To do his best to push the corners of Prime's mouth plates even further upward?
Hmm, maybe he only liked Optimus a little bit.
"Thank you," He said, utterly confident he'd made the right choice. He was brimming with happiness, weightless and warm, a sun socketed in his chest judging by feeling alone. It was practically overflowing, he danced aimlessly, twirling in between Optimus' legs with wings fanned wide.
An optimal status rumble revved in his throat, separate from his cheery whistling. It colored the desert in even sweeter tones, bundled him up in contentedness like pillowy quilts.
Yeah, he liked him just a tiny little bit.
Time passed in a haze of spins and swoops, the wind caught at the tips of his wings, Optimus' optics followed as doggedly as his shadow. A moment of intimacy that would only feel like goodbye in hindsight.
Silverline wasn't sure how long the moment lasted. It wasn't long enough to move the sun, but enough for Bumblebee to scrounge up the resolve to interrupt.
"Life's like a jump rope/Up, down, up, down, up, down, up, down, yeah/'Cause life's like a jump rope!"
It was loud and rude and worked like a charm, cutting through the optimal signal like tissue paper.
"Oh yeah!" Mikaela said, "I wanted to teach you guys Chinese jump rope."
She held up the rainbow band and Silverline slowed to a halt curiously. Both he and Sam eyed the rope with matching bemusement.
-Ventilate, Prime.- Bumblebee transmitted.
Mikaela had begun explaining the rules of the game and Silverline wanted to hear them, so he only briefly peeked up at the mech. A short chuff immediately left him at the picture Optimus made, curled into himself with servos pressed flat against his face plates.
He didn't budge, though a huge intake of air and hasty release shook his frame.
-A few programs crashed. I- I think I almost rebooted.-
He sounded dazed, but Bumblebee wasn't alarmed from the audible, whirring cackle wracking his alt form. Silverline took his position in the box made of the jump rope clinging to his ankle.
Bumblebee rolled forward, slowly colliding with his leader until Optimus sat flat on his rear, face still buried in his palms. -I can't believe you're handling this worse than Ratchet, Jazz is going to be polishing my pauldrons for a holovid of this.-
-Was that what offling is like? I feel fatigued, that was...too much.-
Bumblebee's jeering laughs increased sharply in volume and didn't stop until Sam and Mikaela had both slipped from the ropes and it was his turn to complete the jumping pattern.
Both humans were ignoring the mechs admirably, backs turned whenever they could manage it. Silverline followed suit and immersed himself in figuring out how to jump just right in his body. He wasn't good at aiming precisely and mostly played support for Sam and Mikaela, but he had fun anyway and made a mental note to request a jump rope of his own when he was returned to Lord Megatron.
Notes:
Optimus: Don't mind my subordinates, even the thought of losing you is killing them.
Harry: Um, if I did leave, hypothetically- they wouldn't actually die right?
Optimus: Not physically. Probably.
Harry: Oh okay, good. Right. *silent screaming*
Chapter Text
Silverline.
Ratchet stared down at the floor. Had been for hours now without any humans to put at ease or a sparkling to entertain, his day consisted of firmly locked joints and highly sensitive seismic activity monitoring. As stationary as any human device.
Silverline.
It was a good designation, he'd told Jazz so when he'd announced the news over his comm channel and he'd meant it. Prime had done an excellent job, Ratchet couldn't find fault in how carefully he'd crafted the designation to fit the sparkling just right
Silverline.
And yet, Ratchet struggled to keep on task, to push that particular coding out of his central processor and yet. It was impossible to ignore, sunk down deep inside. Too close to his spark to even pretend it was a passing thought, shame and embarrassment and regret churned it up to the surface constantly.
What a petty, scrap-metal mech he was that upon hearing Harry's new designation, the first thought in his helm was soaked in jealousy.
Ratchet was supposed to be the one to redesignate Harry.
It wasn't true, it was the sulking fit unworthy of even a Cybertronian of Silverline's maturity. He wasn't Silverline's parental unit and wasn't owed any special privileges over him, least of all against his will. It was this same ugly side of him that ensured he hadn't even been there when Silverline accepted his new designation.
Ratchet knew all this, and yet knowing didn't make it any easier to swallow.
He didn't assist in creating Silverline, didn't provide the parts or nurse the spark or even check him over upon activation. He was just the old mech who knew how to heat his servos to an optimum temperature for a first-frame sparkling.
It was so easy to remember details like this when he was alone, when Ha-Silverline wasn't staring up at him like he hung the stars. When adoration wasn't swimming in his green optics or when he wasn't nestled against Ratchet like he had been created for the sole purpose of being protected in the medic's embrace.
It was so easy to act like a fully functional, stable Autobot when it wasn't even easier to pretend he had a sparkling.
Perhaps that was why he'd lost his temper so spectacularly with Ironhide. The fighting wasn't new, they had very different philosophies about raising the last living sparkling on an alien planet. But it had remained semi-civil and kept clear and away from their fragile charge, as it should be.
However, that wretched day, maybe Ironhide had hit it square on its pathetic head. This was the closest any of them would get to being part of a family unit and it had gone straight to Ratchet's helm. Oh and how it had hurt to get that thrown back in his face, for someone to look him square in the optics and tell him Silverline wasn't his.
Ridiculous, it was ridiculous. To lose control over a half-baked delusion getting yanked away like a child's security blanket. Even more so, it was mortifying that he knew all this and it still stung that Silverline had chosen another to give him a designation.
Bumblebee had more grace than him in the matters of sparkling favor and the scout was less than half his age. Pathetic, so pathetic. Prime had to be regretting even allowing him into the unit by this point, such an illustrious position and he'd sank into a full meltdown in the center of their base.
He didn't even deserve to interact with Silverline anymore, not with how untrustworthy he'd proved himself. The sparkling was better off with Jazz and Prime, probably didn't want anything to do with him after that ghastly display. Who would? Whenever he was given half a chance to bond with Silverline he took it too far, became too emotional, craved too much.
He'd look at Silverline, fresh and clean of their people's sins. He took in gossamer plating and expressive wings and optics that offered his entire self up without reserve. Ratchet took it all in and found himself shuttering away afterimages of long-dead sparklings softly keening for relief, the ghosts of femmes killing themselves in an effort to keep their children functioning just another day, the sensation of filling yet another ditch with tiny frames he'd once introduced to Cybertron himself.
He'd gaze down at Silverline snuggled in his arms, with sheer, unending terror.
Weak as he was, that was all it took. Every sparkbeat felt like the tick of a timer counting down, a bomb that was liable to go off at any second for weeks on end and Ratchet was desperate to diffuse it.
Silverline was so good in the way only young sparklings could be, ten twists of the planet around its sun filled with misery and solitude wasn't enough to beat back a generous spark and unbending compassion. Ratchet had been forgiven of his outbursts more times than he deserved, but this was the final straw.
He'd scared Silverline, even Megatron hadn't managed that one. How pathetic, how utterly and completely pathetic. He should just-
"Ratchet."
In the days long silence, Ironhide's soft utterance roared through the hangar like a blaster shot.
In the next moment, a servo clamped down on his wrist and pulled it away from his frame. It was only then that he realized he had been moving, not nearly as statuesque as he'd believed himself to be. He was slowly picking away at a badly welded wound, scratching through the cracks and into the wires until he'd reached delicate circuitry.
Ratchet stared back into Ironhide's flat face, startled to find warnings blinking before his optics, how long they'd been there he couldn't guess.
Shuttering his optics he quickly dismissed the warnings and tugged free of Ironhide's grip, "I'm fine."
"Your servo is covered in energon," Ironhide snorted, folding his arms before himself imperiously.
Ratchet looked down at the servo in question and found the very tips of his digits electric-blue with energon stains, a quick scan told him he'd nicked a thin wire before reaching his circuits and it was oozing slowly into his vambrace.
He huffed and shifted away from Ironhide to carefully sear the wire shut, "Barely a few drops, you glitch."
"I'm sure Silverline would've been comforted by that."
Ratchet couldn't stop the flinch that wracked his frame.
"Cease," He muttered, "I don't want to fight any longer."
He was no longer looking at Ironhide, but he knew the mech was leaning in further, looming with the aid of his taller frame.
"If I was aiming for a fight, you'd know. I'm serious, Silverline fret over you a lot last time you were deployed. Don't give him more to stress over."
Ratchet hadn't known Ironhide to be so precise with his blows before, he twisted his head around to stare him down with fire in his optics, "I won't be mocked, especially by you."
Ratchet expected cool contempt in the weapon specialists' optics, perhaps a daring grin better fit for a sparring match. He was brought up short by the neutral stance of his peds and wary confusion smeared across his faceplates.
"What?" Ironhide said, "Do you think I'm lying or something? The sparkling barely tolerates Jazz's dents, I can't imagine how he'd respond to you bleeding energon right in front of him."
Ratchet felt wrong-footed, rearing back from what could only be stabs at his fall from Silverline's regard, but spoken without a hint of guile. If it had come from someone more devious he may truly believe he was being coaxed into striking first to allow Ironhide the excuse of self defense in the ensuing battle, but it was Ironhide, and so he was at a loss.
Comprehension dawned on Ironhide before Ratchet, which was incredibly disconcerting. He could only watch in hopes that some sense would be made of this exchange.
Incredulity soon followed, chasing away the last of the confusion coloring Ironhide's expression, "You virus-addled junkard," he exclaimed, "You can't be defective enough to believe Silverline severed your bond!"
"We don't have a bond, that's the issue!" Ratchet was quick to hiss back, "I keep overstepping when we aren't connected by any bond."
Ironhide dismissed him with a callous wave, "I meant figuratively, you're his favorite Autobot by far."
Whether or not it was meant maliciously, a new wave of guilt and misery crashed over Ratchet's helm and he shrank below the blow, "Not any longer, I scared him. He hasn't even looked at me since."
"Ya ain't looked at him either so yer pro'lly even," A new voice called out frostily and both Ironhide and Ratchet jumped in surprise.
Jazz stood at the entrance, flinty with a firm press to his mouth plates.
"You're back, are Silverline and Prime returning too?" Ironhide asked.
"Affirmative, they wanted to see Sam an' Mikaela off 'fore Bumblebee took 'em back to the city," Jazz strode purposefully into the hangar, "So I wanted to make a few things clear in the meantime."
Ratchet couldn't imagine Jazz dispensing any new reprimands, he'd been thorough in his scalding diatribe while Prime was soothing Silverline. However, he settled in for more. Steeling his spark against whatever else his first officer could punish him with.
"Stop ignorin' Silverline, he deserves a damned good apology an' then some sign you two ain't mad at him. This is gettin' handled right now, get me?"
A startled noise escaped Ratchet's throat as he shuttered his optics in bewilderment, Ironhide matched him with a loud guffaw.
"He thinks we're mad at him?"
Jazz dipped his head, optics flat, "Fer snitchin' when ya scared him. Prime an' I let it be 'cause we thought the two o'ya would be scramblin' to clear things up with him, instead I find ya broodin' like a couple'a third-frame sparklin's."
"It's Ratchet who's brooding! He's convinced himself Silverline hates him now or something. I was just trying not to force him into forgiving me or anything," Ironhide protested.
Ratchet clenched his servos, "How could Silverline trust me again after this? He should want nothing to do with me at this point."
"Yer both glitched," Jazz said, "The lil' bots been with us fer long enough that ya'll should know him by now. He don't forgive on a whim, 'Bee's still fightin' that uphill battle. He's got a spine and ain't afraid to show it, so give him more credit."
While Ironhide stood in shamefaced silence Jazz fixed his gaze on Ratchet, "An' you. Pull your helm out of your miserable aft, I can smell the self pity from here. Yer not avoidin' him to spare him the agony of yer presence, yer just terrified of bein' rejected. Did ya scare Silverline, affirmative. Will he pro'lly be standoffish fer a bit, affirmative. But if ya really cared you'd do what Bumblebee is doin' and stick it out. One mistake ain't gonna destroy what you have, but abandonin' him when the goin' gets tough just might."
It was more than that, a mulish part of Ratchet insisted. He was terrified of a lot more than rejection. But Jazz had aimed true and cut him down to the core, leaving him gaping and far too exposed in the enclosed space of the headquarters. It felt like he had been peeled out of his inner armor in a crisp breeze, setting every raw sensory receptor alight.
"Sorry," Was all he could muster up, hoarse and weak even to his own auditory receptors.
Jazz made a disgusted noise, "Don't apologize to me, I already know yer sorry- ya better be after all Prime an' I have said. Go tell the sparkling who thinks ya don't like him anymore."
That thought horrified and galvanized him in equal measure. No sparkling should blame themselves for feeling unsafe, they especially shouldn't expect anger and resentment from their caretakers. It was wrong, in worse taste than even faulty programming.
Ratchet had no idea what experience had lead Silverline to believe he could ever deserve to be ignored, but that belief would never be met with anything but sharp contradiction in their base.
If apologizing and subjecting himself to Silverline's newly obtained indifference was the cost of easing that guilt, it would be worth it.
Jazz must've seen the resolve blossoming in his processors, for he nodded sharply in approval and clapped them both on the shoulder harshly enough to nearly scratch their paint.
"This'll be resolved by sundown," He said with a touch of cheer that was at odds with his threatening atmosphere.
"Yessir," Ironhide saluted, just the right side of sincere. Ratchet was quick to follow his earnest example.
To their relief, the silver mech seemed appeased and, with one final, measuring look, sauntered off. He brushed past them and further into the hangar, which gave Prime the room he needed to roll into the hangar not long after
Though he entered on near silent wheels and didn't speak a word, he may as well have danced onto a stage with the immediate attention he commanded. Even the humans outside had stilled to get a peek of him and his charge before Ironhide resumed his duty of glowering at them out of Silverline's sight.
Prime transformed in a twist of components and plating with Silverline nestled safely in his large servos, spindly frame wrapped around his thumb in a way Ratchet knew allowed Prime to feel the sparkbeat thrumming against his wafer-thin chest plating.
With a curt nod to the two of them, Prime hurried to tuck Silverling back in his nest. He pulled the soft fabrics all about the sparkling, caressing the narrow line of his wings with steady servos. Silverline trilled contentedly, and though he couldn't bring himself to smile, Ratchet found amusement in the helpless way Prime folded like wet tissue paper, melting into something gentler than his years should allow.
All too soon, the warm scene closed off before Ratchet and Ironhide as Prime pulled back enough to fix them both with an expectant stare. Silverline didn't notice the distraction, rifling through his nest for a book he had yet to finish, but Ratchet knew he was out of time.
He and Ironhide slowly crossed the hangar, approaching Silverline's cot with all the anxiousness of a Decepticon camp raid. It was easier to sneak when the floor wasn't made of concrete though, Silverline followed their ruckus until they were pinned by a pair of round optics a few steps from his ring of space heaters.
With a battle-guard mouth plate obscuring a good third of Silverline's face, it should've been difficult to read his expression. However, whatever emotion his fluttering wings didn't give away was on full display in the glittering depths of his optics. Apprehension, confusion, wariness, it may as well have been another shade of neon green for how visible it was.
"It's a good designation," Ironhide began, he was staring somewhere between Silverline and his own peds, "Silverline suits you."
Ratchet was quick to join in, "Yes, congrats on finding one you liked. It's a designation to be proud of."
Silverline gazed up at them both, servos wrapped so tautly in his sheets they just might rip under his claws, "Thanks."
Ratchet's spark felt like it was hollowing in on itself, too large and yet too fragile all at once as he took in the hesitance he'd put in Silverline. It was awful, he'd honestly rather go brawl with their last Decepticon foe than keep forcing the sparkling to speak with him, but Jazz was right. He couldn't just hide for his own sake.
"We wanted to apologize," Ratchet blurted out, lowering himself to his knees before his tiny charge. Proud Ironhide dropped right down with him, and it wasn't nearly low enough to see optic-to-optic with Silverline, but hopefully it made them less intimidating.
"We should've done it sooner but we didn't want to-" Lie. Ratchet swallowed and tried again, "I didn't think you'd want to speak with me. But that's- you should know. We were sorry from the very astrosecond we realized we were causing you distress."
Ironhide dipped his helm, "We shouldn't have lost our tempers like that, but we were only angry with each other. We were never angry with you, none of that was your fault."
"You don't have to forgive us, we just wanted you to know how sorry we are," Ratchet tacked on awkwardly, and his half-hazardly constructed script came to an abrupt end.
Was it sincere enough? Had he made Silverline uncomfortable at any point? He didn't dare peek at Prime for a read on how they'd done, he could only sit in apprehension for Silverline's response.
The sparkling didn't keep them waiting, he squirmed and twittered nervously under their joint attention but still didn't mull on his words for very long before braving the silence.
"Y-you're not angry with me?"
"Didn't cross our processors even once," Ironhide immediately swore with Ratchet bobbing his helm furiously in agreement.
Silverline eyed them cautiously, wary of their sincerity. It stung, but by Primus Ratchet was going to make Silverline believe this one truth above all else before he allowed the conversation to drop.
"But I ssssnitched, I got you in trouble. You weren't ewhen yelling at me and I ssstill-"
"You did the right thing! I got in trouble because I was behaving like an utter glitch and that's on me." Ironhide interrupted.
Ratchet watched him, pity sinking in his gut at the utter self-loathing wracking his frame. It had been the mech's jerk-reaction to attack Ratchet for making their leader play referee to a petty squabble, and had Ratchet actually done so, a fairly understandable one.
Regardless of whatever peaceful, civilian roles they may have played a millennia ago, they were soldiers to the core now. Hardened veterans who knew how to one-hit kill with a blaster and how to just make it hurt when an utter aft of an Autobot picked a fight. At the most, they would've wrestled and maybe carved one more scratch into the myriad of lines already breaking up their paint. They didn't need Prime breaking them up like wayward rookies, or at least they shouldn't.
But they had, because Silverline had been the one to bring it to Prime's attention. Because Silverline had thought it was necessary to seek out guidance and protection when his personal guard and medic were standing right next to him. That changed things immensely and Ironhide had recognized that the moment he took a good look at the sparkling.
Too bad it had been a moment too late.
"But you were so mad," Silverline was whispering like a confession, guilt and fear in the hunch of his spine.
Ironhide looked like he was choking on the sight so Ratchet tried his best to help out.
"Do you remember how angry you were with Optimus our first night here?" Ratchet asked.
Silverline tilted his head, uncertain, but he nodded.
"You were so angry and you kept feeling angry even after he left, so when I got your attention you were accidentally angry with me too. Once you realized how you acted, were you really angry with me?"
"No," Silverline said, inching forward, "M'sssory Ratchet, I said mean things then."
Ratchet crooned, couldn't help it when the sparkling looked so in need of comforting, "None of that, little one, I already forgave you. I just wanted you to remember how that felt, so you'd know how Ironhide feels."
"It's true," Ironhide said, "I lost my temper and wanted to fight with Ratchet, so I didn't detect how distressed you were. As soon as I realized you were the one to tell Prime I felt just as awful as you did that night."
This was definitely the right track to take. Slowly, the confusion was leaving Silverline's optics as he hesitantly put together what they were trying to tell him.
"Ssso you were only angry with Ratchet…" It wasn't a question but they both nodded sharply, watching as fear gradually gave way to relief like ice melting under the weak rays of spring.
"I-I fwhorgive you, then." He announced.
Ironhide spine snapped straight, wonder in his face, "You don't have to forgive either of us," he still managed croakily, "We're just here to apologize."
Silverline looked back down at his lap, kicking his peds under the covers until he was half unravelled from his nest. Finally he spoke in hushed tones, "You were both mean."
Ratchet and Ironhide jerked closer, sparks thudding hard in their chests but whatever words they scrounged for fell from their servos when the sparkling continued.
"But mostly to each other, did, um, you apologize to each other too?" He still wasn't looking at them.
Ratchet and Ironhide sat back, eyeing each other now, bewildered.
Would Silverline truly forgive them if they apologized to each other for arguing? Why did he care whether or not they had gotten over their grievances with one another? Unless it was to make sure it didn't happen again?
Still, whatever the reason, Ratchet would humor the odd prompt.
"I'm sorry, Ironhide," Ratchet said, a little blankly.
Ironhide nodded, "I'm sorry too."
As one, they turned back to Silverline apprehensively, who had finally lifted his optics from his pointed peds.
Strangely, this seemed to have been the very best thing for them, as Silverline was now brimming with relief, wings swinging happily behind him as he beamed up at them. Ironhide ventilated in a dramatic whoosh of hot air, slumping as though he'd completed some arduous task.
Ratchet had settled somewhere in the grey realm of utter loss, no longer trusting any of his predictions as Silverline hopped from his cot and took a few tiny steps closer to them.
"Ssso no one's mad anymore?" He asked with burgeoning hope, servos clenching like he was resisting the urge to lift them, to be picked up and pet.
Silverline could've asked them if they wanted to find a replenishing energon mine and they still would've said no, it wasn't even a conscious decision.
With a happy chirrup, Silverline crossed the ring of heaters and hopped right into Ironhide's palm, wings fanned and servos digging into an offered digit for balance.
Ironhide couldn't have looked more relieved if he tried, faceplates assembled in a manner more befitting a prisoner narrowly escaping execution than a mech forgiven for a squabble. With agonizing slowness, like Silverline could disappear at any moment, he ran a digit along the slope of his helm.
Obligingly, perhaps with a touch too much patience to be anything but humoring, the sparkling leaned into the touch, encouraging the digit to continue its path down the line of his spine, between his shoulder blades.
"Silverline," Ironhide vented, and Ratchet wasn't sure it was voluntary, before he carefully enfolding Silverline in his embrace, right up against the piping of his throat and tucked directly under his chin.
Silverline cooed, just as thirsty for contact it seems, as he was quick to worm himself into a comfortable position draped over pistons like a kitten. He was swiftly obscured from view as Ironhide curled himself around the sparkling, cupping and stroking so gently he could've been handling porcelain instead.
Ratchet knew it was time to give them a moment, Ironhide definitely needed cuddle time after finding out Silverline had been frightened of his wrath since the fight. It seemed to be something Silverline needed as well, a physical reassurance that what he had believed was truly false.
He looked at Prime then, near forgotten in his place behind the cot and smiled wanly. His leader nodded, not returning the gesture, but he'd thawed significantly since the start of the conversation. He no longer looked to have been carved from ice and disappointment, at least.
Jazz was quick to mirror the prime, calling Ratchet over to look discuss possible materials to use for Silverline's armor like nothing had happened, like Ironhide wasn't whispering sparkfelt apologies into the space he'd created just for Silverline.
Ratchet eagerly complied, glad to be back in the fold. He yearned to be cuddling with Silverline too, indulging in untarnished affection and sparkling chirps. He dearly wished to press his own gratitude into the tiny bot's plating, but he wasn't entitled to that attention and this time he swore he'd remember it.
Besides, he'd have plenty of time to reconnect later.
TODAY IS THE DAY. BE READY.
Silverline stared down at the box by his cot, somber. He had tried to read as quickly as possible, and had gotten through more than half the stack given to him, but there were still stories he hadn't been able to crack open. Would he ever get to read them now?
And his puzzles, was this how Dudley felt when he had to narrow down the amount of toys he brought for every trip? It was a heavy feeling, maybe even a greedy one, to know he'd only finished a single puzzle and would leave entire boxes unsolved.
Lord Megatron might get him more, Silverline tried to cheer himself up with that thought, but it wouldn't be these- his very first gifts of any sort.
Even the sheets on his cot would be missed, thin and cheap though they were. They were a gift given entirely for his comfort, and he had fond memories curled up atop them, dozing under the silent guard of Ironhide or with Jazz whispering the final lines of a chapter in the cozy sunset. He'd never had that kind of care before.
Then there was tiny toy Lord Megatron, Silverline wasn't sure he could leave him behind. He pulled it off the cot to inspect and already he felt reluctantly soothed with the weight of it in his lap.
It cheap toy plane that only truly resembled Lord Megatron in color, meaningless before the real thing. Silverline hugged it to his chest, but this had been Lord Megatron when he'd felt utterly alone, when something in him keened with loss, cried out for the comfort that had never been received in the first place.
"What do you think?" He whispered to the toy, "Do you think you can come along?"
Toy Lord Megatron didn't answer, but Silverline would never know for sure unless he tried to take him. The Autobots wouldn't notice, he didn't like being separate from toy Lord Megatron for too long. Sometimes even Ratchet couldn't chase away the ache of missing Lord Megatron and the grey plane was the only thing that came close to bandaging the wound.
"Wha's got ya lookin' so serious over there?" Jazz asked suddenly, huge face lurching into view.
Silverline squeaked, nearly dropping toy Lord Megatron.
"N-nothing!"
That wouldn't fool anyone, and Jazz was already studying him, critically observing his body language and expression for clues Silverline was desperate to hide.
So he blurted out, "I was just picking what to bring outside."
Jazz mulled over this for a moment, blue optics gleaming. Finally, he shifted into a crouch before Silverline with a downward pinch to his mouth plates.
"I don't think Sam an' Mikaela are comin' today, lil' spark. It's s'posed to be some big Earth holiday today an' they out partyin'."
"He probably knows what the holiday is if you tell him," Ironhide pointed out and Jazz's features lit up.
"Oh, right! Pre-Sparkling Harry pro'lly partied on Independence Day too! Then ya know they'll be busy."
Ironhide grunted, folding his arms as he shot Jazz an impatient look. There must've been a comm message to go along with that look, because Jazz once again switched, energy plummeting as he looked down at Silverline contritely.
"Oh, did ya wanna celebrate too? It won't be what yer used ta, but the humans runnin' 'round this base have got some stuff planned an' me an' Bee could meet up in the city an' get our own things too if you-"
"That's okay, Jazz. It's not a British holiday, I wouldn't know what to do," Silverline interrupted, picking himself up from the box of toys to trot up to the second in command.
"I just wanted to go outside today."
Jazz relaxed and picked himself up with a loud whirr of pistons. He was thoughtful enough to include Silverline in his next comm transmission.
-Reporting; Silverline, Ironhide and I are going outside for some fresh air.-
-Acknowledged,- Prime immediately responded, -If it's just you three be careful not to stray too far while playing, there's been suspicious activity in the state territory neighboring this one.-
Jazz chuckled, sharing a teasing smirk with Silverline, -How far do you think we'll be wandering? I think we can fit a ball game in that spot Bumblebee always takes Sam and Mikaela.-
Silverline stroked the pointed wing of his toy, just where he wanted to be, then.
-We'll be careful, Prime.- Ironhide projected a sigh across his transmission before leaving his post by the entrance to grab Silverline's attention.
"So what do you want to do? Take whatever you want."
Oh, he hadn't decided yet. Silverine gazed back down at the box. He sadly tore his gaze from the books and puzzles and moved to things he could actually bring outside, like the blocks and the ball. He'd only played with the blocks a little, building toy Lord Megaron a throne and sometimes a house. However, the plan would work best with the ball.
He picked up his shredded, pin-pricked baseball and turned back to Jazz and Ironhide.
"Let's go!"
Almost there, his wings shivered in excitement. He was almost there.
Silverline wouldn't get a warning when it happened, Frenzy had explained as carefully as possible- with a scout constantly monitoring for transmissions nearby it was too risky to speak in case the frequency was picked up. He would be in total radio silence until the mission was complete.
"There it goes!" Ironhide warned, lightly tossing the ball like one would a tissue into a wastebasket.
Silverline knew to let it land first, and it struck the soft ground so hard it bounced high again, to Ironhide's torso and far above Silverline's helm. He raced after it, digging his claws into the sand and flaring his wings out behind him for a boost.
He snatched it out of the air, wincing as his digits stabbed into the soft leather and yanked him nearly to his knees by his wrists. He came to a skidding halt, kicking sand and small rocks everywhere. A healthy cloud had already risen from his antics and coated him in a sheet of dirt so thick he looked a solid tan in the light.
Silverline spun back around with a whistle, he sighted both Ironhide and Jazz watching him closely, but with near-matching grins of enjoyment splashed across their faceplates.
He smiled behind his guard and sprinted back to them.
It wouldn't come from the ground, his retriever. Not with Ratchet checking and rechecking regularly on any seismic activity in the area. Sand was easier to sneak through, but there was no way even the smallest mech could close enough without detection. There were no natural caves or underground waterways to sneak by either, they had checked.
"Jazz!" He called, throwing the ball as hard as he could as high as he could throw it up at the silver mech.
Jazz still had to lunge forward to catch it, swooping in with servos outstretched and grabbing it out of the air in one sure swipe. He let out a ha of victory and shot Ironhide a sickly sweet smile.
The mech took one look and was already running, his helm craned backward to keep an eye on his unit superior.
"Nice try," Jazz sang, mostly for Silverline's sake, and then threw the ball much harder than he'd ever dare with Silverline alone. It sailed through the air like a jet, punching right past their dust cloud and soaring far over Ironhide to land in a dune right before the mouth of the base. It was a good quarter of a mile away.
"Fragger!" Ironhide bellowed, not slowing down for a moment as he chased after the fallen baseball.
"Language!" Jazz returned, and then he tipped his helm back and laughed.
This was it.
The dull roar of the noon patrol coming fast overhead drowned out anything else Silverline was hearing. The wind in his audio receptors, the slide of sand over metal, the soft thuds of Ironhide still running for the ball, it was all erased by the scream of an engine rocketing through the sky.
Silverline looked up to watch the jet cross the horizon, a glinting point cleanly bisecting clouds in its wake. He carefully stepped further from Jazz until he was centered directly under the plane's pathway.
On his way to the final position, he plucked his tiny toy Lord Megatron from the sand, brushing him clean and clutching him tightly to himself. He lowered his helm, taking in the desert scenery, the flush of green brush against the yellow, the black smear of Ironhide so determined to get the ball and probably cursing Jazz to high heaven all the while. He looked to Jazz, barely easing from his mirth, helm tipping slowly down with an easy grin fixed firmly in place.
Silverline committed the entirety of it to memory. He didn't want to forget a single moment.
"I'll miss them," He breathed to his toy Lord Megatron, a confession he never thought he'd make the first day he'd been brought to the base.
He would though, he would miss them fiercely. Ratchet's tender touches and even tenderer spark. Ironhide's confidence, the ease in which he'd accepted Silverline and took him underwing. So ready to give and teach. Jazz's dual ability to slice to the heart of matters with unerring accuracy and mellow the atmosphere in turns, his insistence on knowing even the human parts of Silverline.
He would even miss Optimus, though he'd only really liked him a little at the very end of his stay. Silverline knew the Autobot leader had only tried his best for the sparkling, even if he was mean to Decepticons and terrible to speak to at times. There was an awkward kindness there, Silverline had found, a secret pocket of gentleness that had been dedicated to Silverline for longer than he knew.
Bumblebee...Silverline regretted avoiding him so ferociously, for there was little now to reflect on. He suspected there were redeemable qualities under the lies and deceit Bumblebee had already shown. He had a sense of humor that often gelled perfectly with Jazz's. There had to be a truth to his compassion if the two teenagers liked him so much, they were always handled so gently and bonded closely with the mech.
Bumblebee had tried to reach out to Silverline, to support him and take care of him whenever given the opportunity, and so if Silverline couldn't miss the scout, he would miss the potential they'd had to...not avoid each other. He couldn't with confidence say he would like Bumblebee, but his presence wasn't intolerable at all by the end.
Sam and Mikaela, he would also miss. He had never had friends as a human, Dudley had scared off anyone who tried. They were also much older than him and prone to gross kissy stuff, but Harry had soaked up every bit of goofy fun they'd given him. They were good people, quick to accept differences and quicker to pave over them with similarities. Even Major Lennox considered him an alien first and foremost, the two teenagers had clearly found the ten year old part much more endearing.
He didn't think they would miss him too badly, the main purpose of their trips to the base was to hang out with Bumblebee and snoop for information about the Autobots. He hoped they were having a good Independence Day nevertheless.
"Silverline!" Ironhide suddenly cried out, terror and fury in equal parts. He had the ball in one fist and had turned back in time, so far away though, it was hard to see his expression.
Silverline knew what he was looking at and didn't bother to track the gaze. Instead, he looked down at his toy.
Why miss them when there are so many Decepticons you haven't met yet? Lord Megatron might respond.
Or maybe, You won't miss them when you're really here with me. I'm greater than all of them combined and I'll care for you.
"Silverline move!" Jazz screamed, sprinted faster than he'd ever seen, gouging huge scoops of sand from the earth with each step. So close to Silverline, he could identify every shade of panic overtaking the blue of his optics.
You will miss them. They did their best to care for you, it's natural. They'll miss you too. But you're where you belong now, with me. You aren't alone. Hmm, close enough. The ache pulsed within him, he wanted this to be over so badly.
Jazz was swift, but spybots were swifter.
The leopard-shaped Cybertronian, Ravage, tackled Silverline just as silver servos reached out to pull him to safety.
Jazz hit the dirt while the bird-shaped Cybertronian, Laserbeak, barely broke his comrade's fall on wide, straining wings.
All three skimmed the dunes and yellow flowers of the landscape at neck break speed, barely dodging cacti and rocks as Silverline spread his own wings in an effort to stabilize the hurtling descent.
A freefall from an unsuspecting patrol jet to very nearly the ground below was no easy feat to recover from.
Ravage tightened his grip, jaws clamped firmly around his thin neck and claws pinning him against the Decepticon's chest. For all that his teeth were jagged and his claws were long, not a single scratch had been placed on Silverline yet.
"Give him back!" Jazz wailed, echoing off every canyon.
Silverline craned his neck to see the mech in alt form speeding behind them, he was kicking off a huge dust cloud and was clearly struggling with small wheels grinding into the sand, but with the engine of an alien robot, he was still keeping up.
No one had fired yet, Frenzy hadn't thought they would either, not when Silverline was the easiest shot to make. Craning his helm a little farther back brought Ironhide into view. He had left the edge of the base and was now hastily scaling the mountainside, cannons spinning madly as he watched them through a viewfinder.
Finally, Laserbeak had stabilized and they were beginning to ascend, lifting off from the hot earth, above bushes and reedy trees, above boulders, they rose steadily, got even faster.
"Tuck your wings," A croak managed against buffeting winds and Silverline quickly pinning his wings to his back the way Ironhide had showed him to cut through currents.
They picked up speed at near frightening levels, Jazz was now much farther behind and gaining scratches at an alarming speed as he plowed single-mindedly through the terrain.
-Silverline!- Prime's transmission suddenly flooded his head, clumsy and rough.
-Silverline don't go back to him, you don't want this! Ignore your programming and think! Megatron isn't what you want him to be!-
-I want to go home!- Silverline snapped back, claws digging into his toy.
-He promised he'd take care of me when no one else did! He- I- I miss him!- A keen erupted from his mouth, the first in a long time. Sadness and confusion and anger boiled inside him, a warble announced the pain piercing his spark. -It hurts.-
Ravage growled low in his chest, Silverline could feel it rumble against the twist of his torso splayed across the cat like a deer mid-kill. It was soothing, closer to Megatron's rumble than he'd heard in a while.
Prime didn't seem to have a comeback to that, it wasn't him that spoke next.
-Of course it hurts, little one.- Ratchet cooed, fear thinning the usual honey of his words. He sounded strung tight, plucked at the seams and Silverline whimpered at the lancing guilt.
-You're distressed, no sparkling should be separated from one they share a parental bond with. You're so young to feel so alone.-
They had now reached the mountaintops and a flock of military planes in formation burst from the clouds to roar aggressively around them.
-I wasn't alone, I had you.- Silverline needed Ratchet to know he hadn't failed, he hadn't been rejected. Silverline needed Lord Megatron, and Ratchet had nothing to do with it. -I'll miss you, Ratchet.-
A burst of static filled his receiver, it could've been an equivalent to a sob, though it was so fragmented Silverline couldn't be sure who it was from.
-Don't go, Silverline. Stay? Stay with me, please!- A pathetic warble was rung from him, Ratchet sounded so sad, so hurt. Silverline never wanted to hurt him.
Silverline couldn't speak, it felt like he was choking on his sorrow, and Ratchet didn't say anything more. After a beat, Prime returned.
He sounded ancient, tired, a forgotten ruin crumbling back into the ground block by block.
-I know you're going into the city, this won't be successful. I hope you can forgive me when we meet again.-
Silverline tried to respond, but his comm unit wasn't picking the Autobots up anymore, they'd finally gone out of range. He wasn't prepared for how much that thought hurt and scared him, they were all gone, for the very first time since he'd escaped the lab.
"Don't try contacting them again, we're going to disappear." Laserbeak croaked again, hugging on to Ravage to make them even more streamline. They rose into the clouds, where it was so cold enough to nip at Silverline, biting at his wires with teeth sharper than Ravage's.
"C-cold," He whispered to Ravage, instinctively seeking out warm and wrapping himself around the cat as best he could.
Ravage carefully shifted his grip on Silverline's throat to press him flush against him, hot ventilations wafting across his gossamer plating. With a grumble, he was suddenly putting off an exponential amount of heat, radiating warmth like a space heater.
Silverline sighed in relief and snuggled as best he could in the uncomfortable position he was in. It wasn't a perfect solution, not after he'd been thoroughly spoiled by Ratchet and the hangar's ring of heaters. His peds were still stinging where they hung limp in Ravage's hold and the plating on his back burned as the main buffer between him and the frigid winds.
Still, Harry grit his denta and didn't complain, he could handle a little pain if it meant the mission was a success.
"Whenever you're fragging ready, Ravage," Laserbeak said thinly and the cat hissed back.
Ravage shifted with a grunt, and a machine gun slide out of socket and clicked into place at his hip. It glinted stormy grey against the dull black of his armor and swiftly aimed to their military escort.
"Wha-" Silverline was cut off by the deafening ratatatat of machine gunfire blasting from what felt like right next to his auditory receptors. It sent his helm ringing as it peppered planes in blinding flashes and instantaneous holes as one went plummeting out of the sky in plumes of violent smoke and another swerved sharply and wobbled to a lower altitude on clipped wings.
Silverline had never heard something so loud in his life, it sent his energon pump on the fritz as electric panic jolted through him.
"Stop!" He yelped when there was a blessed pause, "Please, don't!"
Ravage didn't resume his assault and the remaining planes soared far higher and thinned out, putting a wary distance between them. They hadn't returned fire, but Silverline wasn't sure if humans would care for Prime's alliance if they were being shot out of the sky.
Laserbeak huffed, "What was the point of even bringing you if you aren't going to thin the herd?"
The city skyline was quickly coming into sight, a metallic, glittering lump of skyscrapers and asphalt that danced like a mirage in the heat.
It grew rapidly, engulfing the horizon until Silverline could spot cars and tiny pinprick pedestrians all going in one direction. The military had probably called an evacuation, rushing civilians out of the way before facing them head on.
Sure enough, Ravage hissed again when they spotted a barrier of humvees and huge guns lining the edge of the city, all trained on the approaching trio.
What was more frightening still, was directly behind the barricade. Rows and rows of huge inflatable landing pads lined the streets and sidewalks. Silverline could count at least fifty and marveled at how prepared the Autobots and military had been for a rescue attempt.
"Oh frag," Laserbeak said, "They've got an idea."
That's when their flight became incredibly erratic as Laserbeak zig-zagged and swooped as randomly as possible, twisting and swerving in jerky lurches that were incredibly effective in tugging Silverline free of Ravage all on their own.
Ravage tightened his hold, squeezing onto Silverline's throat as hard as he dared, his limbs weren't meant to hold weight as they were and he did his best to wrap his paws around Silverline's shoulders without piercing him on his claws.
Silverline whimpered quietly, with every dizzying drop the bottom fell out from his stomach and his head swam. He'd slip a tiny centimeter closer to the ground, his own weight digging Ravage's fangs into the thinnest of his plating directly under his chin. It hurt, he felt sick and shaky and pinched all over.
It still wasn't enough for the snipers to miss their shot.
Crack!
Laserbeak trilled in panic as a bullet clipped the very tips of razor feathers, bending and blasting and nearly ruining what little control he still had of their flight. He flapped hard, nearly smacking Ravage and swooped again.
Crack! Crack!
Silverline shrieked as bullets whizzed by, screaming like they were tearing open the space between atoms and this time striking the club of Ravage's tail.
Ravage roared in fury, temper snapping with an audible ratatatat as his machine gun began firing wildly at the soldiers down below.
Silverline deactivated his optics, rubbery claws nearly dropping toy Lord Megatron as he tried not to look at the sniper who'd been too late to duck back into his humvee. It had only been a short spray of red, if he'd made a noise it hadn't survived the cacophony of gunshots blazing in the sky.
Another sniper took their shot and caught Laserbeak's wing again, this time nearly connecting with the turbine socketed just before his feathers.
Too close, way too close.
"Hold on tight," Laserbeak warned Ravage and then folded his wings and dove over the barricade as quickly as he could.
With his wings tucked, there was nothing for the snipers to shoot for that wouldn't risk hitting Silverline in the process, but they would be dropping dangerously close to the enemy in order to get across. It was a gamble both cassetticons were praying would succeed.
Silverline screeched, grabbing on to Ravage as tightly as he could with his one free arm. The angle he was in wouldn't support a strong hold, but he was scrabbling for purchase as the asphalt and guns raced up toward him.
It wasn't safe to fire, personnel without rifles had already lowered their sights and were frantically reporting to their superiors about the situation, safely tucked behind their barriers to avoid the machine gunfire.
The snipers shouldn't have fired either, but one did.
Crack!
Ravage howled, he'd barely spotted the muzzle in time to shift his paw further down Silverline's back, but now the bullet had jammed itself into the delicate components that made up the appendage, sending shrapnel across Silverline's back and losing his grip even further as his claws spasmed.
They were clear of the barrier and the still evacuating people were only blocks away, drunk and distracted on Fourth of July celebrations it was difficult to herd a whole city out of the way. Exactly as Lord Megatron predicted.
"Flare your wings, sparkling!" Laserbeak demanded, and spread his own to catch them once more.
It wasn't a complete freefall this time, with forward momentum cushioning the catch of weight on his straining feathers. Still, it was rougher than he expected.
Silverline tried to comply, spreading his delicate wings out to lessen the burden. His back seared, icy cold and flecked with scratches from Ravage's paw. An instinctive part of him wanted to keep his wings flat against himself, protected from damage, but he pushed past it.
They flared their wings in unison and Laserbeak put his all into his turbines to rise as quickly as possible. It worked, they hardly skimmed the roofs of cars before they rightened themselves and began steadily climbing over storefronts and lamp posts.
Now they just had to speed up and get into the crowd of people, it would be effortless to disappear among human chaos and confused officers shepherding them away from bars and lawn parties.
Blocks flew by like leaves, the roar of humvees racing after them were muted and only growing softer. Choppers and jets were still overhead, but they couldn't weave with half the agility of a Decepticon and none of them had the precision of sniper fire.
The mission was nearly over, both cassetticons were exhausted and incredulous they'd even made it this far. They were at the finishing stretch, phase two astoundingly close to completion.
Which is when Silverline finally couldn't hold back a wail.
He'd tried, he really had. He pinched his mouth plates closed and shut down as many urgent pop up alerts as he could, but eventually it hadn't been up to him anymore.
Silverline had done his best to master his new robot voice, but there was a lot he still hadn't managed and one of those things was keeping his own vocal processor from alerting as many people as possible to his status updates. It was a sparkling survival mechanism, Ratchet had explained.
So when the pain was only growing and not dimming, as Ravage's embrace slowly failed and Silverline's frame sank with turbulence, the pressure on his delicate throat increased, like a vice slowly closing in around him.
Silverline could barely ventilate, he'd already received a warning for the poor cooling procedures failing his energon pump and secondary processors. It hurt, it scared him, he wanted to get away and that fearful urge kept getting bigger.
Finally it had grown too great, and Silverline screamed for assistance on tones no human could replicate.
Lord Megatron- he wanted Lord Megatron right then, why was this over? He'd left the safety of the Autobots for Lord Megatron and now he had neither and he so, so alone. People were fighting and getting hurt, he was hurt and he couldn't ventilate someone help him please-
He struggled blindly, latching onto his one final anchor, the toy, and pushing away everything else. His struts swung wildly in midair and Laserbeak rushed to lower them back down toward the city.
"Sparkling," Laserbeak wheezed, "Hush, sparkling, hush. It's almost over!" Ravage was quick to ramp up a purr, following the bird's lead.
But Ravage's paws had finally failed him and with a final heave, Silverline sank himself onto the cat's fangs.
Silverline's distress signal reached new heights, nearly inaudible to human ears and absolutely deafening on a Cybertronians. The sparkling had lost complete control, his terror and pain transcribed in excruciating detail by an automatic hand and sucker-punched into any Cybertronian with a ten mile radius.
Silverline sobbed for relief, completely abandoning his hold on Ravage to scrabble at the Deception's jaws. He was desperate, he wasn't sure how many teeth had pierced his plating, but he knew it was shallow with plenty of room to sink even deeper into him. A trickle of heat seeped down his neck and onto his chest, smearing between him and Ravage as he struggled in Ravage's grip.
Ravage was frozen, utterly terrified. Conflicting programs flooded his system, threatening to overheat him. Sparkling distress protocols flared to life right alongside innate, core responses programmed directly into his mainframe demanding he finish his kill. The spindly creature writhed in his claws, warm succulent Energon seeped onto his tongue, a sparkling needed assistance right that second.
"Drop him," Laserbeak commanded, giving Ravage a merciless shake, "Drop him right now- Slag, Ravage!"
Ravage could only do what his fellow cassetticon said, blindly following the orders to keep his own processors from making a decision. He unlocked his jaws and allowed the sparkling to drop.
Silverline plummeted, sinking like a stone with his wings pulled in as tight as he could get them, curling in on himself as he fell past apartment windows and hurtled toward the street corner below.
The pavement yawned up at him, threatening to swallow the rest of the world, cold and empty where he'd surely smash to pieces mere blocks from a rush of police officers closing off that section of the city.
Silverline deactivated his optics.
Then- a rush, tires squealing, the telltale sound of a Cybertronian folding a thousand different plates to contort themselves into an entirely different shape.
Then the wind no longer blew in his face and he was snatched out of the air by a giant servo. It melted beneath him in the next second and he sank like a rubber duck on a wave, eventually descending onto plush leather seats and thin carpeting.
"Caught you!"
Silverline activated his optics, staring up at a flat grey ceiling. His auditory receptors rang, maybe from the gunfire, maybe from his own screaming, he wasn't sure.
"Sparkling, I need a status report. Why are you distressed?"
He picked himself off the floor on trembling limbs, clutching onto the seats for support. He felt weak and cold, and he still hurt a lot. The new, deep voice coming from all around him sounded echoey and a little too far away.
"I-is that energon? Where are you injured?" The voice ramped up in volume, but Silverline was busy steadying himself on his knees, upper half resting against the seats, energon dribbling little dark stains into the flooring like a broken tap. He wanted to curl up and sleep until he was anywhere else, it felt like he was back in Bumblebee's cab all those weeks ago.
"Sparkling! I need you to answer me! What happened?"
Something was poking against his ped, Silverline slowly dragged his helm down and took in the silver toy plane, a little scorched in areas, but perfectly fine elsewise.
It rose to his chest before Silverline realized he'd picked it up, wrapping his shaking servos around the figurine.
"L-lord Megatron," He whispered.
"What? Affirmative, we're going to Lord Megatron- now I need you to tell me- oh." It was only as they were rolling to a stop that Silverline realized he had been moving.
"Frag it."
The driver's seat window rolled down and Silverline heard an old man's voice crack from outside the car.
"What are you doing? We aren't near finished evacuating, we need to hold the perimeter."
The voice from before spoke again, this time deliberately quieter, and hyper focused to the driver's seat, "My precinct chief's worried about some ranchers not getting the message. I'm gonna roll through the outskirt areas making sure everyone's gone."
The old man made a noise of disgust, "Your chief's an idiot, a helicopter can do that just as easily."
"Yeah well, we don't have a helicopter."
"Whatever," The old man's voice faded as he moved away, "Just do that and hurry back."
"Yessir." And then they were moving again.
"Ugh, human filth." The voice had returned to normal, coming from every corner of the car.
"Lord Megatron," Silverline repeated, "We're going now?"
"Affirmative! Now please- report. Where are your injuries?" Whatever confidence the mech had gained fooling the human, it had slipped away just as quickly and now there was a quake of stress in his words.
Whatever daze Silverline had stumbled into was easing, he shuttered his optics and carefully considered the other's question.
"My back," He began certainly, twisting to brush his digits over the plating under his wings. Tiny scratches caught at his sensors, fractures in his near non existent armor.
"My neck too," His servo came up to cup the space right under his chin, where Ravage's teeth had slid through him like he still had flesh.
When he pulled his servo away, it came back streaked in energon, "I'm bleeding there," He ventilated shakily.
"What? Primus, I'm not a medic. Frag, frag, I'm not a medic." The nameless Decepticon said, whole frame shuddering with panic.
"Frag frag frag!"
The knowledge that he was almost there and the remaining fog obscuring him from himself kept Silverline from following the Decepticon's lead. He curled his wet servo into a fist and sank back against the seat, toy in his lap.
"It's not deep, I don't think."
"And where were Laserbeak and Ravage during all this?" Was the mech's next question.
"It was right before you caught me, they were shooting at us and Ravage lost his grip."
He shivered, carefully not thinking about what had happened crossing into the city.
"W-where are they now?"
"If they're smart, smuggling themselves out of the city. My job was just to pick you up. If they fall behind, they stay behind."
Silverline twitched as his comm unit starting picking an ongoing transmission.
-line? Silverline can you hear me? Where are you? We got your distress signal I need you to tell me where you are so I can treat you. Silverine? It's Ratchet, tell whoever you're with that I'm a medic. Are you hurt? Are you in pain? I need you to tell me where you are.- Ratchet's words were constant and ragged. Silverline was sorely tempted to contact the medic, to curl up in heated servos and let the pain disappear, even if he wouldn't go to Lord Megatron. At least Ratchet wouldn't sound so heartbroken then.
It would be easy to call the escape a bust and return back to the sheltered safety of the hangar, to have his wounds healed and finish his puzzles. A part of him truly did want to go back, he hadn't left out of a dislike of the Autobots.
He'd already said goodbye, though, and Lord Megatron was waiting for him.
He could finally curl up in Lord Megatron's palm and maybe show him how much he's grown since the dam. Listen to the snarl of the Decepticon's voice and rest in contentment, utterly safe. Silverline would give just about anything for a family, that part of Harry stayed strong and untainted.
"We're in Autobot comm range," Silverline mumbled to the Decepticon, abandoning the seat to curl up on the floor around toy Lord Megatron.
"Ah, I had a plan for that." With a roll and pop, the interior cab shifted subtly. The caged window that had probably belonged to a police car had melted into a cozy console, the seats were even plusher and the police radio scanner shuffled into a humble radio console.
"Get rid of the white stripes and you blend right in with the human herds," The Decepticon bragged, and then they sped up. Silverline didn't bother to look up and find out how fast they were going.
-Silverline? Silverline please answer. Are you alright? We heard your distress call, if you're hurt I need you to come out. Silverline, Megatron wouldn't want you to injure yourself for him. If you're hurt, I'll help you.-
Silverline listened to Ratchet, he was trying very hard to stay calm. However, as the transmission went on, more and more blips and crunched nonsense invaded the mech's message.
Were the Autobots searching the city for him? Where they panicking? Guilt would probably be sitting like a rock in his chest if he weren't so tired.
His neck wound still hadn't stopped bleeding, though the trickle was small enough that he wasn't creating too much of a mess. He'd probably bled more as Harry that time he'd scratched his arm on a rake.
His whole body throbbed like one big bruise, every small hurt converging and overlapping until Silverline couldn't tell exactly what had been damaged during their escape. It hadn't been much, he wasn't scared. It hurt, though, and he'd rather nap through the pain.
It would be easier if the cab were warmer. It was a hot day in the desert, but Silverline wasn't under the burning sun and it was unpleasantly cool on the car floor. He felt like a snake without a perch to sunbathe on.
"Could you make it warmer, please?" He asked, letting his optics deactivate drowsily.
The Decepticon made a frustrated noise, "Sorry, little one. They're probably scanning for unusually high temperatures right now and we can't take that risk. Are you alright? Is this below operational levels?"
Silverline rubbed his face into the thin carpeting, trying to get comfortable.
"It's fwhine, I understand." He sounded subdued even to his own auditory processors.
The mech made another noise, angrier this time. However, just as he said, Silverline would have to go without if they had a prayer of escaping detection.
It would be a long drive at human speeds, the whole planetary rotation most likely. His energon clenched for the sparkling's suffering, it sickened him that the very first sparkling he'd seen in millennia was bleeding and borderline unresponsive from the stress of removal.
Hatred roared like a fire within, the Autobots and humans would pay for what they'd done to their own charge in the name of keeping him out of Decepticon servos. He swore it on his very spark, once he got the full report from any surviving cassetticons, he'd start hunting down scum and carving his designation into their faceplates.
For now, though, he had a sparkling to care for.
"I haven't received a report yet, is something damaging your vocal processors?" He asked.
Silverline hummed, limp and bouncing with every bump on the road.
"Just tired, I'm fwhine."
That lisp was ridiculously adorable and the Decepticon choked on the overwhelming desire to cuddle and coo over the little seeker. The concern he felt only strengthened the urge to pull over and soothe the sparkling with songs and promises of safety.
He kept driving.
"Alert me if your status changes."
He received another hum, "Okay. I'm Silverline, by the way."
Silverline? Hadn't Lord Megatron referred to his sparkling by some odd clash of noises- Haeree?
He was struck by the ludicrous idea there might be two absolutely impossible sparklings wandering around and was quick to nip that in the bud before he drove himself out of his central processor.
"You're Lord Megatron's, right?"
An affirmative chirp was his answer, and his gunmetal grey toy was really all the backup he needed.
"Greetings, Silverline. I'm Barricade if Frenzy didn't mention me." Knowing the fragger, he probably shrugged that part of the plan off- it had nothing to do with the little spybot's intrusion.
"He didn't. Hi, Barricade."
It lit some uncharted, shadowy part of himself to hear his designation from the tiny, lispy voice of a child. He was struck by the urge to request Silverline repeat it, but the little sparkling was tired.
He put on mellow, quiet human music and added an extra tint to his windows for shading, "Hi, Silverline. Go ahead and power down, I'll rouse you when we're there."
He didn't hear an answer, but the sparkling slumped, the last of his coiled tension draining away as his ventilations slowly evened out. He could still feel the tap of energon dripping into his plating and wished badly for a way to warn Lord Megatron's base beforehand so they could treat him immediately.
But because of Prime and his sorry scrap heap warriors, the tiny child would have to endure.
Next time he saw that scout, he'd pull the rest of his throat out and not just his vocal processors.
"Ratchet, he's not going to answer," Ironhide said gruffly.
Ratchet would probably be furious with him if he were capable, but the mech was too busy ventilating shakily into the palms of his servos and trying not to fall apart, it was horrible to watch. He just stood there, hunched and transmitting to Silverline over and over.
"He needs me," Was all that escaped him.
Prime shot Ironhide a look and he did feel bad, but it was true. After all that scheming and effort, there was no way Silverline would make the mistake of alerting their scout to his position. Whoever he'd been in contact with had taught him well.
Speaking of their scout, Ironhide sent him a quick transmission.
-Picking anything up?-
They still had cassetticons to find and interrogate even if they couldn't find Silverline, Bumblebee was racing through empty city streets with his comm unit at the ready in case a retrieval request was made.
-Nothing, how about you?-
Ironhide stared down at the sidewalk. They had been searching the streets personally, rapidly scanning through buildings and homes for spikes in thermal energy or signs of break ins. The canvassing hadn't lasted though, they'd all stopped dead upon finding the corner of an innocuous block and couldn't make themselves leave.
The one with a tiny energon stain that practically glowed against the grimy cement.
Was this where Silverline had screamed for help? Had he been shot in the skirmish and cried out for a protector? None of them had the courage to ask aloud.
-We're not doing well. Col. Jacobs is getting camera footage right now but they're probably long gone by now.-
-Primus, this is a disaster.-
Worst-case-scenario as far as Ironhide was concerned. He could handle losing the matrix, he'd be lying if he said the same for losing Silverline to the slimy, aggressive Decepticons, but he'd be functional. Knowing Silverline was hurt without a way to measure how badly? Knowing the Decepticons didn't have a medic on Earth?
It was agonizing.
He stared down at the stain, his bulky plating itched like it was taunting him. All this puffing and posturing and you let a child get hurt in battle it seemed to say. He didn't have a response.
"We have until nightfall to keep looking, that's when the evacuation will be lifted," Prime announced, he hadn't looked so small since the fall of Cybertron.
"We can search in case they're hiding in the city and if they're not," his optics darted to Ratchet, who had gone to picking compulsively at his worst healed scars, "we have until nightfall."
Shame curdled within him. This wasn't a rescue attempt any longer, as soon as the spybots had separated from Silverline and lost their air support on the streets, the battle had been finished. This was for their sakes, so they could stave off a break down.
Jazz and Lennox rolled up, even the human major seemed affected, white and grim.
"We think they headed west, a cop car was supposed to return from checking on rural neighborhoods and never came back. They're probably headed out of state."
Ratchet shuddered, picking harder at himself, "He needs me. He's hurt."
Ironhide nodded thankfully to the human and went up to his unit's medic. He laid a servo on his gauntlet.
"You're doing it again, Ratchet. Silverline would worry."
Ratchet tore himself away but stopped picking, servos clenched as he glared wildly at Ironhide.
"He should be here! What am I doing here without him? I'm useless so what does it matter if I- he's hurt. He's bleeding, he doesn't have a medic. That's what I'm for and I'm not there!" His words were wracked with self-loathing.
Ironhide didn't tell him he was wrong, though maybe he should've. He felt the exact same way. What was he here for, a weapons specialist and fearsome war veteran, if he wasn't there to protect Silverline? When it was most likely the very troops he'd allied with that had hurt the sparkling?
He'd be a hypocrite to tell Ratchet anything that just came out of his mouth was false when he felt just as pathetic, when Silverline was bleeding and didn't have a bodyguard there to keep him safe.
Jazz felt differently, though. He transformed back into his bipedal form and stomped over to the two mechs.
"Ya'll are both here 'cuz Optimus Prime wanted you in his personal unit," He snapped, unimpressed.
He didn't look distraught like the rest of them, instead, he looked pissed off.
"Ratchet, you're here 'cuz you're the best war medic a mech could ask for. When Silverline returns you'll need to use those skills to make sure he's okay and to finally give him some fragging armor."
Ratchet flinched, his optics skimming around the square of cement now as he tried to meet Jazz's gaze, "He's hurt now, though."
"Megatron is a crazy, evil fragger that needs to be put down a thousand cycles ago, but he ain't a complete glitch. He was willing to give us a safe zone just to make sure Silverline didn't get caught in the crossfire."
"And look how well that turned out," Ironhide couldn't hold back his ugly sneer and Jazz kicked him hard.
"My point is that if he really can't be patched up wherever they holed up, Megatron'll definitely kidnap you. So suck it up and don't damage yourself, you're gonna be needed."
He turned on Ironhide next, practically a mirror image of himself mere days ago when they had both been sulking over frightening Silverline. Jazz was good at handling problems with their sparkling, maybe it helped that he'd fought mostly off-world and away from the sparkling mass deaths.
"And you!"
"I didn't even say anything," Ironhide protested.
Jazz hissed at him, "Don't gotta say it for it to be clear as day on your ugly mug, now shut up and listen."
"You're Prime's weapon specialist- the weapons specialist. One of the most feared Autobots still around. You weren't here to protect Silverline but who the frack is gonna help us get him back if you're not here kicking afts with us? Who's gonna protect Silverline for good this time once we get him back if we don't got you with us? Don't you dare make yourself less of an asset over this."
"And you!" Jazz didn't miss a beat, swinging right around to Prime.
Their leader tilted his head curiously, he didn't speak though. He wasn't as good at hiding his sorrow as he seemed to think.
"You better get yourself out of that funk or so help me, Primus, I'll depose you as fraggin' Autobot leader. Silverline needs you, right now he ain't got anyone but Megatron which is worse than nothing. We gonna get him back, we got better bots, more resources, and we ain't riddled with viruses. If they could do it, we gonna do it better. Get me?"
Prime shuttered his optics, stunned at the bold declaration. He hadn't had someone threaten his authority for half of Earth's lifetime.
Still, his optics softened. He bowed his head, expression morose, "What an inspirational leader you'd be, Jazz."
"Maybe, but I'd kill my rivals so don't fracking test me, Prime. Get a move on."
Lennox snorted, blowing his position of near invisibility to snicker into the collar of his uniform.
"Sorry, sorry- that was just- I didn't expect that."
"If you have nothing else to do, would you mind asking Jacobs about that security footage? It would be our best bet to gauge why Silverline had given a distress signal," Prime said, a little colder than before, but politely nonetheless. He was definitely the calmest of the Autobot unit, but he wasn't near optimal condition after what had happened to Silverline.
Lennox wiped the smile off his face and gave a nod, "Sure, yeah. I'm on it." He kindly walked away without complaint, straight to the jewelry store across the street where Jacobs was collecting camera footage.
A major with his background would understand the prickliness of a leader with missing charges, and a man with his compassion couldn't hold anything they did against them while Ratchet looked fit to throw himself into the sea. Ironhide felt comfortable letting him retreat to his own thoughts.
Instead, he looked back to Jazz.
"You don't feel like you failed, then?" Ironhide asked impulsively, steeling his spine when Jazz sent him a razor glare. It was only when faced with the full brunt of Jazz's fury that Ironhide could spot the torment blazing within.
"'Course I fragging do, I'm second-in-command. Silverline was taken right the frack in front of me while I had my thumbs up my aft, I was a disgrace. He was right there- shit!" He grit his denta, "But Silverline still needs me, he ain't finished all his books yet and he don't know what kinda bots he just trapped himself with. So I'm gonna tear the wings off'a Laserbeak and then I'm gonna rescue our sparkling and bring him back home. That's how I'll make it up."
"Our lowest point," Prime murmured and Jazz's helm shot up, optics blazing.
"You're damn well right," He growled, "Take a good look, we ain't never getting this low again."
Ironhide looked down at the glittery blue stain on the sidewalk, tiny but a mark of failure that fell heavier on him than nearly any before it.
His lowest point. This was it, Ironhide would never let this happen again.
Even if they got Silverline back and a hundred orns from now, he still returned to Megatron- this specifically wasn't going to happen again. Silverline was never going to bleed on a street corner or scream for protection that would never come ever again, not while Ironhide still functioned.
He looked over at Ratchet, still shattered and barely holding on, but he saw something similar in his optics.
They both nodded. This wasn't happening again, they'd do better next time.
"Let's go see if Epps has collected the air force's recordings yet," he suggested, and tugged Ratchet away from the stain.
"We can help more by figuring out what happened in the first place."
"Little one, it's time to wake,"
Silverline grumbled, nosing into the flat scratchy material that had become his bed.
"Silverline, we're here."
A loud whirr rang out and Silverline moved suddenly, shifting as the scratchy stuff fell away and he was being held in what was probably a servo, smooth and articulated. And cold.
He grumbled again and activated his optics blearily, peering up at four red optics placed in an angular black-smudged face.
"We're here?" He echoed, pulling his heavy body into an upright slouch, wings held tight to his stiff back.
No trickle accompanied his movements, so he cautiously took it to mean his bleeding had stopped some time during his sleep. He grimaced at the crusted blue stains on his servos and down chest plate, hopefully he'd get something to wash himself with soon.
"The Decepticon base," Barricade explained slowly.
Silverline sucked in a breath, energon pump ramping up as he looked up from himself to find a crumbling mineshaft in the middle of a slightly different desert sitting before him.
He wasn't sure how far away they were from the Autobots, though it had to have been far considering the sun was near completely sunken beneath the flat horizon. The terrain seemed similar, but America had vast territories that seemed to go on forever.
The only marker to be found was a crooked, rusted sign stabbed into the ground.
DANGER
UNSAFE MINE
STAY OUT
"Lord Megatron's in there?" Silverline couldn't see anything inside, it was just one long shadow that gradually got blacker the deeper it went until it was void of anything else.
Barricade stepped inside, barely clearing the support beams. Silverline sat in the palm of his servo, clutching onto a digit for balance as they walked into the dark mine.
Then, something happened. Maybe a switch was flicked that he didn't see or an automatic process went off upon Barricade's entry. Whatever it was, runway lights flickered to life in the dark, lining the gravel-ridden floor and leading to a door that looked fit for a bank safe. Sparkling and completely untouched by age or dirt, it didn't look like it could even exist in such a downtrodden place.
Silverline stared in awe as the door unlatched itself in an elaborate show of clicks and groans and slowly drifted open for Silverline to look inside.
"Lord Megatron is in there."
Behind the door was a well-lit, sterile hallway, angular in shape and taller than any human would bother building. It dropped in a slope downward, further underground with no signs of stopping.
Silverline leaned forward, lamplike optics wide. He thought he could spot the hint of a figure at the end of the hallway, gunmetal armor blending in well with the patchy steel walling the hideout.
Silverline's spark stopped.
-Lord Megatron?-
-Haeree. Welcome home.-
Notes:
Ratchet: Time to kill myself :)
Ironhide: That's probably wrong but who am I to argue. Me next!
Prime: If I don't move or speak, maybe the others won't know how badly I want to join in right now.
Jazz: How did any of you survive this long?
Jazz: Learn to hate yourself and move on, just like the rest of us.
As for the incredibly dangerous cassetticon rescue- Starscream was supposed to help take out the barricade, but he objected to the murder of a trinemate or whatever. Loser.
So they got shot at, Ravage and Laserbeak did their very best, and Harry still activated his car alarm.
Chapter 12: Chapter 12
Summary:
The two main characters of this fic meet a second time.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
-Haeree. Welcome home.-
With those sparse words, a door unlocked somewhere and the whole world came shining through. Vast, endless possibilities, futures dotting the horizon like stars. Cramped doubts and dark fears that had been closing in on his heart this entire time were now but shadows cast behind him.
Silverline had been dreaming of this exact moment for so long, he could scarcely believe it was finally happening.
Everything aligning in perfect unity, everything suddenly so right with the universe. The chapter brimming with secretive wishes, lies, and uncertainty had closed, and Silverline couldn’t wait to discover what was now before him.
It was dazzling to behold.
Silverline clambered down Barricade in seconds, oblivious to the panicked cursing as the Decepticon struggled to catch him before he could further injure himself. How could he hear anything past the thunderous pulse of his energon pump and rabbiting ventilations?
Silverline lost his grip on polished black plating somewhere about Barricade’s lower struts, but the tumble down wasn’t too far and he fanned his wings out to further ease the fall on a rough glide.
Silverline slid into a heap on the sandy, sloped flooring and was up in a shot. If he’d hurt himself at all he couldn’t feel it. All he could see was the space between himself and his guardian, all he could feel was the cable attached solidly to his spark and reeling him to his Lord.
He sprinted for the shadows further down the hall, but the effort was unnecessary.
In the next moment Silverline was lifted from the floor on grey talons, swifter than Ratchet ever dared and higher than Ironhide ever could. Up he went, right to the ceiling. The servo only came to a halt when crimson optics were level with his own.
“Lord Megatron!” Silverline cried, a desperate sort of joy he’d never felt before pulsing through him, far too large for his body to contain.
Home, home, home was the thrum of his spark, the song in his auditory sensors. The itching, aching, hollowed space within him welled up with brass joy, and only when he was whole could he appreciate just how much weight he’d shed in seconds.
He felt invincible in that servo, powerful under Lord Megatron’s regard.
“Little one,” Lord Megatron rumbled, his words vibrating straight through Silverline, burying themselves in his starving soul.
“You were missed.” Unadorned, simple words. But so much just a breath away from bursting behind them.
He didn’t have room in him for sadness, but Silverline just might cry anyway.
“I missed you too,” He choked out, “So, so much. I-I waited. Just like you said.”
Finally, finally , Lord Megatron bestowed contact on him, a cool clawed thumb tracing up and down his helm, memorizing the shape.
“I expected nothing less from mine,” He said simply, proudly , and Silverline couldn’t resist the urge to cuddle any longer.
Thoroughly spoiled by Ratchet, he could barely dredge up the slightest hint of apprehension for his intentions. He latched onto Lord Megatron’s thumb, stiff and unwieldy though it remained, and plastered himself against it, coos erupting from his chest like a flock of pigeons.
The thumb did not resume its administrations, though. None of the other digits curled from their flat platform, he wasn’t brought closer to his guardian.
How strange had he become that this lack of greedy contact struck him as wrong ? Aggravating and concerning all at once, why was he being withheld his reunion?
Silverline lifted his helm to question his lord- but froze.
Just moments ago he’d been staring up at a face brimming with gentled contentment and intense desire, powerful and fierce and all he could ever want. But in the space of seconds it had been ripped away.
A dangerous snarl had torn its way through, fangs fully bared and gleaming under harsh lighting. There was true murder in his optics, fiery violence crackling for release.
He could’ve been staring down his sworn enemy with an expression like that, but instead he was staring at his own thumb.
“ Barricade ,” He hissed, the churn of gears pulling his simple response down to base noises, almost unintelligible past the growl spitting to life in his throat.
Silverline pulled back further to track his gaze, curiously examining the offending digit.
Understanding bloomed, the answer clear as day.
“I didn’t do it!” Barricade shrieked. His booming voice was high with fright and a little distant in the enclosed space of the hallway. He sounded as though he hadn’t moved an inch from the lip of the base, and Silverline doubted he’d come any closer with his lord shaking with rage.
“I swear I didn’t! Something was botched during delivery, I don’t know! I couldn’t communicate during transport so-“
Megatron lifted his optics from his thumb and that was enough to snatch Barricade’s voice from the very air.
“I want the mech with the most experience treating wounds, any necessary materials, and the designations of who did this now .”
Megatron had already swung around and started stomping deeper into the base before Barricade had the chance to stutter out an affirmative.
Silverline held onto the thumb again for stability as they raced through the hallways in unfaltering spirals, only going deeper underground until he was sure they rivaled the dam in unseen depth.
Hallways widened and branched off into luxuriously spaced rooms, patchy scrap welded walls dwindled to nothing and in their place was gleaming steel, shiny and new from ceiling to floor. Huge crates and clumsy tables and chairs dotted the landscape, each looking as though it had been constructed with a different method from the last. Eclectic and varying in sizes to the point that every Decepticon in the base must’ve pitched in at least once for a seat that suited their frame.
The lighting grew more complex as well, brightening considerably until shadows stopped crowding corners, an assortment of lamps and bulbs peppered each space they crossed in atmospheres distinct from one another.
It was in one of the brighter rooms, unflinchingly white and sterile, that Megatron slowed to a halt. Industrial shelving and a strange skeleton shower stall sat to one side and in the other was a raised slab of steel large enough to park two cars nose to nose.
Lord Megatron set Silverline on the frigid slab so slowly he had time to arrange his legs as he wanted to before they separated. There was hardly a tap as his silver peds made contact with the slab, and with a whisper of steel against steel Lord Megatron’s servo receded.
Immediately the air around him plummeted several degrees, lonely and empty where his guardian should’ve been.
Lord Megatron stared at him mutely for a moment, frustration tangible, before he turned away. He jerked a lever and began roughly scrubbing at his servos under the shower spray.
Silverline curled in on himself with a shiver, patiently waiting for his lord to finish scraping the electric blue stains off and down the drain. He knew he was a mess, the twinging sting of the puncture wound wouldn’t let him forget now that he wasn’t so distracted.
In his haste to reach Lord Megatron and press himself close, he’d reopened the wound. Scraping the wire anew during his spill to the floor and unintentionally wiping it across his guardian before Lord Megatron had been given a chance to properly look him over.
New, bright energon had been smeared across his face while being pet, he could feel the weak warmth of it congealing there. He swiped it away with his arms but only managed to paint his servos the same neon blue in the process.
With a sigh, he sat down on the wide expanse of the berth, allowing the cold surface to be dirtied as well, and pressed a servo against his neck wound.
The bleeding was already slowing again, the puncture wound wasn’t deep. However, he could feel the circumference of it under his palm. Almost half the width of the wire had been breached and if the healing rate matched the last time he’d had a wire cut, Ratchet would need to solder it shut.
Except-
A pain far fiercer than the wire struck through Silverline then, he grit his denta. Ratchet, he’d left Ratchet behind. He had known he would and had given his goodbye, but still. Ratchet had begged for him to stay and now he may never see the medic again.
It had only been a few hours and he couldn’t regret the decision, but he missed his friend bitterly. There wouldn’t be a Ratchet to patch him up now.
A rumble cut through his grief like butter, Silverline looked up to find Lord Megatron staring at him with bright crimson optics, tracing over him again and again.
“Be still, little one,” He said, “You will be treated shortly, I am here.”
With a bundle of strange tools under one gauntlet and a soft looking towel in the other, Lord Megatron crossed the room and once again turned on the rudimentary shower.
Now that he was really looking, Silverline didn’t think it was water coming out of the spout, at least not entirely. It was a spray that circled the drain normally enough, but tinted lime green with some sort of solution he’d never seen before.
“Did you make all of this?” Silverline asked, the Autobots definitely didn’t have such strange amenities.
Megatron ran the towel under the liquid, pressing lightly enough to wring it of excess moisture without tearing it under the spray.
“Decepticons can accomplish a great deal when given the proper motivation,” he said, “Far more than Autobots simpering to humans for scraps. You’ll find the entire base more accommodating, especially the south most wing.”
He crossed the white tile floor, full-sized towel roughly folded and masquerading as a modest washcloth in Lord Megatron’s expansive grasp.
He didn’t appear concerned with the lime liquid dripping onto the floor or running rivulets down his armor. It smelled a bit like wood polish, the distinct scent of disinfectant nipped the air after it.
“What’s in the south wing?” Silverline watched as Lord Megatron finally approached the slab he was sitting on, towel extending with the clear purpose of washing him off.
Silverline wasn’t looking forward to the stinging cold of both the slab and being wet down for a bath, but he locked his joints and spread his wings compliantly. It had been ages since his last bath, and the blue blood smeared across half his plating was gross.
His guardian didn’t respond, still looking him over and over, helm, optics, neck, chest plating, gauntlets, in a drawn out pattern. Tracking the energon, Silverline realized.
Silverline didn’t have much experience reading Lord Megatron’s less humanoid facial features, but he believed the expression he was looking into now could be considered grave, maybe even mournful.
“Be still, little one,” He said, leaning down with optics that smouldered the way volcanoes did trapped beneath the sea.
The washcloth made contact with his pauldrons first, startlingly warm and soft against his thin plating. It didn’t hurt, in fact it felt great against the crisp cold of the room, but Lord Megatron only appeared more upset as he tensed obediently.
“Your bravery does you credit,” He murmured, “Be still, I will rectify this trespass as swiftly as possible. You’re functional and operating near-optimally.”
Silverline supposed this was his lord’s version of Ratchet’s you’re okay . Reassurance meant for a sparkling, but it was spoken like a spell, like his words needed to be true. He knew Ratchet required certain responses after that or he’d only grow more upset.
He leaned into the wash cloth gently stroking over his plating, from pauldrons to peds and shifting in increments further in. The lime solution was clearly designed for whatever material Cybertronians were made from. He wished Aunt Petunia’s cleaning supplies sliced through grime and stains as effortlessly as this did. He was even glossier as he dried, as shiny as a new car.
He cooed again, drawing Lord Megatron’s attention from his plating with great patience. Once they’d connected gazes, however reluctant his lord looked to be distracted from his work, Silverline beamed.
“I’m okay.”
Lord Megatron didn’t soften the way Ratchet did, soaking up his reassurance with the ache of a withered flower. Instead he sharpened. Optics narrowed, mouth tight, a fresh wave of rage cresting just under the surface. Silverline wondered if he’d made a mistake finding his Autobot friend in his Decepticon guardian.
But Lord Megaron loomed even closer in the next moment, probably nearly kneeling on the floor at that point, and brushed a digit down his face plates at a pondering pace. It was completely incongruous with his expression, but Silverline latched on to the affection.
“You will be,” He swore, and continued wiping him down.
It was quiet for a while, Silverline helpfully spread himself where he needed to be and received near constant clumsy praise for his fortitude and behavior. He squirmed when they reached his wings, but Lord Megatron ran the cloth under the shower again and the renewed heat pulled the bolts directly from his joints. He was a liquid mass after that, completely at the mercy of the wonderful warm washcloth tracing the edge of his wingtips just right.
It was a violent thunderclap that yanked Silverline back to himself, startling him badly enough to flinch away from the washcloth as he searched the room for the source of the noise.
He was interrupted by Lord Megatron plucking at his left ped, a dozen chainsaws ripping through his vocal synthesizer. Silverline looked down at the yellow band pressed tight against his plating, pinned in place by his guardian.
It wasn’t alarming to look at anymore, it had been a part of him for so long he’d stopped registering it. The Autobots hadn’t brought it up either so he’d been content to ignore it up until now.
It was jarring to realize how little he’d thought of it, a fresh flush of ice down his back to see just how much he’d disregarded during the past weeks with so many other things fighting for purchase in his priorities.
Sickly yellow under the light as it was and striped with thick black digits like his very own barcode, but it hadn’t caught his eye since leaving the dam.
“You’d promised to remove it,” Silverline remembered, it had been a tracking device, hadn’t it? Except the scientists found him without it in the military camp.
“Why does it remain?” Lord Megatron barked. In a swift pinch it was torn from his ankle and crushed into yellow confetti before his optics.
“Prime should’ve removed it the moment you were in his custody.”
Silverline curiously pawed at his ankle, gleaming like the rest of him with the lime solution. It felt oddly ticklish after being covered for so long, a little newer than the rest of him. Otherwise it looked and functioned just like his other ankle and he soon grew bored of the shiny finish. Silverline looked up to his fuming guardian.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t bring it up. The scientists already knew where I was and there was always so much going on...I didn’t want to cause more trouble.” And secretly, a touch more selfishly, Silverline hadn’t wanted to erase a promise from Lord Megatron in case it somehow weakened his other promise to get him back.
“They would’ve tapped into the signal within astroseconds, especially with that scout.” Lord Megatron sneered, “Had Soundwave not been monitoring Barricade’s retreat they would’ve intercepted before you reached me.”
Silverline stilled, “I don’t- what?”
“It’s a tracking device, useless to the scum that first captured you if they already knew where you were, but the Autobots could also track the signal once they were familiar with the device. What a desperate move, were they praying I wouldn’t have Soundwave jamming Barricade’s frequencies? Or that I’d allow you out of the base without properly examining you?
Panicked clawed up the back of Silverline’s throat, Optimus had sounded so certain he’d be recaptured….
“I didn’t show them where this base is, did I?” He demanded.
Lord Megatron dropped the washcloth on the berth and traced another digit down his cheek, running past his helm and curving over his back. It was more inquisitive than soothing, like he’d thought so many times of doing it he could no longer deny the impulse.
“I’ll need to contact Soundwave at a later date,” He said, “But it matters not. Per our agreement, this base will not be attacked so long as you reside in it. And they are severely lacking in spy bots for infiltration.”
Silverline held onto the servo, not letting him withdraw, “I’ll stay here, then. Right?”
He needed to hear it. He needed to hear that this wasn’t a momentary stop in his life, that Lord Megatron wouldn’t be swept away just as easily as the first time. He couldn’t bear to exist in the same space as his protector without trusting it to remain.
Rage seeped from Lord Megatron’s optics, something a little quieter remained there as he cupped his claws around Silverline, enfolding his entire frame like his own personal cove.
“You belong to me, little Haeree. Wherever I reside you shall have a place with me.”
He gently lifted a talon under Silverline’s chin and tilted his head back until Silverline was staring up at the fluorescents.
His digits were razor sharp and immense, the slightly twitch and he could very well sever Silverline’s intake piping and central wiring. A slight twist and he could just simply crush him like an insect. These were only passing thoughts to Silverline, the thinnest trickle of apprehension amidst an ocean of adoration.
Trust, pillowy and sure like an old beloved quilt settled over him and he melted into the handling. His trust was rewarded, just as he knew it would be. Lord Megatron didn’t twitch, didn’t move a single gear as he studied the puncture at Silverline’s throat.
“The bleeding has stopped and the wound is clean, it is time to solder the wire.”
A general ring of Lord Megatron’s comm unit pulsed through the base and a Decepticon walked into the room like he’d been practicing his entrance the entire time they’d been there.
He was shorter than Lord Megatron, as most Cybertronians were it seemed, with upturned, angled wings and long struts that carried him across the room with grace. He was shaped in a way he hadn’t seen yet in either Autobots or Decepticons up until this point, streamlined where the others were solidly stout, slim in a way Ironhide would have no trouble denting with a single heavy gauntlet.
Silverline might call him delicate, but he did have armor, pointed and thick where it needed to be, just without the weight behind it.
Navy blue paint was dull and scraped in places, particularly his gauntlets but there was a twinkle in his scarlet optics Silverline found oddly similar to Bumblebee. Good-natured, maybe, or just prone to teasing.
“You?” Lord Megatron said sharply.
“While it is Soundwave who has the most experience patching tiny bots, he didn’t think you’d appreciate waiting for his descent, my lord.” His voice was lower than Silverline would’ve thought, gravelly, and tinged with a murky dislike.
Lord Megatron glowered, “No matter, you’ve had plenty of time to practice recently.”
Silverline watched as the other Decepticon flinched, servos balling into tight fists. Lord Megatron hadn’t said anything mean, but the other Decepticon looked enraged.
And then, the anger wiped away too swiftly, tucked under with expert ease and no small amount of malice. The line of his shoulders remained tight and balled fists hid in pleasantly linked arms behind his wings.
The Decepticon deliberately placed his back to Lord Megatron and smiled down at Silverline.
“Greetings little sparkling, my designation is Thundercracker.”
Silverline waved hesitantly, unsure, “Mine is Silverline, hullo.”
Lord Megatron made a noise but Thundercracker spoke first, “ Silverline , huh? I like it. I’m here because you were damaged during retrieval, may I examine you?”
Thundercracker didn’t reach out to tilt Silverline’s helm himself and there was a genuine warmth in the way he regarded Silverline. He found his previous misgivings faltering as he pulled his helm back and pointed in the general proximity of the wire.
Thundercracker whistled a short distressed tune, “Ahh. That had to hurt, just a few centimeters over and your voice synthesizer would’ve been punctured too. Primus.” His wings shook, hitching higher behind him like a great bird. However, his volume remained even.
“Hold still, I’ve got my tools.”
Silverline obeyed, hearing the familiar hum of medical tools heating up, Ratchet’s had sounded the same.
“It did,” He admitted, “Ravage was holding me there and when those humans started shooting at us he slipped and….it hurt.”
“Ravage, you say?” Lord Megatron might’ve been aiming for cool but he overshot and landed somewhere past glacial.
Thundercracker hummed, scarlet optics narrowed thoughtfully, “Yeah, this looks like Ravage’s work. You’ll need to be careful with your tubing here, I can see where his other denta pinched and scratched and those wires are vulnerable to popping leaks.”
“You won’t be placed in another situation that requires you be careful,” Lord Megatron said, stepping back up to the berth and crowding his subordinate in.
Silverline took great pains to be as still as possible, starkly aware of the tiny torch being lifted to his wires. Staring stiffly up at the ceiling, he reached out a servo slowly to silently grasp for his guardian.
There was a pause, the faintest intake of air high above him, it badly tempted him into craning to peek at Lord Megatron. He held still, claws outstretched and demanding.
He’d hardly gotten any cuddles so far. He understood why, he even appreciated how gently he was already being cared for, bathed and praised and treated for his wounds, but that didn’t stop the chasm of needling hunger cracking through his chest at how far he was from his guardian.
Like a Christmas buffet at the Dursleys when all he had was a spare biscuit, the promise of warmth and security lingering just out of reach strained on him.
A shadow passed over his helm and suddenly there was pressure against his back and deadly claws curling into his line of sight. So light, so careful not to jostle him.
Silverline smiled beneath his mask and latched on, wrapping a thumb to his spark and settling against Lord Megatron’s thick gauntlet.
“Alright, that should do it,” Thundercracker announced.
Silverline allowed his head to drop and watched as the navy Decepticon carefully deactivated his tools without looking away from Silverline’s throat.
“Is there any discomfort? Any pain- don’t touch it-”
Lord Megatron caught his claw before he could brush over the coin of heat pressed against his wiring where the puncture had been. It was pulled firmly to his side while Thundercracker fretted over him.
“It’s still fresh, sweetspark. You need to let it settle and repair itself before putting any strain on the wire, okay?”
Silverline nodded, Ratchet had lectured in a similar manner over the slice to his arm all those weeks ago.
Thundercracker smiled again, the scratches across his paint glinting like silver stripes across his faceplates. “You were amazing, couldn’t have asked for a better patient. With bravery like that you’re going to be terrifying in the skies.”
Silverline ducked behind Lord Megatron’s thumb, overheated and no doubt cherry-red if he were still human.
What was he supposed to say back? Thanking him seemed so arrogant, Silverline wasn’t brave, especially after he demanded his guardian cuddle him like an oversized teddy bear the entire time. But he couldn’t correct a strange adult either, so he settled for squirming in silence.
Thundercracker smiled wider, a coo in his words now. “Yeah, such a trooper. I know I wasn’t nearly so put together as a first frame seeklet and I was spoiled rotten by my carrier.”
“You’re a seeker?” Silverline shoved Lord Megatron’s thumb out of the way, suddenly desperate to get a better look at the bot.
What had Ironhide said a seeker was? Not just a Cybertronian with wings- specialized? Lord Megatron wasn’t one even though he could fly, so it couldn’t just be flight that was a qualifier.
Thundercracker let his navy and white-tipped wings flutter behind him- identically to Silverline when he was feeling happy or proud. The cool, harsh lighting played well off his scuffed wings, putting an emphasis on where the polish remained untarnished.
“Of course I am, I’m part of the lead Decepticon trine. Practically an icon,” He boasted.
Silverline’s spark lept, “There are more here?” Would they all look like Thundercracker? Slim and long-legged with wings bracketed above their helms like ornaments?
“My trine leader, Starscream. Skywarp is on his way too, though it might be a while considering his aptitude for navigation.”
Starscream, Skywarp, and Thundercracker, all other seekers. Silverline found himself imagining Thundercracker in a rainbow of colors, each more vivid than the last. They all had sky-related designations as well, star, sky, and thunder . He hoped it wasn’t a tradition.
He liked his new name, still treasured the moment Prime gave it to him. However, it sent something plummeting in his abdomen to imagine he was wrong for a seeker on top of everything else. Silverline hearkened to the sky indirectly, recalling a proverb admiring gloomy clouds before the sun. That must be enough, Prime wouldn’t be mean enough to do less.
Thundercracker grinned down at him, that playful gleam in his optics brightened considerably as he bent forward, bringing his face closer to Silverline’s.
“You must’ve been starved for seekers in that drab Autobot base, hm? They’re almost entirely grounders, it’s so boring. Want to come with me and meet Starscream?” There was something sickly sweet in his words, but Silverline couldn’t spot a trap in his generous offer.
Before he could accept, however, the cage of digits encroaching on his line of sight spasmed.
Lord Megatron tightened his grip on Silverline, curling gently around his flimsy body with claws so thick they banded his chest and still pushed his chin up in order to rest around his neck and shoulders. His wings were pinned to his spine and his struts were carefully sorted to dangle below the knee joint as he was gingerly lifted off the table.
“Mind your place,” Lord Megatron growled. “Haeree is to remain by my side and we will be headed to the south wing. Your presence is no longer necessary.”
Thundercracker’s facial plates pinched but he didn’t hesitate to gracefully bow, wings still high and proud on his back. Before he was fully out the door, the seeker paused and gave Silverline a parting smile.
“I hope to speak with you again soon, little one.”
“Goodbye,” Silverline said, unable to wave but more than happy to make good on that invitation once he and Lord Megatron were situated together.
Silverline was shuffled in Lord Megatron’s grasp, a bit clumsy but never rough. He allowed himself to be handled, content with his lord’s attention fixed firmly on him and those cool claws rasping protectively around his frame.
It was awkward, being held like an action figure, then cupped like a trapped spider, but eventually he figured out to bring Silverline high on his chest plates and press him against a thick sheet of gunmetal, lukewarm with the heat of the spark buried deep beneath.
Silverline trilled, curling comfortably on the shelf of a single servo and pressing his helm to Lord Megatron’s chest. This close, he could hear as well as feel his lord’s every deep ventilation.
They didn’t make any headway toward the door so Silverline pulled back a little to chirp curiously at his guardian.
Lord Megatron was watching him, dark red optics gleaming in the shadows of his helm.
“Are you well, little one?” He asked, almost gently, “Do you require any other treatments?”
Was this anxiety? Silverline learned not to treat it like Ratchet’s worries, so he made a production of looking himself over rather than seek out more affection.
In his inspection, he carefully avoided touching his still tender throat and indulged in a quick brush against his newly naked ankle before going over every colorless grey panel and nestled wire. Everything was in order, the only wound he had was treated and the rest would be cured with a long nap, so he peered back up at the Decepticon.
“I’m a little cold, could you warm up?” Well, perhaps he couldn’t deny his impulse to respond with affection completely.
Lord Megatron’s look of deep confusion popped Silverline’s daring like a balloon. The drawn out silence after that was even worse and he hid his burning face in the armor, waiting for his silly wish to stop echoing so loudly overhead.
“Me? The south wing is heated, would that suffice?”
Something fragile and hungry in Silverline’s chest withered at the notion of no more warm, warm cuddles. He dug his claws into Lord Megatron’s servo and couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact as he pushed his luck,
“Please? I- Ratchet heated himself up and held me all the time and it-”
His torturous confession was interrupted by a fierce blast of fans kicking to life within Lord Megatron’s chest as the plating beneath Silverlined abruptly soared in temperature.
He squirmed, thin armor stinging, “Too hot!” he gasped.
Lord Megatron yanked Silverline off his chest plate fast enough to make his limbs rattle, he was held at arm’s length. The distance yawned out with the Decepticon’s massive reach until Silverline could no longer hear the fans humming and the dizzying shifts had him swaying, stunned.
Lord Megatron studied him, “Sparklings are incapable of effective thermoregulation and their optimum temperature exists within a small window. Nevertheless, you should not be this sensitive.”
Silverline felt that like a punch, rocketing right back to reality with a wheeze of his vents. Suddenly, the bite of heat creeping over him no longer hurt quite so much.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to whine, I’m sorry.” He’d gladly take the burn over Lord Megatron scowling down at him from a distance any day.
The scowl deepened, “I am not scolding you. Recall that I have said I will tell you when you have behaved insufficiently and now is not that time. You lack proper armor even for a first frame, this sensitivity will be corrected as soon as possible.” He paused until Silverline ventured a nod of acknowledgement and then continued.
“Currently I am devoting power to more carefully adjusting my internal temperature, I am...unused to such manipulations and am experiencing temperature fluctuations too extreme for close contact. Be still, my adjustments are almost complete.”
It was probably true, what Lord Megatron said. All the Autobots had followed a similar practice, never waiting for Silverline to trespass on unknown grounds to gleefully punish him. No cupboards for using the wrong floor polish, no cuffs to the head for missing a surprise guest during dinner preparations. Rules were explained to him, even repeated, and he hadn’t been more than gently rebuked since becoming a robot.
Still, being held like a mongrel as far away from Lord Megatron as possible, Silverline’s wavering nerves poisoned his thoughts no matter the logic behind them. His chest felt tight, his servos were balled into fists, and anxiety roiled under his guardian’s clear displeasure.
Two or three minutes of winding tighter and tighter stretched on into infinity before Lord Megatron huffed and brought Silverline back to his chest plates, but not against them.
“Touch my armor and tell me if the temperature is optimal,” He said.
Silverline obliged before the sentence fully left his guardian, pressing his palms to ridged metal. He lurched the upper part of his body out of Lord Megatron’s claws to press himself back up against the armor with a coo of contentment in the next moment, melting into the blissful embrace of curling heat.
He felt Lord Megatron’s vents hitch and the claws around him quickly shifted closer to accommodate his posture, sealing him from the floor so far below and carefully pinning him in place.
“An affirmative would have sufficed,” He growled.
Silverline laughed, sore and heavy limbs pressed deliciously into the seeping hearth of his guardian, and Lord Megatron didn’t scold him further.
Finally, they were out the door.
Lord Megatron walked them through what could’ve been miles of tunnels, steps smooth and gait even. He paused at the door of almost every room to allow him a peek inside and a brisk summary of its function, like a museum tour if the tour guide stroked his helm with striking familiarity and lectured like he was quizzing on the topic at the same time.
It was far too distracting, even with the amazing heights and scale of all the different rooms and hallways being shown to him. He stayed awake, eager to learn all he could, but an inescapable nap was dawning on the horizon.
Silverline was shown the first room from the main entrance, which was an armory. It was an empty room, stacked only with a few meager cases and stacks of spare ammo, but Lord Megatron was confident with reinforcements would come hidden supply caches.
The second was a security room, it was to be checked over by patrols before doing a lap outside and unmanned otherwise. The room consisted of a stack of monitors playing back footage from cameras dotting along the base’s layout above ground and within the base. They lacked human military support and couldn’t afford to dedicate Decepticons to seismic monitoring like the Autobots, so this room would see the most upgrades in the near future.
Then came the clinic, which they skipped over, a rec room filled with the mismatched furniture, and finally the throne room.
The throne room was the widest and tallest room so far, with the shiniest polish and marble flooring to add a shimmer under bright white lights. It could easily hold two dozen Decepticons of Barricade’s size and echoed like a cathedral.
It was probably the grandest room Silverline had ever been in, constructed seamlessly and adorned the only decorations seen so far. Bold purple and deep black paint lined the walls in symbol-ridden murals Silverline didn’t understand. The lights were diffused with diamonds and silver lined the flooring to an extravagant effect, Lord Megatron and his Decepticons had spent a lot of time adding Earth’s finery in small, meaningful touches to make the whole room fit for royalty.
The only things occupying the room was the throne he might find modest if not for the sheer size of it, rivaling the cube in scale, a control station full of blinking lights and holographic monitors placed to the right of the throne and within easy reach, and a huge black blaster leaned on the left side of the throne, shiny and clean and no doubt heavier than a car.
From there the hallway diverged in several different directions, splitting off on either side of the throne room and behind it as well. Signs were mounted helpfully along with each new hallway, but whatever instructions were written on them was unintelligible to Silverline.
Lord Megatron went to the left wing and gestured down the harshly lit scope of it, they were his soldiers’ barracks and each would be identical to the last, outfitted with a recharge station, a shower stall, and a storage locker. Past the barracks Silverline could see where the hallway sprawled wide, ending in an enlarged space bigger than the throne room. It was a training room for his subordinates, and probably the most clumsily built room yet.
Everything was clearly made to be impermanent or functional above all else, from the jigsaw walls so lopsided the room appeared crumpled, to the debris and scrap metal littering every blackened corner.
Lord Megatrin left the barracks for the right wing directly across, which was lit with the same harsh lighting and seemed narrower than the other. Lord Megatron gestured to the sign and explained these rooms were to serve as mechanical rooms, space meant for the technical powering and upkeep of the base at all times.
Rather than ballooning out into a wide open space as the other wing had, this one ended in a simple door tucking the war room from sight, it sounded similar to that building Prime was always hidden in with Colonel Jacobs back on the military base.
Silverline couldn’t imagine what machines and systems were squirreled away behind those doors, were they as alien and futuristic as the rest of their tech? Would he even be able to tell an American power generator from a Cybertronian one? However they also didn’t go into any room, didn’t even open a door.
Instead, Silverline was warned against going inside the rooms without permission. The petting grew heavier as Lord Megatron recalled losing a younger recruit to a boiler malfunction in what seemed to be a bid to cow him into compliance, despite the stress creeping into his own tale. Silverline swore to follow the rules, but the petting didn’t ease.
Lord Megatron’s cuddles weren’t as unerringly effective as Ratchet’s or as confident as Ironhide’s. Though Silverline would never dare say it outloud, he was most reminded of Optimus Prime in the way his guardian slowly and deliberately applied contact like he was following a textbook’s instructions.
Silverline didn’t mind, in fact if he woke up to find this all to be a dream he’d most definitely be inconsolable. There’s no way he could go back now after all that had happened in the last twelve hours.
He arched into the ruler-straight touches and hummed whenever Lord Megatron found a good spot that had him boneless with bliss. His limbs only grew heavier, weighed down with what felt like a week of events packed into a single day, but it was a good sort of weight, the kind that promised deep and peaceful rest.
Lord Megatron continued, pointing to an almost imperceivable dip in the marble directly behind the throne, a secret tunnel rested beneath, one that led to a natural canyon where the mouth would remain hidden and undisturbed.
He didn’t show Silverline how to open it, simply stepped over the hidden depth and to the last hallway placed on the opposite end of the main hallway, far behind the throne. As they drew upon it, Silverline realized only a few feet lay open to the throne room, a durable hatch blocked off the rest.
“This is the south wing,” Lord Megatron said softly, thumb smoothing peaceful up-and-down motions across his back.
“All rooms here are yours to access and safe to wander. The hatch is locked and reinforced to withhold a full frontal assault long enough for you to escape out the back exit.”
He traced the windowless, thick hide of the hatch, metal matching his own in utility coloring and jagged layers. Once his ponderous digits flattered across the middle of the bulk a loud shriek of bolts snapping out of place filled up the acoustic room, ringing in his auditory receptors.
“I, and a select few of my subordinates, have clearance here, press your servo next to mine and I’ll add your signature to the roster.”
Silverline hesitated.
“Um, I won’t be able to unlock it myself, though. It’s too high up,” He mumbled. Lord Megatron hadn’t needed to stoop even a little to unlock it. The other Decepticons probably had to raise their arms above their heads or near it to reach the same invisible panel. Silverline would have to scale twenty feet of steel to reach it on his own.
Lord Megatron didn’t jolt or startle, didn’t appear thrown at all that Silverline would be incapable of accessing the south wing on his own. He might’ve thought there was a prepared set of stairs or a second, smaller panel at a more reasonable height if it weren’t for the rising rumble in Lord Megatron’s chest.
“Ah,” he hissed, “You are very, very small.”
“I- I’m sorry,” Silverline wasn’t sure what else to say.
Lord Megatron snarled and threw open the hatch with a deafening bang.
“Don’t apologize. You are not at fault.”
It sure sounded like he was at fault, the lawn mower growl lodged in his guardian’s throat rose and fell with a temper Silverline couldn’t see anywhere else.
Silverline remained quiet, uncertain. They stepped inside and the hatch shut behind them, leaving them in an entirely different environment from all the other rooms and halls.
The hallway was spacious, wide enough for two sets of Cybertronian pauldrons to cross at the same time without knocking. The lighting wasn’t reserved only for the ceiling, either. Harsh though the ceiling lights remained, running board lights dotted the floor in an array of softer hues. Were these meant to light his way when he wasn’t being carried high enough for the fluorescents to reach?
The rainbow LEDs lapped sweetly at Lord Megatron’s peds as they made their way further in, reaching the first door.
Silverline flinched away as the door opened automatically, shooting into the hollow of the wall and allowing free entry. Lord Megatron steadied him against his chest plates and his growl deepened into the roughest coo Silverline ever heard.
“Peace, little one,” He said, “The doors here are connected to the power grid and are fully automated. We were careful to make them as sensitive to weight and resistance as possible for your freedom, but be mindful of them nevertheless. Do not rely on them for protection either, they are meant to be easily dismantled in case of malfunction.”
Silverline cuddled closer, pressing himself into the divets of Lord Megatron’s armor as the door loudly shut behind them. The coo rose, sounding like nothing more than a chorus of tigers and yet settling him faster than Ratchet’s singing ever could.
“So they’ll open for me?” He whispered.
“Affirmative, all you must do is approach. Now pay attention, this is my command room.”
Silverline had never seen a command room, but he had seen a home office before and it looked a great deal like that. Steely grey paneling covering the walls and the LED tracks and fluorescents followed them in. A desk bigger than any he’d ever seen before sat in the middle of the space, large enough for Lord Megatron to sit comfortably below the table of it and possibly cannibalized from a storage container given the shape and height. A seat just as impressive was pushed away from the desk like he’d left it in a hurry, cushioned and padded under incredibly durable fabrics, curved in an ergonomic design completely unique from the overall rigid, angular fashion of the Decepticon base, and painted black. Silverline had no idea what it had been made from, it was assembled so specifically to suit Lord Megatron.
They crossed the open floor to reach behind the desk and Lord Megatron stooped to give him a better look at what was partially obscured by wires and CPUs piled on the desktop.
“This is where I shall dictate my will when it is not necessary to do so directly or with great detail. You will find my time in this occupation growing as my reinforcements touch down, at the height of my command it was crucial to maintain my rule.”
So this was where Lord Megatron would be working for most of the day? Silverline frowned, he didn’t like the sound of that. He’d known it was impossible to have his guardian’s attention constantly, it would be unreasonable to demand that he never be left alone. Prime left for most of the day when he went to work, though, and Silverline didn’t want to only see Lord Megatron right before resting for the night.
“Could I visit you?” He asked. That was what the LEDs were for, right?
Lord Megatron barked, fangs flashing in a warped smile. He brought Silverline back up from his stoop to bundle him briskly under his chin with a pleased growl, claws dancing down his wings. Silverline automatically reciprocated, wrapping his servos across his guardian’s neck and nuzzling deeper into the junction between throat and pauldron.
“You are mine, little one, you need never ask to be in my presence,” He rasped, “You do well to remember your place at my side.”
Silverline beamed, elation bursting like summer fireworks in his chest.
“With that in mind, considerations were given on your space in this room”
Lord Megatron brushed across the desk space, moving giant tablets and CPUs around until Silverline could see a previously obscured corner of the table. A platform, curved and raised like an eggshell, had been placed there.
Smooth stained wood made up the frame of it, dark and pleasant against the otherwise military ensemble. Filling the concave of the wooden eggshell was a mountain of plush pillows, small and large, silky and furred, it was an incredibly lavish lining to the already cozy nook. The pile of thick quilts and throws stacked on the lip of the wooden frame assured the warmth and softness of a cloud, outstripping his old cot by miles.
The platform was tall enough to stretch within Lord Megatron’s personal space, were he sitting at the chair, and wide enough that Silverline could arrange himself in a variety of positions while remaining within its confines.
“It’s beautiful,” Silverline whispered, in awe that he was granted such a space, and it was clearly only for him. Lord Megatron really did want him around, really desired to be with him to an undeniable and humbling degree.
Lord Megatron’s chest puffed up, plates flexing proudly beneath Silverline as he ground out a note of satisfaction. The instant reception caught Silverline’s attention, he squinted up into his guardian’s tender expression.
Tentatively, he tried it again, “I love it, thank you for making a place for me. It looks so comfortable.”
Lord Megatron’s fans kicked up a notch and his engines rumbled pleasantly. The heated vibration of it like the rattle of a big cat, pressed against Silverline’s spark. Silverline went liquid, hanging from the tightening grasp with a happy sigh.
His whole world buzzed pleasantly around him and satisfaction lit him up from the inside out, his guardian was here and happy and just as affected by Silverline as Silverline was with him. He couldn’t imagine the moment getting any better.
Lord Megatron definitely heard that thought and wished to disprove it, for he found a spot under the right side of his helm with a wandering clawtip that instantly relaxed him to a dangerous degree, he was pretty sure he skipped a few ventilations somewhere in the rapture.
“There are yet more rooms to explore,” Lord Megatron crooned to the puddle of silver goo in his arms, and they backed out into the hallway to reach the door directly across from the office space. Silverline didn’t bother sitting back up, allowing his helm to loll under the continued kneading just to the right of his chin as his optics lazily traced the generous space sprawling before him.
This was the most unique room by far, easily outstripping the throne room in violations against the general steely aesthetic of the Decepticon base. Bright colors danced and rippled merrily across the walls, bright pinks and yellows and blues and every shade in between splashed their way up to the ceiling and back down again like the inside of a crayon box.
In line with the throne room, many colors made up murals, stacking up on themselves in a rainbow of glyphs and ornate images. The spaces left over were filled with rows of alien lettering, beautifully inscribed in broad strokes that bordered the walls.
And that was just the walls .
The wide expanse of the floor was equally cluttered, every corner of the room dedicated to tall structures and bright stations. One may have been a tower to practice gliding given the padded trampoline below, another could be a sort of jungle gym if the swings and slides were anything to go by. Silverline couldn’t wait to explore the rest, for in only dazed glances he couldn’t begin to guess anything else.
Toys were everywhere, the sight undeniably reminiscent of Dudley’s second bedroom save for the thoughtfulness in where they were placed. Nothing was dropped carelessly where it sat, chests of puzzle boxes and stuffed animals were placed neatly along the walls, basketballs were tucked next to the plastic hoop, stacks of glossy books crowded in on another eggshell nest of pillows, this one hooded by a thick circular veil and fairy lights like a hideaway he’d only dreamed of.
Underneath the heaps of toys and structures, the floor was the same LED-dotted flooring as the rest of the wing, save for the tumbling mats and brightly colored rugs strewn about like little islands of padding and comfort. The ensemble was a gymnasium and toy store’s strange, candy-colored love affair.
“Frenzy reported your living conditions with the Autobots, you will find this far outstrips a ring of heaters and a leather ball,” Lord Megatron promised.
Dizzy, processors cooking and overwhelmed to the point of tears, Silverline bypassed the daydream playroom entirely to realize something he probably should have noticed a while ago.
“This wing is heated.”
Lord Megatron quirked a browplate, “Affirmative. This space is yours to traverse freely and that would not be true if you were unable to leave heat sources.”
Silverline was glad to look away from the hundred different feverish wishes he’d had in his cupboard, soaking in the simple smokey greys of his guardian’s face like a balm to his burning optics.
“It’s really nice, I didn’t even notice.” They must’ve had the heating honed down to the decimal, Silverline felt human for it. The atmosphere wasn’t what he’d imagine of a heater suited specifically to him, it didn’t feel toasty or even lukewarm. It just... was . A tiny temperature readout waiting behind his optics if he bothered to look, and that was all his Cybertronian body bothered to note.
The only place he’d felt similarly was out under the desert sun, where he’d had room to run and jump and play with the Autobots. Even then the temperature waned and waxed, he never forgot that he was at the mercy of the hour.
This entire wing was a summer afternoon frozen in time and he hadn’t hoped for that kind of freedom since the dam.
“You are...displeased with this space.”
Silverline startled, focusing back on Lord Megatron.
“No! Not at all! It’s amazing in here.”
Lord Megatron peered doubtfully at him, “Platitudes are unnecessary, if you require more enrichment you need only request it.”
Silverline couldn’t drum up the imagination required to even guess what else could fill the playroom. The balls and action figures and packs and packs of markers swam in his vision whenever he tried to focus on the room as a whole, swirls of loud colors and painted smiles floated in and out of focus like they were bobbing on a tide. Dizzy, he trained his attention back on his guardian.
“I love it,” He said honestly, green connecting with scarlet, “I’ve never seen anything like this before and I can’t wait to explore it all.”
Unshuttered optics stared back, open and waiting. Silverline pushed past his fatigue to chase after them, scaling the gunmetal armor with surprising ease. A servo no doubt floundered after him, but he was quick and managed to scamper onto a hulking pauldron.
Still watching, still aching with sincerity, Silverline stretched out onto the tips of his clawed peds. With a straining arm, he brushed a servo over Lord Megatron’s inhuman face. So different from any other Cybertronian. Even Prime, the only one to match him in stature, couldn’t look more alien in comparison.
Lord Megatron’s face was as dark as his armor, feline in the angular planes that made up his helm. A tiger’s powerful jaws hinged beneath, heavy with fangs and a cruel face guard. Equally predatory optics were set above, wide and intense. The helm interrupted his gaze almost immediately after them, the first band dropping in a deep v so thickly reinforced it threatened to limit the top of his vision and cut between his optics at its lowest point.
Built above the massive band was the first and only mark of ornate status to mar his brutally efficient design. An undeniable crown of charcoal-smeared grey adorned his head, proud and tall. As close as Silverline was, he could see what shadows and damage once obscured.
Colors, almost completely tarnished silver made up the centerpiece on his forehead and faded blues lined it in prominence with geometric stripes and layering. A millennia ago, how it must have shone. The jewel-like glyph so carefully etched into the centerpiece in ebony and platinum sighed with the last whispers of polish and peace and twinkled like a distant star for it.
“But right now all I want is you,” Silverline finished lamely. It was intimidating, wasn’t it? To be so wholly seen by such a fearsome and infinitely more powerful person. Lord Megatron looked like he was gazing down into the depths of Silverline’s spark with round optics and parted mouth plates.
Silverline had changed in the weeks he spent among Autobots, painstakingly nurtured there was the nerve to look up at this undeniable warlord and so nakedly profess his bullheaded and childish desire to be held that superseded all others. The nerve was there, but it was surely buckling under the stunned silence that echoed like a gunshot between them.
Then, movement.
A ripple of jagged armor and two sets of claws were once more enclosing around him. Gently, slowly so the pauldron he teetered on barely shifted, he was brought up to the place he’d managed to caress with his own tiny servo. Bundled there, he waited for his lord’s reaction.
Razor teeth flashed in the fluorescent light before Lord Megatron’s helm dropped and his face guard swung overhead.
A purr of a growl, not loud but impossibly deep resounded all around Silverline. With far more grace than a human could ever be capable of, Lord Megatron nuzzled his massive head against the top of Silverline’s helm, scraping his jaw delicately across his colorless plating like the largest most dangerous house cat in existence.
“Mine…” He cooed so roughly it was almost indistinguishable from the rumble in his vocal replicator.
Mouth plates brushed across Silverline’s own jaw, so large they took purchase of the entire right side of his head before merging seamlessly into another rasp of metal against metal.
“How could Primus have given away a spark like yours,” Lord Megatron sang in a lullaby without a tune, a series of thunderous ventilations and agonizingly precious affection.
Talons carded around Silverline, like they couldn’t not pet him. They pressed and smoothed and teased until he was limp with bliss, entire frame sagging under its own immense weight and eventually it was only Lord Megatron holding him up. He was cuddling with Silverline’s front and wings and everything in between, the only point of contact unutilized was Silverline’s soldered throat.
They weren’t finished with the tour, Silverline knew so little about where he was and what his days would look like now. He had no idea how many Decepticons lived in the base, what they knew and what they were like. Silverline had no idea what Lord Megatron knew about him from Frenzy’s spying. It wasn’t enough to know he was no longer Harry, what else had escaped him?
But all those anxieties and uncertainties were light years away, mere specks of dust in the warm rays cast across Silverline’s soul. Exhaustion sank into him with syrupy sweetness, a shadow’s wing was draped over his head.
He drifted to sleep so happy it hurt, so serene that it didn’t matter. He was held and loved and those were unshakable truths, and that was all he needed.
“Mine…” His dreams murmured and Silverline sank down deeper.
Ravage watched the humans burst out into the streets, scuttling like panicked insects in the wake of an enraged Autobot. He couldn’t blame them, it was an intimidating display from down on the ground like this.
“Ironhide!” Prime snapped, lunging for his haywire weapons specialist, “Stand down !
Ah, was Prime losing control of his minions? That’s what he gets for recruiting exclusively weak-willed trash compactors instead of real soldiers.
“Which one of you did it?” Ironhide roared, cannons spinning furiously, spitting so much heat Ravage could feel it a block away.
“Which one of you was gutless enough to open fire on a sparkling ?”
Oh. Ravage could understand the outburst then, they were late to the party but he would accept assistance whilst exterminating every squishy creature that attacked them during retrieval. Ravage was pragmatic that way, a feature his creator highly valued.
He stifled a pleased rumble as Prime’s second- Jazz latched onto a cannon and hauled Ironhide away from the cowering human soldiers. Was he really going to get front row tickets to an Autobots brawl? Maybe Laserbeak was the unlucky one for successfully fleeing the scene.
As if Primus heard his thoughts from on high, the Autobot medic stepped into view next. He was staring black death at every human in succession, something truly venomous in bright blue optics. Ravage could recognize barely contained violence from a mile away and he knew at a glance it was only the iron grasp Bumblebee had on his servos that kept him docile.
Ratchet marched ahead with his arms wrenched back, not arrested, not with the doughy looks he garnered from his comrades, but firmly incapacitated.
“Those guilty have already been identified and they will be punished, but it is not your place to mete it out so stand down .” Prime latched onto Ironhide’s shoulder and gave it a rough shake, yanking him away from a crowd of humans stupidly trusting a car to shield them from an Autobot’s wrath.
No, that was what their morals were for.
“Whose is it then?” Ironhide said, “I was Silverline’s protector, this is what I swore to do. Who has greater claim to their lives then I do?”
“That,” A cool, female voice intoned, “Would be me.”
The human woman, the one Frenzy identified as their highest commander on the Autobot base, strode out of the building and right in front of the Autobots.
Ravage had difficulty reading those puny wet faces, but he took a stab at angry seeing those fleshy lines on her face bunch up between her brows.
“My men are my responsibility and I shall handle them as I see fit, you have no authority over them, Ironhide,” She said, and only flinched a little when Ironhide bellowed back wordlessly in response. Stupid little worm, it was by the last insignificant thread of loyalty Ironhide held for his Prime and second that he hadn’t stomped down hard .
“And there certainly won’t be any claiming of lives . I saw the footage as well, was it not those Decepticons who damaged Silverline?”
Ravage dug his claws in, hatred surging through his wiring. She would die as well, just as slowly as those who fired at them for her ugly accusations.
The sweet taste of high-grade energon tickled at the back of his throat, a reminder of his guilt and the hatred only burned brighter for it. He hadn’t meant to, he hadn’t meant to . The sparkling would be fine .
Prime regarded the human- Colonel Jacobs , “We agreed upon many nonnegotiable, all encompassing laws between us and our people. I did not forget and neither did you, that humans were forbidden from attacking Silverline and were not permitted to fire when they did.”
She didn’t back down, “That agreement hinged on Silverline being classified as a non-combatant and your word that he was harmless. Your harmless non-combatant seemed pretty willing to join a terrorist organization just now, Optimus.”
All four Autobots zeroed in on her with utterly frigid expressions and it was only then that the wretched creature noticed the danger she was in.
Jacobs lowered her gaze, “I will punish those who fired without the go ahead, they will be discharged. But I won’t pursue the issue further for firing in the proximity of a traitor.”
“He’s not a traitor, he’s a child,” Prime said, serpentine in his fury, “Your men fired on a child being manipulated by one he trusts above all others.”
Ravage bared his teeth up at the unaware Autobot, what scrap. Lord Megatron was the one manipulating his sparkling? No one would buy that but his own minions, not when the sparkling had to assist in a jailbreak to escape their cruel captivity.
Ratchet spoke for the first time, quite enough that Ravage had to strain his auditory receptors to catch it all. Even Bumblebee released his hold to lean in.
“Why bother humoring these humans? If they refuse to properly punish those who nearly killed Silverline, we can simply do it ourselves and move on to a different human nation.”
That had every human taking steps back, some even fiddled with their guns like they had a prayer in fighting back should Prime consider the suggestion.
“Blame your terrorists! You’re all acting like it was humans who fired on the base, who stole Silverline and killed good soldiers in the process. We all saw that Decepticon maul Silverline in HD back there, are they a harmless non-combatant as well?”
Jacobs was trembling, grey eyes wet and knuckles white. Fear? Anger? Frustration? Soundwave would tell Ravage later once his memories were reviewed.
“Ravage wasn’t maulin’ Silverline,” Jazz shouldered Ironhide out of the way to get in close and dangerous.
“It was batshit, sure, but that spybot has control and has done shit like that before. Silverline should’a been completely unharmed- would’a been taken without a scratch if it weren’t for yer screw ups. Ravage is nasty as they come but there’s no way in hell he damaged Silverline on purpose, it was either that’r drop him twenty feet right onto yo personal firin’ squad.”
Ravage nodded in silent agreement, tail lashing behind him. He’d done that exact maneuver while collecting Rumble countless times without a scratch, Laserbeak hated the weight but Ravage was good at keeping his hold strong and steady over long distances.
It was when morons shot out Laserbeak’s wings that his hold diminished to a series of jolting shakes between knives until something inevitably snagged and sliced. He hadn’t meant it, Soundwave please-
The human Colonel was incensed, “So we should’ve just allowed those creatures to take pot shots at us on their merry way back home because you trust a terrorist organization over the allies who house you at this very moment?”
Affirmative, even a frenzied Cybertronian berserker can be trusted with a sparkling, parental protocols were embedded in all but a handful of truly specialized bots honed to the point of insentience and The Fallen himself. It was only in the death throes of their civilization that such programming wasn’t ensured and regulated. Even then, those unfortunate scrapheaps who dodged starvation by a single orn usually had something crafted in their image.
Humans on the other hand had no such hard wiring and very little interest in distinguishing the sparkling from the average veteran. Ravage would trust a sparkling to an empty room before he left it with a human.
Prime did not explain any of this, instead he gave a great ventilation and drew himself up like a tolerant king. Jacobs relaxed, unspoken forgiveness seemed to dance in the air. The violent rage and demand for blood had somehow, miraculously passed like some terrible dark cloud.
The dead giveaway lay with Prime’s troops, who were practically foaming at the mouth and pressing in to slaughter the lot like pigs. But no human was smart enough to make that connection, least of all ones that fired on sparklings.
“I have no intention of violating our agreements or taking negotiations to a foreign land,” Prime said gravely, “This attack was a loss for us both, but an opportunity to encourage further understanding between our people as well. When my reinforcements arrive, I believe further incorporating them into your military and vice versa will be most beneficial.”
Ooh, was Prime going to try taking over a foreign militia? This, Soundwave would have to hear, some countermeasures will need to be developed. Whatever happened they couldn’t be driven out of the dirty ghetto of a human nation, not when their base was just completed.
Colonel Jacobs pinched her lips and nodded, looking for all the world like she’d just left tense negotiations cautiously advantaged instead of walking away from the most important battle of her life a loser. Prime didn’t trust her, so he’d go over her head and take her troops and her influence with a steady aggressive campaign in brutal charisma.
Ravage had seen it all before, it was one of the reasons the Decepticons destroyed public broadcasting towers in the first leg of the war, Prime was far too good at charming people onto his side when he wanted to. He won a lot of colony planet support that way as well, before Lord Megatron razed them to the ground as punishment.
“I’ll have that entire squad dishonorably discharged, you’ll never see them again. Should we continue our search for the cassetticons or return to base? The evacuation will lift soon,” Jacobs said, already gathering her men from where they clustered in hiding or quivered behind cars and trash cans. How inspiring, too bad none of that prey-noise would stop Ravage from finding them later.
“That won’t be necessary.” Prime announced, and it was then that a crawling sensation took hold of Ravage’s spine and made him want to squirm inside out.
Run, run, run, run, Soundwave!
Wildly he took another headcount, Prime, Jazz, Ironhide, Ratchet- everyone had taken part in that conversation.
Everyone except-
He leapt into the air on powerful haunches, bursting from his place at the mouth of a narrow alleyway like a startled thrush. His eyes were on the horizon, on the gleaming cars and shiny skyscrapers he could duck around until he found another hiding place-
But it was too late, and small nimble servos crushed together to catch him and slam his body into the asphalt. Winded, Ravage yowled in panic and charged up his machine gun. Only, he couldn’t hear the whine of activation, not over the blaster charged and waiting directly over his head.
The servo pressing Ravage further into the crumbling street threatened to bend his struts, something had already cracked and wept fuel over the grimy rubble digging into every brand new scratch and dent. One or two good blasts to the head and Ravage would be as deactivated as they came.
- Stay down or I’ll make you stay down.- The ugly yellow stain commed, a buzz of warning crackled from his ruined throat.
Ravage bared his teeth and hissed hatefully up at the mech, but he wasn’t stupid. He stayed down.
“Nice work Bumblebee, Ironhide,” Prime commended, strutting up to them like the entire scene had been staged from the getgo. It wasn’t though, Ravage was sure. There’s no way they knew he’d been there the whole time, who ever assumes the spybot is directly under their olfactory sensors?
“He still smells like high-grade energon, a lot more than what we found,” Ironhide said, and despite the humming blaster burning hot as a coal directly against his face plating, Ravage felt the planet’s temperature plummet.
His full tank taunted him, Ravage shuttered his optics closed so he didn’t have to see those ghoulish faces twisted in condemnation or his own display proudly blinking out his current stats.
Didn’t mean to, didn’t mean to, didn’t mean to- Soundwave, I promise-
Prime was quiet, the silence stretched on just long enough for Ravage to wonder if they were really going to execute him for what he did out in the open. Not even torture beforehand? Not that he deserved it, because it wasn’t his fault it was all theirs . It was their fault, the humans and the Autobots and Laserbeak but not his fault because he didn’t mean to,
“I see,” Was all Prime ended up saying, and then Ravage was peeking out to find the Autobot warlord turning away from his prisoner and strolling off like it didn’t matter to him in the slightest.
“Ratchet, take him out and then put him in the back of Ironhide’s alt mode.”
A flash of yellow, paler this time and streaked with orange.
“Yes, Prime.”
Wait!
A pop of electricity and burst of pain- and then nothing.
Notes:
Megatron staring down at a napping Harry
Megatron: It’s beautiful…
Megatron: I’ve looked at this for five hours now.
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