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- team, you’ll never figure out what I’m packing!
ratchet’s voice through alchemor’s intercom as they landed sounded so extremely young and mischievous. team prime shared one joyful, meaningful look between each other and gave way to vehicons who helped dock the ship.
- please? let me tell them, they’re gonna be thrilled! - all the way to cybertron, the medic basically begged prime to play along and stay aboard until ratchet would announce him.
optimus and surprises never mixed well. but seeing that glimmer of happiness in such lovely cyan optics was enough to make him do practically anything, and he complied. well, he did promise to do everything to win ratchet back.
all their journey through the stars back home they talked. about their shared past, about their hopeful future. they talked with words, with servos, with smiles, with optics. and it was so pure and sincere every minicon on the ship felt it with their little sparks.
when ratchet came through the doors of the alchemor down the ramp knock out crossed his servos on the chestplate, flashed his emergency lights, and turned the siren on – ratchet’s work. ultra magnus nodded respectfully as a greeting, keeping one servo on smokescreen shoulder to keep the youngster’s itching chassis in place. wheeljack, bulkhead and, surprisingly, arcee whistled loudly enough to startle every other bot around.
- calm down, calm down! - medic chuckled softly in his fist and took a step aside, squinting his optics playfully. - femmes and gentlebots, I promised a surprise for you so—well, come on, do I really have to ask for a drum roll?!
the team laughed almost in sync, all bent down a bit, and clapped on their thighs, filling each other's finials with a loud metallic clanging. only when ratchet was satisfied, he raised his right servo and bent down in half.
- I hereby present to you, the one and only, - he paused and nodded into the ship’s hallway. - optimus prime!
optimus stepped out of his hiding, covering his optics with his digits from embarrassment but with a broad smile across his whole faceplate. the team cheered with all the possible volume for a cybertronian organism, even ultra magnus couldn’t help it.
ratchet observed them all with a pleased expression, but it quickly faded into one of suspicion. they were loud, but… not “shocked” loud, more so “happy and relieved” loud. something wasn’t adding up. they should be jumping with excitement, falling to their knees, and running towards him, not just clapping and laughing.
- wait a second, you knew?? - the medic crossed his servos and frowned, searching for an answer in their faceplates.
smokescreen stepped forward first and pulled him into a tight hug, disarming the older bot’s anger. he tuned his vocalizer to a quieter shushing tone, barely holding back a good laugh.
- bee pinged us a few cycles ago. he knew you were gonna do something extra.
ratchet was about to seriously hurt the youngster, but a tight grip from behind that lifted him off the ground left medic completely flabbergasted.
- bulkhead, put me down! by the allspark, what do you think you’re doing?! - he purposely tossed his helmet back to yell directly into the wrecker’s finial.
- ratch, we all missed you, so stop picking fights, or I’m gonna tell ultra magnus on you, - the big mech put their CMO down slowly, still holding his servos firmly.
as the medic was about to unleash his whole vocabulary upon all of them, optimus saved his team yet again. he simply laughed from the bottom of his fuel tank, with a loud roaring of his engine, just as if he was once more a young bot, free and happy. ratchet locked his optics on prime, completely mesmerised. bulkhead finally let him out of the tight grip.
- fine, you all won this time, but! never spoil my surprises again, got it? - medic rubbed his wrists and finally stepped down from the ramp on the pier, optimus followed him as well.
ultra magnus shook prime’s servo the second he got the chance, but not in a “showing respect to a higher-up” kind of way, more so in a “greeting a long-lost family member” kind of way. wheeljack fist-bumped ratchet’s shoulder plating, flashing his sly smile. arcee crossed her servos on the chestplate, smirking and waiting for two arrivies.
- so great to see you, two gramps, - she sounded a lot softer and more motherly than back in the war days, time did her good.
- you need to stop speaking with jack so often, - ratchet rolled his optics but pulled her and optimus into a tight group hug.
everything was right. just like it was supposed to be. alpha centauri showered cybertron docks in its golden light, licked every helmet in sight, reflected in every shiny surface. optimus took a few heavy steps to the railing and looked, swallowed the sight in front of his optics. cybertron really was magnificent.
- it's your creation.
knock out sneaked up on him, leaning on the thin railing and observing the setting star. he looked... out of place. uneasy. too bright, too crimson for this calm pastel-like scenery. too miserable, too absent for all this fame and glory. a small puff of air escaped his intake and disappeared in the golden hour. compared to prime's enormous frame, he looked tiny. compared to all the hustle and bustle around, to all the happy faceplates, he looked almost invisible.
- I am glad to see that you found your place on the team, - optimus gave the ex-con a small warm smile.
- I wish you would've stayed dead, - knock out did not return the gesture.
iacon was alive. it was a mesmerizing city well before the war, it rightfully regained its title once again after the reconstruction. smokescreen's frame vibrated with excitement and anticipation, eager to show every alley and every building. they walked through the narrow streets, stopping here and there to tell a story of the past or to look at something new. only after they passed a few shops and energon stations did ratchet notice that someone was missing. knock out wasn't there. the CMO checked his commlink but to no avail — the line was silent.
- I'll catch up with you later, kids! - the medic couldn't just let his right hand disappear like that.
he gave optimus one small reassuring nod and took off on his wheels towards the outskirts of the city. new broad roads never threatened with any traffic jams or potholes, and ratchet liked it. during his first stellar cycle on the revived planet, he found himself enjoying the long rides and quick races, it was way safer than back on earth. listening to the hum of his own engine was soothing. in the adequate atmosphere, with all the energon knock out was literally forcing into the medic, his engine stopped coughing and screeching like it used to, and after some long nights of maintenance, it revved and growled like it never did before. ratchet got quite comfortable with himself throughout all this time. a mild drive was a good way to calm his processor down.
knock out didn't know how he got to the well of allspark. he just found himself staring into the glowing abyss that did not even acknowledge his presence. what was he trying to accomplish? what answers was he looking for?
he couldn't tell. he pulled a small mirror he carried back with him from earth — breakdown's gift — and looked at his own reflection. an old, worn-out, empty hull looked back at him.
knock out hated it. he truly hated, with all his spark, how he felt at that moment.
why him? is it because of my past? why did he deserve it more than me? what do I have to do to bring back half of my spark?
jealousy, anger welled up in his frame.
I guess this is just my fate. I’ll always be a miserable, vicious bot. alone. frag, why can’t I just be happy for him? he’s my friend, for crying out loud!
- ‘knew I would find you here.
ratchet’s voice tore through knock out’s inner torment. the CMO stepped closer to him and the edge of the well, looking into the pit with a small smile. déjà vu flashed before the ex-con’s optics.
- you look... happy.
knock out didn’t know what to say. ratchet didn’t really need him to say anything.
- I am. now I am, - every shade of glimmering mecha-flowers reflected on the medic’s peaceful faceplate. - I think “thank you” is in order.
- for what? - the ex-con squinted at him in confusion.
- for keeping me from doing something you would’ve regretted.
knock out chuckled, shaking his helmet in slight surprise.
- come on, you know I don’t regret things.
they stayed like that for some time. the ex-con eventually sat down, pulled his knee joints to the chestplate, hugged himself, and closed his optics. ratchet lowered his own frame and dangled his pedes from the edge of the well.
- I said something awful, - knock out’s voice, strained, quiet, terrified, threw the CMO off guard for a second.
- whatever it is, I’m sure you didn’t mean it, - the medic reached out to him with his EM field to comfort, to reassure, to support. - I say some hurtful stuff from time to time too. it doesn’t make you or me a bad bot.
- I said to optimus that I wished he was dead.
sticky silence stretched thin. it was too heavy to ignore, even the well stopped its constant humming. ratchet couldn’t just forget about it and go on. he examined the small shaking frame right next to him, searching for spite, rage, cruelty, but found none.
- you hate me now, don’t you? - knock out tried to sound indifferent, tried really hard.
- …no, - the CMO took some time to process this question. - no, I’m just… confused. why- why did you do that?
- ‘cause he would take you from me. primus, he already did.
the ex-con chuckled bitterly, all this time hiding his faceplate in his knees. ratchet froze in place in sheer disbelief. he rebooted his audio systems and checked the latest logs just to make sure he registered every glyph correctly. apparently, he did. hopefully, the truth wouldn't break his right hand so much...
- ahem... what do you mean by that? - the medic had to make sure he wasn't going haywire. - knock out, I–
- relax. I meant it totally platonically… - the ex-con cut him off, rolling his optics. - you’re my first friend, just so you know.
and then it just turned out even weirder. what did he mean by that? surely a bot that old must've had a lot of pals and buddies throughout their active! though ratchet wasn't about to test it and actually mention knock out's age out loud.
- hey, I will always be your friend, - the CMO gently placed one of his servos on top of the ex-con's shoulder plating, timid to breach his personal space. - no matter if optimus’s around or not. I devoted my spark to him, yes, but it doesn’t mean I don’t care about you or the rest of the team. actually, what about the rest of the team? didn’t you bond with them?
- puh-lease, - knock out snorted loudly and surprised even himself with the way he so correctly copied older bot's demeanor. - ...I’m still a con in their optics. even though I never had any insignia. what, do I need to carve it on my frame that I’m a good bot now?! okay, smokes is actually decent, he at least talks to me from time to time! but when you left after your stupid "high council trouble", I was all alone. again. what more should I do to prove myself worthy to this bloody universe?…
- well, I mean, you literally joined the winning team in the last moment–
- it was never about the winning! - his crimson optics seemed like they were about to shed blood when he finally looked at the medic. - it was about surviving.
ratchet bit his glossa, completely unprepared for that knock out. the bot he knew was always cheerful and mischievous, sly and teasing, in control of his own emotions to the last worry line on his faceplate. and now a mere shadow, the echo of the war sat beside him, begging for redemption.
- when I was a sparkling, I never had anyone who would even want to take me, - the ex-con couldn't explain why he decided to talk about his sparklinghood at that moment, but it was the only thing on his mind. - I grew up in the system on velocitron. and that was no cybertron with it's fancy academies and great philosophers. no, back there you were either a racer or a beggar. that’s why I came to kaon. that’s why I joined decepticons. that’s why I betrayed them when the time came. because all I’m good at, all I’ve known my whole active is survival.
- why kaon though? you could've come to iacon, the council would've aided–
- the council wouldn't give a frag about me, let's be real, - knock out smirked bitterly, shooting a glance over his shoulder at the tall and shiny building seen from anywhere at the distance of two hundred hiks. - I had just about enough shanix to not starve to death. nowhere in iacon I would've found myself a roof over my helmet and been able to stay fueled. kaon was affordable... but to be fair, I hated it at first. a dirty scrapyard full of neglected sparks – that was my first impression. I yearned for broad polished tracks of my home and had no means to go back. I wanted to end myself first before that city had a chance to swallow and digest me.
- what stopped you?
- breakdown, - a strong gust of wind picked up the name that barely left his intake and scattered it around the field of mecha-flowers. - I'll never forget how we met. this lead-head almost crushed me when he drove in his alt-mode into the energon diner, completely drunk on high-grade, and decided to transform – I think you can already imagine what happened next considering the size of his frame. he hit a pump, and the next thing I see – a refueling gun is stuck in his transformation seams, and he is out cold on the ground. of course, I couldn't just let him lie there, what kind of a doctor would I be? I did what I could, considering my own buzzed relays, and sweet-talked a few wreckers to tow him to the nearest medbay. I came to check on him with the local medics the next cycle, and they told me, much to my surprise, that no one asked about him until me... maybe, I related to him in that moment, maybe, it was my training kicking in, but I didn't want him to be alone and kept him company 'till he was discharged. the next cycle he stood in front of my door with a bouquet of mecha-flowers he ripped from my neighbor's flowerbed. I almost got my finial ripped off for that, but I still went on a date with him.
ratchet couldn't help a quiet, genuine laugh that left his intake. that story had just the right amount of craziness to fit knock out. the ex-con gave him a small smile in return and squinted his optics, getting lost in the glowing well.
- that's a happy story, - the CMO slid a bit closer and nudged his shoulder, trying to analyze his faceplate expression.
- it is.
a solemnity like a veil enveloped knock out's helmet, his whole frame. in the strong early night's wind, he looked like a ghost.
- then why are you so miserable? - the medic said it neither mockingly nor pryingly, but innocently kindly and warmly. - be honest. you can’t keep it all to yourself, not this time.
the ex-con looked at his own servos. a faint tremor ran through his digits, the tingling sensation settled on the tips. his spark thumped inside, his processor screeched and hissed. "run away, don't look back, leave while you can. you're gonna destroy it. you always destroy everything!"
- I envy you, - words left knock out's intake faster than he could escape the hanging question. - you got it all. friends. family. your forever one. glory. love. happiness. you made the right choice, you were always on the right side, you were cared for, you were fought for!
a clanck of metal on metal followed, a single thwack of his fist on his own chestplate.
- I am no one. but I deserve it too. I'm no less of a bot than you are! I went through scrap, I dug through it with my own claws, I was beaten, torn to pieces, punished, despised! why me?! what did I do to be thrown around like a chew toy my whole active?! I just wanted to be happy, to be free! I got nothing, and I thought, whatever, who cares, I can live with it. but just give him back to me. I want him back! I want breakdown to be alive just to love him a little bit longer, I'm clearly not asking for anything impossible here!
knock out finished his speech by digging a claw into ratchet's transformation seams and ex-venting puffs of scorching hot air. he wanted, needed to get his point across. he needed the CMO to get mad. because mad he could take, angry and vile he's used to. but not that squint of optics the medic was giving him. one of sorrow, of understanding and acceptance, of hurt.
the ex-con groaned loudly, his vocalizer cracked with static.
- no, no-no-no-no-no! don't look at me like that! don't you dare look at me with pity.
knock out jumped abruptly, turned around, his frame tensed, all ready to transform and drive far, far away. to the mithric sea, probably. and drown himself in oil for good. his plans were interrupted by a tight grip from behind. ratchet activated his boost systems, dug his pedes into the soft, pliable metal on the edge of the well, and closed his servos around the rebellious scarlet bot, leaving him enough space just to wiggle helplessly.
- I'm sorry, - the low whisper, accompanied by a steady rumble of the engine, flowed into the ex-con's finial. - I am so sorry, my dear friend.
and that wrecked him. the last shred of anger knock out had left vanished, leaving him in a world full of pain. pain that could not be healed. pain that could not be dulled. pain that he had yet to learn how to live with.
it started with a cramp that bent him in half, almost yanking him out of ratchet's grip. then a deafening primal scream followed, making both their finials offline from the intensity of the sound. the CMO could never imagine a cybertronian vocalizer reaching such decibels. when the ex-con's vents stopped completely, unable to keep up with the speed of his overheating, when his limbs went numb, feeling like a deadweight, when nothing else could've soothed his processor, all that was left for him was to cry.
and that cry came straight from his spark, his protoform spoke through tons of welded-together and scarred thousands of times metal. he put predacons to shame with that sound. the pandora's box has been opened, and the lid was incinerated.
it seemed as if the time itself had stopped. no thing material or spiritual, physical or metaphorical, dared to move, to prove their existence. the sticky quiet, dreadful silence spread all around two tiny bots on the edge of the enormous well. two sparks clinging to each other in the last hope for warmth.
- why can't I hate you? why can't I hate optimus?
knock out spoke inside ratchet's helmet, as if telepathically, because his dermas barely moved.
- because you're not a bad bot. you're a very good bot to whom bad things have happened. but listen – I'm not gonna let them anymore, you hear me? we are family, and family protects each other.
the CMO cried silently, stroking the ex-con's shivering frame. ratchet could never imagine the ever-so-cheerful-and-stoic bot breaking down like that, not in his wildest hibernations. his spark ached for his right hand, yearned to show him just how much appreciated and cared for he was. but he knew no words would help. neither would any actions. nothing could cure a wounded soul.
so they stayed like that, before the giant nothing, bare and raw. lubricant streaks on their faceplates dried out eventually, frames lost some tension. knock out stared at the abyss with empty optics. ratchet stared at him, ready to prevent him from jumping inside. that was a horrifying, yet viable, option.
the ex-con broke silence first, picking up and throwing some scrap metal into the well.
- I will never see him again, will I?
the CMO copied his action, in-venting big time to return his voice the usual collectedness.
- you won't.
knock out chuckled bitterly and nodded, appreciating the truth. his voice was quieter than ever.
- he loved me, didn't he?
ratchet's spark broke some more from that question and, he tried to pour as much warmth as possible into his answer.
- he did.
the ex-con smiled softly in return and finally looked at the bot by his side.
- I love him too. I can indulge in this pain if it means we loved each other. because our time together I won't trade for anything this universe can offer.
and with these words, with that acceptance that he allowed himself, with the tiniest relief and understanding that settled in his processor, something happened. as if primus himself heard him and decided it was about time to show some compassion. the well hummed louder, lit up section by section, its dark blue glow got the attention of two bots on the edge. they jerked forward slightly, both looking confused but curious.
with the hum, and the light, and two pairs of utterly attentive optics, the well did what it does best. a small bright spark appeared on the surface, staying just for a moment before their faceplates as if to acknowledge their presence. and in the blink of an optic, it was gone, somewhere far away over the horizon, leaving a barely visible trajectory behind.
two medics exchanged amused glances, pure joy curved the edges of their dermas upwards, and they shared a quiet, fond laugh together.
- do you want to go and find that spark? who knows, maybe it will turn out to be a great leader or a mighty warrior, - ratchet stood up and pulled up a map on his HUD, considering a few possible landing zones.
- or a great singer. we don't get these enough, - knock out followed his example, stretching his joints. - in any case, a good drive would be nice.
the CMO gave the ex-con that one look usually reserved for his just-out-of-medbay patients. somehow he knew that bot would be okay, yet it didn't hurt to ask.
- you're sure?
- I think so, - knock out shrugged, tossing one last glance at the well and turning his back on it. - and I also think we need a better meeting spot. a bar, or something, 'cause — friend to friend — that's getting ridiculous.
ratchet let out a deep velvety laugh, transforming into the alt-mode smoothly. the ex-con did the same, flashing his scarlet plating and yellow discs. and when they rolled out, the cybertronian night sky filled with stars lit their path. they both left some weight at the edge of the well of the allspark. and the well, generous and forgiving, promised to keep their secrets. a lot of friendships grew stronger on the revived cybertron. a lot of scars were only starting to heal.