Rating: M
Chapter 3
Chapter 3: Diagnosis
Jetfire and Jetstorm had snuck over to
the warehouse again.
Ratchet shifted a little on the berth,
trying his best not to disturb the two recharging younglings curled
up along his sides and partially on his chassis. Thankfully, the
jettwins remained unconscious, chirruping slightly in the back of
their vocalizers as they moved in closer to the medic. This was the
second time within an orn that they had left the Steel Haven and had
snuck over to visit Ratchet.... but the ambulance wasn't going to
chew them out this time.
Quietly, he glanced down at the
slumbering flyers, servos gently stroking their wings and helms.
Earlier when they had come in, there had been a great deal of fuss;
between the tears Jetfire and Jetstorm were crying, to the sudden
inexplicable need for his presence, Ratchet had been almost thrown as
to what to do. Eventually though, he had succumbed and managed to get
the younglings to calm down some with a promise that they could stay
the night with him. They had jumped at the offer immediately.
Watching over the recharging twins now, the CMO couldn't help but
feel sympathetic towards them.
Despite their junior Elite Guard
status, Jetfire and Jetstorm were still younglings -war was something
new to them. Indeed, much of Cybertron was lucky these stellar
cycles. The Great War, which still continued to wage as long as
Megatron and his followers were active, had become such a muted thing
after the great Decepticon Leader had been banished to the recesses
of space, leaving their home planet essentially in a state of
relative peace. Many of the younger generation weren't even aware
that Decepticons were still functioning; the most danger seen was
that which might fall on a 'bot these days as accidents at the
energon farm.
Offlining was a rare occasion.
Offlining through malicious intent? The
concept was practically nonexistent.
The jettwins were learning in a harsh
way how much of their old life was naught but silly exhaust fumes
when compared to the reality faced here on Earth. And what a way it
was....
Their Supreme Commander, Ultra Magnus,
the once great and powerful Autobot leader, was now in extensive
care; wavering on the precipice of function and offlining. His wounds
were crippling, severe, and administered with as much hate and
precision that it had been a battle within itself just to keep the
older mech online long enough to transport him to Cybertron's medbay.
When Optimus and Sentinel had finally tapped through to Cybertron
earlier that joor, neither of the 'bots present had been expecting to
hear about Ultra Magnus' fall to the double-agent Shockwave. Indeed,
any animosity that had risen between the two mechs during Sentinel's
under-handed dealings with Lockdown had immediately shied away in the
face of such brutal news. Jetfire and Jetstorm had reacted
accordingly to the situation, this being the first near-murder they
ever had to handle since onlining.
It was why they had come running to
Ratchet in the first place, needing that consolation and proof that
the CMO wouldn't suddenly disappear on them just as their Supreme
Commander almost had. Knowing all this, the medic did not mind
letting them curl up on his berth, tucked in along his sides as they
attempted to recharge for the night. In the morning though, he would
probably send them both off again. With the vacancy in leadership,
Sentinel would have to fill in Ultra Magnus' role until a new Magnus
had been elected..... or unless Ultra Magnus managed to recover
enough to resume the mantel. In either case, that meant that the
jettwins would be going back to Cybertron with their commander; while
Ratchet stayed on Earth, helping Optimus deal with the Decepticon
threat.
The medic almost felt.... sad, thinking
about Jetfire and Jetstorm leaving.
But, he supposed, that was an issue to
dwell on for another day.
Exhaling quietly, the CMO began to
manually shutdown his systems, instating the recharge program. As his
optics began to dim and then offline entirely, Ratchet had one last
fleeting thought before recharge took him: that every 'bot had their
own ways of coping, and that tomorrow, he'd be trudging on through
this tragedy..... as he did with nearly every other situation....
xxXxXxx
It was warm.
Jetfire and Jetstorm shifted closer to
the source of heat, fingers touching over the cool metal beneath
their servos. They could almost hear the pulsing of another spark
against their audio receptors, and onlining their optics, there were
quick to see why.
'Brother....,' Jetstorm sighed
happily across their bond, not feeling up to speaking through his
vocalizer yet. He tilted his helm just slightly, looking up at
Ratchet. 'He us with staying all night.'
'Yes, brother,' the orange flyer
replied, shifting again within in the crook of the medic's arm.
'Ratchet keep promises.... soothe of us.....' Jetfire cut off
his thought right there, nuzzling the CMO's chassis further. He did
not want to think of the reasons which had brought him and his twin
to Ratchet's berthroom, knowing that it would only upset him again;
bringing coolant to his optics. Still, he was glad to know that even
in tragedy, Ratchet was willing enough now to allow the jettwins to
stay with him through the night, comforting them even in recharge.
Jetstorm's own prodding thoughts
through their bond broke his twin out of his musings, bringing
attention back to the blue flyer. 'I....I wanting touch of more
Ratchet,' the other youngling confessed, peering at Jetfire over
the medic's chassis. 'Wanting of to feel Ratchet, sir, inside.
Patient trying to be are I, but.....'
Jetstorm trailed off, but Jetfire
understood what his brother meant. 'He interfacing with us not
since then.... Kiss not even until do such we first.' It made the
younglings happy that they were able to have such moments with the
love of their sparks; all the same, Ratchet was refraining from
physical contact with the jettwins as much as possible, and though
they had come to accept this as part of the CMO's regular
behaviour..... it hurt them some still. They wanted to do stuff that
all the bonded couples did: kiss, hug and interface; things like
that. Especially interfacing.....
Sentinel had been such a pain in the
aft recently, that Jetfire and Jetstorm had not been able to get a
moment's rest to themselves; even less so, because any free time the
flyers managed to procure -whether through normal or sneaky means-
was then spent trying to be with Ratchet. That left the younglings
with virtually no time to interface, an act that they used to share
quite frequently. The need to merge with one another was growing....
but it paled in comparison to the fervent desire to interface with
the medic, more so now that he wasn't outright rejecting them and
seemed to even embrace some of their feelings. That constant wish
left their systems burning with a slow, heavy fire at all times.
Unless the fire in their circuitry grew to an unbearable inferno, the
jettwins would try to hold off on merging with one another, until
Ratchet agreed to joining them.
Still.....
At Jetfire's agreement to his silent
wishes, the blue youngling began to grin mischievously, his fingers
tracing swirling patterns on Ratchet's chassis. His orange brother
could feel the other's deviancy through the bond, and lifted in an
optic ridge at the naughty feelings he sensed from Jetstorm's spark.
'Brother....?'
'Not bad being, if having one taste
just, yes?'
'What taste? Wh- oh.....' Jetfire's
optics widened as he realized what his twin was saying, before a grin
worked its way to his own lip components. Slyly, he glanced down
Ratchet's chassis, to where his hood tapered off before showing his
knee joints. 'Idea bad not,' he purred in response to
Jetstorm, who grinned wider, pressing blushing cheekplates into the
medic's side almost shyly
Together the two of them sat up, taking
care to first remove the CMO's servos from around their shoulders and
rest them on the free space of the berth. They moved as quickly and
quietly as possible; eager to get started, but not wishing to wake
Ratchet up either. If he were online, then he would surely stop them
before they could do what they wanted.
'So handsome.....,' Jetstorm
shivered, trailing his servos down the ambulance's frame lightly. He
ran his fingers down seams and into joints, purring when he heard
Ratchet's fans heave a little at the coy touches. His visor flashed
with amusement, joy and desire as the older 'bot's core temperature
rose a notch when his fingers traced the edges of his pelvic plating,
right over his codpiece.
'Very,' Jetfire agreed. He had
already made his way down most of the berth and now sat crouched at
Ratchet's pedes. His servos joined his brother's, and together they
were able to coax Ratchet's codpiece into retracting, releasing his
spike and port to the atmosphere. As one, the jettwins sighed
breathlessly, practically transfixed by the sight before them. The
dormant charge in their circuitry became a blaze.
Jetstorm shifted so that he sat like
Jetfire on Ratchet's other side, before leaning forward a little more
and tentatively flicking his glossa over the spike's rounded tip. He
was rewarded with a small groan from the medic, who thankfully stayed
in recharge still. Emblazoned now, the blue flyer wrapped his mouth
around the width of the spike, licking a trail all the way down to
the base. Jetfire took that moment to move in as well, resting one
servo against the medic's thigh, while his other servo and mouth
closed about the top half of Ratchet's spike. The ambulance's fans
were on full-crank at this point, transfluid beginning to seep from
the tip of his cable. The orange youngling was granted his first
sample of the older mech's fluids.... and he liked what he tasted.
Jetfire bobbed on the head quickly now,
trying to draw forth more of that transfluid; greatly enjoying the
way it tickled the taste sensory net along the back of his glossa,
before sliding down his tubing and entering his fuel tanks hotly.
Jetstorm below him continued to suckle the base of Ratchet's spike,
every once in a while pulling back to lap at any fluids that trickled
down the medic's plating; trailing his glossa over the other's port
hesitantly -eager to taste, but not wanting to push too far in case
that was something Ratchet did not like having done to him. Neither
were too concerned at this point about the CMO waking up, and indeed
almost didn't notice as the frame beneath them suddenly spiked in
temperature; cooling fans whirring with a distinctive whine as they
were practically pushed past their limit, forcing Ratchet from
recharge.
“W-what the slag?!,” Ratchet
choked, shooting up suddenly. The motion was enough to toss Jetstorm
back and onto the floor, but Jetfire remained where he was
resolutely. In fact, with his brother gone now, the orange youngling
was unobstructed and he quickly swallowed the medic whole, wanting to
get more of that spike. Grunting with the restrained moans, Ratchet
overloaded, already stimulated from the jettwins actions during his
sleep; further amplified upon waking and finding both flyers between
his legs, mouths wrapped around his pressurized spike. He was vaguely
aware of Jetfire gasping in shock, pulling away as his transfluid
shot forth, groaning in loss of the wonderful heat that had
surrounded his spike. Everything else though was forgotten as he fell
back onto the berth, engine roaring as the energy of overload
crackled through him.
Jetfire had not expected that. Taking
heavy intakes, the youngling pulled away from Ratchet's spike just as
a stream of transfluid shot out. Most of it filled his gaping mouth,
but some sprayed out with the force of the medic's release and
splattered along the flyer's face. He gasped in shock, inadvertently
almost choking on the liquid in his mouth. Jetfire managed to catch
himself in time though, and he languidly swallowed Ratchet's
transfluid; rolling it along his glossa and enjoying the taste. Some
of it, he noted, had even got on his fingers. Licking the digits
clean of the sticky fluid, Jetfire slowly slid his free servo down
his body, cupping his groin where lubricant was already seeping past
the seams of his codpiece.
Oh, primus.... he was so charged.....
He felt more than heard the whimper,
and turning his helm, the orange mech finally took notice of his twin
sitting on the floor looking up at him almost piteously. Jetfire then
realized that Jetstorm had been knocked away upon Ratchet's waking
and did not get to partake in the medic's overload. “Oh,
brother....,” the other flyer purred, sliding off the berth and
curling up on the floor with his twin. “Wanting taste, yes?”
“Yes!,” Jetstorm practically
croaked. He grabbed Jetfire's servo and started licking off the
traces of transfluid and hot oil. The orange youngling could only
smile sympathetically, before grabbing the blue mech's chin with his
other servo, drawing them into a heated kiss. Their glossas rolled
along each other, stroking and mapping out familiar denta; sharing a
taste of hot oil that they had known of for stellar cycles before
hand, now mixed in with a strange but entirely pleasant taste
-Ratchet's transfluid.
From behind, they heard a groan;
pulling apart, they looked over their shoulders to see Ratchet
staring down at them, his optics blazing a vibrant blue. Little jolts
travelled down their chassis, their sparks puttering erratically. The
lust in the medic's gaze made them shiver in wanton, Jetfire and
Jetstorm both knowing what would be coming next.
“JETTWINS!!!”
The roar through their comm link,
rattling their frames and making them yip in surprise, was not what
they had been expecting. Rubbing his sore audio receptor tenderly,
Jetstorm was the first to tap into the Steel Haven's communication
network. “Y-yes, Sentinel Prime sir?,” the blue flyer asked
hesitantly.
“Your shift started two breems ago!!
WHERE THE FRAG ARE YOU?!”
“W-we sorry, sir,” Jetfire
attempted to apologize, “N-not meaning to late being of sh-shift-”
“As if I care!,” Sentinel growled
over the comm link. “Get your afts down here, double-time, or it's
the brig for the both of ya!!”
The jettwins waited until their
commander had cut the connection before sighing aloud. With
crest-fallen expressions, they looked back to Ratchet, silently
picking themselves up of the floor. “Making we be us of the
sorries,” the two mumbled together in unison. “And, thanking of
you as well..... w-we last night needing to be with you.”
Embarrassed now, they quickly turned
away; leaving the berthroom and heading back to their ship.
Ratchet could only watch them go, too
stunned to properly react. His codpiece was still retracted, and his
spike thrummed as another charge was slithering through his systems.
Anger, and disbelief, were waging war inside of him. Anger because
yet again, Sentinel proved to have just the worst timing ever;
disbelief, because in all his vorns, the medic never thought he would
wake up to not one but two, beautiful, charming and strong 'bots
between his legs. Swallowing his spike as if they were hungry, little
petrorabbits and his cable was the only source of energon for miles
around. Oh, Primus......
Ratchet groaned again, letting himself
fall back on the berth and staring up at the ceiling.
How long had it been since he had been
able to charge again so quickly after an overload? A long time, the
CMO noted.... But that's what he was feeling right now, and the mech
desperately wished that Sentinel would go frag off so that he could
have the jettwins all to himself again. He would admit now, and only
now, that he wanted them. Wanted them so bad, he had been
astroseconds away from jumping them before Sentinel had commed and
demanded that the younglings return to the ship immediately.
In his processor he couldn't stop
replaying the memory files; focusing in on the luscious pale lip
components that had wrapped about the width of his spike, cheeks
plump and flush as Jetfire had bobbed on his interface equipment. And
then afterwards, when the orange flyer had slipped to the floor to
join his brother..... kissing each other heatedly, glossa twining and
frames pressed tight together; whimpering with desire as they passed
Ratchet's transfluid between their mouth, like it was the best thing
they had ever tasted......
He had to stop thinking about this,
Ratchet decided. It was doing nothing for the charge jolting across
his circuitry, and instead, it was just making it worse. He wasn't
sure he could get himself to calm down without overloading first
before he had to go meet up with Optimus and the others.
Again, damn Sentinel to the Pit for his
terrible timing....
xxXxXxx
Sentinel had decided to stay.
Twirling through the air, performing
dives and hairpins through the thin cloud layer, Jetfire and Jetstorm
found their thoughts to be on topics outside of their mission.
Despite even Optimus' protests and the horrible news of Ultra Magnus'
fall, their commander had decided to remain here on Earth; insistent
on tracking down and capturing Wasp. It certainly didn't make sense
to their processors -after having ascertained that Shockwave was the
real spy, posing as Head of Autobot Intel Longarm Prime, Wasp was
cleared of all charges of treason. The poor deranged 'bot didn't know
this, but had not caused any trouble since disappearing somewhere in
Detroit after their arrival. If he was innocent and not wreaking
havoc.... then what point was there in chasing him down?
'Brother, hoping Ratchet not being
mad of us with for this morning,' Jetstorm sighed as he spiralled
through the sky wildly, still keeping an optic out for any sign of
Wasp.
'He not be thinking are I,' Jetfire
replied over their bond. The orange flyer shot forward suddenly,
rocketing up into the sky before cutting his engines and free-falling
for a bit. '..... me hope.....'
'Hearing how satisfied was he?,'
his twin asked immediately, trying to draw away from the bout of
negativity that began to overcome them. Jetstorm pulled up the memory
file, playing it over their bond so Jetfire could see as well.
'Cooling fans making of screechy noise, and moans that be falling
out of mouth.....'
'Remembering are I, brother,'
Jetfire assured the other mech. He shivered in remembrance, heat
oozing forth from his spark. 'Ratchet, sir, taste being so
lovely....'
There was a spit of static over their
comm links, before Optimus voice was coming through. “I've got a
visual,” the firetruck announced. “It's Wasp alright. He's making
a real mess....”
Surprised, the two jets immediately
adjusted their headings; locating Optimus' signal and flying to his
sector. Wasp had really made an appearance?
“What's his heading?,” Bumblebee's
voice cut in next. Even over the frequency he sounded just a little
too eager to have found the ex-traitor.
“I.... don't even think he knows,”
was Optimus' reply. The jettwins were pulling in close now. Glancing
down they saw the string of crashed automobiles that lay in the wake
of Wasp's passing. For a non-hostile 'bot, the green scout sure could
cause some chaos.
“Wasp is mine!,” Sentinel declared
randomly.
Jetfire and Jetstorm peeked through the
clouds as their commander transformed and leapt for the fleeing Wasp;
over estimating his jump and in turn colliding with Optimus and
Bumblebee, both of whom had transformed to bi-pedal mode the moment
that Sentinel had. The younglings cringed as they heard the screech
of metal amplified over their comm links, puttering on ahead. They
already knew that if they stood and watched, the truck would get
angry at them and just yell for them to chase after Wasp anyways.
Better to be one-step ahead of their commander and spare themselves
the punishment.
All thoughts of Ratchet, Ultra Magnus
and their morning activities were shoved to the back of their
processors as the flyers pressed onwards; keeping a wary optic on the
mad mech. When they could hear the following argument between their
commander and Optimus begin to escalate, they wisely intervened.
“Jetfire to Sentinel Prime,” the orange youngling cut in, “Target
Wasp sighted heading North, North-East.”
“Moving to intercept!,” Jetstorm
chimed in.
“Roger that,” Sentinel replied. “On
my way.”
The jettwins sighed in relief as they
heard their superior transform and begin to follow them.
xxXxXxx
“Excuse me.... they've gone WHERE?!”
“To Dinobot Island,” Optimus
repeated, sounding strained over the comm link. “Listen, Ratchet, I
need you to come down to the pier. Sentinel's being incredibly
headstrong and refuses to answer any of my comms. At this rate, I'll
have no choice but to go out after him and hopefully head him off
before he runs into Blackarachnia and the Dinobots. In the likelihood
that we do have an encounter with her, I'll need you near by to
administer medical attention.”
“...I'm going to offline him,” the
medic growled. “I'm going to disassemble his motherboard, sell his
parts and then use his empty helm to clean my tools in!”
Optimus was quiet. “C'mon, Boss 'bot!
I can't see Sentinel bouncing on the waves anymore,” said
Bumblebee's voice over the comm link.
“Please, just come Ratchet,”
Optimus said. Leaders did not plead. Ignore the almost tired
exhaustion of his tonal modulator..... “We will need someone with
your expertise on hand.”
“I'm coming,” Ratchet grouched. He
threw some medical tools into his subspace, rifling around through
his drawers for any others that he might need. He heard Optimus
mumble an affirmation, before the connection was cut and all was
silent again. Or, well, as silent as it could be with an angry medic
throwing medical equipment back and forth; cursing up a storm about
aft-headed, power-hungry punks.
Ratchet really wasn't pleased. He had
seen the Dinobots before their “amazing transformation” into full
Transformers. The power and destructive force they had exhibited
then was enough to overpower their make-shift maintenance team; he
could only assume that they had grown stronger in the meantime and
now he worried for the jettwins' safety. Not that he didn't think
that Jetfire and Jetstorm couldn't take care of themselves.....
They weren't junior Elite Guards for
nothing.
But, slaggit, everything was confusing
as hell!
Ultra Magnus had fallen, Cybertron was
in chaos, Sentinel was being an idiot chasing innocent mechs, and the
jettwins had woken him up in the most pleasant way possible this
morning.... How was a 'bot supposed to wrap his processor around all
of this?! Primus, the only thing he could even think of really was
coaxing Jetfire and Jetstorm back to his base and his berth, and
properly thanking them for that wonderful overload this morning.
Hearing that Sentinel was dragging his
two younglings -he was hesitant to say lovers or the like, not having
confessed such acceptance himself- around, putting them in dangerous
situations with his careless behaviour just made him so angry!
Ratchet had to stop thinking about all
of this. It was only going to frustrate him the more he thought about
it.
Exhaling heavily, the medic scooped up
the last of his tools, subspacing them all before transforming and
heading for the port just as Optimus had asked.
xxXxXxx
He wasn't going to ask. He wasn't.
If he opened his mouth, Ratchet just
knew that he wouldn't be able to stop the string of curses that would
be unleashed from his vocalizer. Instead, the medic settled for
casting cold glares over his shoulder plating to the complaining
Sentinel as he tended to the dents on Bumblebee's frame. “I-it was
crazy Ratchet,” the scout was saying. He was strangely subdued, the
CMO noticed, and he turned his attention back to the youngling. “I
mean, Wasp just.... he wasn't Wasp anymore. And then he was just like
Blackarachnia, a-and.... and he disappeared..... t-the both of
them..... Just exploded. Boom. Gone. Nothing left where they were
standing.....”
Optimus had given him a run-down report
of what had happened after they had arrived back on the docks,
thankfully saving Ratchet the effort of demanding the information.
From his spot at the port all he had seen was a flash of blinding
light, and the next moment, half the island was gone. The medic
almost had a systems crash from pure terror. It was like deja vu all
over again, and Ratchet was hard-pressed to keep from driving
grill-first into the lake. He had never been so relieved in his life
when he saw the jettwins flying back over the water, struggling to
carry their three companions along the way. Seeing their dents and
scrapes, minor injuries despite the scary explosion that he had
witnessed, Ratchet felt easier pulling his equipment out of subspace
and getting ready to repair Optimus and the others.
“It's alright, kid,” Ratchet said
now, trying to soothe Bumblebee. The youngling looked up at him, blue
optics conflicted. “Things will be okay, you hear me? Alright, I've
fixed you up -you're free to stand now.”
Nodding his head in acknowledgement,
the scout got to his pedes, wandering off to stand with Optimus and
Sentinel. His injuries being less and well enough to repair on his
own, the firetruck had graciously offered to bang out Sentinel's
dents on his own. The two were at the moment bickering quietly, which
was unusual. Or, well, the blue Prime was arguing half-heartedly,
while Optimus stayed unnaturally silent. A sight that was odd for
both leaders. Blackarachnia's “death” must have hit them both
harder than either could have anticipated, the medic supposed. Maybe
now, things would change between them.....
“Ratchet, sir.”
Ratchet turned his attention away from
the other three mechs, slipping his wrenches back into his toolbox,
before subspacing the container. Silently, he looked to the two
flyers now standing at his side; cheekplates quirked with awkward
grins. “H-happy are you being to see of us, sir?,” Jetfire asked.
“Very,” the medic confessed
quietly. He sighed and with a cautious backwards glance, quickly
reached out and stroked the jettwins' helms. The CMO was almost
unable to hide the smile that came as their engines purred at the
gentle caress. “Thought for a moment it was the fire all over
again.”
“We not worry being,” Jetstorm
said, keeping mute as Ratchet withdrew his servos again. Jetfire
though could not suppress his whine.
“Oh, I bet you weren't,” Ratchet
sighed. “Younglings have hardly concern about your own function.
Too wrapped up in the belief that you're indestructible and that
nothing can stop you.”
“So even....,” Jetfire replied,
smiling up at the medic fondly, “We having you still to making of
us the repairs when us be injured.”
Ratchet decided not to reply to that.
“Ratchet,” Optimus called. The
medic and flyers turned to the firetruck, who was standing at
attention now. Sentinel, sullen but silent, stood beside him along
with Bumblebee. “We're heading back to the ship now.”
“Alright,” the ambulance responded,
nodding. He transformed, and the rest followed the older 'bot's
action, before they peeled out to the Steel Haven. This was it,
wasn't it, Ratchet thought. The moment when the jettwins finally
returned to Cybertron.
xxXxXxx
“Thanks for everything, OP,” Jazz
started, holding out a servo for Optimus. With his crew at his back,
and the boarding dock of Steel Haven open just next to him, the
firetruck quietly reached out and clasped the cyberninja's servo
tightly in return. The mood was distinctly somber. “Sorry we gotta
split so soon. I'll always dig this planet.”
“That is making one of you,”
Jetfire tried to crack behind the Guardsmech.
Jetstorm giggled a little beside his
twin. “Sentinel is definitely not digging organic insect 'bots.”
Surprisingly, or not so to Ratchet,
Optimus spoke up on behalf of the other Prime. “C'mon, ease up you
two,” the firetruck said. “He's been through a lot.”
Jazz, Jetfire and Jetstorm especially
shuttered their optics in shock, staring at Optimus as if he had
suddenly announced he was a Decepticon traitor. “...Never thought
I'd hear you sticking up for SP,” Jazz remarked.
Optimus shrugged noncommittally at the
comment. “He's a good 'bot.... even if he doesn't know how to let
go of a grudge.”
“I can handle my own team, thank
you,” came Sentinel's obnoxious voice. Everybody looked up as the
truck practically paraded down the ramp, arrogance back in full
swing. With a passing glance to Optimus, the other Prime was turning
his attention to his subordinates. “Now get your sorry shells
aboard, DOUBLE-TIME!!”
Ratchet could only scowl. Typical,
arrogant, cranked idiots with a power seat..... Jazz turned away
first and was heading up the boarding ramp into Steel Haven, the two
younglings following behind him. For an astrosecond though, both
Jetfire and Jetstorm paused, glancing backwards at Ratchet. The medic
caught their gaze, and was not surprised when he heard a ping inside
his processor; a request to open a private frequency. The CMO
established the link willingly.
'We miss of you,' Jetstorm said
sadly.
'But hoping and knowing we meet of
each other being soon again,' Jetfire added.
'Agreed. I'll see both you later,'
Ratchet replied. 'Take care.'
Smiling, the flyers finally turned away
and hustled up the last few steps into the ship. Noticing how close
Sentinel and Optimus stood to each other, Ratchet turned to his own
companions and crooked his finger; signalling that they should all
follow him. Bulkhead, Prowl and even Bumblebee did so quietly,
granting their superiors the moment's peace that they needed.
Tonight was a time of half-made bridges
and farewells; silent promises of change and meeting once again.
And Ratchet himself was loathe to cheat
anyone of that chance.
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