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Chapter Text

“So…Megatron and Optimus used to be friends?” gaped Jack at Ratchet, hands resting behind his neck, holding it awkwardly.

“Once. Yes.” Answered the medic sourly, tactically leaving out the part where Megatronus and Orion were more than just that. Once.

“That is so messed up.” shivered Miko while hugging herself. The humans seemed surprisingly aware of what that meant for both faction leaders. Ratchet's words seemed to tangle their tongues and make them look elsewhere, just not at each other. It made the doctor smile for himself.

There was just something traitorous in Megatron Ratchet couldn’t help but sneer at every time the mech came to his processor. Just the bare mention of that vile murderer made his engine run miles ahead. He was glad the other members of Optimus’ team had the same ground-licking opinion of the warlord. 

“It once was that way. Yes.” Confirmed the Prime in his low rumble of a voice. He didn’t sound too glad the conversation had drifted here but was not going to oppose Ratchet, nor was he going to lie to his teammates. “But times have changed, and while we once shared a common goal, Megatron has strayed very far from it.” the Prime said in a collected manner, it was just the way his optic ridges frowned ever so slightly and his voice seemed just a little slower than his usual, charismatic self. Optimus was uncomfortable.

Ratchet wasn’t sure if the others could tell, but he could. And it laid heavily on his spark. 

“And that’s it. End of story. Don’t you sparklings have those bothersome computer games to play?” He starts pushing everyone away from that conversation. “Go bother each other elsewhere.” The old medic adds and turns away, sticking his nose between the computer screens on his table to pretend he’s quickly back to work.

Jack looks at Miko, whilst Miko looks at Raph and then back at Jack, opening her mouth to try and pry more information from the two ancient mechs but is met with a glare from Arcee. A glare so stern even the pigtailed teenager seems to get the memo now and turn around. Marching away alongside everyone else.

The doctor, curiously turned his helm slightly, following the silent clangs of pedes and thuds of human feet that were further retreating into the base, just to be met with Optimus’ optics. 

The Prime had stayed behind holding his servos over his hip plates.

“How is the groundbridge malfunction going?” He asks, completely ignoring the conversation before.

Ratchet's processor has to do a quick reset. Oh yeah, the groundbridge malfunction. A few cycles back the groundbridge had malfunctioned and would not start even for Primus himself. At first, Ratchet suspected they had been hacked but since the ground bridge remained dormant, he guessed that wasn’t the case.

Optimus did not seem very pleased about this development as rolling out had been a lot harder now. So of course he’d want to stay behind for that. And nothing else. Ratchet let out a slightly disappointed vent.

“I’m still working on it.” The medic, improvised mechanic and scientist of the team sights in defeat. Truly had it been anyone else asking they would be sporting several dents already. It always surprised Ratchet how everyone thought that if you could fix a mech from scrap then you could also fix a broken computer. He was not a scientist for frag's sake. Yet he could forgive Optimus for his assumption. But only Optimus.

“Hm.” The Prime grunts and turns around, walking away, his pedes echoing heavier than those of his teammates. Ratchet does let his optics linger for longer than he should but eventually turns away. Hopefully next time he will have something to report. Optimus has so much on his plate already, with the whole autobot hero schmuck the senate announced, he doesn’t need one more problem. 

Without its cheery occupants, the room fell so silent you could register the small, repeated beeping of various machines and the way Ratchet’s digits clicked away trying to solve any problem the groundbridge might have. His huffs echoing off the sturdy concrete walls.

“You and Optimus Prime were a thing?” Starscream cackles holding onto Knockout who was already laughing himself halfway under the table.

The warlord sights in disbelief at his commanding officers. The meeting about distributing the newly gained supplies was going rather well before it drifted away and straight into the Kaon’s pits. Megatron was honestly impressed by how little his high-ranking officers needed to get sidetracked sometimes.

“Like- Like actually? Holy damn.” Wheezes Knockout now fully lying under the table.

“Answer: Positive,” says Soundwave before a smiley face appears on his holoscreen faceplates. Heck, even he was enjoying this.

“Oh, this is golden.” Sneers Blackarachnia tapping her claws onto the table before her. She was sitting next to Soundwave and had closed her datapad in favor of entertaining this conversation mid-meeting just like, unfortunately, everyone else.

“Please, it’s not a big deal anymore.” Megatron tries assuring the giggling lot, putting his elbows onto the table to try and get the meeting back on track.

“Oh, it is, what the hell was the Prime thinking?” Teases Starscream wiping small tears of joy from his optics and Megatron knew he was going to hear a lot from Starscream about this topic. Remind him again why he decided to mention his peculiar history with his literal rival. Oh right. He believed his captains to be mature enough to let it go. And just maybe, he believed himself ready to talk about it aloud. Oh how wrong he was.  

“Genuinely, how’d you manage to tap those sweet, sweet rims of Optimus Prime?” Laughed Knockout while clawing himself back onto his seat.

The warlord visibly deflates and holds his digits over his face, glaring at Knockout through them.

“The meeting.” He grunts disapprovingly. The more they laughed the more he felt like it was just one click ago. When he and….. Orion were still on the same side. It was silly and perhaps made him even more immature than the others. But would you ever let go of something so precious, something so daring like Orion Pax? Megatron knew he couldn’t. Not yet, if ever.

“Oh by Primus he’s so not over it yet.” Laughs Blackarachnia watching her leader's faceplates shift into a deeper frown. “Look at him, all defeated.” she chuckles evilly. All of his commanders seemed to enjoy torturing him. What a lovely bunch he had picked out for himself.

“No comment, now if we could address the latest-”

“Oh, he’s so not over it.” interrupts Konckout with his flamboyant smile directed straight at Megatron whose optic ridge dares twitch a little. Perhaps it would be for the better to take a short break. The warlord thinks his optics drifting to the only mech who was keeping his composure. Shockwave. 

The intelligence officer returns his gaze and holds it for a moment, then he stands up. “Let us commence with a short break. I seem to be needed elsewhere.”

“Let me accompany you.” Megatron offers and gets up, making sure to do so slowly and keep whatever dignity he has left.

The other bots simply cackle, except Soundwave, who remains silent, his faceplates sporting the mocking smiley face.

“Thank you, my lord.” Shockwave answers formally, walking out of the room. 

“No need.” Megatron huffs, straightening his posture, and his mind begins slowly drifting. Was he really not over Orion yet? “Where are we headed?” He asks out of habit.

“To the groundbridge opening. There seems to be a problem and my subordinates requested me specifically to go deal with it.”

“Must be pretty serious, have they mentioned anything specific?” The clangs of his pedes follow Megatrons words as they make a sharp turn. 

Was he really still hung up on the past? Even after all this time? It’s been so long since he’s thought about it. Always keeping himself busy.

“The groundbridge seems to have gone dormant.” answers Shockwave simply, nodding to a few vehicons passing them by.

“Troublesome.” Megatron answers not even thinking the information over. 

Was he ready to admit he cared for that mech greatly?

Perhaps next time. The warlord shakes his thoughts away and does what he’s done millions of times before, he focuses on the buzzing room around him. Bots of all shapes and qualifications carrying fixing tools and hurrying about. They all seemed very focused on fixing whatever was wrong but once the warlord entered with Shockwave in tow they all seemed to somewhat scatter, getting out of the way.

“How long will you need?” Megatron asks when Shockwave circles the computer connected directly to the groundbridge by a massive tangle of cables. Shockwave kicks the cable ball and moves on to the red flashing screens.

“A few clicks, supposedly.” Says the mech with confidence.

The warlord takes his cue to glance in the general direction where the groundbridge should open. His spark burning inside of his chest. And he asks again.

Was he really not over Optimus Prime?

“Aha!” Ratchet cackles, banging his fist onto the table. 

“Gotcha fragger.” He swears and jabs at the computer screen showing the text ‘Initiating groundbridge opening.’ After countless hours he’s got it! And it wasn’t even the night part of Earth’s cycle yet. Maybe he would be able to recharge today.

The doctor tapped his digits impatiently as the screen slowly loaded. He wasn’t fond of waiting for things to happen, yet right now he had nothing better to do. In times like these he was forced to be alone with just his own processor and spark. Ratchet didn’t like that. He’d always come to wonder and think about the past. Like there was some unknown power dragging his processor to memories and feelings he made sure would never come see the light of day. Like today’s conversation.

His servos clenched. Megatron was never in the right to turn his back on Optimus Prime, to Orion.

Orion. Ratchet thinks. The mech he’s loved for eons with no end yet could never have.

The doctor sighs deeply and looks in the general direction of where the groundbridge should open. The beeping machine being his only witness.

Would Optimus ever accept him? And if he did, would Ratchet finally be happy?

Shockwave turns away from the computer.

“Just as promised.” He adds, abandoning it completely. 

The warlord grunts in approval and crosses his servos, metal grinding against metal.

It was the only approval Shockwave needed to patiently stand next to his leader and wait for the groundbridge’s test opening. To all the other mechs, now fewer in numbers it must’ve seemed that Megatron was as imposing as ever yet Shockwave knew there was a lot on his mind. Be it regarding the laughs of his makeshift family or the actual meeting's topic, the intelligence officer knew better than to pry. He simply stood by, silently following Megatron’s gaze into the empty space before them.

A great rumble ripped through that silence. 

“What the hell was that?” Shouted Jack.

“Came from the groundbridge.” Arcee states, jumping over the makeshift sofa. Bumblebee followed suit. 

After the strange revelation, everyone retired to the common area to play video games and take their minds off things, well except the Prime who left for patrol. And they would’ve much more preferred to keep it that way, except the video games weren’t working anymore. Not after that whatever-it-was-thunderbolt. 

Arcee ran in first, then Bumblebee with Bulkhead, and finally, the kids as well. Silence followed them like the plague. The groundbridge room looked unchanged. Just as messy as before, too. But the screens did no longer flash in bright red and the newly returned whirr of the groundbridge was the sole sound in the room.

But there was no doctor.

“What do you mean there is no Megatron.” Demanded Knockout, clearly very sober now.

“It is as I have said.” Answeres Shockwave in a surprisingly calm manner, with an applaudable resolve to not let this incident phase him. Even though it was seemingly unexplainable by science.

“So, you fixed up the groundbridge. It exploded somehow and took Megatron to the pits with it.” Blackarachnia repeats, looking at the values describing the groundbridge. “But everything is in perfect order.” She humms for herself.

“What a shame.” Retorts Starscream with his arms crossed.

“Inquiry: Captains proceed with the meeting.” Interrupts Soundwave. He is loyal to Megatron, yes, but he’s just as loyal to the Decepticons, and if Megatron was the only one missing, they could proceed without him just fine. The decepticons would not fall just because of a minor inconvenience, the captains thought trying to appear at utter peace. Besides, Megatron will be back.

“Agreed. We don’t need him.” Sings Starscream walking out of the bridge room “The groundbridge is working is it not? Problem solved.” The seeker adds already planning his charismatic speech. Bots always gossiped about Starcream’s plans to take over Megatrons position and questioned why would anyone keep him around? Simple, there was more to his ‘plans’ than becoming the great Decepticon warlord, but he will never admit that.

“..I suppose.” Adds Blackarachnia, being the second and not last to move on. 

It hurt. Well, being in pain was Ratchet’s everyday cup of energon, but this, it felt different. He felt like his body was heaved down by armor it never had. His optics slipped in and out of focus onto the sky and the treetops-

“What?!” The doctor sits up from where he was lying down. Why was he lying down?

“Who are you?” A stern, deep voice questions. Ratchet’s optics search for the source.

“Where did you take me?” Asks the doctor his supposed kidnapper. Why did his voice sound so similar?

“You’re asking me that?!” The voice answers making Ratchet’s energon run cold. It was him. His mouth spoke the words but his mind didn’t think them. Perhaps he was in a dream?

“Tell me about it. If this is a dream it’s a horrid one.” The voice-, his mouth says. 

“I didn’t say anything,” Ratchet breathes. What the frag was going on??

“Have you…hacked my processor?” asks the voice, his voice. But it was deeper and rustier. Ratchet doesn’t answer this time. He looks around. Attempts to move. His pedes feel heavy like half of him isn’t willing to cooperate. The doctor grunts, and his servo moves.

It's gray.

His helm snaps to the rest of his body, unprompted. “By Primus what have you done to my paint job??” he questions.

“Stop using my mouth to speak!” The doctor shouts

“Your mouth?? How are you making my body move!?”

“For frags sake, if you say one more word I swear I will stuff your dentae into your exhaust pipe!”

Ratchet threatens Unicorn knows who, mostly out of habit.

By primus have I gone mad? 

Wait. That wasn’t Ratchet’s thought.

How.

A pregnant pause fills in the space where nothing is said but Ratchet can feel the other thing thinking.

“I am not a thing.” The….other part? retorts.

“Yeah? Are you a parasite from the pits then?” Ratchet grunts, trying to move his… this body up. Something sits him back down.

“A PARASITE? What are you then? Unicorn himself??” Ratchet says, yet they’re not his words. They’re someone else’s.

“Oh jolly, what else would you be? Fragging with my helm. Knocking me out. Be less convincing fragger.”

Megatron scoffs. Someone was inside of his processor and somehow HE was the one being accused. And what a foul mouth too! Absolutely vile if you ask him. Undignified.

“Go rinse your dentae then, scraplet.” What? Could he have said that aloud? This conversation seemed a tad bit too familiar.

“Uh, yeah, no I don’t think so? Frag you.” Someone says . By Primus, he knew this mech. There can be absolutely no way.

“....Ratchet?” Megatron questions.

“Megatron?” Ratchet responds with their mouth.

Great. Fucking great.

They both think simultaneously. 

And so they sit there, a silver bot wearing red ornaments.

A warbuild with the servos of a seasoned medic.

Both alone yet in a way, accompanied.

Chapter Text

One step at a time. 

That’s what they usually tell you when you begin doing something new. And right now, it is quite literally, what the one mech is doing.

One step. At a time. Or well, seemingly. 

Except it is more like tripping. And uprooting trees. And falling. Lots of falling.

“Stop trying to TRIP ME!” Ratchet shouts aloud knowing full well he could just think it and Megatron would hear him just fine. It was a painful reminder of the downright fucking situation they found themselves in. One Ratchet sure as hell didn’t need.

Oh but I am not. Maybe if you hadn’t insisted on trying- Megatron says mockingly before having his line of thought interrupted. 

“Oh stuff it. Megatron.” The doctor retorts in cold blood. His dentae feeling awfully sharp in his mouth. He didn’t know Megatron had sharp teeth….. Fuck.

Fuck indeed. Megatron responds cackling at Ratchets dismay of being caught thinking something else other than slurs. Maybe if you weren’t so distracted believing lies your Prime spouts you wouldn’t be tumbling every second. the warlord adds.

They stumble. 

“DO NOT drag Optimus into this.” Ratchet shouts not bothering to think it again. Luckily there were no humans nor cybertronians to believe the one mech mad. Only creatures of the forest, fleeing with Ratchets every word.

“Maybe if you weren’t thinking about how worried he must be every second it would make this EASIER.” Megatron responds, aloud this time making them look truly mad, standing among the treetops, waving their arms around. 

“I am NOT! I am trying to get us SOMEWHERE unlike YOU” Ratchet shouts knowing full well he is lying and hoping at the same time that whatever emotions of his Megatron could feel, it wouldn’t be these. 

Oh please. Their optics roll and arms cross over their chassis. You’re acting like a dog whining about not being able to see it’s owner. 

Megatron grumbles and feels himself grow even more mad after the comment. Surely not his anger. But there was also something else pulling on his spark. An emotion that he couldn’t tell was his or Ratchets. It made him feel uneasy. 

You don’t know shit about Optimus. Ratchet thinks this time. Making sure his point is carried across. He moved the frame onwards again, ignoring the knot forming in his spark. He did not like talking about Optimus. Especially when he couldn’t hide anything. 

Oh yeah? Tell me about him then. Tell me what I don’t already know. Megatron challenges, prying at the knot in, what he identified as Ratchets spark. Whatever information he could get, he would take. 

He doesn’t have to prove anything to you, and neither do I. The doctor says, stepping carefully between trees. Being so tall was really annoying, but distracting. Taking him further away from what he didn’t want to tell. 

That’s true. I don’t need reasoning from a backstabber and his lap dog. 

“FUCK YOU.” Ratchet shouts, scaring off a nearby flock of birds. “I am NOBODYS lap dog.-” Careful now. “-I followed Optimus because he saw what you didn’t, because was RIGHT,-” screamed out Ratchet into the tree covered sea, loosing his temper like many times before. He hated mechs who wouldn’t respect his family . “-because HE IS A TRUE PRIME!.” and…..because I love him. 

His insides twisted. Their insides twisted. 

But it wasn’t Ratchets processor that felt dizzy.

That was Megatron. 

Ratchet could feel their servo move and grab at their helm, he felt well. But he knew Megatron didn’t. And that made him sick too. 

“What the frag are you doing?” he questions as their knees buckle, throwing them onto one knee. 

He can feel Megatron take a deep vent. 

By Primus. i s the only coherent thought between them. 

Ratchet picks them up with a groan and a creak. He resets their optics. 

“Hey fragger, asked you a question.” He says feeling as if half of him was spinning in circles, mumbling incoherent thoughts not even whatever this was could translate.

“I- apologize.” Megatron says aloud, out of reflex perhaps. And Ratchet knows he means it, which somehow makes this whole argument even stranger. Had he said something?

No, no you didn’t. Admits Megatron and this time, Ratchet feels something else. But it doesn’t seem like a completely dishonest feeling. On the contrary, it seems...sad? Had he upset the damn Warlord? Good bec-

“No. Infact you-” 

“STOP READING MY FUCKING THOUGHTS” he explodes. Right. This shitty link has two ends.

I am not happy about this either Ratchet. the warlord grumbles, hiding away whatever thread of emotions Ratchet was peering at, replacing them with irritation. They both knew this wasn’t the last of this conversation. But for now, they needed to find shelter.

“At least we can agree on that.” the doctor says, accidentally breaking down a tree with their heavier and stronger servo.

Megatron doesn’t answer after that. Well, as much as a mech can not answer in a mental link while fused to another. There are emotions still whirling between them, ones Ratchet can recognize as his own, ones that are Megatrons and ones neither of them knows whos they are. 

And to Megatrons credit, he makes Ratchet trip only a few more times after that. Laughing aloud like a mech with many screws lose who laughs at himself tripping and falling. Which, if there were any onlookers, was exactly what was happening. 

Ratchet was indeed curious what was the whole change of mood about and he could feel the unsaid sometihng hanging in the air like a heavy load of metal. Which was weird. He always took Megatron for someone collected and firm, never leaving things unresolved. 

Well, he wasn’t always like that, not before the war. Much like Optimus, Megatronus used to be an open book afterall. A mech full of honesty and dreams bigger than his armor plating could hold together. But Ratchet also used to be a lot different. A young ambitious mech with much more recharge than his current self could hope for.

In fact he was so ambitious and prideful that he took on the biggest challenge his medical course could offered. He volunteered in Kaon. 

By that time he had his first course and combat training complete so even though he was too young to go, his superiors allowed it. 

“Ratchet. Medic.” He’d said with a grin as wide as his helm and flashed the guard with his badge. 

The purple femme simply nodded and opened the door for him. Clearly not paid enough to care about who entered. 

What a party killer, the white mech thought walking in through the heavy door. 

After that it wasn’t long before he met the first warframe. 

Huge build, orange and grey plating, scars across the face like he’d never seen before. Something was exciting about seeing a bot so huge for the first time and even more exciting realizing they were your first patient. 

“Sup….Doc?” The scarred mech, who was apparently missing a tooth too, greeted and stood up. Making them tower over Ratchet even more. Why had they been waiting? They were clearly wounded. 

“Let’s get you fixed up.” He says before anything else, his medical protocols overriding any questions he might’ve had. 

“Aye aye!” The warframe saluted with a few missing digits. Primus was there something this bot had that was whole?

They did. Ratchet would later come to know that Swingblast ,that was their self given designation, had their spark chamber intact. At which he’d visibly frown and shake his head. Ridiculous. 

Through his time in the battle arena he would slowly come to realize Swingblast wasn’t the only gladiator missing things. It was painful watching how the limbs he’d have the material to fix were torn back off and scrapped and it was even sadder seeing how bots cheered for said things. 

By the time he met him he was the only medic who’s name the gladiators bothered to remember. Or rather, the only medic who decided to come back each time, out of his own free will. 

He knew who Megatronus was. He’d seen what he’s done to others. So when it came to sharing his rusted medbay with the warframe he wasn’t particularly thrilled about it. He would fix him up, yes, but that didn’t mean he had to do it carefully nor slowly. 

That was until he met him. 

Megatronus was a mech more capable with words than most mechs in cybertrons ruling positions. And that would be an understatement. There was even one time when he had convinced Ratchet to steal a few datapads for him from the archives. 

Archives managed by Orion Pax. 

A small, irrelevant data clerk who happened to catch the white doctor in training and who coincidentally was a fan of Megatronus. He was luck Orion chose not to report it if Ratchet took him to the arena and let him meet with the big gladiator himself. 

Well, that couldn’t hurt. It was Megatrons fault for getting him into this mess anyways. So he did. He took the data clerk with him. Couldn’t hurt to bring him in once. Twice. Thrice.

Until Orion had a reputation of his own between the gladiators. He was spontaneous, wild and surprisignyl prone to causing trouble. Ratchet didn’t mind bringing him along. And Megatron didn’t mind having him around. 

You’re thinking about him again. 

Fucking FUCK “ stop DOING THAT.” Ratchet jumpes. “That was private!” He shouts feeling amusement pool over from Megatron. How long had you been listening?? He asks this time painfully aware of exactly how close his spark must be to Megatrons. 

From the moment you zoned out and stopped focusing on not stepping on things. The warlord admits. And you decided to steal those datapads on your own by the way. 

Okay enemy or not there was definitely energon rising to his faceplates now.

“Well I remember it differently. Correctly.” Ratchet says zooming in on the ground again, pretending to focus on, as Megatron worded it ‘not stepping on things’. “ But I don’t regret letting you sway me. Had I not gotten caught there would be no Optimus Prime and YOU would be terorizing cyberton.” The grey and red mech says to himself, only having birds flying around as witnesses. 

I am positive you just described the way your senate rules. With your dear Prime in tow. 

Maybe Ratchet should be grateful Megatron was willing to argue instead of laughing at him for zoning out. He can’t decide. 

“The senate and Optimus are completely different. Optimus cares about the people, and the senate listens .” Ratchet answers. They’d been walking for a while now, and the trees have grown lesser in number. Replaced by rocky and steep paths. Surely there’d be some kind of cover soon. 

Mhm. Came a snarky remark followed by, Surely didn’t care much when the senate started a war against his partner. 

This time it wasn’t Ratchet who was making them both feel embarrassed and bitter. 

“Fragging grow up Megatron, it’s been eons.” He comments on the stray thought from the warlord. What childishness to hold a grudge over feelings lost to time. It was a.... surprisingly Megatronus thing to do. 

“Oh please, what would you know. You followed after Optimus like a dog the moment he turned his back on the people.” On me.  

The last part wasn’t meant to be heard, maybe that’s why it was never said aloud. 

“....You really loved him didn’t you..?” The doctor questions. Why did he even care? Surely it must be the situation. There were emotions, thoughts, in his helm that weren’t his and he could never fathom caring for the warlord now. That’s right. It must be the situation.

A scoff leaves his lips. Their lips, might as well acknowledge that fact to maybe lessen his helmache a little bit. 

“I did. He didn’t.” Megatron says with bitterness added to the whirlpool of their emotions. “And since we agreed on a temporary truce.-” Oh no absolutely not Ratchet can feel the deep tone Megatron used and he knows he’s not gonna like what comes next. He didn’t slip, did he? He hasn’t in millenia! He-

“Don’t pursue him.” 

It was short. Simple. Emotionless. 

That is unless you were connected to the the otherwise stoic warmech. Because under the surface Ratchet could feel Megatron knows why he’s giving him this piece of advice. And he hated that feeling. He would’ve much rather been left in the dark on how serious the warlord was about it. 

“I can feel it. I can feel it when you think-...when you speak of him.” Okay so he knew, but this was going too far. Ratchet supposes someone finding out was inevitable. But frag did it have to be the pits blessed decepticon leader??

“Okay i will shut you there. You have no right to meddle in my PERSONAL affairs.” Ratchet snarks angrily. “ Second of all what do you know?? Maybe sometimes after the war there’ll be a good place and time! It’s called sensibility. You don’t have that.” He says accusingly now knowing the anger between them was his. HOW DARE this FUCKFACE even try and GIVE HIM advice after pretending for millenia they were never friends?

“No Ratchet listen he’s-” 

“I said STUFF IT.” he’s not ready for that. 

And he never will be. 

But Ratchet knows that already. 

He’s realized it a long time ago.

Chapter Text

“Is this your equivalent of silent treatment?” Megatron asks, leaving the cliffs' overhang that shortly provided them shelter for Earth's night cycle.

No one answers. 

Ratchets consciousness retracted as far away as it could inside their shared chassis and refused to react. 

The silence was….strange, to say the least.

Megatron could still feel the other's presence but never hear him, which would’ve been appreciated at the beginning of this escapade. But now? It just felt dry. Like spoiled energon.

He was now the only spark in control of a frame made for two. For any other spark, the burden might’ve been too heavy right from the start, but Megaton managed. That didn’t make it any less exhausting, though. Seeing the same green treetops and blue sky for miles drove him mad. How could this damned mudball be so huge? And frankly, so deserted? It has been cycles!

He’d made all kinds of comments on this. On Earth. The Earthlings. The Primes team. And even Optimus himself. Nothing would get Ratchet to budge out of his hypothetical ball.

“Well alright, I’m glad to see you’re still as stubborn as ever.” Megatron chuckles, piloting their frame with heavy thuds of their pedes. It isn’t that strange, once a mech gets used to it. The difference in frame is there, but surprisingly none of his systems seem to acknowledge the fact. His servos are bigger, less rigid, and he’s 65 % sure he’s missing most of his battlefield armor. It’s not like he can check though, trees don’t exactly have reflective surfaces. His paint job’s still silver though, with some red accents here and there. 

“You’re walking like an elephant,” Ratchet complains out of nowhere.

“...a what?” 

You heard me. You’re big. Lousy. Like an elephant in porcelain. 

“I feel like you’re insulting my singular effort of trying to get us somewhere.” The warlord smiles. He could still barely feel Ratchets spark but at least he was talking to Megatron again. 

I am insulting your inability to walk like someone who isn’t covered in battle armor, carrying multiple weapons and actually cares about his surroundings, the doctor snarks. 

That makes Megatron stop in their tracks and rather guiltily glance behind them, optics drifting between splintered trees and dug out dirt. I suppose I am not the most graceful. He admits. 

A chuckle escapes their frame. 

“And to think some called you Kaons Grace in Brutality.” 

“Like you were so much better. What was it your peers called you? Masochistic ambulance? Because no matter how bad we looked, you just kept coming back?” 

“Something like that,” Ratchet admits, parts of his spark humming quiet, fond tunes now. 

Megatrons spark reciprocated.  

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Medic cadet, Ratchet.” He’d say at those rusted gates of Kaons employees' entrance. It was guarded by a booth that never managed to look intimidating at all. Mostly because the mechs inside were all tired and were just there as onlookers. The scanners did most of the work. From telling you to stop, identifying you and figuring out whether you were supposed to be there or not, to opening your door or kicking you out. 

“Approved entry” buzzed the ID scanner and opened the door for Ratchet. The piece of scrap that’s been stuck under them squealed as they did, the medic cadet winced. Not so much because of the sound, but rather because of the damage it was causing.

Then followed the same mundane walk, the sound of his pedes bouncing off the walls alongside many other sounds. Mostly hellos or frantic running around so mechs and femmes could get somewhere quicker. 

Then he’d open the door to his medbay. That’s right. There was even his designation on it and everything. He came by so often, that one of the gladiators scratched it on with their claws, and since Kaon did not care for its medabay, a few scratches on the door weren’t even discussed.

Ratchet kept it clean. Orderly and scrubbed. Or, well, he would leave it that way. But the organizers would usually send broken gladiators to his medbay even before he’d clock in. Most didn’t have the patience to wait, so they would rummage through the room, find whatever quick fix they could and leave. 

This was one of those days. 

There, kneeling next to one of his supply cabinets, was a large mech that immediately froze up when the medbays door wheezed open.

“Hello Swingblast.” Ratchet exhaled. 

The mech smiled, innocent like  a puppy that was sadly doomed with being born a warframe. 

Then routine would follow. Ratchet would fix them up, and all the other patients that  suddenly streamed in through his door, and then he’d head to Megatronus’ cell. The fragger was ever so noble to let all his brothers and sisters be taken care of first. 

Ratchet was charmed. Really. 

Right until he had to grab his supplies, waltz into Megatronus’ holding cell and listen to him yap about the next grand scheme of things. To his big speeches and ridiculous gestures. Maybe even to the way his words rhymed sometimes, when he really got into it. 

“If your rusty arse has anything more than a-” 

He’d say opening the door. 

Then there they were. 

He’d offline his optics. And online them again. Wincing. 

Orion was kissing Megatronus. 

His spark twisted. 

“Oh, oh uh Ratchet!” Megatronus called, noticing him. “We uh- Sorry.” He pushed Orion down a little, smartening himself up and clearing his throat.

It hurt. Seeing his two best friends like that. Why? Ratchet didn’t know. But looking at them like this. Together. He didn’t like how Megatronus’ servo rested on Orion’s hip joint.

But neither did he like the way some energon trickled down the gladiator's leg. So he ignored the feelings. 

“Alright sparkshits. Scoot over or I’ll let your arse bleed out of your energon lines.”

He said to them that day. 

And after his shift would be over. Long hours from then. He’d say: “I think I’m in love with Orion Pax” to himself. And he’d stand by that statement for a large portion of his life. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Wait. 

Megatron thought, taking the mental break of not having to speak his words. He and Ratchet had now settled into a somewhat co-piloting situation. 

I thought you were supportive of my relationship with Pax. 

His words held no malice. 

I was. Back then, I couldn’t bring myself to hate you.

And neither did Ratchets.

Chapter Text

I thought you were supportive of my relationship with Pax. 

Megatron thought, his words held no malice. 

I was. Back then, I couldn’t bring myself to hate you.

And neither did Ratchets. 

And now? Megatron asks. He knows Ratchet hates him. Or, well, hated him. Y’know, since the Autobots and Decepticons. But, while there was some form of resentment still lodged deep within Ratchet's tone and sparkpulse, there wasn’t any……hate. 

Ratchet sneered. Ofcourse I do. He replied out of habit and surprised himself with how little he meant it. Wait nonono, no. He’s talking about a literal murderer. About the Megatron. About-

Well I don’t. The warlord cuts of Ratchet’s train of thought. 

That catches Ratchet of guard. 

Don’t act so surprised. Sure, I did resent you for choosing Optimus at the beginning, but you have proved time and time again to be a great warrior. And you know I respect that. 

No. Ratchet didn’t know. Well, he could’ve guessed it if he tried. He just…never let himself really think about it. Thinking Megatron hated him just as much as….as he…as he hated Megatron made a lot of things easier for the doctor.  Because any sane mech would resent the warbringer. Ofcourse. 

Well you should. Ratchet answers, unable to say anything else.

Yeah, I tend to surprise stuck-up pricks. The warlord says, cackling, their frame emitting a rumbly laugh.

It isn’t Megatron's usual deep cackle, they both note. In fact, it’s like a strange combination of both their voices. Bearing Ratchet’s snark at the edges and Megatron's deep rumble. 

“I ain’t stuck up, you pompous fragger.” the doctor answers.

“Exactly what  a stuck-up prick would say, old friend.” Megatron retorts, also aloud. Having nothing but the sky as their witness. The animals had all run off from around them a long time ago, and the trees barely count. 

The two settle into an actual kind of comforting argument. They walk, make remarks on one another or their faction, and while Ratchet will never admit it, Starscream is starting to grow on him a little bit. From Megatron’s point of view, though. From his own? He’d still make the Screamer eat dirt. Just like Megatron would make Bumblebee swim with oceanic critters. Just a nice, relaxing swim, he’d make him go for. 

This drew a chuckle from both, Megatron and Ratchet alike. Maybe, just maybe, they had both missed eachother more than they ever let on. They could feel it in their chasis. And so they settled into a comfortable kind of banter, for a little while. 

Hey, don’t let it get into your helm, but I’m glad it was you. The doctor admits. Were this any other situation, he would’ve never admitted it. Not aloud. But he didn’t speak it now, did he? 

Sentimental, Hatchet? Megatron laughs, again, with that snark-edged rumbling cackle of theirs. Well. he starts after a moment, realizing Ratchet actually meant what he’d said. 

Nope. You ruined it. I take it back. Go frag yourself. I hope you hit your faceplates on an exceptionally hard surface. Ratchet sneers, chuckling too. 

You wound me! The warlord retorts, his spark glowing warmly inside their shared chassis.

Ratchet never thought he would laugh with Megatron again. He really hated him, hated what he stood for and how he presented it. Was he really so easy to persuade? Was he betraying the Autobots by this? No. At least he didn’t think he was. He wasn’t stuck with the Decepticons’ leader anymore. He was stuck with Megatron. The mech that had once been his friend. The one he believed changed so much, when in fact, he hadn’t.  

To be entirely honest, he wasnt sure what would come of this. They have spotted a human settlement not far off and were heading towards it, but what would come of them returning to the war? Like this. Like them? 

Ratchet had posed the question, and Megatron felt as unsure as Ratchet did. He admitted he wouldn’t be able to face off the Autobots so strongly now, either. They weren’t enemies for him anymore, he saw them through Ratchet's memories as bots full of life, personality, potential.  

Can you imagine his surprise when he found out Bulkhead is an artist? A talented one too. 

Were this any other cycle, they would’ve both ignored the feeling. Pretended it wasn’t there until they parted ways. But now? They weren’t even sure they could part ways. 

So they talked. 

It was surprising to the both of them, how many misunderstandings and assumptions had built themselves up between them. Looking back at it, they’ll laugh about the siliness of it. Yet today it still feels like a fresh wound. The conversations weren’t pleasant, but nesccessary. 

And considering the fact it took them almost a week to comfortably speak with eachother again, I say they were truly mandatory. 

Oh also, remember that swim Megatron would absolutely send Bumblebee for if he’d come across him? 

Yeah, Bumblebee could use some of that right now. If you assume cybertronians can swim in saltwater, ofcourse. 

“Bee if you’re going to walk across the room one more time, I swear I am snapping your pedes off.” Arcee threatens from her seated position. Bouncing her own leg up and down. 

It was a nervous habit she picked up from Jack. It helped. Sometimes. 

She drew an angry beep and bleep from the yellow scout, who, on purpose, now made more noise while moving around. 

“Well, that sure ain’t gonna help me find ‘im.” Chimed in Wheeljack, who was called in as backup to help out the now medic-less and scientist-less team of Autobots. He had been tinkering with the malfunctioning ground bridge for a couple of days now and knew it was gonna drag on for maybe another week or so. 

Well, the ground bridge literally committed harakiri. Repairing it to a somewhat functioning state would require weeks. And sure, he’s managed to pound it into not toppling over physically, but according to Optimus, there was some kind of virtual bug too.

Let’s pray that died with the groundbridge, yeah?

“I’m sure Jackie will find him soon,” Miko interjects, looking up from the video game she’s been trying to beat. 

“He better.” Arcee barks from her spot, where she was now tackling Bumblebee to the ground. 

Ever since Ratchet disappeared through the malfunctioning gate, everyone has understandably been on edge, because while they were one medic short, the Decepticons seemed unfazed. The Screamer went around spouting nonsense and causing general mayhem. Knockout was seen streetracing more frequently (or so Bee says), and Soundwave was as creepy and unnerving as ever. 

On top of that, they have not seen Megatron for a while. That meant bad news. Major bad news. Because he was scheming. Or dead. Probably not dead. But a mech could dream, Wheeljack chuckled. 

“How do we know he’s not actually dead?” Starscream whines, chin on the table and head wrapped up in his servos. 

“Unless we have a sparkless frame, Megatron is alive.” Black Aranchia answers his question for the dozenth time, sounding as convincing as all the times before, just more annoyed. Was she unwaveringly loyal or just a great actress? Starscream didn’t know. 

“Affirmation: Groundbridge repairs are almost complete.” Shockwave interjects, also for the dozenth time. 

“Maybe he was bridged straight into the Autobot base and got offlined there.” Knockout adds, drawing a whine from his seeker colleague and a groan from multiple other bots gathered around the meeting table.

The Decepticon captains tried to maintain the faction without its leader, it was…managable. Not long-term, Primus no. Half of them had stage fright, uncontrollable anger issues, or some other problem with actually speaking to the masses. And on top of that Megatron somehow did a shit-ton of work. 

On top of that, those blasted Autobots seemed more excited to take their helms off. 

The other cycle, Starscream set out to secure some energon. The plan was to split his team in two, one as a distraction, the other to find the vein and mine as much as possible. Turns out the distraction team did not take into account they’d be hunted down like prey even after retreating. Sure, they might've kicked a couple buildings down, but who can not kick one down when they’re so fickle and easy to topple over? 

It’s safe to say Starscream had a horrible day. It was a good day for Knockout, though. The doctor hadn’t had such a good laugh in a while. 

Shockwave managed to secure the groundbridge which somehow imploded in on itself and fried all of it’s components in seconds. The bots working on scavenging and building up a new one worked quickly, and in two days their bridge was like new. Except it wouldn’t run. 

Tech bots preened the cables, even Soundwave, with Shockwave in tow, spent cycles hypothetically kicking the machine and turning it off and on. I say hypothetically, because they did not just go around kicking it and turning it off and on. That is below their level of intellect and if you were to think that was what they actually did, they’d be insulted. 

Either way, neither of them could figure out why the perfectly built and secured groundbridge wouldn’t run. 

“So..…CAN you get it to run soon?” asked Miko after shooting her way through a final boss on her console. She was sitting next to Wheeljack, who, to his relief, finally managed to connect all the cables to their rightful places. Did he know if it was gonna work? Absolutely not. Actually, probably not. It was very likely gonna explode. 

“You know me. I like big explosions.” He chuckled, enjoying the fact that Bee and Arcee were sent out to patrol and would no longer bother him. He liked the duo, but being constantly on edge did not improve their mood one bit. Plus, he was pretty positive Optimus was somewhat sulking. You couldn’t really tell with the Prime, he still went above and beyond to ensure all missions were successful. Maybe he was a little quieter? As much as he could be, Wheeljack supposed. 

“Duh.” Miko rolled her eyes and kicked him. “Does it have a big red button I can press to activate it?” The girl looked up, hiding her console in her pocket. She had quite big pockets. 

“Sadly, no. It’s a groundbridge. I have to activate it via command.” Answered Wheeljack and moved his human companion onto the desk where he could do so. Placing her behind his own servo, in case the groundbridge did blow up. 

Which, if Optimus warned him correctly about the bug, wasn’t gonna happen. 

Well, Optimus was wrong. 

Chapter Text

They woke up gulping for air, despite not needing any at all. 

Their frame creaked, and pistons wheezed, everything suddenly coming back online. 

It hurt. 

The sensation reminded Ratchet of being groundbridged for the very first time in his life. His processor swam, vision blurred, and tanks churred around like slushy. It was the kind of sickness you had no choice but to get over, hoping your frame would get used to it with repetition.

He hated it. 

They both did. He could tell Megatron was very close to purging their tanks. 

They swallowed the sickness back down.

Ratchet held a servo over their helm, hoping it would help with the pounding headache.

Megs? He asks the surprisingly quiet space in his processor. 

Still here. The other answers, making Ratchet let out a huffed vent he wasn’t aware he was holding, even through his rather heavy gulps. He could feel Megatron relax as well. 

Their optics slid in and out of focus, several gray blurs dancing around their vision, intertwined with black stars. 

“What is this again-” the doctor begins grumbling.

Then, Wheeljack bursts into the room. 

“SUNSHINE!!” The tired mech shouts and semi-jumps around their throat, but halfway remembers that maybe he shouldn’t and ends up braking, sliding and rolling into a place next to the berth. He’s a blur of colours for them, moving so quickly they barely register where he’d come from. 

“They were going to eat me!” He whines and immediately coils himself at their pedes when Arcee, Bumblebee, and the kids appear in the door as well. Ratchet moves their optics onto the doorway, where his team suddenly pops up. Wait, he recognizes that battered doorframe. 

They were in the Autobot medbay. 

I’m back at the Decepticon base. Megatron says. Weariness and surprise pooling over from his spark into Ratchets. 

Only Ratchet was in the Autobot medbay. 

“Ratchet, you’re alive!” Shouts Raf.

“I-” he starts, then stops himself. When he’d opened their intake, he heard his voice. There was no deep rumble at the edge of his tone. It was sharp. Just his. 

Bumblebee runs straight into his chassis, tripping on Wheeljack to hug-crash into Ratchet alongside Arcee. The doctor grits his dentae in pain. His whole frame hurts. His helm spins. 

Megs? 

I know.

And that’s all he gets before Ratchet’s sensors shut off his systems, not even giving the medic a chance to override them.

Ratchet? Megatron moves his servo on his own berth. He flexes his digits, optics fixed on the ceiling. Keeping them open hurt. 

He can still feel Ratchet's spark. 

But he’s alone. 

Whatever happened had been undone, but it left marks. It wasn’t gone completely. And, had he not felt Ratchets spark stirr awake his own, he would’ve signed it all off as a bad dream. 

The warlord places his servo onto his chassis. 

Well, maybe not necessarily a bad one. 

Ratchet? He calls out again, getting only a soft purr as a response. Maybe the doctor had fallen asleep. Megatron felt like falling asleep himself. This whole situation was ridiculous, really. And absolutely delusional. Maybe he’s gone crazy? Made this whole thing up. But his own betraying spark disagreed with that. And so did the slow and steady pulse of another mech's spark in his audials. The warlord huffed. His limbs were heavy, his chassis hurt, but he was back on the Nemesis. 

How was he back on the Nemesis? How was he, just him? 

Many questions crossed his mind, just to be quickly discarded, because in walked Knockout with an “Ah!” sound, announcing his glorious presence. 

When he did, Megatron, with creaking difficulty, lifted himself up onto his elbows. 

“Woah woah woah, sleeping beauties need a healing kiss first before going out to kick ass and bite off heads.” The pragmatic doctor cackles and tries to push Megatron back down fruitlessly. 

“Am I to understand that reference?” The warlord questions. Knockout had the habit of speaking in riddles sometimes. Or even worse, Earth’s riddles. 

“No.” his chief-medical officer answers, popping out the sound of his answer and smiling afterwards, satisfied with his response. He opens up his datapad. The warlord growls in annoyance. He could never fully guess what was Knockout thinking.

“So how are we feeling, dear Lord Megatron?” The polished mech asks, pretending like he has berthside manners, while prodding around a datapad, so he could take a full-frame scan of the now awake warlord. 

“Never better.” Megatron lies. He felt heavy, his chassis ached, and his shoulders seemed to have gone stiffer than a bike without any oil in it’s gears. Above all though, he felt…somewhat empty. 

It was unsettling. 

The change, that is. He noticed his voice lacked Ratchet’s snark and that his frame was heavier. His servos full of tiny debris and scarring, nothing like a doctor's . 

The medic glanced up and down at his superior, his own perfect medical servos resting on the datapad before initiating a final beep, to commence with the full-frame scan. 

“So you were presumably blasted into deep space by a groundbridge malfunction, left to drift the cold stars for a week, and everything you can say to your attending doctor about what it did to your frame is: 'Never better?'”

“There are a few creaking spots.” He admits, rolling back his shoulders as a demonstration. Knockout takes note of it and moves on to his tiny screen, asking routine questions about this and that, tending to what he deemed necessary while Megatrons processor slowly slipped out of focus. 

Would Knockout know how to fix him and Ratchet? How to fix him? He’s never heard of something like this. Would’ve Knockout? Scratch that, would’ve anyone else? He remembers the groundbridge malfunction; they both did. Primus Ratchet wouldn’t shut up about the damned bug whenever something even hardly related came up in their conversations. His helm was so oddly quiet now.

Knockout flicked his forehead. 

“I said. Two Earth cycles of berth rest,” he, apparently, repeated. Megatron heard it for the first time, though, and had to blink through the surprise. 

“Despite my obvious concerns and the fact you had been in stasis for a couple of earthly hours since your reappearance, the sentence ‘Never better.’ really does describe your physical state.” Knockout sighs

“Quite the stubborn weed, Lord Megatron,” comments Black Aranchia from besides Megatrons berth. Her servos crossed across her chest, or well, several of them. 

Megatron shivers inwardly. When did she enter the room? 

“Absolutely not.” He chooses to retort at Knockout and lean over the berth to push himself off. 

“Two cycles, no less.” Knockout stands his ground after chuckling with Aranchia about how actually out of it Megatron looks, his surprise must’ve showed.  

He takes an eight of that.

Megatron is not one to sit around, his office must be stockpiled to the ceiling now. He wanted- no, had to focus on his work. Because it drove him mad. 

thump thump

goes Ratchets spark beat mockingly.

It matched his own and brought comfort to his frame. He hated it for that. What would happen when Ratchet woke up? 

A pair of vehicons saluted their warlord. 

He couldn’t just feel the doctor's spark pulse, but also where he was. If someone would shove a map into his line of sight, he could pinpoint exactly where the Autobot base was. 

Which meant Ratchet could do the same thing for the Nemesis. 

He rounded the corner and opened the door to his office. 

They thought about how to explain being one, not how to explain this. 

thump thump

The sparkbeat laughed. 

Maybe, if he could pretend it had never happened, just like with Orion. He did manage to do that for eons after all. 

Maybe after some time, the feeling of closeness to Ratchet’s spark would fade out, like an old Cybertronian bond. Thinking about it, their situation was oddly similar to that of an old bond. 

His gaze swept over his office and stopped at his desk, halting any trail of thought. 

It was empty. 

There were his things and a couple of papers, but no mountains of paperwork. Megatron straightens his posture in surprise and scans his office again, taking a couple of steps inside. 

“We’re not hopeless, my Lord,” says a seekers voice from behind him.

Megatron circles the room and stands behind his desk to hide the slight twitch in his demeanor. The seeker knew how to be exceptionally quiet when he wanted to, and Megatron was a tad bit distracted by other problems at hand. 

“I say, if you wanted us to replace you so badly, you could’ve just stayed offline,” snarks Starscream, closing the door behind him and entering the office with a slight clack of his elated pedes. A fashion statement, he’d called them. 

“It is in my best interest to keep the faction as structurally secure as possible.” The warlord answers diplomatically. He was glad the generals could keep the faction from crumbling while he was gone. 

“But ofcourse, chivalrous, my liege,” sings Starscream. “You were greatly missed, and should’ve remained missed for one vorn and three quarters of another.” The seeker adds slightly more sternly, stepping forward, one servo behind his waist. 

 “Unfortunately, duty calls.” That’s a half-truth. 

“Not for almost offlined mechs it doesn’t.” 

thump thump

“Yet here I am.”

“So we were told.” 

And that was true. All of the commanders knew better than to believe Megatron would actually take the two vorns off. Starscream was just lucky enough to catch him in the act. 

Megatron reached for the files on his table, the seeker sighed in what may have been disappointment or perhaps relief.

thump thump

“We caught one of the Autobots snooping around our mines, he’s quite hot headed and very excited to get his spark pulled out of his chest.” Starscream announces in resignation while spinning around and slowly taking his leave, texting Aranchia and Knockout they owe him a couple hundred credits. 

The warlord buries himself in paperwork, or tries, he doesn’t even get through the first page before Ratchet’s spark pulse picks it’s pace back up. 

The doctor wakes up, again, and this time no one comes running.

“Blast this shite.” He curses quietly and rubs his helm. 

Ratchet? 

Fuck you’re still here! he gasps in surprise, okay, that was all very real then. Great. How the hell were they going to explain this shit. They didn’t have a plan before and sure as hell didn't have one now.

Missed you too, old friend. Megatron answers mentally and Ratchet swears he could feel the cackle as something pleasant spilled bit by bit into his spark, making him feel more at ease. It made him chuckle too, just quietly, only a small turn of his lips maybe. 

This is horrible. He answers letting the weight of their situation settle in just as he wills his frame to move. It hurts like hell. Everything creakes, like his parts were all reassembled after being chewed on by Predacons. He could feel Megatron try to focus on something, then fail spectacularly and grumble mentally. 

Are you seriously doing paperwork right now? asks Ratchet, mentally scolding Megatron. 

How did you-? 

I caught the last of what you were thinking of. 

Ah. 

They were so fucked. 

Ratchet lifted himself up from his own med berth, cursed, popped his shoulders and pushed himself off. He could feel Megatron symphatize with the slow, draggy streaks of dull aching pain that followed Ratchet with every step. 

It somehow made the pain a little less annoying. 

Nevermind. What happened to his medbay?

Tools were laying on every possible surface intertwined with unidentifiable scraps of metal like algae in a flowing river. Half of them had started to rust around the edges and the other half was covered in a strange mucus like substance Ratchet had, to his discomfort, stepped into. 

There were new scorch marks lining the walls and burned through things of unknown origin. With every click, every centimeter of his medbay that entered Ratchet’s field of vision he could feel his optics focus and anger rise exponentially. He was going to kill them. 

I’d hate for you to make my job easier. Megatron interjects as Ratchet pries a slimy wrench from a pile of metal rubble. The newly familiar warmth he could feel from Megatron almost making the doctor feel better. Almost. 

“WHEELJACK!!!”