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Beauty Within	By : Scienceteacher Category: Transformers > G1 > Slash - M/M Views: 4014 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story

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Disbelief

Ratchet and Wheeljack ran Bumblebee into the med bay as fast as they could. His damage was critical, his very spark exposed. Desperately, Wheeljack began to hook him up to life support as Ratchet began to tie off torn energon lines.

Hooking up line after line, Wheeljack soon had the mech looking like a fly caught in a spider’s web, but finally, he had him entirely connected. Sliding over to the main life support console, he pressed in several codes. Clicks and whirls could be heard as the system came on and took over for Bee’s shattered systems. Wheeljack began to monitor the readouts from each system.

“Battle processor.. Functioning… Meta processor.. Functioning.. Main power core.. Dangerously low and getting lower…. “He continued to roll off the stats to Ratchet, even as that medic worked frantically to stabilize him.

“Sloggers!” Wheeljack exclaimed. From the sound of his voice, he was totally shocked.

Without even looking up from his frantic work Ratchet asked “What?!”

Wheeljack leaned forward, punching a few more codes. He read the readout again. Then he redid the entire process again. “When’s the last time you did maintenance on this thing?” he asked Ratchet.

“Yesterday,” Ratchet answered flatly. He wondered why in the heck Wheeljack was even asking. The damned inventor knew that he kept every piece of medical equipment in top condition!

“Did you do a systems scan/check on it when you were done?” Wheeljack went through yet another set of commands and readouts, his expression one of confusion as to what the computer was telling him.

“Of course,” Ratchet had finally sealed off all of the leaking lines, now he began to cut off the heavily damaged sensory networks from the processor grids.

“Um, then we’ve got something really, really freagin’ strange going on..” Wheeljack said. He looked up, meeting Ratchet’s optics as the medic briefly paused to give the inventor a puzzled look.

“What do you mean by ‘freagin’ strange’?” Ratchet asked; His optics narrowed, since he didn’t like anything ‘freagin’ strange’ when it concerned patients of his.

“Well, um, it’s saying there’s two sparks in Bumblebee’s chassis,” Wheeljack explained. His core felt heavy, since there should never be ‘two sparks’ in any single chassis. It wasn’t good, wasn’t good at all!

Bumblebee was reasonably stable, so Ratchet strode over. He punched some more codes in and frowned at the resulting data. “This can’t be right.”

“But the computer scans can’t be wrong,” Wheeljack said. He met Ratchet’s optics, both of them feeling the same concern for Bumblebee. “Do you think that their sparks linked when their armor melted?” he asked Ratchet. The inventor’s imagination came up with the illogical, logical conclusion.

“I’ve never heard of it happening,” Ratchet answered.

“But that doesn’t mean it couldn’t. If they’ve been bond mates all these orbit cycles, then Droct’s spark would’ve recognized Bumblebee’s – might’ve bee attracted to it,” Wheeljack’s meta was on a roll now. His imagination was working overtime. But it did make sense; it was the only way it made sense.

“But Bumblebee won’t survive long with two sparks in his chassis, no matter how we repair him,” Ratchet said. The blackness of the dread of watching another patient off line; filled his core.

Wheeljack sighed sadly, he knew Ratchet was right. Bumblebee would off line with two sparks in him. Could they remove one of those sparks, in order to save the other? But that meant they’d end up killing the spark that they removed. And they wouldn’t know which one was Bee’s and which one was Droct’s when they did it. So they might kill Bee by accident. But could they live with themselves for killing Droct? It was a catch twenty-two, with no good way out no matter how you looked at it.

But then Wheeljack’s optics rested on the silent mechs lining the walls of the med bay. The unanimated gestalt team that he and Ratchet had been working on, an idea began to form in his meta. A possibility that they could, in fact, save both sparks. “Ratchet, are any of those unanimated mechs completed fully?” he asked quietly.

Ratchet looked over at the silent chassis of the five unanimated mechs; his blue optics began to clear as he realized what Wheeljack was thinking. “I just finished up the Ambulance this morning,” he said softly. “Do you really think we could successfully transfer one of the sparks to it? And what if it’s Bumblebee that’s transferred?”

Wheeljack shrugged as he stood up. “You know Bee, hell he’d be happy even if he ended up in an Insecticon chassis – as long as we saved his buddy too.”

“True, you do have a point,” Ratchet sighed as he also stood up. “Well, let’s give this a shot.”

-----

Droct felt the closeness of that beautiful spark he knew so well. Even as his systems shut down, he felt no fear as that warm blue spark seemed to engulf him. He fell into its warmth, leaving his pain behind, leaving his melting remains behind. He merged with Bumblebee, becoming one… If this was death… He was happy…

Suddenly, he felt something pulling on the spark that was him. It was forcing a chasm between him and Bumblebee, splitting them apart. In terror, both sparks tried to lock together, trying to stay as one. But the force that pulled was overwhelming, it tore them in two as it dragged Droct away.. Droct’s soul screaming with the agony of leaving his love….

“It’s in,” a male voice said. The sound of metal panels being clicked shut. The feeling of other panels being opened. There was the press of fingers inside chassis. The sensation of circuits accessed.

“Is it strong?” another male voice asked. There was the sound of key sequences being typed in; of a readout coming onto a screen.

“Looks strong,” the first voice observed. Then there was the sensation of being tapped on the helm by gentle fingers. “Alright mech, time to fully reactivate.”

Light filled his meta as Droct activated his optics. He found himself strapped down to an exam table, lights shining painfully into his optics. Two mechs slowly came into focus. One was a white painted mech with red crosses painted on his shoulders; the other one was a gray and white painted mech with a strange faceplate. Scanning the room, Droct realized he was in some kind of advanced medical facility. “Wh… where.. am I?” he stammered. His voice didn’t seem to sound like his voice anymore.

“Good, he’s fully integrated in the chassis systems,” the white mech said.

The mech with the facemask rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. “You’re in the flagship’s med bay,” he explained to the confused spark. Then he cocked his head. “Do you know who we are?” he asked.

Droct studied him. No, he’d never seen this mech before. “N..no,” he stammered.

“Well, this is probably the garbage mech’s spark then,” the white mech stated. Then he looked down at Droct and patted his chest plate. “I’m Ratchet and this is Wheeljack, you off lined down on the planet.”

“But your spark went into Bumblebee. We’ve just separated you two again,” Wheeljack added. “We had some extra mechs we were building, so we put you in one.”

“I… I’ve got a whole new chassis?” Droct stammered. Not able to fully comprehend what all that happened. The last thing he remembered was looking down that big cannon..

“Yes,” Ratchet replied. “But you’re designed to be part of a gestalt group. To merge with the others once they’re animated.”
“I am? But I’m no fighter… Bee said I’d just survey or fix things or something..” Droct stammered. He was terrified they’d find out about his phobia of guns…

Wheeljack chuckled and patted him, “Don’t worry, this gestalt is more a rescue group than a combat group, you’ll be fine.”

Droct looked from one to the other. A rescue gestalt? He guessed he could learn how to rescue mechs. That wouldn’t be so bad. So what was his alt form? Was he a tow truck or a fire truck or something? “So what’s my alt mode?” he asked them.

Wheeljack chuckled and nodded at Ratchet. “You’re an ambulance like him. You’ll be trained to be a full-time medic.”

“Bee told us you liked to repair mechs. Think you’ll be happy as my apprentice?” Ratchet asked. He did hope this mech would be eager to be trained as a full time medic; it’d make life a whole lot easier for Ratchet.

Droct nodded, yes, he could handle that career. “But what’s my designation?” he knew that with an Autobot chassis, he was now no longer Droct. So just who was he now?

“Well we designated your chassis as ‘First Aid’, but if you don’t like it then we can change it.” Wheeljack winked as he told him, his smile hidden behind his mask.

“No, ‘First Aid’ sounds good… Where’s Bee?” he turned his head, trying to scan the bay to look for his bond mate.

“He was damaged pretty heavily, but he’ll make it. Don’t worry,” Ratchet said as he patted First Aid’s chest. Unstrapping the new Autobot, he and Wheeljack helped him to his feet.

First Aid saw Bumblebee lying on the other exam table, still unconscious with all the life support cables coming out of him. “He sure looks bad, are you sure he’ll be ok?” he asked as he walked over and gently touched his bond mate’s helm.

Wheeljack put a comforting arm over his shoulders. “Ya, he’ll be just fine. It’ll just take the two of us a while to piece him back together. But you’ve got a bigger problem to take care of..”

First Aid looked up from Bee, confusion in his blue optics. “What’s that?”

“Well, they’re at the mines giving you a burial ceremony right now,” Wheeljack explained.

“They are?” the new Autobot shivered, not wanting to think of himself as dead.

Ratchet went over to an intercom and talked briefly to someone. Then he looked up at First Aid. “Sky Lynx will take you down to the surface; just tell him where the mines are.”

The door opened and a big mech strolled in. From the looks of it, he was some kind of crane in his alt mode. “Hey, I’m Grapple,” he introduced himself as he held out his hand to First Aid.

Taking his hand firmly, First Aid tried not to look bashfully at his feet. He was not used to mechs treating him with respect like this. “I’m , um, Dro-..I mean First Aid,” he stammered.

“Another medic, that’s great!” Grapple exclaimed. “Well, follow me, looks like we’re going to the surface,” he said as he turned and strolled towards the door.

With one last touch on Bumblebee’s helm, First Aid quietly followed the crane out the door. Knowing in his core, that those two medics were far superior to him – so Bee was truly in the best of hands…

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Beauty Within