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Triviality	By : mehmeh Category: Transformers > G1 > AU/AR Views: 2890 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, and I do not make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Authors: a_scattered_me (primarily Soundwave, Cassetticons, Spike), tsarist_secret (Optimus, Prowl, Ratchet, Jazz) (on LJ)
Rating: MA+
Universe: G1, AU-ish (with many elements from the other continuities, particularly the comics)
Characters: Optimus, Soundwave, most of the Cassetticons, Ratchet, Prowl, Jazz, Spike
Warnings: Allusions to sticky sex, Ultra Magnus is Dion theory.

Soundwave onlined to the Autobot's face and a splitting processor-ache. He gazed blearily, fascinated for a long moment at the other mech's peaceful, recharging features. With a muted scrape, he dislodged an arm from between their bodies and slowly traced a path from one offline optic and down the oil-streaked cheek. There was a comfortable heat pressed up against his chest, spreading warmth through his circuits and soothing his sore insides.
The Matrix. Their sparks bonding.
His memories crashed into him with the subtlety of Devastator's fist. Soundwave reeled back with a sharp intake of air and ungracefully scrambled back and away from the other prone form. He resolutely ignored his spark thumping with disappointment at being taken away from what, he realised with dismay, was now its other half and he hastily covered up his vulnerabilities; chest plating and interface panel firmly sliding shut. The Decepticon pushed a hand onto the ground, hoisting himself upright to stumble back onto his pedes. His gyros spun sickeningly and then he promptly fell back onto his knees with a loud crunch of gears. Evidently his still sluggish systems had not booted up properly yet.
Absently and more out of routine than anything else, he performed his customary diagnostic checks. Code scrolled down various windows in front of his optics, giving him unfamiliar figures that told him that the level of his telepathic abilities had somehow increased. Soundwave tried to figure out how and when he did, he was too sluggish to even react. He was not happy about it; the means did not quite justify the ends. Then, he tentatively probed the new connection that now resided in his spark. It felt nothing like a symbiotic bond. Terrifyingly intimate was perhaps a more apt description for it and beneath the layer that was the Autobot's presence, there was a foreign presence that he identified as the Matrix. That was the source of his amplified telepathy and if he wanted to access that new power, he'd have to access the Matrix.
Soundwave aimlessly stared past the river, past the dark outline of the trees before his optics fixated on the planet's single moon. His internal chronometer indicated that they had been offline for quite a bit, though not long enough to warrant the attention of his Cassettes or worse, Megatron. Soundwave...did not know how to react. Out of all the expected scenarios he had calculated,> this was definitely not one of them.
Still feeling stunned and more or less running on auto-pilot, Soundwave shakily crawled over to the river. The cold water lapped against his shin plating as he subspaced a clean cloth and began to scrub off the dried fluids around his thighs and the various scuffmarks that littered his chassis, especially around his tape deck. Much like a rudimentary drone, he used quick, rough movements and his fingers kept slipping through the cloth, scratching at his paintwork. Right now, he couldn't care less.
A little while after the spark connection was broken, Prime jolted online too and Soundwave's spark fluttered involuntarily when he sensed his> bondmate online. A groan broke from the leader mech's lips, his chest plating sliding shut. Optimus' pedes jerked and he moaned in pain, shifting side-to-side to work some stimulation back into his arms. A code allowed him to get his panel shut, and after five tries, Prime managed to roll over.
Optimus was moving around behind him, trying to find his bearings and Soundwave could hear his attempts to stand up. But, Optimus' chassis was too heavy, and when he crawled forward, his cheek guard and helm dragged in the dirt, along with a shoulder, and Prime could feel the black sod and grass wedging itself into places it shouldn't have been. He could hear Soundwave, could feel him, and an unsettling sensation developed in his tanks. Once he was far enough away, Optimus took several minutes to lose the small amount of energon that had still been in his tank. Optimus teetered dangerously on his knees, but after a few minutes he felt better, and stood up, legs splayed and unsteady.
After hearing Optimus purge his tanks, Soundwave ruthlessly squished that unfamiliar urge to console and assist. To merge their sparks and reaffirm their fledgling bond. To mate. The very thought of it only served to intensify the pain in his processors even more. Instead he concentrated on washing the dirt off his helm, cupping his hands in the rather shallow depths of the river and splashing as much water on him as he could.
Optimus stumbled over to Soundwave and once he was close, he had to control the heat going out of his vents before he worked himself up. Prime wanted his hands freed, and he wanted to wash himself, and he wanted his fucking mask. He was bonded. Forever. It was undoable. They'd be able to talk to each other over the connection, feel each other, know each other. They'd be able to mate now, mate to create a spark. He flexed his hands, fingers shaking.
"Take these off." Prime turned around and displayed his hands.
Soundwave visibly tensed when he heard the rough demand and straightened his spinal struts from his kneeling position, impassively taking in the wounds on the other mech's hands where the restraints had cruelly cut in. From the periphery of their bond, Soundwave could feel the other's anger steal through. He could also smell his scent,> his claim on the Autobot, stirring an unwanted reaction of satisfaction from his base programming. Without a word, Soundwave stood up. The cloth he had been using slipped from his lax fingers, falling in a sodden, stained heap by his legs. With his mouth pressed into a thin, grim line, the telepath calmly unlocked the cuffs. They too fell onto the ground, clanking against his left pede and sliding across the bank to settle in the water.
Prime's arms hung limply at his sides and he moved them with much pain so he could look at the damage done. Ratchet would be furious.
"Salve: useful," Soundwave murmured as he tossed an unmarked tube by the grass before turning his torso sharply away from Optimus.
Optimus ignored it. Instead he took several generous steps away to sit heavily on the ground and reached into his own subspace for his facemask so he could put it on. He devoured an emergency energon ration, and fought with giving one to Soundwave. Optimus figured he'd have one, but then remembered that they were Decepticons, and hardly had energon to spare.
Hunching his shoulders, Optimus turned and tossed his bondmate a little packet of energon. They were chewy condensed pieces, not the best tasting, but they'd do, especially as depleted as he knew they both were. Optimus' cpu ached and he knew he wasn't running at half of his normal proficiency. After the attempt on his life, Optimus wanted to strangle the mech until he offlined.
Soundwave watched uncaringly as the energon ration landed his pedes. The usual low fuel warnings flashed in front of him and yet he just stood there, droplets of water glinted in the moonlight as they rolled off the angled planes of his helm.
Rubbing the back of his hand across his antenna, Optimus said, "Now you know what the Matrix does to me; whatever it> wants..."
"Yes. Matrix: very much its own entity," Soundwave agreed neutrally. "Your frustrations: understandable."
Optimus only replied with a grunt and a shake of his head.
Only then did Soundwave reach down to snatch the ration and break apart the protective wrapper. His mismatched optics flickered a little at the drab taste and the energon stuck to his dental plates before his oral fluids dissolved it into something that his nearly empty tanks could be temporarily happy with. Now that he had some energy, his passive scanners activated automatically again, combing the surroundings for any intruders and he was pathetically thankful that the results came back negative.
Then, Soundwave noticed that Optimus had not even touched the salve. Perhaps Optimus preferred to let the wounds smart and self-repair slowly until he got his feisty medic to look at it. It felt rather insulting, though Soundwave was sure that he should be insulted at> himself instead for failing to kill the Autobot. Then again, he wasn't sure which was worse; his failure as a Decepticon or the dire consequences that would surely follow him for being permanently bonded to the> Prime out of all Autobots.
Be careful what you wish for. The result might not be quite what you expected, Soundwave thought with a grimace.
No. Fancy little fantasies like that had no place in the unattractive, harsh circumstances of Soundwave's reality. Several sounds abruptly escaped his vocaliser. It was unclear what he was trying to vocalise at first but after several tries, Soundwave realised with a start that he was laughing uncontrollably; strangled, slightly hysterical laughter that did not sound mirthful at all.
Prime's gaze flicked up at the noise, his blue optics brightening. Brushing his hands against his knees, Optimus worked himself up so he was standing. He took a cloth out of his subspace and wiped off his bloodied wrists, then staggered to the side and abruptly turned, his hands forming into a fist. Optimus lunged forward and decked Soundwave across his face, then nearly fell with his lack of balance. The dirt and pebbles must have been unforgiving against Soundwave's back plating. Perhaps Soundwave should have been thankful that he was still weak; a truly enthusiastic hit from him would have had him flying across the river.
Optimus didn't watch the fall, but shook his hand furiously to dull the pain. He panted, blue optics a dark indigo as he rapidly processed what was the best course of action.
"You're going to go back to the Decepticons and pretend this never happened. I'm going to go back to the Autobots and never mention this until at least the war ends. The bond will be eroded by then. You will not attempt to enter Autobot headquarters. I'm going to keep Blaster with me."
Soundwave lay back with his long legs splayed out, one elbow flat on the ground to support his weight while he wiped the back of his other hand across his stinging faceplates. He continued to laugh helplessly at the sheer ridiculousness of their unpredictable predicament, albeit quieter this time. His vents wheezed with the excess effort of trying to keep his systems cool and he swore that somewhere inside him, he could feel an already overstrained coolant tube burst and lose pressure.
"Blaster: second rate communications officer. No match for> my superior abilities," Soundwave scoffed from the background, not being able to resist a jab at the other Autobot, though some rather undignified sniggers still rose up from between his words.
Prime went to the river and carefully leaned over, dipping his hands into the water to remove the mechblood. He had been concentrating on reworking the coding for his communications systems since he had on-lined, and he jerked as it crackled to life in his audio. He answered several hails through text, assuring his friends that he was alright, and had only fallen asleep. It was only Ratchet he answered verbally to, but his words were short and concise.
"Bond: not to be ignored, regardless of the war," Soundwave continued to insist, leaning forward as he shifted to pull himself up onto his knees. "Situation: must be discussed. Conditions will not be favourable for either of us. Our sparks cannot take the distance. The bond will not> erode just like that, you fool!"
And yet Optimus continued not to pay attention to his warnings, seemingly perfectly content in his own world of denial. Soundwave's fingers clenched slowly and then unclenched periodically against the plating of his legs as his monitors informed him that the Autobot was too busy communicating with his followers. Really, he was better off kidnapping Optimus and locking him up in a cave somewhere, far far away from prying optics. With luck Megatron would literally combust from frustration at Prime's disappearance. And then the war would end and everyone would return to Cybertron. Quick solution, no problems. Soundwave sighed, helm lolling from side to side as if mounted on a single spring; his cpu chip was positively> throbbing. That ruptured coolant line must have been more severe than he thought...if that last, very asinine scenario he just envisioned was any indication.
Optimus more or less ignored Soundwave's doings and went about his business. He opened his interface panel and bent down to cup a handful of water to wash out the Soundwave's transmetal fluid. Prime pressed two fingers in his valve, scooping out all of the fluid and splashed more water around his entrance. He took his cloth and dampened it so he could thread it up farther, gently rubbing. "You came quick," he commented.
The orange optics darkened at Optimus' callous remark. "Optimus Prime: truly a wonderful fuck," Soundwave purred knowingly and rather spitefully as he watched the other clean himself out in river, hunger licking faintly at his circuits.
Optimus looked up. "But you're> so much better... It's too bad this had to happen during war… Otherwise I would've taken you back and made you my pet…" he growled and returned to his task.
Soundwave fixed Optimus a scrutinising look at that. "Optimus Prime: perhaps is more alike to Megatron than he believes," he sneered.
"Haha. No matter what preconceived ideas Decepticons seem to have about Autobots, being nice and forgiving doesn't win wars. We're as cold and hard as the rest, though we do have> some standards," Optimus replied.
"Your human allies would be> heartbroken at your deceit."
Optimus looked up again, his optics intense. "We never promised> anything to the humans. They, along with any species capable of thought, know what war is. There's no good and bad, nothing is set straight. Use us as an example," here Optimus gave a bitter laugh, "But still, Autobots have ideals, and we try to go by them. I have a strong belief in democracy and our unwavering dedication. I don't think the Decepticons know> anything about true loyalty."
"Such polished,> naive words for one who never knew the true meaning of oppression," Soundwave mocked, some static seeping in as he spoke. "Decepticons: never hid their true intentions.> That is our loyalty. Autobots: layered in bigotry. Have you forgotten why this war began? Or do you still believe in that imagined utopia of yours, where everything is equal except those who toil below to keep the energon flowing."
"I can't help everyone out of poverty. It's unavoidable. I don't disregard it, but there's nothing I can do until we find a new reserve of energon on some planet. Then, maybe, it can be done. Don't forget war is profitable. You wouldn't believe some of the things upper class elitists will do. I was> never an upper class mech. I was a labourer until I was found by the Matrix. That's what has spiralled into so much support from the middle class. Someone they can trust," Optimus said with an air of finality, not bothering to look up as he washed himself.
For a long moment, Soundwave stared hard at his new bondmate. "No matter what you personally believe, your efforts would have been wasted. Even if the Autobots prevail, everything will revert back to how it once was. Your Council –" He spat the word out like rancid energon, "-will see to that."
"I have no control over the Council, only Alpha Trion does."
"Then why are you fighting if not for the prospect of change? To defend the rights of all those sentient? Illogical!"
Optimus vented out a deep sigh. He made optic contact with Soundwave again, trying to get his expression across. "I would have> thought your chance encounter with the Matrix would have cured you of> that question. If you would actually meet the Council and Alpha Trion and Vector Sigma you would know differently. It's not easy to defy a piece of ancient Quintesson technology, they> made us."
Soundwave's optics brightened at the revelation. It was surprising, though not in the sense that Primus indeed did not exist as he had forsaken the idea of a god or any form of omnipotent being a very long time, but rather how> significant the Quintessons were. It was a word he had come across often in his research, one obscured with mystery. "Then you can understand that we should no longer be constrained by the belief of a god and a predestined fate for his supposed children. I have risen from scavenging rusted out corpses for spare parts to who I am now because I believed that if one wants to change their future, then one must fight for it. Even your Council cannot be immune to revolution."
"Don't get me wrong, Primus> does exist. But he is not a god. Just very old and wise. You'll get to meet Vector Sigma someday and he> is godly."
"Of course. Godly only to those he favours. Do not expect an> Empty to share your sentiments anytime soon."
Soundwave doubted Optimus' words, but the chance to meet that infernal Council was something that he would not refuse...just to entertain the notion of destroying them all. At that moment his own communications systems chose to reactivate. A component in his transmitter shorted out spectacularly in the process, several sparks shooting out from the side of his helm where the receiver was located. Soundwave grunted and quickly rerouted the power towards a back-up, his features contorting with discomfort.
"Bossman! Bossman!" Frenzy's brass voice filtered out from one of his external speakers. "Where the pit are ya? Yer comms were out."
"Soundwave: functional. What is it?" he managed to answer in his usual laconic manner.
"Yeah well. Jus' reminding ya that ya have a shift in three cycles."
"Message: received. Encountered minor malfunction. Will return shortly."
Minor malfunction indeed.
The Cassetticon's tone was slightly accusatory. "Right, whatever ya say Boss. Frenzy out."
The radio connection ended and Soundwave spared the Autobot a glance, one optic brightening while the other dimmed. "I will humour you for now," he said, all seriousness now. The sky began to lighten, a line of blue blending in from the backdrop of the mountains and slowly creeping into the black expanse above them. "I will not jeopardise my symbiotes in any way. But know this. The Matrix was> very specific in what it wanted."
"Obviously," Optimus sharply replied.
Prime snapped his panel closed again. Behind his mask, his lips curled back into distaste at the light purple colour of Soundwave's transfluid, and he shoved the rag into his subspace. He turned and rested one pede on the top of the bank, while the other he kept in the water, resting his gyros.
"But while the Matrix may think you're perfect for me, I could care less. The moment I was forced to be Prime, it has given be nothing but problems. I do not want you, I don't want to be near you, and I certainly don't want to mate with you. I've already picked a successor."
Optimus raised a hand and picked out a clump of dirt that had been lodged into a crevice on his helm.
"Who knows, maybe you can get a chance to kill me again," Prime said, and shifted his stance, his hips whining and squeaking as he crested the top of the little embankment. "I don't give a damn about you or your symbiotes, and I'd better not ever see those little wretched things crawling around my base. You don't exist." He stood straight up, posture proud, attitude as cool and frosty as ever.
But the feel of Soundwave inside of his spark...made him> warm.
The Decepticon was bristling, though he did not show it. To be treated as something so meaningless and unwanted. He was always valued, whether it was his fearsome abilities or his self-sufficiency. Even Megatron with his blatant disregard of his own army never failed to seek his third-in-command's advice at times. Soundwave's spark on the other hand, was sinking in its chamber and constricting in on itself from the hateful words, much like a whining creature that's just been kicked.
"I am not a pleasure-model you can just cast away when you are done! Autobot: not the only one burdened by this development!" Soundwave snapped heatedly, his full lips thinned back and stretched over his denta in an expression of anger. His voice dropped into a low, venomous whisper. "Or does it irk you that the Matrix chose a low-caste> Empty over the high commander Ultra Magnus."
Optimus' vents turned up a notch higher and he scowled. "Don't...> you dare bring Ultra Magnus into this." He could not refute the statement of Ultra Magnus. No, the Matrix had not allowed them to be together, apparently. It hurt to think about.
Soundwave's mouth parted, as if he was going to spit something else out before he abruptly clamped it shut. The vivid, orange optics softened and his spinal struts slumped against his waist components with defeat, internal systems screaming at him that exciting himself like that was not helping his stuttering fuel pump at all. He was so weary and it was the only emotion he could afford to settle on at the moment. In a purely defensive gesture, the visor and mouthplate slid over his features with an audible> snap, shielding them away from the Autobot's gaze.
"I must return to base soon," he finally said, exhaustion clear even through the synthesiser.
"I will return too," Optimus replied. The trek back would drain him of his energon reserves, and not to mention the inevitable meeting with his personal surgeon.
Soundwave's helm canted towards the left, as if pondering something. "Also, Rumble and Ravage are in the vicinity."
"I know."
Sure enough, two silhouettes detached themselves from the shadows and murky outlines of the thick tree trunks. Ravage padded silently over to Soundwave with just a quiet rustle of weeds while the other Cassette didn't seem to care whether he was stealthy or not.
"Hold yer fire," Rumble sneered, as he strode past Optimus without even looking at him. "We won't attack."
"Ravage: disobeyed direct order," the telepath said sternly in an attempt to gain some semblance of normality.
Ravage made a mechanical, grating noise and while Soundwave was perfectly capable of translating it, Rumble just huffed and placed his hands on his pelvic unit, answering for the other Cassette regardless.
"Ravage got worried. Ya were pretty much radio silent for ages."
As if to prove a point, Ravage slinked around Soundwave. He circled him once and then satisfied that his superior was not suffering from any serious, physical damage, placed his aft flat on the ground right next to him. Guarding him. Soundwave must have been portraying a bad image to his Cassettes, kneeling there and appearing as if he had just surrendered to the Autobot leader. No doubt they could pick up just how miserable he was.
"I am functional," Soundwave repeated, not finding the energy to be annoyed at his Cassettes' behaviour.
Rumble's mouth pinched in on itself, working from side to side and he looked beyond displeased. This time he did acknowledge Optimus' existence. And after a long moment of eyeing up the enemy from the corner of his visor, Rumble ignored him again by turning straight back to Soundwave, probably deciding that insulting the Autobot wasn't worth it. He stood in front of the kneeling mech and tilted his helm back, just being able to reach the top of golden lining.
"I'm not sure what sorta interfacing kinks ya two are into but seriously Boss, ya look like fragging slag," he stated without ceremony.
And that was precisely why Optimus hated symbiotes> so much. Fucking> rude and annoying. He laughed dryly at Rumble's words, commenting, "That's no way to speak to someone who's newly bonded."
Something in his relationship with Soundwave would have to give… something had to happen. They couldn't keep themselves on such a tenuous edge. The only outcome he could see was Soundwave defecting. Optimus sent a few persuasive images over the bond, trying to coerce him. Soundwave would have good food for both he and his symbiotes in the Autobots. They would no longer go hungry. No more backstabbing. Soundwave's cassettes would be able to run around and not have to worry about other mechs. Then, he added in thoughts for Soundwave, that he would care and please him, even if he wasn't… in love with him and didn't want to be bonded to him. It was his last ditch effort.
Rumble's helm snapped up fast, staring at Optimus with a bright, red visor and a mouth that gaped open inelegantly. "Wha...? Bonded? I mean I thought I felt something but..." He paused as the idea sank in before he shifted his wild gaze towards Soundwave, voice raising an octave with panic. "Ya bonded? With him?" He grasped Soundwave's upper torso, smaller pedes scrambling onto the larger mech's legs and hoisted himself up so he could directly scream into the masked faceplates. "Are ya insane? Ya just can't go and bond with> Prime just because ya think ya l-"
"Rumble. Enough. Matrix: intervened." Soundwave's tone was that of finality, one which Rumble obeyed immediately. Both his Cassettes were now staring at him confused and Soundwave found himself clarifying further. "The Matrix chose me as a suitable mate. It forced us to bond."
Rumble's confusion morphed into horror and he looked ready to protest even more, and quite rightly so, but one sharp glare from Soundwave made him fall silent. For now. He slid down from Soundwave's chassis with a muted squeal of metal and asked the one question Soundwave was dreading.
"So what happens now?"
Soundwave honestly didn't know.
It was bad enough that he was currently being charmed by the Autobot's declarations of stability, for both him and his Cassetticons.> Yes, yes, his traitorous spark was saying,> defect and stay with your mate! However, his still functioning logic centre was disagreeing completely. Soundwave was no fool; he had not survived for this long, blackmailing and murdering his way through the squalors of Cybertronian society to become an indispensible high Decepticon officer only to ruin it by falling for sweet, false promises. After all, it wasn't necessary for one's bondmate to be up and about in order to ensure the other's survival. The Council can simply force Soundwave's chassis into permanent stasis - the bond would weaken even faster in that state - and imprison his Cassettes.
How quickly you change your tune about me now that you've realised how important it is to keep each other close, he hissed scathingly directly into Optimus' processor as he sent his own misgivings to the other mech. He used his telepathy to do so; a subtle but unmistakeably insulting gesture. As a Cassette guardian who already possessed a multiple of links, he viewed spark bonds as symbols of utmost trust, one demonstrated over and over with his symbiotes. He would not allow his view to be tainted by this newest farce.
Optimus had no idea how to project thoughts from his mind, or if he even> could. "It would be mutually beneficial. I have the means, and you need them."
Soundwave emitted a static-filled noise that sounded suspiciously like a derisive snort. He pointedly avoided looking at Optimus and answered Rumble's question instead. "Nothing," he said after a long moment.
"But..."
"We must return to base. Lord Megatron: most displeased if I do not report soon," Soundwave intoned.
Soundwave was barely able to push his body up into a standing position, actually placing a hand onto Rumble's shoulder to steady himself who, in turn, looked positively horrified at his Boss' moment of weakness. Even Ravage bolted up and pressed his flanks against the back of Soundwave's legs in silent support. It made him inwardly wince. Soundwave calculated that he'd actually have to walk the entire way if he was to conserve enough energy to activate his anti-gravs and fly over the ocean to reach the Nemesis. He'd have to walk fast too if he wanted to make it in time. And as if magnetised, he couldn't stop himself from glancing at the Autobot and adding, "I will make a decision."
"Hopefully it's the> right one," Optimus replied.
Then, Optimus watched Soundwave leave.
Eventually, when the buzzing presence in his spark alleviated, he knew that Soundwave was gone, along with his Cassettes. It was nearly morning, dawn, and the eastern horizon was tingled with purple and pink, soon to give way to a normal medium-sized star in one of the most extraordinary galaxies Prime had ever been in. To think he'd bonded on a foreign planet that was so far from Cybertron, and so utterly different. But…perhaps besides the differences in form and structure, humans and Cybertronians weren't that different.
Both species could feel, think, and have love. They could associate themselves through many different ways.
But in the words of Sentinel Prime, a mech Optimus had looked up to with reverent respect before he'd been murdered by Megatron; "Take responsibility for the things you frag up, there's nothing you can do but become a better mech."
With a sigh, Optimus brushed his fingers over the cracked glass of his windshield, wondering what precisely Ratchet would do to him. There was a delicate balance between his cabinet, as each were quite competitive with each other. Optimus debated if he could even manage to get back in the headquarters without everyone seeing him. But Ratchet had already called, and he was probably more overdue from his musings. His tanks clenched again, worry taking him.
Slowly he transformed, his body carefully folding together, and only a few pieces of damaged plating caught on each other. But thankfully they gave way before the pain became unbearable. Optimus drove down the dirt path, following his footsteps from the night before, and eventually picked his way back out onto the rest area. He attracted a few looks, but Optimus couldn't be bothered to pay any mind. He didn't look like an Autobot, and was sure that his Autobot symbol had sustained some damage or was completely scratched off like the rest of his paint. It was definitely something that would need to be repainted right away.
A couple of hours later, Optimus had neatly managed to wheedle his way back into the Ark. He'd used the back entrance, the one Soundwave used whenever he visited. When he was on the inside of the shower racks he turned and locked the door securely, making sure that no one would be able to enter through it. The code Soundwave was used to punching in would no longer be there. With a last disparaging look at the entrance, one he thought should've never been built, he turned and flicked the water on, grateful at last to be in his own quarters. It seemed like ages.
The spray washed over him in waves, scalding hot, rinsing off the mud, grass, and mechblood. It ran slowly off of his frame, running through the gaps of his plating to pool on the floor, slowly circling around the drain hole until it disappeared. He directed the spray at any of the open wounds he had, clearing them out of dirt and congealed blood. Soon he found his vision wavering, going fuzzy towards the edges, and realized he was> famished. Optimus could feel the Matrix draining heavily on his spark energy, recharging itself. For a moment his spark raced, because he had no idea how much energy was needed to sustain the device. It had never occurred to him, but his energy consumption was much higher than a mech of the same size. His thoughts instantly drifted to Ultra Magnus, and he fell to his knees at the crippling hurt that lashed through his systems. Optimus felt his throat burn with repressed sobs, the cables in his neck straining as he brought a hand to his face, covering his optics. With his mask off he hunched his shoulders over, his form heaving as he let loose a few desperate cries. Everything burned. Burned with shame, humiliation, fear, and a love that was now so incredibly lost. He'd intended to spend his life with Dion, the mech whom he'd loved for as long as he could remember. They'd been best friends and occasional lovers far back before when Optimus had been known as Orion Pax. And now... it was nothing. It could be nothing.
After a few more moments of hopeless sobbing, Optimus brought himself to the present. He lifted his face up, his lips quivering under the hot spray of the water. Optimus stood slowly and shut the water off, then turned and opened the door to his room. Thankfully it was empty, but as he looked around, he could tell it had been disturbed. Probably by Prowl or Ratchet, and he most bet mostly on the last.
His thermal blanket had been nicely folded, and not a spot was out of place. All of the energon cups on the counters had been washed clean and stacked away, and there wasn't a spot or spill anywhere. With a soft sigh, one that hurt quite a bit, he limped quietly through his room, coming to the door where his office was located on the other side. He pressed his helm to the door, listening carefully to make sure no one was on the other side, then typed the code in and stepped through.
He was greeted by a supine black and white form sitting in his office chair, looking quite content.
"Optimus Prime it's good of you to finally show up," Prowl said shortly, his hands folded neatly in his lap. His calculating optics looked up and down Prime's form, taking in the various wounds and dents. "Looks like you certainly got into a fight, didn't you?" The tone was mocking of course, and Optimus had no notions of pretending Prowl didn't know what had happened.
"Yes," Optimus said sourly, his tone bitter. "I had a lot of fucking fun," he said scathingly. He ambled by the mech, using the chairs for balance.
"For Primus sake let me help you before you fall into a heap on the fucking floor," Prowl spat, stepping forward to seize Optimus's arm, where he slung it around his shoulders. Being shorter and smaller, he was the perfect brace. "After you are finished with Ratchet I expect a full debrief."
"Yes Prowl," Optimus snapped, gritting his denta. "I know how to do my own job."
Prowl made a derisive noise at that, but Optimus decided not to probe any further into the action. They went through the door into the hallway, where Jazz's helm swivelled towards them. He pushed off of the wall, his arms crossed underneath the prominent bulge of his chassis. He obviously hadn't wanted to wait inside Prime's office with Prowl. For once, Optimus didn't blame him.
"Make sure the halls to the medbay are empty," Prowl snapped, waving his hand at the saboteur. A trickle of mechblood from Optimus's wrists was slowly inching down the pristine white of his chassis.
"Yessir," Jazz said tersely, his visor pointed down to catch the light of the hallway. All three of them knew he wouldn't have obeyed if Prime had not been present. He trotted off in front of them, turning the corner, calling out a few mechs' names that were loitering in the halls, threatening to give them something to do.
They were soon at the doublewide doors, which swooshed open to admit Optimus and the two others. Ratchet was there, smiling unpleasantly. He pointed to one of the private rooms off to the side, making motions with his hands. There were still a couple of hurt mechs in the medbay, and obviously> they could not be made to move. At the doorway Prowl let go, disentangling himself and promptly turned on his pedes to leave. Jazz stared hard into Prime's optics a while longer, his visor icy blue. Optimus could only look back wordlessly.
"Come now, we don't have all day," Ratchet said, prodding one servo into Prime's backstrut. Optimus stepped into the room with Ratchet right behind him, the door locking. The soft hum of the lights seemed very loud then, and the medic turned his back, shifting through a pile of tools that were laid neatly on a medical tray.
"Well? Sit up on the table," Ratchet said, turning his helm slightly to glare at the larger mech. Optimus did so without comment, easing himself up carefully on the table. Everything hurt, and he was growing tired and very low on energon.
"I'm-" he started, but Ratchet cut him off.
"Don't bother to apologize," the medic said coldly.
"I wasn't going to." Optimus laid down on the table, shifting to his beaten body so that he could rest. With a relieved sigh, Optimus brought his hands out in front of him, staring at his mutilated wrists, dirt clods and grass poking out of his armour in ways that jarred it even worse. He rotated his joints, wincing at the screeches as the dirt ground compacted together.
"What the fuck did you do with him?" Ratchet suddenly asked, turning on his pedes. He held a needle in his hands, a wet rag in the other.
Optimus gave a pained, long suffering sigh. "I don't think this is the best time to discuss this Ratchet."
Ratchet's well cared for plating gleamed under the light that was mounted to the ceiling. It really was bright, and Optimus shielded his optics, the blue colour dimming to compensate. A sharp gasp of air parted from his lips, and Optimus froze as he felt a cold, painful intrusion to his neck. He carefully looked, but could not see what type of chemical Ratchet was going to inject. He could only see one large red coloured thumb on the end of a plunger.
"This burns going in you know. Pretty badly. It's only supposed to be injected into a mech's tank. That's why the needle is so big. But I'm sure you'll manage." Optimus saw his thumb press down a little, and the result was instantaneous. The liquid pain surged from his neck, quickly spreading to his shoulder and right arm. Optimus could only gasp, his spinal struts arching off the berth so hard that it was painful. His hands gripped the side tightly, and a short squeal tore from his throat. He convulsed, his torso turning one way while his hips went the other, both pulling against each other.
"Stop!" he said, trying not to move, but it was very hard. He could tell his aggravated movement was not helping to make the situation any better, and the warmth of his mechblood disappeared into his neck. "Ratchet!" he said again, real fear starting to grip deep in his spark. His vents were running and coolant was pumping through him, trying to expel all of the heat that had built up within him in such a short period of time. He resurfaced from the pain momentarily before he was sunk back into it again, and he thrashed around more, and he knew Ratchet was doing it just to sink the picture in because he could.
After several minutes, Optimus was allowed a breather, and he had stopped moving, only letting the heat be expelled from him. He was too tired to move. But despite the painful injection getting Ratchet's point across, he felt the rest of his body numbing itself, turning him over into a peaceful bliss with limited feeling.
"Stupid fool! You bring shame to the Autobots! You act like a sparkling with his spike where it shouldn't be! What happened!" Ratchet shouted.
When Optimus didn't answer right away, he moved his thumb on the plunger and Optimus jerked, his optics wide and fearful. "I went off like I said I was," Optimus said quickly, and flinched again when Ratchet's face tightened. It was revolting him to the core how much power the medic currently had over him. And he knew that perhaps it was a long overdue change.
"And?" Ratchet insisted, his tone harsh.
"I was there, and Soundwave showed. He had been following us, and I wasn't aware of it." Here, Optimus paused, licking his lips as he rolled the thoughts over in his processors. "We decided to ah…mate to pass the time. I'd come by the decision that I wasn't going to continue the tryst any further. Soundwave would not have it."
Ratchet released a breath, and it was then that Optimus noticed he'd been working on repairs. Prime had been too caught up. He was feeling Soundwave all over again. Seeing him. Touching his body and working over his curves. Optimus' spark flared painfully in his chassis, and Ratchet's fingers stilled over his windshield.
"It got violent and he subdued me with his power. I was…completely unprepared. But the Matrix…had other ideas."
Ratchet's blue optics brightened in interest at that small fact in the tale. "It…was aroused by Soundwave?" he asked curiously, several expressions flitting across his face.
"Yes. It encapsulated his mind, his spark, and searched through him. Then it mated us. We are partners now."
The small tool Ratchet had been using to pull out clods of dirt from Prime's protoform fell with a clatter to the floor. But besides that, he was surprisingly calm. "A Decepticon and an Autobot mated together," he said quietly to himself, then laughed sharply. "Who am I to question the matrix's wisdom?"
Optimus relaxed into the berth below, fighting to stay awake. "Not I," he answered.
"Where is he?" Ratchet asked, his hands busy. "If you haven't mated for the right amount of time, you are endangering the connection. You should both be allowed at least a week to mate properly so the connection solidifies. Otherwise it will be a lingering pain and may do damage to your spark."
Optimus sighed, "We had to part. Soundwave still has responsibilities to the Decepticons regardless. I'm sure something will give soon."
"And what will happen?"
"He'll come here and stay under the Autobots' protection until he can leave."
Ratchet shook his head in irritation. "And how will he get here? And when? And what are you going to tell the others?"
But Optimus Prime's optics and flickered off, and as Ratchet listened carefully, he could hear his systems cycling down into a deep stasis. It would shut off most of his programs and unnecessary functions besides to bring energon to his crucial systems and spark. It would take a long time for him to cycle up.
"What a fucking mess you've made."
Ratchet shook his head to himself and turned to the side of the room so he could power up the monitoring equipment. Above him, the ventilation hummed and behind the fine mesh that lined the opening duct, a shiny human eye widened before disappearing. Spike closed his eyes and dragged the heels of his hands down his face, wishing he never said yes to Rewind and Eject's little hide n' seek game. If only they didn't tell him that his contribution would help them pinpoint how Soundwave's brats got in and out. If only he had a reason to say no. If only he had homework, if only he was out driving with Bumblebee, if only he had a date with Carly…
It was quiet below him, though Spike could hear the faint clinking of Ratchet working filter up through the vent's opening and the elevated beating of his own heart. He wondered if the medic could pick up his presence with those finely honed sensors of his and firmly decided he did not want to be caught eavesdropping on what had to be the most disturbing conversation he had ever had the misfortune of hearing.
Spike carefully pulled away from the wall he had his back plastered against. He squeezed his eyes shut, hating how the large metal pipe that surrounded him suddenly felt too warm and constricting for comfort. A cold trickle of sweat streamed down his face, making him shiver and the teenager rubbed his face on his shoulder to get rid of it. He had to get out there fast. Knees forward, palms flat on the surface and ignore the dust sticking to your clammy skin, he thought resolutely to himself. With paranoia hanging heavily over him, he managed to cautiously crawl down the dark ventilation shaft as quietly as possible and when he passed the riveted joints, he prayed to whatever deity above that if there> was going to be a loud creak because of his weight then it would be far away from the med bay as possible.
His mind spun.
It was funny how naive he was about the Autobots and really, the Transformers in general. He realised it now that his limited> human knowledge of how robots should act had completely clouded his perception. At first, it was all black and white for him; cool alien giant robots that transformed into cool machines arrive from space protecting humanity against the evil robots who wanted to rule the universe. Just like in the comics. The classic notions of good and evil. The Autobots, smiling and ever friendly; the noble and selfless Optimus Prime, the fun-loving Jazz and the stern Prowl and the gruff veteran Ironhide that sounded a lot like his grandpa.
But then, the more time Spike spent with them he began to notice two sides in the Autobot demeanour; how they acted around the humans and how they acted around each other. Optimus sometimes was a real jerk, Jazz and Prowl hated each other's metal guts and whenever Ironhide would tell his old war stories about shooting at whatever Decepticon that was unlucky to get in his sights, he'd get a gleeful tone in his voice that was just damn downright creepy.
And Ratchet...Ratchet's cold indifference as Optimus writhed in pain frankly terrified him there.
In reality, there was no black and white. It was all various shades of grey. They weren't robots, they were mechs and what's more, they were Cybertronians. Another species that remarkably, shared many traits with humans despite the obvious differences. They weren't organic but they still had their faults, their own set of prejudices and culture. He remembered asking red-faced one day after meeting the femmes if Cybertronians 'did it' and Bumblebee had laughed it off, vaguely stating that Cybertronians had no gender but frame types. Back then Spike thought it meant that they were genderless robots with no sexual urges, no genitalia and therefore, no need for sex. Fresh off the assembly line. But really, he had seen and heard bits and pieces that suggested otherwise and Spike had a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach that they, like most other sentient species, felt physical lust towards each other. And there were quite a few times that Spike caught Sunstreaker give Sideswipe a heated look or would touch him in a way that a man would act towards a woman he was attracted to. And it wasn't just limited to those two. Spike commented on it to Bumblebee once, and again his friend just laughed it off. Now that he thought about it, Bumblebee laughed off a lot of things Spike asked about.
And if they did have sex with each other then Spike couldn't even possible imagine how. Did that mean everyone on the> Ark was gay? A brief image of sockets and plugs flashed in his mind. What a train wreck of a thought.
Spike stopped and let his head hang for a moment, cursing Optimus and Ratchet for deciding to use English. Shit! What was he supposed to do now with all that information weighing down on his shoulders? There was no way he could confide in Bumblebee and no way in hell he could keep it bottled up inside him. It would eat at him constantly. While he didn't understand exactly some of the terms the two mechs used, he was smart enough to understand that Optimus had been having some sort of illicit...weird affair with the enemy and now they were...mated because of this 'Matrix' thing. And they had to be together. Just like an arranged marriage that neither the groom nor the other... groom wanted. What he> did grasp was how severe the situation was and how little he knew these ancient aliens.
Spike really didn't like Soundwave at all and he absolutely detested the Casseticons.
The boy trudged on. When he literally saw the light at the end of the tunnel, he reached what he hoped would be his exit. He didn't know what that particular vent opening led to and knowing his luck, it was probably someone's private quarters but he didn't care just as long as he got out. Spike squinted through the grill covering and relief flooded him at the empty office he was greeted with.
Then he saw that the grill had no handles, no clips, or screws to undo.
Spike's face fell before twisting into a frustrated grimace. How was he supposed to get out now?
He was just debating whether he could crawl back the way he came and hopefully find the rec room instead when the tell-tale sound of automatic doors swished open. Spike perked up and placed his hands on the grill, twisting about to see who had entered. Sure enough, a recognisable black and white plated mech walked past him; he had half-hoped it was Jazz because Prowl's constant staid expression was really off-putting at times, especially when he pulled that 'I highly disapprove' look of his.
"Prowl!" Spike whispered loudly, rapping his fingers on the metal obstruction in front of him.
Prowl jerked, two datapads falling out of his grasp where they clattered loudly onto the polished metal flooring. He looked up at the direction of the noise and relaxed visibly once he spotted the tiny little human. For a moment, he'd thought it was one of the Cassettes. The mech stepped closer, his expression cross. "You should not be playing around in the ventilation shafts. They may take you to places where mechs shoot first and then look."
The black and white mech reached up and grasped the metal slats of the covering, and with a gentle tug, it snapped off. Prowl placed it on his desk behind him, then reached out with his hand for the young teenager. "Come on now," he said, impatience glossing his tone.
And this was precisely why Spike hoped for Jazz instead. Prowl always used a sort of tone that made him feel as if he was a five year old still wetting the bed. The human braced a hand on the edge of the shaft and hopped onto the giant, white hand.
"I was only playing a game with Eject and Rewind," Spike said with a small pout. He brushed at his clothes and fluffed out the dust from his hair. "You know...to see whether there were any openings that Soundwave's Cassettes used. Red Alert is> always complaining about it."
"I am well aware, but it isn't your concern and it's not safe. You will cease the activity or I'll be forced to keep you out of the base. It wouldn't be good if the media heard about a young human boy dying in Autobot headquarters," Prowl lectured.
He took a few steps backwards and deposited the young man on his desk, then bent over to retrieve the fallen datapads. He re-sorted them and placed them alongside the other ones on his desk, then took a seat, paying no mind to the human near him. He flicked a datapad on and began to read.
Spike blinked and wondered whether Prowl had actually genuinely forgotten about him or was deliberately ignoring his presence...somehow, Spike would bet it was the latter. He stood there for a long moment, staring at the unfamiliar glyphs running down the datapad. A minute passed and still no acknowledgement and the teenager entertained himself with guesses on what Prowl's super-secret personality trait would be. Or maybe he was just an asshole to everyone all year round.
"Am I...being punished?" Spike finally asked tentatively, breaking the silence. He flopped down onto the desk's smooth surface and crossed his legs. If Prowl wanted to be a dick then Spike wasn't going to make it easy for him. He smiled. "Is Bumblebee out on patrol?"
"No, I am waiting for your caretaker. You can go home with him, since most of the Autobots will be busy all of today. There are a few top secret assignments being carried out, which is where Bumblebee is," Prowl answered all in one. He rested his hand on top of his datapad, his blue optics concentrating on the small human. "Please be more careful in the future. Optimus Prime would not be happy knowing you're wandering around the> Ark in such a way."
Spike flinched ever so slightly - possibly from the combination of Prowl's sharp optics and the mention of Optimus' name, especially when the image of him battered and> vulnerable flittered through his mind. There it was, that curiosity that began to itch at him. "Can I ask you a question?"
Prowl hesitated for a moment, wondering what the small human could possibly ask. "Yes. I will try to answer to the best of my ability," the commander said, drumming his fingers softly against the table. It was going to be a long day, especially with Optimus in the condition that he was.
"It's just that..." Spike trailed off and sighed, pausing to frown at the deplorable condition of his trousers before his own eyes looked back up at the bigger faceplates of the other mech. "What exactly is a Matrix?"
Prowl paused at the question, staring hard at the human. "TheMatrix is a very symbolic device to the Autobots. The leader of the Autobots, Optimus, keeps it with him at all times, and draws upon its wisdom and power to help him lead. Only the supreme commander may ever have it, and the Matrix often may choose a successor if there is no next of kin, which there usually isn't. Where did you hear of the term?" Prowl asked, flicking his datapad off to show that he meant business.
"Oh uhm..."
Spike quickly cast his eyes down, avoiding Prowl's penetrating stare and thought about what he knew so far of the Matrix. He came to the conclusion that the Matrix sounded like a combination of the proverbial burning bush, an amulet of +20 strength, and a Las Vegas marriage certificate.
"I heard it being mentioned here and there I guess," he finally answered, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "So it's something that gets passed down eh. Kinda like a king passing down his crown?" Spike then frowned, because sons were usually first in line to thrones and it didn't exactly seem plausible that Optimus would have...children. "Who's uh...Optimus' next of kin?" he carefully ventured.
Prowl drew his helm down closer to the human, gazing at him with one large blue optic. A buzzing sound started from somewhere on his desk, but he ignored it. The Matrix wasn't often a topic of discussion because most Autobots did not know the full extent of its power, but he supposed that someone could have mentioned it in passing. Humans were far too curious for their own good. "Optimus has not procured any next of kin. In order to do so, he would need to be spark bonded to another."
The teenage boy thought for a moment, trying to link the alien terms according to his limited understanding. "So...er...let me get this straight. The Matrix arranges Optimus to...marry, like> mates, with someone and he can have kids with that someone...? Like -" Spike's face scrunched up at the mental image. "- they construct a new mech and Vector Sigma breathes life to them?"
"No. The carrier of the two mates would carry the new mech inside their chest until the time is right. Though there are several ways of bringing a mech to life, and Vector Sigma is one, it would not be that pair's own," Prowl said, realizing he was failing miserably at explaining sparklings, if the boy's confused face was anything to go by. "To put it shortly, the pair makes their own sparkling -> baby - and no one else helps," Prowl muttered, leaning back in his chair. "But Prime is not bonded yet, so talking about it does not matter. The Matrix is known to find the mate, but I'm not sure if it always does so."
"Even if it's a 'Con?" Spike blurted out before he could stop himself.
Prowl kept his expression carefully neutral, but he felt a sudden bubble of realization and fear deep in his spark. If the day's events were cues to what was to come, then it was best to prepare for the worst. "I could only hope not," Prowl said, his voice icy cold as he finally dismissed the pager on his desk.
Spike refrained from correcting him, just for that childish urge to prove Prowl wrong and make him crash. "And if it does happen, then what?" he asked carefully.
"Then it happens. Prime's bondmate would outrank me, so there is nothing I can do about it," Prowl replied lightly. "Then after that we all can endure the moral breakdown of the Autobots," he added.
The itching to just burst was catching up to him and Spike rubbed his eyes with the tip of his fingers, wondering how bad things were going to be when the shit finally hit the fan. Soundwave was like the most loyal of loyal when it came to Megatron. "And if the Matrix decided that it liked uh, I dunno... Skywarp or something and married him off to Optimus...there's no way they'd be able to get a divorce or live separately?"
"The bond is telepathic through emotions and mates can even share thoughts between each other. Once you are bonded, you are bonded for life. Mates cannot be apart for long, because it is painful," Prowl ground out, becoming thoroughly annoyed with the incessant questioning. "I would advise you bring up the conclusion of your questions, for I have work to do."
"Yeah..." Spike was too horrified to feel irritated at Prowl's dismissive behaviour. Suddenly uncomfortable with what Prowl told him and what he privately knew, he clapped his hands once and pointedly looked at the door. "So who's coming to get me?"
"Daniel is coming to retrieve you. After all of this questioning, you won't even ask the final one?" Prowl asked curiously. His fingers played over the button to access the officer's communication channel - Ratchet needed to answer some questions.
Spike felt his body stiffen. Prowl must have caught him out. He smiled faintly and forced himself to look slightly curious. "Well you got a lot of work to do so I didn't want to push it with the twenty questions."
Prowl's optics narrowed and he clenched his lips together, wishing someone else could talk to the human. He knew he wasn't the best at it. "I'm sure one more won't hurt, but make it quick, Ratchet is currently making his way here to deliver a report."
It was there that Spike was sure he gave himself away - the slight, fearful widening of his eyes and the drain of colour from his cheeks when he heard Ratchet's name and the determined way Prowl was trying to draw him out, much like a confession. He was just about ready to stall for time until Daniel's arrival but now he just wanted to> leave. The rubber soles of his shoes squeaked obnoxiously loud on the desk as he hoisted himself hastily to his feet. "I really...can't think of anything at the moment. I'll just..." His voice cracked. "...wait outside then."
Prowl's stoic face finally broke into a small smile and he slid his chair back, motioning with his hands. "Be my guest," he replied. There was no way the human would be able to get down on his own. "This all would go much faster if you told me what's the problem is, rather than avoiding it. Unless perhaps you're feeling ill? I'm sure Ratchet wouldn't mind checking you over," he said, using some of the dirtier tactics to get the human to confess.
"You're a fucking dick some days, you know that Prowl?" Spike hissed, finally snapping. It wasn't as if Prowl wasn't going to find out anyway. "I know I shouldn't have and believe me, I> wish I hadn't but I overheard Ratchet and Optimus talking just a while ago. I'm sure you can take a wild guess what the conversation was about."
"I'd rather know for sure than guess," Prowl replied, his elegant face scrunched up into something far less pleasant than normal. "But whatever it is, it's not good. Jazz," the saboteur's name was said with contempt, "and myself were already made to escort Prime from his personal quarters. But that information is secret. Leaking that would not be good, Spike. You shouldn't repeat things except to either myself or to Prime."
"Trust me. I don't even want to repeat this to anyone else." Spike sighed and folded his arms across his chest. He was a little calmer now that he didn't have to hide anything. He chewed onto his bottom lip for a couple of seconds before glancing back at Prowl. "But yeah. It's not good. Imagine like, worst case scenario. Ever. Optimus having an affair with a Decepticon and the Matrix going haywire. You wanna know who we're talking about or you already know?"
Prowl's processor spun with all of the information, and it wasn't long before he knew exactly who Spike was talking about. He cursed in Cybertronian, the noise sounding like a long squeal of metal rubbing together mixed with a few clicks. The mech slammed his hand flat against his desk, knocking a few datapads off and causing Spike to fall back down to his sitting position.
"That> fool," Prowl hissed. "Bonding with a Decepticon is bad, but with a telepath? It'll make this even harder to correct."
Behind them, a knock sounded on the door. Ratchet.
Spike whirled around, staring at the door. He pulled himself to a kneeling position and balled his hands into fists. His voice was small and plaintive. "Can I go now?"
"Yes," Prowl replied, picking up the small human in his hand as gently as he could. He strode quickly to the door, where it swished open, revealing the red and white plating of Ratchet. "Go inside," Prowl said to the medic, and shouldered past him. He bent down and set the boy on the floor. "Don't tell anyone. Not even Bumblebee." With a whoosh of air, Prowl spun around and marched back into his office after Ratchet, the door sliding shut and clicking with the sound of a lock.
"Well...shit," Spike said to the gleaming metal of the closed door, summing up the situation perfectly.
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