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Baby Bone Lullaby	By : paw07 Category: Transformers > Transformers: Animated > Slash - M/M Views: 2664 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Ratchet’s peds clicked as he walked down the immaculately kept halls of the Steelhaven though he could start to see slight traces of dirt on the floors. Not entirely unexpected. While Sentinel had been out, Steelhaven had been used as a temporary base more so then their real base. After all, Jazz wanted them to have access to the best health care and sustenance. Ratchet would be sore to admit he was going to slightly miss it.
Though, with talk of building their own space bridge with the pieces Megatron left behind, Ratchet knew that they might soon be able to get to Cybertron whenever they needed. Unfortunately, Megatron had warped somewhere so thoughts of spacebridges could wait until another day after they found the warlord. But right now he had to find out why Jazz, of all mechs, was denying him the time he needed with Sentinel.
His trip finally coming to the end, the doors to the ship’s command center opened, and the medic watched as the ninja-bot typed away at the ship’s main control computer. Jazz seemed troubled and stressed with the way his lips kept twitching and how his door wings kept dripping downward as if irritated. The medic only observed this for a moment before the ninja-bot sighed and turned around.
“Sorry doc-bot, I know you wanted some time with Sentinel … but things came up.”
Ratchet, far too use to Prowl just knowing he was there, pretended not to be annoyed by Jazz’s sudden reply as the mech continued with his typing. Instead, the ambulance walked the rest of the way into the room and stood before the ninja-bot, his face and form showing his obvious displeasure.
The healer’s words were almost foreboding. “You better have a good reason to try and take my patient away from me, young-bot.”
Sighing, looking worn and tired even though his optics were covered, Jazz murmured, “I’m sorry, doc-bot but I got a call from Alpha Trion himself. I had to start preparing for takeoff. No way around it, if you get me?”
Taken aback for a moment, knowing the severity of a situation if Alpha Trion had given a call, Ratchet asked, “What? Why? What happened? You don’t look like good news young-bot.”
Nodding, shoulder’s sagging, his voice was soft, “Ultra Magnus … was attacked.”
“WHAT!” barked Ratchet, a hand coming up to his chassis, a part of him regretting that Jazz hadn’t decided to drag out this conversation instead of just getting straight to the problem. “What happened? Is he okay! Did some of Megatron’s attack force get through the space bridge! What happened?”
“I don’t know. He was brief, probably for security reasons. All he said was that he needed Sentinel back as soon as possible to be a temporary replacement … if not permanent,” said Jazz in all seriousness as he turned to look Ratchet straight in the optic.
Ratchet, still a little over come with shock that their Magnus had been attacked, seemed to come back to himself somewhat. “So you are just leaving? Now! I haven’t even gotten to speak to Sentinel Prime yet! The medical computers might say he is stable but … something is wrong, Jazz. Something is very wrong. I need at least enough time to examine him properly.”
The ninja-bot looked frustrated as he almost glared at the medic. “Really, Ratchet? I know he will need consoling but he was trained for this. And … what could you possibly need to examine? You and Prowl had time to polish him up because he was lying there so long in your medical lab. He is physically fine… Mentally, we can get someone for him to talk to. Either way … we have to go.”
Ratchet was shaking his head, somewhat distressed. “That is true … I did clean him up, meticulously looking for what could be the cause of his comatose state, but I … I didn’t exam one system. I need to make sure.”
Jazz, turning away from his computer completely, frowned and asked, “What system? I am technically this team’s field medic, Ratch. I can look into it, but we need to go.”
Stalling, knowing he could not answer that. The elder healer tried to think of what to say to lure the ninja-bot into his reasoning, but just then a scream and crash filled the halls.
It sounded like a struggle.
…
Optimus stood there, confusion dripping from his very limbs. His mouth was slightly ajar and he was trying to find the right thing to say but unfortunately there was only so much a mech could say to that. Want more of what? He had no idea what Sentinel had meant by that but he looked furious and scared and troubled and near tears.
What had he done?
Noting that Sentinel seemed to be looking for an answer that Optimus did not have, the fire truck struggled for something to say. All he could pronounce was. “I-I don’t understand. Want more of what? Remember what? I don’t understand. All I know is … that … I-I don’t know what came over me, Sentinel. I just had to kiss you.”
Still shivering, optics threatening to start leaking, Sentinel shook his head. “You are lying. Y-you just want to hurt me again.”
That… was like a slap in the face. His spark physically stung and where it had been excited moments ago was now reeling back into itself as if trying to make itself as small as possible inside its casing. It had been denied something and now it was ashamed and hurt. Optimus didn’t really know why it felt like that at all, but he had a feeling that he had a reason to be ashamed.
Hurt him? How had he hurt him?
A blur of yellow pressed at the back of Optimus’ mind in a spark beat thought his spark did not seem to agree.
“… Elita? Is this about her? Sentinel … I never … it was an accident,” said Optimus softly and he looked at his old friend with a broken expression. “You and I both know that. I … It could have been avoided but ultimately it was an accident. I was punished for my mistakes. Please, she wouldn’t want you dwelling on her like this.”
Sentinel, for his part, seemed to snap out of whatever partial breakdown he had woken in, a mad grin slowly covering his face. He even started shaking his head as if in disbelief as the first tear pressed down against his cheek. He looked half mad before he curtly replied, “Salt on the wound … as an organic would say. Haven’t you hurt me enough and now you have to bring her into this?”
Shaking his head, horror slowly overcoming him as Sentinel seemed to sink into a dark place in his mind, the other Prime stumbled over his words. “T-this isn’t about Elita? What are you talking about then? When did I hurt … you?”
Optimus had to take a step back, hand on his chassis as he understood something, the shame in his spark.
“I hurt you down in the subways, didn’t I?”
His words were soft, daring and true. His spark did nothing but agree.
“W-what did I do?”
Sentinel, as if snapping completely out of whatever state he had been in, seemed to come back to himself as if Elita was whispering in his audio. Optics going wide, a hand pacing itself over his mouth, the mech started shaking his head in denial. His voice was shaking as he lowered his hand somewhat to murmur, “I-I…”
I wanted to be Magnus.
“You did nothing … Optimus,” finished Sentinel, his optics unable to look at the other.
Shaking his own head, his spark telling him that Sentinel was lying and that he deserved to know the truth, Optimus’ voice shook. “You’re lying. Tell me what happened! What happened down there?”
The fire-truck’s face was twisted in anger and rage like Optimus could never recall ever feeling before. He wanted to tell himself that he had a reason to be angry and yet at the same time a part of him wondered if his reaction, his rage, was just because the other had turned him down and denied him sexually… that this entire fight was all over sexual frustration and he was currently just picking for a fight.
And yet he could not stall his peds as he came forward and suddenly grabbed Sentinel by his shoulders, his fingers digging into the other’s plating as he all but growled, “What do you mean by I hurt you?”
Sentinel twitched at the other’s touch. Optimus’ current rage was just so unlike him in every way and yet what bothered him the most was the touch which was growing more and more painful. And, for some haunting reason, he also found his spark reacting, his spark becoming angry as well. Why should he only feel sorrow? Why couldn’t he be mad as well? Why couldn’t he be angry for the wrongs that had occurred to him! He had pressed so many things down that only rage he let through obeyed rules and regulations and passive aggressive shit … And he was mad.
He was so angry.
And it snapped.
Sorrow suddenly gave into rage and rage gave into hate and hate gave into action.
A scream suddenly erupting from the sorrowful form and Sentinel lashed out as he pushed against the other’s grasp. Rage had blurred the world into black and white and red. He didn’t recall what happened after that. All Sentinel knew was that he was now punching Optimus over and over and over again until the other was on the floor. And then it was like he was merely watching someone else act again, his form no longer his.
Someone else was screaming and angry and so full of hate that their spark had to be black. And if there was a rock or a heavy item nearby, there would be circuits all over the floor. A helm would be cracked open and oil would be everywhere. Just like Soundwave. Instead, this time, the victim fought back. Optimus was struggling to grab his attacker’s wrists and restrained Sentinel’s uncoordinated attack.
And despite becoming slowly restrained, all Sentinel knew was that there was a shadow -yellow he believed- standing in the darkness of his doorway.
‘Sentinel … stop. Is it not your dream to be Magnus?’
And then his vision blurred as the world returned to color. Sentinel wasn’t sure how Optimus had gotten on top of him, maybe he had been distracted by Elita’s voice which was given form, he didn’t know. All he knew was that Optimus was on top of him and murmuring down at him as energon dripped down the other’s face from his broken lips and damaged optic.
Energon was bleeding down onto his chassis. Blue and warm … like the energon that had once dripped from between his legs.
Sentinel seized, a flashback threatening to hit him full force when there was the sound of peds, chasing away the horror.
“Unicron’s beard! What the pit is going on here!” suddenly came a cry as a shadow casted itself over Elita’s outline causing her ghostly visage to disappear, Ratchet running into the room. “Optimus … get off of him! Get off of him now!!”
And yet, even when a screaming match erupted between Optimus and Ratchet and Jazz, Optimus getting off his abdomen, Sentinel continued to lay there on the floor. He was half lucid, staring at the shadows where she had been, where her apparition had been. It had felt like a groon had gone by though it was probably only a few nano-clicks before Jazz was helping him sit up, wiping the energon from his chassis.
“Hey, hey, SP. You okay? What happened? OP looks like he was hit by a snow plow. You okay?” asked Jazz as he knelt beside the disoriented Prime.
Bringing a hand up, placing it over his optics to try and chase away the outline of her form, the mech shook his head, pretending that he couldn’t hear Ratchet griping and mother-henning over his own Prime in the hall. Instead, all he could do was bring his hand down and stare at the energon on his knuckles, shame and hate pressing deep into his spark.
“I-I hit him. I hit him so hard … It was like Soundwave all over again,” whispered Sentinel, not knowing what else to say.
Jazz, struggling to smile, murmured, “So… you hit him because you thought he was Soundwave?”
Blinking his optics on and off, Sentinel swallowed, knowing it was a lie. He knew he was hitting Optimus. “Yeah, he woke me up and I thought I was back down there … and I just struck out.”
Nodding, sighing, Jazz patted the other on the shoulder. “Alright, I’m … going to help clean Optimus up and … can you clean yourself up? I’ll … talk to you in a little bit. I’ll probably send one of … or both of the fly-kids in with some energon for yah, okay?”
His throat felt tight, his spark constricting in rage and shame … yet all Sentinel could do was stare at his knuckles and the energon all over them. And for some reason, though a part of him told him he deserved penitence for what had been done to him again and again in the subway system, he did not feel one ounce of fulfillment.
And then, there, sitting on the floor as Optimus was mother-henned by both Jazz and Ratchet, Sentinel decided that he would never tell Optimus what happened. Punishing Optimus would bring him no joy and little revenge … and the only one that deserved justice was already dead.
His circuits beaten into the pavement.
His hands becoming fists, Sentinel slowly opened his palms and let it go, Elita’s voice whispering in the back of his mind. ‘That’s my hero … so silently do you suffer.’
…
Jazz sighed as Optimus cringed away from Ratchet’s bloodied hands, the medic trying to bend and tend the soft metal of Prime’s face back into place. Ratchet, finally taking a rag into hand, grumbled, “Alright, Optimus … quit babying. You should have known better than to wake a mech, a soldier, when they might have post traumatic stress. Plus … I warned you not to wake him!”
Optimus, lying on a berth in Steelhaven’s medical bay, sighed. “I know you told me … and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake him … and I shouldn’t have touched him.”
“You touched him,” said Ratchet, his tone odd.
“Yeah,” said Optimus, unable to speak the entire truth at the moment since he still didn’t know how he felt about it. “He was talking … oddly. He said I hurt him and I was coming back for more or … maybe he thought I was Soundwave or something. I just … I should have realized he was dreaming or having a flashback or something.”
Ratchet, his face stoic and cold, said nothing at first before he grumbled, “Stay still kid, I’m going to plug you into the berth and make sure nothing important was damaged.”
Jazz, drying his hands of the energon that had been there, watched as the medic plugged the young mech in, Optimus’ optics going offline. Only once he was sure that the berth’s medical computers had the Prime offline did Jazz speak. “I will make sure he get’s proper counseling when we get back … for Post Traumatic Stress. And I am sorry … about Optimus’ face.”
Ratchet, staring at the readings for a moment, knew what Jazz was leaning towards. The ninja-bot wanted to know if a court marshal was going to be pursued or not after what happened in Sentinel’s room.
Throwing a look at Optimus’ bent face, the medic sneered. He wanted to be angry, he really did, but Optimus’ words … they made him feel sick inside. He was sure, in the back of his mind, that he was wrong about his thoughts of Sentinel being … being raped. But he knew now.
He was right about Optimus raping Sentinel.
And his spark ached as if his own son had just admitted to being a Decepticon.
Swallowing, so tired he wanted to lie down and weep, he murmured, “No, Jazz. I told Optimus not to wake him and he did … I was worried about this kind of reaction so … it is no one’s fault. I should have checked on Sentinel myself.”
Jazz’s shoulders slumped somewhat. “Good to know … and its probably best that we leave as soon as possible.”
Ratchet twitched. “What! What about my checkup? Jazz, if anything this should prove that I need to check him out more.”
Suddenly looking angry, the tone of his voice rising “And what can you do for his mind? You are a medic, not a psychologist! He needs real help … he needs to get away from this place.”
The medic wanted to shake his head. To disagree, to tell Jazz what he knew was wrong and yet … and yet … his vocals were silent. He had a decision to make and quit obviously, as Sari would say: you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink. What a horse was, he wasn’t entirely sure, but he understood the saying none the less.
If Sentinel wanted help, he would have asked for it … not covered it up.
Perhaps in time, but not now, not here with a reminder so close.
And his thoughts were silent as he replied to Jazz, “Perhaps you are right. Let me patch up Optimus … and then you can go.”
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Baby Bone Lullaby