After Atlantis, Part 7

[anon_decepticon]

Title: After Atlantis, Part 7
Author: anon_decepticon
Rating: M
Pairing or Character(s): Wheeljack, Trailbreaker, Jazz and Ratchet are mentioned
Disclaimer: I don’t own Transformers. Part 1 references scenes from the G1 Season 2 episode “Atlantis, Arise!” Part 4 references scenes from the next episode, “Day of the Machines.” Parts 5 and 6 reference scenes (and quote some dialogue) from ”Enter the Nightbird.” These portions of the fic are not mine.
Warning(s): PTSD angst, references to rape, inadvertent/ambiguous dub-con. May be triggering.
Summary: Raped by Starscream, Wheeljack struggles to cope.
Author's Note: Originally a kink meme prompt, this fic ended up going in a decidedly non-smutty direction. Parts 1 and 2 appear on the meme, concluding with a brief epilogue. Parts 3, 4, and 5 detail the scenes described in that epilogue. Part 6 onward explores events extending beyond the epilogue. Thanks to everyone for reading and commenting, and extra special thanks to the wonderful kookaburra1701 for her support and feedback. It's sincerely appreciated.



He’d spent the rest of the night tinkering in his lab.

Recharging was out, so he’d decided to have another go at creating a device that would mimic a processor inhibitor.

He wasn’t having much success. He didn’t really have the right equipment to make one, and even if he had, even if he’d been able to come up with something, the thought of actually using it gave him pause. A minor miscalculation somewhere in the schematic, and he could end up frying his CPU.

As desperate as he was, that was just too much of a risk.

So he’d scrapped the idea, retrieved the energon cube he’d stashed in his subspace, and simply sat and brooded, sipping occasionally.

He still couldn’t believe Ratchet had rejected him. That stung. The realization that Ratchet might not feel as strongly about their friendship as Wheeljack did, that perhaps he never had, stung even more.

It was also really embarrassing. Under normal circumstances, Wheeljack didn’t make overtures toward other mechs unless he was confident the desire was mutual. Ratchet hadn’t given any such indication of interest, but Wheeljack had bulled ahead regardless.

How stupid must he have looked, flaring his field at Ratchet like that? It was beyond pathetic. Ratchet had even said as much, called him stupid and clueless.

At least he wasn’t on duty again until the following day. If there were no injuries, he might be able to avoid the repair bay entirely. He didn’t relish the thought of working side by side with Ratchet again after tonight. It was bound to be awkward.

He cycled a sigh through his intakes. Things between himself and Ratchet had been pretty strained already, what with…everything that had happened.

Now they were going to be unbearable.

Finishing his impromptu energon break, Wheeljack got to his feet. He was in the process of dispersing the empty cube when the wave of depression hit.

He was alone.

He’d thought that was what he wanted – to be left alone. To have no one looking at him, no one evaluating his behavior, asking if he was okay, wanting him to talk...

No company. No questions.

No friends.

He sank to the floor, weak with despair.

He missed Ratchet. He missed Sparkplug and Bumblebee. He missed the way he used to be with them, easygoing, relaxed, confident...

He missed the old Wheeljack.

**

“Okay…one more quick adjustment and we’ll be ready to test it out,” he said.

Trailbreaker’s query ping had interrupted what had been shaping up to be a full-blown pity party. Wheeljack had been grateful for the interruption, not to mention the distraction Trailbreaker’s ensuing visit had provided. They’d spent the last few joors in his lab, first discussing and then implementing the most promising of his ideas to increase Trailbreaker’s fuel efficiency.

“Thanks again for doing this,” Trailbreaker said with sincerity. “I know I keep saying that, but I’m really grateful, and I just don’t know what else to say. It really means a lot to me.”

“Like I said, it’s no problem,” he reassured him. He thought about adding to that, about commenting on the other ‘Bot’s uncanny timing, how he always seemed to show up to offer a distraction or an emotional boost just when Wheeljack needed it most, but opted against it. He’d probably end up having to explain what he meant by that, and that would involve a bit more self-disclosure than he was comfortable with. So he let the statement lie.

“You really think this will lower my energy consumption?” Trailbreaker asked again.

“By roughly fifteen to thirty percent, yes,” Wheeljack replied, more amused than annoyed by the repetition. “At least in theory. We’ll have to run some tests once I get the mods in place, see what the readings say.”

“How much longer?” That question, too, had become quite familiar.

“Just a klik,” he replied, tightening one last coupling and surveying the results with satisfaction. “There. Done.”

Trailbreaker looked startled, almost apprehensive. “I don’t feel any different. What happens now?”

“Now we run those tests I mentioned.”

Wheeljack led him over to where he’d set up the equipment needed to review the results of the modifications and began making the necessary connections with brisk efficiency, plugging the testing devices into the various medical access points located throughout Trailbreaker’s frame.

Trailbreaker’s intakes hitched when Wheeljack made the third connection, a brief, bright spark leaping between his fingers and the Trailbreaker’s secondary medial access port.

“Sorry,” they said almost simultaneously.

Trailbreaker laughed nervously. “You really think–” he began.

“Yes,” Wheeljack interrupted, without rancor. “By fifteen to thirty percent.”

“I’m sorry,” Trailbreaker apologized with obvious chagrin. “It’s not that I think you don’t know what you’re doing, it’s just…I can hardly believe it myself.”

“It’s all right,” Wheeljack replied easily. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

He initiated the test sequence.

**

The modifications had worked.

He’d run Trailbreaker through the entire sequence twice, having him rev his engine at varying RPMs over a series of prearranged intervals, and Trailbreaker had passed with flying colors. The readouts indicated his fuel efficiency had increased by approximately twenty-eight percent, exceeding Wheeljack’s expectations.

His vocal indicators flashed brightly as he announced the results to the stunned Autobot.

“You did it,” Trailbreaker whispered in amazement. “You really did it.”

“Yep,” Wheeljack replied cheerfully. The look of startled wonder on Trailbreaker’s faceplate was immensely gratifying. “Your energy requirements are still a little on the high side compared to some of the smaller ‘Bots, but they’re on a par with most of the larger ones. It’s a definite improvement.”

“Thank you,” Trailbreaker said sincerely, reaching to grip his shoulder strut. “Really. You don’t know what this means to me.”

A faint flicker of unease shivered through him in response to the other’s tone, to his touch, to their proximity, but Wheeljack did his best to quash it. Trailbreaker certainly wasn’t going to hurt him, not after what he’d just done, not the way Trailbreaker was looking at him, admiration and gratitude glowing in his optics. He was perfectly safe. There was no reason to get all...twitchy.

“Well,” he said with more heartiness than he felt, “Let’s get you unhooked.” He began severing the connections between Trailbreaker and the test equipment, removing the plugs from each of the various ports in no particular order, feeling somewhat relieved that the activity gave him an excuse to avoid Trailbreaker’s optics.

He was leaning forward slightly to reach the final plug hooked into Trailbreaker’s upper lateral access port when Trailbreaker suddenly grabbed his free hand.

Puzzled, Wheeljack straightened, raising his helm to meet Trailbreaker’s optics, intending to question this curious action. As he did, he heard Trailbreaker whisper his name, in a voice even lower and deeper than usual.

“Wheeljack,” Trailbreaker said.

And then he felt Trailbreaker’s energy field extending, brushing lightly, teasingly against his own.

It wasn’t anything like Starscream’s had been, Wheeljack would realize later – Trailbreaker’s approach was far more tentative than the Decepticon’s, little more than a barely-there flicker, subtle and gently inquiring – but it was nevertheless the first field flare he had experienced since...it happened.

...which probably explained his downright panicked response.

He flinched and recoiled, staggering back and inadvertently yanking the last plug – still gripped tightly in his hand – free from Trailbreaker’s port with rather more force than was necessary or comfortable. In his haste he stumbled, jarring the nearby table and sending a number of tools crashing to the floor with a loud, echoing clatter.

He gripped the edge of the table hard enough to dent his own fingers, fighting to stay in control, trying to will himself calm. He forced himself to raise his helm, to meet Trailbreaker’s optics.

Trailbreaker avoided his gaze, looking utterly mortified. “S-sorry,” he stammered. “I – sorry. I thought maybe – but you’re not –” he shook his helm, huffing in disgust. “Of course you’re not. Primus, I’m so stupid! You were just being nice –” he muttered.

Wheeljack just stared at him, optics wide, spark pulsing wildly, too stunned to reply.

“I’m really sorry,” Trailbreaker repeated, babbling with chagrin as he backed toward the door. “I shouldn’t have – I-I’ll just get out of your way. T-thanks again. Maybe we could...no. No, I guess not. Um. Thanks. Sorry,” he concluded awkwardly.

His departure from Wheeljack’s lab was a hasty one.

**

It took him roughly half a breem to collect himself enough to move again.

Once the feeling of raw panic receded, embarrassment swept in to take its place. Trailbreaker’s shy overture had been perfectly polite, even conservative by some standards, and Wheeljack had overreacted in the extreme. Primus knew what Trailbreaker thought of him now.

It had just been so...unexpected.

Wheeljack wasn’t overly accustomed to being propositioned – he suspected it had something to do with the likelihood of explosions occurring in his immediate vicinity – but there had been occasions when one mech or another had taken an interest, and he had always taken it in stride, accepting or declining as it suited him.

Until now.

His reaction had been instant, automatic. The unanticipated press of another mech’s energy field against his own had triggered a reflexive, instinctive urge to flee. Even now that Trailbreaker had gone, even knowing he hadn’t meant him any harm, Wheeljack still felt shaken and uneasy.

He returned to his quarters. The lab no longer felt secure.

Dimming the lights, stretching out on the berth and powering down went a long way toward soothing his agitated CPU. He lay quietly for nearly a joor, unmoving, letting the tension slowly bleed from his servos.

As he calmed, he began to think.

He thought about his theory that the sensor ghosts Starscream had left behind in his processor might be replaced by other, more recent ones, ones from a mech he’d chosen.

He thought about Ratchet, about how Ratchet had rejected him, and how that refusal had prevented Wheeljack from testing his theory.

He thought about Trailbreaker, about his gratitude, his obvious interest, his calm, undemanding presence – a presence he’d found quite relaxing and congenial in their recent interactions.

Granted, Wheeljack didn’t know him as well as Ratchet or some of the other ‘Bots, but he’d never heard anyone speak badly of Trailbreaker, and nothing in Trailbreaker’s demeanor hinted that he was anything other than what he appeared to be – mellow, easygoing, funny, a little insecure.

It occurred to him that he could do worse.

He checked his internal chronometer. It was getting on toward evening; the tests and modifications had taken up the better part of the afternoon. Trailbreaker had mentioned while they were working that he was off-duty for the rest of the day. Odds were good he was still around, enjoying the remainder of his time off somewhere on the Ark.

A quick inquiry to Teletraan-1 provided Wheeljack with all the information he required.

**

Trailbreaker seemed very surprised to receive his query ping.

Even after opening the door and finding Wheeljack standing outside, Trailbreaker still looked like he couldn’t quite believe what his optics were scanning.

“...Wheeljack,” he said finally, after a brief, flustered silence.

“Hey,” he greeted him blithely. “Mind if I come in?”

Trailbreaker looked absolutely astonished. “S-sure,” he stammered, stepping back to admit him.

“Thanks,” Wheeljack said as he entered, taking a moment to glance around.

Trailbreaker’s quarters were...nice.

Trailbreaker appeared to be a fairly tidy mech, but not obsessively so; a small amount of personal clutter gave the room a lived-in look. The primary decoration was an assortment of Earth plants housed in small containers – one trailing leafy fronds over a hanging basket suspended from the ceiling in the far corner, several brightening the workstation with colorful flowers, a small, spiky cactus in a painted ceramic pot occupying the berthside table...

Distracted by the décor, he abruptly realized Trailbreaker was staring at him, clearly awaiting an explanation for Wheeljack’s unexpected visit to his personal quarters.

“I came to apologize,” he said simply.

Trailbreaker looked startled. “Apolo – to me?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” Wheeljack replied. “I was, um, kind of surprised when you...” he trailed off, noting Trailbreaker’s mortified expression. “...because I figured you were interested in Hound –”

“Hound?” Trailbreaker repeated, laughing a little. “No, not Hound. Not like that, anyway. I mean, we’ve hooked up before, but that was before he started seeing Mirage. And it was never, you know, serious. Just friends.”

“Right,” he said, nodding. “I thought it must be something like that, since you –”

“Yeah,” Trailbreaker interrupted, still looking embarrassed. “So…does this mean you weren’t offended?” he asked hopefully.

“No, not at all,” he replied, vocal indicators flashing agreeably. “Just...surprised.”

“Oh. Good,” Trailbreaker said, looking faintly puzzled. “That’s good.”

“I, uh, don’t really get a lot of offers,” he admitted.

“Oh,” Trailbreaker said with greater understanding. “But you have–?”

“Oh, yeah,” he replied quickly. “Sure, of course. It’s just...it’s been a while.”

Starscream doesn’t count, he told himself.

Trailbreaker asked with a low chuckle, “How long is ‘a while’?”

Ratchet doesn’t count either.

“...since Cybertron,” he confessed after an awkward pause.

“Wow,” Trailbreaker said, impressed. “That is a while.”

“Well, no one’s really asked me,” he replied, a touch defensively. “It’s not like I’ve got mechs beating my door down. Crazy inventor, tends to blow himself up–”

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Trailbreaker said softly, edging closer.

“Maybe just a little,” Wheeljack whispered back as Trailbreaker closed on him, feeling a faint, familiar tingling sensation creeping through his circuitry

Was he really going to do this? Could he do this?

A part of him wanted to. Another part was terrified.

This time, when Trailbreaker’s energy field brushed gently against his, Wheeljack was ready for it. He suppressed a hitch in his intakes and responded with an answering pulse, matching Trailbreaker’s intensity, synching their frequencies.

He managed not to flinch or stiffen when Trailbreaker reached for him, running eager hands over his frame.

I can do this, he thought vehemently. I need to do this.

He steeled himself, and began to touch Trailbreaker in return. Countless cycles of assisting Ratchet in the repair bay had left Wheeljack with an excellent working knowledge of other build types, including a general awareness of the overall layout of sensor nets on each individual Autobot. If his memory files were accurate, Trailbreaker should have a particularly dense cluster of sensor nodes right...there.

The action elicited a startled moan and the soft ticking sound of Trailbreaker’s internal fans switching on. The persistent fingers that had been hopefully probing along his armor seams suddenly redoubled their efforts.

“I’m no medic,” Trailbreaker breathed urgently into his audial. “Tell me where.”

Wheeljack hesitated, feeling strangely reluctant to reveal his own hot spots, to willingly hand over the keys to his chassis. To buy himself some time, he sent a series of slow, steady pulses through his energy field, letting them wash over the larger mech.

That, as it turned out, was a mistake.

Trailbreaker was quick to respond in kind, revving his engine and transmitting his own set of swift, heavy pulses. Wheeljack’s cooling fans stuttered to life as his core temperature jumped, responding to the surge of pleasure that sparked through his circuits. His fingers slipped, his knee-joints suddenly turning to water –

“Whoa there,” Trailbreaker said as he caught and lowered him gently to the berth. “It really has been a while, hasn’t it?” he commented teasingly, stroking Wheeljack’s chestplate affectionately. “Don’t worry about getting there before me,” he said reassuringly. “I know how it is. Just relax, and leave the drivin’ to me. I’ll take care of ya.”

The next thing Wheeljack knew, he was lying on his back, firm, insistent hands moving over his frame, an energy field pulsing hot and hard against his own, and it felt good, but at the same time, hideously familiar and wrong.

A cold wave of terror washed over him, freezing his spark, chilling his core.

It’s happening again.

He couldn’t move; he was immobilized by fear. He couldn’t speak; his vocalizer refused to function.

Stop, he thought desperately. Please stop.

But Trailbreaker didn’t stop, didn’t seem to notice his distress. He continued to explore Wheeljack’s chassis with remarkable care and thoroughness, mapping every plane and angle with his hands, memorizing every dip and curve. Through it all, no word of protest escaped Wheeljack’s recalcitrant vocalizer; the only sounds it produced were quiet whimpers and soft, helpless moans.

Too frightened to resist, Wheeljack could only cling to Trailbreaker’s shoulder-struts, quivering in response to his touches and silently praying that Trailbreaker wouldn’t want to conclude the act by uplinking with him. Every astrosecond that passed was spent in dread of the next, gripped by a fearful certainty that at any moment, Trailbreaker would reach for his chestplate, open him up and plug himself in...

Primus saw fit to answer his prayer, or perhaps Trailbreaker didn’t believe in uplinking during a first interface. Whatever the reason, he limited his efforts to manipulating Wheeljack’s energy field and stimulating the sensors covering his frame.

Regrettably, that was enough.

Wheeljack’s inevitable overload filled him with a horrible despair.

**

The aftermath of the intimate encounter had been incredibly awkward, at least for Wheeljack.

Somehow, he’d gotten through it. He’d managed to nod at all the appropriate intervals, to behave as if he’d enjoyed himself. He’d done everything he could to keep Trailbreaker from realizing anything was amiss. He’d even thanked him for his generosity in not expecting him to reciprocate.

“You can make it up to me next time,” Trailbreaker had replied genially.

Next time.

Wheeljack didn’t want there to be a next time.

But he didn’t dare tell Trailbreaker that. Wheeljack had come to him, not the other way around. Trailbreaker had been ready to accept his refusal, until he had withdrawn it. He'd asked for it. He’d invited it. He’d accepted Trailbreaker’s advances.

And when he’d changed his mind, he hadn’t told Trailbreaker to stop.

Wheeljack paused long enough to enter the locking code at the door to his quarters, and then retreated inside. He sank onto the berth with a heavy sigh, overwhelmed by the enormity of the mess he’d gotten himself into.

He couldn’t tell Trailbreaker he didn’t want to interface with him again, not without seeming fickle or a liar. None of the usual excuses would suffice. He couldn’t claim he wasn’t interested; he’d already indicated that he was. He couldn’t claim the encounter had been unsatisfying; he’d overloaded, Trailbreaker hadn’t.

There was only one rational, plausible reason he could give as to why he was loath to pursue an intimate relationship with Trailbreaker, but unfortunately that reason had everything to do with a recent incident involving him and a certain Decepticon Second-in-Command.

Wheeljack would sooner be deactivated than reveal that shameful secret.

So he’d had no choice but to agree to meet Trailbreaker the next morning for energon, to spend time with him, to act as if everything was normal.

He’d written this program, and now he had to execute it.

**

“Mornin’, Wheeljack!” Jazz called cheerfully as he passed the table in the common room Wheeljack had chosen, making him jump.

“Morning,” he replied in a subdued tone as he watched Jazz make his way to the energon dispenser. He’d shown up anticipating Trailbreaker would be waiting for him, but Trailbreaker hadn’t arrived yet. The delay was making Wheeljack increasingly uneasy.

He fidgeted with his cube, eyeing the second one he’d set on the table across from him for Trailbreaker, to mark the seat as taken. He pondered subspacing both and returning to his lab. He could always claim he’d forgotten they’d planned to meet, lost track of the time –

“Good morning!”

Trailbreaker moved around to take the empty seat opposite him, trailing a hand affectionately across Wheeljack’s shoulder-strut as he did so. He picked up the cube with a nod of thanks, and took a sip.

“Recharge well?” Trailbreaker asked.

Try not at all, Wheeljack thought grimly. “Sure, you?” he asked.

“Had a little trouble switching off, at first,” Trailbreaker said, his tone lightly teasing. “For some reason, my circuits were all overheated.”

Wheeljack flinched guiltily. “Sorry,” he muttered, avoiding Trailbreaker’s optics.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that,” Trailbreaker replied quickly, looking apologetic. “I don’t mind, really. Pit, after all you’ve done for me, I owed you one. Two or three, even.”

Wheeljack nodded, taking a sip from his cube.

Trailbreaker reached for his free hand, covering it with his own. “I’m really glad you came by last night,” he said, soft and sincere. “I never dreamed you actually would.”

Wheeljack struggled to find a suitable response to that, frantically searching his CPU for the right words to form a reply. Say something, he thought anxiously, his spark twisting in its chamber. Trailbreaker was regarding him closely. He’s looking at you, say something!

“What’s wrong?” Trailbreaker asked, concern and a hint of dread coloring his tone as Wheeljack lowered his gaze.

He couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bring himself to lift his optics from the cube in front of him. His vocalizer was frozen, his vocal indicators dark and lifeless.

“Is it...because of last night?” Trailbreaker inquired hesitantly, almost fearfully, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Did I...did I do something wrong?”

“No,” he said quietly, finding his voice at last. “No, you...you were fine. I just...I think I made a mistake. It was….it was too soon.”

Trailbreaker stared at him, looking hurt and bewildered, but then a glimmer of understanding lit his optics. “Too fast?” he asked.

“Um...yeah,” he said. “I guess, yeah.”

“I’m not really one for fast myself,” Trailbreaker admitted. “I know I made the first move, but I wasn’t expecting to go all-out right then and there, or even that night. I just wanted you to know I was interested,” Trailbreaker explained. “Personally, I prefer to get to know a mech before I start bumpin’ windshields with ‘im.”

Wheeljack nodded in agreement.

Trailbreaker looked at him shyly, “But after what you did for me, I figured, what more do I need to know? You’re about as good as they get.”

“Thanks,” Wheeljack said softly, touched by the compliment.

“Plus, Hound knows you, and he said I should go for it.”

“Oh.”

“I’m not in any hurry, though,” Trailbreaker said. “When you said you hadn’t overloaded since we left Cybertron, I figured you wouldn’t want to wait. But if you’d rather take it slow, that’s more than fine by me.”

“Yeah,” he replied. “Yeah, okay.”

“We could go for a drive sometime,” Trailbreaker suggested. “Get to know each other better?”

Whheljack thought about the night before, about Trailbreaker’s hands moving lovingly over his chassis, and suppressed a shudder. Then he thought about the sunset they’d watched together, the time they’d spent in his lab working on the mods, and how relaxing it had been, how much he’d enjoyed Trailbreaker’s company, how grateful he’d been to have it.

To not be alone.

“Sure,” he replied. “That...that sounds nice.”

Looking strangely relieved, Trailbreaker rose, dispersed his empty cube, and held out a hand. “When are you off duty again?”

Wheeljack subspaced the remainder of his own cube and accepted the proffered hand, allowing the other mech to pull him to his feet. “Tomorrow.”

“Shoot, I’m on then,” Trailbreaker said, sounding disappointed. “Maybe I can switch with somebody. If I do, I’ll comm you.”

“All right,” he replied.

...maybe it would be.


*Part 8 is here*

Comments

[pl2363.livejournal.com]

poor wheeljack... i love this story. *eager awaits next chapter*

[poptartodoom.livejournal.com]

Finally sat down and read this fic, and I've gotta say, woah. I love Wheeljack, he's my favorite character, so to see a Wheeljack-centric fic is thrilling. Poor guy, though. You've got the characterization and the emotions for this situation down pat. I can't wait for the next installment!

[anon-decepticon.livejournal.com]

He's my favorite Autobot, too. The original prompt only requested the rape, but I just couldn't bring myself to leave him like that - hence the massive longwinded fic detailing his healing process. It won't be quick or easy, but 'Jack will get his happy ending. Thanks for reading!

[lyricality.livejournal.com]

I'm really enjoying this fic thus far--I was so glad to see it updated!--and I wanted to give you all the praise you deserve for never taking the easy road out of Wheeljack's difficult problem. Quite a lot of writers don't deal with the day-to-day emotional aftermath of a rape, and too often, a "perfect" sexual encounter with another character (usually The One) becomes an immediate cure for all the horrible aftereffects. Wheeljack's reactions here are far more realistic, and his lingering fear of and distaste for any kind of interfacing rings painfully true. Holding to such an honest representation of the situation requires a greater commitment from you as a writer, and I wanted to thank you for facing the challenge head-on.

This story has touched me in any number of ways, and I'm eagerly looking forward to more. ^_^

[anon-decepticon.livejournal.com]

This may be the nicest comment I've ever gotten. Thanks so much! I'm glad you're enjoying it! I'm a stickler for emotional realism and accurate psychology, so I can't imagine doing this any other way. The world would probably be a nicer place if good sex and/or true love were the cure for rape, but sadly that's just not the case.

[aaaaaah.livejournal.com]

*squees at the angst* I kind of love that I still can't tell if this is ultimately going to be Wheeljack/Trailbreaker or Ratchet/Wheeljack.

[dvana.livejournal.com]

Lovely! Trailbreaker is a friggin' saint. I hope that 'jack manages to patch things (ha) with Ratchet at some point.

Thanks for the chapter, loved reading it!

[laratron.livejournal.com]

Oh 'Jack. *sniffles* I feel so bad for him. Trailbreaker is a good mech. I hope everything works out in the end.

[vonderbarr.livejournal.com]

Trailbreaker is just so sweet. If Wheeljack had to have a this-is-a-bad-idea one-night stand 'Breaker was a good choice. And dammit, Ratchet, if you had just told Jack what you meant to instead of yelling and throwing things maybe things wouldn't be so awkward. Or maybe they'd be more awkward. Anyway, I'm really looking forward to how this is going to work out.

[sister-dear.livejournal.com]

No matter how this eventually turns out, I love you so much for giving Trailbreaker an actual, major role and some real characterization. *Trailbreaker fan is very, very happy*

Oh Wheeljack. *wince* The poor guy is not making things any better for himself.

Also, in the last chapter, Ratchet's reaction was written very well. You did a good job of conveying his feelings to the reader even though Wheeljack is still massively (and convincingly) misreading things.

[anon-decepticon.livejournal.com]

I like TB. Stick around, you'll be seeing more of him!

[naboru-narluin.livejournal.com]

Wheeljack misinterprets Ratchet behaviour pretty much. *drop* Okay, due to his current state of sleeplessness and not so bright thoughts at all it’s probably natural, but… ARGH! I really want to shake him till he finally gets it!

But when Trailbreaker showed up, I had to grin - until it happened. Awww…
You’re so cruel, you know that? I wanted to hug Trailbreaker because of his self-conscious, but somehow he’s cute… *lol*

Wheeljack wasn’t overly accustomed to being propositioned – he suspected it had something to do with the likelihood of explosions occurring in his immediate vicinity.
That was unexpected in this situation and I nearly spit my coffee over my laptop. Thanks. *g*

Oh shit… it happened again.
Oh god, Wheeljack, you’re such an idiot!
And I feel sorry for Trailbreaker, too, since he didn’t know what he was doing to Wheeljack and… Yes, you’re really cruel.
But it’s good, because… well, I mean if they suddenly ran happily over a flowery meadow and lived happily ever after, it would be pretty… unexpected.

Though, I must say I could hardly read the part after Wheeljack’s overload. Not because it’s bad written or something, far from it, just the feeling. Wheeljack’s awkwardness was so real.
And Trailbreaker was so cute again…

And you know what? Despite all the drama, I utterly love the cactus in Trailbreaker’s quarters. ^^

[anon-decepticon.livejournal.com]

Wheeljack misinterprets Ratchet behaviour pretty much.
Yeah, 'Jack's not real good with emotions (it's an engineer thing.) He's not completely lacking in empathy, but he doesn't always grasp what others are feeling unless confronted with those feelings directly.

That was unexpected in this situation and I nearly spit my coffee over my laptop.
You might want to avoid drinking anything while reading one of my fics. I have a habit of inserting random deadpan humor into otherwise serious scenes. I just can't resist!

Oh god, Wheeljack, you’re such an idiot!
One of the themes I wanted to explore in this fic was the fact that people suffering from PTSD often make bad, self-defeating decisions. It's harder to read about, but (I hope) more realistic and more respectful of the struggle real survivors face.

Despite all the drama, I utterly love the cactus in Trailbreaker’s quarters. ^^
I love it too! Which is why you'll be seeing it again. ;)