After Atlantis, Part 14

[anon_decepticon]

Title: After Atlantis, Part 14
Author: anon_decepticon
Rating: M
Pairing or Character(s): Wheeljack, Trailbreaker, Hound, Ratchet, Optimus Prime…hell, everyone.
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.” Part 9 references scenes from “Dinobot Island, Parts 1 & 2”. Part 11 references scenes from “The Master Builder” and “Auto Berserk.” Part 12 references scenes from “Microbots,” (as does Part 13, briefly) and gives minor nods to “Heavy Metal War” and “Prime Target.” Part 14 references scenes from the two-part episode “Megatron’s Master Plan,” and gives a teeny nod to “The Ultimate Doom.” These portions of the fic are not mine.
Warning(s): PTSD angst, references to rape, references to sex, sexual situations.
Summary: Raped by Starscream, Wheeljack struggles to cope.
Author's Note: If you've gotten this far, you already know the backstory. Original Kink Meme prompt. Previous installments: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13. Also available on FFN. This header is getting too damn big! I’m too wiped out to make witty comments on this chapter; just writing it exhausted me. Special thanks to kookaburra1701 for pushing me not to settle for “good enough” when “better” was only half a page away. The meme is still open for questions if anyone cares to ask them. Thanks for reading and commenting; it’s what keeps me going.



Wheeljack was roused from recharge by Trailbreaker climbing over him.

His servos tensed as he stiffened in alarm. But Trailbreaker simply proceeded to rise from the berth and make his way to the door, activating the mechanism. As the door slid open, Wheeljack struggled to sit up, his processor hazy from being pulled prematurely from its recharge cycle.

“I’m gonna do it, ‘Breaker,” someone said. “I’m finally gonna give it to him!”

It took him a few astroseconds to recognize the voice as Hound’s. By then Trailbreaker was already responding, “That’s great, Hound,” in a less-than-enthusiastic tone.

There was a pause. “Oh, sorry, did I drag you out of recharge?” he heard Hound ask. Hound didn’t sound especially apologetic – his vocalizer transmitted a hectic blend of excitement and apprehension.

“It’s all right,” Trailbreaker replied. “I had to get up anyway.”

“You think Mirage’ll like it?” Hound asked anxiously, apparently having second thoughts.

“He’ll love it,” Trailbreaker reassured him.

“What if he doesn’t like Quatra?” Hound asked nervously. “I know it’s a Towers game, but what if it turns out to be the one thing about the Towers Mirage has always hated?”

“He’ll still be touched that you made it for him,” Trailbreaker replied patiently. “You spent orns putting that board together, Hound! You even learned how to play, so he’d actually be able to use it! Even if he hates the game, he’ll still be impressed that you did all that for him.”

Hound seemed mollified by Trailbreaker’s reasoning. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll give it to him today.”

“He’ll love it,” Trailbreaker said again. “Don’t worry.”

“You want to go and get some energon?” Hound asked.

Trailbreaker hesitated, glancing back at Wheeljack as if suddenly remembering he was there. “Uh…”

“What’s wrong?” Hound asked, peering past him. His optics lit briefly as he spied Wheeljack seated on the berth, and his smile broadened into a grin. “Oh, I see. Morning, Wheeljack!” he called cheerfully.

Wheeljack’s circuits heated with embarrassment. “Hey, Hound,” he replied.

“Feel like getting some energon?” Hound asked him. “I’m betting you both could use it,” he added with a teasing glance at Trailbreaker, who responded with a sheepish shrug.

“Sure,” he said, resigning himself to his fate.

**

Wheeljack stared blankly at the monitors, barely registering their output.

He’d excused himself only a few breems after they arrived in the common room, quietly consuming half his cube while the two friends talked and joked with one another before stowing the remainder in his subspace compartment and announcing that he had to report for duty. Trailbreaker had smiled fondly at him as he made his farewells. Hound had grinned and speculated aloud that he’d be seeing him later.

Wheeljack had felt lower than an oil stain.

Last night’s guilt had returned in force, accompanied by a bitter undercurrent of envy at the easy camaraderie the two mechs shared. A surge of self-disgust had welled up in his spark, thick and choking, and for a moment he’d almost hated them. He’d been like that once, mellow and untroubled, able to laugh and swap jokes with his friends, to play games and make plans that didn’t involve threatening them or deceiving them with lies. He may as well have been a Decepticon, the way he was behaving lately.

He wished he’d been deactivated that day, that Nergill’s weapon had extinguished his spark. That would have been better.

Starscream had ruined him.

He wondered if the others were fighting Starscream now. Teletraan-1 had detected Decepticon activity at the new solar power facility in Central City shortly after he arrived for his shift. Optimus Prime, Ironhide, Bumblebee, Smokescreen, Warpath and Tracks had gone to deal with the raiding ‘Cons.

That had been several joors ago.

He was about to comm the group to request a status report when he heard them return. He knew instantly that they’d been victorious – their approaching voices were jubilant, chattering excitedly.

“I still say it’s about time,” Spike said as he came in.

“It seems a little silly to me,” Bumblebee replied. “It’s not as if we wouldn’t have saved them anyway. We fight the Decepticons all the time.”

“Which is why you deserve to be recognized,” Spike insisted. “You guys have saved us and our planet dozens of times; it’s about time someone noticed.”

“It is nice to finally be appreciated for our efforts,” Tracks opined.

Wheeljack looked at Optimus Prime, who’d entered with the rest but had thus far remained silent. “What’s going on, Optimus?”

“The mayor of Central City wishes for the Autobots to attend a ceremony at City Hall tomorrow, in gratitude for stopping the Decepticons today,” Optimus Prime explained.

“It’s to honor you all, Wheeljack!” Spike said. “The news crews that were there for the grand opening filmed the whole thing, and the mayor’s going to show the video during the ceremony! He’s even throwing a parade! Isn’t it great?”

“Yeah,” he said. “That sounds really nice.”

**

The rest of his shift had been uneventful. When it ended, Wheeljack headed for his quarters.

He wasn’t looking forward to facing another night of sensor echoes and interrupted recharge, but he couldn’t bring himself to go looking for Trailbreaker again. He hated himself enough already.

Trailbreaker was a good mech. He deserved better than a screwed-up pile of scrap like Wheeljack.

Maybe I should tell him the truth, he thought bitterly. Tell him the mech he’s been ‘facing is nothing but a filthy ‘Con’s leftovers.

That would certainly solve the problem; Trailbreaker would probably purge his tanks right then and there.

His own fuel tank churned at the thought, imagining the look of revulsion overtaking Trailbreaker’s faceplate as he learned the disgusting truth about his new lover.

There’d be no more affectionate touches, then. No more words of admiration or optics that glowed with desire when they looked at him. No more shy, tentative field flares or requests to interface. Trailbreaker wouldn’t want him anymore.

And once the word got out, no one else would, either.

Well…maybe Ratchet would. But how long would even Ratchet’s interest last once the whole Ark knew the truth? Associating with a tainted, defective mech like him would render Ratchet equally undesirable in the optics of his peers, and Ratchet was too fond of casual interfacing to settle for Wheeljack – and only Wheeljack – forever. His interest would quickly wane, and then...

He keyed in the locking code on his door, feeling spark-sick. Spurning the berth, he made his way to his chair as the door slid shut behind him, slumping into it with a soft clank.

It surprised him that he actually cared. After Starscream had – after it had happened, Wheeljack had felt certain he’d never want to interface with anyone ever again. If someone had told him then that he’d never have to, that no one would ever ask, he’d probably have welcomed the news. But now…

Last night he’d been apprehensive initially, what with Trailbreaker being so…enthusiastic, but he hadn’t locked up the way he had the first time they’d interfaced. He wasn’t sure why, but for some reason he’d been…okay with it. Okay with being pinned beneath the larger mech, with not being in control.

He’d even kind of liked it. It had been…nice.

He thought about the way Trailbreaker had touched him that night, shivering at the remembered sensations. Trailbreaker’s eager touches had been ardent and admiring, almost worshipful. It had felt good to be touched like that, to be treated like he was something rare and valuable.

But it had also been painful. Deep in his spark, Wheeljack knew he wasn’t worthy. He didn’t deserve to be touched like that.

**

An internal reminder chimed, pulling him out of standby mode. Wheeljack rose groggily from his chair, feeling the lack of recharge in the sluggish response time of his systems, but unable to do anything to rectify it.

It probably wouldn’t matter today, anyhow. Today was the day the mayor of Central City had chosen to honor them, and every Autobot – with the exception of Prowl and Red Alert, who’d insisted on remaining behind to ensure the Ark wasn’t left undefended, and a handful of others who’d agreed to stay and support them, or were camera-shy – had been invited to attend.

Wheeljack would have remained behind himself, if not for Sparkplug, Spike and Chip being so enthused about the whole thing. The humans knew him well enough to regard a refusal to participate on his part to be uncharacteristic of him, and therefore something to question.

The last thing Wheeljack wanted was questions, so he’d had no choice but to go along with the rest.

The parade itself had been rather boring due to the extremely slow speed they were expected to drive, but the cheers and applause from the humans who’d gathered to honor them – including Spike, Sparkplug, and Chip, who’d joined the crowd of observers rather than riding along with one of the ‘Bots – had helped to mitigate that. Wheeljack had been positioned in the leading row, which put him too close to the human marching band and their drums for his taste, but only two mechs over from Optimus Prime and flanked by Ironhide and Jazz, which was good, and by Hound, which was awkward but tolerable. Trailbreaker had stayed behind to help guard the Ark. Ratchet was a whole two rows behind him.

The parade route ended at the entrance to City Hall, where the mayor awaited them, ready to extend whatever honor he intended to bestow. But prior to that, he'd wanted to show the video of the previous day’s heroics, so when the Autobots arrived, the mayor made a brief speech and rolled the tape.

It wasn’t them.

Ironhide was the first to notice something was amiss, pointing out that they were looking at an oil field, not a solar power plant. As the video continued to play, the Autobots could only look on in horror as Megatron tarred their reputations with lies and false evidence.

Wheeljack was outraged and disgusted by the fake footage. Of the three clips shown, only he and Ironhide had appeared in all three, and his doppelganger had been granted a starring role in the second, gleefully describing an invention he’d allegedly made which would reprogram honorable mechs to evil, forcing them to commit random acts of destruction.

Megatron did that, not him! Wheeljack would never create such a repugnant device. But there “he” was, being broadcast to Primus-knew-how-many viewers, proudly proclaiming his intent to perform one of the most base and immoral acts a Cybertronian could conceive.

It was beyond offensive, not to mention utterly humiliating.

Needless to say, they didn’t receive any accolades. Instead they received a warning not to leave the area and were pelted with various organic substances by the angry crowd that had originally gathered to praise them as they departed from City Hall. In a moving display of loyalty, Spike, Sparkplug and Chip had stood with them, an act which only served to earn them the animosity of their fellow humans. They'd called them traitors.

Taking their human friends along with them in order to shield them from the ire of the crowd, the Autobots returned to the Ark in disgrace.

**

“I can’t believe it,” Sparkplug said angrily as he bent over Wheeljack’s right foot, struggling to extract the pulped remains of a tomato that had gotten lodged in the grill of his alt mode, “Those stupid, ungrateful, sonova –” he halted abruptly, glancing at his son, “…guns,” he concluded lamely.

“You can say it, Dad,” Spike said, smirking. “We’re all thinking it anyway.”

Sparkplug shook his head, a fleeting smile flashing across his features like a ray of sunlight on a cloudy day before his expression darkened again. “It just makes me so mad,” he continued, finally getting the last of the smashed fruit free. He straightened, meeting Wheeljack’s gaze. “After all the times you guys have saved us from the Decepticons, all it took was one phony videotape for them to turn on you. Makes me ashamed to be human.”

Wheeljack regarded his friend with sympathy. “They turned on you too,” he pointed out. “Maybe you shouldn’t have spoken up for us. Maybe you should’ve stayed clear until we sorted this mess out.”

“No way,” Sparkplug replied loyally. “You’ve personally saved my son’s life at least three times I can think of, Wheeljack. You saved mine when that mad scientist brainwashed me, and when that crazy robot welder grabbed me at Quantum Labs.” He sighed. “You’ve all saved our lives so many times…”

“We’ll think of something,” Bumblebee said optimistically. “We’ve beaten Megatron before, we can do it again.”

“That’s not even counting all the times you've saved our entire planet,” Sparkplug persisted. “We’re not going anywhere. It’s gonna take a lot more than a few rotten tomatoes to scare us off.” He paused to wipe his hands on an old rag. “You ‘Bots need us now more than ever. Someone’s got to stand up for you. If I could just talk to the mayor, I know I could convince him it was all lies –”

“There’s got to be some way we can prove it to him,” Chip broke in. “Some kind of evidence that the footage was faked. I wonder how they did it.”

“If only there was a way we could spy on them and find out,” Spike mused. “Hey! What if Mirage were to sneak into the Decepticon base and listen in on what they were planning? Maybe even record them so we could show it as proof that Megatron was lying?”

“That’s a good idea, Spike,” Bumblebee said. “You should tell it to Optimus.”

Bumblebee and the two young humans hurried off to do just that while Sparkplug and Wheeljack remained behind at the monitors, watching as the trio made their way over to where Optimus Prime was standing with the other ‘Bots who’d attended the ceremony. For the moment, it appeared Sunstreaker had the floor – complaining, Wheeljack surmised, about the damage the angry mob had done to his finish.

“Hey, Wheeljack – what’s up with Ratchet?” Sparkplug asked out of the blue.

He looked at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, that’s right, you haven’t been in the repair bay lately,” Sparkplug said. “Ratchet’s been acting kind of...weird,” he explained. “He doesn’t joke around anymore, or even complain – he hardly talks at all! If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was depressed.”

“Oh,” he said. He had a good idea why that might be the case.

“I tried asking him what was wrong, but he wouldn’t tell me,” Sparkplug said. “You’re his friend, maybe you should talk to him.”

Wheeljack tensed at the suggestion. “I, uh…I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Sparkplug.”

“Why not?” Sparkplug asked, regarding him quizzically. “Whatever’s bothering him, I’m sure he’d tell you…” He trailed off, cocking his head as Wheeljack shifted uncomfortably. “Wait a minute…why haven’t you been in repair bay lately? Is that why Ratchet’s been so moody? Did you two have a fight or something?”

He turned back to the monitors, ostensibly to check the readouts, avoiding the human’s gaze.

“Oh, don’t you start now,” Sparkplug said, a hint of exasperation coloring his tone. “What’s going on, Wheeljack? Are you and Ratchet fighting, or what?”

Wheeljack hesitated, struggling to find a suitably innocuous answer to Sparkplug’s question without resorting to an outright lie. “…it’s, um…it’s complicated,” he said finally.

Sparkplug barked a startled laugh. “‘Complicated’?” he repeated. “Jeez, Wheeljack, you make it sound like the two of you are…oh my God.” His eyes widened, his mouth falling open in shock.

Wheeljack stiffened as he glanced back and caught sight of the look of dawning revelation on Sparkplug’s face. His friend was staring at him like he’d never seen him before. The humans weren’t supposed to know..!

“My God, Wheeljack,” Sparkplug breathed. “Are you and R–?”

Teletraan-1’s warning klaxon blared, drowning out the rest of his question.

Wheeljack turned briskly back to the monitors. “External security breached!” he reported.

“Get a visual, Wheeljack,” Prime ordered.

Wheeljack hastily obeyed. A fleet of tanks appeared on the monitors, tanks owned by the mayor’s rival, a wealthy businessman by the name of Shawn Berger, the same businessman who had donated the solar energy facility to the city. A helicopter hovered above them, carrying Berger himself. As the tanks approached, a P.A. system crackled to life, broadcasting a demand for the Autobots’ immediate surrender.

They exited the Ark, going out to meet the oncoming army. Some of the ‘Bots wanted to fight, to demonstrate just how laughable a threat Berger’s tanks really were, but Optimus Prime advised caution. His wisdom was borne out a moment later when the mayor’s voice came over the P.A., announcing that all of the Autobots were under arrest.

Obeying Optimus Prime’s orders, they surrendered without a fight.

**

The mayor had promised them a fair trial, and the humans had done their best to provide it. The Autobots were led to a football stadium where a judge waited to hear their case. A massive crowd had gathered to hear the verdict; Spike, Sparkplug and Chip had joined them in the stands.

The star witness for the prosecution was none other than Shawn Berger. In the midst of his testimony, the Decepticons arrived. The Autobots eyed them with suspicion, but Megatron’s forces made no move to attack, seemingly content to simply observe the proceedings with a gloating air of triumph.

The sight of Starscream standing among them made Wheeljack’s spark clench in fear. He couldn’t keep his optics focused on the judge; he kept glancing back over his shoulder-strut, sneaking wary looks at the Seeker. At one point their optics met, and Starscream smirked.

Wheeljack looked away quickly, his hands beginning to shake.

Thanking Berger for his testimony, the judge stepped up to the podium to render his decision. Mustering all his will, Wheeljack glanced back at Starscream once more, only to find his view of the Seeker blocked by a familiar red and white chassis.

Ratchet.

He turned back hastily, praying Ratchet hadn’t seen him looking. He was just in time to hear the judge’s verdict.

Guilty. The Autobots were sentenced to exile in deep space, never to return to Earth.

**

The mood aboard the starship was bleak.

“I’m going to miss Earth,” Hound said in a melancholy tone. “It was such a beautiful planet.”

“It’ll be good to see Cybertron again,” Mirage volunteered, trying to cheer him up.

“Cybertron’s not what it used to be,” Hound replied, slouching dejectedly in his seat. No one seemed inclined to dispute his statement.

Wheeljack tried to console himself with the knowledge that he’d probably never see Starscream again, but the gloom that permeated the ship was oppressive, and he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to Sparkplug, Spike, Chip, and their other human allies. What if Megatron decided to make an example of them, to punish them for aiding the Autobots? The thought of them being tortured or deactivated sent a chill through Wheeljack's spark.

While he worried about the fate of their friends, the mood on the ship continued to deteriorate, going from depressed to downright contentious. Ironhide began sniping at Cosmos, then turned his venom on Hound when the tracker tried to intervene on Cosmos’ behalf. The next thing they knew, Ironhide was glaring at Optimus Prime, loudly stating that the blame for their current situation lay entirely on him.

The other Autobots were stunned by the open attack on their commander; even Prime himself seemed taken aback. To their even greater shock, Optimus admitted that he might have made a mistake.

Cliffjumper leapt from his seat, declaring that there was still time to turn around and go back – but when Optimus Prime approved the suggestion and Cliffjumper attempted to alter their course, they discovered to their dismay that it had been locked in.

It was a bad sign.

Hound checked their trajectory, and the news got worse. They were on a collision course…with the sun.

**

Everyone was overheating.

It was perfectly understandable given their heading. The temperature was increasing with every passing astrosecond. Optimus had ordered Cosmos to do something, and Cosmos had tried, but to no avail. Teletraan-1 had charted their course, and there was no way for them to alter it remotely; the Ark’s master computer was already well out of range of their comms.

They were doomed.

Wheeljack glanced around, taking in the despairing expressions on the faceplates of the mechs surrounding him. As he surveyed the room, his gaze fell on Ratchet, and their optics locked.

They shared a look of grim determination.

“Everyone, line up,” Ratchet ordered. “I’ll deal with you one at a time. Wheeljack?”

He nodded and stood. “Form two lines,” he said.

“Three lines,” Hoist chimed in.

“Four,” Perceptor said, rising to his feet.

They set to work.

For nearly a joor they fought against the inevitable, repairing the damage caused by overheating circuitry and performing increasingly creative field patches to stave off the killing heat. They worked tirelessly, pausing only when their own circuits began to spark and flare, at which point whichever of the other repair ‘Bots was nearest would wordlessly step in and perform a quick repair on their compatriot. That accomplished, both mechs would resume their previous efforts.

Wheeljack barely acknowledged it when a shower of sparks exploded from his shoulder-strut as he endeavored to prevent a similar occurrence from taking place in Windcharger, the current focus of his attention. A moment later he felt the touch of another’s hands, moving with swift assurance as they repaired the damage. He finished with Windcharger, looking back to see who had come to his aid –

It was Ratchet.

He activated his vocalizer to thank him, but Ratchet moved briskly away without ever meeting his optics.

A wave of sorrow swept over him. He didn’t want to deactivate like this. He didn’t want to die angry at the best friend he’d ever had. Regardless of what had happened between them, Wheeljack couldn’t bear the thought that this was how it was all going to end.

He wanted to tell Ratchet that, to tell him he was sorry for all the awful things he’d said, but Ratchet was already on the other side of the ship, working on his next patient. Wheeljack looked back to find Sideswipe standing in front of him, regarding him with expectant optics. Sideswipe’s circuits were sparking badly; he was so overheated that just being near him caused Wheeljack’s own core temperature to climb several degrees.

There was no time to worry about Ratchet. He got back to work.

It was a losing battle. Many of the ‘Bots who’d first undergone repairs were now returning to the end of the line with fresh injuries, and by the beginning of the second joor, Wheeljack had begun to succumb to despair.

What’s the point? he thought bleakly. What good does it do if we’re still marginally functional when we all go offline? When the ship breaks apart and we’re vaporized by the sun?

That was when he knew it was hopeless.

Suddenly too weak to stand, he sank into a nearby seat. He looked around, peering through the haze of smoke from frying circuitry, and saw similar expressions of defeat on those gathered around him.

Hoist had already given up, and was huddled in Grapple’s arms. Optimus Prime’s helm was in his hands, his shoulder-struts slumped, his optics hidden from view. Off to his right, Inferno and Red Alert were clinging to each other, and towards the back of the ship he spied Hound and Mirage, locked together in a close embrace – but not so close Wheeljack couldn’t see the way they shuddered against one another, or the cables that discreetly connected them.

He politely averted his gaze.

A gentle hand fell on his shoulder-strut, and he looked up, his spark flaring with sudden hope – perhaps there was still a chance to tell Ratchet he was sorry – and found Trailbreaker gazing sorrowfully down at him.

“I guess this is it,” Trailbreaker said.

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess so.”

Trailbreaker shifted awkwardly, glancing around. Wheeljack noted his gaze passed over Hound and Mirage before coming back to rest on him.

“Feel like saying goodbye?” Trailbreaker asked.

His tone was light, almost casual, but the expression in his optics was practically pleading, filled with terrible loneliness and quiet desperation.

Shame burned through Wheeljack’s circuits, along with an inexplicable flare of embarrassment – he’d never been a fan of public interfacing – and as foolish as modesty seemed now, under the circumstances, Wheeljack couldn’t force himself to say what Trailbreaker so clearly longed to hear.

“I can’t,” he said, shaking his helm. “I...I’m sorry. I just…can’t.”

The look of hurt his words provoked was unbearable. He lowered his helm, hiding his face in his hands.

He didn’t see Trailbreaker’s anguished expression slowly shift into one of fierce resolve.

**

Trailbreaker had saved them all.

Just when it seemed all hope had been lost, when all else had failed and the ship had begun to break apart, Trailbreaker had activated his force field, encasing them in a shimmering globe of safety, shielding them from certain doom.

It was an audacious and impossibly heroic act, humbling to all who witnessed it.

Reenergized by sudden desperate hope, he and Ratchet had immediately rushed to the aid of the valiant mech, performing on-the-spot repairs as his overtaxed systems succumbed one by one to the phenomenal strain, striving to keep him functional, to keep the force field intact.

It might have all been for nothing – without the ship only Cosmos could lead them, and Cosmos’ navigation systems were still tied to Teletraan-1 – but then, inexplicably, he was freed.

Cosmos was quick to change his course to a new heading that would take them back to Earth, but as he did so a relay in one of Trailbreaker's elbow-joints gave way, emitting a brilliant flash of light that momentarily blinded them. As Ratchet moved to assess the damage, another flared out, and then another.

There were no words. No sound would carry in the airless void of space. Trailbreaker couldn't spare the energy to transmit even a short message over his comm, and Wheeljack and Ratchet were too busy fighting to stay one step ahead of his failing systems to waste time on small talk. The three 'Bots could sense the rapid flurry of signals flickering back and forth among those around them, but paid them no heed.

They were rapidly approaching the Earth, but Trailbreaker's systems were breaking down faster than they could repair them. Drained and damaged as they were by the earlier heat, he and Ratchet were beginning to falter, their efforts slowing as their energy reserves waned.

Trailbreaker suddenly stiffened and shuddered, a cascade of sparks bursting from his midsection, winking out instantly in the vacuum. Another vital connection had blown.

Optics widening in alarm, Wheeljack met his silent gaze. Strain and agony dominated Trailbreaker's expression, but in his optics Wheeljack saw only courage, unwavering conviction, and – to his surprise – trust.

Not yet, he thought desperately, shaking his helm in denial. Please, not yet. We’re almost there. Just hang on a little longer.

Recognizing his silent plea, Trailbreaker gave the faintest of nods.

Bolstered by his determination, Wheeljack resumed his efforts, repairing the damaged circuit.

**

They made it back to Earth, ragged, battered and depleted – but alive.

Universally inspired by Trailbreaker’s courage and selfless fortitude, they’d confronted the Decepticons head-on, pushing their pain and exhaustion aside to stand shoulder-strut to shoulder-strut, drowning their foes in a storm of laser fire.

Outnumbered and in disarray, the ‘Cons had had no choice but to withdraw.

The humans who had been enslaved by the Decepticons in their absence were freed – Chip, Sparkplug, Spike, the mayor and even Berger among them – and the Autobots returned to the Ark in triumph.

When they got back, Ratchet announced that Trailbreaker would be first in line for repairs. Not even Gears complained about the decision.

“Shouldn’t Optimus be the one to go first?” Trailbreaker protested as they led him to a repair berth. He’d stumbled just beyond the entrance of the Ark, falling to his knees, too depleted to stand. Wheeljack had helped him up, and together he and Ratchet had supported him as they made their way to the repair bay, flanking him on either side.

“Optimus will be fine,” Ratchet replied, his tone daring Trailbreaker to argue as he eased him onto the berth. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

Wheeljack didn’t miss the pointed look Ratchet aimed in his direction. Hot shame coursed through his circuitry. Bowing his helm, he turned to leave.

Trailbreaker caught hold of his hand, halting him. “Don’t go,” he said, his expression pensive. “Please? I…I’d like you to stay.”

Wheeljack looked at him, then at Ratchet.

Trailbreaker followed his gaze. “It’s all right if Wheeljack stays, isn’t it Ratchet?” he asked.

Ratchet rumbled irritably. “Fine, whatever,” he muttered.

Ratchet worked on Trailbreaker well into the night, ignoring his own injuries. He worked in silence, utterly focused on his task.

Throughout it all, Wheeljack remained at Trailbreaker’s side, offering what little comfort he could. It felt woefully inadequate after what Trailbreaker had done, after what Wheeljack had done to him, but Trailbreaker nevertheless clung to his hand as if it were the only solid thing left in the universe.

Finally, a mere handful of joors before dawn, Ratchet announced he could do no more. “Your regenerative systems will take care of the rest,” he told Trailbreaker. “I’m taking you off active duty for a couple days. Refuel and get some rest.”

“You got it, doc,” Trailbreaker replied, his vocalizer husky with exhaustion.

“I mean it,” Ratchet said, with a forbidding glare that Wheeljack sensed was at least partly directed at him. “Absolutely no strenuous activity, or so help me…”

“I’ll be good,” Trailbreaker replied with a weak chuckle, “I promise.”

Since Ratchet had given Trailbreaker the all-clear, Wheeljack helped him down off the berth, taking as much of the larger mech’s weight as he could bear onto his own shoulder-struts. Trailbreaker leaned on him heavily, betraying his exhaustion. Wheeljack’s hand was still gripped tightly in his own.

Wheeljack looked at Ratchet, intending to thank him, or perhaps offer some form of oblique apology, recalling his feelings of regret in that final, desperate moment when it seemed all hope had been lost –

The words died before he could utter them. Ratchet was glowering at him in obvious disapproval, barely-contained anger radiating off him in waves. There would be no forgiveness today.

He departed the repair bay with Trailbreaker in silence.


*Part 15 is here.*

Comments

[growlingturtlez.livejournal.com]

Oh, God I can't tell you how unbearably suspenseful this all is! Gah~! Somebody, please, do SOMETHING for SOMEBODY! I can't take it! *Explodes*

But seriously, awesome awesome awesome.

[laratron.livejournal.com]

*joins in the 'sploding*

I don't know how much more I can take! It is a wonderful agony, though. Please, please, please update soon! ^___^

[quidamling.livejournal.com]

*flails, joins the 'splody and takes away Wheeljack's damn shovel before he digs himself any fraggin deeper* DX Noooo! Mine! No shovel for you! Find a new toy, mech!

>.>;;

Sorry, um... coherency. Yes, still adoring this story. But, oh, Wheeljack. Poor Trailbreaker. And I think Ratchet is going to break something.

[faremyr.livejournal.com]

*love this story, love the plot, love you*

*lol*

[dvana.livejournal.com]

Wonderful, and hooray for trailbreaker's heroism being so well framed here. Loved it, but I agree with other reviewers: something's gotta give here. Thanks!

[vonderbarr.livejournal.com]

I was waiting for this episode to get referenced. Trailbreaker is just...well, he's great. He's a great guy. I hope Wheeljack doesn't break his heart. :(

And I loved that scene where Sparkplug started to put the pieces together. The humans aren't supposed to know, indeed. I lol'd.

Just another great chapter and I'm waiting for something to give!

[anon-decepticon.livejournal.com]

Looks around in surprise at all the exploding readers. What is this, a Michael Bay film? *shrug* I guess it's fitting, given that this is a fic about Wheeljack...

So the tension continues to rise and the cracks are starting to appear. Some things will be repaired in the next couple installments, while others will start to break down. I'm sorry for keeping you all in suspense - I hope the end result proves worth the wait!

[growlingturtlez.livejournal.com]

This comment made my night. Speaking of exploding Michael Bay films...
http://www.adultswim.com/video/?episodeID=8a2505951c8b78da011c9b70838100ac

[tiptoptile.livejournal.com]

I really enjoyed how you filled in the gaps for the Autobots in the episode. You get a shot of them headed into the sun and then you get a shot of them being saved through a force field and that's about it.

The fact that they showed such courage in the face of the inevitable as long as they did really makes them all the more heroic for me.

And I couldn't help but laugh as Sparkplug realized what was going on. Giant robots? Having romantic relationships? What?!

Wheeljack! Get in the corner!! Half of me really wants Ratchet to call him out on it, if only to stop Wheeljack from getting in too deep. It was already bad enough on the shuttle, but I forsee Wheeljack making it far worse if he's left unchecked.