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Unexpect Side Effects

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Optimus Prime sits stiffly on the medical berth wide cyan optics staring in disbelief at the mirrored piece of metal he holds in front of him, the intensely bright light of his exposed spark reflected in its polished surface.


“I-I’m… but-but… I can’t be…” Optimus stammers, unable to complete a full sentence with his CPU threatening to shut down at what he sees. “I-I just came to see you because my plates felt irritated and-and my spark felt strange… how-how in the pit…”


Swallowing his rising irritation, Ratchet takes several deep drafts through his vents before pushing ahead. Speaking as plainly and patiently as he can manage he asks. “So who’s the lucky mech?”


Blinking owlishly the young Prime stares in shock at the elder mech. Primus help me if he crashes on me, Ratchet grouses. Slapping a hand over his face plates and roughly dragging it down Ratchet fights to maintain his rapidly dwindling patience. “Who have you recently shared a berth with Prime? It’s that simple. There are only 3 other bots here besides myself so -”


“I… what? No! Primus Ratchet they’re my friends, my team mates! How could you even suggest such a thing like that?” The young Prime snaps indignantly, slamming the polished piece of metal down onto the medical berth with a loud ringing clang.


“Well that didn’t just appear on its own. It takes two you know.” Ratchet grumbles, jabbing a red finger at the well-established newspark sitting snuggly against the corona of the young mech’s much larger spark, a thick tendril of energy anchoring it in place. Below the spark rests the fine, barely discernable beginnings of a protoform, made up of spider webbed strings of metal and wire filaments. By reflex Optimus’ hands snap up to protect the newspark.


“I know that Ratchet.” Optimus growls, temper briefly flaring. “It’s just… I’ve never. I mean I haven’t even… How could this happen?” Staring down at his hands cupping over his spark the young mech struggles to keep his mind on track. Too many why’s, how’s and what if’s threatening to clog up his cortex.


“Honestly Prime you can tell me. I promise on my spark I won’t say anything to the others, but the sire deserves to at least know about it.” Ratchet pushes in hope of having who ever sired the newspark around might help settle Optimus down at least a little. Ratchet knows Optimus isn’t the type to just let anyone get close, so they would have to seriously mean something to him to let them get close enough to go this far.


Blue fists slam into the medical berth with a loud metal bang. “For the last time Ratchet. I haven’t shared with anyone! Ever!” Optimus grinds out, denta bared and optics blazing with barely repressed frustration and annoyance.


“Alright, alright calm down, calm down. Whatever is going on here we’ll sort it out.” Waving a hand in a gesture for calm Ratchet moves over to his equipment cupboards digging out a specialized scanner he thought he’d never use with this team. “This will tell me what’s what. For all we know being revived by the Allspark and the recent damage you copped from that Allspark powered weapon Megatron hit you with could have caused a spark split. It’s been known to happen with the type of spark trauma you’ve experience of late.” Plugging the device into a screen he discreetly pulls up the spark signature of every known Cybertronian on earth, including Decepticons, from the old achieves. “We’ll know soon enough.”


Optimus doesn’t like the tone Ratchet uses, but remains perfectly still. Swiping the extended wand over the rapidly pulsing tiny newspark he waits for the results. Blinking, optics comically wide, the medic looks from the screen to the pensive looking young mech and back again.


“No, no that can’t be right.” Ratchet mumbles to himself, swiping the wand again he receives the same results. Three more swipes don’t change the information displayed on the screen, much to the elders growing discomfort.


“Ratchet, what is it? Ratchet?” Optimus pleads, hands gripping tightly to the edges of the berth the elder medic’s behavior scaring him more that he’d like to admit. Hanging his head Ratchet slowly turns the screen to show Optimus the display.


Optimus swore his spark stopped for a few seconds as he stares at the display. Marked in red, blue and purple are listed the energies found within the newspark’s signature. His, a small portion of the Allspark and…


“No…No, no nonoNO! That’s-this can’t be right! No it’s wrong! It must be a mistake! It’s impossible! I can’t… I-I never… Oh, Primus…” Both layers of his chest plates abruptly snap shut as his arms wrap tightly around himself and hunching over in an aborted attempt to deny what he is carrying. Ratchet’s belated attempt at comfort as he tries to touch the younger’s shaking shoulder is roughly shaken off.


Turning the screen off Ratchet tries to stay level headed for at least one of them and to keep things calm. “I’m sure there’s an explanation for this kid. It’s just coming up to a deca-cycle old so that gives us a time frame to review things see how it could have happened. It ain’t that bad-“


“Not that bad? Not that BAD?!?! I’m carrying the sparkling of the Decepticon War Lord Megatron himself! How can it be NOT THAT FRAGGING BAD?!?!” Optimus bellows in rage, leaving Ratchet more than grateful he’d sound proofed the med bay walls. If he didn’t know better Ratchet swore by the look in the young mech’s optics that he would be pounded into the ground if he didn’t watch his words. Optimus may be a relatively quiet and calm young mech, but when set off he is something not to be trifled with, especially in the unstable state he was currently in. Backing away Ratchet waves his hands in the air in a placating gesture.


“I didn’t mean it that way, alright? Just, calm down, take a few deep vents and calm down. Look it’s still very early in development. You have options. I’ll dig up some files for you to read so you can decide what you want to do… I’ll understand if you don’t want to carry it, considering its code contributor, if you want I can discreetly terminate it now -“, “NO!” Before Ratchet could move Prime is off the berth, frame shaking and blue hands clasped over his chest and backing towards the med bay door.


“Now, Prime wait. I didn’t say I was gonna do it now! Just that it’s an option for the future, nothing has to be deci-“ Optimus is out the door before the medic gets to finish. Great... just great… Prime’s carrying and he just flipped a logic circuit… just what I need, Ratchet grumbles hurriedly chasing after the bolting mech.


“Prime! PRIME! This is ridiculous! Get your aft back here!” Ratchet yells, lumbering after the larger mech but with his superior speed and youth Optimus has already transformed and left base. Growling in rage, spark heavy with growing concern Ratchet turns to see Prowl, Bulkhead, Bumblebee and Sari staring at him in confusion.


“Uh, Ratchet what in the pit was that?” Bumblebee asks looking from the medic to the open entry way of the base where their leader just made a harried departure.


“Don’t just stand there gawking! We need to find him and fast. Get moving!” All of them stand blinking at the angered medic, not one showing any signs of moving. “Uh… why?” Bumblebee innocently asks. Yelping the yellow mini-bot reels back, hands cupping protectively around Sari when the larger medic charges up to him, optics blazing.

“Cause I said so! NOW MOVE IT!” That barked order finally sees all the bots transforming and tearing off in different directions in search of their wayward leader.