Sparkling Troubles

Chapter 10

"Bee! Wanna wessle?"

"Yah, Smokey!"

Smokescreen jumped on top of Bumblebee and the two sparklings started to playfully kick and punch each other, all the while giggling and rolling around on the floor.

Suddenly, Bumblebee cried out. "Owie, dat hurt!"

The sparkling's screech had caught the attention of the rest of the Autobots, who were standing nearby. Optimus slowly walked over.

"Uh-oh," Smokescreen whispered.

"What is all the commotion?" Optimus asked quietly when he stood before the two.

"I ascidently scratched Bee, and he's leaking!" Smokescreen admitted.

Optimus looked toward the med-bay, where the medic was working. "Ratchet, might you be able to retrieve a mend-aid for me? We seem to have a wound." He looked back to a guilty looking Smokescreen. "Now, what do you say to Bumblebee?"

Smokescreen looked toward Bumblebee. "I'm sowwy."

Ratchet returned with a mend-aid and handed it to the Prime. Optimus knelt down and gently applied the adhesive bandage. "There. All better, right?"

"Mm-hmm," Bumblebee nodded, his eyes unfocused and staring off into space. Optimus sighed, and went to speak with Ratchet. He looked back to see Bumblebee staggering around, and Smokescreen following him with his vents wheezing heavily.

"Old friend, I know you are doing your best, but might there be a method to quicken the process of finding a solution to these problems?"

"I understand your impatience," Ratchet answered. "But I'm afraid I'm already working as fast as I can."

Optimus was about to answer, but he felt a small clang on his leg. Bumblebee had accidentally wandered too far over and ran into the Prime's large leg.

"Sowwy," Bumblebee shouted.

"That is quite all right, sparkling," Optimus answered softly. He noticed that Bumblebee was shivering. He reached down and picked him up and cradled him near his spark. The sparkling curled up to the heat resonating from the bio mechanism. Optimus's large finger found its way to Bee's tiny helm, rubbing a certain spot on the back. This earned a purr from the sparkling that made Optimus smile.

Ratchet's eyes scanned over the scene before saying, "You know, you could adopt them."

Optimus's eyes widened. "I- I couldn't do that." He put Bumblebee back on the floor, where the little bot started to shiver again. Optimus's spark ached, telling him to pick Bumblebee back up and give him warmth, but he wouldn't. Not after what Ratchet suggested.

Ratchet sighed and grabbed Bumblebee, putting him near his own spark instead. A few tricks of the medic, and the sparkling was deep in recharge. He lay Bumblebee down inside the crib.

"Sparklings' frames are weaker than ours. They are subject to nerve damage if temperature changes occur too suddenly," Ratchet lectured. "…Why won't you even consider adoption? You know they consider you a father."

"Yes, I know they do. But they didn't before. Not when they were… normal."

"They did, Optimus. More than you know."

Arcee witnessed the entire thing. As she sat down next to Smokescreen (who was now exploring his mouth with his hand), she began to think of what would happen in the future.

All that Smokescreen had known before joining the Autobots was training, and perhaps a semi-normal childhood with parents. Bumblebee, however, had been involved in the war since he could talk. All the mech had ever known was war and pain. Especially pain.

What would they do if (no, not if… when) they won the war? They wouldn't even know what a normal bot does for fun, or even how to go through normal situations. How would Bumblebee react to seeing a world he'd only seen in holograms?

"Cee? More 'happy air'?"

Arcee looked at the small mech leaning on her leg. His chassis was heaving. "Sure, sweetspark."

She walked into the med-bay and reached into the shelf of sparkling supplies. She grabbed a little bottle and held the open end to Smokescreen's mouth.

"Breathe in and hold it." She pressed the nozzle and a hissing noise reached her auditory sensors. After five seconds, she pulled it away.

Smokescreen obediently held his breath until Arcee gave him the 'ok' to let it out. "Dank you!" He ran off, his vents no longer struggling to suck in air.

The mechanism was one that Ratchet had invented specifically for Smokescreen's condition. Smokescreen's vents often close halfway, and occasionally fully. The device releases nanites that open back up the vents, allowing Smokescreen to vent normally.

A few hours later, it was time to recharge. Smokescreen was put in his crib and told 'good night'. Everyone went to their designated berthrooms, and Ratchet went to the med-bay to recharge with the sparklings.

In the morning, Arcee awoke to near-silence. Ah, she thought. It must be our lazy day. She exited her berthroom and knew that no one else would be up quite yet. However, as she walked over to the med-bay, she saw that Ratchet was already up. He was working on some unknown project and only acknowledged Arcee's presence with a tiny nod.

"Hey, Ratchet, can I ask you a question?"

"I am very busy," he replied, agitated.

"It's about the sparklings."

Ratchet immediately turned around and abandoned his work. "What is it?"

"Well, yesterday I was using the vent-nanites on Smokescreen and he seemed totally fine. But then, not even five minutes later, his vents closed up. Completely. We got it sorted out, but I can't help but feel like it's getting worse."

"Ah, I suspected this might happen."

"What?" Arcee asked.

"The maturing of his processor is using up more energon as he grows, and therefore his condition is becoming worse. I will have to work on that, as well."

He walked over to his desk and scribbled something down. Arcee walked up behind him and around his large frame. She saw a To-Do list about 17 feet long, with checkboxes covering every square inch, even filling in the margins. The one task that stood out to Arcee was this: help Bumblebee and Smokescreen. It was highlighted and circled and shrouded with every other attention-drawing marking. The only untouched spot was the painfully empty checkbox.

She placed her hand on his arm and said, "You're helping them as well as you can."

Ratchet just looked downcast and grumbled in response.

Hearing a noise come from Bumblebee's crib, Arcee walked over to it. She had expected to see him still sleeping, but to her surprise, he had woken up. He had his winged back facing her and was doing something with his face.

"Bee? What's up?" He turned to face Arcee, and she gasped. "R-Ratchet? Come here. Now."

"What? What is i- oh, my."

One of Bumblebee's optics was flickering.

Red.