Transformers Prime: The Road Back Home

Existential Crisis

Present Day

Summer's POV

I really had no idea that Wheeljack was around, most of the other's had gone, but it didn't bother me. All I knew was that Ratchet was around and that was more than enough for me. I found just his simple presence oddly comforting even though he pretty much hated everybot in the place, besides Optimus of course. I leaned against the wall that held the balcony aloft, just beside the computers Ratchet stood at. My optics were closed and I listened to him mumble to himself and tap at his computer. Occasionally he would pause with what he was doing and there would be a small bout of silence, besides the sounds of him venting slowly. I had nearly fallen into recharge when my audio receptors suddenly picked up pedesteps, heavy and slow. In my half online state, I fell into a panic quickly, my processor immediately jumping back to the day's on the Nemesis when I heard the heavy pedesteps just like these ones. My servos jumped to my neckline, searching for the telltale collar and I swore I heard chains and a deep chuckle, pushing me further into my hysteria to get away. My frame began to shake uncontrollably as I let out a cry, my optics refusing to online, causing my panic to deepen. I heard a quiet voice that seemed to be muffled and it didn't sound like the bot that I thought it would, this voice was gentle and soothing. I suddenly felt a servo touch my shoulder plate, a strong arm wrapping around my chassis; it didn't feel menacing, or hot or hungry like I remembered, it was such a delicate touch, like I was such a fragile thing. My optics finally onlined and my shaking servos covered my dermas quickly, stopping any other cries that came from my body. I looked toward the bot that had his frame close to mine, recognizing the color scheme. Red and orange and white and a little bit of grey here and there. I could feel my spark racing in my chassis and I thought I was going to offline until my audio receptors started to finally process sound again.

"Breathe. You're alright. You're safe with me, nothing here can hurt you, nothing here has any malicious intent towards you. Just take a moment, you're doing good." I felt lubricants come to my optics as the flashback passed and the shock set in. I looked up to see a confused Wheeljack standing at the end of the room, staring and then slowly turning and leaving. I looked at Ratchet again, making contact with the cyan blue optics that I knew decently well. His optics were firm and held trust and a hint of his medic instincts kicking in. I managed to stay where I was for a mere moment but it wasn't long before I stood up quickly, instantly becoming light headed. I could hardly alert Ratchet that my systems were about to go offline but he seemed to know just naturally, an arm wrapping around my waist and another holding me between my backstruts. I couldn't really understand exactly what he was saying but they were encouraging words- calm and gentle -before I my systems finally offlined.

Wheeljack's POV

Summer's optics were filled with panic and terror as she looked at me. Ratchet was already moving toward her and I made to go, but stopped when I heard a sob escape her dermas. I stopped and looked in her direction again, finding that she stood up and slowly fell limp in Ratchet's arms. The medic and I made contact for a moment before I started in their direction. I helped the medic bring her to the nearby medical berth, placing her down gently.

"I'm glad to see she's gaining some of her muscle mass back." Ratchet pointed out, flashing a light quickly into her optics. I stared at the femme as he pulled away, admiring her body and looking her up and down.

"Does she freak out like that a lot?" I asked, leaning up against the counter, crossing my arms over my chassis.

"No, actually. Not until you arrived." I chuckled for a moment but realized halfway that he wasn't quite joking.

"What do you mean, 'not since I arrived'?"

"She doesn't have an issue with anyone else. Even Optimus's stature and build doesn't bother her. You remind her of Megatron." Ratchet replied bluntly, gazing at the femme like one would with an ex-girlfriend they wish they still had.

"I remind her of Megatron? We're complete opposites!" I exclaimed harshly, throwing my servos in the air with exasperation. Ratchet simply glanced at me and raised an optic ridge, a frown appearing on his dermas.

"I'm not explaining anything to you, all I'm asking is that you stay away from her. She's not yours to have whenever you please and if you lay one single digit on her frame I'll cut your T-cog out, boil it down 'till it melts and make you eat it, got it?" He growled at me, flicking his wrist to gesture me out of the med bay. I walked out and sneered to myself, this was ridiculous. A war was traumatizing, yes, but it didn't give you flashbacks and enforce your mind to refuse to make friends or even have a frag buddy, or two. And just the mention of Megatron being equally compared to me? Don't even get me started, he was one of the worst leaders the Decepticons had in a long time, not only was he clever but he was willing to shove everything out of the way to get what he wanted. I wasn't anything like that, sure I was clever and I knew my way around inventing things and making bombs but there was no way I'd push my own teammates away just to get what I wanted. I didn't really endanger anyone, except for that one time I took Miko around with me, and when I was trying to frag up Dreadwing, or when I was at least attempting to kill Predaking but I wasn't anything like Megatron. I, well, I sometimes listened to authority and- and. . . Slag, am I really just like Megatron?