June Darby [Being Human AU] (Transformers: Prime)

Chapter Twelve | Humanity

 "Every one of us is, in the cosmic perspective, precious. If a human disagrees with you, let him live. In a hundred billion galaxies, you will not find another."

~Carl Sagan, Cosmos   

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When Ratchet went to check on June for Jack's sake he found her right where she said she would be - on the flight deck, next to the Predacon kennels. The femme was in her beast mode, curled up with her optics shuttered and chest rising and falling slowly, perhaps in deep recharge. He was only slightly surprised by this; Jack had mentioned his mother was having difficulties adjusting, perhaps even coming to terms with what had happened to her. This mode was probably the most comfortable and natural state for her at the moment. The medic was no psychiatrist, but he could try to help her.

"June?" He called quietly. The woman stirred and opened her optics, shifting and transforming into her bipedal mode.

"Ratchet," she smiled, albeit tiredly. "Jack send you my way?"

"Yes," He carried with him his medical kit, unsure if she would have been willing to sit in Knock Out's medical bay or if she preferred remaining outside. "Would you be comfortable with a physical check-up?"

"Sure," she gave her consent, rubbing her helm. "But I feel that my issues are more mental. It's . . . hard to explain."

"Well, you can do your best to come up with something while I give you a once-over," the doctor set down his kit and opened it up, grabbing several tools before approaching her. The procedure was very similar to that of a pediatrician or family physician, with him checking out her optics and audio receptors while also taking notes on her spark and ventilation habits. Her energon levels were well-maintained, as the matured body did not have to go through the reservation process. 

June thought for a long time, trying to put what she was feeling into words. "I guess I'm . . . more confused than anything," she confessed. "It's like I have . . . three people in my head. Myself, Ripclaw, and some weird combination of the two."

Ratchet raised an optic ridge. "Ripclaw?"

"The . . . previous owner," the femme cringed a little. "Humans have this theory, well, it's a little more than just a theory now, that our memories are imbedded directly into our DNA. Humans who have had organ or tissue transplants sometimes report feeling the same cravings or emotions that the donor had felt. I think with Ripclaw, it's the same thing. Her CNA contains memories of who she was before the Great Cataclysm; and I wouldn't say she is . . . fully present in my mind. Just a sensation." She shook her helm. "God, I sound insane."

"Actually, you are making quite a bit of sense," Ratchet tinkered a little with a tool, making sure it worked before he began to inspect her armor for wear or tear. "Predaking, I believe, had something similar."

She nodded slowly. "Yes . . . I remember him telling me something like that."

The Autobot medic vented slowly. "What do you remember from your time as a Predacon, June?"

Her optics looked towards the ground. "I remember all of it," she whispered. "From waking up to falling into the Omega Lock, I know it all. It's fuzzy, though. Do you think it has something to do with how they treated my memories?"

"Possibly," Ratchet agreed. "If your retrograde memory circuits were inhibited, then they may have affected how you formed anterograde memories as well. Is that part of the problem?"