Night Patrole

The Burden of Leadership

Jack sat bolt upright in his cair, eyes wide, pulse racing. He looked around wildly and got his bearings. Raf and Miko were fast asleep. He checked his watch. Mom was at work still. He was in the base. It had just been another nightmare. They were alive, they were safe. It. was. A. dream. That's what he had to keep telling himself, several nights in a row now. He needed to go for a walk, get some fresh air, clear his head. So he started the trek to the elevator. Arcee had shown him one of the best spots for sulking on the roof. His slippers hissed on the concrete, and his flannel bathrobe warded off the night chill. The other kids had made fun of him when he had started to drift off in the recliner.

"You look like an old man!" giggled Miko, and Raph had made a comparison to his uncle

Fernando after thanksgiving dinner. Jack had almost made it to the elevator when Ratchet stopped him.

"Jeze kid, you look like slag warmed over." Jack winced. He had hoped that Ratchet would be too enthralled by his work, or at least too night blinded by the screen to notice his passing by.

"It's nothing Ratchet, im fine. Just need a little air is all." he turned to go.

"If i had a shannex for every time someone said 'im fine' to me when they are clearly lying, i would have enough money to bribe megatron into surrendering. Want to try that again Jack?" the old medic looked up from his work to eye the young boy critically. He was pale, and had bags under his eyes that were indicative of several nights with out rest. Ratchet had guessed something was off when the drone of snoring had cut short. Now he was sure of it. Jack shifted under the pressure of scrutiny.

"I had a bad dream. Just wanted to go get some fresh air, clear my head." Ratchet shook his head.

"If your headed to the spot on the roof, I've got a much better one. Good for thinking, just if I show you, promise you won't tell Arcee. If she knew, we'd never see her again." Jack sighed. Company wasn't what he wanted right now, but he knew that Ratchet would be relentless.

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed with a weary sigh. Ratchet transformed and opened his passenger door. "Get in kid. - and buckle your seatbelt." they were out of the base before Jack had to me reminded. Arce was his main mode of transportation, and motorcycles didn't have seatbelts. He sheepishly clicked the safety device into place. The pair drove in silence. Jack did not want to talk. And Ratchet knew when it was best not to push. This one was going to need finesse for sure. After a while, when the full moon was starting to descend in its orbital path, Jack finally spoke up.

"Is there actually a spot your taking me? Or am I stuck here till you drop below 60 and I can safely tuck and roll?" Jack crossed his arms and glared at Ratchet's steering wheel.

"Ease off the throttle boy. Not long now." Ratchet assured. He pulled off the road moments latter, and Jack was forced to grab the oh shit handle to keep steady, as the ride had become significantly rougher. After a minute and a half of shaky driving, Ratchet stopped rather suddenly. Jack was grateful for the seatbelt, it kept his face from smacking the dashboard.

"Ratchet what the heck?" he cried, indignant.

"Get, out were here." was all Ratchet said in reply. Jack's moccasins scuffed on loose sand as he surveyed the terrain. Ratchet had brought him to the edge of a vast cliff. A long dry river bed was at the bottom of the ravine, and here was nothing else for miles around. Just the stars, and the sand, and the perilous drop.

"I come here when I need to get faaaaar faaaaaaaar away from everyone, for their safety and mine. Also when I have to lob something off the cliff, but I always have to scrounge the bottom for the parts again later, because I still need them." Ratchet explained as he transformed and sat down, peds hanging off the edge. Jack sat down next to him, and ran his hands through his sleep mussed hair. The crisp cool desert night air felt good on his skin. The quiet dark was soft and gentle. Not at all like the sickly, claustrophobic, oppressing, darkness that chased him in his sleeping hours. He gripped the sand tight, grains slipping through his fingers. Ratchet noticed.

"Jack, what's eating at you. I want to help, but i can't if you don't talk to me." Jack let the tension out of his hand. Was he really that obvious?

"I've been having nightmares. Well, nightmare. More nights than not. And I can't wake up, can't snap out of it, not until it's over. It sucks." he admitted. It felt strange to let it out, to admit it. It felt- vulnerable. "In the nightmares, they win. The decepticons. They get optimus first. And then you. And then they make me watch. As Breakdown smashes Bulk to pieces. As Bee gets torn apart. As Arachnid tortures Arcee. As they kill Miko, and Raf. And then they make me watch as they kill my mother. And Megatron is there gloating the whole time. And it only stops i only wake up, when he decides to kill me." Jack was choking on the words by the end, and the sands by his hand were wet and salty.

"Easy there Jack, breath." commanded Ratchet, placing his palm behind jack, feeling the boys rapid heartbeat as he leaned into it. His story had dam near broken Ratchet's spark. How many times had he seen this now? From how meany? And still it hurt to watch. Despite their best efforts, there were some things that you just can't protect others from. Ratchet cursed the decepticons, the war, and themselves for letting children get involved. But he kept it to himself.

"It's a hard thing Jack, when our nightmares are not outside the possibility of reality. There is a term, that in my opinion, fits this phenomenon better. These bad dreams, these nightmares. We call them false recalls. Memories we are forced to live through, even though they didn't happen yet. And the longer this conflict draws on, the more I see it happen. And the more it hurts. To this date there are very few bots I have ever known who don't have these kinds of dreams." Ratchet sighed. Jack had collected himself.

"Optimus?" he guessed. Ratchet gave him a sad smile.

"No Jack. It might surprise you to hear, that Optimus suffers these kinds of dreams more often than most. I think that's why you are affected so badly. You and Optimus are one in the same. You are both leaders, you feel responsible for those around you. And the thought of being powerless as those people get hurt, it haunts you. The only thing that terrifies you more than your own death is watching the deaths of those you love. In a way that's a good thing." Jack looked at Ratchet with an expression of despair and confusion.

"How could these ever be a good thing?" he accused, his voice frustratingly weak. Jack felt like shouting, like screaming, like savagely ripping the stars from the sky, but all he could do was shake. Ratchet pulled the small teen into his cupped hands. Jacks gangly legs spilled out from beneath his fingers. He held him close to his own spark chamber.

"Jack tell me, what do you feel?" he asked, changing the subject.

Jack pressed his ear to the cool white plating. As with all bots, there was a hum of energy, a kind of warmth to Ratchet. It pulsed and swayed in a steady rhythm. Ratchet's was deep and heavy, not at all like Arcee's rapid staccato.

"I feel- I feel you Ratchet. I feel a steadfast beat. Strong, and supportive." Jack said.

"That is the beat of my spark. The very core of my being. Every bot alive has one. Every sentient being has one. Mine is quiet. Yours, like Optimus's, is loud. Not angry, not aggressive, but loud. The two of you are leaders Jack. And the people around you know that, on some level. And that is why these dreams are a good thing. Feeling responsible for someone means that you also love them. Megatron has a loud spark to, but he feels not the weight of responsibility. At least not anymore. So you think he has nightmares about losing anyone under his command? No. so let those dreams be a reminder to you Jack. A reminder that you have something that he does not, a reason to fight. People to keep safe. And you let that fuel your bravery, your mind, your heart. Let the things you care about guide your life."

Jack stared at the stars. There were millions of them, and he felt so wonderfly small in comparison. And it felt good. It felt good to have this raw part of himself exposed, and it felt good to know that others felt it to. And for a moment, in the company of someone who cares a lot more than they like to let on, Jackson Darby felt safe being vulnerable.

Ratchet walked into the base, Jack's long limbs draped over the edge of his hands. The teen had had fallen asleep at some point during the drive back. Outside the moon had set, and it wouldn't be long before the pink dawn warmed he sands of the Nevada. But for now Ratchet would let the base sleep. For now, the kids could rest. He gently tucked Jack into the space between Miko and Raph. Even in his sleep it seemed that having them close put him at ease. The snoring had stopped. And the twitching, and the overthinking. At least for now.