3. Family (A TFP Fanfiction)

Chapter 4

"On behalf of the President and the joint chiefs, I thank you all for your selfless heroism in defense of this planet," Agent Fowler said as he lifted his hand to salute. "I'm only sorry the world can't know of your undying dedication, because I, for one, owe you my life, my liberty, and my future."

I forced a little smile at his speech, a warm feeling I couldn't identify buzzing in my chest. I could feel the Autobots all smiling around me from where I was huddled. Ratchet was holding me closely against his chest chassis with both servos, the digits hugging me carefully. It made it a bit difficult to actually see the Agent, but I could sense how genuine he was being. Ultra Magnus, the mech who had rescued me and currently the only one who could come near me without terrifying me besides my guardian, turned to their leader, the new and improved Optimus Prime.

"Sir, I am honored to relinquish the command of the Autobots to you," he said, a hint of a tiny smile teasing his derma.

Optimus' derma twitched up slightly at the commander. "Ultra Magnus, I welcome you to Earth. And to Team Prime."

"Okay, someone's gotta say it," Miko jumped in. "Optimus 2.0 is RAD!! Imagine what the forge could do for your bod!" she exclaimed to Ratchet.

While this earned a snicker from the kids, and even some of the Autobots, Ratchet merely scoffed and rolled his optics. My reaction remained inside me, like it was unable to penetrate my shell. It made me a bit depressed, and I looked up to the medic sadly as his optics turned over to the Forge, which was leaning against a wall of our new base.

"Is it true that it has been depleted of its power?" he asked solemnly. He sighed when Smokescreen and Optimus nodded. "Then any hope of restoring Cybertron is truly lost."

"I... did what I felt was right," Smokescreen said quietly, gazing down at the floor.

Ratchet offered him a hint of a smile. "And your instincts again have proven to be quiet sound."

The younger mech's face lit up. "Yeah!" he cried, pumping a fist, and earning quite a few laughs from some of the other Autobots and kids.

Ratchet kept his own smirk to himself as he turned and once again headed for the monitors. My eyes gazed at them, feeling a bit sad that they weren't the same ones as before. None of this really was. It had been quite a few days since my rescue and the Decepticons defeat, and shortly after Agent Fowler had found a new base for the team. While the warriors worked on some rebuilding, my Guardians was tirelessly working on setting up the mainframe, GroundBridge controls, commlink systems, and such other tech that was needed for their missions. Though he had been busy, he had never allowed me to once leave his side, at the very least keeping me in servo reaching distance.

Such things comforted me.

Though on the inside I was still terrified. What Shockwave had done to me was hard to reverse. Any Autobot that approached me that wasn't Ratchet I would back away from on instinct. Fear would involuntary fill my chest, and there had been one time that I had screamed. This had left extreme concern hovering over all the others, including the humans. Nurse Darby and Ratchet constantly fretted over me, trying to find ways to ease my fear. It was especially hard since I was, once again, emotionally detached.

My spark was yet another problem. Every day the aches grew worse. But how was I supposed to tell them? They were already so worried over me, and while I appreciated it, I greatly hated that their attention was all on me. It made me feel shameful, since they had so many other more important things to focus on. Telling them my spark was dying.. that I could possibly die with it... it was too hard to say. I couldn't even try, for fear of what would happen to them and me.

So much fear.

I sighed in Ratchet's servo as he let one stray away from me to type, his optics focused on the screen. Swallowing at a swell of pain from my arm, I pulled out a journal. It was plain white and orange, much like my guardian's colors. Nurse Darby has chosen it for that reason, hoping the familiar colors would calm me and allow me to write every thing I need to say in there. She figured it would be a good way to cope, and hopefully help me with my fears and emotions in the long run. I sighed again as I took a pencil out of my pocket and opened it up.

Day 3

I don't really know what to write in here when I first start. I say that every time, don't I? But I really don't. Yet, once I start, it's like I can't stop. I guess I am grateful to Nurse Darby for giving this to me. I guess I really do need it. And I do like it.

So what is there to say? Our base is pretty much set up now, I guess. It's been busy, but it's a good break from the Decepticons. Though, I have to admit, I doubt it will be very long before their activity is on the rise again, and once more we will be thrown into war.

Geez, as I wrote "Decepticons" a shiver went up my spine. They terrify me so much. It's ridiculous, but I can't make it go away. I hate it. I hate them. And I hate that it makes me afraid of my friends. My family. Despite all the hard things I've been through, I love them. And yet I'm afraid of them.

What is wrong with me?

You know, I never asked to be shoved in the middle of this war. I never wanted it. But there's no way I can back out now. And you know what? I don't really want to. I know that sounds stupid. I've been hurt more than a normal person would have in two lifetimes while staying with the Autobots... but I can't bring myself to leave. Even now, when I'm so traumatized it's hard to get near any of them other than Ratchet, I still love them and want to stay. I think the other kids feel the same.

I hope they do.

And then there's Ratchet. When I'm too far away from him, I'm about ready to have a panic attack. When I'm near him, I feel calmed. And pain. Whenever I'm near him, it's like my spark wants to explode.

It's probably because I love him so much.

I've realized that this isn't just some crush. It's gone way beyond that at this point. I love him with every ounce of my being, and I want to be his.

But because I've blocked my spark from him (because I don't want him to feel how hurt my spark is, and discover that it's dying) I don't know how he feels about me.

He probably doesn't return these feelings...

I write about him every time, don't I?

I just-

With a sharp gasp, my attention was drawn away from my journal. My body started to shake violently, the pencil dropping from my open hand. I stared straight ahead at nothing as agony racked every inch of my being. I wanted to scream at the pain, but no sound would come out of my gaping mouth. My breaths stopped short, but I still tried to breathe, my chest heaving in and out, but to no avail. Dots filled my vision as panic set in, and I kicked and thrashed, trying to tell someone to help me. As everything began to swim, I felt Ratchet jolt and hold me out. I could faintly hear him calling me name, but then there was only silence.

Silence and darkness.

And as I floated closer to what I knew was death, I felt two things.

Relief.

And panic.

Ratchet....

~

Heh....