Ratchet tapped away at his keyboard, enjoying the silence of the base. Perhaps he should work at night more often, where the others couldn’t bother him. Now, he could actually get something done for once. It was odd that he didn’t feel tired as he did when he first went into power down, he chalked it up as a boost of energy following a bad dream. His old spark had yet to slow back down.

    When the clock ticked one, Ratchet held his breath, looking around. 

    Nothing happened.

    There was no ghost to warn him of his chains.

    It felt silly to be relieved, but he was. Ratchet sighed, shutting off the monitor. It would be best to go back to bed, and sleep off this ridiculousness. His conscience was simply playing tricks on him, he was feeling guilty for his behavior, nothing more. There were no ghosts, no spirits, and no chains. 

As he turned to make his way down the hallway, a servo rested on his shoulder, stopping him. His energon ran cold, and he swallowed dryly. His spark just about stopped.  

    Slowly, Ratchet turned on his heel, dreading what he would see.

    Instead of a malicious entity, a Decepticon like Dreadwing or Skyquake, he was met with kind blue optics and a bright smile. 

    Orion Pax stood before him, shimmering in his own soft, yellow glow. He was small and friendly looking, appearing as he had before he had received the upgrades and the Matrix. “Hello, Ratchet.” He said with a polite smile. “I am the Spirit of the Past.”

    “You’re the ghost that’s going to haunt me?” Ratchet said in disbelief. “You’re hardly a ghost.”

    “I am a relic of the past, an especially important one to you.” The archivist watched him with his big, perceptive optics. “I’ve come to explore your past with you, to find where in your life you changed to the mech you are now.” 

    “And what is the point of that?” Ratchet crossed his arms over his chest. 

“I will show you, my friend.” A servo was extended to him, palm facing the ceiling. 

    Hesitantly, Ratchet took his hand.

    Their surroundings lightened into their own yellow glow, crumbling into dust around them and leaving plain light behind. Ratchet gasped as the floor vanished from beneath them, leaving them floating in air. “This is fragging crazy,” Ratchet sputtered. “Where are you taking me?”

    “Cybertron.” Orion answered, as the glow became blinding. Ratchet closed his optics.

    When he opened them, they were standing on a path, surrounded by glowing blue crystals. Ratchet’s optics widened, and he couldn’t resist a wide smile. “Oh, the crystal gardens, I’ve missed these.” He sighed, reaching out to touch one gently. He looked up at the brilliant Cybertron sky, and the tall buildings that nearly touched it. 

    “You used to come here to study.” Orion stood in the middle of the path, watching him. “This is where I would come to find you. You’d be preparing for your medical exams, and I would bring you energon.” He moved down the path, leading the way. “At that bench, right over there.” His optics sparkled in a mischievous way. “It was also your favorite place to meet.” He pointed, and Ratchet followed his gaze.

    A younger version of him was seated on a bench, beside a lit fountain, laughing heartily and rather flirtatiously as a mech juggled rocks before him, showing off. 
   
    “You attracted the most interesting characters.” Orion nudged him with his elbow. “Do you remember this?”

    Ratchet sighed, watching his younger self blush and smile. “I do. Out of all my old flings, this one was one of my favorites.” 

    His younger self stood up and embraced the mech, pecking him on the lips, and bidding him farewell. “You were so charming.” Orion said fondly. “You had a way of earning the hearts of those around you.” The younger Ratchet parted ways with the mech, striding down a path, humming happily. Orion took Ratchet’s servo, and pulled him along, and they followed him, a fair distance behind. 

    The younger Ratchet was humming happily, striding with a certain bounce in his step. He passed a figure huddled on the ground, and stopped, backtracking. The figure was an old, rickety mech, shoulders hidden under a tattered cloak. He looked up at Ratchet, blinking dull, worn eyes. “You look like you could use a reason to smile.” The younger Ratchet smiled warmly, digging around in his subspace. He pulled out a small pouch of credits, placing them in the mech’s shaky servo. “There’s enough in there to get some warm energon, and maybe a new blanket to keep you cozy at night.”

    “Primus bless your kindhearted soul,” the mech rasped, smiling. Tears had come to his optics. 

    Ratchet watched his younger self walk off, resuming his humming. “You were so happy.” Orion observed. “What happened to this generous, happy mech?”

    “Scrap happens.” Ratchet muttered. 

    “You don’t sing while you work, or dance with Optimus like you used to.” Orion continued. “Where did your light go?”

    “I don’t know, Pax.” The medic looked away, not bothering to hide his irritation.

    “Well, let’s take a look.” 

    The world dissolved into the bright yellow glow once again, disappearing around them. When new surroundings formed around them, they were much louder and more intense than the serenity of the crystal garden. They landed in a rowdy bar, where drunken mechs shouted and waved around their cubes of engex. 

    Ratchet flinched as a wasted mech tripped and crashed down, cracking a table in half. “I remember this place.”

    “This way,” Orion took his arm and led him through the crowd.

    “Can they see us?”

    “No,” the archivist shook his helm. “We are ghosts to them as I am to you.” 

    They crossed the bar, weaving through the chaos, until they found the one quiet corner of the building. Ratchet’s spark clenched. 

    Four mechs sat at a booth, laughing and drinking together. Orion Pax, Ratchet, Megatronus, and Soundwave, a group of friends that had swore to make change together. The younger Ratchet’s arm was draped around Orion’s shoulders, and they were sitting very close together. “We had just gotten together.” The real Ratchet murmured. Megatronus appeared to be wrapping up a speech.

    “-so down with the senate!” He raised his drink. The other three did the same.

    “Down with the senate!” They all yelled in agreement. 

    “An end to the oppression, freedom to those in shackles, and the ability to choose one’s destiny.” Megatronus took a long swing of his engex. 

    A burly mech came clomping over at their raised voices. “What a joke, a bunch of nobodies thinking they could make a difference,” he snarked, words slurring. “I’ve seen copy machines with more authority than you. What’s a bunch of little whiners gonna do about our leadership?” He was swaying on his pedes, laughing at his own humor.

    “How many fingers am I holding up?” The younger Ratchet joked, holding up two digits. His Orion shushed him.

    “I outta sock you right in your smartaft mouth.” The mech raised a fist, leaning at the change in balance. 

    “Do you know which one of me to hit?” The younger Ratchet fired back. 

    The mech snarled and lunged for the table, but didn’t get far. Megatronus had risen from his seat, and caught him by the collar. He wound back, before delivering one strong punch, head on in the face. The mech stumbled back, slamming into another table and crumbling, unconscious. 

    Everyone around them froze, optics locked on Megatronus. He brushed his chestplates off, and smiled. “I’ll have what he had.”

    Those watching chuckled, turning back to their business. Megatronus sat back down, raising an optic ridge. “Do you cause bar fights often?”

    The younger Ratchet shrugged, laughing. 

    Orion Pax, the spirit, turned to the real Ratchet. “I don’t see any bitterness here. Shall we keep looking?”

    Ratchet frowned. “I see what this is building up to, and I don’t want to see it.” He sighed as their surroundings disappeared again.

    This time, they were in the middle of a dark street. There was shouting.

    “Please, Megatronus, I didn’t mean-”

    “You’re pathetic, that was your plan the whole time, wasn’t it?! To make me seem like a monster, so you could steal my opportunity! You’re a cowardly, insignificant archivist, how dare you take this from me!?” 

    Ratchet and Orion stood behind the younger Ratchet, who watched helplessly as Megatronus shouted at his former friend.

    “It’s not too late, you can still make a difference,” Orion Pax sputtered, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, I swear.”

    “No, I’m done doing this their way. This has to be done by force, and I am right for the challenge.” The gladiator thrusted a finger in Orion’s face. “You stay out of my way. It’s over.” 

    “No, you can’t, that’s not right, violence isn’t the answer,” the archivist pleaded. 

    “What do you know, you’ve been riding my coattail this entire time, just waiting to sabotage me. Did Trion teach you to be a little manipulative-”

    “Megatronus, stop, he didn’t mean for this to happen,” the younger Ratchet cut in, moving to stand at his partner’s side. “You have to think this through more carefully, you have to listen to reason.”

    “No, what I need to do is cut you leeches off of my back.” Megatronus hissed, turning on his heel and storming off. “You’re little more than parasites, and I was wrong to think that you were anything but.” 

    Orion made to follow, but Ratchet stopped him, shaking his helm. The archivist turned and wept into his partner’s chest, shoulders trembling. “I suppose it was then, that everything changed.” The real Ratchet murmured. “Megatronus went too far. In my eyes, this is the moment the war started. I never really had a reason to be as happy as I once was, after that.” 

    The spirit accompanying him took his servo. “Come. My time with you is drawing to an end.” He smiled warmly at him. “Expect the next ghost at the stroke of two.” 

    For the last time, the world crumbled into the pale glow, only this time, Ratchet woke in the medbay. His back ached miserably from recharging on the workbench. “Orion?” He looked around the dark base, rubbing the sore plating. 

    The spirit was no more.