REMEMBER ME

"The villains and the heroes are merging,

Everything is blurry,"

⬵⤁

"Ratchet, truly, I'm fine," Jack protested, but relented with a huff as he was forced to turn in the medic's palm. The whirs and clicks of Ratchet's optics zooming into focus were the only sounds made for a few breaths, the medic taking several quick bio-scans to ensure all was well. Unsurprisingly, Jack's fragile surface capillaries had burst in several places, resulting in multiple contusions due to trauma. There were some places that matched up a little too perfectly with the location of digit joints, Ratchet cringing with guilt. It appeared that the medic had squeezed a little too hard at least once or twice.

"I need to ensure everything is in working order," he answered Jack once his scans were complete, finally leaning back and silently signaling that it was alright for the human to drop his shirt back into place. "You would not be the first patient to brush off a major injury or concern."

"Am I the first that you threw in the air?" Jack asked, unable to mask some of the bitterness in his voice. There had been a few times the human had become airborne, but each time was by accident - not because an Autobot intentionally sent him flying.

The older 'bot sighed, the rush of air accompanied by the quiet whoosh of his pistons shifting. "The situation called for . . . seemingly drastic measures," he explained, "Megatron was not going to let you go, and throwing you through the Groundbridge was completely out of the question; I could almost guarantee you would not survive. As for throwing you into the air, I needed a distraction, and it worked. I would not have done it had I thought there to be another option, Jack."

His logic was sound and the human knew it, though he could not completely shake the feeling of betrayal. The Autobots swore to keep their human charges out of danger, not to take risks with their lives. But, with a choice between getting Jack killed or almost killed, he grudgingly admitted the latter was the better option. And Ratchet had paid for the deception dearly, though he was quick to brush off any concerns about his own well-being. Apparently Megatron's punches looked more painful than they felt.

"So . . . what now?" Jack asked, standing on Ratchet's servo. "We just wait for Megatron or one of the other Decepticons to come back and start coming up with ways to make us talk?"

"Make me talk," Ratchet looked down at him. "You are only here as insurance that I do so. I'm not sure what methods he intends to use, but knowing the lord of the Decepticons it could be many things. And with Starscream gone rogue, I am sure it will be a much more personalized experience."

"Starscream was in charge of interrogations?" Jack raised an eyebrow.

"If only because he could keep the prisoners alive longer than Megatron ever has."

Oh.

Jack grit his teeth. "Ratchet, the Autobots need you. No matter what happens, you have to - "

"No, Jack. No matter what happens, you will not say anything," Ratchet's voice became steely, almost seeming to glare at the young man. "Megatron will try to manipulate you, twist you into either giving in or leading to my own demise. He already has his foot in the door, and he will continue to pry it open if you allow him. The Autobots may rely on me as their medic, but that does not mean they are incapable of taking care of themselves. Your safety is my prerogative, and that means keeping the others safe as well - regardless of what happens to me."

His throat was beginning to dry. Ratchet was so certain Megatron would target him, and him alone, but he had not been there when Jack, Miko, Raf, and the other Autobots set out to rescue Agent Fowler. Starscream had discovered a method of torture that preserved the fragile humans - an energon shock prod - long enough to begin to pry information out of them. It would come as no surprise if Starscream had shared this approach with either Megatron directly or in the Nemesis databanks for future use.

What would Ratchet do then?

"No matter what, we're in this scrap heap together," Jack pointed out. "So why don't we both promise each other to not say anything?"

"Easier said than done, should Megatron opt to use the cortical psychic patch," if Ratchet had a nose it would have wrinkled, "but given he has a . . . particular aversion to anything related to memory-work I would not put it past him to use it as a last resort."

Jack raised an eyebrow. Megatron, afraid of something? "What does the leader of the Decepticons have against a patch?" He asked. It was bizarre to think there was anything other than death - or losing to Optimus Prime - that made the warlord think twice.

"Not so much a cortical psychic patch as mnemosurgery," Ratchet glanced down and saw the young man's confused look. "Direct memory manipulation. The only equivalent I can really think of is your human neurosurgeons, but the procedure leaves minimal scars and the equipment allows for access to a Cybertronian's memory banks. Once there, the surgeon can then either observe passively, delete memories, or create new ones."

The human shuddered violently. "That's . . . terrifying." He admitted.

"Indeed. I have seen only a handful of procedures in my life, and after seeing many of them go wrong I have lost my taste for the practice," the medic agreed. "I suspect Megatron had Shockwave develop the cortical psychic patch in order to have a minimally invasive form of mnemosurgery."

"Yeah, but . . . why?" Jack realized Ratchet had avoided the question somewhat. "Why not just . . . do things the old-fashioned way?"

"Because many 'bots knew how to not break under interrogation," Ratchet answered morbidly. "And because Megatron does not want his own memory circuits to be tampered - as mnemosurgery can go both ways if the surgeon is not careful. From what I understand, the Cybertronian Senate attempted to Shadowplay him while he was still a miner. The trauma has remained - "

"Sorry, but, Shadowplay?" Jack interrupted.

Ratchet shot him an annoyed look, but sighed when he realized the human could not possibly know what that meant.

"It is a form of mnemosurgery that was used to . . . alter the personalities of those the Senate considered enemies," the medic shuttered his optics. "They called it 'personality adjustment,' but truthfully it was to silence any opposing voices against the Functionalist society we lived in. Megatron was one of many who fought against the caste system and the Functionalist ideals, and he was one of few that did not become silenced."

Jack stared at the Cybertronian, the horror of the implications of such a procedure dawning on him. Governments, he was well aware, were always participating in morally questionable operations, but for some reason the idea that Cybertronians could be as sick and twisted as even the worst of humans did not settle right with him. It was not that he was unaware that evil existed - Megatron was an ever recurring presence after all - it was the fact there was darkness present even before the war that was unnerving.

Humans, he could understand, were evil creatures. They fought wars all the time, and in all of recorded history only maybe a total of 100 years of peace persisted. Every other time someone was fighting someone else. But Cybertronians . . . from what he could tell of their history, they were at peace long before Megatron rose up and attempted his violent takeover. To think they participated in such vile acts was gut-wrenching.

"Was that what was so bad about Cybertron, why Optimus and Megatron tried to change it?" He asked.

Ratchet looked down at him, his lip plates thinning ever so slightly. He often forgot just how truly young Jack was - he had just recently turned seventeen - and how little he knew of Cybertronian history. Ratchet nor any of the other Autobots really thought to stop and tell them what was going on; it had always been "Decepticons must be stopped." And even how the war started was glossed over, as Ratchet had been in a bit of a rush to tell his story and then monitor the Autobot frequency for when they were ready for pick-up.

"It . . . is a little more complicated than that," he admitted. "To put it simply: in the functionalist society, you were born with your function. Medics were medics, archivists were archivists, construction workers were construction workers. If you attempted anything else, you were punished. And on the rare occasion you seemingly had no purpose . . . you were scrapped for spare parts."

Jack gulped, his blue eyes wide.

"For those born into the higher castes, they had a much more privileged life, and even a little leeway as to the types of functions they could perform. Those in the lower castes, well, I am sure you can imagine how horrid the conditions were. But society was much, much more complicated than that. It all had to do with how one was created, the frame type and model of the Cybertronian, the caste they were forged - born - into, or constructed for. Even the type of spark one had played a large role in how they were treated and placed." Ratchet was on a roll now, and Jack was fascinated enough to remain quiet. "Medics - the good ones, anyways - were notorious for being 'forged' instead of 'constructed.' As such it was typical to find us in the higher castes. Miners, on the other hand, were 'constructed,' and thus considered lesser and placed in the lower caste. Exceptions were extraordinarily rare, but they were there.

"There had always been dissent amongst the lower caste, but as I mentioned before many were silenced. Even those amongst the higher caste were not entirely safe. Orion Pax was lucky, as he had many powerful friends. Megatron just happened to not only be the most liked gladiator in all of Kaon, but he had some accursed luck on his side. Together, they formed a powerful team that spoke out, but it was Megatron who gave their movement a name: the Decepticons."

"Wait, I thought you said Optimus was never a Decepticon?" Jack raised his eyebrow.

"And he wasn't," Ratchet replied sternly, "he never affiliated himself with that part of Megatron's group. They were merely political allies, up until Megatron shared his ulterior motives with that of the Council, the one part of the Senate I can say for certain was not wholly corrupted. I'm sure we have Alpha Trion to thank for that."

The teenager listened, finding everything fascinating but also attempting to wrap his head around it all. The Cybertronian society seemed so . . . strict. And boring. Miko would not have been impressed.

Miko . . .

He was painfully reminded of where they were.

The human sat on his guardian's hand. "Did you know Megatron then too? Or only after he created the Decepticons?"

"I knew him through Orion Pax," Ratched said, "and . . . quite frankly, I was so delusional I liked him. He was certainly charming, and surprisingly educated for a 'bot of his status. I suspect Orion had something to do with it; regardless - Megatron was one of few born with a brilliant mind, but in the wrong place. It wasn't until his speech at the Council were his true colors revealed . . . and we all realized we had been played for fools."

The medic fell silent as he thought, pulled into the past and recalling just what happened on Cybertron. Jack allowed for him to relive it, watching as his turquoise optics dimmed ever so slightly. Eventually Ratchet shook himself from his reverie, refocusing on the human in his hand.

"Orion was even more enchanted than I; for Megatronus was very much like him in that he saw unfairness, but where there was bloodlust he saw determination, and Megatronus' violence was passion. He very much betrayed Orion Pax and I could never forgive him for it." Ratchet felt his jaw become tight. "They were amica endura, and Megatronus cast it aside as if it meant nothing."

"Hold on, amica endura?" Jack looked stunned. "Arcee told me about that . . . they were married?"

Ratchet stared at the human, shocked that he would dare say such a thing. It took a long time for him to process what the teen had said, and even longer for him to put together where the miscommunication occurred.

"No, no, no," Ratchet sputtered, hurriedly correcting Jack's mistake, "that is conjunx endura, amica refers to 'best friends.' Now, an amica pair could eventually take the next step and become conjunx, but that depended on the societal norms a 'bot was brought up in. Most believed it could not happen. But that is a whole other story."

Jack nodded, realizing why Ratchet would have been so horrified. He just implied that Optimus and Megatron had been, at one point, in love.

That was weird to think about.

"Okay, I get it now," he scratched the back of his head. Whew, that was awkward. "So, Orion and Megatronus were best friends, and now they're not. Got it." He looked up at Ratchet. "So . . . were you and Orion amica endura? I mean, it kind of feels like you are now -"

"No."

Jack stopped, stunned again. He looked up to see Ratchet was not looking at him, the medic instead focusing on a point on the wall. There was a painful silence to be had until the Autobot decided to speak again, taking a deep vent before he began.

"When a Cybertronian decides to become amica with another, they go through a ritual that leaves them intensely vulnerable; and rejection can wreak havoc on a spark," Ratchet said. "Orion was wary - as he should have been - and that put a temporary strain on our relationship. Before we finally felt ready the war began, and Orion Pax became Optimus Prime. He swore off baring his spark to anyone, or allowing himself to form deeply-rooted attachments for the sake of himself, that who would be closest to him, and the Autobot cause."

"Oh . . ." Jack felt terrible now, seeing Ratchet's faceplates stiffen into a bitter expression and hearing his voice become fractured. "Ratchet, I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for," he did not care to hide the snap. "The only one who should be saying anything of that nature is Megatron, but I doubt he feels any remorse for what he has done. I have since gotten over it, and find that I too could not possibly juggle any sort of attachments with my work."

Jack became quiet, knowing Ratchet was lying. It explained a lot, he felt; how Ratchet was so quick to demonize Megatron, or how he was unafraid to stand up to Optimus - but just as quick to back him up if need be. They could have been the Cybertronian equivalent of best friends, but Megatron had not only taken such a title for himself, he had stripped away any chance of Optimus forming any sort of healthy attachment ever again. It was cruel and unusual punishment.

Much like what they were soon going to face.