The Favor

Chapter 1

Author's Note: I have no excuse for starting this story other than I felt the need to give Ratchet some loving. That's basically the only reason why this exists. Why? Because I love me some Ratchet. That's why.

Flashbacks are in italics.

Summary: In all the vorns that Ratchet had known Wheeljack, he certainly couldn't recall the mech ever mentioning having a sister.

Warning: Descriptions of interfacing ahead. You have been warned.

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers.

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Cybertron

"Hey, Ratch! Whatcha up to?"

The medic looked up from where he was loading recently used medical equipment into the autoclave to be sterilized to see the Autobot's resident engineer and part-time mad scientist, Wheeljack, waltzing into the medbay. A wide grin split the CMO's faceplates. "Oh, nothing much, Jack. I'm just finishing up here for the night. Care to wander down to the Promenade with me to get a cube of high grade?"

"I appreciate the offer but I'm gonna have to decline this evening." Wheeljack's helm finials glowed a soft blue matching his optics. He gave a happy, contented vent. "I actually have other plans."

"Oh?" Ratchet quirked an optic ridge questioningly. "Have you finally gotten up the nerve to ask that femme in communications out on a date? What's her designation? Crystal? Cast Iron?"

"Cascade," Wheeljack chuckled. "And no, I haven't asked her out."

"Well, why in Primus' name not?" Ratchet groused. "I can think of very few activities that should ever take precedence over spending quality time with a beautiful femme."

Wheeljack shook his head. "You mean interfacing with a beautiful femme, right?"

Ratchet shrugged his wide shoulders. "Is there really a difference?"

"Well ya know," Wheeljack started. "Some of us mechs actually like to know more about a femme besides what pops their panel, doc." The mech cocked his helm whimsically at the medic, his optics taking on a lighter hue. "One day I'm gonna meet the perfect femme. Someone who completes me, you know? We'll bond and, who knows…maybe get sparked and have a couple little mechs or femmes running around under our pedes…"

"Nice fantasy there, Jack," Ratchet snorted. "Romance is a thing of myth."

"Hey! It could happen!" Wheeljack chuckled. "You just have to give it a chance, Ratch. You don't know what you're missing."

"Missing?" Ratchet rolled his optics. "I have a pretty good idea what I'm missing." He started ticking points off on his servos. "Drama, complications, emotional trauma, jealousy, lying, cheating, spark ache…do I need to go on?"

Wheeljack shook his head sadly. "I get it, Ratch. You went through a horrible experience that changed your perspective on life. Not all femmes are like that, you know. What happened between you and Frost Fire…"

"Is ancient history." The medic finished for him. "I learned a lot from that experience and it's not something I'd like to repeat. Relationships aren't for me, Wheeljack."

"So, what?" Wheeljack pressed. "You're just going to spend the rest of your life bringing random femmes back to your berth whenever the mood strikes? No emotional attachment, no affection, just interfacing? Sounds like a long, lonely existence to me…"

Ratchet spun around and glared at the engineer with narrowed optics. "First of all, I don't see how my personal activities are any of your business. Secondly, there is no harm in a friendly frag, Jack. I give them a pleasant evening, a nice interface, and a good overload. No commitments, no regrets. All parties walk away happy and sated. I get to relieve a bit of tension and I don't have to deal with all the emotional slag that goes along with trying to keep a relationship together. And I never take them back to my berth, Jack. Never."

"If you say so, Ratch." Wheeljack lowered his helm. "I just think you're missing out, is all. There's a whole lot more to life than just fragging."

"Yes, well…" Ratchet turned back toward the autoclave, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly as he placed the last surgical tool on the rack. "Not all of us are cut out for a life of bond mates and sparklings, apparently."

"Look, Ratchet, I'm sorry." Wheeljack strode over to the now silent mech and laid a careful hand on his shoulder. "I didn't mean to bring any of that slag up. I know you loved her and I know it…I know it still hurts."

The CMO had gone completely still under the engineer's hand. His optics shuttered and his vents sucked in a great gulp of air to try to cool the heat raging in his systems. "It doesn't matter, Jack."

"No, Ratchet, it does matter," Wheeljack stated. "It matters a lot. You're a good mech and you've got a damn good spark. You have a lot to offer to another bot. You're caring, loyal, intelligent, and successful and according to the femmes around base you're not all that bad-looking either. You're a doctor for Primus' sake! Any femme would be fortunate to be bonded to you. Why Frost Fire did the things she did is beyond me but you know what? That's her loss, Ratchet, not yours. I just…I don't understand why you're still letting her actions dictate your life after all this time."

Ratchet vented heavily and glared over at the other mech. As much as he wished he could be mad at the engineer for dredging up painful thoughts, he couldn't be. Wheeljack had become one of his dearest friends and the medic had to admit that he did, somewhere down deep, appreciate the other mech's concern. The CMO shook his head, "Are you quite done?"

Wheeljack looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

"Good." Ratchet shrugged off the mech's hand and pulled himself up to his full height. "Now, did you just come in here to psychoanalyze me or did you actually want something?"

"Oh, yeah!" Wheeljack's helm finials brightened back to their happy blue color, his optics once again twinkling with mirth. "I sort of have a favor to ask you."

"What kind of favor?" Ratchet crossed his arms and leaned back against the now humming autoclave. Out of habit his did a quick medical scan on his colleague for any damage not readily visible to the naked optic. "Nothing has exploded has it? You seem to be functioning fine."

"No, nothing has exploded." Wheeljack squirmed under the medical laser's assault. "I wanted to know if you're free tomorrow evening after your shift."

Ratchet cut off his scans. "Yes, I'm free. First Aid is on call tomorrow. Why?"

"Well, you see," Wheeljack started. "I'm supposed to meet my sister down at the Docks in a couple joors…"

"You have a sister?" Ratchet cut the engineer off. "I never knew you had a sister!"

"Never mentioned that, did I?" Wheeljack chuckled a bit uncomfortably. "I'm sure I must have…"

"I think I would have remembered something like that, Jack," Ratchet huffed. "Primus, you think you know a mech…"

"Well, now you know. I have a younger sister and her name is Caliper." Wheeljack's optics lit up with affection. "She's a propulsion engineer, you know, helps design and construct spacecraft and warp engines for the armada. You know the tandem drive engines they use out in the main fleet? She drafted the design for those."

Ratchet didn't miss the way the other mech's chassis had puffed up in pride. His own lip components quirked up in a smile, the other mech's excitement was infectious. "She sounds like a very bright femme."

"She is." Wheeljack nodded enthusiastically. "She managed to land a spot in the Triumvirate's Research and Development Unit straight out of the academy on a recommendation of the Lord High Protector, himself."

Ratchet's optics widened. "That is impressive."

Wheeljack hummed in agreement. "Which brings me to what I originally came in to ask you. I'm meeting her at the Docks in a couple joors. She's been reassigned to a propulsion lab here in the sector which means that she'll be staying with me at my place for a while. She has to report to her new assignment early tomorrow. I can see her to the Tram in the morning but I won't be off shift early enough to meet her there at the end of the day. She doesn't really know the city that well and I was wondering if you wouldn't mind meeting her there for me and just making sure that she makes it back to my place alright Normally, I wouldn't ask but with all the craziness in the news lately I just don't want her out there wandering around alone after sundown, you know?"

"Hmm…" Ratchet nodded. "I understand. All of this political tension has bots acting savages. The economy is starting to tank and mech's think that gives them a reason to beat each other to death over credits. Bad situations seem to bring out the worst of the degenerates, it seems. I've treated eight femmes for forced coupling over the last orn. Eight!" The medic sighed and shook his head in disgust. "Hopefully, the Prime and the Lord High Protector get their differences ironed out soon before this whole planet goes to the Pit."

"The commentators are saying it's probably going to get worse before it gets any better." The engineer vented. "I just don't understand how Megatron can garner so much support from the masses. Do bots not listen to what he's saying, what he wants to do? It boils down to state mandated servitude."

Ratchet huffed, "All they care about is the fact that he's promising them free slag. Why be bothered to care for yourself when you can become a mindless Decepticon Army drone and have all your physical needs met by the powers that be. Those bots don't care where the Energon is coming from so long as their tanks stay full."

"It's a Primus-forsaken travesty, is what it is."

"I agree, Jack," the medic nodded. "What time will your sister be at the Tram station tomorrow evening?"

"Ah, yes," some of the tension left the engineer's frame as he realized he had once again been sidetracked from his intended purpose. Thinking of his younger sister once again had his finials glowing softly. "She'll be coming in on the last Tram so right around dusk."

"Very well," Ratchet nodded. "You may tell her that I'll meet her there."

"Hey! Thanks, Ratch!" Wheeljack's mouth could not be seen due to the blast mask covering the lower portion of his faceplates but the way his optics crinkled at the corners indicated his smile stretched wide beneath. "I owe ya one!"

"Bah!" Ratchet waived the mech off. "You can show me how thankful you are by not blowing yourself up for the next couple cycles. Now get out of here before you're late."

"I make no promises." The engineer chuckled and waved back at the medic as he made his way back out of the medbay. "Thanks, again!"

Ratchet watched the mech go with a ghost of a smile on his lip components. It faded quickly once the medbay doors slid shut leaving him to himself once again. A rush of loneliness settled over him making him feel cold. Some company of the femme persuasion would be nice just for the night, he decided. He thought of heading on down to the Promenade on his own for a cube of high grade. There was never a shortage of willing femmes at the energon bar. There were even rooms you could rent upstairs to work off your overcharge.

Or, he mused, there was always the new medical receptionist. Titania, her name was. She was all shiny, red armor and smooth curves. She had a perfectly molded chassis leading down to an impossibly small waist before flaring back out into a set of tantalizing hips. Admittedly, she wasn't the brightest femme ever to be sparked and her armor although stylish and optic-catching was easily two sizes too small for her frame and most likely wreaking havoc on her internals which normally would have irritated the medic to no end had he not been in his current state. Still, Ratchet hadn't missed the way the femme's optics roved over his own frame every time they came into proximity of each other in both curiosity and arousal. He was certain the femme wouldn't think twice about inviting him back to her berth if he indicated his interest.

Ratchet contemplated his options and just as quickly dismissed them both. He was lonely, yes, but the engineer's words were still too fresh in his processor. Though physical closeness with another being did help to alleviate his inner turmoil temporarily, it did little to address the root cause of his predicament. The overload was always welcome at the moment it happened but it didn't change the fact that once he came back to his senses and crawled out of one berth he would be returning to his own all alone with his thoughts. Thoughts, he knew, that seemed to center around that one, particular femme.

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Frost Fire, he had mistakenly believed, was The One. He had even entertained delusional fantasies like the one's Wheeljack had expressed once upon a time. In his own processor he had envisioned he and Frost Fire bonded. He imagined that they would have moved out of the city sector to a nice, quiet place on the outskirts…the perfect place to raise a sparkling or two. In his day dreams he had even conceived the possibility of resigning from his post as Prime's CMO and starting a small, private medical practice in order to spend more time at home with his fledgling family. He had gone so far as to venture down into the Merchant's District on one of his days off and purchase a bonding insignia for the femme with plans of proposing.

His plans, needless to say, had not worked out the way he had imagined. It had been one of those days where a mech wishes they had never climbed out of the berth to begin with. No sooner had he onlined his optics he was being pinged by First Aid, then his apprentice, for assistance with a critical neural net transfer on a patient that had fell victim to a freak ion blast at an energon mine. Frost Fire had only rolled her optics in irritation when he explained that he had to head in to the medical bay for an emergency procedure. He had told her that he would be back as soon as he could. They had plans later that evening and he intended to ask her to bond with him that night. She had merely shrugged her shoulders as he quickly kissed her before heading toward the door. He had turned back briefly to see her already returning to recharge, her features beautiful and serene in her state of rest. At that moment he had thought of himself as quite possibly the luckiest mech on Cybertron.

Fortunately, for the patient at least, First Aid's emergency neural net transfer ended up being a simple grid overhaul that took half as much time. They had been closing the mech's helm before midday which meant Ratchet would be home early and getting to spend some much desired time with his femme. He had made his way back through the bustling cityscape, a happy spring in his step as he neared the apartment he shared with Frost Fire. Entering the building he had rode the elevator up to the proper floor and stepped off, humming contentedly to himself as he approached the door to their apartment and keyed in his code.

The first thing he noticed when the door swung open was the femme's absence. Normally, Frost Fire, alerted by the sound of the door code being entered, met him at the door with a kiss and a cuddle. This time, however, she was nowhere to be found. Looking around the apartment, he saw nothing out of place but his audio receptors picked up some sounds coming from the berth room. He headed that direction, confusion prickling at his processor. It sounded like…

A guttural grunt.

A breathy moan.

"Oh, Primus…yes!" Frost Fire's voice. "Yes…please, don't stop! Mmmm…just like that!"

Realization washed over the medic and he had pushed the door mechanism with a shaking hand. The sound of the door sliding open had caused the scene before him to grind to an excruciating halt. His optics fluttered, hoping to clear away what he was seeing. The scent of lubricant and transfluid hung heavy in the air and brutally assaulted the medic's olfactory senses. "What the frag is going on? Frost Fire?"

The femme was in her protoform, her dark blue optics widened in surprise, even as she shamelessly straddled the hips of the black and white armored mech beneath her. His interface equipment was still buried deep within her port; small shudders wracked her frame indicating that she was on the very cusp of overload when they had been interrupted. Realizing that they were no longer alone she had tried to scramble off the mech's lap but his hands had held fast to her hips. The mech's red optics had gazed back into Ratchet's blue ones with a hint of challenge, a smirk twisting up one corner of his mouth as he bucked once more, viciously, into the femme causing her to gasp and keen.

"R-ratch-chet…n-no. W-wait, I…ahhh!" Whatever Fire Frost had been going to say was lost as the mech's final thrust threw her into overload.

In his fury, Ratchet hadn't even realized he'd been moving until he was reaching for the front door. Before he could make his escape, however, a set of slender servos had shackled his wrist. Spinning, he found himself looking down into Frost Fires optics, cleansing fluid leaking down her faceplates. He jerked his hand away. "Don't touch me."

"Ratchet, please, just listen." She looked up at him guiltily. Heat still rolled from her frame, cooling fans still roaring. "It isn't what it looks like…"

"Really?" the medic snorted. "Because it looked like you were fragging another mech in our berth!"

She, at least, had the decency to look ashamed. "I'm sorry. This isn't how I wanted you to find out."

"You're sorry?" Ratchet crossed his arms over his chassis. "How long has this been going on?"

"Ratchet…"

"How long?!" the mech demanded.

"For the last stellar cycle, okay?!" Fire Frost narrowed her optics. "There! Are you happy now?"

"The last stellar cycle?" Ratchet's arms fell to his sides in disbelief. "What? Why? How could you do this, Fire Frost? I love you! I thought we were happy!"

"You're never here!" Fire Frost defended. "You're always at that damn medbay!"

"I'm a doctor, for Primus' sake, Fire Frost! Bots get hurt and I'm obligated to fix them!" Ratchet's processor was spinning. "And every astrosecond I'm not at work, I'm here with you!"

"Yeah, well…" the femme shrugged. "Maybe I'm tired of spending my evenings sitting on the lounge with you in front of the viewer."

Ratchet's optics widened, "We go out all the time!"

"Really? Where?" Fire Frost smirked. "To the Gallery? The Archives? The Plaza? Please, Ratchet, a femme needs a little excitement from time to time. And, occasionally, a good hard frag." Her optics drifted over to the berth room door where the mech had finally emerged and was watching events unfold with barely contained glee.

"You're willing to throw away everything we have together just for an interface?" Ratchet was still having difficulty processing the situation. It all seemed so surreal. "I don't understand…"

"It's not like we can't still be together, Ratchet. We can. I just need a little…variety in my life from time to time." The femme shrugged. "This doesn't have to change anything."

"It changes everything," Ratchet clenched his denta together. "I need you to leave."

"Ratchet," she reached for him again. "Don't be that way. I don't expect you to be exclusive, either. If you want a femme or two on the side, I'd be alright with that…"

"I said don't touch me!" He jerked away from her questing hands. "Just…get out!"

He had been out the door before the femme could say anything more.

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Ratchet heaved a sigh as he moved toward the medical bay doors. He took one last look around the room to make sure everything was in order before dimming the lights and keying in the security code. He made his way down the hallway, out passed the receptionist's desk and paused. Titania was still there, straightening up for the night.

The femme looked up from shutting down her console and flashed a bright smile Ratchet's way. "Are you heading out for the night, doctor?"

"Yes, I am." He gave her a cursory once over but found her too-tight armor and bright red armor nowhere nearly as appealing as he had just moments ago. It wasn't that she wasn't attractive, she was. Just…not tonight.

"Say," the femme started. "Would you like to maybe get a cube of high grade with me before calling it day?"

High grade, too, had been a part of Ratchet's plans for the evening but even it didn't perk his interest as much as it had. He considered her offer only briefly before shaking his head in the negative. "It's been a rather trying day, Titania. I think I'm just going to head home to my berth and crash."

"Oh," the femme nodded but her optics betrayed her disappointment. "Another night, then?"

"Count on it." Ratchet smiled at her. With that, the mech headed out to go home. Alone.

End of Chapter 1

I know I have a short attention span and I story hop a lot. I do apologize. But I had to write this. I just had to. Forgive me.