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Wheeljack’s Lab

With Razr still curled up in his arms, Smokescreen had followed Axle during their silent trip from the Guardian all the way to the door of Wheeljack’s lab on the Ark-22. Once they had finally arrived at their destination, the field medic abruptly stopped and spun around, placing his outstretched hand on the rallybot’s shoulder. The question posed to the red and blue racer was one he had expected to be asked eventually, either by Axle or Wheeljack. Of course, the answer was a resounding “yes”, but Smokey never had a chance to say it before the black and green mech turned back around and entered the security code, granting them access to the lab.

Smokescreen simply smiled as Axle conceded that he already knew the answer to his own question before crossing the threshold and making his way towards the back room where Tracer still lay motionless on a berth. The diversion expert followed as he gently rubbed the top of the turbofox’s head with his actuators. Once the field medic had regarded the inventor with a curt nod and moved on to examine Tracer’s newly repaired optics, the rallybot approached the scientist and gave a friendly nod of his own. “Hey, ‘Jack, sorry I disappeared on you guys earlier. I had to retrieve Tracer’s little pet here,” Smokey apologized as he glanced down at Razr before returning his full attention to his friend.

“Ah, it’s okay, Smokey,” Wheeljack responded with a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand. “We just don’t want you to overdo it, that’s all. You’ve been through a lot and have a whole new body to show for it. It’ll take time to acclimate yourself to a different frame even though it’s very similar to your old one. Not to mention your trinity organs need time to adjust, as well.”

“Yeah, I get what you're saying, ‘Jack. You did a real good job on my new body, by the way. I haven’t transformed yet to see my updated alt mode, but I’m sure it’ll fit my personality just fine.”

“Oh, it will, Smokes. Just don’t try transforming yet. Let your T-cog settle in to its new home for a while. Maybe another couple of cycles and you’ll be good to go.”

“No problem,” Smokescreen replied, rocking Razr gently in order to keep the little guy calm. “I doubt I’ll get out much right now to use it, anyway.” The rallybot paused and glanced over towards the back room where Axle was still examining Tracer. From the former street racer’s vantage point, he could see that the troubled femme was beginning to somewhat move around, a good sign that the aforementioned paralysis was starting to wear off. “So, ‘Jack, did you have any trouble fixing her optics?” Smokey asked as he returned his gaze to the inventor.

“It went okay,” Wheeljack responded with a deep sigh. “I don’t know if you’ve been told, but unfortunately Tracer was conscious throughout the entire procedure. Pain meds were out of the question so she felt everything I did to her. I tried to be as gentle as possible with her, but I'm sure it wasn't enough. Thankfully, I think I was successful in restoring all of the burnt out internal connections, and I also replaced both of her outer lenses. Plus, I used some Corrostop to try and get rid of those scorch marks from around her orbital sockets. I did a pretty good job, but some of the melted areas will need further restoration. Still, she looks way better than she did when you disappeared.”

“I understand. I’m sure you did your best,” Smokescreen said with a grateful smile. “And I know you didn’t mean to hurt her. There was no other choice considering the Syk could have reacted badly with any painkillers Axle might have given her. She needs to see, after all, so there was no avoiding what had to be done. Besides, if anyone is to blame for her current agonizing state, it’s that slagger, Oil Slick. He’s the bad guy here, not you, ‘Jack.”

“Thanks, Smokey. I appreciate that.”

It was then that Axle returned to the main lab area and told Smokescreen that the troubled femme was asking to see him. The diversion expert quietly nodded and moved away from his two comrades, walking into the back room where he found Tracer lying on the cold metallic slab. She was clearly in a lot of pain, but hopefully that would soon pass, allowing her to return to a more normal existence. At least, that is, until she needed her next dose of Syk.

Peering down at Tracer, Smokescreen cast her a warm smile and ever so gently took her hand into his own while still holding on to Razr with his other arm. “Hey there, sweetspark,” the rallybot spoke softly in a loving tone. “Look who I found.” Smokey loosened his grip on the turbofox, allowing the little guy the option to jump down and cuddle up beside his master once again. Whether her pet did so or not, hopefully Razr’s presence would help ease the drug-addicted femme’s suffering, if only a little bit.

Wheeljack’s Lab

Axle watched as Smokescreen moved past him and into the back room where Tracer was just coming out of her paralyzed state. The prognosis was good as she began moving of her own volition faster than he had expected, but since there were no adverse systems readings he deemed the quick recovery very welcome.

Once the rally-bot was well out of earshot the field medic regarded Wheeljack. With a forced smile Axle placed his hand gently upon the scientist’s shoulder.

“You did a nice job on her optics, ‘Jack. Just a bit more work on the scorch marks and she’ll be back to normal.”

He lowered his hand back to his side and let out a tired sigh.

“Well, physically normal.”

He let out a groan and moved past the engineer to sit down on a stool by the workbench. He ran a hand down the full length of his faceplate as he looked back to both Smokescreen and Tracer.

“You know we can’t stay here too much longer. We all have to get back to our duties. I’m just waiting for that inevitable call from Ratchet demanding that I get back to the med bay.”

Several minutes passed before Axle got back to his feet and stretched.

“I know you told Prowl about Smokey being infected with Cosmic Rust, but with his appearance outside of your lab and being seen by Bluestreak, Sideswipe, and no doubt Sunstreaker it’s probably safe to assume others will know that he’s functional and up and about.”

Axle placed one hand on his hip while he continued to watch both love-struck Autobots.

“Any ideas on how we should handle it?”
____

Once more Tracer tried to turn on her side but she was still unable to complete the feet. Instead she keened softly and offlined her newly repaired optics. Moving around hurt so it only made sense to stay as still as she could be tolerated.

After several moments passed the sharp agonizing pain lessened and became only slightly unbearable. The room grew quiet after a few minutes with only the soft sounds of the few instruments and equipment that were strewn around the lab and in the back room. The rhythmic hum was almost soothing, but not as much as the sound of Smokescreen’s voice which lowly broke the quiet.

A small smile grew on her visage before it quickly morphed into a deep frown. Tracer onlined her optics and caught only a brief glimpse of Smokescreen before she turned her head away from him.

It took a moment before she was able to turn back and face him without a distressed expression plastered over her face. Finally she was able to regard him with a genuine smile and a slight nod. When she felt his hand gently slip into hers she was able to give a light squeeze.

“Hi.”

When Smokescreen mentioned that he had found someone Tracer lifted her head up off the berth slightly and noticed that Razr was tucked securely in the red and blue mech’s arm. She laid her head back down once Razr jumped from his arms and landed lightly next to her on the slab. The turbofox wasted no time in snuggling up close and laying his head gently on her chest.

Tracer slowly lifted her free hand and placed it on top of the animal’s head and slowly ran it up and down between his large ears. Relieved that he was finally back in her care Tracer looked up at Smokescreen and flashed him a bright smile.

“Thank...you…for bringing him back. Missed him...missed you.”

She gave his hand a harder squeeze but let her smile falter slightly as another wave of pain washed over her.

“It still hurts. Taking longer...to go away.”

Wheeljack’s Lab

“Thanks, Axle,” Wheeljack replied to the field medic’s compliment. “Like I told Smokey, I did my best. Her optics were pretty badly damaged, especially internally, but I had all of the tools that I needed to get the job done. I just wished I could’ve caused her less pain, but sometimes it’s unavoidable.” The engineer watched as Axle sat down on a nearby stool, looking exhausted. The black and green mech then commented that they couldn’t all remain in the lab for much longer as individual duties still awaited each of them. Letting out a sigh, the mad scientist nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you're right. Although, I was setting up my lab when I got the call from Smokey, so most of the other 'Bots won’t wonder what happened to me as I do the majority of my work right here in my lab. It’s the rest of you that have other places to be.”

About a half breem passed as Wheeljack remained silent, watching the love bots interact with one another in the back room. How nice it must be to have someone special working within the corridors of the same vessel. It was seldom that love or affection flourished during periods of war. Many mechs found no time for it even in between battles when there was little to do but routine duties. Of course, the fact that there were so few femmes on the front lines didn’t help matters. Still, while it was nice for Smokescreen to have Tracer so close to him, it could also be a hinderance as evidenced by recent events that almost saw the diversion expert killed and all for the affections of one troubled femme.

Finally, Axle spoke up again and mentioned that several Autobots had already seen the rallybot up and about and fully functional again. The question now was, how to handle Smokey’s reintroduction into the ranks after such an absence. Wheeljack had not really thought about it, knowing that it would be hard to tear him away from Tracer until she was at least feeling better. Regardless, it had to be addressed sooner rather than later.

“I’m not sure,” Wheeljack started to say as his attention shifted from the love bots back to the field medic. “I’m assuming that neither Bluestreak nor the twins made a big deal out of his new appearance? Heck, Blue probably didn’t even notice since he’s never been to Earth before now and thus wouldn’t know what Smokey used to look like. Sunny and Siders are another story, but if they didn’t question anything too much then most others probably won’t make a big deal out of it, either. As for when we should get Smokey back out there to his normal duties, well, maybe in another cycle or two. The hard part will be getting him to leave Tracer. Perhaps I can put in a request to have them both reassigned to my lab to assist with my experiments. That would give both of them time to rest up some more before being unleashed back into the war. Just an idea, of course.”
_________

“You’re very welcome, and I missed you, too,” Smokescreen answered Tracer once Razr had jumped down to cuddle up next to her on the cold metal slab she was lying on. Like he had hoped for, the little turbofox had brought her some level of comfort while the pain continued to radiate throughout her body. It was clearly evident on the troubled femme's faceplate no matter how hard she tried to hide it from the rallybot. Ultimately, she gave up trying to conceal her suffering and simply admitted that the pain was not going away as quickly as it usually did. “I’m sure you’ll feel much better soon, Trace. Just give it time.”

Smokescreen’s words were meant to reassure her that everything would be okay. However, the fact that the replicated Syk was taking longer to work was very concerning to the diversion expert as it meant one of two things. Either Wheeljack’s invention hadn’t done it’s job properly and there was something wrong with the reproduced narcotic, or the vile Smokey had stolen from Oil Slick was not the same mix that Tracer had been given previously. Of course, there was also a third possibility where the femme’s body was getting used to this incarnation of Syk and thus it was no longer having the desired effect on controlling her illness. If that was the case then a more potent version would have to be created or she would continue to suffer. She needed to be weaned off of the drug slowly and not go, as the humans would say, cold turkey.

Regardless of what was causing this initial delay, the diversionary tactician tried not to jump to any conclusions. Instead, he remained focused on Tracer and squeezed her hand while smiling down at her. Smokescreen then caressed the side of her faceplate with his free hand before leaning in to give her a gentle kiss on her chevron. Once the affectionate gesture was made, the rallybot raised his head back up with the same reassuring smile spread across his visage as he locked optics with her newly fixed ones. “Hang in there, Trace. You’ll be back to your old self in no time. I promise.”

Wheeljack’s Lab

With a heavy sigh Axle very harshly laid his elbow on the workbench’s surface and rested his cheekplate on his lightly balled fist. “And you did a great job, ‘Jack. I’ve got no questions about that, but…” Axle grew silent as Wheeljack continued on voicing his opinion on just what to do about reintegrating Smokey and himself back into the populace.

Axle waved off Wheeljack’s concern regarding the twins. “I wouldn’t worry about Sunny or Sides. Sunny’s never been interested in anything other than himself or his brother and Sides, well we all know he’s got a short attention span.” Axle shifted slightly on his stool as he considered Bluestreak’s reaction. “Well, Blue…the kid’s not a very keen observer outside of a battle. Chances are he had no clue Smokey’s appearance changed…as you said.”

A few minutes passed giving Axle the small opportunity to think. “Contact whoever’s in charge and see if you can get Smokey and Tracer reassigned to your lab. It’s probably for the best. Meanwhile I’ll have to head back to the Med Bay. I’m surprised Ratchet hasn’t come looking for me by now…” the last bit was added as more of an afterthought.

Axle lifted his head off of his fist and lowered his arm to rest on top of the workbench. “You know, I haven’t heard from Hex in quite some time. Kinda amazed no one’s contacted me complaining he’s gotten into any trouble…pretty unusual. Of course he could be hold up in a wall or something.”

The field medic cast a glance up in Wheeljack’s direction just before he stood up and stretched. “I’m sure everything will be fine while I’m gone. And I won’t be away for too long…just long enough to make my appearance and then I’ll be back here.”
____

Tracer offlined her optics as she lazily stroked Razr on his head eliciting a low contented coo from the little animal. There was a bit of silence as she began to relax and let her processor wander. But it was the sensation of Smokescreen’s hand caressing her faceplate that caused her to online her optics and look up at him…her optics seemingly focused on his visage but not entirely recognizing him. Her optics widened slightly as he leaned down over her and pressed a gentle kiss to her chevron. Tracer flinched lightly at the touch.

There was something familiar about the mech standing next to her, but she was having a difficult time working out just what it might be. She recognized his voice but he looked so strange…nothing like he did when she saw him last…which was only a few hours ago. And here he was again.

Tracer tilted her head slightly as she looked Smokescreen over intently. Her attention was so focused on the bot standing beside he that she completely ignored the turbofox resting by her side. After several moments of quiet observation she lifted her head up off the berth and slowly sat up all the while keeping her optics glued to Smokey’s form.

“You told me that I could go if it turned out that it didn’t work…you promised I could leave after one vorn. It’s going on my 5th vorn. If it hasn’t worked by now then it’ll never work.”

She sent an angry glare up at Smokescreen before she carefully tried to stand up causing Razr to jump off the berth to seek out a more secure hiding place.

“You can’t keep me here!”

It was him. It had to be. That gentle touch to her chevron...he was the only one she knew that had such an interest in her head…in all of their heads. It was the only way; he had said. No more. She couldn’t go through another session.

“Just let me go!”

Wheeljack’s Lab

Smokescreen became a bit perplexed as Tracer’s mood suddenly changed and she began staring at him like he was some kind of stranger. She looked him over as if she was seeing him for the very first time, a gesture that made the rallybot feel a little uncomfortable. “Tracer, you okay?” The diversion expert asked as a worried look became etched deeply on his faceplate. The troubled femme then lifted her cranium up off of the slab before she completely sat up, all the while keeping her newly fixed optics glued to Smokey as if she was afraid of him. “Trace, what’s wrong?”

The red and blue racer’s concern was only amplified when the femme began speaking to him about letting her go if it didn’t work and that she’d been there for five vorns now, an assertion that was ludicrous at best. “But, you’ve only been here for a few cycles....” Smokescreen tried to explain to Tracer but an angry glare was what he received in return before she tried to stand up, yelling back at him and demanding that he let her go. “But, you can’t go, Trace, not in your condition! Don’t worry, you’ll feel better soon, I promise!”

As Tracer tried to get to her feet, Smokescreen placed both of his hands onto her shoulders as he looked directly into her optics. “Tracer, it’s me, Smokey! It’s okay. I’m your friend! I’m just trying to help you! You need to lie down and rest while the Syk takes affect.” The rallybot didn’t understand why she was reacting in this manner, but he knew that he had to get her to calm down before she ended up hurting herself or someone else. He attempted to gently push her back down to the slab but was met only with resistance from the drug-addicted femme. “Tracer, please, you're going to injure yourself.”

It then became apparent to him what was happening. Tracer seemed to believe that she was still in the asylum back on Cybertron where they had conducted those horrible experiments on her that she had confessed to him earlier. The femme was somehow hallucinating which was why she no longer recognized who he was. But how? Was it something in the Syk that Oil Slick had added or did something go terribly wrong during the replication process? Either way, more help was required here than just what the rallybot could give her.

“Guys, I need help over here!” Smokescreen shouted out towards the main lab area where Axle and Wheeljack were still loitering about. “There’s something wrong with Tracer! She hallucinating or something! Get in here quick! I can’t hold her for much longer!”
_________

Wheeljack appreciated the field medic’s compliments on the job he had done with Tracer’s optics. The scientist smiled under his faceshield as Axle told him not to worry about Sunny or Siders as they were far more concerned about themselves then of Smokescreen’s current appearance. Bluestreak, while certainly more attentive than the twins, was usually too busy talking on and on than caring about how someone looked. Besides, it’s not like Smokey looked dramatically different. He wasn’t reformatted into a Dinobot or something which would draw a lot more attention to his situation.

“Yeah, you’re right. We don’t have to really worry about those three,” Wheeljack commented and he moved over to where Axle was sitting on the stool. “And the likelihood is that most ‘Bots won’t ask too many questions or look too closely to notice that Smokey has an all-new frame. They’ll probably just assume he got a new alt mode and move on from there. It's only the medical experts or higher ups that we need be concerned with."

The mechanical engineer then nodded as the field medic suggested contacting someone in charge in order to get Smokescreen and Tracer reassigned to his lab, a task that should be done sooner rather than later. “I guess I’ll have to contact Prowl again. He’ll likely agree to it considering our last conversation about Smokey’s supposed condition so getting him assigned here with me shouldn’t be a problem. Tracer, however, might be a bit more of a sell if you know what I mean.”

Wheeljack then watched as Axle stood up and stretched, mentioning that he had to get back over to the Guardian’s med bay for a brief appearance before returning once more. Somehow, ‘Jack thought that the field medic would be away for a little longer this time. Knowing Ratchet, the CMO probably wouldn’t like his subordinate just disappearing again after only a quick stay. “Well, do what you have to do, Axle. Just don’t come back here too soon. You don’t want to raise any suspicions with the hatchet. He’s probably already grumpy enough as it is. Heh. And I’m sure you’re right. Everything will be fine here until you get....”

The mad scientist’s words were then cut off as he heard some commotion coming from the back room where Tracer seemed to be causing a bit of a ruckus. Smokescreen’s subsequent plea for assistance only confirmed that there was indeed a problem. “I’m coming, Smokes!” Wheeljack responded as he hurried over to the metallic slab where the diversion expert was trying to subdue the troubled and clearly upset femme. The engineer took hold of Tracer’s left arm in an attempt to help get her seated again. “What happen, Smokey?”

“She just started yelling about being kept here for five vorns against her will and that she wanted to leave now,” Smokescreen responded as he continued to try and get Tracer to lie down. “She doesn’t recognize me! I think she’s hallucinating that she's back at the asylum! I can’t think of any other explanation! It has to be the Syk you guys gave her. Something’s wrong with the dosage or ingredients or something!”

Wheeljack let out a defeated sigh as he glanced back at the field medic, all the while trying to keep a hold of the struggling femme. “Axle, we need you over here! Stat! The hallucinogen component must have be far more potent then we had anticipated!”

Wheeljack’s Lab

Axle rolled his neck from side to side trying to loosen the taught cables while sending a short smile in ‘Jack’s general direction. Truth be told he preferred to stay with both of his patients however, he had other obligations, not to mention that he was sure to be called by Ratchet sooner or later.

The black and green Autobot relaxed his posture and cast a long gaze at the scientist. “Yeah. I’ll contact Ratch just as soon as I take some final readings on both Smokey and Tra…” Just then he heard the commotion coming from the back room. As soon as Wheeljack took off Axle followed close behind.

Axle surveyed the scene while Wheeljack moved in to help Smokescreen restrain the confused femme. Tracer struggled against both mechs and continued her pleas to be released. “Whoa! Tracer I need you to calm down.” The medic said and slowly extended a hand out to grip the femme’s arm. The seemingly innocent act caused Tracer to jerk away quickly.

“Don’t touch me! Just…just stay away!” Axle pulled away slowly while studying the femme’s demeanor and mannerisms. She was agitated and obviously confused. She didn’t seem to recognize any of them which was not a good sign…not in the least.

“Tracer…do you know who I am?” Axle cocked his head to one side while she finally looked up at him. “Of course I do. I’ve seen you every day for the past five vorns.” The medic’s optics widened with realization. He cast a quick gaze at Wheeljack and then turned his attention on to Smokescreen. He shook his head slightly and then refocused his attention on Tracer. “Tracer, what’s my name?” The scout glared at the medic for a long moment before she finally ground out her answer. “Compulsor.”

The answer the femme gave was of no surprise to Axle. “Alright. Tracer, I’d like you to stay here with Wheeljack while I talk to my friend over here.” As the medic spoke he worked his way around the berth to where Smokescreen was holding the femme. He took a hold of the blue and red mech’s elbow and guided Smokescreen away so that he could speak with him in private.

“She’s hallucinating. She has no idea who we are. From what I can tell she believes that I’m the former head of the Rodion Assylum. And you two…” Axle indicated Wheeljack and the rallybot... “…are, to her, the orderlies.”

The medic paused for a moment as he gently rubbed his chin in thought. “She won’t believe me if I tell her Compulsor’s dead so we’ll have to try something else.” Axle cast his gaze over in Tracer’s direction…thus far she was cooperating with ‘Jack, but he couldn’t be sure that it would last.

“Smokey, I think you can help her through this.” He flashed the lovesick mech a small smile and a quick nod. “I want you to talk to her…tell her something…a story…that has some kind of meaning.” Axle thought for a moment while he cast his gaze on the femme. “Remind her of who you are to her.” With that said, Axle gestured for Smokescreen to move back to Tracer’s side.

“Tracer, this is a friend of mine. His name’s Smokescreen and he’d like to talk to you for a little bit. Is that alright?” Tentatively, Tracer looked from Axle and over to Smokey. Her optics lingered on him as she nodded in agreement.

Wheeljack’s Lab

“Wait, did you just say hallucinogen?” Smokescreen asked, glaring over at Wheeljack as the two mechs tried desperately to subdue the troubled femme. “There was a hallucinogen in the Syk and you didn’t think to remove it before replicating it not to mention injecting her with it!?”

“We did consider it, Smokey,” the mechanical engineer responded as he looked back at the angry rallybot. “But Axle thought it would be better not to tamper with the mixture. He wasn’t sure, and nor was I, whether or not Tracer had ever been exposed to such an element before. Removing it all together could’ve had a worse effect on her.”

“Worse than this?” Regardless of his anger, the diversion expert understood the reasoning behind the decision. Of course, he certainly didn’t like it, especially now with how Tracer didn’t even know who they all were. Before the red and blue racer could say any more on the subject, Axle had moved in and taken control of the situation. The field medic asked the drug-addled femme a couple of questions before ascertaining the problem for himself. The black and green medical expert then took Smokey by the elbow and lead him away, leaving Wheeljack behind to keep Tracer under control.

Axle’s first two statements told Smokescreen nothing that he hadn’t already figured out for himself. He remained quiet, however, listening to the rest of the field medic's explanation regarding the specifics of her hallucination. “The Rodion Asylum. It all makes sense now,” the rallybot said before Axle suggested that he tell her a story, something that had personal meaning to both of them and would remind her of who he was. Smokey thought for a moment, glancing over at Tracer as he searched his databanks for anything that he could use. Finally, something came to mind and he looked back at the medic. “I think I’ve got just the thing.”

Smokescreen then followed Axle back to where Tracer was once again seated on the makeshift med berth. The black and green mech re-introduced the rallybot to her, asking if she would allow him to speak to her. Hesitantly, she agreed and Smokey slowly moved to her side, kneeling down so that he was at optical level with her. At the same time, Wheeljack loosened his grip on her arm as she relaxed some, but kept a close watch on the troubled femme just in case she got out of control again.

“Hi, Tracer,” the diversion expert began to say in a soft, calming voice. “My name’s Smokescreen. I know that you don’t know me, but I promise I’m not going to hurt you in any way. I just want to help you remember what’s you’ve forgotten, that’s all. I’m going to start by telling you a story if that’s okay. This story involves both you and I and it takes place on Cybertron a long time ago. It was only the second time we had ever met. I spotted you on a street corner in a bad area of the casino district in Kaon. I was with an old street racing buddy of mine at the time when I saw you. I ditched my friend and decided to head across the street to where you were standing. Remember? You thought I was going to demand that you return the credits I caught you trying to steal from me in the casino during our first meeting and then gave to you in order to help you out. I told you that the money wasn’t important and that I just wanted to see how you were doing. You relaxed after that and we talked for a bit. We were about to part ways when I stopped and asked if you’d meet me later that night in a bar just down the street. I really didn’t think you’d say yes, but to my surprise you did.”

Smokescreen paused for a moment to allow everything he had just said to sink in to the troubled femme’s confused processor. He cast her a compassionate look before continuing. “I got to the bar first and waited for several cycles. I was about to leave, convinced that you had stood me up, when finally you arrived. You were so apologetic for being late, but I didn't even care. You were there and that's all that mattered to me. We ended up talking for hours on end. Once we were done trading stories and what not, we both got up to leave and stepped outside where I asked you a question. Remember? It was so silly of me to ask you something like that when we had only known each other for such a short amount of time, but I couldn’t help myself. There was just something about you that made you different from all the other femmes I had known, something very special. Do you remember what I asked you, Trace?”

Wheeljack’s Lab

As the “medic” pulled the other blue and red mech away from the slab, Tracer kept a leery optic glued to Wheeljack. He had eased up on restraining her but she was still convinced that he’d try to pin her down again once the other two were finished with their side bar. To her surprise the “medic” returned but he did not give any order to subdue her and drag her from her cell…as was customary…instead he told her that his “friend” had something to talk to her about.

Tracer’s curiosity was piqued as she followed Smokescreen’s movements closely while the diversionary expert introduced himself in a soft and soothing tone. But as nice as he sounded she was not going to let her guard down. After all, these mechs were refusing to release her from her cell. Her optics narrowed ever so slightly as the scout took in what Smokescreen was telling her.

Tracer offered him a nod agreeing to hear this story he was ready to recite. To her surprise the tale was one that included herself and this unknown Smokescreen person. Had she met him before she went to Rodion? She didn’t think so. So how is it he knew her? Tracer quieted her processor as the blue and red mech began his narrative.

As the story unfolded the femme’s attention intensified. There was something…it all seemed familiar but how could it? She never met this mech…or had she? It was all so confusing…her head hurt, but she could not shake the underlying feeling that what he was telling her was true.

As Smokescreen pressed onward Tracer turned her gaze away from him and focused on the floor in front of her. Her eyes were elsewhere but her audios were wide open to what he was telling her. The bar. It was small…dark, and it smelled like stale energon. But that didn’t matter.

Tracer kept her optics averted but when he asked about whether or not she remembered what he asked her when they left the bar, Tracer stiffened. She remained silent for several minutes before her tense posture relaxed and she let out a low sigh. With her head still lowered she answered Smokescreen in something akin to a whisper. “You asked me…you asked if I believed in love at first sight.” She slowly raised her head until she met his optics. After a moment of gazing into his bright blue eyes, Tracer went on. “And I told you no…that I believed in fate and that I believed in luck.”

A very small smile crept onto her face while she carefully watched his expression. She finally raised her hand and gently cupped his cheek. “It was the wrong answer.”

The exchange started out with the femme keeping a trained eye on all three of the mechs only to relax…if only for a moment…when Smokescreen started to tell her the story. At first Tracer seemed to have trouble believing what she was being told, but whether it was Smokescreen himself or her actually recalling the memory of that time Axle was not sure…however, she seemed to be accepting what was being told to her.

Axle visibly relaxed letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding as Tracer answered Smokescreen’s query and followed it up with a loving gesture. All very good signs. However, she may recognize Smokescreen, but that did not mean she would recognize him or ‘Jack. Playing it on the safe side Axle took a slight step forward and lightly touched Smokescreen on the back to gain his attention and spoke in a very low tone so that only the mech in front of him could hear. “Good job, Smokescreen. Now ask her if she recognizes ‘Jack and me. Also be sure to let her know that she’s not in the asylum…that we’re on the Ark – 22 and we’re all trying to help her with her addiction.” He paused for a moment to be sure the diversionary expert absorbed everything he had requested.

Wheeljack’s Lab

After what seemed like more than just a few minutes, Smokescreen cracked a small smile as Tracer finally remembered the question he had asked her after their meeting at the energon bar. As indicated prior, it was a silly question to be sure and Smokey was a bit embarrassed that both Axle and Wheeljack were present to hear it. Still, it was a good sign that the troubled femme was coming back to him and coming back to the here and now. “That’s right,” the rallybot replied as he felt her hand gently cup his cheek. “It was right for us at the time I suppose. If we had allowed ourselves to fall in love then it would have made our separation once the war started so much more difficult than it already had been.”

Taking her hand into his own, Smokescreen kept his optics fixated on Tracer’s newly installed ones in the hopes that his gaze would continue to awaken those memories the hallucinogenic Syk had temporarily stolen from her. It was then that he heard Axle’s voice whisper into his audio receptor, giving him further instructions on what to do and what to say next. The red and blue racer turned his head slightly to one side and gave a faint nod to the field medic before regarding the drug addled femme with the same caring look he had before. “Tracer, please listen to me. You’re not in the asylum anymore. That was a very long time ago before the war. You are currently here with me on board the Ark-22 in the Sol System. My friends and I are just trying to help you beat your addiction to Syk. It was laced with a hallucinogen, which is why you’re having difficulty recalling everything that has happened.”

The diversion expert paused for a moment and looked over at Wheeljack, who was still crouched down next to the slab, keeping a light grip on Tracer. Smokescreen reached out his free hand and placed in firmly on the mechanical engineer’s shoulder plate. “This here is Wheeljack and the mech standing behind me is Axle,” the rallybot stated as his gaze settled back on Tracer’s perplexed expression. “Do you remember them? They’re my friends and yours, too. They saved my life, building me a new body in the process. I trust them with my very spark and so can you.”

Wheeljack retracted his faceshield, revealing a broad smile underneath. It was a motion the engineer did slowly as he felt it would be less scary for Tracer if she could see the friendly visage behind the mask, which could sometimes come across as intimidating and somewhat frightening for those that were unfamiliar with the resident mad scientist or his personality. In this case, the reaction she was having from the Syk was the cause of that fear and uncertainty, so hopefully a faceplate with an actual mouthpiece would help diminish those feelings to some degree. It didn’t seem like much, but every little bit counted especially in a situation such as this.

The touch of Smokescreen’s hand on Wheeljack’s shoulder caused him to cast that same warm smile in the diversion expert’s direction before returning it to the troubled femme. The engineer said nothing, however, as the rallybot was doing an adequate job of talking Tracer out of her hallucinating state all by himself. Another voice added into the mix now might cause her confusion and ultimately panic could return. Then they’d be right back at square one again, and the rallybot would have to come up with a different story to calm her down once more and bring her back to reality.

Either way, once this was all said and done, Wheeljack would need to recalibrate the hallucinogen element in the replicator so that this would not happen again. This was no way for any mech to function and the road to recovery seemed more and more like an impossible one to travel now. Of course, Smokey would never give up and neither would the mechanical engineer. They were his friends and the scientist's loyalty to them would continue to endure.

Wheeljack’s Lab

It seemed right, but how could it be? She had never met this mech before yet he was familiar. She remembered the time in the bar, but he said that was their second meeting. When did they first meet? It was all so confusing, but she found it difficult to mistrust him…this Smokescreen.

Tracer kept her optics locked with Smokescreen’s as the diversion expert tried again to convince her that she was, in fact, not in the asylum but that they were all on board some sort of space ship in the Sol System. It couldn’t have been true. There was no war…sure there was talk about it…rumors even, but there was no war. There was just the asylum and the endless “treatment sessions”. Tracer shook her head in rejection. “No. There’re only rumors about a war starting. I heard the orderlies talking…they say it won’t happen.”

The blue and white femme quickly looked away and cast her optics to the floor. Again she shook her head. She then slowly took another look at both Wheeljack and Axle. They were still an orderly and Compulsor. “No. He’s the one who ordered the therapy…” She pointed an accusing finger in Axle’s direction and then quickly pointed to Wheeljack. “…and he’s the one that comes for me every day.” Her attention snapped back to Smokescreen while squeezing his hand. “Please. Tell me you’ve come to get me out of here.”

Axle let out a heavy sigh as he listened to Tracer’s reaction. He knew it was premature to believe that one story would bring her out of a drug induced hallucination. It seemed that it would have to run its course. Now, whether or not that would be a wise decision remained to be seen. One good sign, however, was that the scout was no longer struggling and fighting to escape. She seemed to have calmed down and quickly came to trust Smokescreen. Big tick.

After a few minutes of observation Axle leaned down again and whispered into Smokescreen’s audio. “We’re going to have to let the hallucinogen run its course. The good thing…she trusts you and she seems calmer. Keep her talking. Maybe something will jar her memory.” He took a quick glance at the femme and gave her a small warm smile…it didn’t seem to go over well as Tracer flinched back sending the field medic a deep scowl. “I’d prefer not to tranquilize her if it can be avoided.”

The black and green mech pulled away from the red and blue ‘Bot and stepped over to where Wheeljack was waiting. Tracer followed every movement “Compulsor” made making sure that he remained in her line of sight at all times. When he stopped next to the mech she was introduced to as “Wheeljack” she carefully slid off the makeshift berth and worked her way behind Smokescreen. “They’re going to stick me in the quiet room aren’t they?”

>>”Axle! I don’t know where you are or what you’re doing, but I need your aft in here now!”<<

Axle had just opened his mouth to address the scientist when his comm line buzzed. The medic slowly ran his hand down the length of his face and let out a heavy sigh…it was Ratchet. He had hoped that he would have been able to spend just a little more time in the lab, but it sounded as though Ratchet was more frustrated than usual. Something happened. “’Jack, I have to go. Something’s wrong…Ratchet just commed me…he sounds…I have to go.” The slightly annoyed expression that had been on his face faded and was replaced by a worried look. “Keep me informed.” He said just as he began to jog toward the door.