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Wheeljack’s Lab

Wheeljack watched as Axle administered the replicated Syk to Tracer. Within moments, paralysis set in. The scientist then listened as the field medic explained the situation more thoroughly, revealing that the troubled femme was still conscious and could feel and hear everything that was going on around her. Worse still, Axle could not give her any pain killers due to the unknown reaction they would have with the Syk. This would make the mechanical engineer’s job a bit more difficult to perform with the knowledge that he would be hurting her unintentionally.

“I understand,” Wheeljack said with a nod as Axle left the lab to go look for Smokescreen. Without wasting any time, the white mech made his way to Tracer’s side and knelt down, setting the optical repair kit next to her on the berth. “Tracer, it’s Wheeljack. I know that you can hear me. I’m going to try and repair the damage to your optics. Once I’m finished you should be able to see again. However, the heat damage around your sockets may not be as easy to fix, but I’m more concerned now with your actual vision.” The scientist paused for a moment as he opened the kit and retrieved an optical magnifier. He then attached the round device over his right optic, allowing him to see deep within Tracer’s damaged eyes.

“I apologize in advance if I hurt you, Tracer. I promise I’m going to be as gentle as I can. Unfortunately, some of what I must do will cause you pain. I’m very sorry,” Wheeljack said gently as he placed a soft hand on her shoulder plate and leaned in closer to her. Peering through the magnifier, the scientist could see the damage to the troubled femme’s optics clearly and quickly ascertained what needed to be done in order to fix them. Pulling back slightly, the engineer grabbed a pair of mini-pliers before regarding Tracer with a concerned look. Thus far what he had done had been painless, but that was about to change. “Tracer, I’m going to work on your left optic first and then move on to your right. I need to remove the lens so that I can access and fix the circuitry within the eye, itself. The heat from the Syk has melted away some of the nerve receptors to the retinas in both optics which is why you cannot see. Once the connections are re-established, I will install a replacement lens and your vision should be restored as it was before. Okay?”

Wheeljack knew perfectly well that Tracer could not respond to him, but he spoke to her as if she could anyway. It was simply a force of habit that made no difference one way or the other. Bringing the mini-pliers up to bear, ‘Jack leaned in again and began using the tool to grasp a hold of the left lens by the delicate edges. Once the pliers were secured, he turned the lens clockwise, which unlatched it from the optic, itself. Removing the lens and setting it aside, the engineer retrieved a soldering pen from the repair kit and ignited it. This is where the real pain would start as the scientist began fixing the connections that had been severed by the highly addictive narcotic.

“Again, I’m very sorry. This is going to hurt,” Wheeljack warned her as he delved into her left optic with the soldering pen. It took only a short time to make the necessary repairs, but it probably felt like an eternity to Tracer who could do nothing but suffer through the procedure with no way to react. Although, it was probably not as bad as the agony she had already endured from the Syk withdrawals. “There,” the scientist muttered as he placed the soldering pen down and reached for the mini-pliers again. ‘Jack then installed a brand new lens, turning it counter-clockwise until it locked into place.

Wheeljack repeated the same process with Tracer’s right optic, encountering no issues as he performed the procedure again. The scientist persistently apologized to her, finding it very difficult knowing that he was causing her even more pain. Finally, repairs on both eyes were completed. “Okay, I’m all done now, Tracer. Whatever pain you felt should be going away now. Again, I’m sorry.”

Placing the tools back into the optical repair kit, Wheeljack stood up and walked to the nearest worktable. The mechanical engineer let out a deep sigh as he grabbed a clean rag and some Corrostop before returning to the white and blue scout’s side. “I’m going to try and scrub away some of the scorch marks from around your optics using Corrostop. As for the actual heat damage on the inner part of your sockets, I’ll need Axle’s expertise for that. You should feel no pain with this. I promise.” The scientist then applied some Corrostop to the rag and began to gently wipe away the ugly black marks that had stained her metal skin.

Wheeljack’s Lab

Tracer wanted more than anything to speak to Wheeljack…to let the worried scientist know that even though the repairs he was about to perform would cause her pain that she knew it was all necessary. Her attempts failed miserably. The paralysis that ravaged her frame also prevented her from using any of her sensors. She couldn't even open a comm link to send a reassuring message.

At first she could feel slight pressure, but that soon vanished. She then could hear Wheeljack explain what he was preparing to do and again apologize for her impending discomfort. The cool touch of metal from the pliers was the first sensation that she felt, but it was replaced by the feel of the tool remove the lens covering her optic.

As if she were even capable of doing it, Tracer prepared for the inevitable pain that was to come hoping that it would not be was bad as expected…and it wasn't…it was worse. Much, much worse. The scout wanted to scream but no matter what she tried nothing escaped her vocalizer. Not one muscle cable tensed…there was nothing. Trapped in a paralytic state with no means of expression but capable of sensing everything…it truly was a living hell.

And then it was over. The pain started to subside. Unfortunately she would not be able to reboot her optics until the paralyzing effects wore off, but at least she knew she’d be able to see again. The scorch marks that surrounded her optic sockets were going to be much more difficult to reverse. No big deal, Wheeljack. I can live with that. Oh yeah…you can’t hear me.

I really wish you could hear me. I owe you and Axle so much. I don’t think I could ever come close to repaying you both. I just hope a heartfelt thank you will be enough, because it’s really all I can offer. Her monologue would never make it out of her mouth even with her jaw locked in a slack position…she’d just have to be patient and speak with both the engineer and the medic when the Syk’s effects lessened.

Message from Kup to Ultra Magnus

>>"Magnus, the situation down here is ugly. We already have serious wounded, Autobots attacking Autobots and Decepticons attacking Autobots. I'm gonna try and get everyone out in one piece but its going to be messy. If you are going to come down here I ask you do it quickly."<<

Armory

Entering the armory, Prowl made a beeline to the ammunitions locker where he entered the appropriate security code which gave him access to the items within. He briefly rummaged through the compartment before locating the acid pellet cartridges for his rifle. Grabbing what he needed, the military strategist left the locker open for the rest of his team to acquire whatever ammo fit their weapons. Moving across the room, the black and white found one of the heavy duty containers where the more powerful explosive shells were stored. Again, he entered the required code and opened the top lid, exposing a variety of bombs and rockets. Prowl’s optics scanned the contents before leaning forward and retrieving a number of incendiary missiles. He then straightened his posture and carefully loaded them into his shoulder launchers.

Once he was fully equipped and ready to go, Prowl turned to face his team of Bumblebee, Freeway and Nova Strike. “Okay everyone, grab what you need and then we’ll make our way down to the bounce chamber. Ultra Magnus and Slingshot should have left the ship by now, so we should be able to leave immediately for our intended Earth-bound destination. If you have any further questions regarding our mission, now is the time to ask. Otherwise, we depart in two breems.”

Prowl’s words were direct and to the point, showing little to no emotion as he spoke them. Even though this was only a scouting mission, the logical mech took it very seriously as it was no less important than the task that now befell Magnus and the others who were trying to reel in Rodimus and his wayward band of rebels. Hopefully, success would be achieved on both fronts, but the military strategist could only be concerned about his own assignment. He needed to remain focused and trust that the City Commander would do what was necessary to reunite the Autobots once more. It was imperative in the overall war effort if they were to maintain an advantage against the Decepticons.

Walking over to the doorway of the armory, Prowl stood and waited for his scouting team to finish gathering what weapons and ammo they would require.

Bounce Chamber

Ultra Magnus tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the two support soliders he had summoned from the depths of the 22 to arrive. Tonton, a mechanism who specialized in Jungle Combat, and Bidder, a mechanism who specialized in defensive maneuvers. Neither had been given the opportunity to acquire an earth vehicle form since arriving in system but for the purpose of recovery, Magnus was not exactly in a place to quibble about details. Kup's emergency beacon had already bought out a terrifying reality of what was going on down there. Autobots were being overrun by other Autobots and a nest of Decepticons.

"So, we going to get this show on the road? I'm itchin to get another shot at clearing the skies before that idiot hypocrate Blades gets all the glory." Slingshot whined as he fastened the belt containing three EMP Mines into his internal drop magazines. "Not that he can do the job, he is a Protectobot after all."

Magnus glared down at the Aerialbot sharp shooter. He was about to order the immediate activation of the bounce protocols when the doors slid open to reveal a plump lime green barrel keg looking mechanism with forest green trim followed by a much more narrow profiled mechanism with a reverse forest camo pattern. "Bidder, Tonton..."

"Reporting as ordered. Ready to kick some Decepticon fender." The thicker Autobot cracked his knuckles as he stepped onto the reinforced bounce pad. The sound of plastics cracking under his incredible weight only served to worry Magnus. Bidder had some of the thickest armor available for deployment. Meaning he could help First Aid defend the wounded while the Protectobot Medic worked his magic.

For Tonton's acknowledgement he simply nodded. The lithe Autobot pulled out a Pathfinder rifle and slapped in a random ionized clip into the magazine chamber. He flicked the safety off and entered a ready position.

"Very well. Chief, Initiate Bounce."

Armory

Nova Strike broused through the collection of armorments as he waited for Bumblebee, Prowl and Freeway to gather their required weaponry complements. It wasn't as though he was a pacifist by nature, that prevented him from grabbing or accessing his own locker of weapons. It was far more simple. Nova Strike's primary armorments, his main high powered laser cannon was powered by internal batteries that were constantly charging, when the safeties were deactivated, and his two hand held specialized energy blasters were armed by recharge clips that were continually repowered and rotated by his own energy flow. In other words, Nova Strike gave his very life force to the cause.

Some doctors had recommeneded that he repair that supposed design flaw, but given his choosen function it was probably the most useful adaptation he had received upon his construction. Advanced sensors, a wide array of support items that were already topped off before the meeting, and his life sustaining batteries were all ready for whatever may arise.

Once he was done his brousing he stopped briefly at a small sphere that was held in a gravity display field. Quietly he reached out and palmed the small rotating device and pulled it free from the display. It immediately registered his security code information and began to hum mutedly. A second passed before a wave of red light passed over the sphere before it began to peel back its out side layer. Nova Strike's optics narrowed briefly before recognizing the small wrist watchesque device for what it was. A veridian isoliniar sensor band. As powerful as his sensors were, Nova was not adversed to taking a small technical advantage... even on a routine scouting mission.

He placed the device into a storage compartment on his arm before replacing the sphere back into the display field. "Alright Prowl, lets get this show on the road."

With that the ranger slapped Freeway and Bumblebee on the shoulders guiding them friendly towards the hall and the Bounce Chamber. "Next stop Urth"

Armory

The trek down to the armory hadn’t taken nearly as long as Bumblebee had anticipated, although that could have been due to the small mech’s mind wandering to just about everywhere. Cybertron…what happened there…what happened to Hot Rod. What was happening now. It was almost too much.

Upon their arrival at the munitions locker Bumblebee’s musings were interrupted by Prowl’s sudden announcement proclaiming that all the members of the team should grab what they needed as quickly as possible and then leave.

Bumblebee had never taken a liking to heavy artillery so instead the little scout preferred to arm himself with nothing more than a standard laser pistol, but since they were heading down to the planet’s surface and they had no idea what to expect, even though their mission was nothing more than a scouting mission…Bee’s specialty.

Laser pistol in hand Bee checked the weapon’s charge ensuring that it was ready…just in case. There were a set of green lights that illuminated up the side of the gun’s handle indicating that it was at full charge and only needed a squeeze of the trigger.

Bee cracked a small smile as he re-holstered the weapon and turned to meet the other. However he stopped suddenly in front of a shelving unit that held a series of explosive devices. The yellow minibot picked up a pair of plasma grenades and then took his time to grab several flash grenades. He was more inclined to confuse and disorientate any unwanted arrivals than actually kill them.

Bee nodded in satisfaction and then quickly moved out from between the shelving units and made his way to the other members of the team. He stopped to stand next to Nova Strike who promptly slapped him and Freeway on the shoulders.

“Heh. It’s Earth, Nova, not Urth.”

Bumblebee flashed the ranger a broad smile before looking back to their squad leader.

“I think we’re ready, Prowl.”

With a sage nod Bee worked his way to the door and left the armory for the bounce chamber. The sooner they arrived on the surface the faster they could inspect the area and determine if the location would suffice.

Having stocked himself up on the Guardian, Freeway was already well supplied but he made sure to pick up a few extra mines and plastic explosives which might prove useful in the upcoming days. Plastic explosives were always handy especially when infiltrating as it allowed him to shape the blast and specifically targets things like hinges on doors, joins on pipes without causing too much collateral damage.

“All set and ready to go, Prowl,” he said. Freeway was glad that First Aid had given him a clean bill of health, that should mean he'd get a chance to try out his de-coding equipment on all the strange human communications, he wondered if they would pose a challenge to crack, though judging by the amount of comms traffic coming from the planet he doubted they would all be encoded. It would be interesting to find out just what all those humans were talking about too, organics must have something to talk about after all.

Nova Strike steered the Throttlebot to the bounce chamber in his usual friendly manner, “If your hand gets any more friendly me Sparky you're going to have to buy my some energon,” Freeway said with a laugh and then looked at Nova Strike and Bumblebee discussed the name of the planet, “Just call it Solar Three to avoid confusion, it's the third planet in what Solar System. Nothing particularly special about it really though it's not nearly as screwed up as Cybertron but just give us time. Lets start abouncing!”

Corridors / Bounce Chamber

Once the members of the scouting team had made it known that they were all set and ready to depart, Prowl wasted no further time and immediately left the armory for the bounce chamber, the other mechs following close behind him. The military strategist traversed the corridors swiftly, not worrying about whether or not the rest of the team could keep up with his brisk pace. They all knew the way so even if someone got separated from the group, the ‘Bot in question would eventually catch up, creating only a minor delay. Still, time was of the essence and they needed to bounce down to the surface ASAP.

Entering the bounce chamber, the black and white discovered that Rewind was already there waiting for them to arrive. Prowl nodded at the diminutive cassette before making his way over to the control console and entering the coordinates into the computer. Their destination was a secluded valley within the Central Andes Mountains of Peru. It was there that they hoped to scout around and locate the perfect spot to set up the new Earth-bound Autobot base. Although, by the sounds of things, Ultra Magnus was describing more of a city than a mere base.

Regardless, the coordinates were now laid in, and Prowl regarded his team of explorers with a serious expression. “All right, the countdown has been set. We have exactly 30 astroseconds before the bounce beam is automatically initiated. Rewind, I will fill you in once we are on the surface. Now, let’s move.” The military strategist then walked across the room and stepped up onto the bounce pad, followed quickly by Bumblebee, Freeway, Nova Strike and the tiny archivist. Within moments, the scouting team was engulfed in a bright light before disappearing from sight.

(OOC: With Ember’s permission, I’ve moved this storyline along in order to save time. Members of the scouting team can now post in the new Earth thread, "Autobot City", once I’ve started it.)

Wheeljack’s Lab

The trek back from the Guardian to the 22 was made in mind numbing silence. He had done what he set out to do and found not only the diversionary tactician but the little wayward turbofox that seemed to want to continue to elude everyone…well, with the exception of Smokescreen.

Finally after what seemed like an eternity the two “hunters” stopped in front of the door to the engineer’s lab. Axle raised his hand and made ready to enter the code that would grant them entrance when he suddenly stopped and whirled around to face the red and blue rallybot. The medic transferred his slightly raised hand from in front of the keypad and placed it gently on Smokescreen’s shoulder.

“Look, Smokescreen, this…everything…I’m not gonna say I understand it, because Primus knows I don’t, but was it all worth it? I mean you might not be standing here right now if…”

Axle paused a moment but never gave a real opportunity for the smaller ‘Bot time to respond instead the black and green medic let out a huff and turned back to the keypad where he promptly entered the code and waited as the door slid to one side granting both mechs entrance.

“You know what; I think I already know the answer. Forget I asked.”

Axle sidled through the threshold and made straight for the back room where Tracer was located. On the way he regarded Wheeljack with a small smile and a slight nod. He’d check the engineer’s work on the femme’s optics, but something told him he needn’t worry about the sensors.

He stopped next to the slab and gave the prone femme a cursory sensor scan taking note of any abnormalities in her systems…everything seemed to be stable…good. Once the readings were satisfactory Axle moved up to the head of the slab and leaned down. The built in sensor scanner that just about all medics were equipped with initiated giving him a more in depth look at the inner workings of Tracer’s newly installed optics.

While he was busy taking reading and logging them into a memory file Axle heard a low groan coming from just below him. He raised his head slightly and took a look down at her entire frame. Her fingers flexed slightly followed by her hands. From his low stance Axle straightened up fully and watched as her jaw began to loosen and finally close fully.

“Tracer? Tracer, can hear me? It’s Axle.”

His question was answered by only anther groan. Axle let out a sigh as he placed a fist against her chestplates and roughly ground his knuckles into her armor in a circular motion. The uncomfortable pressure and pain caused her to online her optics…followed closely by a whimper that was laced with full blown anguish.

“Hey. Tracer, look at me. Focus!”

Finally able to move a bit more freely she tried to turn on her side in an attempt to curl up into as tight a ball as possible, but the medic’s hand still pressing achingly on her chestplate made it nearly impossible to adjust her position. The pressure suddenly subsided, it remained but it was much more tolerable and Tracer turned her head until she was facing in Axle’s general direction…she was still unfocused but the medic’s stern tone helped her to locate his position. The pale color of her optics was once again replaced by the deep sapphire that was their normal hue.

“Reboot your optics and tell me what you see.”

Tracer did as was told and lolled her head around trying to get a distinct picture of her surroundings. A few moments passed before she focused on Axle.

“Can…can see you.”

“Good.”

The medic lifted his hand in front of the femme’s face and raised one digit while the optical sensor he had used prior moved back into position over his own optic.

“Alright…I want you to follow my finger but don’t move your head.” From side to side the mech moved his hand and watched intently as she focused on just his digit. With a nod and a small smile Axle moved his hand from in front of her view and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“They’re working fine. However, you’re going to have to wait a while before I reinstall your enhancement protocols so don’t go trying to access them, got me?”

Axle’s order was only answered with a weak smile and low groan. The smile on Axle’s face faded as he watched her face twist up in agony. Unfortunately the pain was the one thing he couldn’t help her with.

“Hurts.” She croaked out.

“Yeah. I know, but I can’t give you anything. You’re going to have to ride it out. I’m sorry.”

Axle’s shoulders slumped as he let out a heavy sigh. This was going to be a very long process…for her and for them.

“Sm…Smokescreen?”

Her question broke the medic out of his musings and redirected his attention to the laboratory proper where Wheeljack and Smokescreen were located. Axle offered her a slight nod and made his way out to stand before the other two mechs.

“She wants to see you.”

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.

Wheeljack’s Lab

Once Tracer had calmed down enough, Wheeljack decided to let go of her entirely. He slowly stood to his full height and carefully moved away from the metallic slab she was still sitting on. She seemed to trust Smokescreen, but the troubled femme still believed ‘Jack was an orderly at the asylum and Axle to be someone called Compulsor. It was evident to the scientist that the hallucinogen would have to run its course even without the field medic having to tell him as much. The mechanical engineer let out a low sigh as Axle made his way to Wheeljack’s side. The black and green mech was about to say something when he received a comm from Ratchet, demanding that he return to the Guardian’s med bay at once.

“No problem, Axle,” Wheeljack said to the retreating field medic. “I’ve got things under control here, so don’t worry.” The scientist barely had time to finish his sentence when Axle had already disappeared into the corridor outside his lab. ‘Jack let out another sigh before he peered back over his shoulder plate at the pair of star-crossed lovers. The diversion expert seemed to be keeping her calm, but how long that would last was anyone’s guess.

It was then that Wheeljack remembered he had to put in for Smokescreen and Tracer’s assignment transfer to the mad scientist’s lab. To avoid scrutiny with the higher-ups, ‘Jack decided to request approval through the automated transfer system via the Ark-22’s computer. With the engineer’s officer status, it should be no problem getting the transfer okayed without drawing any unwanted attention. Thus the white mech wasted no more time and made his way to the nearest terminal, entering the appropriate access codes as soon as he sat down. Before long he had gained admittance to the system and quickly typed in the request to have the diversion expert and troubled femme reassigned to his lab for the foreseeable future, or at least until everything that needed to be resolved was, in fact, resolved to everyone’s satisfaction.

There, that should do it, Wheeljack thought to himself as he turned around in his chair to check on the pair of mechs once more. They seemed to be doing okay with Smokescreen talking to her in a calm manner. Perhaps he was telling her another story to help jog her memory. Just as long as Tracer remained relaxed everything would be okay and a tranquilizer would not be needed. All there was for the scientist to do now was wait for the approval to come through the automated system.
_________

While Smokescreen was relieved that Tracer seemed to trust him, he was disheartened to discover that she still didn’t fully remember him and continued to think that Wheeljack and Axle worked at the asylum. She also refused to believe that a war had broken out or that she was really on board the Ark-22. The drug-addled femme then begged for him to get her out of the asylum, a look of desperation etched on her faceplate. “I’m here to help you, Tracer, in any way that I can,” Smokey insisted as he held her hand to comfort her. Axle’s whispered vocals then registered in the rallybot’s audio receptors as the field medic informed him that the hallucinogen was going to have to run its course and that he should keep her talking, hoping a tranquilizer would not be necessary.

Smokescreen gave no verbal response to the black and green medic, only nodding slightly before Axle moved away to speak with Wheeljack. That left the diversion expert alone to help the troubled scout regain her memory. Before he had the chance to say anything further, she had gotten up off of the slab and moved around behind the kneeling rallybot, whispering something to him about a quiet room. Smokey stood up and turned around to face the worried femme, placing his hands onto her shoulder plates as a gentle smile formed on his visage.

“No one’s putting you in a quiet room, I promise,” Smokescreen reassured her as he took a single step closer to Tracer. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you. You can trust me. You’ve always been able to trust me, remember?” The rallybot gazed into her optics, hoping to find some sign of her memory returning. He had already succeeded to a certain extent with the story of their second meeting, but it hadn’t been enough. Therefore, perhaps it was time for another story, one that would bring even more of her memories back from the confines of her processor and wake her up to the current reality that she was living in.

Removing both of his hands from her shoulders, Smokescreen lowered them until he had her own actuators intertwined with his. “Tracer, I know you don’t remember the war breaking out, but it did and it’s still going on to this day, countless vorns later. It ultimately tore us apart but not before you saved me from making the biggest mistake of my life, remember? After our second meeting at the bar, we spent a lot of additional time together. I helped you by winning more credits at the Iacon casinos and giving them to you whenever you needed them. I even taught you how to cheat without getting caught. I never asked what the credits were for. I just wanted to help you. I never realized until recently just how bad your problems were. Had I known back then, I would’ve done things differently to help you.”

Smokescreen looked away for a moment before returning his apologetic optics to her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t see past my own selfish and deceitful nature. By teaching you those same traits, I was enabling you and your addiction. I was blind to your troubles just as I was blind to what was going on around us regarding the Decepticon uprising until it was too late. When that ‘Con sympathizer approached me with the hopes of recruiting me into their ranks, it was you that showed me that while I may be a lier and a cheater, I was certainly no murderer like Megatron and his goons. Change was certainly needed with all of the corruption in the senate, but not like that. You were the reason I joined the Autobots, why we both ended up joining. Remember? You saved me long before I got around to saving you, and I’ll never forget that.”

The diversion expert then slowly leaned in and kissed Tracer delicately on her chevron, all the while keeping her hands gently grasped within his own. Once the show of affection was delivered, Smokescreen pulled back again and smiled at her. “Trace, do you remember the ‘Con who had tried to recruit me? I didn’t give him an answer right away. Instead, I came to you for guidance and told you how I had always looked up to him before the war and that I was seriously considering accepting his offer. He had been a champion racer alongside the likes of Blurr, at least until the Cybertronian races had been shut down due to several Decepticon terrorist attacks. He was someone I had inspired to be just like back then, hoping to one day escape from the illegal street racing circuit and win it all in the big leagues. Remember his name, Trace?”

Wheeljack’s Lab

Tracer waited as Smokescreen stood back up from his kneeling position and turned around to face her. She only flinched slightly when he placed his hands on her shoulders but it was his gentle smile that ultimately settled her down. He seemed so sincere how could she not trust him? After all, he did say he was there to help her in any way he could.

His soothing words did comfort her unsure mind but there were still those “other” things that had to be addressed. Namely what she heard. “I was there one time. It didn’t stop the…” She cut herself off her train of thought completely lost. She searched his features for any sign that he might be trying to trick her into something…anything…there wasn’t. So sincere.

Tracer off-lined her optics and turned her head up to the ceiling letting out a heavy, weary sigh. Everything seemed so complicated what with being stuck in the asylum and being told that she was wrong. Then there was that bit about a war…and Syk? After several minutes of quiet contemplation Tracer raised her hands to the sides of her head and gently rubbed. Her processor hurt. There was just so much to take in. She on-lined her optics just as Smokescreen began to relate another story from her supposed past. The femme didn’t refuse to listen instead she focused on everything he said…she watched his every move…took note of all of his nuances.

It meant nothing. She accepted his sweet show of affection and leaned in closer when he pressed his lips to her chevron, but it still failed to bring back anything he thought she should remember. And once he was finished she offered him a small pained smile before shaking her head gently.

“No. I don’t. I don't remember.” Tracer carefully pulled away from Smokescreen and made her way back to the slab where she sat back down. She had torn her gaze from the blue and red mech and focused instead on her hands that were resting gently in her lap. The silence between them was deafening, but for Tracer she could hear everything. “I just want the screaming to stop. I can hear it more now…screaming, whimpered cries and most of them are not mine…at least not anymore.” She looked up from her hands for a moment. “At first it was the whispers…the disparaging looks…even upturned olfactory sensors that made me want to give up. Then I came here.”

The scout sighed lowly and slid back off the slab. She began to pace slowly in front of the rallybot…it wasn’t panic that drove her but instead a need to just move. “And then the screams started. ‘It’s normal’, they told me. ‘You’ll get used to it. You’ll forget all about it once you’ve had more sessions and in a vorn you’ll be cured’.” Tracer stopped in front of Smokescreen and shook her head gently. “That vorn’s long past and nothing’s changed. But…” She raised her hand and lightly brushed her fingertips along his cheek. “…you said before that you were here to help me…that you would help me in any way you can.”

The blue and white scout flashed a pained smile and stepped in just a little bit closer to the diversionary tactician. “Help me; help me make the screaming stop. They’ll never let me go and I’m tired… so very tired of hearing it.” She paused for just a moment before leaning in and placing a scant kiss on his lip plates. The gesture only lasted but a moment before Tracer pulled back far enough to whisper low so that only he could hear. “I tried. I tried to make it stop…to make it all stop, but I found out I can’t do it myself. Someone else has to do it. You have to do it.” Tracer pulled away so that she could look Smokescreen in the optics…an anguished, pleading look had made its way onto her visage… “Please.”

Wheeljack’s Lab

Another wave of disappointment washed over Smokescreen’s faceplate as Tracer told him that she could not remember the name of the Decepticon who had tried to recruit him so long ago. How could she have forgotten the one mech, a former Cybertronian racing champion, that the diversion expert had been a die hard fan of back then and who almost convinced him that the ‘Con way was the only way? The hallucinogen element in this batch of Syk was very strong, indeed, and it would take even more prodding from the rallybot in order to shake the memories from the troubled femme’s damaged processor. He had hoped that all this would have begun to wear off by now, but it appeared that there was no end in sight, not without the proper push back into reality.

Smokescreen kept a close optic on Tracer as she pulled away from him and moved back to the metallic slab where she sat down again. The diversion expert remained standing as he listened to her describe the screaming she had heard during her stay in the asylum. Smokey knew that it had been a terrible ordeal for her, but this just added a whole new layer to her suffering while incarcerated there. The rallybot wanted to say something but stopped when the hallucinating femme slid off of the berth and began to pace, continuing her descriptions of the screams and how she was told that they were normal and that she would adjust to them in time. Oh, how much Smokey wanted to go back in time and give those orderlies a real thrashing. He wanted to make them all pay for the tortures they had inflicted on Tracer when all she really wanted was to get some help and all they did was make things far worse.

The blue and white scout then moved in closer to Smokescreen and begged him to help her make the screaming stop forever. Tracer leaned forward and placed a delicate kiss on the diversion expert’s lips, a gesture he returned to her before she pulled back and whispered to him how she had tried to make it stop before but that she had failed. She needed someone else to do it and that someone was the red and blue racer standing in front of her. Smokey had said he would do anything to help her and she took him literally at his word.

Smokescreen stared back at the troubled femme as she pleaded with him to end the screaming. At first he was unsure what exactly to do for her. Did she want him to remove her audio receptors or shut them down somehow? No, that doesn’t make any sense at all, the rallybot thought as his gaze remained fixated on Tracer’s desperate visage. After a few more astroseconds, Smokey finally understood what she meant by “make it all stop.” It wasn’t just the screaming that she wanted to stop. It was her very spark and thus her overall suffering. Doing so herself wouldn’t work, not in the asylum as the orderlies would get to her in time and repair whatever damage she had managed to cause. Tracer had no control over anything in that place, not even her own life.

“No,” the diversionary tactician replied with a shocked expression etched deeply on his faceplate. He took a step back from her as his mouth quivered with what he was about to say to her next. “Are you serious? You want me to end your life!? No! NO! I will NOT do that, Tracer! I will not! I can NOT!!” An emotional Smokescreen looked to the ceiling and then to the floor as he searched for the right words. He wanted to avoid calling her crazy or insane as that would only make things worse. Still, he needed to get through to her somehow and he needed to do so now.

Smokescreen returned his full attention to the troubled femme who was now asking him to extinguish her own spark. He moved towards her quickly and grabbed her firmly by the shoulder plates again. “Now you listen to me, Tracer, I will NOT kill you, not now, not EVER! Do you understand me?! I just got done risking my own spark to save yours and to help you beat this eternal addiction to Syk! Remember?!” The rallybot shook the troubled femme as he raised his voice so that she would be sure to hear him over some non-existent screaming. “Remember how I went down with you to Earth, the planet that we are currently orbiting? Remember how you went to see your dealer, Oil Slick, in order to get more Syk? Then I followed you and attacked him, stealing some of the drug before we raced back to the shuttle. Your dealer followed and my old body was decimated by his acidic chemicals. REMEMBER?! You came to my rescue and when we finally got back up here to the Ark-22, Wheeljack and Axle saved my Trinity organs and built me a whole new body from scratch. They’re NOT orderlies, they’re our friends! They helped us! I almost died for you, Tracer! I was willing to sacrifice myself to save you, so I’ll be damned if I help you to die!!”

The rallybot held firm to the troubled femme’s now shaking body, desperate to finally get through to her. “You will remember, Tracer! You have to remember! You will dig deep inside of your processor and pull out these memories that I know are still in there. Because death is simply not an option, Tracer! No way in the Pit! I love you too much and I refuse to harm you in any way, shape or form!” Smokescreen paused for a moment, allowing himself to finally calm down long enough for him to regain some semblance of composure. “Now, tell me the name of the ‘Con that tried to recruit me,” Smokey continued, this time in a whispered tone. “You know his name. Tell me what it is! Tell me that you remember not only that but everything else, as well!”
_________

The computer console began to beep, drawing Wheeljack’s attention back to the terminal. After a moment of scanning the screen, the mechanical engineer saw exactly what he wanted to see. The automated system had granted the transfer requests for both Tracer and Smokescreen. They were now officially reassigned to the mad scientist’s lab until further notice, giving them all plenty of time to sort things out to everyone's satisfaction.

Good, now I can move on to more important matters, Wheeljack thought as he stood back up and made his way across the main lab to where the replicator was still sitting on one of the worktables. Considering the troubled femme’s adverse reaction to the reproduced Syk, it was now necessary to re-calibrate the amount of hallucinogen within the narcotic, lowering the levels to such a degree that would avoid a similar reaction with future doses. The white mech had to be careful not to lower the offending element too much or even eliminate it all together as that could also cause a negative reaction that could be just as bad as seeing things that weren’t there. The Syk still needed to keep Tracer’s underlying condition under control as well as her addiction for the time being. Altering the drug too much might decrease its effectiveness, causing her withdrawal symptoms to return much sooner than normal and possibly with greater intensity.

As Wheeljack began accessing the Syk ingredients that were stored on the replicator’s processor, the sound of Smokescreen yelling at Tracer drew the mechanic’s attention away from the device. “Now what?” The scientist muttered quietly to himself as he moved away from the worktable and over to the doorway that lead into the back room. ‘Jack stopped in his tracks as he listened to the red and blue racer tell the hallucinating femme that he would not assist in terminating her life before informing Tracer of all that he had sacrificed recently to help her. The rallybot was clearly desperate now, trying everything he could to make her remember that she was no longer in the asylum. Whether this more aggressive approach would work any better than previous attempts was yet to be seen. It was all that could be done at this point since she apparently wanted to kill herself, a likely byproduct of the hallucinogen.

Regardless, Wheeljack decided to keep his distance and let the diversion expert deal with the situation as he saw fit. Smokescreen seemed to know Tracer better than anyone and thus that made him sort of a de facto expert when it came to her well being. If the engineer’s help was required, he would certainly be there for his red and blue friend. Until that time, however, ‘Jack simply waited over by the entranceway with cautious optimism that the hallucinogen would finally start to wear off soon.

Wheeljack’s Lab

Tracer’s newly repaired optics remained trained on Smokescreen as she waited with some semblance of patience for the blue and red mech to respond to her request. She was desperate for it all to end…the pain, the voices, the suffering…all of it needed to end. She knew there was no leaving the asylum; no escaping either. The only way out was by her own initiative, which had already proven unsuccessful, or, now, employ an envoy on her behalf…which is where Smokescreen came in.

The small unsure smile that was on Tracer’s face faltered when the mech before her finally gave her the answer she was waiting for; unfortunately it was not the answer she desired. She was ready to make another plea when Smokescreen quickly moved toward her and grabbed her firmly by the shoulders. The movement caught Tracer off guard forcing her to take half a shaky step back. Her optics brightened in surprise at what then flowed from the diversionary tactician’s vocalizer; it was both unexpected and disheartening.

A deep frown worked onto her face as she cringed ever so slightly at the mech’s raised voice. Tracer listened, unfortunately that was the only thing she could do while the upset bot tried to convince her that her way was not the right way. How could he possibly know what was right for her or what could help her? Her mind whirled with other possibilities if this endeavor did not pan out the way she liked.

Again, his aggressive actions had Tracer flinching unsure if he would go beyond just jostling her to get his point across.

And then he stopped. He began to calm down which made it easier for him to compose himself. Tracer watched his every move the vigor with which he had presented his case was intense…he believed in her, he believed that what he was telling her was the truth. If that was so then why didn’t she?

His calm, soothing whispered question drew her in completely, but her mind simply could not process the answer he was after. She stared at him…gazing into his optics…a grief-stricken expression etched deep onto her face. Several long moments passed before she frowned and gently shook her head in the negative. She just couldn’t remember.

Tracer let out a low moan before stepping in close to Smokey. She gently laid her head on his shoulder resting it just beside his cheek. Her arms then snaked around and under his arms until the palms of her hands pressed firmly against his back. The femme pressed in close and whispered into his audio. “I’m sorry. I just don’t…I’m sorry.”

She stayed like that for nearly a full breem, her optics off-line and her frame pressed close to his. And then a smile tugged at the corners of her lips and she on-lined her optics, yet she refused to pull away. Instead she whispered to him…low and sure. “It was Drag Strip. You loved watching him race. Hated it when I told you Blurr was so much better.” Tracer paused a moment trying to gather her thoughts and search through the newly-found lost memories. “”You are so much better than you think you are.”" "That’s what I told you. That’s what I believed, and that’s what I’d hoped you believed.”

Wheeljack’s Lab

Smokescreen waited patiently for an answer as Tracer stepped in closer to him and placed her head onto his shoulder plate. The diversion expert’s anger and aggression all but disappeared at the feeling of her arms wrapping around him with her open hands against his back. He returned the favor by pulling her into his own loving embrace. Smokey then listened as she whispered into his audio receptor that she still could not remember the name of the ‘Con who had tried to recruit him. The resulting reaction from the rallybot was not more anger this time, but sadness as another exasperated sigh escaped from his vocalizer.

The red and blue racer off-lined his optics and remained silent, all the while continuing to hold her close to him. Perhaps the sound of his own spark pulsating within his chest cavity would elicit some kind of memory from her. It was certainly worth a try even if it was a long shot to be certain. Then, after what seemed like a million breems, Smokescreen heard the troubled femme in his arms whisper to him again. The rallybot half expected her to plead with him again to help her end her life, but instead she finally said the name, Drag Strip! But, not only that, Tracer remembered how she had told Smokey that Blurr was a better racer and how much the diversion expert thought that was a load of slag, at least at the time, anyway.

“Yes!” Smokescreen exclaimed as he on-lined his optics and pulled back only slightly so that he was able to gaze down into her tortured visage. “That’s right, Tracer, it was Drag Strip! I knew you would remember! And I remember arguing with you for cycles on end that he was a far better racer than the overrated Blurr. Of course, little did I know Drag’s true nature underneath that famous facade he exhibited for his fans, including myself. What a major letdown it was for me to find out what kind of fragger he really was. I didn’t want to believe it at first, but you made me see the truth and also to believe in myself as being more than just a street racer and gambler. You showed me that I could be someone important and that I could make a real difference. It’s the whole reason I joined the Autobots.”

The rallybot cast a warm smile at her, hoping that the memories trapped within her processor would start to pour out now. However, he could not stop prodding her for more of those precious memories. Smokescreen needed to keep at it for Tracer’s sake. “Remember when we first enlisted? We both went down to the local recruitment center and did it together. We even ended up in the same boot camp! Remember? You were so nervous while I was acting all calm and cool even though I was just as nerve racked as you. The drill sergeant really busted my chops back then, practically knocked the smirk right off my faceplate. Remember who that was, Tracer? Come on, you know him! He's pretty hard to forget!”
_________

Wheeljack remained by the doorway to the back room as he watched the tense situation between Smokescreen and Tracer dissolve into a calm and loving embrace. The mad scientist let out a relieved sigh as the rallybot continued to expand upon their story, prompting her to give him more and more information regarding their past together. Good, keep it up, Smokey, the white mech thought to himself. She should eventually come out of her delusional state. Just don’t let up. Persistence and patience are all that’s required now.

The mechanical engineer made no attempt to relay any of his thoughts to Smokescreen as he didn’t want to disrupt what the diversion expert was already doing. The rallybot had things well in hand and all was once again peaceful in the lab. Hopefully, that would continue to last for more than a breem or two with no further outbursts from the love ‘Bots. Thus, Wheeljack saw no reason to remain loitering near the doorway and quickly turned and made his way back to the workbench where the replicator was still waiting for him.

“Now, where was I?” Wheeljack muttered to himself as he sat down on a stool in front of the table. “Oh, yes, I need to recalibrate the hallucinogen within the program matrix. Shouldn’t be too hard.” The scientist then grew quiet as he went to work on re-programming his invention so that Smokescreen wouldn’t have to retell his and Tracer’s life story after each time the drug-addicted femme was given a dosage of Syk.