Title: First Kill
Fandom: Transformers
Author: Feathered Fiend
Characters: Ratchet, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker
Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort/Romance
Rating: M
Status: One Shot, Complete
Disclaimer: I do not own.
Warning: AU Pre-Movie. This also contains Slash. Slightly out of character. Very... despressing.

"By three methods we may learn wisdom: First, by reflection, which is noblest; Second, by imitation, which is easiest; and third by experience, which is the bitterest."

Servos trembled, his azure optics dimmed as they stared down at them—so much Energon, so much death. He felt as if he couldn't intake air properly, his processor flickering and fighting stasis lock. His broad shoulders shook and he felt like offlining all together. He heard something—'Ratchet, Ratchet, Ratchet'—but couldn't really focus. All he could see was the energon, his servos covered in it—he offlined someone. His tanks shifted painfully, he needed heave—'Ratchet, Ratchet, Ratchet!'—and offline. He needed too, he deserved to—'Ratchet, Ratchet!'

He felt someone grab his shoulder—'Ratchet, Ratchet!'—and spun him around—'look at me!'—but all he could see was the energon. Fingers moved under his chin, he felt his head being lifted and his trace broke. His optic sensors met that of another shade of azure—worry, so much worry in them. His body trembled as those optics searched his, the worry not leaving him—'can you hear me?'—and only grew with the silence. He felt arms wrap around him from behind, pushing him into the being in front of him.

He was held by another set of arms, sandwiched between two bodies—ones he knew, ones that loved him. His helm fell on a silver shoulder, a sob escaping his vocalizer—because he killed someone, offlined them without another thought. He could feel their gentle caresses, hear their reassuring words—'it was not your fault, Ratch', 'you saved us'—but it didn't stop the flow from his optics. He didn't want to be weak—not around them—but he couldn't stop, they didn't complain—because it made their lover seem normal, because this was his first kill.

None knew how long they stayed like that, holding onto the medic while he wept into one of his twins—Sideswipe, to be exact—but it didn't seem long enough. He claimed himself and just seemed to rest between the two—because they made him feel safe, because they didn't hate him. Their touches did not stop—because they were afraid—but they knew the silence couldn't last. The yellow twin spoke first—'Ratchet,' he whispered—and was surprised when the medic turned his head, stared with saddened azure optics.

"Sunstreaker," he mumbled—because he was tired, because he wanted to leave this bloodied field.

"Ratch," the other twin smiled meekly, "thought we lost you there for an astrosecond."

He didn't reply—because he offlined someone, because he didn't deserve anything more then death. The twins sensed this and sent a glance to one another—speaking through their bonded sparks, like twins do. The yellow one nodded slowly, the red one meekly smiled while stroking the helm of their lover. The deal was set in that moment, the one behind the medic slowly pulled him back—because they needed to fix this, they couldn't lose the only one to care about them.

"Ratchet, it's not your fault," the yellow twin whispered against his lover's neck. "He was going to kill Sideswipe and I, you were protecting us."

"He's right, Ratch'," the red one—Sideswipe—added quickly while taking the medic's servos in his. Metal rubbed against metal, he gave a reassuring smile—because that was what the sandwiched mech needed. "If you hadn't attacked, we'd be dead."

"I'm a killer," he mumbled and looked away. "I'm supposed to save lives, not take them…"

"You're a hero," Sunstreaker responded swiftly.

Sideswipe added, "You saved our lives."

There was silence—because he knew they were right, because he didn't want to admit, because he was scared. They sensed it and took action, beginning to nuzzle and coddle the medic. Sunstreaker even murmuring 'I love you's to him, something that the frontliner hardly ever did. Slowly, the medic relaxed against the two and offlined his optics. They took this as a good sign—which it was in this situation, with this mech.

"Let's get you back," Sunstreaker spoke gently. Ratchet onlined his optics and stared at the twins, observing them with saddened expressions. "We'll get you cleaned up."

Sideswipe nodded in agreement, "and get you to recharge, you need it."

Ratchet only nodded and allowed them to help him up, leading him to one of the ships that lined the battlefield. They kept his optics switching between them—away from the corpses, away from his servos—and attempted to please him—by teasing each other and telling stories. He played along—forcing smiles and soft looks, nodding once in awhile—and they knew it. They also knew that in due time, he would be back to normal—because that was how first kills go, because he had them to remind him, to love him.

.Author's Note.

I don't know, I was sitting here working on another one shot for Ratchet/Starscream and for some reason, this came out of it. It's unbeta'ed, so I'm sorry for mistakes. I basically got to thinking; Ratchet is a medic, his first kill in the war must have been painful for him. The first paragraph was written. Then I thought 'why the hell would he kill someone?' Sunny and Sides being in danger seemed like a good idea. Then everything else fell in place.

Hope everyone enjoyed this little piece. It's short, I know, but it was a plot bunny that kept nipping. Reviews would be nice, flames will be used to roast hot dogs over. ;]