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A Ratchet and Terror Twins Story

Chapter One: Vagabonds

It was a freezing night-cycle on the planet Cybertron. Very few of the world's inhabitants were out due to the chill, and those that were had more than likely gotten over-energized and wandered about looking for a warm, peaceful place to recharge before the next morning's hangover. In Iacon, one particular red and white mech was hurrying back to his apartment so he could warm up under a thermal blanket and relax from a stressful work-cycle.

Ratchet worked for the YHPC (Youngling's Hospital of the Prime's Creations) as a medic and had had a long day of stubborn sparklings and younglings fighting their rudimentary scans and necessary shots. All that the good doctor wanted now was some Energon, read that data-pad he'd been meaning to finish, and a good recharge to finish out the cycle.

Ratchet was only a few blocks away from his home when he cut down an alleyway to curtail a little more time from his commute. Ratchet took this alley home every now and again when he worked later than usual. He knew he would be fine walking down it from experience, but he still unsubspaced his wrench just in case.

The alley was neither narrow nor wide. There was a dumpster at either end with warped, plastic boxes piled up around both of them; and a single lamp, too dim to light the entire way but bright enough to aid in sight until you reached the other side, hanging on the left wall. Ratchet was half-way through the alley when he heard the boxes by the dumpster behind him shift. He knew there were no glitch-mice down here, the buildings' owners kept the alleyway too clean for that, so that could only mean one thing—ambush.

Not today, Ratchet thought as, on instinct, he lobbed his wrench right at the noise. The medic had naturally excellent aim, having taken Cyber-Archery in high school, and knew he had hit his mark when the shifting stopped, and a high-pitched scream of bloody murder and spark-breaking sobs came from the overturned boxes.

I must have aimed low. Ratchet winced a little to himself as he went towards the warped materials to retrieve his wrench and check on his unfortunate mugger. Serves whoever it was right for trying to sneak up on me, though. As the wails continued, the medic felt like something was amiss. Why isn't he cursing me out? Surely a thief on the streets would do that rather than cry?

Before the red and white mech got very close to the boxes however, Ratchet's wrench was flung clumsily back in his direction. If that didn't shock the medic, then the desperate pleas from a tiny voice buried in front of him did.

"Don' die, Sunny," the little voice sobbed. "I don' wanna be alone!" As the sentence ended in a spark-breaking wail, Ratchet began to quickly clear away the boxes. When he removed most of them from his view, what the medic saw broke his spark.

In front of him, in a small tattered box turned on its side, were two dirty little younglings, by all appearances just a vorn or two out of sparklinghood. One was dusty yellow, a pronounced dent in his helm, and out like a light in his smoky red friend's arms. The red youngling cradled the other closely and protectively, optics overflowing, and pierced Ratchet to the spark with a look of immense fear. They were both lying on an old and ratty thermal blanket, probably used as both a berth and covering, and a single crusted-over Energon cube was spilt behind them. Ratchet's spark clenched on him, guilt churning deep within it.

Scrap, scrap, scrap, scrap, SCRAP! Ratchet thought frantically. He had harmed a youngling, a baby even! It went against everything that he stood for! And by the look the yellow youngling's friend was giving him, he probably wouldn't be allowed to get close enough to even try to fix his mistake without scaring the red youngling even further. But Ratchet had to help, so he lowered himself to the ground, meeting the red youngling at optic level and trying to appear less intimidating.

"Wake up, Sunny," the red youngling begged quietly, watching the red and white medic's movements with terrified concentration. "Ya gotta wake up."

"Maybe I . . . would be able to help?" Ratchet asked softly.

The frightened youngling reacted just as the medic suspected and gathered his yellow friend closer. "Why?" It sounded more like an accusation than a question.

"I'm sorry youngling," Ratchet replied as he steadily reached behind himself for his wrench, trying to remove the instrument that caused this mess. "I thought I was about to be mugged."

The red youngling's helm locked on to where Ratchet's servo was heading and backed up quickly, still clutching the yellow form close to his chassis. Ratchet wasn't surprised that the youngling was afraid of him, or at the very least his wrench. The poor thing probably thought the medic was going to 'finish the job' and offline them both. To get rid of that thought, Ratchet quickly grabbed his wrench and subspaced it in clear view for the youngling.

"Don't worry, brightspark," Ratchet said soothingly as he slowly backed up, "that bad old wrench is gone now." He motioned to the general area around him. The red youngling didn't look very convinced and was still huddled in the farthest corner of the box from Ratchet. "I won't harm you or your friend. He's hurt and I'm a medic for younglings like you. That means I can help him. I can fix him."

The red youngling looked down at his yellow companion, cuddled him closer, and mumbled, "But-but doc-bots're always mean to us! They poke us and hurt us and do mean things! They say it's cause we're twins!" He looked up at Ratchet crying hard. "Promise ya not gonna do bad stuff!"

Ratchet was shocked. He was dealing with twins! Probably even split-sparks! He should have seen the similarities in frame and facial construction, but he was far more caught up in the injured youngling to notice. The "doc-bots" the red youngling was referring to must have been sparkling scientists that studied the development of split-spark twins, a rarity for their species. Judging from the red sparkling's fear, the scientists must have been extraordinarily cruel.

Ratchet looked the red youngling in the optic and smiled gently.

"I promise I won't hurt you or your brother, youngling; not all medics are mean," Ratchet crawled forward until he was only a small distance from the duo. He looked at the red youngling to see if he still had objections to his actions before sending a scan over the yellow youngling to find where his injury was most serious.

"What's that do?" the red twin asked in a frightened tone, curling closer to his companion.

Ratchet stopped his scan and took an intake. "I'm sorry, I didn't tell you what I was doing or what the scan did. It just tells me where he is hurt the most."

"Isn' that the dent?"

Ratchet cringed at the simple question and its possible nightmarish answers and decided to change topic as he restarted the scanner, "So, what are your designations?"

The red youngling looked at Ratchet in confusion. "Desi-whatsits?"

Younglings, Ratchet reminded himself. "Your names. I heard you call him Sunny, but maybe that's just your nickname for him."

The red youngling shrugged. "I'm Sideswipe; he's Sunstreaker. Why?"

"I just like knowing my patients is all." Ratchet stated, having finished his scan of the yellow youngling and found that, besides a lack of fuel, he was only knocked out. The dent, though large, hadn't caused any major damage. A huge weight lifted from the medic's shoulders. "Your brother is going be out of it for a while, but he'll be fine after a good rest," Ratchet smiled reassuringly as he moved a small magnet over Sunstreaker's dent to lift it a little.

Sideswipe's relieved yet teary smile lifted the medic's spirit somewhat, but their condition still had him worried. Where were these younglings' creators? Did they know where their creations were? Did they know what condition they were in? Why were these poor creatures in a cold alleyway by themselves?

"Listen," Ratchet started, gaining the red youngling's attention, "I've got some Energon at my place and a few extra thermal blankets. Would you like to stay with me until I can contact your creators? They must be worried about you."

Sideswipe shook his helm sadly. "We don't have any."

Ratchet spark sank. He knew that could mean several things, but he wouldn't pry into the situation. These poor younglings had just met him, under less than pleasant circumstances, and he needed to get them taken care of immediately.

"Well," he started shakily, "would you like to come with me anyway? I can't just leave you out here; it's freezing and Sunstreaker's dent needs to be buffed out. My place isn't that far away."

Sideswipe gave Ratchet a shocked look. The doc-bot wanted to take them with him? He wanted to fix Sunny? He stared at his unconscious brother and thought really, really hard. If they went with the bot that hurt Sunny, he might hurt them again accidentally or otherwise, or he might lying to them and dump them in a worse part of Iacon. But what if he was the one bot on the whole of Cybertron that might actually care for them? He did, after all, try and help his twin. He even offered them Energon and a warm place to stay. Sideswipe decided that the pros outweighed the cons.

Sideswipe looked at Ratchet and slightly loosened his grip on Sunstreaker, "Promise to fix his dent?" He had to be sure for the both of them, but anything was better than where they were at.

Ratchet's spark nearly burst from sadness and relief. "Yes, I promise to fix his dent." The medic then reached out and gently wiped away some of the red youngling's stray tears. "I also promise to give you a safe place to stay."

Satisfied, Sideswipe made a hesitant motion for Ratchet to pick them up. The medic did so gently, settling one youngling in each of his arms. Sideswipe sank with relief into the red and white shoulder as they left for Ratchet's apartment, leaving that unhappy alleyway behind.

*break*

The door to Ratchet's apartment slide open. The medic's home was a simple beige color and decently-sized. Coming in was a plain and simple living room with a white couch in the middle and a small metal Energon table in front of it. There was a vid-screen hanging on the wall with a shelf with a few data-pads beside it and a pot of Praxian crystals growing in the corner. Further in was an open concept kitchen with a hallway beside the Energon dispenser leading to the bedrooms and washracks. The lights were automatically lit to a dim setting due to the time.

"Here we are," Ratchet sighed before placing the younglings on his couch and going over to the Energon dispenser. He filled three cubes, two little and one big one, and dissolved some supplements in the twins' cubes. The medic handed a small cube to Sideswipe, saying, "Here you go. Drink it all up and you'll feel better."

Sideswipe eyed the cube for a full astrosecond before bringing it to his mouth plates eagerly. However, the red youngling had barely taken a sip when he was struck with a sudden thought. He pointed at Sunstreaker and asked, "How's Sunny gonna 'fuel?"

Ratchet pulled out a thermal blanket and his repair kit from the closet close to the door, saying, "He'll be fine. I'm going to feed the Energon straight into his fuel lines while I fix his dent; it'll be like he's on a drip." He returned to the couch and pulled the thermal blanket around the red youngling's shoulders before turning his attention to the unfortunate yellow twin.

Ratchet pulled out a thin tube with a needle attached to the end from his repair kit and stuck the open end into the bottom of the other small cube. Sideswipe shrunk back when he saw the needle and grabbed Sunstreaker's servo. He didn't know what a drip was, but he did know that the pointy bit on the end hurt like Pit going in. It always hurt.

"Don't worry," Ratchet quickly soothed, "It will pinch a little, but it'll help make him feel better."

Ratchet gently removed Sideswipe's protective servo before the medic rubbed the yellow servo gently to find the right cable to feed Energon into. After finding it, he lifted the other end of the tube and gently slid the needle into Sunstreaker's little fuel lines, allowing gravity to pull the pink fluid into his systems. Sideswipe was watching all the while like a cyber-hawk, flinching when he felt the needle pinch into Sunny's system.

Since they were split-spark twins, they could feel when the other was hurt or in danger. However, the red youngling somewhat trusted Ratchet with his brother and focused on gulping down his own Energon. But Sideswipe would glance up at his brother every now and then in concern as Ratchet began buffing out little Sunstreaker's dent gently.

The medic was taking great care in not causing more damage to the softer metal. Youngling frames had to be handled carefully due to their more delicate and flexible consistency, which only made Ratchet feel all the worse for causing the injury.

By the time Sideswipe had finished his cube; Ratchet had finished fixing his brother's dent and had removed the empty, make-shift drip. The medic now sat in front of the couch, drinking his own cube of Energon while observing the younglings in front of him. Sideswipe had slid over to Sunstreaker's side and draped some of the thermal blanket over his yellow frame. With part of the blanket gone, Ratchet noticed that one of the Sideswipe's stabilizers was bent in an odd position and that he looked slightly uncomfortable when he moved. Now that the medic thought about it, the red youngling had only ever slid to move.

"Hey, Sideswipe," Ratchet said in concern, placing his half-empty cube on the table. "Are your stabilizers alright?"

Sideswipe looked down at his stabilizers, then to Ratchet, and nodded slowly.

"Are you sure? It looks twisted to me." Ratchet saw the youngling fidget. "I can fix your stabilizer, if you want. You can trust me to do that."

Sideswipe nodded again. "Yes, please."

Ratchet smiled and readjusted Sideswipe for easier access to the limb. It was quick work, a few disconnected wires and a bit of plating bent inwards were easy to fix, but the repairs took long enough for Sideswipe to start nodding off.

"Guess it's time for bed," Ratchet sighed.

He hefted the twins into his arms and carried them to his guest room. It was just as simple as the living room; a single white berth, a berth-side table, some more Praxian crystals growing in the corner, and a small desk with a lamp on top of it. Ratchet moved over to the berth and placed both younglings under the covers and a mesh-pillow under each helm. Sunstreaker unconsciously snuggled into the surface of the berth, but Sideswipe tiredly on-lined his optics.

"Night-night, Hatchet," Sideswipe mumbled as he curled up to his brother. "Thank you."

"Good-night, Sideswipe," Ratchet replied gently, not even remotely bothered by the incorrect name.

Ratchet pulled the thermal blankets up to their chins and backed towards the door. He turned off the lights as he left the room, looking over his shoulder to see Sideswipe clinging Sunstreaker to his chassis.

They're too young to be alone, Ratchet thought sadly. Younglings should live with their creators not on the streets. Ratchet shook his head to clear his thoughts but stopped when he felt a small tear roll down his cheek. He wiped it away then continued to his room. Recharge would not come easily.

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