Broken Wings

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Chapter 7: Inferno's Guilt

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"Yes, someone got him good," said Ratchet. "Did you see who it was?"

"I don't know. I wasn't watching him. He usually keeps out of trouble. Why don't you ask him?" said Inferno defensively.

"I suppose I could," said Ratchet, trying not to let the tall red mech's attitude bother him.

He went back over to the work bay where the seeker sat wrapped in a thermal blanket, Fireflight at his side with an arm around him. The Aerialbot was the closest thing to an actual friend that Ramjet had among the Autobots. Fireflight had tried the longest and the most patiently of his brothers to get Ramjet flying again, something no one expected. And even though he'd been unsuccessful he'd earned something of a positive stance in the seeker's broken view of the world. "I'll ask him," volunteered Fireflight, holding up a hand to halt Ratchet.

"All right."

Fireflight's hand gently squeezed that of the seeker, and Ramjet looked at him. "Ramjet? Who did this to you?"

"Did what?"

"Who hurt you?"

"No hurt. Love." Ramjet's tone of voice was flat.

"What's that mean?" puzzled Ratchet.

"What do you mean 'no hurt'?" asked Fireflight gently. "Someone hurt you... hurt you here." He hovered a hand over the seeker's battered interfacing array. Though young by Cybertronian standards, the Aerialbots knew both about interfacing and consent.

Ramjet did not cringe away from the hand, but instead looked into Fireflight's saddened face. "No hurt. Love hard. Red love hard."

Inferno cocked his head to the side, and then stepped in closer. "Are you saying that Red Alert 'faced you hard?" He'd been getting much better at interpreting the seeker's babble.

Ramjet nodded. "Good Ramjet. Red good love," he said but sounded unconvinced of his own statements.

Fireflight tried again. "Ramjet, you were raped. Someone forced you to interface with them and damaged you in the process. Are you saying it was Red Alert?"

"Yes Red. Red all love. Good Ramjet good," he said sounding almost fearful this time, possibly afraid that he was in trouble.

"That doesn't make sense," said Inferno. "Red Alert's still in Japan with Optimus Prime. And even if he were here, why would he do this to Ramjet? He cares about this idiot." He'd hurried the white seeker up to the medbay, where Ratchet had confirmed that the Ramjet had been brutally and repeatedly raped. He was covered in dents and scratches. His valve had been penetrated by at least one spike and several other objects. His legs had been pulled apart far enough to crumple the edges of his hip fairings. Transfluid had been found inside his valve, his gestation chamber, his oral cavity, his stomach, and his fuel tank.

"So Ramjet, can you answer my questions with yes or no?" Ratchet asked, stepping forward to where Ramjet could not avoid him.

The seeker shuffled in his blanket, somewhat intimidated by the CMO. He'd shuddered through the whole exam and subsequent repairs. "Yes."

"Good. Did you see Red Alert today?"

"Yes."

The Autobots exchanged glances. This couldn't be right.

"Did Red Alert spike you?"

"Yes."

"Did Red Alert hurt you?"

The seeker paused. "Red love hard."

Fireflight huffed in disgust.

"Was Red Alert alone?" Ratchet continued.

"No"

"Do you know who was with Red Alert?"

"No."

"Did you see who was with Red Alert?"

"Yes."

"There was someone with him?"

"Yes."

"Have you seen this mech before?"

Ramjet paused, and the worry in his optics deepened. "Yes."

"Was it Inferno?"

"No."

"Was it another Autobot?"

"Yes."

"And did the other mech hurt you?"

Ramjet paused again, looked about. "Yes. Love hard."

"And did you try to stop him?"

"No. Good Ramjet good."

"But he was hurting you."

"Ramjet good Red. Ramjet obey."

"This 'Red Alert' told him to take it from the other mech," snapped Inferno, realizing what the seeker was saying. And then he sighed and turned away. "Red's never going to talk to me again. Things have been bad enough already, but after this..." He threw his hands into the air and headed for the exit.

"It wasn't your fault," said Ratchet, following quickly after him. "You can't keep an eye on him a hundred percent of the time."

Inferno suddenly halted and turned to face Ratchet. "But I wasn't even trying. Red told me to look after him, and all I did was make sure he got some recharge and stayed fueled," Inferno moped, angry at himself. "Most of the time he just sat outside the security office door or in the entryway of the Ark and he was fine, so I just ignored him."

"Someone here had it out for him, and I'm sure there are more than a few of us with grudges against the coneheads. And someone with a grudge decided to take advantage of the fact that Red Alert and most of officers are away," theorized Fireflight.

Inferno's slumped position suddenly straightened. "The twins. They were always..."

Ratchet cut him off and scowled. "Inferno, you can't just go about making wild accusations."

"I'm sure it was them!" he said spinning around to face the medic. "Ramjet said there were two. Maybe he's so messed up that he thought Sideswipe was Red Alert."

"Calm down Inferno," said Ratchet sternly. "I know that you're trying to fix this in hopes of salvaging your relationship before it crumbles completely, but you can't just make accusations without any proof."

"Then I'll get proof!" Inferno huffed and turned to leave. "I'll be in the security office!"

"Inferno! Wait!"

The big red mech turned back toward the CMO. "What."

"Take this..." Ratchet moved over to his main work station and took a folded piece of cloth from just below one of the monitors. He opened it, revealing what appeared to be several smudges of yellow paint. "I buffed this off of Ramjet's hip."

With wide optics Inferno looked at the CMO. "Sunstreaker?"

"There are three mechs aboard painted that color. Like I said, don't go around making any wild accusations. And honestly I don't know if anything much can be done even if you can find out who did it. He is a Decepticon prisoner after all."

Inferno put his hand on Ratchet's shoulder. "Ratchet, thanks." He pushed the piece of cloth back into Ratchet's hand. "Keep this safe for me. For us."

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Jazz and Red Alert sat in Skyfire's passenger compartment studying the video surveillance files as they flew back to the United States. Blaster and Inferno, for being unused to the work of tracking the various feeds from the cameras, had done magnificent work in discovering a series of anomalies as well as the two critical pieces of video.

The first was taken by a back-up camera in the entry bay, which showed Red Alert driving out of the Ark just before the time of the incident. Except that he stopped just outside as seen by the flare of brake lights. Two minutes later, the same camera showed him and Ramjet entering the Ark on foot, an excited and over joyous Ramjet pulling Red Alert along by the hand.

The second critical clip was taken by another easily overlooked camera—Hound's "Underground Garden" webcam. Down in hall three among the storage bays, the scout was successfully growing a variety of mushrooms in the twilight there. Anyone with an interest in mycology or with far too much time on their hands could log in and watch the fungus grow. Hound moved the camera every few days to take in a different subject. And this time, behind a ruffled cluster of Cantharellus cibarius mushrooms, Sunstreaker, Red Alert, and Ramjet were seen to walk past, heading in the direction of bay four.

At a stopping point, Jazz leaned back, his hands behind his head. "Open and shut case. Ratchet's got paint smudges taken off of Ramjet, as well as transfluid samples. An inspection of the painting bay revealed that your decals were the most recent ones run off on the printer, and that the shade of white you use was recently fed through the paint nozzles. The security cameras had been tampered with to cover their transit. While none of these facts alone will pin down any particular mech, together they certainly will affirm that the twins did this to Ramjet since we have the corroborative video evidence that they were heading toward bay four with him.

"Yes," said Red Alert, doing his best to hold his anger in, and Jazz could see it.

"Look, I'm sorry this happened," said Jazz, rising and coming around to sit next to Red Alert. "I know you feel responsible for Ramjet, and we all know that this is wrong."

"Inferno was supposed to be looking after him," Red Alert snipped.

Jazz took Red Alert's hand. "Red, don't blame Inferno. He's not the one who did this. The twins did."

"But Inferno was supposed to be keeping an eye on him, to make sure people left him alone. He wasn't even on duty at the time! He was just probably lying around watching T.V.!"

"Red... don't do this," Jazz cautioned. "Inferno's a very easy target right now, and I know you're angry and upset and you want to blame someone."

Red Alert's optics flashed defiantly. "Easy for you to say. Ramjet thinks it was me that did this to him! He trusted me! You don't have to go home and deal with the victim of a crime that thinks you're the one to blame."

"No, I don't. But I do have to go home and help Prowl conduct a criminal investigation into two mechs for something that shouldn't have happened. And these are two mechs valuable to our cause, who do great things for us against the Decepticons. Only this time they made a poor decision as to where to take their fight."

Red Alert sighed. "It makes me sick to think they attacked him like that... a defenseless, befuddled prisoner." He hung his head. "Inferno was right. I should have locked Ramjet in the brig. He wasn't a threat to us, but we were a threat to him." He slouched forward, crying quietly.

Jazz put his arm around him and spoke with an uncharacteristic softness. "Go ahead and cry. Let it out now. You'll need to be strong once we get back to the Ark."

"Thank you Jazz," Red Alert said between sobs.

"And go easy on Inferno, all right? You two are a great couple and I'd hate to see this break you apart."

Red Alert shut off his optics. Jazz was right—every word. "I'll try. I don't know if I can."

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Inferno was there waiting as Skyfire as he touched down and his two passengers disembarked. Jazz's expression was sympathetic while Red Alert's was mixed. "Red?" Inferno called anxiously.

"Where is he? Where's Ramjet?"

Inferno sighed. He really was in trouble for Red Alert to respond that way. "He's in your quarters," he answered defeatedly. "Look, Red, I want to..."

"Not now," Red Alert snapped, cutting him off.

"Red, easy there," Jazz cautioned, catching up and resting a hand once more on Red Alert's shoulder.

"Red, I want to apologize."

"It's a bit late for that, isn't it?" came the angry response as he stomped right past his lover.

"Red. Calm down. We went over this," Jazz said softly. "Don't let your anger take over."

Red Alert sighed., taking Jazz's sage advice. "Look, I just want to see him first... if he'll see me," he said pointedly, doing his best not to panic or overreact.

"All right," Inferno agreed. If he had to play by Red Alert's rules he would.

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In his alt-mode, Red Alert zipped through the halls with Jazz on his tail, the pair far faster in vehicular mode than Inferno. And when he reached his quarters he transformed and opened the door and burst in.

Ramjet, sitting on the couch, suddenly rose, excitedly stumbled over, and threw his arms around Red Alert. "Red! Red Love! Miss Red!" he squealed excitedly. But then he suddenly tensed and drew away. "Red... love..." he said slowly and quietly. A few more steps taken backward confirmed his distrust.

"Ramjet, it's me. The real me."

"He doesn't know that it wasn't really you that hurt him," said Jazz quite soberly, standing in the doorway.

"Ramjet, please come here," Red Alert pleaded gently. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Ramjet trembled, torn between the present and the memory. "Red..."

"Ramjet, come. I'm going to be very gentle with you. I'm not going to hurt you," he said reassuringly.

Slowly, nervously, Ramjet took a step forward, obedient rather than willing.

"Yes Ramjet. Come." Red Alert's voice was full of gentleness and patience, a tone Jazz had never heard him use in all the years they'd worked together.

Ramjet came further forward until he stood before his keeper, his whole frame twitching nervously. But by the time Inferno caught up, the seeker was in Red Alert's arms. "Red? Is he okay?" Inferno asked.

"He is. At least I think he is. He's trembling like a tungsten filament, but I think he's okay." Red Alert led the flyer over to the couch and sat him down, taking the spot beside him and stroking his closest wing comfortingly.

"Miss Red," said Ramjet timidly after a while. "Red gone. Red love hard. Red gone," he confessed sadly.

"Yes. And I'm sorry I ever left you." Red Alert sighed. "He still thinks it was me that... that... " He couldn't bring himself to say the words. "That hurt him."

"But he's not running from you," observed Jazz.

"I hope he'll forget over time." And then he took Ramjet's hand and held it to his chest. "I promise I'll never leave you like that again," he told the seeker.

Jazz looked a little surprised. "Don't go making promises you can't keep, Red."

Red Alert looked over at the black and white mech where he stood at the doorway with Inferno. "If I could trust everyone here, I wouldn't have to make promises like that," he said bitterly.

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"Broken Wings" continues in Chapter 8: Red Alert's Decision

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Author Note: I know this chapter isn't perfect. If anyone has a better way to arrange the train of thought and chain of events, let me know. :)

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Transformers and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of Hasbro and Takara Tomy. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.

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