"You shouldn't have but you said it,
It shouldn't have happened but you let it,
Now you're down on the ground screaming medic,"

»«

"She's gone . . ." Ratchet murmured to his fellow team members. "Dana was taken by Soundwave. And I couldn't do anything to stop him."

"Soundwave is a formidable opponent." Optimus Prime tried his best to assure him. "But we now have an inkling of what Megatron intentions are with Dana."

"Instead of just sending foot soldiers, he sent his best Decepticon." Arcee continued. "He wanted her to be brought back alive. For what, though, we could guess all day."

"That hardly makes me feel any better." Ratchet muttered, refusing to make optic contact with any of his friends, spark still feeling torn by Dana's capture. Yet again, he had failed to protect her, and now Megatron could do whatever he pleased, if the warlord hadn't already done away with her. The medic feared for her safety, but a part of him felt like he wasn't worthy enough to bother feeling that way. What was the point if he couldn't be a proper guardian for her?

"Don't worry Ratch, Dana is pretty tough!" Bulkhead tried to comfort him. "Megatron will have a hard time making her do what he wants!"

Ratchet shot the Wrecker a nasty look, knowing Bulkhead meant well but was not in the mood.

"I'm going on a drive." He snapped, turning from his fellow Autobots and transforming into his alternate mode, driving out of the base and not looking back.

As soon as the medic was cleared from the human base he gunned his engine, just wanting to get away from everything for a while. A flurry of emotions and thoughts flooded his processor and seemed to compress his vents, anger chief among those feelings.

Just as his charge had gotten her memories back, and it seemed that their relationship was on the road to recovery, Megatron had taken her away from him again. This time, Ratchet had been present for it, but he still couldn't save her. He felt worthless, played, and hopeless.

Now he was more uncertain than ever of Dana's survival. Megatron may have initially wanted her alive, but when he tired of her . . . The warlord had already demonstrated he had no qualms of hurting her.

Ratchet brewed in his thoughts while he drove, speeding away from the human base, and civilization in general. After about thirty minutes of pure driving he dove off the road and into the open desert, feeling the various rocks and plants rip at his tires. He kept going, eventually coming to a canyon ledge and rolling to a stop, settling on his axles.

"Why am I like this?" He murmured to no one in particular. "A medic is supposed to help those in need . . . And I can't even do that."

He vented loudly, gazing across the desert and the sparse wildlife that populated it, feeling the warm sand beneath his aching tires start cooling as he shaded it from the blazing desert sun. It brought him back to the time Dana had decided to suntan on his roof . . . And within ten minutes of exposing her skin to the harsh rays she was already red and burnt, and the next day, having spent twenty minutes out in total, she was so burned even long-sleeved clothes hurt to wear.

The medic laughed softly. It was funny to remember her complaining, despite the five melanoma patches that had given her a brief scare. But they had been caught early and quickly, and she had recovered just fine. The incident had stopped her from improvised sunbathing, and she wore several layers of sunscreen ever since.

His processor wandered as he reminisced on happier times. She was one of the few things he would miss on Earth . . . Perhaps, truly, the only thing.

The sunbathing memory led to another, when she had insisted on giving him a "car wash." Though he had initially been wary, and assumed the water would corrode his systems, it was a relief to have all of the accumulated dirt and dust washed away from all his cracks and crevices. The medic was put in a good mood for at least a week because of that. She was sitting in his driver's seat as he dried off in her driveway, none of her family members home that day, listening to the radio as she spoke of her plans for the future.

Not much to his surprise, she wanted to be a traveling nurse, jumping from hospital to hospital in every state, living in a new apartment every few months and making new friends in just as much time. She would visit the national parks and monuments that were scattered across the country, and eventually have enough money to take a month-long trip in Europe, where she would also travel along there.

She had sighed then. "I kinda wish I had taken a foreign language in high school like Spanish or German, but . . . I can't say I regret taking American Sign. That will probably be more useful to me than Italian in the long run . . ."

For another hour Ratchet jumped from memory to memory, having collected an astounding number of them for the approximate year they had been a guardian and charge pair. The past ones were a little more strained and awkward than the more recent ones. He couldn't say they had gotten off to a great start, and it especially annoyed him when she had claimed the driver's seat as "hers" despite his protests, but now he missed her familiar weight - which fluctuated by about three to five pounds every month, but he opted to never tell her. Females, not excluding her, tended to be touchy about such a subject.

As the sky grew darker and the air grew colder he slowly and reluctantly started his way back to the new base, still in a bitter mood, but the alone time and the memories had helped to bring him some piece. When he got back, he vowed to start searching, long and hard, for the Nemesis. He wasn't about to leave Dana at the mercy of Megatron.

Not again.

»«

Megatron opened the doors to his power-down quarters to see that Soundwave had done as instructed and left the human femme on his desk. She had returned to her chair and was facing the outside, looking at the clouds which surrounded the ship and kept it obscured from view. The communications officer had left to get supplies for her human needs, and after a quick look it was clear he had yet to return.

The warlord prepared for another verbal onslaught as he stood there and watched her, waiting. He figured she would want to speak first, after all she had been very eager to spat as much anger and resentment as she could into their previous conversation.

But all he received was silence, even as he opened a data pad to continue monitoring the ship and it's course. He was scheduled for a power-down in five minutes, as there was no current activity going on. Yet if she wanted to talk, he would let her talk.

Dana just started at the clouds as they swiftly passed by, her thoughts somewhere else. She wasn't about to give him the time of day, especially since he essentially ruined her life.

While the girl could partially blame herself, she was still mostly angry with him. And since he clearly wanted to have some kind of conversation with her, she would give the silent treatment. She was certain it would drive him more crazy than if she remained verbally hateful towards him. It was better revenge than nothing.

The warlord so far seemed tolerable of the silence. He instead picked up a data pad and monitored the ship and it's course, as well as updates from Shockwave and the Vehicons which maintained his ship.

Soundwave arrived a few minutes later, the sound of the door breaking the silence as he quietly walked up to the desk, setting out crates of food and water, and also providing soft sheets and a pillow for the femme to sleep in. He had researched and found the bedding necessary that would maximize her comfort while sleeping on the floor. He also provided various garments and sleep clothing, which supposedly lended to comfort. The silent officer was unsure how long the femme would be staying, but he assumed long enough to require regular baths. He would have to see if the Nemesis could be installed with a simple water system.

"Thank you, Soundwave." She finally spoke.

The Decepticon organized everything according to what it was before he left, Megatron receiving an update from him and a list of all the things Soundwave had acquired during his trip out. The warlord was noticeably vexed by Dana's acknowledgment of Soundwave, but not him. He had been the one that captured her and brought her here!

"Why do you refuse to speak to me?" He asked bitterly. "You were quite ready to throw words at me earlier."

She was silent long enough that he though she was ignoring him, but then she spoke again. "I don't feel like it anymore."

His lips pulled back slightly. What did she mean, she didn't feel like it? The human was toying with him again, trying to get him to snap. Well, she was about to get her wish.

"And what if I commanded you to speak to me?" He growled.

Dana didn't even deign him a look, remaining still as she looked out the window. "I still wouldn't do it. You don't command me, nor try to tell me what to do."

It took every ounce of self control to not wack the femme from her chair. She was clearly still damaged, and no longer protected with a glass casing. If he hit her, even gently, he would probably kill her. Humans were incredibly fragile, he realized. His metal digits would destroy her like wet paper.

He grit his denta. It enraged him when someone defied him, much more when they claimed he couldn't tell them what to do. But she was right; if she so wished to ignore his command, he would have to let her get away with it. The warlord did not seek to torture her or break her through physical means. All he wanted was for her to look at him with the fear and awe that every other creature did. Optimus Prime was the only exception besides her. And it drove him mad to have a human, an insect, look at him that way. Fearless.

But she also looked at him with absolute loathing. He had partially destroyed her, and taken away something that was dear to her: her legs. Well, her ability to walk, more like. He suspected that without such mobility her plans for the future would change drastically, and she was refusing to see that happen. She didn't want it to be this way. And she threw all of it back in his face.

Megatron understood why she was angry, but he thought it incredibly foolish. She was the one that had teased and taunted him to the point of him breaking. Surely she had known better; though her ignorance seemed to prove otherwise.

The squeak of her chair brought him back to the present, the human femme gingerly using her arms to wheel herself to the food items. She locked her wheels in place before scooting to the edge of her seat, arms manually moving her legs for her, and then carefully slid out of her seat and to the floor, flinching when her rear hit the desktop. Her back brace didn't move, but it probably hurt a bit when she landed.

The human looked absolutely pathetic.

She didn't seem to care that he was watching her struggle, popping open a water bottle first before she selected a can of fruit, opening that as well with a little effort and "drinking" it empty. He watched for some time before he couldn't take the state of her legs, finding it unnerving that they didn't so much as shift when her body moved.

His attention returned to the datapad, and the Decepticon attempted to distract himself from her struggles, managing to push out his concerns for her well-being. She was just an insect after all, and she was paying the price for her insolence.

Though he anticipated many more verbal battles to come, Megatron made a mental note to not lose his temper and actually swat her. He didn't want her to die, not yet.

First, he had to see her fire again, that spark of life. Then he could get rid of his conscience, and squash her.