I debated doing this because, when you think about it, its h*cka weird. But, I decided to write it and see how I felt after the fact. This is a "what if" scenario in which Dana truly is pregnant, and how that plays out for everyone involved. Techno-organics, traditionally, exist as a protoform that was exposed by organic lifeforms and thus took a form to blend in and protect itself (think: Loki of Asgard). So this is a very unconventional take on the subject and definitely has a lot of made-up science stuff behind it. 

Because of some implications and the unconventionality of it all I tried to approach this with grace. It's strange, unusual and really toes the line between what is okay and what is not. If any part of this makes you uncomfortable, just feel free to click away. It's certainly not for everyone. I would implore you to at least read the end (each "scene" is separated by >><< so skip to the last one of those) and tell me what you think about it. I actually really like it, not gonna lie!

AS A SIDE NOTE: Dana was seventeen when "Burned" began, however the timeline suggests that at least six or so months has passed by. I wish to clarify that this means she is mostly likely (and I will say she IS) eighteen when the events of "Gentle" occured. This places her as a legal adult and not a minor. 

Just so ya'll are aware, this is approximately 8,900 words. So not only will there probably be errors that I overlooked, but you've got a bit of reading ahead of you! 

Please enjoy!

>><<

"We received the hCG results and concluded that the first test was indeed correct. You are approximately three months along, and it is vital we monitor the fetus to ensure they are growing properly and were not damaged in the . . . accident."

Dana looked up at the ceiling, grimacing just a little as the cold ultrasound gel was slathered on her lower abdomen. If she squinted hard enough she could see the bump, though if she did not know any better she would have passed it off as bloating. It dawned on her that she had yet to miss a menstrual cycle, which was concerning in and of itself. And morning sickness . . . that she believed to be the flu.

Either I'm an idiot, or this is no normal pregnancy.

"Everything is looking good," the ultrasound technician announced, offering her a small smile. "I am picking up a heartbeat, and developmentally I would say the little one is just over three months. They appear healthy."

June sighed softly with relief, standing next to Dana with kind blue eyes. "How are you feeling?" She asked the young woman.

"I'm paralyzed," Dana replied bluntly. "And though it seems everything is in working order . . . will I be able to go into labor?"

The nurse paused, glancing over at the technician. She was in on understanding that the baby could possibly not be fully human, and if the baby proved to be more Cybertronian than organic . . . labor regardless would kill her. June realized the morbid scapegoat her paralysis provided.

"You will most likely have to have a C-section," she said, "given the labor could become very difficult."

Dana's mouth twisted just a little bit in displeasure, but then she shrugged and did her best to sit up. "I really can't remember if I preferred one over the other, so I guess it doesn't matter to me." She smiled ever so slightly, her eyes sparkling with the joke. The technician wiped off her abdomen before helping June help Dana back into her wheelchair.

"I would recommend visiting at least once a month to check the baby's progress," the technician suggested, "so if there is any problems we may catch it early."

"Will do," Dana nodded in confirmation before allowing June to push her out of the room and back to the correct hospital wing. The young woman was silent as she thought, several different things swirling through her head at once.

How will I tell my parents? Who is the father? Why does this . . . feel like it's not normal?

"I need to speak with Dr. Jefferson for a few minutes," June told her once she was settled on the bed. "Do you need anything - water, food - before I go?"

Dana shook her head, then paused. "Would you happen to know who . . . the father is?" It sounded weird on her tongue.

June's face flickered from surprise, guilt, and then a painfully neutral expression. "No," her lie was obvious, "I believe only you know the truth, but, until you recover some more and your memories return, that may be a mystery to us both."

The nurse wanted to call her out on the lie, but June had already shuffled to the door and left. It made her even more concerned about the possible identity of who was either a significant other . . . or worse, someone who had taken advantage of her.

Her stomach turned. She hoped it was the former, she really did.

>><<

"The baby is fine," June told Ratchet, leaning against his driver's side door as they spoke. "And from what the technician could tell . . . organic. But that leaves me wondering, then, who else could possibly be the other half?"

"It is possible that, if the child is indeed techno-organic, it takes after its carrier the most - in this case, Dana - to smoothen the process," he suggested. "As much as I wish to deny it, Nurse Darby, I truly believe I accidentally sired that child. Dana has no human partner, and she never suffered any sexual trauma. We certainly would have known about that."

June let out a breath. "So tell me, then, how you 'accidentally' fathered a techno-organic baby. Because from my knowledge of procreation, it doesn't really happen by mistake."

Ratchet shifted his wheels a little. "Cybertronians are capable of transferring their CNA in multiple ways," he said. "And there are even more alternatives to the creation of a spark than just, well, procreation. There is, of course, what you organics refer to as copulating, but that had fallen out of style long before the Golden Age. It became less about the pleasures of the frame and more about eternal companionship - though some societies, such as Kaonians and Velocitronians, continued to normalize it. The more, ah, popular way of producing sparklings between two Cybertronians became spark-bonding, in which two pieces, both containing sets of CNA, combined to create one life. Then there was the creation of symbiotes, in which a frame is built and half a shard of spark is placed in it, thereby creating a being that is both independent of its creator and yet unable to live without them. Soundwave's Laserbeak is a perfect example.

"Then there is, of course, forged and constructed cold, but in this context those two ways don't matter. Dana most certainly did not have a forged spark within her nor is the organic body capable of cold constructing a Cybertronian protoform."

June crossed her arms. "You didn't really answer my question," she accused.

Ratchet sighed. "Truthfully, Nurse Darby, I can only guess," he confessed. "The only possible explanation I can think of is that, when she interacted directly with my spark shard, she was going through the process of . . . whatever is before the menstruation cycle."

"Ovulating," June deadpanned.

"Yes. And somehow the shard was able to transfer my CNA coding to her, through touch or radiation I am unsure. It coupled with her half of DNA and created a viable zygote. Her body then did what it was designed to do." He spoke slowly, making sure everything he was saying made at least a little sense. It was bizarre, and certainly was a nearly impossible chance, but it made sense. Their sparks were normally contained within its casing and innermost energon, protecting itself from unwanted interactions. When he allowed it to slip out, and gave it to her . . . it was an unfortunate series of events and coincidences which caused this to occur.

"How are her memories?" he asked, changing the subject just a little bit.

June rubbed her forehead. "She's still trying," she said. "Mostly it's things about before meeting the Autobots, but she can also recall a few bits here and there of the after."

Ratchet allowed silence to fall for a brief moment. "She needs to be told," he said quietly. "She deserves to know that much."

"And she will, once her body heals some more and puts less stress on itself," the nurse insisted. "Giving her too much information too fast could cause her blood pressure to escalate and make the pregnancy even more difficult than it already will be."

"Forgive me, nurse Darby, but the longer we wait the more likely she will be under duress," he argued. "You humans have a gestation period of nine months, but Cybertronians have one for almost three of your Earth years. Her body would never survive, and that is assuming the fetus develops at a slow enough rate that it does not become too big and overwhelm her long before nine months. It may seem a conventional size now, but that could change horrifically fast."

"Give her a week," June negotiated. "One more week and she will have her casts off and placed in braces. Her bones will be mostly healed by then, and it is proven that babies will donate stem cells to their mother if she becomes damaged, so she may even heal a little faster due to that. Then I will reintroduce you - and you can tell her what she needs to know."

If Ratchet was in his root mode, he would have grit his denta. It felt ethically wrong to keep the truth from Dana, but he tried to settle with the notion it would not be that way for long. They were only doing it now to help her adjust - unlike the Decepticons, he was not intentionally deceiving her out of manipulation. No, this was for her own good.

He had to believe that.

>><<

It was a week and a day before Dana and Ratchet had the opportunity to speak with one another. Re-introducing the two of them had triggered a fainting spell in the young woman, though Dr. Jefferson hypothesized it was due to a rapid escalation in blood pressure due to the rush of memories and reliving her trauma. Once Dana had caught up with herself June broke the possible news, unsurprised when she demanded to see her guardian at once. Now, she sat in his driver's side seat, her wheelchair left outside and his door closed for privacy.

They say in silence for a long, long time - so long that Ratchet began to believe she was angry with him. She had every right to be, but he hoped to reason with her that they both were not entirely at fault. They had no idea of knowing what would happen; in fact, it seemed that the situation was impossible to be in.

Her shifting finally indicated that she was ready to speak, glancing up at his rearview mirror.

"I'm trying to come up with some logical explanation, but . . . I have never, ever, been in a situation where I could, uh, be with a guy. Even in a casual context. So . . . the only possible candidate in this whole fiasco is you."

"I'm sorry," he said, not sure what else to say.

She opened her mouth, then stopped, taken by surprise. "What do you mean? What is there to be sorry about?" She asked. "It's not like we planned for this to happen. Or took any known risks. Up until now we didn't think humans and Cybertronians were compatible."

"But it makes sense," the medic sounded like he wanted to kick himself. "You evolved from Unicron, as we hailed from Primus. Our body designs are roughly the same, with a few differences which come with an organic composition. Logically, our genetic codes should also be similar. But I did not think they were capable of aligning so perfectly."

"No one would ever think of that," she pointed out. "It just never occurred to us."

Ratchet took a deep breath. "I just . . . I had one job, and I fragged it up - immensely. I was supposed to take care of you, protect you; and now your body could quite literally destroy itself. There are hundreds of possibilities - not only do you now have human risks, but if the Cybertronian aspects of the fetus causes your body to attempt and reject it -"

"Ratchet," she placed her hand on his steering wheel. "You need to breathe. I'm fine right now - well, fine as I can be. If my body had a problem with the CNA it would have already rejected the baby." The baby. It was so odd, to call it that. But, Ratchet supposed, that was what it was - a baby, a sparkling. A real life.

"Dana," he settled on his tires, "if anything goes wrong - rejection, stress, the baby itself getting sick - you could die. I've already come close to losing you once, and I will not let it happen again. It has been a long time since any new Cybertronian life was conceived, but I will not let it be at the expense of my charge - my partner."

"When you say it like that we sound like a couple," Dana smiled just a little, trying to keep the situation lighthearted. She leaned back in his seat, her gaze on his Autobot symbol. "Ratchet, I really don't plan on dying any time soon. I promise, I will do everything I can to stay healthy and alive. Just because this is unprecedented doesn't mean it is incredibly dangerous."

The seat belt tightened around her ever so slightly, a parody of a hug. "And I will do everything in my power to ensure you are healthy. But . . . if anything happens, if I am forced to chose . . ."

"I know who you will pick," Dana stroked the symbol. "And I cannot say I would ever be angry with you for it."

Silence fell across the cab, the pair sitting quietly for some time before Dana broke the silence once more.

"So, do you think it's going to be a boy, or a girl?" She smiled a little more. "Do you have a preference?"

"Uh . . . no, not really," he stuttered slightly. "I haven't given it much thought."

"I've always wanted a little girl," Dana chuckled softly. "I feel like I get along with them better than I do boys. Do you think she'll take after me, or you, looks-wise?"

Ratchet was astounded that they were really having this conversation, feeling a bit uncomfortable. He had never done this before, acting . . . domestic with someone who could be considered a significant other. It was odd just to think of his charge as a "partner" in the romantic context, but there really was no proper term for this arrangement. He would never dream of rejecting sireship of a sparkling, but to say this was done out of love would be a blatant lie. It was a horrific accident with consequences that had yet to fully transpire.

"I'm . . . sure they would take more after you," he finally said. "Given that the protoform would most likely attempt to prevent rejection by adopting more organic parts."

"Makes sense," Dana shrugged. "Do you think . . . well, do you think they will have the ability to transform? Consume energon?"

"I truly have no idea," he confessed, the topic of energon concerning him. "We will have to wait and see."

If the baby required energon to fully develop, and it still remained inside of Dana, then they could run into serious trouble. Building a gestation chamber could work, but if that proved toxic to the organic DNA . . .

It survived this long for three months. Surely that meant it was capable of subsisting on a strictly organic-based diet. The implications of the baby suffering from some kind of deficiency made his spark twist. All laws of nature said this creation could not exist, and yet here it was - with Dana of all creatures - surviving and perhaps even thriving.

"Y'know, normally couples pick the names together," she said. "Do Cybertronians do that too? Or do they let the child decide once they become older?"

"Normally the progenitors will designate their offspring," Ratchet replied, "but it is also not uncommon for Cybertronians to adopt new names as they grow older and receive upgrades."

She nodded, looking thoughtful. "I suppose we can think about it, together," she smiled. "Humans typically keep their birth names, but it's not unheard of for someone to change it."

He grunted in understanding, noticing June standing at the door of the hospital, her arms crossed and looking at the ambulance with a furrowed brow. She was not angry, but concerned about what was taking so long.

"You should return to the hospital," he suggested. "You need sustenance and rest. After Megatron . . . after your injuries it is paramount you remain relaxed and at ease. Your body has been put under a lot of duress."

She rolled her eyes a little. "Yes, doctor," she teased, her bright green eyes sparkling in his rearview mirror. "I'll see you some other time?"

"Of course," he promised, opening his door. She carefully slid out with help from her guardian and June, sliding into the wheelchair delicately and patting his side.

"See ya, Ratchet."

"Goodbye for now, Dana."

>><<

"Hey mom, it's me, Dana. I'm just calling to let you know I'm safe, and I'm alive. I'm sorry for scaring you earlier. I . . . there's a lot of things going on right now so I might not be able to call you at another time. Just know that I am in the best hands possible, and that I am recovering. I love you, bye."

>><<

Ratchet threw the nearest piece of scrap metal he could grab at a wall. "This is all my fault!"

"Soundwave is a formidable opponent," Optimus reasoned with him. "It is nearly impossible to defeat him in combat."

"And if Megatron sent him instead of some foot soldiers, that means he wants Dana brought to him alive," Arcee stood in front of the medic, her optics shining with determined life. "For what reason, we could guess all day. But the fact of the matter is that her life is worth something."

"That hardly makes me feel any better," Ratchet snapped.

"Don't worry, doc, Dana is tough!" Bulkhead attempted to assure him. "If she can survive what happened on Cybertron, she can survive whatever else Buckethead has in store."

"You all don't understand!" Ratchet snarled angrily, his voice reaching a few octaves higher than normal and startling his team members. "This isn't just about Dana! It isn't just about her safety! There are a hundred things you don't know about, a hundred risks that Megatron is foolishly taking by ripping her from that hospital!"

He took several long, deep vents, his anxiety coursing through his energon lines at a hundred miles per hour. Resting his servo on the edge of a computer module, he placed his face in the other one, trying to regain his composure.

"Ratchet . . ." Optimus spoke carefully, quietly. "What is it you mean?"

It at first seemed that the medic was going to brush off the question, pretend that his little meltdown did not happen. His optics refocused on Optimus, the silence stretching out for a long period of time before he confessed to his crime.

"Dana is carrying," he said, speaking in terms he knew they would understand, "and I am the sire."

Every jaw - even those of Ultra Magnus and Optimus Prime - dropped in absolute shock, Bulkhead's looking like it was about to fall right off of its hinges, Smokescreen with optics so big they appeared ready to drop out of their sockets. Even Arcee was at absolute loss for words, her processor fumbling to make sense of what she just heard, wondering if Ratchet was suffering from temporary insanity.

"Dana is what? Ratchet is the who?" Miko asked in the awkward, painful silence.

"You," Ultra Magnus said slowly, as if he could not believe it. "And the native?"

"It's complicated, it's confusing, and it took a long time for me to believe it myself - but all of the evidence is there." Ratchet took a shaky breath. "I fear that her body is in an extremely delicate state, not just because of her condition, but because of her injuries, and the type of carrying this is. If the sparkling takes more after its Cybertronian genetics than its human, it could very well kill her - and Megatron lacks the means to keep her alive."

Optimus looked at his medic, completely blindsided by the revelation. He knew the pair were close, as any guardian and charge should be, but for Ratchet to be this reckless . . . it was unheard of. The Prime tried to give his friend the benefit of the doubt, but it was difficult to think of how this was done unintentionally. Surely there was a way.

"What do you suggest, old friend?" Optimus Prime asked him.

Ratchet's frame flinched ever so slightly. He could hear the disapproval in Optimus' voice, see the judgement on the faces of his comrades - even the kids looked horrified. But this was his price.

"I don't know. Call Megatron? Explaining the situation would only put her life in more risk. If he learns that he contains the first ever offspring to be conceived after Cybertron went dark, after the Allspark was sent off-world . . ."

"I will not allow Dana nor her sparkling to become a political pawn," Optimus touched his shoulder. It softened his spark, at least, to see that this truly was causing Ratchet distress. He genuinely cared for not only his charge, but his progeny as well. "We will see what we can do with the limited amount of options we have. Should Megatron not first contact us about a decline in her health, we will reach out to him as soon as possible."

"Thank you, Optimus," Ratchet whispered, his vocalizers glitching. "Thank you."

>><<

Dana shrank back from Megatron when he approached the desk, the warlord pausing and raising an optic ridge at her balk. Never before had he seen her cower before him, but it left a satisfied feeling in his chest. Finally, the organic femme was seeing him for who he truly was: a powerful mech that could not be trifled with.

She was understandably livid when brought onto the warship, and her spunky attitude left him feeling familiarly angry - a feeling he both despised and relished. Her legs were useless, Dana's movement aided by the wheeled chair Soundwave had delivered her in, but most of the time she remained on the ground. Her feet were normally propped up, which made him wonder if it was normal human behavior, or her behavior, or if she was ill. Her movements, too, were slow, and he noticed her intense avoidance of certain foods, while she devoured others. Of the few times she had demanded anything, she mostly requested vitamins and specific fruits and vegetables.

Otherwise, she was silent. They rarely spoke, and once they did it usually climaxed into an argument that left her retreating to her small habitat on his desktop. There was a timidness about her that implied she no longer wanted to get hurt; and the only reason he deduced its abnormality was because she never seemed to take her own personal safety into account. She took risks, lived for the thrill, and yet now she rarely caused mischief.

Had he truly broken her that much?

Despite the satisfaction which coursed through him it felt . . . misplaced. Wrong. This was not the human femme which had so absurdly caught his interest. Where he had expected her to survive and bounce back with twice the willpower she had demonstrated before, she instead became melancholy, a wounded animal incapable of independence with the loss of her ability to walk. For the briefest of thoughts he considered manipulating her to become dependent on him, and the Decepticons in general, but such an idea was unappealing. He admired this human for her autonomy, not her weak psyche.

Once Dana determined that Megatron was not going to speak, or touch her, she relaxed ever so slightly and returned to removing the braces from her arms and legs. They were there for support, but in her current situation she needed all available ranges of motion - and besides, her arms and even her legs appeared to be in great shape. She had always considered herself a fast healer; even her bones mended themselves at an impressive rate.

Once she determined that her arms were not about to snap, she carefully manipulated her legs and dragged herself to the crate of food, rummaging around. She had to take extra care to ensure she was taking the vitamins at the correct time, and used common sense to decide what kind of foods to eat. She knew for a fact fish such as tuna was off the table; the high concentrations of mercury, though harmless for an adult, were detrimental to the health of a fetus. She tried to keep everything balanced, though it was proving difficult in the Decepticon's care. And she decided that her condition was only on a need-to-know basis, and Megatron certainly did not need to know.

He had been acting odd as of late. Instead of taunting her mercilessly, he observed, his red optics focused in what seemed to be a permanently confused expression. Occasionally he would become angry, but just as soon as his outburst would frighten her - for fear of the child's safety - he would reign it back in or storm out to take out his rage on a poor unsuspecting Vehicon. He dared to touch her only once, and she had snapped at him for it. Now, they seemed to be on unspeaking terms.

"You are quiet," he said finally. "Far too quiet for my taste. Have nothing to say to me, after all I have done?"

"As if I need to give you another reason to cripple me further," she snapped, taking out a vitamin and dried mango slices, as well as a protein bar and bottle of water. "Look at me, Megatron. I'll be lucky if I can even wiggle my toes in the future! Is this what you wanted? To snap my spine in half and gloat over your accomplishment for breaking a human?"

Finally, a reaction. One that made him bristle, but a reaction nonetheless. "I expected you to perish on Cybertron. Your ability to survive has impressed me, and I am intrigued by your plasticity. And yet where you once openly opposed me you now shrink back in terror."

"Because I'm done," she turned her back to him. "You crossed the line, changed the rules when you not only used us as bargaining chips, but then almost killed me. You're a monster, and for some reason I never saw it."

"You should have been well aware of the consequences of inserting yourself into this war, choosing the Autobot cause over allying yourself with the Decepticons." He curled his servo into a fist. "You were a combatant the moment you interacted with one of them."

"That's not how warfare works!" Dana was almost screaming. "I was - am - a civilian! I have no military training, I can't even hold a gun properly, and I have never, ever seen combat. You are just trying to twist and justify your actions!"

"And you are attempting to justify being a victim as if you were unaware of the risks!" Megatron snarled, slamming his fist on the table. Dana flinched, hard, the blood draining from her face. She looked close to passing out, as if terrified that he was going to crush her.

This is not her. The human femme never flinched.

Megatron drew his fist back, satisfied that it had shut her up but perplexed by her actions. This was no case of mistaken identity, as Dana had proven to be knowledgeable of the Autobot and Decepticon causes. Something else was wrong.

She is broken. And must be fixed.

Dana received what she believed to be a hard glare before Megatron wordlessly left her, contacting Shockwave to inform the scientist that he was making his way to the lab. There was something they needed to discuss. As the room fell into silence Dana relaxed, letting loose a deep breath and resting her head in one of her hands.

"The evil warlord has issues," she muttered. "Why am I not surprised?"

>><<

"Dana Frederickson?"

She almost did not hear her name, staring at the operating theatre which made up the good portion of a lab table. Shockwave, Knock Out, Soundwave, and Megatron were all present, the only expressive one of the group holding a smug look on his bright white face. Megatron had only briefly mentioned they were visiting Shockwave's laboratory; he did not say anything about a surgical procedure.

"Yes . . ." she said slowly. "What is all of this?"

"You have not been informed?" Dr. Klindeston asked, bewildered.

"No," She said bitterly. "I was only told that I was being brought here - I don't know for what purpose."

Dr. Klindeston swallowed nervously, glancing up at the silver titan that had accompanied her. He seemed the cruelest of the bunch, with his sharp features and permanently angry expression. How someone like her got caught up in giant, metal robots baffled him.

"I will be performing a surgical procedure that could potentially give you the ability to walk again," he said, noting her legs in the chair. They had yet to atrophy, and her broken and bruised body suggested that the injuries were fresh. Well, at least these things knew how to act quickly. "By implanting a device that will supposedly bridge the gap between your break; which your file said is between lumbars four and five?"

"Yes . . ." Dana reached out a hand. "Give me the file," she said, ignoring the doctor's confused look as he handed it to her. It looked exactly like the one Dr. Jefferson had made - Soundwave must have slunk into the database and pulled what he needed. To her surprise, there was no mention of her condition; but she probably should not have been too shocked. Having any mention of a human-alien hybrid outside of the hospital would cause mass hysteria amongst the classified persons.

She skimmed it over twice just to make sure. "I can't go through with this surgery." The nurse spoke plainly.

Dr. Klindeston paled considerably. "Wh-why not? I-It's a relatively clean procedure, and I can assure you I'm qualified -"

"You are in no place to refuse, Dana," the machine above her hissed, Klindeston feeling ice crawl up his spine. "Too much time and resources have gone into preparing for this procedure. It will happen, whether you desire to be miserable for all time or not."

"I can't." She snapped back. "My physical condition puts me at a huge risk of dying. And if I know anything about you, that's the last thing you want."

"Are you a hemophiliac?" Dr. Klindeston looked over her file with a frown. "Suffer from an autoimmune disorder? I don't recall ever reading anything -"

"Pregnant." She replied dryly. It was obvious that Klindeston would follow Megatron's orders regardless of what she wanted; the doctor was intimidated and would do as told despite his personal morals. They probably threatened him with death or torture if he did not do what they demanded.

Dana had to say something now, or else she would be put under and the procedure done without knowledge of the risks. Megatron may not truly care about her dying - he would just murder Klindeston and call it even - but she did not want it to happen for the sake of not just herself, but Ratchet. He never really gave any indication that he loved their sparkling . . . however Dana believed that he at least cared.

"You lie," Megatron was the first to recover from the shock, the Cybertronians having taken a moment to translate and understand.

"Test me," she challenged. "Have me pee on a stick, do an ultrasound, I don't care. But I'm telling the truth."

"My liege, if I may," Knock Out spoke up nervously, "I could scan the organic femme to see if she's lying. Though the compatibility is questionable, I could at the very least obtain a biosignature. Should she sport two unique ones I can confirm such a claim."

Megatron eyed him for a brief moment, a silent warning. "Proceed." He rumbled.

Knock Out approached slowly, well aware that his master was particularly sensitive about this human, activating his scanner and waiting for her to adjust before running it over her body. He did a full-scan, mostly because she was so small, frowning as the results came in. "Hm . . . that is odd."

"What is it?" Megatron demanded.

"Well, I could be mistaken, but, not only am I picking up two signatures, one of them is blatantly Cybertronian in origin. And the femme herself even has bits and pieces of protoform growth; it appears to be in locations where her body has suffered damage.

What? This is news. Dana looked surprised.

"How is that possible?" Shockwave questioned, Knock Out moving his arm so that the scientist could look at the results. "A human cannot possibly be capable of carrying a Cybertronian progeny."

"We're evolved from Unicron," Dana pointed out, noticing Klindeston was absolutely lost. "So it makes sense that some similarities exist."

Megatron's servo curled into a fist. "And who sired this offspring?" He hissed, the white centers of his optics glowing a little more brightly.

"Not really any of your business," Dana shot back.

The leader of the Decepticons was no fool. "The medic," Megatron snarled.

"Can't believe that old rustbucket has still got it," Knock Out mused.

"All you need to know," Dana continued as if he hadn't guessed correctly, "is that a surgery could put enough stress on my body to cause complications. I've already got my injuries and the . . . unorthodox state of the pregnancy to deal with."

It all made sense, now, Megatron recalled. Ratchet had been incredibly distressed after he was retrieved, Dana's name leaving his vocalizers almost a hundred times, along with twice as many questions as to the state of her health. The warlord had brushed it off as the natural worry of a guardian and medical doctor. Never in a thousand years would he have thought the mech had sired a sparkling with a human.

"There is still the barrier of sexual reproduction," Shockwave argued, still stuck on the fact that they now possessed a hybrid, "even the smallest of Cybertronians are too large to be compatible with a human."

"We did not do the . . . the diddly-doo," Dana brushed off the confused looks of the Decepticons and continued, "Long story short, his spark had somehow managed to code with my DNA to create a zygote, which then naturally did what all zygotes do. It grew and became a baby. It was like spark-bonding, only by complete accident and without our knowledge."

"That would explain the Cybertronian and organic parts my scanner has picked up," Knock Out agreed. "For the sparkling, at least - does not explain why you possess protoform matter of your own."

Dana paused, thinking. "When a mother is injured, the fetus inside the womb can donate stem cells to help with the healing process. Because half of the genetic code is Cybertronian, that could be why it shows up as such."

"Fascinating," Shockwave rumbled. "And yet your body shows no signs of irritation or allergenic behavior. This would be an interesting case for study."

"I am a person, not a science experiment!" Dana snarled, her arms subconsciously wrapping around her middle.

"Well, this certainly changes things," Knock Out looked toward Megatron, who had been silent as he listened, and fumed about the accursed medic. "My liege, as the most qualified medical doctor, I would advise against doing this procedure - at least for the time being. She is correct in saying that her body is in a delicate state, and the odds of her rejecting the addition are higher with her body's increased sensitivity to change."

"I do believe you have simply repeated everything she said," Megatron growled at him, fixating his angry gaze on the smaller Decepticon. "Knock Out, I want you to do a thorough investigation on the human gestation period and what must be done. Combine it with your knowledge - if you have any - of Cybertronian carrying capacities to create an adequate environment for our resident . . . carrier. Oblige her with any and all demands, that are within reason of course. Shockwave," the scientist snapped his attention to his master, "prepare a gestation chamber, as it may be required."

"I am not having a baby on this ship!" Dana yelled, her voice shrill.

"You should be honored," Knock Out drawled. "This is the first new life to be spawned since Cybertron went dark - which is another mystery in and of itself."

"It is logical to assume that, because humans do not require the Allspark to create new life, a Cybertronian and human crossing could circumnavigate such an obstacle." Shockwave suggested.

Megatron acknowledged Shockwave's postulate with the barest of nods, gazing at Dana with an intense glare. "You will do well to be thankful, as we possess the technology to keep you alive. Your Autobots may have human resources, but we possess what your Cybertronian half requires to survive. Soundwave," he ignored her further protests, "return her to my quarters, and monitor her closely. There is a matter I must attend to."

"Um . . . what about me?" Klindeston squeaked.

Megatron briefly considered squashing him, thoroughly annoyed by his cowardice. "Knock Out, return him to where you found him." He said dismissively, then exited the lab.

Ratchet whirled from his pacing as the door to his cell opened, feeling his systems freeze ever so slightly as Megatron stalked in, looking livid. He had refrained from saying anything about Dana for fear of the tyrant using her against the Autobots, but now it appeared that the Decepticon knew.

"Hello, Ratchet," Megatron said spitefully. "You and I are in need of a discussion about boundaries."

>><<

Optimus feared the worst when the Decepticons had been quiet for almost two entire weeks. First was the kidnapping of Ratchet, and a doctor somewhere in New York was currently in a psychiatric hospital ranting to Agent Fowler about being kidnapped by "giant, alien robots" to do surgery on a female who was pregnant. The Prime imagined that it was all a part of some twisted scheme that Megatron had developed, though its purpose was uncertain. He suspected it had something to do with the techno-organic Dana was currently carrying, given that both parents of the child were now aboard the Nemesis.

Dana was sick.

Her body was throwing up any and all food she consumed, leaving her shaking and sweating amongst the sheets that were provided for her to rest in. She had a slight temperature of 99.8 degrees Fahrenheit, but otherwise she seemed alright. Her body was weakening due to lack of nutrients, and Ratchet worked tirelessly to figure out what was wrong with her. Despite Megatron's "discussion" - which involved plenty of raised voices and fists - he did not shy away from the task of protecting his charge.

"Preliminary scans show no biological cause of her sickness," Knock Out reported from the monitor. He was working double-time to ensure the femme did not die, if only so his master did not kill him. "It is possible her body has begun the process of rejection."

"No," Dana rasped, her throat sore from abuse. "I'm not . . . I can't. I feel fine."

Ratchet did a slightly deeper scan, grimacing as Dana winced, knowing it was probably a little painful for her. As he waited for the data to appear he looked at her, her arms curled around the small but now noticeable bump on her lower abdomen. It made his spark twist, knowing he was the one that had done this to her.

The scanner beeped to indicate it was ready, the medic looking at the results with a furrowed brow.

"The sparkling is suffering from a deficiency," he said. "I'm getting . . . low energon readings."

"I thought the stuff was toxic to organics," Knock Out walked over, peering at the results for himself. "Though I suppose it should come as know surprise that a hybrid would require both."

"From what I understand, that is the case," Ratchet confirmed, gritting his denta. "But I refuse to poison her."

"Is that truly the case?" Shockwave spoke up, Ratchet nearly jumping out of his armor. It was as if the scientist had materialized out of the floor, but Ratchet could have just been so focused that he did not hear him come in. "From the data files I have overlooked, it appears that only weaponized energon seems to negatively affect the natives. It would most illogical if the creations of Unicron were intolerant of his lifeblood, or that of his antithesis."

"I am not turning Dana into an experiment!" Ratchet snapped. "There must be something -"

"Ratchet."

Her weak voice stopped him mid-rant, the nurse shakily drinking a little bit of water, just enough to soothe the ache in her throat.

"If the energon . . . is deposited into the umbilical cord, it could minimize any damages to me," she suggested.

"Until the sparkling excretes it as waste," Ratchet argued. "Then it could be in a much more concentrated, poisonous form. The radiation could give you cancer, poisoning, if you're lucky enough to not die from it."

"I want to give it a try."

"Absolutely not!" Knock Out flinched as the notoriously crass medic shouted. "Dana, the risks are far too great!"

"I think the ultimate decision is mine to make," she disputed. "Considering I am the one carrying the sparkling."

"And I am not only your guardian, but medical doctor," Ratchet clenched his fist, frustrated. "Dana, you have seen the effects energon has on the human body firsthand. Rafael, Agent Fowler, they suffered because of exposure."

She crossed her arms. "If you're not going to give me a choice, you're just as bad as Megatron."

The medic stopped, appalled that she would play such a card. Knock Out snickered behind a servo while Shockwave watched with detached interest, observing the exchange with scientific inquiry. He noted that the organic's maternal instincts were trumping any sort of logical decision-making she may otherwise possess.

Ratchet battled with himself for a long, long time before he relented. "Fine." He said, voice clipped. "Fine. We will start small. No more than a sip. Knock Out, if you could please, fetch a cube . . ."

"Megatron will have our heads if this doesn't work," the medic stopped his snickering, doing as told. When he returned Ratchet had helped Dana sit up, the Autobot working slowly and even running a blunt digit down her back to soothe her gently. He took a reading of her temperature and found that it was still a bit high, but not increasing. If even the slightest bit of energon caused an escalation, he was calling off the test.

Dana gave him a cup from her pile of human items the Decepticons had supplied, the thing so small he was afraid he would crush it. But he managed to crack open the cube and scoop out a little bit of the liquid lifeblood, setting it down away from her so she did not get it on her hands. She wiped it with a towel, sniffing it and crinkling her nose.

"It's . . . basic." She observed. "Smells almost like bleach."

"Do humans drink that?" Knock Out asked.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Ratchet asked. "Your body does not equip the means to process it -"

Dana closed her eyes, taking a breath before allowing it to touch her tongue.

The buzz it left after washing through her mouth was odd, but it faded quickly. She found that it was . . . odd tasting, and it did not taste at all how it smelled. Her stomach twisted briefly then settled, and she realized just how hungry she was.

"Dana!" Ratchet yowled as she finished the cup. "I said a sip!"

"I feel fine," she replied dismissively, wiping a little energon from her lips. "If anything, I feel better."

Her guardian looked unconvinced, but allowed it to slide for the time being. She looked better, energized, and he wondered if that was because of the energon working or throwing her body into overdrive. As the minutes passed she remained unaltered, and after a full hour the medic relented and allowed her another cup. Within four hours, the sparkling's energon readings had increased and stabilized, and Dana had returned to eating human-grade foods. It was one more thing they had to watch, but Ratchet was more than willing if it kept her healthy.

Shockwave allowed him to also confirm the emergency gestation chamber was properly built and functional, the Autobot grudgingly impressed by the scientist's ingenuity. It was not much different than that of the Predacon clones', save for the removal of a few unnecessary ingredients which a Predacon needed, and the typical sparkling did not. Shockwave also set out to build a synthetic umbilical cord, aware that the human half would require sustenance this way.

Ratchet thought Megatron was doing an awful lot of work to care for one human, but in all likelihood it was also because of the potential sparkling. They would be a political piece; Megatron would either demonize the poor babe or make himself out to be the hero for rescuing them from certain death inside of their organic mother.

His fears were alleviated when Megatron perished.

>><<

Almost a month and a half later the medic was told to hand over his half of the synthetic energon formula, the Decepticons well aware that they required it but having been in the process of building the Omega Lock anew they did not need it at the moment. Dana had since grown a sizeable bump, one that concerned even her, but she was otherwise healthy and had no noticeable effects from the energon consumption. Shockingly she was also gaining feeling back in her legs - now able to wiggle her toes and even bend her foot if she focused - and the Autobot and Decepticon medics hypothesized that the protoform tissue was re-growing and constructing the break in her spinal cord.

Megatron would come to visit often, and only once did Ratchet try to get in his way. The medic was roughly pushed aside, and the warlord requested information on her status. Most visits ended as such, occasionally sprinkled in with strained conversation between the two of them. Clearly, in the presence of his inferiors, Megatron did not want to reveal much. But he did inquire her health out of concern, and had rare visits where only Ratchet was in the medical bay with her. It was only then he asked for the doctor to show scans of the sparkling and watch it move with fascination. If Dana was noticeably struggling to move he would also assist, giving her a digit to grab onto, slowly re-teaching her to not flinch at his touch.

It was when Ratchet learned of the Omega Lock that he knew he had to put a stop to the Decepticons. With the only human he cared about aboard his ship Megatron would not hesitate to cyberform Earth once more. Thus, Ratchet snuck out and contacted the Autobots. He did not care if he was punished, only that Earth, Dana's home, was safe.

After a short, but brutal battle, Megatron was destroyed. Dana was kept aboard the Nemesis for the time being, and when Unicron arose she was thoroughly sealed in the medical bay with Ultra Magnus. According to Ratchet, Megatron only queried as to her health once before he took to the stars, never to be seen again.

Until almost two Earth decades later.

>><<

Megatron wandered aimlessly in space for a long, long time before he finally felt lonely, and melancholy. Cybertron was surely beginning to grow again, and Optimus Prime wisely governing the planet towards peace. Though he would call it home, the former Decepticon did not feel as if he belonged there. He had no friends on Cybertron, none that were of good company, anyway.

But Earth . . .

He flew there, knowing there was only one who would at the very least make him worth something. Megatron had no idea where she was now, or if she even remained connected to the Autobots, but he decided it was a better place to go than nowhere at all.

His greeting on the planet was unexpected.

Ratchet stepped through the Groundbridge with a cold expression and allowed the portal to close behind him, the titans standing on what was left of Darkmount in the relocated Jasper, Nevada. There was an extended period of silence as Megatron attempted to read him, finding the space around his pedes to be devoid of life.

"I am sure you know why I am here," Megatron spoke slowly, calmly. "I only wish to see her, if she desires to also see me."

"Dana is gone, Megatron," the words cut through him like the Star Saber. "She . . . she didn't make it."

Ratchet almost saw the warlord reel in shock, his faceplates contorting into that of a confused, then concerned expression.

"What happened?"

The medic glared, feeling his digits curl into fists. The pain of a thousand lifetimes laced his voice. "Her body carried the sparkling to her maximum term, but the sparkling herself was not fully developed. Her Cybertronian half . . . reacted violently to labor."

It was getting harder and harder for Ratchet to speak of it. Though it had been almost two decades, he clearly had repressed the emotional pain since the moment he had felt it.

"To put it in as few words as possible: the sparkling tore her apart. She died on the table from blood loss." His optics did not meet that of the tyrant's, waiting for the accusation, the rage, of the medic neglecting his human charge, his one responsibility as the war came to a close.

Megatron stared at him for a long time. "I . . . I am sorry for your loss."

The words sounded pathetic on his glossa and yet Ratchet could most certainly feel the weight, the medic looking back up at him in shock. Megatron only returned his look with one of genuine grief, wondering if he had been in her last thoughts - and why he had been so selfish as to not be there for her.

"The sparkling . . . did it survive?" He asked.

Ratchet took a long breath. "Yes." He said. "I was able to place her in the gestation chamber and allow her to grow fully."

"Her? So it is a femme?"

"Yes." Ratchet was still off-put by not only his concern, but his curiosity. "Her name is Kyra. Dana chose it."

Dana chose it. It seemed incredibly important for Ratchet to say that, but Megatron could understand why. Though the Autobot and his charge may not have been involved romantically, they were certainly close - and the product of such a relationship was the last he had of her.

"I wish to seek asylum here on Earth," he said matter-of-factly. "Be it with you, or on my own, with a mine that I could live off of in peace. I have no place on Cybertron, and I have found that the vastness of space does not suit me either. It is your decision, Autobot, but I implore you to consider allowing me to remain at your base. If not just for safety reasons, but because I have nowhere else to go."

Another silence ensued, Ratchet thinking about his offer. Just when Megatron believed he would say no, the medic sighed.

"Dana would grant you asylum, so I believe I should do the same," he looked up at Megatorn. "But you must abide by my rules, and that of the human government. Should you violate them, I will have no choice but to ban you from this planet for the sake of its people."

"Understood." Megatron nodded in confirmation.

Ratchet called Kyra for a Groundbridge, a surprisingly chirpy voice answering before the portal was opened.

Megatron was unsure what he expected to see when he stepped through, but it was not what he saw. A human stood on the catwalk in front of the computers, her bright orange hair obscuring a part of her face. When she turned to look at them her startling green eyes shone with a mischievous glint. At first glance, she could have been mistaken for her mother, save for the hair, but the way she moved and even the subtle, almost boxy curves of her body were reminiscent of her Cybertronian half. She tilted her head to regard Megatron with chillingly intelligent eyes, and as he approached he noticed what appeared to be seams along her skin, though most of it was covered by a pair of black form-fitting pants and a grey shirt that extended down her elbows.

"So, this is Megatron?" She said, feigning disinterest. "I thought he'd be bigger."

She sounded like Dana, if Dana possessed the Iaconian accent.

"Kyra, this is Megatron. Megatron, Kyra." Ratchet gave the mech a warning look.

Megatron inclined his head, unsure if it was appropriate to speak to her about her human mother. Ratchet was certainly still recovering, and the gladiator wondered how he could tolerate seeing reminiscences of his charge every day. But perhaps that eased the pain.

Kyra leaned against the railing. "You knew my carrier, eh?" She smiled just a bit. "I think if you and her got along, we'll do just fine."

"I would not necessarily classify it as getting along," Megatron hesitated. "But, seeing as you clearly are not intimidated by me, I believe we are getting a good start."

Her lip quirked up even more. "I know you won't hurt me," she declared. "No only will I be able to kick your aft, but I've got back-up. So just watch yourself, ten-ton."

Megatron had to stop himself from grinning like an utter fool. Dana may have perished, but her essence clearly lived on. He once again found her fire.