One Human, One Spark 67

It was almost like . . . two different parts of his processor reconnecting. Like a phone with slow internet connection, the memories caught up with him, uploading in a blur. Refreshing and the dots connecting, the information dump was almost enough to make his processor crash.

"Wheeljack? Open your optics. I know you're online. Vitals are steady, and as far as I know, you're fixed."

An uneven vent staggered from his systems. "I don't want to open my optics," he finally said softly. His spark pulsed in pain, a tidal wave of memories consuming his processor as he sought to come to grips at what the Decepticons had done to him. What he'd been foolish enough to believe.

"Fine, then keep them shut." He heard the doctor moving about above him. "Then at least be helpful enough to answer some questions for me. My scanners aren't picking up any more abnormalities, but I want you to run a self-diagnostic for me and check for anything I might have missed. I need to know if there's any inconsistencies or—"

"Shut up, Doc. I'm fine. I . . . I'm fixed."

Another harsh vent stuttered from his systems. He reached up his servos over his face, trying to hold back the grief. He felt it deep within, bubbling up to the surface until it was just beneath the skin. His jaw clenched. "Where's Miko? She said she'd be here."

"She's currently in her last final, and she'll be here within the hour."

An audible whine echoed from his systems. He had to tackle the worst things first. It was like he could feel his hollow optics cutting into him and overshadowing his every move. A wracking tremble shivered across his plating. The memory was so real. It was so real, like he could feel the impacts of his fist splintering his plating and the hot spray of energon on his servos again, and the grisly image of his brother-in-arms laid to waste beneath him—

Another hitch ripped through his system. He felt a rap on his helm. "Wheeljack." Ratchet's voice was gentler now, respecting what the Wrecker was processing. "Wheeljack, I need a reaction from you. You have to wake up and face it sometime."

"Frag off, Doc!" Violently, Wheeljack threw Ratchet's arm away, and he abruptly sat up and turned away from the medic, shaking so hard he couldn't see straight. He pressed his palms to his optics again, feeling sick on the inside.

I'm a monster.

Shivering so hard his plating rattled, Wheeljack summoned up what was left of his courage to look up and find Twin Twist. The blue and white mech gave a flimsy, but real smile.

"Hey. How you feeling, Jackie? Is the ol' Jack Attack back?" His lips pulled again, lopsided. "C'mon, Blinky. Say something."

A rough sob clotted in his throat. Wheeljack lurched up and bolted across the base to the mech, and he threw his arms around him, practically crushing the Wrecker to his chassis.

His throat was filled with an odd assortment of tears, bile, and guilt. "I'm sorry," he rasped out, trembling violently. "I'm . . . I'm sorry . . ."

He felt a hand patting his back. "Quit that. It's fine."

"No it's not!" he snapped roughly, fingers digging into him. For a second, he didn't realize he had shed lubricant on him, but he lifted his helm and wiped it on his shoulder. He glared at Twin Twist, angry and horrified that he would even suggest it. "That is NOT okay, Twist! Don't you ever say that!"

The brief smile that had tried to paint his face faded. His optics dimmed. "All right," he muttered gruffly. "So it's not okay. But I don't need you giving yourself Pit over it either, all right?"

"Twist—"

"Wheeljack, shut up," Twin Twist interrupted, shifting his sitting position on the ground. "I know exactly what you're going to do, and I don't want you to hold any of this over your helm. It wasn't your fault."

"Twist, I KILLED Topspin! Mercilessly—"

"I know what you did," Twin Twist cut in harshly, a violent tremble making him wince away. His vocalizer filled with static before it cleared. "What I'm saying is, you can't let the guilt eat you up because the 'Cons did a number on you. I—"

"Stop it! You can't just forgive me for—"

"Wheeljack, shut the frag up," Twin Twist snapped. He glared. "I'm a dying mech, let me say my piece."

They caught optics, and for a second, Wheeljack couldn't speak past the pressure in his throat. "You're not dying," he whispered futilely.

"Yeah, I am," he replied. Twin Twist gave a soft sigh, relaxing a little as he embraced the thought. "It'll be good. I can't wait to see Spin again, and now that I know you're back to normal and you can take care of that Wrecker of a human, it'll all be good again."

Wheeljack's spark rate took off. He shook his head. "C'mon, Twist, don't talk like that. There's—I'll bond with you, Twist. I'll do it. It'll give you something to hold on for."

He actually got Twin Twist to laugh. The blue and white Wrecker leaned against the wall in exhaustion, shaking his head. "Please, if you frag up your spark with splintering relationships anymore than you have, you'll break yourself as well." When Wheeljack just stared, Twin Twist's features softened in sympathy. "Besides. My spark's been shutting down for a while now. I haven't been able to even transform the past couple of days."

A sickening feeling spread over his systems. A ghost-like shiver spread down his struts. He looked down on his shaking hands, rasping softly, "Twist, I . . . I can't let you die, Twist. I can't . . . I can't have killed you both, please . . ."

"You didn't," Twin Twist said with a faint, sad smile. "Shockwave did. And you know it. Unfortunately, you were just his tool of doing the dirty deed . . . Just sic him good when you've got the chance, all right?"

Wheeljack nodded rapidly. "Right. I'll do that."

"Good. Take care of that kiddo of yours too, right? She's a real good kid."

He nodded again, feeling his vocalizer thicken and wetness sting his optics. "Right."

Twin Twist gave a soft, waning laugh. "Pit, I hung around long enough to see Cybertron restored . . . and you." His lips tipped up. "I think that's reward enough." Wheeljack felt his spark shatter. Twin Twist reached for him. "C'mere. I just need—"

Wheeljack grabbed a hold of him, knowing from his time as a miner how he craved physical touch. Twin Twist relaxed almost immediately, taking comfort in the gesture, and Wheeljack felt his throat close off as he inevitably waited for the end. His spark stuttered as he listened to Twin Twist's vents slow and sputter to a silent halt. His body slumped against him, and Wheeljack gripped him tighter, desperately trying to hold on to him as he slipped away right in his arms. His lips trembled. His voice cracked.

"Twist?"

No answer. Wheeljack felt his chassis begin to heave with rapid vents as he clutched him tighter. "Twist?" he rasped again, voice breaking under the strain of his tears. He bowed his head into his neck, hyperventilating softly into the cold metal. "Twist . . . Twist . . . C'mon, Twist . . ."

Somewhere in his broken pleading, Wheeljack felt sobs catching and heaving from his vents. The pained weeping fell from his mouth plates with great intensity, and he felt his spark cracking, splitting beyond what it had done before, and all the seams became undone. Cries broke from his mouth, some kind of lamenting he hadn't experienced before. It felt hopeless. It felt despairing. It felt dead, and life held no more purpose. The world swam in tears and splotched out of existence as his optics cut out. He felt his servos seizing, his body seizing, and he thought somewhere in the mix he had stopped pleading for the dead and began pleading for the living.

Someone turned him over, and only his logic told him it was Ratchet above him. Servos shook him. Another weeping cry wobbled from his mouth plates, and he jolted, feeling all his strength seep away.

Twin Twist's name faded away.

Miko's name rose into existence.

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Slowly, he felt himself coming online. He felt like his limbs were dead weights, in a sense, close to a human's experience of sleep paralysis or rigamorits. His spark pulsed faintly, weakly, and he felt the waves of a scan ripple through him he was so sensitive.

"C'mon, Wheeljack," he heard someone mutter through a tunnel. "Pull out . . ."

Was that . . . music? Wheeljack strained to stay functional, his large audios picking up the faint melody that became stronger the more he focused on it. He knew that melody . . . Oh, he knew that melody from the depths of his spark . . .

"I wanted you to know . . . that I love the way you laugh . . ."

He seemed to gain strength from that alone. But Primus alive, that meant Miko was nearby. She was right there. Seeking to say something, a muffled mumble caught around dysfunctional lips.

"Wheeljack?"

Two voices, this time. The doctor's, and a small human's. He felt a hand slap his face gently. "C'mon, you sack of bolts, wake up. I know you're right there, so quit hanging out on us. Wake up. She's waited long enough."

"Wheeljack? Wheeljack, wake up! Please, please wake up! Wheeljack? You're okay, Wheeljack, just wake up. Wake up, please?"

A frustrated groan fell from his vocalizer as he tried to get function back into his body. He was right there. He was waking up. Ratchet, stop hitting him. I love you, Babe. Keep singing. He had so much he wanted to tell her. He felt himself shift his entire body with the effort, and he felt Miko scramble to her feet on his chassis.

"Wheeljack! That's right, Wheeljack! Wake up! You're almost there!"

His optics. Yes. Those had to open. Struggling with laboring vents, Wheeljack forced his optics to online, and they flickered and fizzed angrily with static, but after a moment, they cut on and stayed on. He winced a little at how bright the hangar seemed. His mouth plates finally decided to function near correctly.

"Miko . . ."

Her name was a sigh of relief. He heard her give a cross between a squeal and a sob, and she collapsed down at his neck, cuddling up near his audios as a tremble shook her body. Her little fists beat at him.

"You scared me!" she rasped out on a whispered scream. "You scared me, Daddy, don't you ever scare me like that again!"

Another unhelpful grunt felt from his systems, and his servo tried to move and flopped to the side, hitting something. There was a sigh from above and the soft harrumph of collection. "Well, the first sign of recovery is waking up. It's about time, you lazy Wrecker." A hand plucked his up by the wrist and dropped it back on the medical slab. "Quit moving for a minute. Let your system's run its checks and you should be functioning again. Stay awake. I don't need you in another forced stasis for two days."

Wheeljack felt his systems jam and skip. Two days? He summoned up the energy for some more words, knowing he owed them to the human sobbing at his neck.

"I'm sorry . . ."

She hit his cheek again with unconvincing force. "You better be sorry!" He heard her sucking in her breath, trying to catch the tears and stop as she hiccupped. "You scared me! You SCARED me! Don't—Don't you ever do that again!"

"I won't, Babe," he breathed, slowly feeling the function Ratchet promised coming back as he tested his fingers. "I promise. I'm sorry . . ."

He heard her sniffle more, trying to control her running nose. "I'm sorry," she said, cuddling into him more even as she said it. "I don't mean to be mean, I just . . . You SCARED me. I thought—I thought—"

"I'm sorry," he repeated, feeling smaller by the minute. "It's just a little spark failure, Babe, I'm fine."

She hit his cheek again. "Shut up."

Wheeljack sighed, and he tilted his helm towards Miko, nuzzling her gently in apology. Another scan rolled over him, and Ratchet gave a perturbed hum.

"That's good. You two, keep talking. Levels are improving a little. Miko, you keep camping right there, too. When are you going back to Japan?"

"Next week," Miko answered dutifully from Wheeljack's neck. "Next Monday."

"That's not enough time," Ratchet muttered under his breath, and in the same moment, Wheeljack felt his spark seize in dread at being parted with her. Ratchet swore, detecting the sudden dip in Wheeljack's spark levels, and he snapped, "Wheeljack, stop it! Get a hold of yourself, she's not going anywhere!"

"I'm fine!" Wheeljack gasped, chest tightening as he very forcefully pushed the feeling away. "I'm fine, I swear, Doc. I just . . . forgot for a moment. I'll be fine."

"Like Pit you'll be fine . . ." he heard the medic swear under his breath as he turned away. There was even more tangent about "falling into stasis lock" and "giving me a spark attack" and other such explicit material on how angry and worried he was, but Wheeljack tuned it out. Instead, with a heavy grunt, Wheeljack lifted a servo to steady Miko, and then, he propped his other arm beneath him. In a moment, Ratchet was back by his side to help and support him, and with a grimace, Wheeljack pushed himself into a sitting position. His optics lifted, and they rested on Arcee.

She was sitting on the other medical berth as a stool, legs pressed together and elbows tucked in at her sides, the picture of stress and grief. Her servos were pressed to her mouth, and her optics were wide as saucers, and if Wheeljack wasn't mistaken, she was shaking. Instead, as all the current events with Arcee caught up with his mind, Wheeljack felt his spark hurt and a swear word float to mind. None of that was supposed to happen.

"Arcee?"

She didn't seem to respond for a moment. She just stared at him, and then, she blurted, "I'm glad you've got your blue optics back," before she bolted and literally ran from the hangar in a miniature tornado of feelings.

His optics trailed her out. His spark felt even sicker.

I really am the scum of both Earth and Cybertron.

Across the way, he noticed Elita touch Optimus' arm, and she murmured, "I'll talk to her," before stealing a kiss and heading on her way. Optimus watched her go, as any mech drunk in love would, and then he turned solemn optics back towards Wheeljack. He took several steps towards him. "We are glad to see you functioning again, Wheeljack."

Wheeljack felt his jaw tick. "What'd you do with Twist?"

"He's ready for a proper burial," he said with a nod of his helm. "I thought you would like to be there."

"He'll have to regain some strength, first," Ratchet cut in quickly.

Wheeljack heaved a sigh, dropping his chin. "I will. Don't worry." Then, he blinked at the assortment of items in his lap. The only thing that had saved Miko's guitar from breaking was the sleeping bag it had fallen on. A box of tissues sat crooked upon an overturned waste basket of used tissues and half eaten food.

A poke on his cheek brought his attention down. "Bumblebee picked me up from school," Miko said, wiping her cheeks and nose. She sniffed. "Ratchet wanted me here immediately when you . . . went into spark shock and stuff, and he wouldn't let me get off your chassis. Said it was good for your spark. Besides, I didn't want to leave anyway."

Wheeljack felt his vocalizer thicken. "Thanks, Babe," he said softly. He brought her close to his chassis again, murmuring, "I'm not going anywhere, Babe. I promise . . ."

Except maybe the Pit for what I’m going to do to Arcee.

And for some time, he was able to avoid the ugly confrontation with her. Mostly because the first day, while she hovered in the room, she couldn’t bring herself to speak to him. That was fine because he made a great show of being enamored with Miko—which in itself, wasn’t a show at all—and he fell back into recharge early in the night, exhausted. He slept a good portion of the next day away before they gave Twin Twist a proper burial in which Wheeljack was only able to choke out a few words for his fallen brother and his twin before Optimus took over quite well, and even Ultra Magnus had good words. He took comfort in the brothers’ being able to enunciate what he couldn’t.

And even, the rest of that day, she let him be. Mostly because he made a clear improvement (in Ratchet’s words, at least) and Wheeljack suspected it had something to do with the finality of actually putting Topspin’s other half to rest and knowing, that somewhere beyond the void of the All Spark, they were together again, resting in peace.

His crucifixion came when Miko left for the first time to get a needed shower.

He had actually been talking to Smokescreen of all bots, most likely because Twist’s death had effected the bot too since he had been a close friend, but Wheeljack felt himself cringing on the inside when Smokescreen clearly saw Arcee across the base, and he GRINNED. Brightly, cheerfully, and altogether too quickly, Smokescreen made some half-sparked excuse about racing with Bumblebee before he scampered away with a pointed thumbs up Arcee’s way.

Knowing his spark was still weak, Wheeljack took a steadying breath and steeled his insides, preparing himself for what laid ahead. He had held the same thought before he had been processor washed, and now, even after he had more days to think it over, he was sure he was doing the right thing. It might hurt . . . but she’d get over it. One day. And even if she didn’t, he was sparing her from a much worse fate . . .

His servos tightened on the medical berth he sat on when he felt her settle next to him. There was a pregnant beat of awkward silence, and then, she cleared her vocalizer quietly.

“Um . . . Hi.”

His optics flicked up to her. “Hey.” Then, his gaze dropped again as he lost the courage to look her in her optics, lest she see straight through to his soul.

Arcee sucked in a tight breath. She began to say something, hesitated, and then admitted, “You . . . You haven’t talked to me at all the past couple of days.”

He rocked back, throat tightening. “Yeah. I know.”

He let his optics roam the room, taking in Ratchet and Optimus talking on the other end, the only souls that could possibly overhear them it things got ugly. When things got ugly. Elita was out with the human soldiers again, setting up for their goodbye party and baby shower that night. Bumblebee and Smokescreen were who knew where. Prowl and Magnus were on the NEMESIS watching over their captives.

Arcee’s vents seemed to catch with a kind of hidden dread. “Why?” she finally managed. “I mean . . . you’re fixed, right? You remember everything?”

Wheeljack’s jaw ticked. “Yeah. Yeah, I remember everything.”

She paused. “And . . . You remember us?”

He squeezed his optics shut. “Yes.”

Her optics roved his pinched face. Wheeljack felt his winglets tense under her gaze. “Then . . . What . . . What’s wrong?” she whispered.

“I’m a loudmouthed Decepticon,” he finally blurted out. He had to get the ball rolling somehow or he’d never have the strength to go through with it. “I . . . I told you I loved you, and . . . you weren’t supposed to hear that.”

There was a pause, and then, Arcee gave a nervous laugh. “It’s okay if it wasn’t what you had planned,” she said to him, peds rubbing against each other. “It—”

Wheeljack shook his head. “No, Arcee,” he said softly, feeling his spark hurting at the words. “You were EVER supposed to hear those words from me.”

Thunderous silence lashed over him. He lifted his helm, staring at a fixed point on the wall as he said quietly, “I wasn’t ever going to tell you. I was going to . . . distance myself from you slowly. You know, just a show of not caring anymore, and break it off gently—”

“What are you talking about, Wheeljack?”

He winced at the hurt, accusing tone of her voice. Finally, unable to avoid it, Wheeljack looked at her. Her betrayed optics were open wide, to the point it cut. “I’m saying this isn’t going to work anymore,” he admitted bluntly.

“And why not?”

She attacked him with her words. He cringed again, but he met her optics steadily, arguing his point. “You saw what just happened to me over a little fracture. And I’m bonded with Miko. BONDED, Arcee. Albeit artificially, but the residue remains the same. I’m dying, Arcee, a slow death—”

“Stop talking like that!” she snapped angrily, optics beginning to spit fire. “That has nothing to do with us!”

“Yes it does!” Wheeljack persisted, struggling to keep his voice level. “I don’t have a ghost of a chance of surviving the spark break when she dies, and she’s got barely a vorn left to live! Arcee, I know when I’m going to die, and—”

“You don’t know anything,” she sneered before that scared look overtook her again as she picked up on what he was insinuating. “You don’t know that. You could live. You can—”

“No, I can’t,” Wheeljack stated firmly, spark skipping an unsteady beat when Arcee reared back like he had struck her. “And I know what the levels of spark break feel like, Arcee. I’ve had enough fractures that Ratchet said the severity of it equaled spark break, and I won’t let you go through that—”

“No!” She shook her head, grabbing his hand. “I don’t care! Wheeljack, I love you, and I’d rather have you for just a little bit than never at all! I’m willing to endure anything for you!”

“Not spark break!” he stressed even harder. He felt his optics tightening with frustration. “Arcee, I’m not going to let you experience something like that! People DIE because of spark break, and I’m not willing to chance it with you!”

“That’s not your decision to make!” Arcee snapped, jolting to her peds in anger as the sparks began to fly. “It’s MINE. I’ll choose whether or not I want to be with you!”

Wheeljack felt his vocalizer fuse in dread before his mouth opened to drive the nail in the coffin. He stood. “Yes, it is my decision, Arcee, and my decision is that I don’t want to be with you!”

She recoiled again, his words acting as physical blows while she stood rooted to the spot and optics rounded wide. The sheer betrayal and hurt he saw reflected in her optics made his spark move against him, and he felt his features falter into compassion again. He reached to her. “Arcee, you’ve got to understand, I’m trying to protect you—”

Arcee reacted violently, yanking her arm away from him as tears began to glitter in her optics. “Don’t you TOUCH me,” she hissed, chassis already heaving with the effort it was taking her to hold on to the tears. “Don’t you ever touch me again!”

Wheeljack swallowed, feeling his spark breaking again. “It’s for your own good—” he started to say softly, but she cut him off.

“Shut up!” Her servos curled up into tight fists, and they shook like she was going to haul off and hit him, but she didn’t. “I—I—”

She choked on a sob, and she turned on her heel, running from the base. For one moment Wheeljack reached out to her, and then, so frustrated and hurt and angry at himself, Wheeljack released a shout through a gritted growl, and he overturned the medical slab, the most exertion he had put his body through since his spark failure. Shaking in the aftermath and the quiet, his ragged breaths heaved through his body like fire. Stumbling back into the computer, Wheeljack sank to the floor, trembling at what he had done.

For a minute, he just kept his servos clutching at his helm until he noticed that Ratchet had squatted down next to him to take a scan. Wheeljack waved his hand when the doctor took another reading of his spark.

“I’ll live, Doc.”

Drawing in a stabilizing vent, Wheeljack sighed, letting his body relax after the whirlwind of passions. He had known it wasn’t going to be easy, but now that it was done, he felt . . . relieved, if that was the right word to put on the feeling. She would be safe. He wouldn’t futilely bond with her only to be dead within a vorn and cause her to suffer spark break for the rest of her life—that is, if she pulled through it and didn’t die initially from it.

Spark slowing from its erratic race, Wheeljack’s shoulders slumped. It was for her own good. He knew his time limit was for when Miko died, and he couldn’t change it. His spark was too weak to survive the break, and no amount of patching was going to keep him alive at this point. If he could save Arcee from that kind of agony, he would.

Ratchet grunted next to him. “If you want my opinion, you’re a coward, and that was the worst excuse to break it off with her.”

Wheeljack lifted his blue optics to the medic. “But you can’t argue that it’s not a valid reason.” When Ratchet just pressed his lips together mulishly at that, Wheeljack nodded and leaded his helm against the computer he rested against. He closed his optics. “I hope she never knows the kind of pain I’m protecting her from,” he murmured softly.

Ratchet stood with a snort. “I think she already does . . .” the medic muttered as he walked away.

Wheeljack shook his head even though Ratchet wasn’t there to see it. No. She thought she knew what she was in for, but she didn’t. His spark pulsed weakly. Not that kind of pain. He couldn’t ever willfully push that on her just to satisfy his own selfish wants.

Regardless, he hoped she would always know that he loved her. Upon his Wrecking pride . . . upon his spark . . .

He would always love her.

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Wheeljack and Miko were driving laps around the base, just to distract themselves that morning as they waited for the sun to rise. This morning, the Autobots would be heading back to Cybertron; that afternoon, Miko was heading back to Japan. She was all but packed thanks to Wheeljack visiting her house the other night and forcing her to pack. And now? As they drove, she kept talking and talking and talking. It was as if she were making up for all the time she lost with Wheeljack while he was processor-washed, and all the time she would lose with him when everyone had to leave.

“Ratchet says your spark levels are slowly improving,” Miko said, leaning an elbow against the arm rest. “But you still seem depressed.”

Wheeljack gave a soft chuckle, his holoform sitting in the driver’s seat next to her, holding her hand and drawing little circles in her skin with his thumb. “Yeah, I’m still a little depressed,” he said gently. “It’s going to take some time to get over Twin Twist and Topspin, but . . . I think I’ll be able to manage better this time around.” His lips quirked up, and he reached over, giving a gentle tug on Miko’s ponytail. “After all, I’ve got some pretty good emotional support that’s helped in more than a thousand ways.”

Miko giggled at the playful gesture and pushed his hand away. “Yeah? That’s good, because you need a lot of it. You better be happy I’m a patient human.”

He laughed, squeezing her hand and fixing her with a look. “You? You of all the humans on this planet, patient? Aren’t you the one who WATCHES the microwave cook her food because she thinks her food should be done immediately?”

“Oh please, ALL humans do that!” Miko defended herself.

Wheeljack chuckled, nudging her shoulder. “That so? Then explain to me why you threw your things together so quickly last night that Mrs. Davis went back through your belongs to actually fold your clothes and make sure nothing was falling out of any half-zipped zippers?”

“I was in a HURRY,” she explained as if it were the most obvious thing.

He snorted that time, shaking his head at her even as his smile broadened. “How about the time you shouted at Mrs. Davis to hurry up dinner because you had places to be when that Slash Monkey concert wasn’t for a grand several hours yet? Even your music is impatient, trying to fit eighty-eight notes into one musical notation!”

Finally, Miko cracked a laugh, saying, “All right, all right! So I’m not the most patient human, but I’ve gotten better! I swear I have! I’m sixteen now, and I’m all grown up. Right?”

Wheeljack chuckled, and he smiled, shaking a finger at her as he made yet another pointless lap around the base. “Yeah, you’re not all grown up yet, though you’re certainly turning into a fine young lady.”

Miko blushed in pride, and she grinned. “I am?”

“Sure are,” he said, spark feeling more at ease the longer he spent with her. “Jack sure is a lucky little human. And he better treat you perfectly, or he won’t like what an angry papa Cybertronian looks like.”

She grinned, materializing the cute little wrinkle in her nose that Wheeljack lived to see. “I’m sure Jack will be the perfect gentleman. And if not, I’ll hit him in his nuts. Then I’ll let you have him.”

They shared another laugh, and as they did, Wheeljack noticed at the same time she did Ultra Magnus step from the hangar and give a gesture for them to wrap it up. A sigh decompressed from Wheeljack’s systems as the gaiety bubble popped to a more somber note as Miko grew quiet.

“So, what’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get back to Japan?”

Her lips pulled and relaxed. “I’m going to call you and make sure my new phone works right.”

Wheeljack nodded, and he reached over, playing with her ponytail sentimentally. “Good girl.”

“And when you get to Cybertron, you’re going to finally figure out your holoform, right?”

Wheeljack nodded as they made another lap around the base, this time slowly, as if it was going to buy them more time. “Yeah, I’ll finally get that thing straightened out in the midst of all the work that’s going to need to be put into Cybertron. I’ll make sure to send you pictures of all my completed works.”

“Good,” she said. She hitched up her feet on the seat to sit her chin on her knees. She cleared her throat conspicuously. “And if my phone doesn’t work right, I’ll pester Ratchet day in and day out until he fixes it.”

“You pester that mech until he rues the day he let you have a broken phone in the first place.”

Miko gave a little, weak laugh. “Yeah. I can do that easily. And you’ve got that jump drive of all my music, right? There’s some original stuff in there I haven’t shared with anyone yet, so you’re privileged.”

Wheeljack cleared his throat as well. He stroked his fingers through her hair, longing for the day when he could finally feel it for himself. “Yeah, I’ve got it. And if you’re going to be serious about becoming an agent, work hard and train hard. You’d make a really good one.”

“Sure. I’ll make sure I pass all my classes too. I’m smart enough, and I’ll even let you know how I’m doing. You should figure out how to set up Skype from intergalactic distances.”

He laughed for a moment and shook his head in disbelief at her ideas. “Sure thing, Babe. I’ll get to work on that too.”

“And you’ll be back for Christmas and my birthday, right? No excuses? Every year?”

“Most certainly,” Wheeljack said, spark warming at the allotted weeks he got with his human for his health’s sake. If there was one good thing about his failing spark, it was that it gave him the perfect excuse to visit Miko. “We’re gonna have a blast those weeks.”

“Yeah,” Miko said softly, smiling wistfully as she hunkered into his seat even more. “And if your spark levels ever dip below that point Ratchet was talking about, you come back to me immediately, right? No excuses. Promise?”

Wheeljack chuckled, leaning his holoform over to head butt her. “I promise, sweet spark. Any time it happens.”

“Good.” She paused. “You get to come back for my graduation too, right?” she said hopefully, trying to swindle as many days as possible.

“Yeah, you get graduation,” he acquiesced.

“And when I graduate college, too.”

“Yeah.”

“And when I’m getting married. You have to be there.”

“Yeah. Gotta approve the chosen boy.”

“And whenever I have a baby you have to come. You have to see your grandbabies. I’ll have a slew of them. That way you have to come for their birthdays too, and then you won’t ever be able to get off this planet again.”

Wheeljack chuckled, nuzzling her head and tugging cheekily on her ponytail. “Is that so? I might have to alert the Prime of your devious scheming to get me captured!”

Miko giggled a little, snuggling into him. “Yeah? He won’t be able to do anything to help you. I’m the grand master schemer. No one can outwit me.”

As Wheeljack slowly circled around, he noticed Ultra Magnus step out again. The mech gave a more final show that it was time to go, and Wheeljack released another hissing vent of resignation.

“Dad?”

He looked down at Miko immediately. “Yeah?”

Her lips wobbled, and the tears brimmed up and overflowed. “I really don’t want you to go!”

The waterworks started so quickly Wheeljack didn’t have the time to try and quell them. Transforming, Wheeljack cuddled Miko in his palm and held her to his chassis, and he began a slow walk towards the base.

“I’m right here,” he murmured softly, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to say those words as much anymore. Releasing a resigned vent of air, Wheeljack held her as close to his chassis as he could, the image of a flower came to his mind as she could so easily be crushed.

And in a split moment, he was brought back to the very moment he had promised to protect her. It had been almost exactly like this, hadn’t it? They had lost Bulkhead, and he had entered her life by cradling her to his chassis; now, while he wasn’t leaving for good, there was going to be distance between them, and he chose again to hold her close to his chassis.

Wheeljack lifted his blue optics up to the sky with the luminous burning sun. Primus really did have some sort of humor, didn’t he?

As he approached the silo, he slowed down even more, sensitive that Miko was still catching her tears and wiping her eyes and nose. He knew she wouldn’t want anyone to see her like this. He gentle rubbed the top of her head with a finger.

“Are you all right, Babe?”

She sniffed loudly, but she nodded, wiping up the last of the waterworks. “Yeah,” she said, voice actually strong and convincing. “Yeah, I’m fine, but I had to cry, y’know?” She sniffed again, making a face as she muttered something about needing to blow her nose. She lifted her face, looking up at him. “I’ll be good. You?”

His lips tipped up. “Yeah, I’ll be good too. After all, we’ll get to talk to each other every night. And you’ve got a plan to keep me quarantined on Earth.”

Miko laughed, the last of her tears fading away. “Yeah. I guess I’ll have to get started on that.”

Suddenly remembering what that meant, Wheeljack put on his crossest look and pointed a finger at her. “Not until AFTER you’re married.”

She grinned then and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m working on that one.”

Wheeljack smiled down at her, and he looked up when he noticed they were at the hangar. He glanced back to her.

“You ready, Babe?”

Miko looked to the hangar, knowing a new chapter of their life was about to unfold, and while it wasn’t what she expected, it didn’t seem bad. Just . . . different. She looked back up at her guardian, and she smiled.

“I’m ready.”

And actually, as Wheeljack walked into the hangar, it seemed the others were waiting on him. He deposited Miko down next to the little group of humans they had come to care so much about, and his lips quirked up. He pointed at her. “Wreck’n’rule, Babe.”

She mimicked the gesture. “Wreck’n’rule, Dad.”

With a little salute her way, Wheeljack headed out with the others, and they stepped out onto the shining surface of Cybertron which was actually experiencing its sunrise at the same time that Earth was. Wheeljack felt his spark warm at the sight.

Home.

And in the same moment at which he had that thought, he felt a ring in his comm. link. Stunned and puzzled, Wheeljack picked up with a, “Hello?”

“Oh, hi, Dad.” Immediately, Wheeljack felt himself smile and chuckle softly to himself. “I just—well, the phone works, but I was kinda hoping it wouldn’t so you’d have to come back here and fix it, so . . . Um . . . Well, good news! It works!”

This time, Wheeljack couldn’t hold back his laughter. “So it does, Babe. At least you won’t have to pester Ratchet.”

“Yeah, well, um . . . Could you come back for a minute? I need you.”

Wheeljack blinked. “What? Miko, I was just there.”

“Please?” she wheedled. “Just for a moment, I need you.”

He rolled his optics. “All right, Babe. I’m coming back through. Don’t let the Doc shut off the bridge.” Hanging up and turning around, he saluted to Optimus as he passed. “All right, gimme a second, Miko needs something.” He walked through the bridge, and he found Miko on the gangway closest to the ground bridge.

He quirked a brow at her. “So? What’s wrong?”

Miko gestured him closer. “Come here. I need you to look at this. My level. Right over there.”

Puzzled, but willing, Wheeljack walked over to her and bent down to her height and looked in the direction she had pointed him. When he didn’t see it, he asked, “All right, what am I looking for?”

Instead, she leaned up on her toes and kissed his cheek. Wheeljack reared up in surprise and look back to his human. She was blushing like crazy, but she smiled brightly up at him, saying, “Thanks, Dad. I needed a goodbye kiss, and well, now I know you’ll always be there for me, and you’ll come back whenever I need you.”

Spark pulsing with bemusement and happiness, Wheeljack felt his soul swell with so much love for her he could have exploded. Leaning down, he nuzzled her affectionately, a bubble of laughter chasing its way out of his chassis.

“That’s my girl.”