My Two Main Ocs, Dragunov And (Name Suggestion From @monsterpib , Windup! *Steals And Runs Away*)

My two main ocs, Dragunov and (Name suggestion from @monsterpib , Windup! *Steals and runs away*)

Dragunov is an osprey (Decepticon) and Windup is a jeep. (Autobot).

(Well, the war is over now. Enemies to friends am I right)

Yippee!!!!

smexy

megan

help him :(

danggg

lovely weather we're having! anyways, enough small chat. you know why i'm here. here's my fun idea: the tfa bots and tfp bots get infected with the hate plague

Hey! :)

Oh, dear. It seems the time has come.

Some of you know this, but—during my Winter Break from college—I made it my mission to view the entirety of G1. That was a rollercoaster from start to finish, and those who got to witness my journey firsthand were thoroughly amused.

And at the end of S3 of G1, there comes the Hate Plague: an pathogen from space spread around by spores that passes with just a touch, infect a victim in moments, and is characterized by the infected showing heightened aggression. They will even target the people closest to them.

For example: G1 Ultra Magnus, the uncontested candidate for Dad of the Year who is constantly protecting and reassuring Rodimus Prime, gets infected by the Hate Plague and seemingly makes hunting the young Autobot leader his personal mission because the angst is strong here. He not only wants to infect Rodimus, but his attempts to do so are violent—he crashes through walls, takes some swings, uses his gun, and the usually mild-mannered commander is screaming in rage.

It’s made clear that those who are infected with the plague, while wishing to infect others, have no qualms with inflicting damage or pain—or even death. And once everyone in a certain space is infected, it’s just an all-out brawl to the death.

After Rodimus is infected, G1 Optimus is able to get through to him briefly—but this may only be due to him having the Matrix of Leadership at that time. It is only through G1 Optimus emptying the Matrix entirely of the collective wisdom of the Primes that the Hate Plague is finally cured.

So… now that context is covered…

We’re really gonna do this, huh?

Okay, okay!

Ahem…

But don’t say that I didn’t give you fair warning.

…

…

…

When Ultra Magnus stepped through the portal, he did not know what to expect.

Back in his universe, Ratchet had sent an alert to him and to Wheeljack—and since Wheeljack was out on patrol and required more time to return, it was the commander who responded first.

In the other universe, someone had tripped the emergency distress signal Wheeljack had set up. No specifics were given regarding the issue, and no response came to attempted contact.

Something was wrong.

So, Ultra Magnus uneasily gripped the Forge of Solus Prime while the portal closed behind him as a precaution. His universe’s Ratchet had warned him not to go, especially not without Wheeljack—but the Wrecker leader couldn’t just wait.

His children were in trouble.

And the field was dark. In the distance, even the buildings seemed to have lost their light. Was the power grid damaged, or maybe shut down?

Ultra Magnus did not know. He just transformed and made his way to Fortress Maximus as swiftly as possible, and he transformed back so that he could carefully start making his way through the halls. It was eerily quiet, and he was unsettled.

Where was everyone?

“Kids?” He asked softly. “Kids, where are you?”

He eventually made his way to the control room, where he found the emergency beacon flashing crimson. The room was in disarray, like there had been a skirmish and the sides had long fled.

The commander frowned as he reached out to shut it down—then he heard something moving and quickly turned around, the Forge raised.

“… Optimus?” Ultra Magnus blinked, recognizing the figure in the dark after another flash of red revealed his shape, then he sighed in relief as he lowered the Forge. “Optimus, thank goodness—you’re alright.” He stepped forward. “Ratchet alerted me when he received the distress call. I came as soon as I could. What’s wrong?”

“Heh.” TFA Optimus looked up, his optics shining red. His axe extended and lit up blue, revealing a grin on his face. “Where do I even begin?!”

“Whoa!” Ultra Magnus stepped back on instinct alone as the smaller mech ran forward and swung the blade at him. “Optimus?! Optimus, stop!” He raised the handle of the Forge and caught the axe blade, his optics wide as they met the young Prime’s. “Please, I don’t want to hurt you!”

“Please, don’t make me laugh!” TFA Optimus pulled back and spun his axe before swinging it with a small blast of fire from the end, knocking the Forge right out of Ultra Magnus’s servos.

Ultra Magnus grabbed his right wrist as pain shot up his arm, then he gasped and rolled to the side right before the axe would have been slammed into his chest. He looked back, his optics wide, as TFA Optimus turned and glowered down at him.

“Optimus?” He asked, at a loss, then he quickly stood and raised his servos. “Hey, look at me. I need you to talk to me, kid—let’s talk, please.” TFA Optimus dragged his axe along the floor as he approached, the sparks flying as the beacon continued to flash. “Optimus, I don’t understand what’s happening!”

“Don’t play dumb!” TFA Optimus snapped as he took his axe in two servos again and swung it, and Ultra Magnus barely dodged. “As if I was actually stupid enough to think that you cared about me, Ultra Magnus! Ha!” The commander looked back, stunned, as the young mech gazed down at him with a mockery of a smile. “You’re no caregiver!” His crimson optics narrowed again as he paused before Ultra Magnus. “You’re not my father.” He raised his axe. “And I’m not going to let you hurt me… So, now: I’ll hurt you.”

“Optimus.” Ultra Magnus raised a shaking servo, his optics wide as he stared at the young mech. “Optimus, please: I would never-”

The commander blinked as something touched his right arm, then he looked back.

Jazz stood there, smirking as his optics shone crimson as well. “Heh. Gotcha.”

“Jazz? What the-?” Ultra Magnus suddenly felt something burn and rapidly start to crawl up his arm, and the commander gripped his right wrist again as he sank to his knees. “Agh…”

That red light continued to flash through the room as Ultra Magnus’s vision blurred.

Jazz moved to stand beside TFA Optimus, then all of the kids were there, then it seemed that most of the people he knew from this universe had come to watch what was happening.

“You would ‘never’?” TFA Optimus asked, raising an optic-brow. “Sorry, Magnus… I disagree.”

Ultra Magnus fell forward and braced himself with his servos, closing his optics as he took a deep vent. His servos closed into fists over the floor, and he could feel his frame trembling.

What was happening?

Why was it happening?

Why was everyone acting so strange?

Why was everyone being so difficult?

Why were they turning against him?!

Hadn’t he done enough?!

Hadn’t he given enough, for all of them?!

Ultra Magnus bared gritted dentas, then the Wrecker commander looked up as his optics flashed crimson and he grabbed the Forge.

“Funny… I find myself agreeing with you.”

…

=+=

…

Wheeljack transformed when he reached the lab and not before. Ratchet looked back at the tire tracks he left on the floor, annoyed, but the white Wrecker was in no mood to care about that.

“I came as soon as I heard.”

“What took you?” The medic grumbled.

Wheeljack retrieved a canister and tossed it to the other mech. “I drove further out ‘cause I wanted a safe distance to test this.”

“Another experiment?” Ratchet examined the canister, perplexed, then he quickly held it away from himself. “Is it explosive?”

“No.” Wheeljack shook his head. “Well, I know for sure now that it’s not… Probably.” Ratchet looked at the Wrecker in annoyance. “Cool your jets, Doc. It’s a new shieldin’ spray.”

The medic scoffed as he set the canister down. “You smell like a burning Energon mine.”

“I could likely survive a burnin’ Energon mine,” Wheeljack remarked, then he shook his head. “Look, doesn’t matter. The distress signal?”

“Ultra Magnus has already passed through,” the medic said, opening the bridge between realities. “I’ve not heard back from him yet. Report back your findings, and I’ll mobilize the others.”

“Right.” Wheeljack nodded. “On it.” The white Wrecker turned towards the swirling portal, then he blinked as someone stepped through. “Mags? Hey, what’s-?” He suddenly had to leap back, barely evading the Forge before it slammed into the floor with enough force to crack it. “Whoa!”

“What in the world?!” Ratchet looked back from the monitor, his optics wide. “Ultra Magnus?!”

The Wrecker commander stood there, bathed in the light of the space-bridge but with shadows cast over his face—and he looked up, his dentas bared and his narrower optics shining crimson.

“Mags?” Wheeljack stared at him, stepping back on instinct as a wave of dread washed over him, then he started backing away as Ultra Magnus turned his glare on him and marched forward. “Mags?! Hey, Mags—it’s me! It’s Wheeljack!”

Had Soundwave gotten to him?

“I know!” The commander assured him.

That was a no.

Wheeljack blinked. “What?” That brief hesitation nearly got him a hammer to his head, but instinct let him drop to the floor and scramble back as the much larger mech approached. “Magnus, stop!”

“One good reason!” Ultra Magnus raised the Forge in two servos and readied to bring it down.

“Uh… Cojunx?!” Wheeljack offered, raising his shoulders. “At least, I really hope that’s a good reason!” He rolled out of the way just before the hammer could come down on his chest. “Nope!” The smaller mech ended up on one knee, and he blinked before his face fell. “Nope?”

‘Don’t take it personal,’ he told himself, and he frowned as he looked up at Ultra Magnus. ‘He’s the one who needs help, right now.’

“Not a chance!” The commander snapped as Wheeljack stood up straight. “I don’t know what ever possessed me to bond myself to you!” He swung the Forge, and Wheeljack dodged. “You’re careless! Insubordinate! Frustrating!”

Wheeljack dodged each swing, and he put on a weak grin. “Heh. Tell me somethin’ I don’t know.” He grabbed the hammer’s handle on the next pass and rooted himself, though he knew that he was no match for his partner’s strength. He just needed to try and calm him down, and to get his cojunx back. “Magnus, I don’t wanna hurt you!”

“Well, that’s too bad!” Ultra Magnus threw the smaller mech aside with ease, and Wheeljack grunted in pain as his back struck a wall and he slid down into a seated position on the floor. “Because I cannot wait to rid myself of you!”

“Sheesh.” Wheeljack looked up at his cojunx tiredly. “Tell me how you really feel, Mags.”

His optics went wide as the top of the hammer was pressed to his chest, and his back scraped against the wall as he was pushed up until his feet left the floor and were left dangling. Ultra Magnus held the handle of the Forge with his prosthetic servo, managing the weight of the Forge and his trapped cojunx with ease, and his crimson optics narrowed as his other servo shifted into a cannon.

“I just did.”

“Wheeljack!” Ratchet shouted, stepping forward and activating one of his blades.

Wheeljack looked at him, his optics wide as he tried to grip the Forge and kicked uselessly at the air. He didn’t want Ultra Magnus to be hurt, but he didn’t know what else to do…

Then, out of the corner of his optics, he saw several other figures darting out of the bridge and into the hallway. Whatever this thing was, it could be able to spread—and quickly.

“Doc, the quarantine!” Wheeljack shouted.

Ratchet blinked, then he nodded. “Right.” He ran over and slammed his servo down onto the large button. “Initiated!” The bridge spun on as the building went dark with a red light illuminating the lab. Ratchet sighed in relief, then he blinked as a servo touched his back. “What in-?!”

“You call yourself ‘Doctor of Doom’, right?” TFA Bumblebee snickered, his optics red.

“That was my self-given title, one Megatron cared to remember if Knockout is to be believed. On Cybertron, those unfortunate enough to think that they would get away with targeting wounded Autobots in my care came to call me ‘the Hatchet’.” Ratchet turned back, his optics glowing red as well while he raised his blade. “Allow me to demonstrate!”

“Oh, slag.” Wheeljack’s optics went wide as the two started to fight, then he looked down at his cojunx again as he grew frantic. “M-Mags, you gotta stop! Someone’s gonna get hurt!”

“Someone always gets hurt!” Ultra Magnus told him sharply, unmoved by the plea. “That was why you set that damned Wrecker creed, right?! I understand, now! When I look to the greatest tragedies of my life, you’re the common factor! You are nothing but a harbinger!”

“… Mags?” Wheeljack stared at him, then he grunted as he was thrown to the ground again before he looked up at his partner and started to inch back across the floor. “Mags, please: listen to me. Whatever’s going on, I need you to fight!”

“Why should I?!” The commander demanded.

“Mags-”

“Don’t call me that! I hate it when you call me that!” Ultra Magnus swung the Forge again, and Wheeljack rolled out of the way and found himself backed into a corner. “I hate you!” Wheeljack drew one of his swords, and Ultra Magnus just glared down at him. “Tch. ‘Til death do us part’. I believe that’s the Earth expression.” He got down on one knee and met Wheeljack’s optics, letting the sword tip touch his emblem. “Go on.” Wheeljack stared at him, the sword in his servos starting to shake, and Ultra Magnus rolled his lyrics. “Alright, then. I’ll do it myself, as usual.”

He grabbed the sword by the blade and cast it aside, then he grabbed Wheeljack by his throat and lifted him into the air—pinning him to the wall and squeezing. Wheeljack’s servos immediately flew up to grip his wrists as his legs kicked at the larger mech’s, but it didn’t even seem to faze him.

“Mmph.” Wheeljack closed his optics as the pressure on his neck increased. “Please, stop…”

“No.” Ultra Magnus was still smirking when Wheeljack looked up him. “I think I’ll just watch the light leave those blasted optics of yours.”

There was a crackle from Wheeljack’s vocalizer, and the Energon was struggling to reach his processor. There were spots in his vision, and his kicks were getting clumsy. It was bad, very bad.

“Mags, please,” Wheeljack tried through the growing static in his voice. “I love you… A-And I’m sorry… Please…” The pressure only increased further, and he closed his optics again. “Ack!”

“Shut up, for once in your pathetic little life,” his cojunx hissed. “If I have to listen to one more-”

Something suddenly blindsided the commander and knocked him away from Wheeljack.

The white Wrecker dropped to the floor, gasping and clutching at his throat, then he looked up with wide optics. His vision gradually cleared, and he saw that it was TFA Bumblebee and TFP Ratchet who had accidentally intervened in his fate—catching Ultra Magnus in their own brawl.

“Grr…” Ultra Magnus cast a glare at Wheeljack, who grabbed his fallen sword on instinct. “This isn’t over! When I get my servos on you-!”

Wheeljack staggered to his feet, sheathing his sword so he could transform and drive off.

…

The Iacon Hall of Records had a safe room.

When the quarantine was initiated, the team was supposed to meet there in order to plan the next move. It was passcode protected, and it would take an Omega Sentinel to bust the door in.

When Wheeljack staggered in and let the door seal behind him, he sank to his knees before looking up wearily. His Bulkhead, Arcee, Optimus, and Knockout were in there. The others… weren’t.

“‘Jackie?!” Bulkhead ran over and kneeled beside him, his optics wide. “Slag. Guys, he’s hurt!”

“How bad?” Arcee came over to get a look, and she grimaced. “Oh, no. Optimus, his neck…”

The Prime walked over and silently got down on one knee, and Wheeljack looked up at him.

“Knockout?” TFP Optimus asked softly, and the medic came over and started to examine him.

“… Strangulation marks. Someone did this to you,” he realized almost immediately, his optics wide, and Wheeljack quickly looked away. “Can you speak? Wheeljack, I need you to try.”

“What’s going on out there?” Bulkhead asked him. “Are we under attack? Is it ‘Cons?”

Wheeljack took a deep vent. “I-” He cringed, raising a servo to his neck as his voice crackled. His teammates grimaced. “I… don’t know.” He looked up at them warily. “Distress signal from the other universe. Mags went to check. C-Came back with… the kids and the doc-‘bot.” He waved a servo before his face. “Red optics.” He lowered his servo. “They were… different. They attacked me and Doc. A-And the things they said…” He took another deep vent. “I’m okay… Experiment, this mornin’. Shieldin’.” He cringed. “Gave it to Doc… Whatever this is, it infected him. He’s-”

“Don’t.” Knockout held a servo up. “We’ve heard enough. Please, don’t try to speak anymore.”

“Some sort infection, passed by touch,” Arcee started to summarize it. “The symptoms are red optics and aggression. Is that the problem?”

Wheeljack nodded, and Bulkhead just looked at him. “… Ultra Magnus got you, didn’t he?”

Wheeljack looked away again, closing his optics, then he looked back at his best friend and shook his head. “He needs… our help. Him, our k-kids, the-” He raised a servo to his throat. “Ah!”

“I said, enough,” Knockout insisted. “I think that I can fix this, but you need to stop now. Alright?” The Wrecker sighed and nodded. “Alright.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Arcee asked, looking at TFP Optimus. “Since Smokescreen and Bumblebee aren’t here, they’re probably infected as well—and since both of them, Ultra Magnus, and Ratchet know the code, this room won’t be secure for much longer… and we’re the only thing between them and the outside. They can break the quarantine if we don’t stop them.”

“Indeed.” TFP Optimus nodded. “If this ailment passes at a touch, it could be the end of both of our Cybertrons and countless worlds beyond. It is up to us to stop it, here and now, at all cost.”

“What do we do?” Knockout asked softly. “Shut the portal and… blow up the Hall?” Wheeljack looked at him with wide optics. “That would confine the plague to the other reality and ensure that it did not spread beyond this building.”

“We would not live to see whether or not the sickness stopped here,” TFP Optimus disagreed. “No. We must attempt to cure this plague.” He rested a servo on his chest. “I will consult the wisdom of the Primes. Perhaps they can help.”

“Here’s hoping,” Bulkhead muttered, then he looked at Knockout. “Can you cut the pain?”

“I can try,” Knockout told him. “In the meantime, you and Arcee better start barricading the door—buy us as much time as you can.” As the other two ‘Bots moved away, Knockout looked back at Wheeljack worriedly… and knowingly. “I’m sorry.”

Wheeljack looked up at him, and he shook his head—trying to convey what he meant without words. ‘Don’t be… We’ll get them back.’

…

When the door came open and the barricade was brought down by a massive hammer, there was one goal: buy Optimus as much time as possible.

One spoken goal, at least.

Wheeljack grimaced as Knockout grabbed his arm and tugged him back while Bulkhead and Arcee stepped forward and raised their fists, and he looked at the medic and gestured to himself.

“You may be the only one with a shield, but you are also wounded. Battlefield rules,” Knockout told him sharply, activating his electro-staff. “If it makes you happy, you will be the very last line of defense between our family and Optimus.”

Wheeljack frowned, then he looked forward as crimson-opticed figured filed into the room.

“I told you that this wasn’t over!” Ultra Magnus growled, looking right at Wheeljack.

Bulkhead shifted his fists into wrecking-balls, his frame tense and his optics narrowed. “Stay back, Magnus. You’re not in your right mind.”

“Way I see it, I’m the only one in this blasted unit who ever makes any sense!” Ultra Magnus shouted, charging at Bulkhead and swinging the Forge—and Bulkhead dodged, only for his own alternate to catch him with a wrecking-ball that shortly had his optics flashing red.

Arcee dodged Jazz and both Bumblebees, but Blurr was too fast for her and she screamed as she was tagged and her optics flashed crimson—then she and Bulkhead both turned back with glares as they readied their weapons.

Wheeljack drew his swords as Knockout fended them back with his staff, the former Decepticon muttering a quick “sorry” with every friend he dropped—but more just kept coming.

Blurr, lethal with that speed, caught the medic and turned him—then all of the infected ‘bots turned on Wheeljack while the injured Wrecker stepped back, his optics wide and his swords shaking in his servos as he put himself between the red-eyed horde and TFP Optimus.

“He’s mine,” Ultra Magnus announced, then he growled again as he saw some of the others move forward. “I said, HE’S MINE!” He swatted them aside, then marched forward and raised the Forge over Wheeljack. “IT’S ALL OVER!”

Wheeljack closed his optics and braced himself, crossing his blades over his head like they would actually serve as any sort of protection.

Suddenly, a blue light bathed the room. “May the Matrix of Leadership light our darkest hour!”

Tendrils of blue shot from behind Wheeljack and out the door, and there was a blinding flash…

…

Ultra Magnus blinked, feeling as though he had suddenly been shaken from some sort of trance.

He shook his head, shaking the last of the daze away, and he became aware that he was holding the Forge behind him—ready to swing it down.

He blinked again—then he looked down, and-

“Wheeljack?” Ultra Magnus asked softly, stunned, and his cojunx looked up at him with wide optics through the crossed blades shielding his head.

The smaller mech was covered in scratches and dents, and he looked shaken… terrified, really…

And there were even dents set into his neck.

“I think I’ll just watch the light leave those blasted optics of yours.”

“No.” The Forge dropped to the ground, and the commander stepped back. “No, no, no.”

Wheeljack blinked, his face falling from fear to dismay, then he sheathed his swords and stepped forward—but his knee buckled and he dropped.

“Wheeljack!” Ultra Magnus kneeled and caught him on instinct, his optics wide as he watched his partner silently wince in pain and raise a shaking servo to his wounded neck. “Oh, no. Wheeljack-”

Knockout was suddenly there, pulling Wheeljack back—out of Ultra Magnus’s arms and into his own. The medic’s optics flashed with something wild and protective, born from a time when he was betrayed by something that came under the guise of his own cojunx, then it softened as he forced himself to take a deep vent and frowned.

“I need to get Wheeljack to the med-bay now, if I’m going to help him,” he insisted in a hasty but reasoned excuse, then he looked up. “Bulkhead!“

“On it, Knock.” Bulkhead came over and gathered his best friend into his arms, looking down at the other mech sadly as he cringed. “Sorry, ‘Jackie…”

Ultra Magnus couldn’t move as he watched his cojunx be taken away. He thought that he saw Wheeljack’s servo reach back for him, but he probably imagined it. His mind was spinning…

“What have I done?” He asked, horrible images flashing in his mind. “Wh-What have I done?!”

He reached up and gripped the sides of his helm, closing his optics and shaking his head as he tried to find any way to dispel the nightmare he was caught in—but it was all too real, and he knew it.

The rage, the horrible things he said and did, the fear in his family’s optics, his ruthless attacks, his repeated attempts on the life of his sparkmate…

It was real.

“… Ultra Magnus?” A voice asked, and he opened his optics. “I’m sorry.” The commander blinked, then he looked to his side and saw a young mech kneeling beside him. “I’m so sorry.”

“Optimus?”

“I don’t know why I said all of those things.” The young Prime looked absolutely devastated. “I-I would never-… You’re-…” He but his lower lip and shook his head, then he closed his optics as his shoulders raised before sagging. “Those were the most terrible things I ever could have said to you, the things I know would hurt you most coming from me because I know you. And I know that you would never hurt me, never hurt any of us.” The young mech opened his optics and gazed up at the commander again, his whole frame starting to tremble violently. “A-And you will always be my father… I love you, a-and I’m sorry!”

Ultra Magnus didn’t even think about it before he pulled the young mech into a hug, and he closed his optics as TFA Optimus buried his face into his chest and hugged him back.

All around the room, there were similar apologies made and embraces offered to shaken members of a shaken multiverse family.

“… They really called you ‘the Hatchet’?” TFA Bumblebee asked quietly from where he sat on the floor with his knees pulled to his chest and TFP Ratchet’s arm around his shoulders.

The medic closed his optics. “I need to learn how to shut up while I’m under the influence.”

“Don’t worry, Ratchet,” TFP Bumblebee said flatly from wheee he sat with Smokescreen, Blurr, and TFP Arcee. “Some substances just happen to put a tiger in your tank. We love that about you.”

TFP Arcee snorted while Smokescreen looked confused. “I think I’m missing an inside joke.”

TFP Ratchet opened his optics. “I hate you all.”

“Better blast him again,” Jazz said tiredly.

TFP Bumblebee shook his head. “No, he’s good.”

“… Excuse me?” TFP Optimus looked up groggily, an optic-brow raised. “But where am I?”

Everyone looked at him, their optics wide, then-

TFP Ratchet deadpanned. “Oh, son of a-”

…

…

Ultra Magnus stayed with the children through the night. Field-Tech Ratchet and Professor Arcee would have stayed with them, but they went to be with Omega Supreme. The plague never made it to either Earth, so the Sumdacs and the humans had been spared from its effects.

Small mercies.

The wisdom of the Matrix had spread across both universes though the bridge, leaving the vessel empty and poor Orion Pax at a loss. The plan was to take him to Vector Sigma come daylight, and the archivist had agreed to go—to see the great super-computer if nothing else.

When morning came, Ultra Magnus received a message from Knockout. Wheeljack had come out of surgery alright—though, as usual, he had become very sick from the anesthetic. The medic had stayed up all night with him.

There was a pang in the commander’s spark as he read those words, imagining his cojunx going through surgery and sickness alone—and due to wounds inflicted by his own hand.

He couldn’t even look at the Forge.

He couldn’t even look at himself.

Not his reflection in the mirror. Not the prosthetic that his cojunx had crafted for him.

“Mags, please… I love you… A-And I’m sorry… Please…”

The children could see how he was affected. Pit, they were affected—they had been infected first, and attacked him and each other.

Their best guess was that the plague had been brought by a meteor, one that struck a ship and contaminated it. The plague touched down on their Cybertron and spread rapidly.

But that didn’t even matter anymore.

Forget the cause.

Look at the effect.

By midday, Ultra Magnus could take it no longer. He had to see for himself that Wheeljack was well, just for a moment. From there, he would allow his wounded partner to pass judgement.

Regardless of whether or not the commander had been in control of his actions, he knew that what he had done while sick was horrible—traumatic, even. If Wheeljack wanted nothing to do with him, it was within his right and Ultra Magnus would respect it to spare him further pain.

He steeler that resolve within himself, no matter what pain it brought or would bring.

It was for Wheeljack.

It was worth it.

“Wheeljack?” He knocked on the doorframe. The hospital room’s door had been left open, and he could see his conjunx lying very still on a medical berth. “I’m sorry, I-… M-May I come in?”

Wheeljack turned his head and looked at him with glazed optics, and he nodded.

Ultra Magnus hesitantly entered the room, and he stopped a good distance away. “Knockout said that he-… He was able to help.”

Wheeljack nodded again, then he turned his face away. There was a data-pad lying on the cot by his side, and he was typing on it.

Ultra Magnus just watched him for several long moments, then he took a deep vent.

“… Wheeljack, please look at me,” he pleaded, and his partner paused his typing. “Please, talk to me. Anything, I-…” He closed his optics, completely missing how Wheeljack started backspacing on whatever it was he had typed. “I don’t know why I said and did those horrible things, but-… But I-…” He shook his head. “If I could just take them all back, I would. I would do anything.”

“Hm.” Wheeljack looked up at him, and he sighed softly. “… Ultra Magnus-”

“I don’t hate ‘Mags’.” Ultra Magnus looked up at him, feeling something prick at his optics. “I don’t—I swear, I don’t. I know how you give nicknames. You use Shoulder-Pads and chief or the like when you’re annoyed, but Magnus and Mags? They’re affectionate. And I don’t want that to go away.” He walked over and kneeled beside the medical berth, and he took Wheeljack’s servo in both of his own. “I don’t want you to go away. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. I love listening to you talk, and watching how your optics light up—the most beautiful optics in the multiverse.“

“Hm.” Wheeljack gazed at him sadly, typing away at the data-pad with his free servo but not taking his optics away from his grieving partner.

“You are the love of my life—the best luck I’ve had, or ever will have,” Ultra Magnus insisted. “You are reckless and you break the rules, you fry my circuits—but you are good, intelligent, kind, and loyal to a fault.” He felt the tears start to fall. “You’re only tied to the greatest tragedies in my life because I always let you down. I keep letting you get hurt. I keep hurting you, and chasing you away. The most-important person in my life, and I can’t stop the pain.” He shook his head. “I’m not asking you to forgive that. Just know that, no matter what, my spark is yours. I’m yours, forever. I love you, and I’m sorry.” He rested his forehead against Wheeljack’s servo. “I’m so, s-so sorry!”

“… I know.” It came out as a hoarse whisper.

Ultra Magnus looked up, blinking back tears, and found the data-pad being offered to him.

His spark sank as he took it into his free servo, as he automatically assumed the worst: severance papers. And he felt like he deserved it…

Instead, he found a short note:

Next time, wait a little longer after throat surgery before striking up a conversation.

I’m high as a kite and very tired, so keeping my optics open and maintaining chit-chat is not my strong suit at the moment.

This wasn’t your fault, Mags. I know that.

You have nothing to be sorry for.

P.S.: I love you, too.

Ultra Magnus stared at the data-pad, then he looked up as his cojunx gazed up at him before raising an optic-brow and offering a tired grin while he managed to raise his shoulders.

“Wheeljack.” The commander set the data-pad aside and rested a shaking servo on the side of Wheeljack’s face, then he managed a weak smile. “Forgive me, for my impaired judgement.”

Wheeljack raised a servo to hold Ultra Magnus’s in place and shook his head. “Nothin’ to forgive.” He took a deep vent. “The kids? Are they-?”

“Shaken,” Ultra Magnus whispered. “Guilt-ridden. And worried about you, Wheeljack… They stayed the night. I think they’re still in our room.”

The smaller Wrecker nodded as he took that in, then he gave another weak smile. “Glad they’ve got you, Mags, lookin’ out for ‘em.” He nodded, closing his optics. “Can leave, soon as clear. Calm ‘em down.” He gestured to a button. “Call-”

“No rush,” Ultra Magnus insisted gently. “You’re recovering, and-… And we know what anesthesia does to you.” Wheeljack cracked open his optics and shot an annoyed look at his partner. “Rest.”

The annoyed look fell away as he saw the tears welling up in Ultra Magnus’s optics again.

“… Only if you stay,” Wheeljack whispered, and the commander blinked. “The kids can come, if they want.” He gently squeezed his cojunx’s servo. “I just don’t want you to go away.”

…

…

…

…

…

…

Ultra Magnus transformed upon his arrival at the lab. Ratchet shot an annoyed look at him, but—as far as the commander was concerned—urgency overshadowed etiquette.

“I came as soon as I heard,” Ultra Magnus told him as he approached, then he sighed. “I need to invest in a swifter vehicle-mode.”

“And a mop.” Ratchet indicated the dark tread marks, then he raised an optic-brow. “You smell like a burning Energon mine.”

Ultra Magnus rolled his optics. “An experiment of Wheeljack’s, from this morning.”

“Tested on you?”

“I insisted,” Ultra Magnus admitted. “He would have tested it on himself otherwise. His alternate self has proven a bad influence.” The commander grew serious. “Where is he? Did he already respond to the distress signal?”

“He did.” Ratchet nodded, his expression grim. “And there’s been no word.”

“Right.” Ultra Magnus turned to the space-bridge and gestured, and Ratchet needed no more prompting before he activated it again. “I’ll find him, and-” He blinked, surprised, as someone passed through. “Wheeljack?”

“Heh.” The smaller mech looked up with crimson optics, his scarred lips curling into a smirk as he tilted his head. “Hey, commander.”

Ultra Magnus’s frame tensed.

Something was very wrong.

Ratchet frowned. “What’s going on? Why didn’t you respond to my communications?”

Ultra Magnus noticed the swords gripped in his cojunx’s servos. “Wheeljack, talk to us.”

Wheeljack’s smirk fell into a scowl as his mask slid into place. “There’s nothin’ to talk about!”

“Wheeljack?!” Ultra Magnus had to step back and avoid a swipe of those swords, his optics wide, then he drew the Forge on instinct to block the blades. “Wheeljack, stop!”

“You can't tell me what to do!” The smaller mech shouted, flipping backwards and landing in a crouch before lunging forward and planting both feet on the handle of the Forge.

The force was enough to make Ultra Magnus stagger back, but he regained his bearings and looked up with wide optics. “Wheeljack, please: I don't want to hurt you!”

“Oh, sure!” The white Wrecker stood up straight and spun his blades, optics narrowed. “Just control me, right?!”

Ultra Magnus freed his right servo and held it up. “Wheeljack, I need you to listen to me. You’re not in your right mind.”

The smaller mech’s shoulders raised. “And I wish I never admitted it!”

“Wheeljack...” The commander’s face fell. “No, no—I'm so proud of you for seeking help. I’m proud of you every day. This is different.” He lowered his servo and stepped forward. “Something is wrong, and you must fight!”

Wheeljack huffed. “First bright idea you've had all millennium!”

Wheeljack spun his left blade before throwing it, and Ultra Magnus grunted as it pierced his left ‘shoulder-pad’ and stuck.

“There I go, playin' by your rules,” Wheeljack muttered as he approached, and Ultra Magnus looked at him warily. The smaller mech stalked around him like a circling hunter. “I can't believe I didn't see how whipped I'd gotten!”

Ultra Magnus frowned. “Wheeljack-“

“Yes, sir! Aye-aye, captain! Whatever you need, commander!” The white mech rolled his optics. “Ugh! I don’t know what came over me!” He reversed the grip on his blade. “It’s over, now! I’m shakin’ off the rust! We’re done!”

Ultra Magnus swung the Forge onto his back and grabbed Wheeljack by his elbows as soon as the smaller mech lunged, and the commander swiftly dropped down onto one knee and pinned his cojunx beneath him. He grunted as the hilt of the sword in his shoulder pressed against Wheeljack’s shoulder, made no less painful as the smaller mech thrashed violentmy, but he did his best to ignore it. He had bigger problems.

“Let go of me!” Wheeljack demanded.

“No!” Ultra Magnus had noticed other red-opticed figures coming in through the portal, and he had to try and contain whatever this malady was. “Ratchet, the quarantine!”

“Right!” The field tech ran over and slammed his servo down onto the button, activating the quarantine and sealing off the Hall of Records, only to cry out as a small yellow figure touched him and his optics flashed red.

Ultra Magnus’s optics widened. “No.”

Whatever this was, it spread with only a touch.

“Mmph!” Wheeljack was still struggling in the commander’s grip. “Why, you-!”

“Wheeljack, listen to me!” Ultra Magnus looked down at him, his optics narrowed, then his face fell as that only seemed to make his partner even more furious. “… Wheeljack. You are my cojunx. I may be an officer—but before we bonded, we talked about this and I swore on the Allsparks, Primus, and our children that I would never-” He cringed as the sword was driven further into his shoulder. “That I would never abuse my power!” He looked down at his cojunx desperately. “I was scared of the imbalance, but you weren't! You never listen to me, anyway! But you trusted me! We are partners, equals—you know that!"

“Get offa me!” Wheeljack started trying to kick at Ultra Magnus’s legs, determined to break free of his grip. “To think, I tied myself to you!”

"Wheeljack!” The commander could not keep the hurt out of his voice. “You are the love of my life, the father of our children-“

Wheeljack looked absolutely murderous. “Don't you dare talk to me about kids! Not after the Dinobots!” Ultra Magnus’s Energon ran cold. “I lost everythin' because of you!”

“… I don't know what's happened to you, but I know your strength,” Ultra Magnus insisted. “You’re the strongest person I know. I know you can fight. Please, snap out of it!”

Wheeljack went eerily still and closed his optics, then he opened them again as he glanced to his left before looking up at Ultra Magnus again. “Stop tellin' me what to do!”

Wheeljack suddenly shifted his left servo into a cannon, and Ultra Magnus pulled his servo back on instinct as pain shot up his right arm.

He realized his mistake just a second too late and dove to the side right before a cannon blast out a crumbling hole in the laboratory ceiling.

The commander went to get up, but a foot struck him in the chest before he could get far and knocked him flat onto his back—and Wheeljack pointed a cannon at his face, a sword gripped in his other servo as he held the other mech down.

“Wheeljack, don't,” Ultra Magnus tried, holding still to try and avoid provoking his cojunx.

“Hm.” Wheeljack raised an optic-brow. “What's next? Sit, stay? Good boy?”

Ultra Magnus’s optics narrowed, and he activated his cannon and took aim at Wheeljack.

It was a bluff, one he hoped would be enough to at least make his partner hesitate.

“I need you to stop,” the commander insisted.

“… Or what?” Wheeljack asked, not even fazed. “Time to put me down?” He shrugged. “Guess that's what happens to unruly pets… and let’s face it, we both knew that this is always how it was gonna end.” Wheeljack’s mask slid away to reveal a condescending smirk. “Wrong unit for anythin’ else—right, commander?”

Ultra Magnus’s face dropped.

Wheeljack huffed, then he spun his blade and went to bring it down on his sparkmate—only to be knocked aside by a blast of electricity.

TFA Bumblebee snickered, and Ultra Magnus took the opportunity to scramble to his feet.

The sword piercing his shoulder prevented a transformation, so the commander turned and ran—his spark pulsing wildly as he went.

“You can run, Mags, but you can’t hide!” His cojunx shouted after him, then he let out a cruel laugh. “We’re finishin’ this, one way or another!”

Oh, yes—they were.

…

Wheeljack blinked as his head cleared-up, feeling strangely drained. His legs felt ready to buckle underneath him, and he was holding one of his swords in two servos.

“Huh?” He blinked again, then his optics widened in disbelief. “M-Mags?”

“Wheeljack?” His cojunx stood there, his optics just as wide as he used one of Wheeljack’s own swords as well as the Forge to shield himself.

They were in Iacon’s safe room, the whole team, and… it all came rushing back.

Wheeljack threw the sword in his servos aside like it had burned him, his frame starting to shake as he stepped back and away from his cojunx. He could see dents and scratches, Energon leaking from his partner’s shoulder-

“Wh-What did I do?” He managed.

“Wheeljack-” Ultra Magnus dropped his weapons, stepped forward, and reached a servo out.

“No.” Wheeljack shook his head as he stepped back again. “No, no, no, no, no. What did I do?”

“Wheeljack!” Ultra Magnus grabbed Wheeljack’s servos in his own, then he freed one and raised it to the side of his partner’s face. “Look at me. I'm alright.” He put on a weak smile. “It's alright. I promise, I’m alright and it’s alright.” Wheeljack just stared at him, already feeling tears welling up in his optics as he kept shaking his head. How could anything possibly be alright? “… I’m alright because you erred on the dramatic, as usual—and you should’ve just caught me off-guard and shot me when coming out of the space-bridge.”

“Mags!” Wheeljack’s optics widened, his jaw dropping, then he saw the grin on his cojunx’s face. “Terrible. Fraggin’-” He stopped when Ultra Magnus kneeled and hugged him, then he closed his optics and hugged back. “… Terrible.”

“I know,” Ultra Magnus said quietly.

Wheeljack shook his head. “I'm sorry, Magnus. I'm so sorry. I-I don’t know why I-”

“It's alright.” Ultra Magnus rested a servo on the back of his head. “It's alright. It’s going to be alright, now.” Why weren’t they talking about it? They needed to talk about it. “Kids?”

Oh.

That was a pretty good reason.

“Wheeljack? U-Ultra Magnus?” That was TFA Optimus. “What-? What did we-?”

“It's alright. Come here.” Ultra Magnus removed his servo from Wheeljack’s head and held it out, and he chuckled softly as he suddenly had a whole crowd around him. “Oh, I've got you. I've got you…” Wheeljack could have sworn he heard his cojunx’s voice change, becoming forlorn. “I’ve got all of you.”

“Well, you shouldn’t—not with that arm!” Knockout scolded from somewhere else in the room. “You better hope that hug goes on for a while, Ultra Magnus, because as soon as I get my servos on you-!” A pause. “Uh… What’s up with Optimus Sr.?”

“What’s going on?” A deep voice asked groggily. “Who are all of you?”

“Hi, Orion,” TFP Ratchet greeted flatly. “You missed the party.”

“Ratchet?! What happened to you?! Why-?! Why are you so old?!”

…

…

It was quiet in their room, that night.

Wheeljack sat at the desk, seeming to just find things to fidget with. He only really spoke to insist that Ultra Magnus stay on the berth and rest.

The commander couldn’t bring himself to recline while his partner stayed sitting, so he perched on the edge of the berth and pretended to read a data-pad—all while his spark ached in his chest.

Their room wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Quiet suited the two of them well, but it should not have been silent, distant, and uncomfortable.

“… Maybe I should go stay in the other room, for the night,” Wheeljack finally offered, and Ultra Magnus looked at him with wide optics. “So you can have some space… while you’re healin’ and all. I’ll come back in the mornin’, if you want.”

“To make an appearance for the kids?” Ultra Magnus asked softly, and Wheeljack set his little project down. “… I don’t want you to leave.”

Wheeljack looked back at him, frowning. “Mags, I attacked you. Frag, I was attackin’ everyone.” He looked back at the desk. “That’s not alright.”

“You were not in control of yourself, Wheeljack,” Ultra Magnus told him quietly. “We know that—and as you’ve assured the children before, like in the Soundwave incident, that means you did not do the attacking. This sickness did. Not you.”

Wheeljack closed his optics. “But I can see myself doing it. I can remember what I was thinkin’, how it changed me. All of that… rage, and it was all I was—and I enjoyed it.” Ultra Magnus stood and walked over to him, his expression forlorn as he rested a servo on his troubled cojunx’s shoulder. The smaller mech sighed, then looked up at him. “Is that what I’m like, when… I go red?”

“No.” Ultra Magnus shook his head. “It’s not. You weren’t yourself today, in any way. You’re not an angry mech, Wheeljack—far from it. You’re slow to anger, slower to rage, and you hate to shout. And you are kind and loyal to a fault, you would never harm any of us even on your worst day… This was not your fault.” The white Wrecker nodded, but he still looked away. “Hm… Wheeljack?”

“Yeah, Mags?” Wheeljack looked up at him, then he blinked as his partner silently moved his servo away. “Mags? Hey, what is it?”

Ultra Magnus hesitated, then he sighed. “It’s just- Well, I-…” He closed his optics, bracing himself, then he opened them and looked at his partner. “… Tell me how I can change.”

Wheeljack blinked again. “What?”

Ultra Magnus stepped back and sat down at the foot of the berth. “You weren’t in control, but… in your anger, you said some things—and now, I fear that I have been failing you as a partner and that you haven’t been coming to me about it. The last thing I would ever want to do is harm you, or make you think I mean you or anyone else any harm, and I just-… I want to do better. Help me to do better, please.” He closed his optics. “But now, I’m doing it again—telling you what to do.”

“Magnus-”

“You said that I behave as though I wish to control you, that I force you to play by my rules and heed my command, that I tell you what to do and act as though you are my pet rather than my partner,” the commander admitted, opening his optics and gazing at the floor as he let his arms rest on his knees. He felt absolutely disgusted with himself. “That you can’t believe that you bonded yourself to me, that you still believe I’m just going to get you killed, that-… That you still blame me for what happened to the Dinobots.” He shook his head. “I know that I can never make amends for that.” He put his face in his servos. “But… please… tell me how I can change, Wheeljack. I just want-”

Ultra Magnus heard his cojunx move in his chair and looked up.

Wheeljack had stood, and he was staring at the commander with wide optics filled with tears… then, he closed them and took a deep vent as he just stood there.

“Wheeljack?” Ultra Magnus stood, growing worried. He noticed that Wheeljack clenched one fist at his side while the other servo opened, but seemed to be slowly counting down. “Wheeljack, please: talk to me.” The servo opened again, restarting the count, and Ultra Magnus blinked before he raised an optic-brow. “… Wheeljack?”

He waited for the slow count-down to end, his wariness growing with every passing moment.

When it did, his cojunx opened his optics and looked up at him, then he put on a weak smile.

“… You can't tell me what to do,” Wheeljack said quietly. “Never could.” Ultra Magnus blinked again, surprised. “You sure used to try, back before we figured each other out—but you never could, and you never will.” He stepped forward to face Ultra Magnus, that weak smile still on his face. “Hm. And you're the one person in my life l've always been completely honest with. If I had a problem, you'd be the first to know and I’d make a show of it. I do err on the side of drama, after all.”

“That’s not going away for a while, is it?”

“No, ‘cause I’m an insufferable fragger and you can’t live scrap down with me around,” Wheeljack told him pointedly. “And you knew that when you cojunxed me.” The smaller mech crossed his arms. “And now, you're tellin' me to tell you how you can change—like you actually think l'm gonna do that, let alone do it because I feel intimidated? Please.” Wheeljack smirked. “You can call me 'soldier' all you like. Don't make it true. You'll never get me under control, and we both know it.”

“Heh.” Ultra Magnus felt his spark warm, then he shook his head. “Wheeljack-”

“Magnus.” The smaller mech frowned at him. “… I don't know why I said that. It's a lie, all of it.”

Ultra Magnus sighed. “But-”

Wheeljack stepped forward again and grabbed his servos. “All of it. I love you, Mags. More than that, I trust you—with my life, and with our family. And I wouldn't change a damn thing about you.” He looked down. “I just fraggin’ hate myself for hurtin' you. I promised myself and you that I'd never take my anger out on you again, and-”

Ultra Magnus’s face dropped. “Oh, Wheeljack.”

Wheeljack closed his optics. “Y-You, the kids-”

“I’m sorry, I-“

"No.” Wheeljack looked up at him and shook his head. “No… Don’t you be sorry for a thing.”

Ultra Magnus reached up and gently wiped some of the Energon from his face. “Only if you’re not.”

“Not fair,” Wheeljack murmured.

Ultra Magnus gave a small smile. “I never said it was, but that’s the deal. We’re partners in this.”

“… Why didn't you fight back?” Wheeljack asked softly. “I-I could’ve-…”

Ultra Magnus shook his head. “I didn't want to hurt you. I would never.”

“Magnus-”

“Wheeljack.” Ultra Magnus leveled a pointed look at him. “I hate to say it, but look at us. One wrong move, and I could seriously hurt you. In battle, l've done rather gruesome things to my enemies without even thinking about it. If I fought back and my control slipped, even for a moment- No.” He shook his head again. “No.”

“Hm.” Wheeljack’s shoulders sagged. “I probably would've done the same thing.”

Ultra Magnus huffed. “Wheeljack, did I not just say I would probably kill you? I mean, if I came after you with my full strength-”

Wheeljack deadpanned. “Hey, which of us carrie swords and is ridiculously fast and agile? I’m off the rails, Mags—I threw a sword and long-distance stabbed you! I coulda decapitated you! I go for the head, a lot! And-“ He blinked. “Why the frag are we makin' this a competition?” Ultra Magnus snickered, and the smaller mech huffed and shook his head. “Hm. Terrible.”

Ultra Magnus kneeled, wrapping his arms around his partner. “I love you too, by the way.”

Wheeljack smiled, then he closed his optics as he hugged him back and rested his forehead in the crook of his cojunx’s neck. “‘M sorry.”

“I know.” Ultra Magnus nodded. “But we're really alright, right?” He glanced around the room, where all of their sparklings were scattered and (thankfully) in a deep stasis. “All of us.”

“Yeah.” Wheeljack managed to give a weak laugh. “Fraggin' dumb luck, that.”

“We're Wreckers, Wheeljack.” Ultra Magnus closed his optics. “It's our lot.”

“… So, we're definitely gonna hafta fix that whole 'Orion Pax' thing—right?” Wheeljack asked.

Ultra Magnus sighed. “Tomorrow.”

“Heh. Okay, Mags.”

after 12 hours of dying i finished it. somebody save optimus