Ah the next chapter, The fourth I believe… (yes I am not sure of my own chapters though you wouldn't be either if you wrote it in a notebook without distinct divisions on the pages) I am trying to keep the Chapters about the same length (not counting my little notes here) So I do hope you are pleased and sadly writers block as bitten me for the chapter after this so It might be a little while till I get it out for you guys. As always suggestions and such are appreciated and criticism too, though on the same note flames are frowned upon as I have given plenty of warning. Yay twists, I do hope you enjoy this chapter too. Jeez, I need to stop repeating myself… and talking to myself, somebody might think I am crazy…. Heheheh… Me crazy? You must be we telling the truth. But yes Enjoy!


The next day ratchet was discharged after convincing CloudHaze he was perfectly fine. Walking outside WheelJack gave a choking sob as he saw the charred remains of his lab around the hollow pit where his desk had been.

"M-my… home…" he starred. A crowed had gathered around it and many where whispering and asking each other if WheelJack had finally blow himself up. Those who saw the mech wondered what had happened, too what he was thinking as he stood their stunned. Slowly he made his way to the black spot, carefully he combed the area for surviving things. In his berthroom he found a couple of books only mildly charred from being shoved beneath his berth. Everything else was beyond saving. He held the books to his chassis, the last of what he had only a small comfort. His chemistry teacher met him as he headed back up the slope offering a small sad smile.

"If it's any consolation, I have your successful data saved."

"Thanks Mr. Sparks," he examined the ground before his feet, "It is good to know not all of it is lost.." he admitted. With an encouraging nod Mr. Sparks left him, just as the dean, Primal Data, came out to observe the wreckage.

"What an accident prone 'bot you are!" He said rather loudly, for everyone to hear. "I must congratulate you though, as you have to be the worst mech to ever grace my halls!" He sneered with a haughty tone in his vocals, WheelJack didn't move as he gazed to his toes.

Only a handful laughed and pointed as WheelJack passed clamping his books close, he had to stop as a cluster of toes meet his optic's view. Looking up he found a group of femmes in his way. They all wore sorrowful expressions, obviously not on the Dean's 'good' list. He noted two were white, one mint green, one blue, and the last was golden yellow. He recognized the last as CloudHaze. The bigger pink and white femme stood a bit in front, obviously and happily the leader.

"We're so sorry about what happened."

"Oh, thanks.." WheelJack said softly keeping his voice low so it wouldn't crack. "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"Oh," she smiled, "Sorry, I am Elita." She gestured in turn to the other pink, then the green, "This is Arcee and MoonRacer."

"I'm Chromia," Stated the blue one, her build was much like CloudHaze's

"And we've met," CloudHaze nodded.

"It's nice to meet you all…" WheelJack said and shook his head squeezing his optics shut, "I'm sorry, I have to go!" He bolted heading anywhere he could be away from the other 'bots. He dashed through the halls, turning down another if someone was heading his way, echoes of voices sounded in his mind.

'Screw up.'

'Failure,' the voices hissed and snarled.

'Good for nothing!'


' … never amount to anything.'

'Worthless.' He felt dizzy as the swirled repeating rapidly, he shook his head and ducked into a side door. He found himself in the library, quickly he moved to a shadowed never visited corner in the back and sank to the floor energon flowing from his eyes as he said to the voices, "Stop it!" As the door opened and closed WheelJack froze, his optics wide as he listened.

"WheelJack?" a mech's voice called. He stayed silent curling closer to the shadows, he knew that voice. That voice which he loved so dearly, but he did not wish for him to see him in such a state. He turned his face to the shelves and let the tears flow silently as the footsteps came closer. Feeling the body looming over him WheelJack looked up to Ratchet.

"Are you alright?" Ratchet asked stooping, his voice soft. WheelJack didn't answer, only turned away. "Are you alright, WheelJack?" he asked again reaching over he placed his hand on the other's shoulder. WheelJack flinched, shrugging it off. His thoughts running as such, 'Alright?! How can I be alright!?' When he felt the hand against his shoulder again he struck it away, turning to glare at the mech.

"No I am not okay." Ratchet recoiled from the tortured voice that met his receptors.

"WheelJack…" Ratchet frowned and started towards him again, only to have to dodge the mask that came flying close to his head.

"I am not okay!" WheelJack sobbed loudly, his eyes streaming. Ratchet frowned and shook his head lightly 'Must have been seeing things' he thought to himself.

"I won't ever be anything! EVER!" he sobbed harder, his air circulatory systems sputtering some from the large intakes and then choppy outputs that forced all of the air out. Ratchet was sure he had seen properly this time, WheelJack's mouth didn't move. A slow realization came over Ratchet as he observed this, WheelJack didn't have to move his lips they were disconnected to his vocals.

""WheelJack, you know that load of slag isn't true. Or you had better. You will be great in whatever you decide to do." He stooped and draped an arm over the other's shoulders comforting through another five minutes of uncontrollable sobbing before they both fell into recharge.

It was Prowl who stumbled upon them, his attention caught by the discarded mask at the end of the aisle. With deft steps he crept close to see they were merely sleeping. His optics lingered on WheelJack's upturned face, how tormented he seemed even in the depths of recharge. Ratchet was sprawled over his lap, the books WheelJack had salvaged are his pillow. Prowl couldn't help but smile, they fit so easily together. Slowly his smile fell, he thought how much he would like to have someone like that. Someone he was simply right with. He was surprised when his mind flickered to Jazz. He shook the face from his head and left the sleeping pair just as quietly as he had came.

WheelJack woke first, slowly he began to move, his joints protesting as they were flexed the odd positions of all night hadn't agreed with them. A soft groan of displeasure stilled his movements, looking down to the sound he realized Ratchet was there. Looking around the previous day began to replay over his optics, shame tainted his face plates red. He leaned down and murmured over Ratchet's audios intakes, "I'm sorry."

"Next time," the mech grumbled softly, "Don't throw something at me." He carefully retracted himself from WheelJack and began working the kinks out of his systems. Ratchet stood as WheelJack examined his knees, "I'm sorry." He repeated.

Don't feel bad," He smiled softly waving off the apology as he retrieved the mask. Sauntering back to the distraught mech he offered the small shield, "You weren't even close to hitting me."

Though there were few 'bots in the library, they pair got plenty of strange looks. Prowl, being one of the handful, looked upon them not with oddity nor scorn, but a slight sadness with admiration. Setting aside his books he went in search of the only mech he knew to suggest his wild idea to who might actually help, Jazz. Jazz was Ratchet's friend after all. And so a plot began, Jazz took Prowls Idea and shared it with the group around Optimus, they naturally sought out others to help.

Someone had to make sure Ratchet and WheelJack stayed inside, away from the wreckage that was WheelJack's home formerly. MoonRacer turned down the suggestion of her going with a dark color stain on her face plates. Chromia was out of the question, she might simply hold them at gun point. They turned to Elita, their only hope. It was with a mild gust from her cooling systems that she agreed, unable to say no when so many were counting on her.

As unsure as she was about how to keep them distracted she sought them out. With no idea where to start she paused a mech and asked him if he knew where Ratchet's quarters where.

"Oh, yeah. Just up those stairs go three doors down it's the fourth on the right." He smiled easily and added, "Though it sounds like he is entertaining someone so I don't know if you should go up there right now." Elita thanked him and they parted. Warily the femme went to the door and listened for a moment.

"Augh! N-no!" sounded WheelJack's voice followed by a cackle fro Ratchet.

"Yes! You shall bow to me!"

"I will not!" WheelJack gasped. Elita's optics grew wide as their voices met her processors.

"You shall swallow my wrath!" called Ratchet. Before anything else could be said Elita knocked on the door quickly, -Knockknockknock-. Silence fell upon the inside for a moment before the door was opened.

"Yes?" Ratchet looked to the pink femme curiously.

"Hi, you are Ratchet, right?" Elita tried to temper the nervousness from her voice, and failed.

"Yeah, why?" Ratchet asked folding his arms over his chassis.

"O-Optimus wanted me to make sure everything was alright," She looked past Ratchet's shoulder to WheelJack as he peered curiously back from the other side, "After yesterday…." She finished a bit sheepishly as she thought to herself 'Primus I am such a bad liar'.

"Hey Elita," WheelJack smiled "You wanna play some video games with us?"

"I'm not very good," she admitted.

"Neither is WheelJack," chuckled Ratchet.