tfmegaratch | [Fic] Denied Repose

Originally part of Rare Pairing Fest 2023 - Day 1: Underworld -

tf_rare_pairing

Title: Denied Repose
Rating: Teen
Continuity: IDW1
Warnings: Major character death, mild gore, necromancy, one-sided relationship
Summary: In which Megatron decides death is also his to control.

Crossposting: AO3 | Main Dreamwidth | Event Dreamwidth

Fic under cut. See AO3 for complete notes.

“Good doctor,” Megatron started, strapping Ratchet’s limp limbs to the medical slab, not that Ratchet seemed to be in much of a mood to struggle at the moment. He wasn’t in the mood for much of anything, if Megatron were being honest. “This is one of those situations where I’ll be, in theory, asking you for your forgiveness, rather than for your permission.”

The room thrummed with high voltage electricity as it coursed through the wires and circuits of the machinery lining the walls and ceiling. Megatron did not fully grasp the physics behind it, but that didn’t matter. He had read enough of Scorponok’s notes.

The Autobots had made the mistake of leaving their fallen behind in the chaotic aftermath of battle. Megatron had never been one to let an opportunity go to waste.

Ugly welds made by inexperienced hands crossed Ratchet’s cold chest, windshield glass lingering only as shards still stuck inside of the frame. With guidance from Flatline over their commlinks, Megatron had already patched the worst of the damage to Ratchet’s body, leaving only cosmetic injuries that could be repaired. These were not vital, not yet to a functioning body.

Of all the mechs misguided enough to join the Autobots, Ratchet had always held Megatron’s personal respect. One day, he had always reasoned, perhaps Ratchet could have been convinced to see the world from the Decepticons’ perspective. He had seen the worst of what Functionism had done to the people. Megatron had even put out a standing order early on to leave the handsome medic to do his work, to not target him in battle.

This was not how he had anticipated swaying Ratchet to his cause. He had hoped to use words, wielding the powerful weapon of rhetoric. Though, perhaps, in time he could yet do that, but Ratchet would need functioning sensors to receive the anything that Megatron had to say.

Megatron checked the straps again, running the back of his hand along Ratchet’s forearm as though soothing an ailing friend, rather than a deceased enemy. He avoided looking at the medic’s dark, unseeing optics.

Cables, still powered down, hung from the ceiling. Megatron reached into Ratchet’s chest through the gap where the windshield had once been, clipping the cables onto his spark chamber.

He stared for a few moments at the gray, crystalline orb nestled inside. Once it had held all that Ratchet was, powering both his frame and his thoughts. Perhaps soon it would again.

Thankfully the spark itself had not sustained damage or shattered, otherwise even this last hope would have been out of reach.

Scorponok had pioneered this gargantuan machine in his quest to both understand the spark and boost Decepticon numbers. His research had been intended to both keep their strength up and pursue techniques they could leverage when Phase 7 finally arrived.

This resurrection machine, however, had been only sparsely tested due to its unsustainable energy requirements.

Should Megatron have been doing this?

Absolutely not. This was selfish, pure and simple.

What would Ratchet say when he discovered that Megatron had sidestepped the natural order of the universe for him? That was hard to say, but he would be alive to say whatever it was.

If it worked.

Reluctantly leaving Ratchet’s side, Megatron walked over to the control console to begin entering the commands to prepare the machine. Its sole task was to jump start the cold spark in Ratchet’s chest.

The console ready, Megatron initiated the sequence.

Power surged down from the ceiling through the cables and into Ratchet’s empty spark.

“I hope one day you’ll understand.”