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AUDIO;

Okay, haha, joke's on Fulcrum. It's hilarious, really.

But seriously, I'd like to know where my stuff is. Y'know, what few belongings I have in this place anyway.

My flat's suddenly looking more vacant than usual. So, whoever's playing this little prank, you got me. You got me good. I applaud you. Now give it back.

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[Ratchet's expression nearly cracks and he looks away after a moment, swallowing.]

You can talk to whoever you want, Fulcrum. And I'll show you the needle punctures on your neck, if you want. I--

[He cycles his vents.]

I apologize for tricking you. I was worried you wouldn't let me look otherwise, and I needed to know, but the last thing you need right now is more people doing things behind your back. You should talk to whoever you feel comfortable with, and you can either come with me, or not, while I take this to Ultra Magnus. It's up to you.

Let me just...

[An unsteady, nervous sigh escapes Fulcrum. He hates expressing that much and he's trying his best not to show his fear. As he is now with no memories of the Scavengers, Fulcrum has a great deal more restraint with himself.]

Let me call him real quick.

[Ratchet nods, his face blank but his optics sharp before he looks away from Fulcrum, rubbing a hand weakly over his face.]

Yes. Of course.

[The K-Con backs up and makes his call. It's short, but he looks more worried than before.

Still, he warily approaches Ratchet, wringing his hands and unable to look at the Autobot in the eyes.]

I guess. I guess I'm going with you.

[Ratchet nods slowly.]

Only if you want to. But I'd rather you have someone with you so you stay safe.

Drift kinda offered. I... didn't know who else to ask at this point.

Good. [Ratchet reaches out, putting a hand briefly on Fulcrum's shoulder before he thinks better of it and draws away.]

If Drift promised to keep you safe, you will be. He's loyal if it kills him.

Can I trust him?

[Ratchet just looks at Fulcrum for a long moment.]

Yes. [His voice is steady and unhesitating once he speaks.] You can. I do.

Okay.

[There's a small, shuddering sigh that escapes him. Fulcrum braces his hands over his optics, feeling the edges burn with flits of light. He refuses to cry. He can't.]

So I guess. Whenever you're ready.

[Ratchet nods... then hesitates. After a second, he reaches out and puts a hand on Fulcrum's shoulder, squeezing very gently.]

We can take a minute.

[He feels his voice grow tinier than he'd like.]

I'm fine. I'm fine.

[No, he isn't.]

[Ratchet hesitates, wishing suddenly and powerfully that Krok was here. But he's not, and Fulcrum likely wouldn't accept comfort from him now even if he was.

[So it falls to him. Ratchet shifts, reaching up to cup the back of Fulcrum's helm and tug it down carefully to rest on his shoulder, his free hand sliding towards Fulcrum's back.]

You're all right. [Ratchet's voice is a low rumble.]

[There's a tiny gasp when Ratchet tugs him close. He tenses up and wonders about this embrace for a moment.

Then Ratchet just ... comforts him.

His eyes burn brightly and his vents shudder, upset. Fulcrum buries his face against Ratchet's shoulder, tiny sobbing sounds hiccuping out.]

[Ratchet does pretty much the only thing he can do--he wraps an arm around Fulcrum's shoulders, the other cupping protectively at the back of his helm as Fulcrum sobs. He offlines his optics, his fingers moving steadily up and down Fulcrum's back as Fulcrum shakes apart against him.]

You're all right, kid. I've got you.

[He can't remember anyone ever comforting him. You're rigid, strong, and unyielding in the Decepticon military; you take care of yourself. You don't buckle, you don't cry, you don't stop to help someone if they can't help themselves. You're a cog and if you don't work, you can be exchanged for something better.

You don't cry.

Fulcrum can't fathom the comfort he's being given, but he takes it readily. Maybe if he could recall the memories of the friends he supposedly has, things would be different. But he has nothing, as far as he knows, to base anything off of. He leans his negligible weight against Ratchet, making miserable sounds and feeling his optics burn hot with flits of light as he sobs.

He already knew, but this solidifies it. The Autobots, individually, aren't all bad. Maybe he really can trust him.

It's stupid, but he feels like he still needs to make an excuse for himself.]

I-- I'm sorry. Hell, I don't... I don't know what overcame me. [He still sounds weak and his voice trembles and Fulcrum hates hearing himself, but he struggles to try to get himself back together.]

Hey. You've had a hell of a week. Don't worry about it.

[Ratchet tightens his grip very briefly, then eases, letting Fulcrum pull back if he wants, or stay right where he is. He shakes his head a little, his hand still moving against Fulcrum's back.]

Any one of your crew would do the same for you. I'm sorry.

[He should pull away and stand on his own. Instead, Fulcrum just leans on Ratchet, focusing on cycling his vents.]

...Yeah? They would?

[Fulcrum can't help but feel dubious. It's inherent.]

Yeah, they would. I know they would.

[Ratchet's voice is a little rough, his optics dimming.]

You'd've done the same for them, too.

I... I can't think of. Doing that. I can't think of anyone doing that for me.

I don't know what to think.

...I know. And that's not your fault. But they care about you a lot.

[Ratchet's quiet for a moment, his hand moving absently against Fulcrum's back, and when he speaks again his voice is choked.]

I just wish you didn't have to take my word for it.

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