Transformers Prime: Through Bad and Through Worse

Chapter Forty

It was extremely early the next morning, when the room was peacefully silent, and Ratchet had somewhat relaxed on his little blanket, when Megatron suddenly gave a small groan and heaved himself off the berth, a tired look in his optics. Ratchet became alert immediately and watched him closely, as he grabbed a cube of energon, and made his way to the door on clumsy and tired peds. Before he left, however, he turned and looked at the medic, lips set in a firm frown. "This place will be spotless when I get back," he stated dryly, "and if you think you could sneak energon, I'll have you know, I am aware of the exact amount I have in this room. I will find out if you take any." Ratchet gave a small nod. The warlord left, the silence returning the moment the door slid shut.

Ratchet sighed, one servo drifting over to brush against his sparkchamber, as he called to his mate across the bond.

::Ratchet? Are you alright?::

::I've been much better...::

::Are you hurt?:: A smile crossed Ratchet's lips, as a wave of concern flooded across the bond from the Prime.

::No... But I have a feeling that won't last.::

::Ratchet... I... I'm so sorry.::

:: I'm fine, Optimus. I can take it. Please, don't worry about me.::

Ratchet stopped for a moment, sighing out loud. This was hard. How was he supposed to tell Optimus that he was wearing a shock collar with orders to clean their worst enemy's berthroom? He wanted to, but he also didn't want to worry his mate too much. He best change the subject.

::...How's my little femme?:: The medic asked after a moment. He loved that little ball of mischief... even if he wasn't a huge kid bot.

::She misses her carrier. Last night she wouldn't stop crying... she kept saying your name. Or the abbreviation for it.::

Ratchet gave a small laugh. ::Tell her I love her... and you.::

::And we love you, Ratchet.::

::I need to go. Megatron... he has a couple tasks assigned for me.::

::I'll get you back, Ratchet. I swear on my spark.::

::I know.::

Ratchet cut the link, a soft smile remaining on his lips as wave after wave of affection slipped across the bond from both ends, reassuring both mates. He slowly got to his peds, looking around, huffing in annoyance.. The place was a hopeless mess. A dusty, cluttered, unorganized mess. If he didn't do as Megatron told, he'd probably get beaten, and thrown about. And the collar... Megatron had the upper hand as long as the collar was around Ratchet's neck. Ratchet ran his digits over the lock, gritting his denta. It was incredibly degrading. He transformed one servo into a blade, and carefully started cutting at it hopefully, struggling to cut through it. After a few minutes, he stopped, and felt around where he had been cutting, hoping it would have an affect. There were merely a few scratches.

"Ugh..." Ratchet sighed, servo transforming back to normal. The collar wasn't gonna come off for now... he'd best comply to Megatron for the time being, for his wellbeing and survival. Grumbling in defeat, he searched through drawers until he found a duster, and fetched a broom that was sitting in the corner. He went along, dusting, sweeping, and organizing everything, deep in thought, and humming a random tune. He didn't mind cleaning, but for Megatron? Frag, this was rough. It was a few long hours later when he finished, the room now looking incredibly shiny and neat. Part of him wanted to ruin the entire berthroom, just for the satisfaction. But, he didn't want to get his aft beaten half to death.

When he was certainly the entire room was almost perfect, he settled down on the blanket, now bored silly, just sitting there, looking around. He was impressed with his cleaning job, though. Megatron hopefully wouldn't have a reason to harm him. Ratchet had taken one of the datapads and was looking through it with little interest, when the door hissed open and a tall grey warlord stepped in, optics widening as they took in the organization of the berthroom. He stared for a few moments, before gazing down at Ratchet with a satisfied smirk.

"You've done well, my lovely little pet," he strode in and sat down at the desk, still staring at Ratchet with those dark, cruel optics. "Come." He patted his leg. Ratchet grit his denta, and slowly walked over, keeping his gaze averted in agitation. The warlord chuckled and patted his helm. "Such a good pet..."

"Megatron," Ratchet growled in warning as the other mech's clawed servo brushed his cheek. "Don't touch me."

"In the top drawer is a file," Megatron ignored him and pointed to a cabinet. "Bring it here, Pet. Don't keep me waiting." Ratchet huffed, but fetched the small tool quickly, and held it out for Megatron to take. Instead, the warlord put his servo out and looked at him expectantly. "I'm not going to file my own digits," he rolled his optics and muttered arrogantly. "I want my claws sharp as a predacon's denta, Pet. Do a good job, perhaps I'll consider giving you a little energon."

Ratchet stared at him. "I'm not going to preen you, Megatron." He growled.

A sigh escaped Megatron's lips, and with his other servo, he pulled out the small remote, placing his digit over a certain button. Ratchet gasped and took a step back, both servos grasping the collar, knowing exactly what that button would do. Megatron smiled sweetly. "I think you need a little reminder how to behave," he stated.

"No... Megatron, don't... I'll do it..." Ratchet whimpered fearfully, recalling the agony he'd experienced last time Megatron used the remote. It had scared him into submission. "I-I-"

Megatron pressed the button with a roll of his optics; a smile came to his lips as he watched Ratchet scream in agony and collapse to the floor, in a wailing heap, as the collar brutally shocked him. The warlord waited a few moments, enjoying the sight, sitting back with amused optics.

"M-Megat-tron-n..." Ratchet choked out between wails, servos pulling at the collar desperately. "P-Pleas-se..." He curled up, holding his breath, struggling to quiet himself. Megatron sighed, and clicked another button.

"You will behave now," he said firmly, as Ratchet gasped in relief and collected himself somewhat on the floor. "I am more than willing to leave you like that for an entire day. It appears you can barely handle thirty seconds of it, so I don't believe you'd be able to bear it very well."

Ratchet gave a tiny nod, still gripping the collar. Frag, it hurt. Optimus surely felt that over the bond...

"Now, get up!" Megatron kicked him in the side with a small snarl. "I told you to file my digits, didn't I!?" Ratchet slowly hauled himself to his peds, gasping in pain, but somehow managed to limp over, and take the file. He used the tool to file Megatron's claws into a sharper tip without word, ignoring the aching in his entire frame. He definitely wouldn't be able to bear an entire day of that. Megatron watched, satisfied. Ratchet made a good pet, once you show your dominance.

When the medic was finished, he immediately retreated to the blanket and collapsed, immediately curling up. The agony had taken it out of him, and he was already low on energon... proven by the lackluster in his optics. Megatron had noticed, but hadn't cared. He had to shape his pet into perfect place, by whatever means necessary.

Hopefully, Ratchet would be able to bear with it.