This is a narrative I made up while doing the previous drawing. It is NOT canon by any means (yet) and takes place during "Healed."

»«

"This is a pretty cool design. I'm guessing it spells a word?" The tattoo artist spoke while he carefully traced the patterns along her spine. A prosthetic hid the glowing Cybertronian tech which rested on her lower back, and prevented any other, more concerning, questions from arising.

"Yeah, how did you know?" Dana asked with a smile, resisting the urge to look back and grin at him.

"Well, one of the symbols repeat. But I don't know what language this is in," he raised an eyebrow as he gazed at the design, taking it in before he worked on the final symbol, tracing it. He would go back and fill them in, but for right now he just wanted to get the outlines figured out.

"Its a secret," she winked, her chin resting on her arms. "If you're curious to know what it says, however, it's a name."

"Boyfriend?"

She laughed a little, her eyes sparkling softly. "Not entirely. It's actually kind of hard to say, nowadays. Like, we could be, but its an unspoken thing."

"Why haven't you guys said anything yet?" He asked, curious.

She almost shrugged, then remembered there was permanent ink being shot into her back. "Right now there really isn't a need to," she replied. "And, truthfully, I don't even know if he'd want to be in a relationship. He thinks he's too old for me."

The artist raised an eyebrow, but kept his tone impartial. "What's the gap, if I may ask?"

A couple million years, give or take.

"A little wide," she admitted, "probably too wide, honestly. Definitely wider than the '2 year gap' they're always telling us about in sex ed. Apparently, the wider the age gap, the more likely the relationship could become abusive. But, I also go to school in Jasper; you know, the city out in the middle of nowhere?"

"My sister actually lives up there," the artist mentioned, nodding to indicate he understood exactly where she was talking about. "My niece is probably about your age; and from what I've heard, yeah, that sounds like something a little town in Nevada would teach at their schools."

The young woman laughed again, signaling for the artist to pause a moment as she rearranged herself so that she was comfortable.

"So, you and him must be at least kind of close?" He probed a little more.

"Definitely more than just kind of," she clarified. "It's one of those relationships where the next step seems pretty obvious . . . but like I said, he's got at least one worry holding him back."

"Hey, that's usually a good sign," he pointed out, "he cares enough to think about what is best for you."

"True," she mused.

The artist became silent as he moved up her back and began filling in the outlines, double checking to ensure it was all solid black before he began. The needle stung slightly as it pierced her skin and deposited ink there, but she didn't flinch or make any indications that it hurt. She had felt worse pain in the past.

"I'm just going to fill this in and you'll be all set to go," he promised.

She just barely nodded. "Thanks."

»«

Three months ago was her birthday, the day she went into the tattoo parlor and inked Ratchet's name on her back. His spark shard thrummed softly in her back, her hand lightly touching the glass casing on the outside and feeling the little warmth it emitted there.

She figured the others would find it odd that she would get something like his name permanently etched on her back, thus she kept it a little secret from the rest of the world. She was not terribly worried about it, so she made minimal effort to conceal it, but she did not make a big deal about it nor show it off to anyone in particular. Ratchet, certainly, wouldn't know.

At the moment, she was slipping into a specially made jumpsuit that better attuned her body to the Apex Armor and allowed her to consciously manipulate the look of the armor as it formed to her human stature. It required that she stripped all the way down to her undergarments and then slip into the one-piece, and at the moment Chromia was engaging in conversation with her, speaking about what they were going to work on today and what form she should manipulate the armor to take, when the black ink caught the femme's sharp optics.

"What is that?" She asked, initially alarmed that it was some sort of disease; yet she quickly recognized the Autobot dialect, and immediately realized it was a name. She highly doubted any disease could possibly cause "R-A-T-C-H-E-T" to be spelled down the spinal column of a human.

"Oh, it's a tattoo." The human's cheeks turned a light pink color, Chromia able to read a slight increase in temperature under her eyes. "I got it a couple months ago . . . I'm sure you know what it says." She slipped the jumpsuit on, looking a tad embarrassed. It probably looked rather silly to her -

"I do," Chromia watched as it disappeared under the fabric. "I've been considering getting something similar myself; we call them detailings. Or decal's, I suppose is the term you use."

Dana paused in surprise, looking at her. "Really?'

Chromia's faceplates shifted as she smiled. "Yeah. Ironhide had a few . . . during the war. He liked putting them on his arms," the war-hardened femme softened a little as she remembered, "especially on his forearms, where the enemy could see them. They were significant to him, somehow, but he never really shared why."

The human girl nodded, fixing her sleeves, her cheeks still a little red. "What would you get?" She asked.

"If not his name," Chromia smiled a little, "then probably his favorite line. Die, Decepticreeps!"

Dana laughed along with her, the training room echoing with their sounds of joy. "I think that's a really cool idea," the human woman smiled, then frowned a little in thought. "Do you think . . . he would mind? You know, having his name permanently stuck on my spine?"

"I think, more than anything, he would be flattered," Chromia smiled tenderly. "You and Ratchet are very close, anyone with a set of optics can see that. And besides, I think it's very fitting. He gave his shard to you because he cares; and you are, essentially, dedicating that to him."

Dana nodded. "Yeah. I dunno. I got it because, well, he's important to me. But I figured he'd think it was kind of . . . Odd."

Chromosome shrugged, smiling. "Like I said, you're close. I'm sure he won't mind it. Now, ready to train some more?"

»«

Megatron noticed it a few days later, when she stepped out of his vehicle mode to let him transform, the Cybertronian able to see it due to the back being made of lace and see-through material. The black lettering stood out against the pale blue of the shirt and her skin.

"Did you injure yourself in training?" He asked as he transformed to his towering bipedal mode. When she turned and gave him a confused look, he clarified. "Your back; did you injure it? Is it bruised?"

"Oh! Oh no," she smiled, blushing again, "it's a tattoo. Chromia said you guys equate it to detailing?"

"Ah, yes." He looked at her with newfound interest; she didn't seem like the type for permanent markings. "What is it of, may I ask?"

The woman blushed again, slightly cursing herself for being so volatile when it came to these things. What was there to be embarrassed about?

"Its Ratchet's name . . . In the Autobot dialect." She thought about raising her shirt for him to see, but in the back of her mind that just didn't seem like a good idea.

"His name; out of all the things?" He didn't mean to sound rude, just curious.

"It was kind of an impulse," she shrugged, "but it looks cool and I like it."

"I suppose that truly is all the matters," the ex warlord agreed with her, his optics scanning the horizon. "Have you told him?"

"No, not yet," she confessed. "I haven't really . . . It hasn't come up. You an Chromia are the only ones that know. I'm sure Soundwave probably does too; I just haven't directly conversed with him about it."

The mech let out an amused vent. "Don't worry, Soundwave is very capable of keeping things to himself."

"I noticed," she replied, equally amused. Her eyes also gazed around, looking for something. "You remember the coordinates to the relic?"

"But of course," Megatron answered wryly, "Come along, it should be within five hundred feet of us." And with that, he walked off.

»«

When the medic finally noticed, it had been some time, and Dana needed a refuel for her spinal component.

"I need you to take off your shirt, please," the medic spoke, preparing the refueler for her.

"You know, usually, you would be obligated to take me out to dinner first," she joked as she carefully slipped the garment off, sports bra covering everything as necessary.

"I didn't - that's not what I meant!" He stumbled over his words, feeling a tad flustered as she managed to make him lose his typical cool - again.

"I know, Ratchet. It was a joke." She grinned, and turned around for him.

"What is that?" He asked, and she suddenly realized he could see it.

"A tattoo," she replied casually, tugging down the bottom of the back of her undergarment so he could see the rest of it.

"That's . . . My name." He said.

"Yes," she confirmed, suddenly feeling a tad silly. He probably thought she was crazy, or an overly-attached child. She frowned. He wouldn't like-

"It looks nice."

She paused in her thinking, looking at him in bewilderment. "What?"

"I said it looks nice; you did a good job." He repeated, pouring the correct amount of energon into the small device that would help pump new fuel into her system. Her legs were already beginning to feel weak, even hurt a little. A few days from now and it would probably cease functioning altogether.

"Thanks . . ." She decided not to tell him that the artist had done a good job, for the sake of him not freaking out about yet another human being aware of their existence. "You like it?"

"I doubt I would find it nice if I didn't." He scoffed a little at her question, finding the answer to have been obvious. "It actually isn't uncommon for partners to dedicate a part of themselves to the other. I'm sure Chromia has some reminder of Ironhide etched into her armor somewhere."

Dana smiled a little. Now she does. "What about you? Got anything dedicated to me on you somewhere?"

Soundwave could think of one place.

"My spark," he gently nudged her spine with his digit, careful not to jostle her. "The shard within you; it is the same as the one you handled before."

Soundwave, in all his years, had a hard time keeping his mouth shut about that one.

Her lips downturned a little and her brow furrowed, but her eyes were happy and her expression, oddly enough, was positive. "That is so sweet, Ratchet." She smiled. "I didn't think you put much thought into it."

"For you, I did." He smiled.

Just kiss already. Soundwave rolled his optics behind his visor. Get married. Go elope somewhere. Primus, is it not that obvious to either of you?

"Thanks, Ratchet," she hugged his digit whilst they waited for the last drops of energon to make their way into the spinal cable system. "I'm glad you approve."

"You're more than welcome." he carefully dislocated the pump from her once it indicated it was finished. "Take it easy the first five minutes. The new energon needs to cycle through."

Dana nodded and put her shirt back on, pulling up a tablet that was connected to the computer software in the base, searching through the files. "Got any new lessons for me?"

"There should be one under 'anatomy'." Ratchet noted.

Finally. He's giving her a hint -

"Digestion part three? How long does it take for you guys to process energon?"

Soundwave resisted the urge to bang his head on the monitor. For a highly intelligent medic, Ratchet, you are a complete and utter idiot.

»«

Again, none of this is canon, and I hope it was fun to read! The characters may seem OOC, and I apologize. I haven't been able to brush up on my Cybertronians in a while. Thanks for reading!