#shychangling

"Pharma, let me see your hand."

The doctor gave a dark laugh as he stood with his back to the Decepticon. Currently his hands were submerged in a sink full of hot water, solution daring to bubble over the sides, as he tried to wash off the grime and tar brought on from the previous surgery on the con's transformation cog.

"And what good would looking at my hands do? I've already changed your filthy t-cog out for a new one. Our business is done." Pharma stated simply, keeping his hands under the foam and water as long as he could stand it.

He wasn't foolish...he knew what Tarn was looking for.

"Fine, then show me your mark." Tarn ordered, although the gentle and calm manner in which he spoke belied that. The leader of the Decepticon Justice Division moved off the slab where he'd lain for the surgery, standing up to his full height as he inched closer to the doctor.

Pharma laughed again, scoffing, "My mark? Ridiculous. Looking at it won't do you any good. Besides, I already know who owns its match." In all honesty, he didn't know, but Pharma had made up his mind quite some time ago who did. The idea of a matching mark randomly appearing on your body and deciding who your future conjunx would be sounded like utter drivel, not to mention unscientific besides. Of course, the Matrix worked in mysterious ways and all that nonsense, so Pharma had little choice but to believe when a mark appeared on his own frame. A small shape, looking not unlike a small hand itself, had suddenly manifested on his right palm one day.

Who else could the match belong to but Ratchet? It only made sense. Ratchet was the only bot he cared for after all. The issuance of marks was supposedly random but something had to trigger their appearance. What had triggered his own to appear he wasn't sure, but perhaps that meant Ratchet was nearby or even thinking about him. It seemed the most plausible reason for the mark to appear.

"Well then, if you know, you won't mind humoring me." Tarn knew the doctor was stubborn and a bit headstrong, but he wasn't keen to entertain that at the moment. He had only caught a glimpse of the symbol the medic bore on his hand but he would have sworn it looked familiar. Perhaps it was nothing, perhaps he was mistaken...perhaps Pharma did already know who the match was for his mark. However, it wasn't unheard of for three mechs to have matching marks, sometimes more than that. If they did match, it would certainly explain the recent, odd pull he had felt towards the doctor. They'd met some stellar-cycles ago, but this feeling was new.

At first, Tarn had simply planned to toy with him until he either fought back or broke, but Pharma's sheer willpower had admittedly won him over. He'd held out far longer than any other medic would or could, any warframe for that matter. Tarn was now more interested in getting him to defect than anything else. And of course, if their marks matched, then it only made sense that the doctor join him.

Pharma, looking over his shoulder, shut the faucet off and let the water drain. Drying his hands with a cleaning cloth, Pharma rolled his optics, "Alright, fine. If it'll help you recharge tonight, here." And without a second thought, the doctor turned on his pede and stuck out his right palm. Pharma had no clue what Tarn was up to but he'd learned awhile ago that it was always best to humor, or rather obey, Tarn than to go against him. The latter usually invited the con's powerful voice on his spark -- something he was keen to avoid.

The purple con brought his own right hand up, slowly touching the side of his palm to Pharma's. The marks joined together forming a complete image.

Pharma immediately pulled his hand backwards and held it to his chassis, "No...I...that was merely a trick of the light...."

For a second there, it did almost look like they matched up but...that was ridiculous! His mark was meant to match up with Ratchet's! He just had to get to Ratchet so he could prove it!

"Pharma, it's a match."

"No, it isn't." the doctor hissed, walking past Tarn with his hand still held close to his chassis.

Tarn followed, "Then step outside so we can look together, if that will please you. You and I both know the marks match."

Pharma bit his derma...Primus, this couldn't be happening. After everything Tarn had done to him, to his patients, to Delphi, now the Matrix was still pushing them together? What kind of sick enjoyment did the universe get out of his suffering? Being conjunx to a murderous, psychopathic Decepticon? This had to be a lie or a dream or something!

"But I...I can't...Ratchet..." Pharma whispered more to himself than Tarn as he moved his arm slightly, unfurling his hand slowly to view the mark. The odd symbol appeared to be only surface level, but if one went all the way down to the sentio metallico, the mark would appear there as plain as day. It was impossible to remove and even harder to fake one...this couldn't be real, could it? Even if his mark matched Ratchet's it wouldn't change the fact that Tarn would still be there on the mix.

"Ratchet again? Oh Pharma," Tarn sighed, his tone a mixture of sadness and irritation, "I don't know what's worse -- the fact that you love him even though he'll never care about you, or the fact that I do genuinely love you."

Pharma's optics widened as he clenched his fists and spun around, "Love? You don't know the first thing about love. And don't blame it on the mark! Get out of here right now!"

Tarn could have stayed, could have easily fought back and stood his ground against the doctor's sharp glossa, but decided to take his leave. There would be time to argue later, and in fact, now that they had matched, Pharma would eventually feel the conjunx marking influencing his feelings as well.

It was only a matter of time.

-----

Tarn stopped abruptly as a jolt of pain ran through his spark, the force of it causing him to fall to one knee. He'd never felt a pain like this before...almost like half of his spark had been ripped away from him.

In an instant, he knew. Pharma was dead.

Since their last meeting, he had returned to Delphi to find it empty and lifeless. The outpost walls and doors were spray painted with red X's, and various rusted out corpses that used to be Autobots lined the halls. He didn't touch them; a mere glance was all it took to discern whether the figure was his doctor or not.

After not finding him amongst the bodies, he could only assume the good doctor had escaped. Had he really sacrificed his own facility to save himself? Or had fate merely been cruel to him and dealt him another low blow? Whatever the reason for Pharma's abscondence, Tarn was eager to follow but he'd had little luck in finding the doctor. They still had plenty matters to discuss, the mark amongst them.

But now...Tarn slowly unfurled the claw-like digits of his hand.

His palm was clear. The mark had disappeared.

Tarn clenched his hand, balling it in to a fist. Pharma's death had released him from the fetters of the mark; the pain in his spark would soon pass as well.