you know you are as small as the things you let annoy you {backdated before robot prom}

[asafepairofhands]

It's a little while after Sixshot has dug all of the medics up from whatever underground art bunker they had been briefly trapped in, miraculously without anyone killing each other, and Ratchet is back in the medibay at work. He is still half-legless and especially foul-tempered, especially considering the upcoming festivities, which he plans to avoid as completely as possible.

COME BOTHER HIM



[CLOSED TO RODIMUS]
It's not long after the medics are back that Ratchet sends a message to Rodimus privately, apropos of what seems like nothing.

Come to the medibay. I need to check something.

Comments

[planate]

It's been a while and several near-buried in rocks experiences since Pipes had last been to the medibay, he decides it's time to have a check up. It would have to happen eventually, he might as well minimize the yelling while he can.

He wanders in, assuming he didn't have to call and make an appointment. Seeing Ratchet is good, seeing him missing a leg, not so much.

"Is it, like, a new medic trend to be missing a limb or something?" he states, half wondering who would be stupid enough to try and kill the only medics either present or willing to work on anyone.

[asafepairofhands]

"Hello, Pipes," Ratchet says, only sounding mild-to-moderately annoyed. "Yeah, Tarn started the trend and Pharma apparently picked it right up. Please steer clear of them as much as possible." He carefully does not look at the mangled remains at his leg lying on one of the tables, wires stripped and plating peeled up. His optics narrow, refocusing.

"Everything all right?"

[planate]

"Oh, I-- hadn't even realised Pharma was here. Guess I'm doing something right, then."

He forces an awkward, stilted laugh. Of course, Pipes doesn't know the history between Ratchet and Pharma but he does remember Pharma making that disease that made him really sick. What a jerk.

"Mostly? I think I swallowed a rock. Somehow." By not learning his lesson about not exploring precarious debris. "We really need a giant vacuum or something," he says, not so subtly looking right at The Leg.

[wreckers]

Verity wandered - sticking her nose evenwhere it could hurt was what she did, afterall. Urban exploration of the bare skeleton that looked like it used to be a pretty important Cybertronian city was also a great time killer when the only thing on the airwaves was post-war ancient aliens reduced cat fighting. The clinic was an easy find; the red and white deco seemed literally universal.

"Jesus," Verity stood in the massive doorway, the helmet speakers doing nothing to mask her shock, "Ratchet?"

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet turns, staring right back at the small figure in the doorway, trying to place that voice... His whole face lights like a torch when he does, making him look strangely younger.

"Verity?" he asks, a half-laugh thrumming in his voice as he takes a firmer grip on his crutches and managed a limping step forward, cocking his head. "Is that you? What the hell are you doing here?"

[wreckers]

"Standing on two legs wondering the same thing." Verity chided as she hurriedly released the seal on her helmet and tore it off.

Under that helmet was where the last five years showed the marks they left behind and the physical reminder of how finite humans were. Older with all those baby teeth gone from her brief smile that crinkled her dark eyes wreathed in darker circles. It had...well, it had been a long time without a hello let alone a goodbye between them. A shoddy track record with farewells having been something of a commonality.

"The hell happened to you?" Helmet under her arm, Verity showed herself in with her free hand held up signaling Ratchet to sit his rickety ass back down.

[arnhaid]

Well, someone had come down here to ask about said upcoming festivities. Because hey, he missed the medic. A lot. And he figured Optimus would agree -- agree and be happy to see him too. It stood to reason, therefore, to go in and make sure Ratchet was still functional...

And coerce him into coming out to be social.

Except as soon as he steps inside, there are more pressing concerns. Especially when he sees the other bot working. Working without part of his leg.

Needless to say, the big red bot stomps over, intending to put his arms under his friend's shoulders and pick him up. There's a chair not two feet away he figures will work.

"Siddown."

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet catches Ironhide's forward charge just in time, lifting one of his crutches to press it to Ironhide's chest before Ironhide can grab him.

"I'm fine," he says irritably. "Nice to see you too, Ironhide."

[arnhaid]

Meanwhile, Ironhide looks down at that crutch butting against his chest as if it has, somehow, personally offended him by existing. And maybe it has. He bats at it.

"You've got half a leg and you're tryin' to get me to believe you're fine? That's like --"

He scowls.

"That's my kinda line. Not yours."

[officerjuicebox]

Oh, of course it'd happen. Of course, of all the stupid things, he'd pop a finger out of joint trying to fix a terminal in the building he'd taken up residence in. It was nothing major. Really, Roller just intended to patch it up himself. Borrow a couple tools and be on his way.

But as he steps inside, he's promptly smacked in the face with the sight of another familiar face.

"... Ratchet?"

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet starts, staring a little, his optics widening helplessly.

"Roller," he says, almost numbly, and barely manages to close his teeth on anything else. He has no idea when Roller is from, and it only takes him a second to get his bearings, shifting on his crutches slightly. "It's... been a while."

[rodders]

Yeah, okay. He's suspicious as hell the moment he gets that message. He's been avoiding Ratchet to the best of his abilities since Drift was up and walking; that's no different than how it was on the Lost Light. Why ruin a good thing they've got going?

But he also knows that Ratchet's going to find him whether or not he shows up and the least he can do is show up when he's called for. So cautiously poking his head around the door of the medibay, looking into the dark depths in an attempt to spot Ratchet but also to avoid Megatron. He's cool. He's got this.

"Ratchet?"

[asafepairofhands]

"Hey. Come in here."

Ratchet waits until Rodimus inches into the room and turns away from his workbench, sizing up Rodimus... breastplate?

"Yeah," he says after a moment, turning back and picking something up next to the peeled and stripped remains of his leg. A large chunk of red plating seems to be missing. He holds something the same shade out to Rodimus, leaning into his crutch and watching Rodimus' face--it's an Autobot badge, the metal carefully folded and pressed.

"This looks about the right size. I had to estimate a little. Here."

[triggerhappycopter]

There is a silent whoosh of displaced air and a sudden, vaguely ominous, presence behind Ratchet.

"Is this," a very quiet voice whispers, "your leg?"

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet barely tenses, jerking his chin over to one of the side tables, piled with spare parts. Including what's left of his missing limb.

"That, there? Yeah. Why?"

[academybot]

Some time after the medics had reappeared Optimus came into the medibay with a box of supplies he'd stumbled upon while clearing some debris earlier. Far as he could tell it was basically the main repository of supplies, and if they didn't need them here someone would probably know what to do with them. He could probably have brought them by sooner, but he still wasn't really keen on the idea of a medibay full of decepticons.

He was glad to see someone was there when he showed up, an actual autobot medic judging by the paint job. Though considering he was missing a limb...

"I'm no medibot, but shouldn't you be taking it easy with that injury?" he asked with some concern, standing in the doorway with his package.

[asafepairofhands]

"You're right, you're no medibot," Ratchet mutters before he takes a firmer grip on his crutches and turns, his optics widening a little when he sees Optimus, then the box in his hands.

"I'm fine. Doesn't hurt." His optics narrow a little--the mech in the doorway looks familiar... "Can I help you with something?"

[smallandincharge]

Ultra Magnus stands awkwardly in the entrance to the medibay. She wants to check in with as many of her former crewmates as she can find, and Ratchet was the easiest to locate. But now that she's here, she's not entirely sure what to say. Finally, she simply synthesizes a cough to get Ratchet's attention - which, being a Magnus cough, fills the room with noise and rattles a couple of tools off of their shelves.

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet manages to not jump himself out of his crutches, looking up from the tools he's cleaning and cycling his vents in a sigh before he slowly limps out from behind the desk he was standing at, trying not to look sheepish.

"Magnus," he says, tipping his head. "Good to see you."

[auramatic]

"You don't sleep here, do you?"

Because it kind of looks like you do. Hey, Ratchet, it's your old pal Drift, sticking his head into the medibay to check in and say hi. It's been a little while, Drift likes to keep up. Especially knowing that by Ratchet's time, they're actually friends now.

Something seems to have changed in Drift since they last spoke -- since he and Rodimus first kissed, not so long ago. There's a little more spark in him, animated by warmth and fondness. He glances at Ratchet's leg and frowns slightly before looking back to Ratchet. "If you need help finding someplace to stay, you can just tell me."

[asafepairofhands]

"What's it to you if I do?" Ratchet says, but it's almost amicable sniping, no heat in it at all. "Some of us actually have work to do, you know."

His optics linger on Drift's badge, warming a little before they move to Drift's face.

"What brings you here? Besides unsolicited complaining about my living situation, or lack thereof."

[optout]

Hearing the medics had returned was good news, and of course Optimus was going to check up on his old friend. After all, people disappearing wasn't something to take lightly, and he wasn't about to lose one of his closest friends if he could help it. He wanders in, glad to see that Ratchet is at least keeping with tradition of never leaving the medibay.

Made him easy to find.

"Ratchet."

...really, did you expect any other response.

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet stops sorting through parts and turns, reaching down to take a firmer grip on his crutches so he can come out from behind the desk he's working at, tilting his head.

"Optimus. Everything all right?"

[aminerproblem]

Getting everyone settled and back in their routines had been quite the cacaphony of events once Sixshot had managed to rescue the medics. Spinister was a skilled a surgeon as any, but he had quite the esoteric way of organizing things. Keeping on top of both them and the recent construction not too far away was a handful.

Bottom line, he never got the chance to properly show Ratchet and the others how happy he was to have them back. So now that things had settled back to normal, he had the perfect opportunity.

Sure, perhaps wrapping his arms around the doctor mid-menial task and hugging him tight enough to lift his feet(foot?) off the ground was probably not the best plan. But that apparently didn't stop him.

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet's vocalizer spits a crackling, undignified yelp as his crutches clatter to the floor, single leg flailing briefly before he recognizes the arms holding him and goes passive-aggressively limp instead.

"Megatron," he says, attempting to sound severe and mostly failing. "You're going to send me into spark failure! Warn a mech before you do something like that!" Never mind Ironhide attempted the same thing and got a crutch to the solar plexus. "What the hell's the occasion?"