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

[asafepairofhands]

"...I guess I'm not surprised," Ratchet says slowly. "And this is going to be difficult to explain, but--no. That was Dominus Ambus who created the Ambus test. Minimus Ambus was--is related to him." He looks down at Verity, his expression still.

"But Minimus Ambus is also Ultra Magnus. Or--the latest Ultra Magnus. The 'Ultra Magnus' you know is a suit of armor that people have been wearing since the start of the war, based on the original 'Ultra Magnus'--there really was someone by that name. I knew him. I've known every Ultra Magnus, but Minimus has carried the title the longest. Minimus is certainly the only Ultra Magnus you knew."

Ratchet stops, one shoulder shifting in a half-shrug. "Down to the smallest set of armor, Minimus is a little taller than you are. But please understand--this wasn't Minimus' secret to keep, not really. It was a long legacy, and we only found out because Tyrest stripped the armor by the time we'd got to Luna-1. Nobody would have found out if Minimus--if Magnus had a choice in the matter. If you weren't told, that's why, not because you weren't trusted or because it wasn't important. Magnus didn't even know I knew until after the whole thing had blown over."

He flips a hand palm out, offering, watching her face for a reaction. "I figured you deserved to know, after everything. Now that the secret's out. I know Magnus trusts you and would want you to know, if anyone does."

[smallandincharge]

"Oh! No, yes, I remember Shockwave's defeat. That was what the, uh, 'again' was referring to. This was a... different Decepticon tampering with the fundamental nature of the time-space continuum. Uh -" She pauses, to replay her last sentence back in her head. Then - "Brainstorm. It was Brainstorm."

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet chokes a little, then nods understanding.

"Right. Well, that gets taken care of too, for the record. Everything back to normal. His mouth twists, lips thinning. "Brainstorm doesn't even spend an overabundance of time in the brig. Everyone comes out of it all right, even Megatron."

[triggerhappycopter]

The look Spinister gives Ratchet is a genuinely baffled one.

Not enough materials to fix it properly?

He looks at the junk pile, does a little mental calculation and then looks back at the Autobot CMO again, the look of bafflement increased tenfold. Sure, the end result wasn't going to be factory perfect, but it was better than walking around without half a leg in an uneasy truce.

"So why didn't you install a basic prosthetic at least?"

[smallandincharge]

"Really," Magnus says, raising an eyebrow. "I must admit that I find that rather hard to believe."

[asafepairofhands]

"Look, I'm on my feet all day, every day. If it's not fixed properly, it'll break down. Same with a prosthetic--and a prosthetic won't let be use my alt mode since I'd still be missing a tire. And a prosthetic takes time and more materials and more effort to make, and I'm not convinced it'd be any less awkward than these. I've had to install some field-made ones, I know." Ratchet shrugs, a little helplessly. "I'm managing all right and trying to get equipment up and running so we can actually make parts that are needed. I'd rather wait and do it right. If it seriously impacted my ability to do my job, I'd find another way to fix it."

[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.

[academybot]

"Ah, that explains it then. No overlap there, though. We don't have anything like the Matrix where I'm from."

He glanced down awkwardly, shoulders haunched. Might as well deal with all this up front.

"'Prime' is a just military rank for us, not some sort of spiritual chosen leader. Ultra Magnus has been the supreme commander of the Autobots since the war."

[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?"

[asafepairofhands]

"What, that everybody got out safely, or that you didn't shove Brainstorm in the brig until he rusted?" Ratchet snorts softly. "It was--he had... reasons for doing what he did. Selfless ones, actually. There was a hearing, and he got a slap on the wrist, after it all came out. If you want me to go into excruciating detail I can, I was there, but--" He shakes his head, trying not to look angry.

"Locking him up would have been pointless. And he's cut ties to his Decepticon handler, so that's sorted out too. All wrapped up nice and neat."

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet snorts a rude laugh, not really directed at Optimus.

"If you think the title of Prime for us is some 'spiritual chosen leader', go spend some time with Sentinel--I think he's still here. What a load of rustwash." His optics glitter faintly. "I used to hold Optimus' calls while he was 'communing with the Matrix' by falling asleep sitting up at his desk when he needed a nap."

He takes in Optimus' defeated expression, the curled posture, and shakes his head.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much. Most people don't pay attention to Optimus because he's Prime, or whatever--I mean, it helps, if you're going to command an army that big, I guess." Ratchet shrugs. "But I stayed on with the Autobots because he's a good mech who does his damnedest to do the right thing. That's what's important."

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet leans in, bumping his shoulder lightly against the front of Ironhide's chassis--then draws back like a scalded cat.

"What? I most certainly am not."

[rodders]

Oh. That's probably the nicest thing Rodimus has ever heard Ratchet say about him, mixed in with all the judgement and kicks about his life choices. Rodimus attempts to work his mouth to say something, can't, shuts it. A long pause as he watches Ratchet before opening his mouth again.

"Er. Yes?"

Everything else is too much for him to process, although he thinks basketcase is a bit of a stretch.

[asafepairofhands]

"Rodimus," Ratchet huffs, sounding entirely exasperated. "I'm upset with you. I don't hate you. They aren't automatically the same thing." He rubs hard at his forehelm.

"It was completely unfair, to send Drift away the way you did. Especially since you were partly responsible for--well, for having him on board, if not for... everything else. But I know you know it, and I know you miss him." He rubs at the back of his neck, now, looking away from Rodimus' face. "And the fact that you'd go so far as to give up your badge to make sure Drift has one, even if he doesn't remember everything yet--that means something, all right? You deserve one of your own, as far as I'm concerned."

[rodders]

Rodimus flips the badge over in his hands, focusing on that instead of Ratchet. The guilt lies heavy in him, and he wants to protest that he didn't want to. That he was going to come clean to everyone until Drift told him not to and he'd listened and he didn't protest as his best friend took the fall for him. Not for him. For everyone else. But he doesn't think protesting is what he wants to do. Not really.

"I didn't stop him," his voice is tight and pained, because Rodimus hates thinking about his last private conversation with Drift. "When I announced the investigation I was gonna come clean. But Drift, he said that's why he was there. To be the fall guy." If it's possible to curl in on oneself while standing, Rodimus is doing a damned good job of it. "I told him it was stupid, that he was being stupid. But he insisted and I didn't stop him, Ratchet."

He doesn't like feeling vulnerable, doesn't like the way it sits on him or the way it feels on his face when he looks up at Ratchet. Finally telling it after months of replaying it over and over in his head doesn't make him feel any better either, instead he just looks more miserable.

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet stares at Rodimus for a long moment before he curses softly and looks away, his face set in a scowl.

"That idiot," he mutters, but there's more pain than rancor in his voice and he leans hard on a crutch to press a palm over his face for a moment, scrubbing hard before he drops his hand again.

"Should've guessed," he says. "Of course he's do something stupid like that. He's stubborn--not surprised you couldn't talk him out of it. He tried to face Overlord on his own, y'know, tried to make me lock myself in the medibay before everyone else showed up." He shakes his head, his face twisting, and he has to turn away, his whole chassis aching, throat constricted for a long moment before he shakes it off.

"I'm leaving," he says shortly, his optics on Rodimus' face. "It's the last thing I remember, before I was dumped here, settling in at the shuttle. I talked to some people, turned the title of CMO over to First Aid--I don't think he knows yet, so don't mention it to him please--queued up the signal for Drift's shuttle to track it and was about to take off. He deserves to know he can come home, no matter why he left."

[arnhaid]

"Oh yeah, you are."

One arm slides around Ratchet's shoulders as he draws back, pulling the medic against his side. There's humor in his optics, but also sincerity.

"Prime's goin'. He's gonna need good bots keepin' an optic on him -- you never know what's gonna happen at a party. And..." His other shoulder shrugs. "Not many others around here I'd ask."

If you follow his meaning -- I don't trust many others here like I do you.

"Come. Please."

[triggerhappycopter]

"I dunno about what kind of prosthetics you were making, but I slapped a whole leg out of a dead truck-former's torso once and it lasted five years! Just in time for that supply line red-tape clog-up on Bozick to work itself out," Spinister snorts, flipping another table up right with his foot. "Some bolt bucket up in the ranks misplaced the documents for the whole damn planet, can you believe it? One of the battalion commanders spent whole week slowly pushing a branding iron through his head."

"Anyways," digression aside. "I'm in a mood to con you out of something, so how about a bet?"

[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.

[optout]

There's a small glance at the crutches, glad to see Ratchet's at least keeping up and about, before addressing. "You've been gone for some time--I was just checking in to see if everything's alright with you, actually."

...

"Do you know why you disappeared? Or did you leave voluntarily?"

He won't judge bruh he goes on field trips too.

[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?"

[aminerproblem]

Despite his protests (which Megatron is aware at this point aren't legitimately bothering him), Ratchet gets a surprisingly affectionate(perhaps overly affectionate) squeeze before he's let down. When the hell did he get from this to bashing skulls together?

Nonetheless, he then kneels down to help Ratchet pick up one of the crutches and hand it to him, looking positively elated,"I'm merely glad I was wrong to assume Cybertron had swallowed you up is all."

He takes a step back,"That was quite the detour."

[asafepairofhands]

"Several other medics and I were investigating a distress call and slid through an unstable part of a building into an old underground bunker." There, that sounds much more dignified than 'we all fell in a hole.' "It's why our comm signals were blocked--it was designed as a sort of fallout shelter. We found a lot of art and personal belongings, but nothing that gave us a lot of good information. Everyone's all right. Er. Sixshot found us, eventually."

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet's fans whine slightly in protest as he's compressed, but he only staggers a little as he's set back down, grabbing at his crutches a little indignantly--until he looks up at Megatron's face. The naked, happy relief there makes him stop cold. Its an odd, jolting realization that he cares so much about someone who would go on to make his life a living hell for four million years, but somehow the realization that that someone cares just as much about him is almost worse. He falters for a long moment and all the fight drains out of him, leaving him weirdly subdued.

"Yeah. Bit of the building we were in collapsed and stuck us in some kind of fallout shelter--s'why we couldn't comm anybody." His optics light after a moment, the corners of his mouth pulling up almost despite himself.

"You seem to have done all right in our absence."

[aminerproblem]

Megatron picks up on his fatique and almost smile. He quirks a non-eyebrow, but leaves it at that. He knows better than to push it, whatever it was.

"I should be thanking the volunteers that helped staff the clinic. Spinister left his own base to help, you know."

He rests his hands on his hips,"And your instruction definitely helped."