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]

"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?"

[academybot]

"Sorry." He took the irritated comment in stride. It was actually reassuringly familiar, and Optimus had to a blink a few times in surprise when the medic turned around and the resemblance became even more uncanny.

He holds up the box as an attempted peace offering.

"I found some supplies that might be useful, and thought I'd bring it by here to see if you need anything. I can just put it down somewhere if you're busy."

[asafepairofhands]

"Nah--don't worry about it. I'm just tired of people telling me to sit around, like it's going to magically regrow my leg. I'd rather be busy."

Ratchet jerks his chin at a table between them and stumps over.

"I'm not busy. Set it there and I'll take a look." One corner of his mouth pulls up a little. "And maybe you can tell me your name. I haven't seen you around before."

[academybot]

"I understand the feeling."

He walked over to table, putting down the box and sliding the lid off and setting it next to the box. He moved aside so Ratchet would have plenty of room.

"I got here later than a most people, from what I've gathered. You can call me Optimus."

[asafepairofhands]

"Huh. Thought you looked familiar. You're not the Optimus I know, though, sorry." Ratchet pokes around in the box for a moment before his optics flick up again, curious about Optimus' reaction.

"I'm Ratchet."

[academybot]

"Heh, should've guessed," he said with a small smile, albeit a little wistfully. Having any Ratchet around was fine to be sure, but he would not mind at all if someone he knew would turn up for once.

"I've met him, if he's the other Optimus here. Seems like a nice enough guy." Wow that sounded awkward, but what else are you supposed to say about your alternate self. "Are you two close, or do you just know of him?"

[asafepairofhands]

"We've been friends a long time," Ratchet says, his voice warming further as he sorts almost idly through the box of supplies, then looks back up at Optimus again.

"This stuff is all going to be extremely useful," he says, nodding and looking at Optimus almost curiously. "I appreciate it--thanks. ...what about you and your Ratchet?"

[academybot]

"Glad to hear it." Both that the stuff was useful, and he and Optimus were friends.

"Ratchet?" He paused, thinking about how to answer. "I suppose it hasn't really been that long since he became part of my crew, but I'm glad he did. He's a good friend, I would trust him with anything. Not to mention having someone around with his perspective, his experience in the Great War, I've learned a lot."

[asafepairofhands]

"Well." Ratchet looks almost pleased. "Good to hear. I take it he's a medic, too, huh?" His mouth quirks a little. "Nice to know some things never change."

He continues poking around in the box for a moment, then looks up again. "Were you ever called Orion Pax, if you don't mind my asking?"

[academybot]

"Guess not. Good thing too, this place definitely needs a good medic."

His smile faded at the question.
"No I wasn't, and you're not the first person to ask. Does that mean anything?"

[asafepairofhands]

"Nah, just wondering about the similarities. It was the Optimus I know's name before they saddled him with the matrix and all that 'Prime' garbage. He was a beat cop, beforehand, in Rodion. You two seem... very different."

Ratchet's optics light, his mouth tugging up at one corner.

"You have more of a sense of humor than he does, at least--that much is obvious."

[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 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."

[academybot]

"Look I only got a summary, Optimus was the one who mentioned the thing about spiritual guidance. And if it's all the same to you, I intend on avoiding Sentinel as long as possible." On the list of things he would possibly talk to Sentinel about, being a prime was the very bottom.

"I'm sure that's true, I just don't want everyone assuming I can do everything he can just because we share a name." He said, crossing his arms.