robothell | (no subject)

Who: First Aid & open
What: post-Tarn drama
When: SHRUG
Where: Autobot Medibay
Warnings: mention of horrible robot gore, hospital setting

First Aid was conscious before he had sight, but the damage to his brain made him too confused to really react much, so eventually he just faded back to unconsciousness. The next time he onlined it was to test his eyes, and he remembers flinching at the light as the freshly built apertures of his optics cycled to pinpoints. Funny, he can't feel his face. That's mildly alarming.

Coherency was a slow build, but by the time First Aid felt fully awake he finally was aware enough of his surroundings to realize where he was, but not entirely how he ended up there. His whole body ached, and he didn't have the strength to lift his hands to his still numb face.

Even after the surgery his frame was sort of a mess of patches of weld marks, not yet fully integrated with his auto-repair to be painted over. His face itself was the worst part, having suffered the most damage, and most of it was a dull gray instead of his usual bright white.

Recharge didn't quite seem too unpleasant, especially when confined to a slab and hooked up to life support and IVs feeding fuel directly into his lines.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Probably about as many as you did when you jumpstarted Fort Max," Ratchet admits, then draws in a shaking vent of air. First Aid would go through the logs anyway, it's not like not telling him things about the surgeries would do any good.

"It was... rough, for a minute. Your spark nearly guttered out completely, just before we got most of the leaks patched and your fluid levels stabilized. I didn't have time for much else, and it didn't knock me on my aft for long." His mouth tilts in a lopsided smile. "Megatron nearly passed out. But it was enough of a boost to keep you going until I was functional again and could finish, and he and Ambulon kept working in the meantime. It turned out all right."

Which is definitely not enough precautions. His jumpstarting Max had been a gamble and had worked. He's been able to refine it since then, acknowledging he had taken a risk that happened to work out in his favor, but he wouldn't recommend those conditions again.

"Shouldn't knock you at all. Stupid. No sense." He's scolding you, Ratchet. He's grateful, but you make him worried, and the best way to channel his worry is to be angry.

"Come here, put your head here--" He manages to lift his hand after a moment, then lays it against his chest. "Listen."

Ratchet stares down at First Aid for a moment before he shifts on his crutches and leans in to lay his head against the half-repaired expanse of First Aid's chest armor. The plating is warm and his dims his optics for a moment, cycling his vents, his face turned away from First Aid's.

"You frightened me," he says quietly, no accusation in his tone, just a simple statement of fact. "We nearly lost you."

You fell for his trap, Ratchet. As soon as his head is settled against his chest, First Aid moves his arms. Ratchet could very well move away easily, but the younger medic curls his arms around his head, 'trapping' it.

"I've got you. This is punishment."

He could, you know, just pull away since First Aid's grip was weaker than rice paper in a storm. Truthfully, he's angry at Ratchet for putting himself in danger. He just never listens to him, even when it's as simple as following the directions he's outlined on a procedure.

"We need you." That was a very suble 'thank you'. "What were you thinking?"

Ratchet shifts under First Aid's shaky grip but he doesn't go far--just turns his head on First Aid's chest so he can look up into the small, masked face higher up on the berth, his own expression still and serious.

"I was thinking we need you too."

First Aid rumbles at that, closing his arms tighter around Ratchet's head. He doesn't want to let him go. This was punishment, remember.

"What if we both died? What then?"

"Then I think Ambulon and Megatron would have necessarily had some very awkward talks about division of responsibilities," Ratchet says, but he's not really being flip--he reaches behind him with a crutch, not lifting his head, and drags a stool over so he can settle down onto it and lean his crutches against the berth, folding his arms next to First Aid's side and letting First Aid keep him right where he is.

"I knew the probability of that happening was low. And I couldn't--I couldn't do nothing." He's silent for a moment before he speaks again, slowly.

"I've already failed Ambulon once--nearly twice, now. I wasn't about to fail you, too. Not like this, not unless I'd done everything I could."

Ambulon. Was that a failure? He'd been so angry, so devastated for so long. He felt that same loss when he watched as the orange DJD mech pressed Trailcutter's brain against the forcefield right in front of his face, killing him.

"You need to follow my advice more."

Thank you for settling, Ratchet. First Aid was content at least that Ratchet had decided to settle down. That was good, at the very least...

"I haven't made a very good CMO here, though."

"I've been told that by a surprising number of people." Maybe not so surprising. Ratchet cycles his vents in a shaky sigh and leans closer to First Aid.

"You're doing fine, kid."

Maybe so. He remembers helping save Thunderclash without ever having left this place. He remembers mentoring Velocity. He remembers leaving, defending Caminus as-- First Aid's body ached to combine. Deep down to his core he's felt wrong, alone.

He wonders if Ambulon feels like this frequently.

Distantly, he remembers the panicked instinct, the reach to try and combine when there were no others to combine with as Tarn twisted his fingers free.

"Have you recharged?"

Unpleasant thoughts had to be chased away.

"You're barely out of the last round of surgery, and the next should start up soon-ish, depending on how long you stay awake. ...I'm all right, kid. I'm not tired." Ratchet wraps a hand around First Aid's shoulder and squeezes gingerly.

"It's just good to hear your voice."

More surgery. First Aid wondered how sore he'll be when he wakes up next. The pain chip should help at the very least. Mostly he just feels bad about putting Ratchet and his colleagues through this. He knows its their job, but operating on friends always made things depressing.

Ratchet's denial of exhaustion gets him a more critical look from First Aid, looking over the scratches and dents over the elder medic's helm and frame.

"Ratchet... You don't look good."

Ratchet catches First Aid's glance and tries not to look caught, clearing his vocalizer of static and drawing in a slow vent of air.

"Yes, well," he says evasively. "I'm all right. Long story--some things happened while you were out. I can fill you in later when you're feeling better, it's all sorted out now."

"Ratchet..."

You're not going anywhere. First Aid has you trapped, Ratchet, in his incredibly weak grip. Concern filters through the exhaustion on his face.

"What happened?"

"Well..."

Ratchet sucks in a deep vent of cool air, then lets it out in a rattling sigh, relaxing again and resigning himself to explanation.

"After Megatron heard what happened to you, he tried to execute Tarn. I... stopped him." He hesitates a little, here, not knowing if First Aid will be angry about that particular fact or not and finding himself surprisingly anxious for First Aid's good opinion, at least when it comes to this. "I'm not sure it was the best thing to do, but... I think it was the right thing. And I didn't want Megatron to have to go through killing someone like that, in any case. ...still."

Ratchet coughs a little, and his optics slide away from First Aid's face now, looking uncomfortable. "A mark in the 'that was a bad idea' column came up pretty quick when Tarn showed up here instead of abiding by the exile Megatron chose instead of killing him and tried to murder all of us. I got between you and Ambulon and him and pissed him off until we got into a fight, and he made some stupid mistakes and left an opening so I sort of uh. Stabbed him in the neck." Ratchet clears his own vocalizer, going from 'uncomfortable' to 'awkward.' "I didn't kill him, and I think some repairs can be made, but his vocalizer will never be the same. I don't think he'll be able to use his voice to hurt people anymore, so at least that's something.

"Anyway, that's mostly it, but Tarn and I rolled around like idiots for a few minutes and he threw me into a wall or two so that's why it's such a mess in here and I've still got some dents. Nothing catastrophic, when all was said and done."