thisavrou | [audio]

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[audio]

[Only the audio clicks on, and the voice coming through the MID is worn, thin with static and carefully controlled.]

This is Chief--this is Ratchet, giving notice that the portion of the inorganic clinic I was running is currently closed until further notice, as of... now, apparently somewhere around a year from when I last checked. I'll be resuming my duties as soon as--when it's possible for me to do so.

In the meantime, I'm referring my patients to the regular medbay or to Tony Stark, depending on the complexity of the engineering involved. If it's a serious emergency... I can't help you, but I'll try to consult via MID if absolutely necessary. I am not available to answer five hundred questions about why, so don't bother asking. I need to work. Kindly refrain from calling me unless you're actively leaking to death.

...Ratchet out.

[PRIVATE TO WHIRL]
I need to speak with you in person. I'm sending you my coordinates.

Please.

[Somebody's hands finally stopped working to the point where he actually has to quit using them all the time and attach new ones, and he is not having a good day. Feel free to harass him, but there's no guarantee he'll respond.]

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[Ratchet heaves himself up from his chair and jams the door mechanism with one blocky elbow before he steps back and tucks his hands close in against his chassis again, his face unreadable once Whirl steps inside and the door slides shut behind him. His optics flicker away from Whirl's briefly but settle back, his spinal strut straightening as the lines around his mouth deepen.]

I'm sorry. [His voice is still quiet, but it's very clear.] You were right. There's something wrong and I didn't want to admit it, so I was cruel to you instead. ...not just you, either. [He dims his optics, wishing he could rub a hand over his face, but he shakes his helm after a moment and forges on.] Either way, it was inexcusable, and I apologize.

But I do need your help. And your... expertise, I guess. If you're willing.

[ Whirl is going to open his big metaphorical mouth until Ratchet does it first and surprises him by apologising of all things. Whirl's first instinct is to look over his shoulder to see if Ratchet is talking to someone else because that seems much more likely, his optic wide and bright. When he looks back his helm tilts awkwardly and it's clear that he's both confused and more than just a little unsure, claws clicking absently.]

Uh. Yeah. It's whatever. I stopped worrying about it when I had someone new to be angry at and turns out we've got an entire species to get slagged off at.

[Whirl waves a claw through the air as if to wave off the apology, made strangely uncomfortable by it an unsure what to do with that.

Besides, there's something more worrying.]

Which set 'a expertise are we talking about? Thought you didn't need me to put holes in someone?

[Ratchet shakes his head and grimaces as he reaches into his subspace and draws out a set of long, thin empurata claws the same shade as his barely responsive hands, clutching at them for a moment before he gives up and lets them drop from numb, shaking fingers into a heap on his desk.]

I need assistance attaching these. I'll walk you through it, and help when I can. And I'd like scans of yours--if you could do a spark transplant with them, I'll probably want to look into making some modifications once I have something to work with.

[ It seems to take Whirl a minute to realize what Ratchet's holding and then he freezes, full frame going still like it's taking all of his processing power to understand what even is happening here in the first place.

He's not entirely sure he's capable of purging his tanks, he's never really been able to and has always required some kind of medical assistance or a hole in his plating, but he has the urge to attempt. His optic cycles off, and then back on. Come on.

Whirl's vocalizer is just clicks before he resets it and actually speaks.]

Yeah-uh- you can scan them sure- [Whirl stops, and then starts again because he's having a particularly hard time trying to track through the process of what he's being asked.] How? How did that- Why do you even need me to-

[Whirl sounds much more frazzled than he really means to, optic bright and talking faster than he really needs to.]

They were Glitch's. I gave him hands, while he was here--I had the parts, even if they were a bit of a rush job.

...I'm sorry. [Quietly.] I know that this is--it's not easy. But no one else is steady enough or can manipulate the tools necessary with enough precision for me to ask. And...

[He bites his lip, looking down at the claws for a long moment, then at his hand, shaking even as he just rests it still against the top of his desk.]

I don't think anyone else would understand, even to the point that they might refuse. If you can't help me, at least I'll know it's not because--because you think it's a wrong decision. I have to.

[Ratchet's right, because if he were in a similar place he'd likely make a similar choice. If it's between barely being able to function and being able to work at all...well, he does get it. And that's the really awful part. Whirl uses the edge of his rotor to press against the front of his helm for a moment, while he vents, and the other claw clicks rapidly.

Okay.

Okay.

The worst part is knowing if he leaves, and just decides not to, that there's really no one who can. As much as he wants to go get very very drunk or hide in storage until someone else deals with the problem....that is not exactly in the cards. After venting again, Whirl puts his claws up. His optic is wide, his plating's flared, and it's more than a little obvious that he'd decidedly not very fond of where he is at the moment, but he doesn't make to leave.]

If you start apologizing for this I'm going to put your helm through a wall.

[He does not sound quite right, but he's clearly present and working with whatever is going on in his head, which is at least better than most people hope for with him.]

Let me guess, you want this done 'ASAP', don't you.

[Ratchet just nods, taking the threat in stride, and doesn't apologize again.]

It doesn't have to be right now. But the sooner I can swap them out the faster I'll know if I can work with the empurata limbs, and what modifications I need to make.

It takes a while to stop breaking everything, even if you've got a decent amount of prongs.

[Whirl says, attempting to sound unaffected and picking up one of the claws with his own. They're not terrible. They're closer to his first pair than anything he's used in centuries, but they'll probably be easier than jumping to something like Whirl's immediately. His helm twitches on his neck and then he shakes it off like it was nothing as he flops the claws over in his grasp to make the prongs open. At least there are three points. After a moment, he sort of flops them shut again.....

...then open...

Then shut.

He looks like he's going to go it again, but does actually stop himself.

Then Whirl turns his attention to Ratchet.]

Lets gets this sodding mess over with, yeah?

Please.

[Ratchet hooks an ankle around the leg of another chair and drags it to the desk, flicking on the lights with his elbow, not even bothering with his ruined, useless hands. He sits and lays them flat on the table and just watches them tremble violently for a moment before he cycles his vents in a sigh.]

I'll just tell you what needs to be done.

[Whirl's still standing for the moment, but looks around, claw still in....claw, using it like a pointer.]

Okay, tools? Cause I got some with me, but they're only going to be....kinda useful. I don't know that I'm going to be needing a springbar, you get me?

[Whirl is babbling, don't mind him too much beyond his initial question.

And then, in a manner way too bright:]

Are you sure you don't want me to just rip them off, I mean there is kind of a tradition with this sort of thing......

[Whirl's jokes need some work.]

[Ratchet tips his helm to a container by the edge of the desk.]

That box, there. It's got everything detachable in it. And no, thank you, I'll pass. Fewer repairs to do later that way.

It gives you a pretty strong appreciation for every time you haven't had part of your body ripped off.

[He points with Glitch's claw.]

Just saying.

[Whirl finally sets it down and pulls the box over, and vents as he opens it up and oddly starts prodding them into some sort of order that makes sense to him, and doesn't look like it has much meaning. Maybe size? Or ...use? Either way he's organizing things in a very particular way as he talks.]

You're going to turn down pain receptors, right? Because as much fun as this would be with certain people on the ship......

[Whirl is kind of eyeing him oddly over the tool pile, hoping that he can infer that Whirl doesn't think it sounds like a party to just start unhooking parts on someone he doesn't want dead.]

I think at this point it'd mostly just be a relief. Can't hurt any more than they do now.

[Ratchet's mouth twists and he settles his hands flat on the top of the desk, watching Whirl pick through his tools without comment.]

I'll take care of it. You'll know if you're injuring me.

The ripping probably hurts worse. They used to start with the fingers.

[Whirl says without actually seeming to notice exactly what he said, and he makes a buzzing hum as he holds up a tool.]

You're gonna have to tell me what to start with and where to start cause....I may be good but there's good and then there's I'm pretty sure I could really frag this if I start wrong.

Those are mostly numb by now anyway. Though thankfully nobody is going to have to rip anything off anywhere today.

[He nods down and slides his hands closer to Whirl, so his forearms are in easy reach.]

Vambraces first, so you can see what you're doing. You'll have an easier time than if it was my newer set--they were socket-locked. These aren't. You just have to take the mechanisms apart to detach them.

But I was told that was the fun part!

[Whirl attempts a laugh and really it just sounds like a weird clicking mess and he gives up.]

Let's just take your word for it and literally never try this again.

[Whirl's claw flicks back and the smaller bits begin to fold out. It takes him a moment to pick up the tools and test how well he's able to hold them, but whatever he finds seems to suit him well enough. After a moment of venting and head tilting Whirl seems to decide what angle he's even approaching from, making a low irritating buzz the entire time, because of course his thinking noise has to be roughly the same as being attacked by a hoard of rampant bees.

Whirl does what he's told, using the tools to pry apart bits of plating to get at fixtures and then one set of prongs is able to pull an entire bit of it away to be able to get at the inner workings.

Once he's figured that part out, it takes him a shorter time to manage the other side.]

You know, it's a good thing you're as color coded as you are. Makes it easy to at least see what stuff really doesn't go together.

You have no idea how thrilled I am to hear that I can make dismantling me as convenient for you as possible.

[Ratchet's sarcasm is basically on automatic but there's no heat in it, none of his usual dry bite. He just sounds tired, watching Whirl pick the armor off his forearms impassively before he tilts his head.]

There, a little in past the wrist--start dismantling connections, but leave as long a lead on the wires as possible. We'll need it to hook the new ones back up.

At least you're not old helmet head. Have fun figuring out where the grey connects to the grey on the grey.

[He says this dramatically, but makes no such show of knowing that he's basically a mess of varying shades of blue. Whirl nods to show that he's listening, and his antenna flicks down as he focuses. He's still doing that irritating hum but it seems to be keeping him occupied if nothing else.]

Long aaaaaaas possible. Got it.

[Once he's gotten to the connections it becomes how obvious he's able to use the different parts of his claws independently, one holing a bit of plating, another holding a tool, and a third holding the wire he's working on. It might not be as fluid as someone with hands might accomplish, but he's clearly able to make it work to some degree. Once he's got a wire pulled free entirely he pauses.]

That about right?

[Ratchet watches closely, his own optics sharp, a desperate edge to his interest that eases a little the longer Whirl works. He can work, with the claws--he's not a surgeon, and it shows, but he's steady and slow and capable. Ratchet resists the urge to weep with relief and answers Whirl's question instead.]

Yes. [His voice is quiet, something painfully like hope flaring in his face, brief and flickering.] That's good.

[In his focus, Whirl completely misses the moment Ratchet is having, optic flickering over his work as he keeps track of each of the moving parts and tries to keep from thinking too hard about what exactly he's having to do, nodding again to get his attention across.

It takes him a while to get through the first hand. They're complicated things in the first place, and though Whirl is used to very repetitive intricate work, it's still difficult, especially because he's never done anything quite like it before. Somehow he figures that actually reattaching might be easier because at least he's used to figuring out tensions just based on instinct. It's also different to be trying to carefully dismantle someone as opposed to literally just grabbing on, pulling, and seeing what happened.

...There is a tiny part of him that pops up and wonders why he doesn't just go ahead and do so, but Whirl shoves that back where he usually puts randomly violent thoughts and figures he'll deal with that later. If he really needs to feed the impulse they have Tarn on the ship who will do nicely. There. Easy answer, glitch brain.

Moving on to the second hand took a while, and by the time he was done, Whirl's optic was narrowed and he was continuing to make buzzing sorts of clicks as he checked off each wire in his head. Ratchet would tell him if he missed any of them, and so he kept moving and waited to be told he was doing it wrong instead of stopping to worry about it too much. Stopping to think about things often lead to trouble anyway.]

.....Iiiiiiii think? That's all of those?

[Ratchet stares down at the mangled, detached remains of his hands, wishing stupidly for a medical bay full of dying patients to worry about. It had been so much easier on Delphi--he'd helped Ambulon prep and dismantle one hand as much as he could while First Aid cooked more antidote, and had dismissed Ambulon entirely for the second once the first was in place to have him free to take care of patients while Ratchet stripped and replaced his other hand himself. But it had happened in a flurry of pain and fear, the tang of rust sharp in his throat and the whole of him stretched thin, entirely too aware of the ill around him that needed care, of Drift and Pipes, barely hanging on, of the repairs that would have to be made once the antidote had been administered. It had helped that he had been laboring to attach hands that actually worked.

[This process, having to sit and wait while Whirl works at an excruciating snail's pace to pull away--again--the hands he'd used for five million years to keep as many people he cared about alive as possible, only to replace them with... well. He doesn't begrudge Whirl his slowness, and he's grateful beyond measure to have something to replace the useless, twisted chunks of metal on the ends of his wrists with in the first place, but none of that makes this any easier. Ratchet shoves those thoughts aside and bends every last piece of his will to the task of trying to twitch his fingers. Nothing.]

That's all of them. The hard part of this half's over, it's just the rest of the hardware now. Start with the bolts at the sides of my wrist and work in.

Oh. Good. Cause I kinda wanted to tear my optic out.

[He doesn't really, but it's just the closest he can kinda get to saying that he sort of wants to shoot everything and can't at the moment. Close enough.]

Okay. Bolts.

[As he trades out tools he repeats the word 'bolts' over and over again until he gets back to work. This is where things become a little awkward to watch, because he has to occasionally reset the prongs hold on the tool and that part of things is clearly irritating to him. Rotating motions are a little interesting to replicate.He makes a set of very irritated clicks every time he can't quite get it, but the longer he works he gets into the rhythm of it. It's not at all fast, but at least he's able to unhook them at a speed that doesn't make him want to die inside. As he's worked his wings have slowly settled forward, and as they officially seem to get in his light he glares at them, sets his shoulder back, and continues. ]

I used to be so much better at this 'patience' thing.

[He says this as if it's a very obvious fact, and then proceeds to go back to work.]

Attaching the new ones isn't going to be a party, but you won't have to worry about which connections go where--I'll tell you.

[As he grows more comfortable, he leans back and watches the whole of Whirl rather than just his claws--the restless shift of his plating, the constant noise, the steady speed of his pace as he settles into the work. Ratchet's voice is almost soft when he finally speaks again.]

You're doing fine.

Attaching the new ones will probably make more sense.

[At least that will be kind of like fixing something, and that's what he used to be good at, so he wont have nagging thoughts in the back of his head making it worse. He turns over one claw, pulling back in all of the smaller prongs and turning it sideways in it's well so he can use it to hold the hand in place as he works, because the more detached it is the more it moves and the harder it is for him to work. ]

Yeah, no, I'm fine. I've got this. I'm good. I don't know what I'm doing but that's not really the point, I don't really have to know what I'm doing here to make it work so that's okay. I mean it's not like I'm doing literal surgery or anything, and hey, at least there's not a spark or all of time and cybertron at stake so, this is not the hardest thing I've been stuck having to do lately-

[Whirl breaks off into something kind of like laughing, has officially hit babbling point, so he stops, offlines his optic, vents until that clicking sound starts again, and keeps going.

He's fucntional, give him credit.]

You're right. I'm fine, anything that happens here can be fixed if necessary, and I'm not in a rush. You're doing good work.

[He doesn't reach out and touch Whirl, or try to get him to stop, or otherwise interrupt him--he just speaks in a low, even tone, his optics sharp on Whirl's.]

It's not a race. Take a minute if you want.

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