thisavrou | video;

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[This time when Ratchet starts broadcasting, the video clicks on. He looks a little worn, but there's an underlying stubborn determination there, deepening the lines at the corners of his mouth.]

Ratchet here. Consider the inorganic section of medical officially back in business. That goes for everyone who's even part mechanical, not just Cybertronians--my door is open.

If you are Cybertronian and I haven't seen you for a check, you're due. I'm aware I still can't exactly order any of the Decepticons around ranking medical officer or not, but except for certain individuals who know who they are, you're welcome as well and I recommend it. Who knows what the hell this place is doing to us--I'd appreciate a baseline just in case something does go wrong and I end up having to do something about it.

Anyway, that's it. Ratchet out.

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[Ratchet looks down at him, his own chest aching with conflicting emotion. He knows this isn't Riptide's fault, knows they don't know what happened. He knows that Riptide cared about Skids, even--that they were friends. That Riptide has no idea how he could have betrayed them all to the D.J.D. of all people. That Riptide himself died at Tarn's hands.

[But his friend is still dead, and he's still angry and in pain--partly because he knows that whatever else happened, Skids is dead partly because Ratchet couldn't save him. He blows a shaky hiss of air from his vents, his voice raw and staticky.]

Riptide...

[his jaw sets and he still says nothing. hell, he practically considers locking it.

he doesn't, though and he opens his mouth. as usual, something stupid comes out of it.]

Are you trying to rub it in?

No.

[Ratchet's voice is thin.]

But I know he was your friend. I thought you deserved to know.

You don't know me. [he says, tone taking on an ugly kind of anger.] Of course you want to rub it in.

You... you and Magnus of all people wouldn't screw with me and tell me it's alright, when it's not!

Of course it's not all right.

[Ratchet's voice is ragged with static before he cuts himself off, turning his face away and pressing the back of one claw over his mouth, his ventilations shaky for a moment as he swallows hard.]

Skids is dead. Of course it's not all right. Would you prefer to have no idea? Would you rather not have known at all?

I don't know. I don't care, because how I feel means literally nothing. Less than nothing. Magnus told me I could've stopped it at any time, but I didn't.

[his lip curls in a sneer.]

So don't try and tell me you're telling me because you care.

You don't care.

[Ratchet echoes, his voice numb and his optics wide and pale as he stares down at Riptide, his face utterly unreadable.]

Skids is dead, and you're telling me you don't care whether you know about it or not?

[POURIN THAT PETROL ALL OVER HIS BRIDGES MMM]

No! I don't c-care! None of it matters and you-- can't--!

[so yeah anyway riptide is dumb and cares a lot so he can't even pretend he doesn't care for longer than 5 seconds.]

I see.

[Ratchet just watches him, his tanks rolling and his ventilations shallow and fast as his claws curl in carefully, the closest he can get to clenching a fist.]

[riptide can't calm himself down, knowing he deserves it. skids is dead and he tried to say he didn't care, jesus, what kind of a monster is he??

he barely looks at ratchet. a far cry from how self assured he'd seemed when he first came in.]

Are you going to finish? [he asks, sounding unbelievably exhausted.] Or have you remembered how much you hate me?

I don't hate you, Riptide.

[Ratchet's voice is very quiet as he reaches out and closes delicate claws on Riptide's chin, tilting his face gently and inexorably up to check his optics, then completing the rest of his scans.]

Your spark is low-yield--it looks like it's been degrading steadily for some time. You need to be careful.

Good.

[on some level he already knew. it would be hard not to notice something like that.]

Give me one more good fright and maybe I'll stop being such a fragging inconvenience to you.

[That actually makes Ratchet flinch a little, taking a half-step back and forcing his shoulders not to slump.]

Riptide, I-- [He doesn't even know where to begin, not really.] I didn't--

You didn't what? You said it yourself..

[he throws his hands up.]

Oh, no, I'm sorry! If that happens it'll just be a mess you need to clean up! Well, maybe if I'm lucky Tarn won't be involved!

I didn't mean--

[He goes still, his voice dying in his vocalizer and his optics sliding away helplessly. He looks unspeakably weary.]

Riptide...

Stop.

[he pushes ratchet's claws away from his face.]

Why is is degrading? Am I going to die?

If I had to guess, it's a result of the event you had when Magnus showed up. [He hesitates for a moment, his mouth twisting as he looks like he's trying to decide whether to laugh, cry, or scream before he settles on none of those and continues speaking calmly.] Normally I'd advise someone under your circumstances to avoid stress.

That's hilarious.

[he says, clearly not finding any part of this funny whatsoever.]

So what do I do now? Just wait for it keep going until it goes out?

There are some alternative treatments that I could try.

[He taps one clawtip against the front of Riptide's chassis.]

Open, please.

[riptide says nothing, but bats ratchet's little goblin claw away again before opening his chest compartment.

it's rather unremarkable other than the obvious spark problem.]

[Ratchet flinches visibly as Riptide knocks his hand away before he wrests control of himself, his expression sick and still as he vents shakily but still leans in just enough to inspect Riptide's spark, taking a quick scan. He doesn't dare reach out again.]

All right. Thank you. You can close back up. I'll--I'll see what I can do.

[riptide winces as he watches ratchet flinch, wanting to explain that it's not the claws, it's not anything about ratchet, but he just ends up sitting there with his mouth open like a gormless idiot.]

I-- okay. How long do you... I had something planned...

I don't have the same set of diagnostic tools--

[He closes his mouth on more excuses, his optics pale and flat.]

I'll let you know as soon as I have something.

Okay.

[all riptide has to do is think about magnus and sideswipe for it to clench painfully. he's not surprised the guilt is killing him; he deserves it.]

...Don't tell Magnus or Sideswipe. Please.

[Ratchet's whole chest aches and he fights to keep his shoulders from slumping.]

Been doing patient confidentiality for five million years, Riptide. [He looks away for a moment, his jaw tight.] ...I won't tell them.

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