video;

[asafepairofhands]

[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.

Comments

[asafepairofhands]

There are some alternative treatments that I could try.

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

Open, please.

[knaval]

[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.]

[asafepairofhands]

[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.

[knaval]

[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...

[asafepairofhands]

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.

[knaval]

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.

[asafepairofhands]

[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.

[knaval]

[riptide grunts in a way that it's clear he doesn't entirely believe ratchet, but doesn't say anything.]

Just one more thing. Can you tell me... how to tell them? If something happens-- Sideswipe, at least, will want to know why.

[asafepairofhands]

[Ratchet watches him for a long moment, his tanks rolling briefly.]

No. No, I can't. I'll tell you that, in my experience, there's no good way to tell someone something like that. But that has to be up to you.

[knaval]

There has to be a better way than "hey, Magnus scared me and now the guilt of betraying all my friends is literally killing me!"

[asafepairofhands]

If it's Sideswipe [Ratchet speaks after a long moment, his voice slow and thoughtful.] and it were me, I would tell him that something happened to your spark when Magnus broke the news about the mutiny to weaken it, and all the stress of everything since hasn't allowed it to get better. [He shoots Riptide a level look, his face unreadable.]

But that medical is doing everything they can to find a way to stabilize it, so not to worry too much.

[knaval]

Okay.





...Thanks.

[asafepairofhands]

[Ratchet looks suddenly, unspeakably tired. He's angry, and morning, and he still feels guilty for shouting at Riptide--he wants to apologize, but he's not sure if he should, or even if Riptide would accept it if he did. He swallows hard.]

Of course. [He says this instead.] Any time.

[knaval]

Y...yeah.

[he shuffles awkwardly.]

Um. I'll be going, then. I'm sure you don't really want me to stick around.