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...Ratchet, there was another casualty from the battle. Aside from Ravage.

Ravage himself has appeared here through the Ingress. He told me what happens.

Swerve corroborated the story.

[He doesn't say who. Not yet.]

Ratchet, before this...before this I was able to...I convinced myself to look beyond the mutiny. I'm an optimist by nature. I truly thought that...maybe there was a way we'd all survive. That we could all make it through.

Now, there are casualties. And I...I cannot reconcile these feelings...

[Ratchet looks frozen, his expression calcifying slowly as he watches Magnus' face, his optics so pale they're nearly white.]

Who is it. [It isn't even really a question, all the inflection scraped flat from his voice as he feels his tanks roll sickly. Who else did I let die? he doesn't demand, but he feels the words burn up his throat until he swallows hard.] Don't--don't tell me that and then leave me in suspense, Magnus, who is it.

[Magnus continues with trepidation. He heaves a great sigh, his frame audibly creaking, his gears grinding.]

Skids.

It...It was Skids.

He gave his life willingly...to give us all a...an upgrade. That allowed us to survive the onslaught.

One of the best among us subjected himself to life ending trauma...

...Just to give us all a fighting chance.

[His voice bottoms out at that last part, and it comes as barely more than a whisper.]

[Ratchet stares at Magnus like he's just had a heavy weight swung into his face, stunned and stupid, his lips parting as his expression crumples like weak sheet metal around the shape of the blow Magnus has struck. His optics dim for a moment, then gutter out entirely as his shoulders curl in and his head drops, hunching in on himself. He stays like that as long as he dares, a slight shiver rattling down his back, before he forces his optics online again and his spinal strut straight as he looks back up at Magnus. He has no idea what sort of look is on his face.]

I see. [His voice is horribly calm.] Thank you for telling me.

I could have stopped this, Ratchet.

I could have. If I had only been more alert. If I hadn't become so...so lax in my duties. I should have sensed the dissension in the ranks. Heard rumors. Picked up on...on suspicious activity.

Ratchet, I could have prevented this. It was my job to prevent it. But I was having too much...

I...

...I've become sloppy.

[The level of disgust and disappointment in his voice, pointedly aimed at himself, it practically visible.]

Don't.

[Ratchet's face is a mask but his voice flexes over the comm like a blade, his optics burning.]

Of course we knew there was dissension, Optimus went and appointed the leader of the army we'd been fighting for four million years as captain of our--extremely privately owned and not at all officially Autobot and therefore not under his direct jurisdiction, I would like to note--ship, then went haring off Earth to go do... whatever. Of course people were pissed off. If Getaway planned this, that was his job for a good chunk of the war and I have no doubt he did it extremely carefully.

And at any rate, I don't want to hear the portion of whatever stupid sense of blame or responsibility you want to lean on to make this worse--Magnus, I left. [His voice shreds at the edges at that last, ragged with static.] I was angry with Rodimus so I left, and I don't regret bringing Drift back but I could have helped stop this too, and I didn't, because I wasn't even there. So don't talk to me about sloppy, or what any of us could have prevented. At least you stayed.

You had every right to leave, Ratchet. No one would stop you. You had something you alone had to do, and I will not fault you for it. At least when you left, you made sure we were all taken care of.

My entire purpose on the Lost Light was to make sure that things like mutinies didn't happen.

I should have seen the signs, Ratchet. The unrest was plain! I step down as the Duly Enforcer, appoint Fort Max in my stead and then what do I do? I stand by and watch as a mutiny unfolds! And now two sparks are extinguished! Two sparks! All because I couldn't see the writing on the wall for what it was! I was too concerned with...with being Minimus Ambus instead of being Ultra Magnus!

[His tone rises in anger and desperation until it culminates in a bitter accusation leveled directly at no one other than himself.]

You have every right to be Minimus Ambus.

[Ratchet's voice is sharp, and he looks clear and focused, a sharp contrast to the numb shock he'd settled into just after hearing the news about Skids. He draws in a quick vent of air.]

I happen to like Minimus Ambus. He's my friend, and I give a damn about him, even if he is occasionally so arrogant as to assume that something as complex and thoroughly planned as a shipwide mutiny happened 'all because' he was putting a little effort into having a life of his own instead of constantly keeping tabs on literally everything everyone was saying or doing at all times.

I understand that Ultra Magnus is a powerful idea. I knew most of them, I know the value of it. But you're a person, too, not just a figurehead. There are a lot of people on that ship who should have been able to see what was coming, or should have stopped it. You aren't alone there.

I'm going to mourn Skids, too. I'm already mourning Ravage, even though I didn't know him that well. I'm angry, and sad, and stunned, and I hate Tarn more than I have ever hated another person in five million years and I'm not quite sure what to do about it right now, but for goodness' sake Magnus, I don't blame you for this. Whoever's fault it is, it's not yours. Please don't tear yourself up over it, I can't-- [Ratchet's voice stalls out for a moment, sputtering into static as he hesitates, then reaches up and presses the curved knuckle of one claw hard against the front of his lips, his optics flickering.]

I can't hand that on top of everything else. Not when you don't deserve it.

[Magnus falls quiet. He knows what Ratchet is trying to do. He knows that Ratchet is trying to spare him from a possible lifetime of guilt, a lifetime of self-derision; of what-ifs and could haves and should haves.]

[He knows that, if anyone were to care about him--Minimus Ambus and not Ultra Magnus--it would be Ratchet. And it's mainly why he's so thankful that Ratchet is here right now. That he came back in the first place. That he, as always, is the support that everyone needed and was quick with words that had to be heard, whether they were liked or not.]

[Ultra Magnus rarely looked up to people. Let's just keep it at that.]

[But the sad truth of the matter is that Ultra Magnus is dead. And the legacy is left with one, Minimus Ambus. A person who did his damndest to hide who he truly was, not because he was worried of tarnishing a legacy, but because he was and could truly never be satisfied with who he was to begin with. He became Ultra Magnus not just because he sought an ideal, but because it allowed him to be something he could never be. Someone who could finally stand outside of his brother's shadow.]

[A brother who died the death of a literal animal.]

[The only thing at which he thought he was better; pretending to be a legend, and look at the result.]

[Finally, he fixes his gaze on Ratchet, and when he speaks, his voice is hushed, full of a mixture of disdain and a lifetime of regret.]

I'm a person with no purpose, Ratchet. The story of Ultra Magnus dies with me, and what do I have to show for it?

Living my own life has cost two others. You don't know--[His voice catches.]

You don't know how much I wish it were me...instead of Skids. At least then, my death--Ultra Magnus' death--would be fitting. A legend, a hero, giving his life to save the lives of his crew. [In his mind, it wouldn't even matter to him if Minimus Ambus were celebrated or not. All he wants is to give the legend of the mantle he took on something worthy enough to end on.]

[Ratchet stares at Magnus for a long time, struck and a little ill, his tanks rolling. His voice is extremely deliberate when he finally speaks again.]

How dare you? [Quietly.] How dare you tell me that I don't know what it's like to wish that I could give my life up for someone else's when I believe that preventing their death was my professional responsibility. You want to talk to me-- [He raises a claw and levels it at the screen, his expression fierce.] --you want to talk to me, now, about purpose? I've had that stripped from me twice now, Magnus. But it wasn't you who died during the D.J.D.'s assault. And you're right, the purpose you had isn't the same one you have now.

I've told you this before, but apparently you need to hear it again--you are a fine Ultra Magnus, one of the best, and I'm in a position to know. You are one of the best Ultra Magnuses, as far as I'm concerned. Furthermore, you are my friend, and I care about you, and knowing you makes me happy. [He shrugs, visible on the network.]

If you think that on top of all the work you did as Ultra Magnus translates to you having nothing to show for it, then I have no idea what to tell you. Besides that I don't hate you, and I don't blame you, and I'm sorry.

The void that was left when you left was impossible to fill, Ratchet. First Aid...First Aid did wonderfully in your absence, and Velocity...as new as she was...she performed her duties perfectly. If there is anyone that I have ever known that retains their purpose, Ratchet, it's you. Whether you're saving lives physically...or just being there to bring someone back from the brink, your life has purpose...

[He brings a weary hand up to his features and drags his digits down his face; the metal on metal creating a dull scraping sound, like the sound of an old plow being scraped along the floor of an abandoned work shed.]

Ultra Magnus is a hero, a legend, and a figurehead for all that is good about the Autobot cause. He's a beacon. Someone to aspire to.

He's not a...a 'job.' And that is what being Ultra Magnus is becoming, Ratchet. A job. I am finding less of a place for him in peace time. And the last thing I want...the worst disservice I could do to the name, is to let the legend fade into obscurity.

...I'm beginning to think neither he, nor I, have much of a place anymore. This mutiny...these events...if this had been during the war, I would have seen the signs and acted accordingly. But now...I let myself...re...

...Re...

...What was the word?

[Ratchet is quiet for long moments, watching Magnus' face hard over the feed as he sits down and props one elbow on his desk, his curled claws pressing thoughtfully to his mouth, the gesture casual like the ugly sweep of metal at the end of his wrist has always been there.]

You are operating off of several flawed logical assumptions, I think. [His voice is crisp and clear, though the look in his optics is unreadable and a little strange.] The foremost of which is that you are replaceable. Understandable, given the circumstances of the Magnus armor, but that has never been the case for me. You should know that. I've mourned every Ultra Magnus and had to keep it to myself, every time I saw the armor again and I could tell there was someone I'd never met before inside it. And I've always seen you as Ultra Magnus, yes, but I've also always seen you as... yourself. Whatever you've chosen that to mean.

When you were nearly killed by Overlord--before we all ended up on Luna-1--Rodimus found where your ship had gone through to get back to the moon. We had absolutely no idea what was on the other side at that point, and he gathered the whole crew together to let them know we were going through to go find you, over a blind jump, not knowing if you were even still alive at this point. Not a single person objected. [His meets Magnus' optics, his own gaze steady.] No one thinks you are replaceable, Magnus. No one thinks that a the void you would leave if you were gone is fillable.

Sure, Ultra Magnus is a hero and a legend and all those other things, but you aren't the Duly Appointed Enforcer of they Tyrest Accord anymore for some of the same reasons I'm not Chief Medical Officer anymore. We aren't at war anymore. We don't need heroes and legends in exactly the same way we used to. I don't want you to think for a second that you haven't done the title of Ultra Magnus justice, because you have, but that can't be the whole rest of your life, just spending all your time trying to live up to this impossible standard because you think to not do so is a betrayal of the idea of Ultra Magnus, somehow.

I don't like and respect and care about you because you wear the Magnus armor. It's because you're one of the most deeply fundamentally decent people I know, with one of the most unwavering moral compasses and unyielding desire to do what's right, and you don't let any of that interrupt your ability to feel empathy and to care about others. You talk about me being a support, but you're that too. We need you--and I mean you, Minimus Ambus or whatever name you choose to call yourself, because you're someone to look up to no matter what size armor you're wearing. I know what your place is, because it's with us. Rodimus needs you--hell, Megatron needs you. [His mouth quirks at one corner.] I need you. I think I'd already be crazy if you weren't here now.

You've earned the right to relax a little, Magnus. You earned it, not the idea of the armor or the actions of anyone else who wore it but you, through strut-splitting work and the complete refusal to let everything that's happened to us shake who you are. I don't think anyone could have seen the mutiny coming, and I don't think any less of you because it happened. I get that--that this is hard. It is. But I don't blame you, or Rodimus, or Megatron, or anyone else, for that matter. But nothing that's happened since the end of the war, not even this, makes you less important, or expendable, or displaced somehow. You're right where you should be.

[Magnus is silent for a long time. A very long time. He's not really sure what to say to all of that. What can he say? He can feel emotions tug at the corners of his lips, can feel them waver. They turn up, they turn down, they rise and fall like the rolling and writhing his spark has been doing for months. Hearing Ratchet say these things of him...they resonate with him greatly. And not just because Ratchet was his friend. But because he knew Ratchet had known his predecessors in one respect or another.]

[He recalled their last conversation before Ratchet had left the Lost Light to go find Drift. He recalled how Ratchet asked him how he felt. When he had presented the small Minimus figurine that had been left outside his door.]

[How he had perceived that this was how his crew saw him.]

[And how ultimately, it was Ratchet's words that had coaxed him out of his armor. To make more, regular appearances as Minimus Ambus. His coaxing and his encouragement that pushed him out of his very literal shell.]

[Slowly, Magnus brings a hand up to his face, hiding it for a moment while emotions cross his features.]

[Ratchet was right. Of course he was right. But hearing it said so plainly, so bluntly (as was the good doctor's way, and was often the best way) still filled Magnus with a mixture of pride and of remorse. For Ratchet to have buried so many of his friends, friends that he knew he had to let go and uet to have him speak so highly of him, was truly an honor.]

[Finally, he speaks. His voice is quiet. It lacks Magnus' usual confident timbre, and instead carries a tone reminiscent of the one inside the armor.]

No legend can possibly live up to the praise you place on my shoulders, my friend...

For all that you've do...for all that you've done...

I am eternally grateful to have known you.

I am hard-pressed to find anyone else I'd rather ride out a mutiny with.

[Ratchet's optics light and his lips part, a soft, genuine laugh squeezed from him as he shakes his head.]

That's very flattering, Magnus, thanks. Same to you, now that you've decided to be sensible and listen to me. [His optics soften a little, the taut set of his shoulders relaxing just a bit.] I'm glad to know you, too.

Forgive me for losing my senses.

I have not been handling this new information well.

Hey. It's been hard on everybody.

I'm just glad I'm back up and running, for the most part. It was... unnerving, to know that I might not be able to help if something else insane happened.

Are you doing alright without your...?

I mean...are you...?

Erm...

[How does he phrase 'You doin' alright with them claws, friend?']

[Ratchet looks down at his wrists for a moment, the sight of the claws sprouting from the ends of them still unnerving. He cycles his vents and looks up, his face unreadable, and prepares to tell his very good friend a very kind lie.]

I'm fine. [He shrugs a little.] It's not the same, obviously, but I no longer have the luxury of giving up in a fit of selfish nihilistic depression and shoving the job onto somebody else--there is no one else, here. So I'll make do.

Have you considered training someone like you did with First Aid?

Train who, Magnus? I like a lot of the engineers here, and I won't argue that some of them are even brilliant, but they aren't Cybertronian. They don't have millions of years of experience, they don't have access to all the data they need--in part due to the Tyrest Accord, so thanks for that--and while I trust them as far as I can throw them, which is actually a considerable distance given the circumstances, that doesn't mean I'm comfortable turning over my practice to them, even if I retained any particular desire to give up in a fit of selfish nihilistic depression, which I do not.

I want the people here to get the best medical care possible. If I truly thought that meant stepping down and letting Tony Stark take over permanently, I might not like it, but I would do it. It just... hasn't come to that yet, all right?

That's twice in two minutes you've mentioned 'selfish, nihilistic depression.'

There are other Cybertronians on the ship, Ratchet. Cybertronians with little to no focus. Perhaps its time we start teaching, even if it's just rudimentary lessons, to those who could use it.

Truth be told, even I've considered looking into finding someone who could step up, should something happen to me.

Yeah, well, I'm not nihilistic and depressed anymore. Haven't been able to fit it into my schedule.

[He appears to pause, however, and take thought on this.]

I mean--yeah, I'd be willing to teach people, if they wanted to learn. I have no patience for people who aren't interested, but if they are--yeah. I don't see why not.

Three times.

That's my point. Why not find out who is interested? Gauge reactions? I, for one, would be willing to learn.

After all, I have small, precise hands.

[Ratchet politely declines to roll his optics.]

I'd be happy to teach you. Weird as it sounds, Megatron might be interested too. He told me he wanted to be a medic, once, but I'm pretty sure he was going out of his way to annoy me so I'm not sure how much of it was him yanking my chain. [He pauses, looking thoughtful.] ...Whirl too, maybe, if he's not too put off by the whole idea. I'll ask around.

I think we would all benefit from learning a little from you. In more ways than one.

At the very least, it could take some of the strain off of you as well.

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