When the medic just can't deal...
((Hopefully this will stay coherent. Mun is drinking. Whee!))
Ratchet sits in his darkened quarters, having long since returned from his last Nexus trip. Wreck-Gar's run off to talk to Bulkhead about all the sculpture ideas he received from various Nexusites, thus leading the medic in peace for a while. Elbows resting on his knees, he stares at the floor by his feet, still seething a little about his argument with a small red and orange mech they encountered by the sign who implied that they had abandoned Eleven and even Arcee, to an extent. His mood is not helped by the fact that he met Ten soon after, even though his short conversation with her was far more civil than the one with the little Autobot-turned-Decepticon-double-agent.
A knock at the door causes Ratchet to glance up briefly, ridges lowering. "What'd you want?"
"It's Kay, Ratchet," comes the muffled response.
The medic sighs and turns his gaze back to the floor. "Come in if you want. Door's not locked."
The sound of the metal door sliding up follows, the smaller femme entering the room before shutting the barrier in her wake. "Are you alright? You didn't say much when you got back."
He doesn't look up. "You heard everything, didn't you?"
"Well... Yes. I was on monitor duty while you and Wreck-Gar were in the Nexus."
"Then you know what's got my gears grinding. And I don't want to hear about how maybe I should reconsider talking to Arcee!"
Kay frowns, still by the door. "I actually wasn't here to speak to you about that, necessarily, and I can't force you to do what you don't want to do. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. That was quite a debate you had with that other mech."
"'Course I'm not alright!" Ratchet growls back, finally meeting her gaze. "And I suppose you know about Ten, too? Going to tell Prime I broke his new rule?"
"No, actually. To the second question. There was no incident and she approached you first, so I don't think Prime needs to know. I'm honestly not any happier about Optimus' latest decree than you are, Ratchet. It does make sense, but that doesn't make it easy to handle."
"I'm just so...so tired of all of this! And, of course, when it comes to Arcee, I'm somehow the one to blame for that! Never mind the fact that I have been bending over backwards for a good portion of the time I've know her to help her out! She has some kind of mental meltdown I couldn't help her with and instead of her being the one to accept responsibility for her actions, I get snarked at by some arrogant, greenhorn of kid who has abandonment issues. I have to realize Arcee's inability to deal, but does anyone care when old Ratchet has trouble dealing? No, of course not! I oughta just suck it up and let everyone else lean on me! I guess that's just another part of my job, isn't it? And then when I shut off my compassion in an attempt to better cope with all the suffering and death I've seen over the vorns because I'm not allowed to be weak, I get griped at for being grouchy! WHAT THE SLAG!?" Leaning over further, he places both hands on either side of his helm. "I just...I just don't know why I try, anymore. I obviously can't please others and at this point, I can't please myself. I feel old, run down and helpless too much of the time. And I know you've heard all this before, Kay, but I just don't know what else to say. It's just not getting any better."
Communique stands in silence for a moment before approaching Ratchet, placing her hands over his where they rest on his helm. "So much of what's happened isn't your fault... And you should know better than to listen to someone who doesn't know the whole story. That youngster was probably partly angry with you because he couldn't mentally separate you from the Ratchet of his own reality. You have every right to be upset after what's happened with Eleven and Arcee. And you shouldn't feel like it's your job to keep those feelings to yourself."
Straightening back up, Ratchet allows his hands to slip from his head, Kay's sliding off after. "You're right, but it's tough not to listen when someone hits all the wrong buttons at once. I should feel lucky all that yelling didn't affect Wreck-Gar more than it did."
"That kid you tangled with probably needs a good slap upside the head. In the meantime, you're home where you belong and Wreck-Gar's his usual enthusiastic self in Bulkhead's studio area. No harm done, there." She rests her hands on his shoulders, trying to offer a small, reassuring smile.
"Yeah, 'spose not." After a moment, he places his right hand on her left forearm, then simply gets both arms around the female's lower half in a hug he hopes she won't object to. "I'm sorry, Kay."
Allowing him to embrace her, she steps into the hug and pulls her arms around his neck, letting him rest his head on her chest plate. "Sorry for what?"
"For subjecting you to all my ranting. I don't mean to do it and you don't deserve it."
"Everyone needs to vent now and again, and as a communications specialist I think I make a decent listener."
"You do. Thank you." Shuttering his optics, Ratchet leans a little on her, audios able to pick up the steady whirr of Kay's systems as they hum beneath her armor. On impulse, he hugs her a little tighter, comforted by her touch and presence.
One of her hands gently strokes the back of his helm, her voice low when she speaks again. "You're welcome. Everyone here knows you're a great bot, Ratchet. Wreck-Gar and Sari think the world of you, and so do I."
Frustration melting away into tired contentment brought on by Kay's words and touch, Ratchet rumbles quietly in a low purr. The problems haven't changed or gone away, but they're issues that cannot be solved immediately, anyway. For the moment, he allows himself the rare chance to enjoy the company of a good friend he feels he can trust. As memories of a time long past return to him, he finds himself in the place of another Autobot during the war who wanted to bond with Communqiue. Ratchet can't help but wonder how things might be different if he had managed the courage that orbital cycle to say something, to introduce himself... Kay said several nights ago during their conversation on the rooftop that a mech named Codebreaker had wanted more with her and that was probably the same bot Ratchet saw her with so long ago. Even then, the bot in question was younger than Ratchet with a handsome faceplate and a flattering paint job. Ratchet had always been a little wider built and more about function than about appearances. He figured back then he was hardly decent competition against a more dashing male of the species. Communique had been lovely then and she was still attractive now, having been well up kept by the funds and services provided by the private companies and government branches that funded the Revelation's research. Lovelier still were her personality, her talents, her intelligence, her patience... Like everyone else, she had her share of flaws. Every so often, she could be a little overbearing. She could get touchy and uptight about her own field of expertise, occasionally hesitant to see something any way but her own. Some days, it was her way or the highway. But while her stubborn behavior could get a little exasperating, her inability to quit made her loyal as well.
I wish you were mine... The thought is almost painful. Afraid to speak his mind for fear of losing yet another friend should she reject him, Ratchet simply turns his head to press his forehead against her chest plate. "I'm sorry for taking up so much of your time."
"Time with you is always time well spent, Ratchet." Her voice is soft as she rests her chin on the side of his helm, barely resisting the urge to place a kiss there instead. I love you... I just wish I could find the right moment to tell you.
Ratchet sits in his darkened quarters, having long since returned from his last Nexus trip. Wreck-Gar's run off to talk to Bulkhead about all the sculpture ideas he received from various Nexusites, thus leading the medic in peace for a while. Elbows resting on his knees, he stares at the floor by his feet, still seething a little about his argument with a small red and orange mech they encountered by the sign who implied that they had abandoned Eleven and even Arcee, to an extent. His mood is not helped by the fact that he met Ten soon after, even though his short conversation with her was far more civil than the one with the little Autobot-turned-Decepticon-double-agent.
A knock at the door causes Ratchet to glance up briefly, ridges lowering. "What'd you want?"
"It's Kay, Ratchet," comes the muffled response.
The medic sighs and turns his gaze back to the floor. "Come in if you want. Door's not locked."
The sound of the metal door sliding up follows, the smaller femme entering the room before shutting the barrier in her wake. "Are you alright? You didn't say much when you got back."
He doesn't look up. "You heard everything, didn't you?"
"Well... Yes. I was on monitor duty while you and Wreck-Gar were in the Nexus."
"Then you know what's got my gears grinding. And I don't want to hear about how maybe I should reconsider talking to Arcee!"
Kay frowns, still by the door. "I actually wasn't here to speak to you about that, necessarily, and I can't force you to do what you don't want to do. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. That was quite a debate you had with that other mech."
"'Course I'm not alright!" Ratchet growls back, finally meeting her gaze. "And I suppose you know about Ten, too? Going to tell Prime I broke his new rule?"
"No, actually. To the second question. There was no incident and she approached you first, so I don't think Prime needs to know. I'm honestly not any happier about Optimus' latest decree than you are, Ratchet. It does make sense, but that doesn't make it easy to handle."
"I'm just so...so tired of all of this! And, of course, when it comes to Arcee, I'm somehow the one to blame for that! Never mind the fact that I have been bending over backwards for a good portion of the time I've know her to help her out! She has some kind of mental meltdown I couldn't help her with and instead of her being the one to accept responsibility for her actions, I get snarked at by some arrogant, greenhorn of kid who has abandonment issues. I have to realize Arcee's inability to deal, but does anyone care when old Ratchet has trouble dealing? No, of course not! I oughta just suck it up and let everyone else lean on me! I guess that's just another part of my job, isn't it? And then when I shut off my compassion in an attempt to better cope with all the suffering and death I've seen over the vorns because I'm not allowed to be weak, I get griped at for being grouchy! WHAT THE SLAG!?" Leaning over further, he places both hands on either side of his helm. "I just...I just don't know why I try, anymore. I obviously can't please others and at this point, I can't please myself. I feel old, run down and helpless too much of the time. And I know you've heard all this before, Kay, but I just don't know what else to say. It's just not getting any better."
Communique stands in silence for a moment before approaching Ratchet, placing her hands over his where they rest on his helm. "So much of what's happened isn't your fault... And you should know better than to listen to someone who doesn't know the whole story. That youngster was probably partly angry with you because he couldn't mentally separate you from the Ratchet of his own reality. You have every right to be upset after what's happened with Eleven and Arcee. And you shouldn't feel like it's your job to keep those feelings to yourself."
Straightening back up, Ratchet allows his hands to slip from his head, Kay's sliding off after. "You're right, but it's tough not to listen when someone hits all the wrong buttons at once. I should feel lucky all that yelling didn't affect Wreck-Gar more than it did."
"That kid you tangled with probably needs a good slap upside the head. In the meantime, you're home where you belong and Wreck-Gar's his usual enthusiastic self in Bulkhead's studio area. No harm done, there." She rests her hands on his shoulders, trying to offer a small, reassuring smile.
"Yeah, 'spose not." After a moment, he places his right hand on her left forearm, then simply gets both arms around the female's lower half in a hug he hopes she won't object to. "I'm sorry, Kay."
Allowing him to embrace her, she steps into the hug and pulls her arms around his neck, letting him rest his head on her chest plate. "Sorry for what?"
"For subjecting you to all my ranting. I don't mean to do it and you don't deserve it."
"Everyone needs to vent now and again, and as a communications specialist I think I make a decent listener."
"You do. Thank you." Shuttering his optics, Ratchet leans a little on her, audios able to pick up the steady whirr of Kay's systems as they hum beneath her armor. On impulse, he hugs her a little tighter, comforted by her touch and presence.
One of her hands gently strokes the back of his helm, her voice low when she speaks again. "You're welcome. Everyone here knows you're a great bot, Ratchet. Wreck-Gar and Sari think the world of you, and so do I."
Frustration melting away into tired contentment brought on by Kay's words and touch, Ratchet rumbles quietly in a low purr. The problems haven't changed or gone away, but they're issues that cannot be solved immediately, anyway. For the moment, he allows himself the rare chance to enjoy the company of a good friend he feels he can trust. As memories of a time long past return to him, he finds himself in the place of another Autobot during the war who wanted to bond with Communqiue. Ratchet can't help but wonder how things might be different if he had managed the courage that orbital cycle to say something, to introduce himself... Kay said several nights ago during their conversation on the rooftop that a mech named Codebreaker had wanted more with her and that was probably the same bot Ratchet saw her with so long ago. Even then, the bot in question was younger than Ratchet with a handsome faceplate and a flattering paint job. Ratchet had always been a little wider built and more about function than about appearances. He figured back then he was hardly decent competition against a more dashing male of the species. Communique had been lovely then and she was still attractive now, having been well up kept by the funds and services provided by the private companies and government branches that funded the Revelation's research. Lovelier still were her personality, her talents, her intelligence, her patience... Like everyone else, she had her share of flaws. Every so often, she could be a little overbearing. She could get touchy and uptight about her own field of expertise, occasionally hesitant to see something any way but her own. Some days, it was her way or the highway. But while her stubborn behavior could get a little exasperating, her inability to quit made her loyal as well.
I wish you were mine... The thought is almost painful. Afraid to speak his mind for fear of losing yet another friend should she reject him, Ratchet simply turns his head to press his forehead against her chest plate. "I'm sorry for taking up so much of your time."
"Time with you is always time well spent, Ratchet." Her voice is soft as she rests her chin on the side of his helm, barely resisting the urge to place a kiss there instead. I love you... I just wish I could find the right moment to tell you.