Fic - Headaches and Heartaches (4/10?)
Wow, has it really been 5 months since I updated this thing? Man... For those of you who remember that far back, rest assured I do plan to finish this, even if I have to pull my own teeth to do so.
Title: Headaches and Heartaches
Chars/Pairings: Sarah Lennox, Ratchet, Ironhide
Genre: Fluff and a little angst in this chapter
Rating: PG
Summary: Several years have passed since the battle at Mission City, and the Lennox family decides to expand by one member. Ironhide is less than thrilled.
IV
"It was curious, doubtless even illogical, that the thought of the coming child should make so much difference. But he granted the difference. He had known despair, but now he knew hope.” - Ish from Earth Abides, by George R. Stewart
Ironhide strode through the doorway of the earth base medical bay. When he didn’t feel Ironhide move anywhere further into the room after a few moments of waiting, Ratchet mentally rolled his eyes and retracted his soldering iron, looking up.
“Yes, you old bolt-bucket? What is it this time?” Ironhide, as usual, did not deign to inform Ratchet of his injuries. Ratchet mentally ticked off another full minute of waiting, before giving up on his work entirely to drag Ironhide into the med-bay.
“Well, the hip seems as good as it can be, and your knees…good…” Ratchet went through his file of problem injuries for Ironhide, but everything was checking out fine. He absent-mindedly continued to jostle Ironhide onto a berth as he scanned his form for other injuries.
“Stop that! I’m not injured!” Ironhide tried, and failed, to shake off the medic’s grip on the armor over his ‘collarbone’.
“Quit fidgeting, hn!” Ratchet did not want to deal with Ironhide’s needless resistance to medical help today. If the mech came to see him, he came to see him!
“Ratch, stop!” Ironhide twisted his upper body away with full force, and managed to dislodge Racthet’s hands, “I didn’t come for a fix-up.”
“Then why the slag did you come, hmm? Love the smell of rusty metal and dried energon in the morning?” Ratchet, after the frustration of yet another fight to fix Ironhide, had little patience now that it turned out Ironhide wasn’t there for repairs after all.
“No, I…” Ironhide trailed off, looking Ratchet in the eye briefly before letting his gaze wander around the room. Ratchet huffed his vents in impatience, completely unconvinced by Ironhide’s statement that everything was fine.
“You’d better tell me what the frag you did this time before I decide to let you suffer with it for another week. Did you decide wrestling near cactuses was a good idea again? Or maybe this time you’ve managed to get another Barbie doll wedged up between your spark chamber and it’s main fuel line?” Ratchet put one hand on his hip and gave Ironhide a glare that combined boredom with disgust.
“You know human medicine, right?” Ironhide spat out. He and Ratchet stared dumbly at one another for a moment before Ratchet collected himself from his brief surprise.
“I’ve learned a suitable amount of emergency care,” Ratchet answered slowly, contemplating. “Primarily for injuries likely to be sustained by our human allies in the event they become inextricably caught up in another battle with the Decepticons: crush injuries, structural and joint damage, shrapnel, burns, concussive force…” At the pained look on Ironhide’s face, Ratchet trailed off, getting flustered again. “While it’s not pleasant to think about harm coming to our friends, that’s my job, Ironhide, so don’t you-”
“Whoa, Ratch.” He held up his hands placatingly. Ratchet took a few moments to spin his fans and cool off. “That type of treatment was not what I wanted to know about.”
“Well, what then?”
“I meant, hm, more like regular maintenance stuff. Virus patches, routine cleaning, the equivalents.” Oh. In all his time on Earth, the idea of looking into regular maintenance procedures on humans had never occurred to him.
“No, I, haven’t looked into that. There’s a human medic in their wing of the base, though, if you’re looking for particular information.” Ratchet made to comm. the woman, but Ironhide shook his head no.
“Will said human medics hadn’t been much help.” Ah, no wonder he was getting curious, if it was over the Lennoxes. Ratchet had also found himself getting fond of the little family unit over the past few years, both through actual interaction and through stories (grumps, he mentally chuckled to himself) from Ironhide.
“What’s the problem? When can he come in for a scan? I can’t be much help without knowing what’s not functioning properly.”
“It’s not the captain.” Ironhide shifted a bit on his pedes, rotating his shoulder joints and cannons. “It’s his mate.” Ratchet watched Ironhide’s face crease into a frown, betraying his worry. “She is…pregnant, and has been suffering from very bad ‘morning sickness’.”
Ratchet took a moment to look up ‘pregnant’ and ‘morning sickness’ on the human’s internet. His spark fluttered when he found the relevant information, and for several moments he didn’t know where to begin. Finally he asked,
“How long has she been pregnant? For that matter, how long has this constant purging of her tanks been an issue? The literature suggests it doesn’t usually appear severely for at least a couple earth months into gestation.”
Ironhide looked away and mumbled something into his armor. Ratchet narrowed his optics in suspicion.
“What was that?” He asked coolly.
“It’s been about 4 months since she became pregnant. This illness has been troubling her for the past 6 weeks or so.” Ratchet did a quick comparison with the information he’d downloaded from the internet. He was not pleased.
“A human under your care is almost halfway through it’s gestation of progeny before you deign to inform me another young one is on the way? Not to mention the length of time you’ve allowed that female to suffer!”
“But Ratch, you just said-” Ironhide piped up, but Ratchet cut him off.
“Just because I do not currently have the expertise does not mean that I cannot acquire it. Besides that, you know that I would enjoy-” helping with the creation of new life he didn’t finish; or maybe more time with your new family unit; or even a more professional learning about a creation process so different from our own, lost to us forever... Instead he paused, huffing, trying to compose himself. He managed instead to turn his hurt into righteous indignation.
“You know that learning as much about the humans as possible is vital to our ability to survive on this planet. Learning about the process through which they create new people is important and under my jurisdiction.” Ratchet drew closer to Ironhide, grabbing his chest armor and shaking him for emphasis, “As Sarah Lennox has security clearance to interact with us, this is a rare opportunity to learn hands on, and we have already wasted precious time.”
Ironhide, leaning far back against the berth, nodded stiffly in acknowledgement.
“Now, I’m going to begin acquiring what I need for a maintenance check for her. You better bring her in as soon as possible, or I’m going to set your fuel tank to purge once for every time hers has, do you understand that?” Again, a stiff nod.
“Good. Now get out of here. If I don’t hear from you on the matter within two days, I’ll be calling the Lennoxes myself!” Ironhide didn’t quite dash out of the medbay, though his quick stride wasn’t too far from one.
Ratchet stood still for a moment in the center of the cavernous Quonset hut, slowly rotating his fans, listening to the echoes of their revolutions bounce off the empty walls. Mentally shaking himself, Ratchet turned back to his workbench in the corner. Examining the components of his little project he sighed, sweeping his arm across the bench and dumping them into a container, adding it to the ‘work in progress’ pile that never seemed to shrink.
##################################
Fortunately, Ironhide did not have to suffer Ratchet’s wrath too strongly this time, as both he and Sarah Lennox appeared in his medbay doorway not three days later.
“Come in, come in.” Ratchet made come hither motions with his hands. “Set Mrs. Lennox down on this table here,” indicating a table equipped with a human sized chair (a lazy-boy confiscated from the soldier’s lounge), as well as a medical cot, a privacy screen, and a bucket.
“It’s very kind of you to take a look at me,” Mrs. Lennox said. “I…know it’s not exactly your specialty. And please, call me Sarah.” Ratchet took in her facial expression, and combining it with body temperature, pulse, and chemical readings deduced it to be a combination of embarrassment, exhaustion, and cautious optimism.
“Nonsense,” he said gruffly.
Ironhide walked over to the table more smoothly than Ratchet had ever before observed, gently allowing Sarah to step off of his cupped hands.
“Would you prefer to lie down or sit? How was your nausea on the ride over?” He began conversationally, all the while watching her behavior.
“I think for now I’ll sit,” she said as she turned and settled into the lazy boy. “Today has been average I would say? I could barely eat anything for breakfast, and as Ironhide could tell you…” She drifted off, coloring. “Well, we had a couple of detours on the way over.” At this she seemed to realize he was still in the room, looking at him a bit dazedly.
“If this old lugs presence makes you uncomfortable, I can kick him out. Ironhide, why don’t-”
She cut him off. “No, it’s all right. I guess I’m just not used to going to the doctor with others, let alone with a giant mech bodyguard. Ironhide, why don’t you make yourself comfortable, though? You don’t have to stand there ‘on guard’ the whole time.” At this she sent Ironhide a rueful, familiar smile.
“I agree.” Ratchet slapped his shoulder armor roughly. “See those stools in the corner? Grab them and come back. We’ll all sit and relax a bit.”
The ‘check-up’ proceeded fairly normally from there, if Sarah’s cooperation and familiarity with his questions was anything to go by. At one point he needed to obtain a blood sample, and though she seemed wary of his large hand, she bravely allowed him to prick her palm with his smallest needle. Ironhide’s internal fuel pressure had skyrocketed so high Ratchet’d been afraid he might blow a gasket, but his seals survived the brief stress.
“Well, I know you’re reluctant to use medication, but I’ve read all the published literature on trials, and I believe at this point it would be more dangerous to continue with the nausea than to take the pills.” Ratchet looked at her sternly. He could gently intimidate his patients as well, when the occasion called for it. But, she took the news well, slowly nodding her head.
“I’d resisted, but you’re probably right.” Then, surprisingly, she smiled brilliantly at him. “It’s actually nice to know you’ve researched it all - you probably understand the risks better than any human doctor. Thank you for going to all the trouble.”
Ratchet shrugged awkwardly, brushing her gratitude off. To say his patients were rarely so blatantly happy to have seen him would be an understatement.
“Now, I’m going to fax a prescription to the human medic on base, who will fill it for you. If you need refills, simply send the Captain down to pick it up. I want you to come back in another three days from now and tell me how the medication is helping or adversely affecting you - if necessary, we’ll change to a different prescription.” Here he turned to Ironhide, pointedly glaring at him.
“Did you receive that? Three days!” Ironhide mimicked a human rolling their eyes, making Sarah chuckle.
“Yeah yeah, Ratch, I heard ya.” Ratchet glared at him for another few moments to emphasize his threat of pain should Ironhide fail in this task, then quickly relaxed and turned back to his patient.
“All right, I’m releasing you. Pick up your medication, and make sure to stop in at the commissary for lunch - as much as you can stomach! - before you leave the base.” Ratchet heard Ironhide stand up behind him (Ratchet really needed to get the sand and other accumulates out of his gears), watching as Sarah gathered herself together and stand up before turning to return one of the stools to the corner of the Quonset hut.
Or, he would have, if Mrs. Lennox hadn’t suddenly let out a distinctly surprised “Oh!”.
Ratchet did an about face, his scanners surging online. “What is it? Are you in pain?”
Sarah was standing very still, staring off into space, with one hand flat against her stomach.
“Sarah?” Ironhide questioned tentatively, body stiff and crackling with energy on high alert.
Nothing in his scans showed any duress, but her strange behavior was worrying Ratchet. As he was about to insist she lie down for a more thorough investigation, she started laughing, and for the second time in one day turned a brilliant smile in his direction.
“I’m - wait,” She paused, again staring off into space, this time with a pleased expression. “I’m quite fine, really. I think the baby just started kicking!”
Ratchet and Ironhide stared at her dumbfounded for a few moments, and she burst out laughing again, apparently at their expressions this time.
“Yes, this is the period when such behavior would be expected,” Ratchet conceded. “Here, sit down and let me feel.”
“Alright.” Sarah sat on the cot this time, pulling up her shirt. “I’d forgotten about this part of being pregnant,” she said jokingly. Ratchet raised an eyebrow at that. “The petting parties,” she clarified. “Though what woman can say she’s had giant robots feel up her tummy?” All this was said with a smile, and Ratchet took that as a sign that she truly didn’t mind.
He carefully placed not the tip of his forefinger but the flat interior, where a human would have their distinctive fingerprint, against the slightly rounded skin of her abdomen. In the quiet that followed, the only sounds to be heard were Sarah’s breathing - both Ratchet and Ironhide had stopped their cooling fans in anticipation. Then, he felt it! A quick flutter, pat pat pat…and a again a moment later. Primus above, thought Ratchet.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Sarah prompted at his expression.
“I have always found new life to be so,” Ratchet replied evenly, “though experiencing it’s first actions in such a manner is a new and enlightening experience,” he conceded.
“Well? Come on over ‘Hide, you can’t let Ratchet here have all the fun.” Sarah waved him over. Ironhide glanced at Ratchet warily. Ratchet jerked his head, shuffling aside to make room. Ironhide reluctantly filled in the gap, and with exaggerated care extended his finger to touch her.
Ratchet watched Sarah carefully for signs of discomfort, resting his hand on Ironhide’s forearm...No need for a surprised Ironhide to jerk into action and accidentally knock her off the cot - while a less likely outcome than a nervous Ironhide perhaps thought, it was Ratchet’s job to be paranoid. However, even after several moments, Ironhide gave no reaction.
“Well?” Sarah asked, still smiling brightly. “Don’t play the stoic soldier - what do you think?”
“I think I want to feel it again.” He replied after a pause. More waiting. Sarah’s face made an interesting expression, but when Ratchet once again sense no change from Ironhide, a considerable feat considering the complexity of his scanners, a new worry blossomed in his processor. Oh no…
When Ironhide noticed her looking up at him expectantly, he seemed at a loss. Ratchet decided to intervene.
“Don’t hold your breath waiting for this bucket of bolts to say anything on it.” He released Ironhide’s arm in favor of ‘friendly’ punching him. Ironhide frowned at this, but Sarah chuckled again, dropping her shirt and getting up again.
“Oh that’s all right. I’m perfectly accustomed to tough guy version of emoting - I did marry a military man!” She looked around once more and brushed herself of imaginary dust. “Come on, big guy, let’s go get that prescription. Then you can drop me off at the canteen - I’m starving!”
##################################
Fifteen minutes later, Ironhide returned to the medbay, sans human accompaniment.
“So you got my message? Good, come here.” Ratchet pulled out a transfer cable from one of his wrists, waiting patiently for Ironhide to approach and open a port.
“I tinkered with the file a bit, should feel fairly natural. Here,” Ratchet brusquely plugged his line into Ironhide’s elbow, transferring over the information as quickly as possible and disconnecting again. Ratchet knew Ironhide disliked hard-line connections, and as another fairly private person couldn’t find himself to disagree with that sentiment.
This time, Ratchet knew immediately when he had opened the sensory recording. His finger jerked mildly backwards in surprise, and he donned an unusually awed expression. And again, a shoulder twitch, as his jaw dropped further in amazement.
“How is it?” Ratchet asked. “Did I tweak the sensory parameter’s properly? I haven’t had a huge amount of experience transferring data to someone with such lower sensory thresholds. I tried to tone down as much noise that my digits would generate compared to yours as possible - of course I can’t adjust it too much or the effect would be what you already experienced.”
“It’s perfect.” He stopped staring off into space, and uncharacteristically reached out to grasp Ratchet’s hand. “Thank you, Ratch’.”
His spark swelling from the whole week of revelations, Ratchet felt as if he barely managed to say “Of course, old friend.”
A/N: Yes, Ratchet definitely took over this section. And turned into a giant capital-W Woobie. It also took awhile to get to what was originally my plan for the chapter - Ratchet sort of co-opted things and I just followed along. I hope the chapter is coherent. If anything's too vague, please comment and I'll see if I can edit it to clarify.
Title: Headaches and Heartaches
Chars/Pairings: Sarah Lennox, Ratchet, Ironhide
Genre: Fluff and a little angst in this chapter
Rating: PG
Summary: Several years have passed since the battle at Mission City, and the Lennox family decides to expand by one member. Ironhide is less than thrilled.
IV
"It was curious, doubtless even illogical, that the thought of the coming child should make so much difference. But he granted the difference. He had known despair, but now he knew hope.” - Ish from Earth Abides, by George R. Stewart
Ironhide strode through the doorway of the earth base medical bay. When he didn’t feel Ironhide move anywhere further into the room after a few moments of waiting, Ratchet mentally rolled his eyes and retracted his soldering iron, looking up.
“Yes, you old bolt-bucket? What is it this time?” Ironhide, as usual, did not deign to inform Ratchet of his injuries. Ratchet mentally ticked off another full minute of waiting, before giving up on his work entirely to drag Ironhide into the med-bay.
“Well, the hip seems as good as it can be, and your knees…good…” Ratchet went through his file of problem injuries for Ironhide, but everything was checking out fine. He absent-mindedly continued to jostle Ironhide onto a berth as he scanned his form for other injuries.
“Stop that! I’m not injured!” Ironhide tried, and failed, to shake off the medic’s grip on the armor over his ‘collarbone’.
“Quit fidgeting, hn!” Ratchet did not want to deal with Ironhide’s needless resistance to medical help today. If the mech came to see him, he came to see him!
“Ratch, stop!” Ironhide twisted his upper body away with full force, and managed to dislodge Racthet’s hands, “I didn’t come for a fix-up.”
“Then why the slag did you come, hmm? Love the smell of rusty metal and dried energon in the morning?” Ratchet, after the frustration of yet another fight to fix Ironhide, had little patience now that it turned out Ironhide wasn’t there for repairs after all.
“No, I…” Ironhide trailed off, looking Ratchet in the eye briefly before letting his gaze wander around the room. Ratchet huffed his vents in impatience, completely unconvinced by Ironhide’s statement that everything was fine.
“You’d better tell me what the frag you did this time before I decide to let you suffer with it for another week. Did you decide wrestling near cactuses was a good idea again? Or maybe this time you’ve managed to get another Barbie doll wedged up between your spark chamber and it’s main fuel line?” Ratchet put one hand on his hip and gave Ironhide a glare that combined boredom with disgust.
“You know human medicine, right?” Ironhide spat out. He and Ratchet stared dumbly at one another for a moment before Ratchet collected himself from his brief surprise.
“I’ve learned a suitable amount of emergency care,” Ratchet answered slowly, contemplating. “Primarily for injuries likely to be sustained by our human allies in the event they become inextricably caught up in another battle with the Decepticons: crush injuries, structural and joint damage, shrapnel, burns, concussive force…” At the pained look on Ironhide’s face, Ratchet trailed off, getting flustered again. “While it’s not pleasant to think about harm coming to our friends, that’s my job, Ironhide, so don’t you-”
“Whoa, Ratch.” He held up his hands placatingly. Ratchet took a few moments to spin his fans and cool off. “That type of treatment was not what I wanted to know about.”
“Well, what then?”
“I meant, hm, more like regular maintenance stuff. Virus patches, routine cleaning, the equivalents.” Oh. In all his time on Earth, the idea of looking into regular maintenance procedures on humans had never occurred to him.
“No, I, haven’t looked into that. There’s a human medic in their wing of the base, though, if you’re looking for particular information.” Ratchet made to comm. the woman, but Ironhide shook his head no.
“Will said human medics hadn’t been much help.” Ah, no wonder he was getting curious, if it was over the Lennoxes. Ratchet had also found himself getting fond of the little family unit over the past few years, both through actual interaction and through stories (grumps, he mentally chuckled to himself) from Ironhide.
“What’s the problem? When can he come in for a scan? I can’t be much help without knowing what’s not functioning properly.”
“It’s not the captain.” Ironhide shifted a bit on his pedes, rotating his shoulder joints and cannons. “It’s his mate.” Ratchet watched Ironhide’s face crease into a frown, betraying his worry. “She is…pregnant, and has been suffering from very bad ‘morning sickness’.”
Ratchet took a moment to look up ‘pregnant’ and ‘morning sickness’ on the human’s internet. His spark fluttered when he found the relevant information, and for several moments he didn’t know where to begin. Finally he asked,
“How long has she been pregnant? For that matter, how long has this constant purging of her tanks been an issue? The literature suggests it doesn’t usually appear severely for at least a couple earth months into gestation.”
Ironhide looked away and mumbled something into his armor. Ratchet narrowed his optics in suspicion.
“What was that?” He asked coolly.
“It’s been about 4 months since she became pregnant. This illness has been troubling her for the past 6 weeks or so.” Ratchet did a quick comparison with the information he’d downloaded from the internet. He was not pleased.
“A human under your care is almost halfway through it’s gestation of progeny before you deign to inform me another young one is on the way? Not to mention the length of time you’ve allowed that female to suffer!”
“But Ratch, you just said-” Ironhide piped up, but Ratchet cut him off.
“Just because I do not currently have the expertise does not mean that I cannot acquire it. Besides that, you know that I would enjoy-” helping with the creation of new life he didn’t finish; or maybe more time with your new family unit; or even a more professional learning about a creation process so different from our own, lost to us forever... Instead he paused, huffing, trying to compose himself. He managed instead to turn his hurt into righteous indignation.
“You know that learning as much about the humans as possible is vital to our ability to survive on this planet. Learning about the process through which they create new people is important and under my jurisdiction.” Ratchet drew closer to Ironhide, grabbing his chest armor and shaking him for emphasis, “As Sarah Lennox has security clearance to interact with us, this is a rare opportunity to learn hands on, and we have already wasted precious time.”
Ironhide, leaning far back against the berth, nodded stiffly in acknowledgement.
“Now, I’m going to begin acquiring what I need for a maintenance check for her. You better bring her in as soon as possible, or I’m going to set your fuel tank to purge once for every time hers has, do you understand that?” Again, a stiff nod.
“Good. Now get out of here. If I don’t hear from you on the matter within two days, I’ll be calling the Lennoxes myself!” Ironhide didn’t quite dash out of the medbay, though his quick stride wasn’t too far from one.
Ratchet stood still for a moment in the center of the cavernous Quonset hut, slowly rotating his fans, listening to the echoes of their revolutions bounce off the empty walls. Mentally shaking himself, Ratchet turned back to his workbench in the corner. Examining the components of his little project he sighed, sweeping his arm across the bench and dumping them into a container, adding it to the ‘work in progress’ pile that never seemed to shrink.
##################################
Fortunately, Ironhide did not have to suffer Ratchet’s wrath too strongly this time, as both he and Sarah Lennox appeared in his medbay doorway not three days later.
“Come in, come in.” Ratchet made come hither motions with his hands. “Set Mrs. Lennox down on this table here,” indicating a table equipped with a human sized chair (a lazy-boy confiscated from the soldier’s lounge), as well as a medical cot, a privacy screen, and a bucket.
“It’s very kind of you to take a look at me,” Mrs. Lennox said. “I…know it’s not exactly your specialty. And please, call me Sarah.” Ratchet took in her facial expression, and combining it with body temperature, pulse, and chemical readings deduced it to be a combination of embarrassment, exhaustion, and cautious optimism.
“Nonsense,” he said gruffly.
Ironhide walked over to the table more smoothly than Ratchet had ever before observed, gently allowing Sarah to step off of his cupped hands.
“Would you prefer to lie down or sit? How was your nausea on the ride over?” He began conversationally, all the while watching her behavior.
“I think for now I’ll sit,” she said as she turned and settled into the lazy boy. “Today has been average I would say? I could barely eat anything for breakfast, and as Ironhide could tell you…” She drifted off, coloring. “Well, we had a couple of detours on the way over.” At this she seemed to realize he was still in the room, looking at him a bit dazedly.
“If this old lugs presence makes you uncomfortable, I can kick him out. Ironhide, why don’t-”
She cut him off. “No, it’s all right. I guess I’m just not used to going to the doctor with others, let alone with a giant mech bodyguard. Ironhide, why don’t you make yourself comfortable, though? You don’t have to stand there ‘on guard’ the whole time.” At this she sent Ironhide a rueful, familiar smile.
“I agree.” Ratchet slapped his shoulder armor roughly. “See those stools in the corner? Grab them and come back. We’ll all sit and relax a bit.”
The ‘check-up’ proceeded fairly normally from there, if Sarah’s cooperation and familiarity with his questions was anything to go by. At one point he needed to obtain a blood sample, and though she seemed wary of his large hand, she bravely allowed him to prick her palm with his smallest needle. Ironhide’s internal fuel pressure had skyrocketed so high Ratchet’d been afraid he might blow a gasket, but his seals survived the brief stress.
“Well, I know you’re reluctant to use medication, but I’ve read all the published literature on trials, and I believe at this point it would be more dangerous to continue with the nausea than to take the pills.” Ratchet looked at her sternly. He could gently intimidate his patients as well, when the occasion called for it. But, she took the news well, slowly nodding her head.
“I’d resisted, but you’re probably right.” Then, surprisingly, she smiled brilliantly at him. “It’s actually nice to know you’ve researched it all - you probably understand the risks better than any human doctor. Thank you for going to all the trouble.”
Ratchet shrugged awkwardly, brushing her gratitude off. To say his patients were rarely so blatantly happy to have seen him would be an understatement.
“Now, I’m going to fax a prescription to the human medic on base, who will fill it for you. If you need refills, simply send the Captain down to pick it up. I want you to come back in another three days from now and tell me how the medication is helping or adversely affecting you - if necessary, we’ll change to a different prescription.” Here he turned to Ironhide, pointedly glaring at him.
“Did you receive that? Three days!” Ironhide mimicked a human rolling their eyes, making Sarah chuckle.
“Yeah yeah, Ratch, I heard ya.” Ratchet glared at him for another few moments to emphasize his threat of pain should Ironhide fail in this task, then quickly relaxed and turned back to his patient.
“All right, I’m releasing you. Pick up your medication, and make sure to stop in at the commissary for lunch - as much as you can stomach! - before you leave the base.” Ratchet heard Ironhide stand up behind him (Ratchet really needed to get the sand and other accumulates out of his gears), watching as Sarah gathered herself together and stand up before turning to return one of the stools to the corner of the Quonset hut.
Or, he would have, if Mrs. Lennox hadn’t suddenly let out a distinctly surprised “Oh!”.
Ratchet did an about face, his scanners surging online. “What is it? Are you in pain?”
Sarah was standing very still, staring off into space, with one hand flat against her stomach.
“Sarah?” Ironhide questioned tentatively, body stiff and crackling with energy on high alert.
Nothing in his scans showed any duress, but her strange behavior was worrying Ratchet. As he was about to insist she lie down for a more thorough investigation, she started laughing, and for the second time in one day turned a brilliant smile in his direction.
“I’m - wait,” She paused, again staring off into space, this time with a pleased expression. “I’m quite fine, really. I think the baby just started kicking!”
Ratchet and Ironhide stared at her dumbfounded for a few moments, and she burst out laughing again, apparently at their expressions this time.
“Yes, this is the period when such behavior would be expected,” Ratchet conceded. “Here, sit down and let me feel.”
“Alright.” Sarah sat on the cot this time, pulling up her shirt. “I’d forgotten about this part of being pregnant,” she said jokingly. Ratchet raised an eyebrow at that. “The petting parties,” she clarified. “Though what woman can say she’s had giant robots feel up her tummy?” All this was said with a smile, and Ratchet took that as a sign that she truly didn’t mind.
He carefully placed not the tip of his forefinger but the flat interior, where a human would have their distinctive fingerprint, against the slightly rounded skin of her abdomen. In the quiet that followed, the only sounds to be heard were Sarah’s breathing - both Ratchet and Ironhide had stopped their cooling fans in anticipation. Then, he felt it! A quick flutter, pat pat pat…and a again a moment later. Primus above, thought Ratchet.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Sarah prompted at his expression.
“I have always found new life to be so,” Ratchet replied evenly, “though experiencing it’s first actions in such a manner is a new and enlightening experience,” he conceded.
“Well? Come on over ‘Hide, you can’t let Ratchet here have all the fun.” Sarah waved him over. Ironhide glanced at Ratchet warily. Ratchet jerked his head, shuffling aside to make room. Ironhide reluctantly filled in the gap, and with exaggerated care extended his finger to touch her.
Ratchet watched Sarah carefully for signs of discomfort, resting his hand on Ironhide’s forearm...No need for a surprised Ironhide to jerk into action and accidentally knock her off the cot - while a less likely outcome than a nervous Ironhide perhaps thought, it was Ratchet’s job to be paranoid. However, even after several moments, Ironhide gave no reaction.
“Well?” Sarah asked, still smiling brightly. “Don’t play the stoic soldier - what do you think?”
“I think I want to feel it again.” He replied after a pause. More waiting. Sarah’s face made an interesting expression, but when Ratchet once again sense no change from Ironhide, a considerable feat considering the complexity of his scanners, a new worry blossomed in his processor. Oh no…
When Ironhide noticed her looking up at him expectantly, he seemed at a loss. Ratchet decided to intervene.
“Don’t hold your breath waiting for this bucket of bolts to say anything on it.” He released Ironhide’s arm in favor of ‘friendly’ punching him. Ironhide frowned at this, but Sarah chuckled again, dropping her shirt and getting up again.
“Oh that’s all right. I’m perfectly accustomed to tough guy version of emoting - I did marry a military man!” She looked around once more and brushed herself of imaginary dust. “Come on, big guy, let’s go get that prescription. Then you can drop me off at the canteen - I’m starving!”
##################################
Fifteen minutes later, Ironhide returned to the medbay, sans human accompaniment.
“So you got my message? Good, come here.” Ratchet pulled out a transfer cable from one of his wrists, waiting patiently for Ironhide to approach and open a port.
“I tinkered with the file a bit, should feel fairly natural. Here,” Ratchet brusquely plugged his line into Ironhide’s elbow, transferring over the information as quickly as possible and disconnecting again. Ratchet knew Ironhide disliked hard-line connections, and as another fairly private person couldn’t find himself to disagree with that sentiment.
This time, Ratchet knew immediately when he had opened the sensory recording. His finger jerked mildly backwards in surprise, and he donned an unusually awed expression. And again, a shoulder twitch, as his jaw dropped further in amazement.
“How is it?” Ratchet asked. “Did I tweak the sensory parameter’s properly? I haven’t had a huge amount of experience transferring data to someone with such lower sensory thresholds. I tried to tone down as much noise that my digits would generate compared to yours as possible - of course I can’t adjust it too much or the effect would be what you already experienced.”
“It’s perfect.” He stopped staring off into space, and uncharacteristically reached out to grasp Ratchet’s hand. “Thank you, Ratch’.”
His spark swelling from the whole week of revelations, Ratchet felt as if he barely managed to say “Of course, old friend.”
A/N: Yes, Ratchet definitely took over this section. And turned into a giant capital-W Woobie. It also took awhile to get to what was originally my plan for the chapter - Ratchet sort of co-opted things and I just followed along. I hope the chapter is coherent. If anything's too vague, please comment and I'll see if I can edit it to clarify.