Healing Hands
Title: Healing Hands
Continuity: IDW/AU
Word Count: 1443
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Characters: Perceptor, Ratchet
Notes: Set when the Wreckers arrive to find the rest of the Autobots stranded on Cybertron. (Sorry for the throw back in the comic timeline. I just don't know MTMTE well enough to write in it)
Written for tf_rare_pairing prompt: Perceptor/Ratchet: these hands do more than pull the trigger
Slamming his fist into the wall, Ratchet instantly regretted his action. He staggered back, holding his throbbing hand with the other and cursing under his breath. He felt so helpless. So useless. He'd done all he could with Wheeljack's help to bring their leader back online, and yet he lay there like a giant monolith across the makeshift berth. Frustrated and over-tired, Ratchet heaved a thick sigh of air from his intakes. Wheeljack had wandered off to grab some rest, maybe he should do the same. Let Optimus' autorepair work on what he was unable to repair himself. Ratchet gave Optimus' unmoving frame one last long look, then slipped from his impromptu medbay, and wandered down the hallway, looking for a private space to try and rest. Each room was occupied with his comrades. Some quietly talking, others passed out and getting some much needed recharge.
At the very end of the hall, Ratchet finally found an empty room. He stepped inside and the lighting tried to cycle on, but only one light actually managed to flicker to life. Glancing around, he saw the room was mostly empty. One overturned chair, a few pieces of scrap in the corner, and the dingy floor.
"Good enough," he muttered as he kneeled down and then slid forward to lie down. He rolled to his side and offlined his optics, trying to relax. Thoughts went careening through his mind, though. He kept thinking of different things he could try if Optimus' autorepair failed to repath the fried circuitry. Maybe through donations from the others he could rebuild some of the destroyed systems--
A sudden crashing sound followed by laughter roused him from his thoughts. He rolled to his back, grimacing and ready to yell at the morons down the hallway, when he was he was startled by a figure looming in the doorway.
"Perceptor?"
Ratchet started to sit up, but Perceptor swiftly stepped into the small room and knelt beside him, fingers pressed to his chest.
"Lie back," Perceptor replied.
He complied, too tired to really resist the former scientist's gentle push. "What the frag are you doing?" Ratchet asked, frowning.
"You need to relax," Perceptor replied.
"I was trying to but those bucket-headed idiots are making noise," Ratchet replied as he gestured in the air with one arm.
Perceptor, once upon a time, would have quirked a smile and said something long winded in response, but instead his face remained unreadable and he was mute. Ratchet's anger at the noise faded, replaced by sadness at what the Wreckers had done to his friend. He missed the old Perceptor.
Canting his head, Perceptor's optic and spyglass dimmed. "What is it?" he asked.
"Nothing." Ratchet frowned. "It's just...eh, nevermind."
Perceptor reached around behind himself and unlatched his long rifle from his back. He stood and crossed the small space, stowing the weapon on the floor. Ratchet silently watched as Perceptor gently let his fingers glide over it in an almost reverent manner. He then quickly stood, turned, and manually slid the mostly broken door as closed as he could get it.
"Okay, now what are you doing?" Ratchet asked, confused.
Perceptor glanced at him. "Helping you relax."
Quirking an optic ridge, Ratchet laughed. "I don't think I'm gonna be able to recharge with you and that ridiculous gun of yours in here with me."
"I didn't say 'recharge'." Perceptor gracefully squatted down beside Ratchet, and pressed his hand to Ratchet's glassy chest. "I said 'relax'."
This was now bordering on annoying. Ratchet shifted, sitting back up. "I don't know what the frag you think--"
Perceptor moved in a swift, measured motion, straddling Ratchet's lap. Long black finger tips splayed over his chest plate. Stunned, Ratchet sat there staring with his mouth hanging open as Perceptor slowly let his fingers glide over his chest plate making his intentions more than clear.
After a moment, Ratchet finally gathered his composure enough to grab the wandering hands by the wrists. "What the frag are you doing?"
"You're mind is cluttered with thoughts. Distraction is the best remedy," Perceptor replied coolly.
Ratchet's gaze slid over Perceptor's frame so close to his own. His modifications had changed his body's shape and form. It was sleeker, less boxy than before. Tempting... Still, Ratchet didn't feel like this was right. Deeply frowning, he shook his head. "You came in here to frag? You think that's going to clear my head? What in the name of Primus did the Wrecker crew do to you anyway? Optimus is lying there hovering on the edge of death. You're off shooting monsters instead of helping me and 'Jack! And now... Now you wander in here and offer yourself to me?" He huffed air from his vents in a frustrated hiss.
"I apologize," Perceptor replied, a hint of disappointment flitted across his face then disappeared.
Ratchet shook his head at Perceptor. "Don't be sorry... I just don't understand you. What happened? What did they do to you?"
"Nothing." Perceptor dimmed his optic. "I adapted. Formed myself into someone helpful, instead of a hindrance."
"I could have used your help with repairs," Ratchet replied.
Perceptor flinched at his comment, then pulled his hands from Ratchet's grasp. "It seems I'm of no use to you." He slid off Ratchet's lap, pushing to stand.
"Percy..." Ratchet instantly felt guilty. He didn't mean to hurt his old friend’s feelings.
The gun on the floor was retrieved, and returned to it's place on Perceptor's back.
"Percy. Wait. Stop." Ratchet got up, wavering on his feet from exhaustion. "I'm sorry. I just... miss you. The old you. The one that rambled at length about things me and 'Jack could barely even follow? Remember him?"
Perceptor's stiff posture seemed to soften, as did his one-opticked gaze. "I almost died because of that rambling mech you remember."
Ratchet sadly frowned, remembering Kup mentioning the incident earlier. He really didn't know what to say.
Not waiting for him to come up with some lame reply, Perceptor pulled the broken door back open and stepped out of the small room. Ratchet started to follow, but stopped in the hallway, watching Perceptor move with nothing less than pure grace away from him. It broke his spark to know the war claimed more than their physical lives. It had broken them in ways he'd never imagined. Ways he was at a loss to heal.
…
After some restless rolling around in an attempt at resting, Ratchet finally got up and meandered back to the makeshift medbay. Walking in, he was surprised to see some of the monitors showing vast improvement in Optimus' vital signals. He walked over and inspected some of the circuitry, noticing rerouted pathways. He hadn't done this work, though. The new paths were efficient and helping the autorepair to speed up it's progress.
"Heya, Ratch. So how's the big guy doing?" Wheeljack asked as he walked in carrying a couple cubes of energon.
"The pathways have been rerouted, so he's doing much better. You do it?" Ratchet asked as he took a cube and fixed a line to it, preparing it to feed directly into Optimus' fuel tank.
"No." Wheeljack leaned over the exposed area of circuit panelling. "You kidding? My work isn't that neat. You didn't do it?"
Ratchet paused his fiddling with the line. "No... I didn't." Perceptor? Had he come in here?
"Well, if I didn't and you didn't, then who did?" Wheeljack said, laughing a little. He slapped Ratchet on the shoulder. "I think you're just too tired to remember."
"I know I didn't," Ratchet replied as he finished prepping the line and attached it to Optimus' fuel tank. "I was considering using some replacement circuit sections. I never would have been able to just reroute existing pathways without schematics."
"Huh. Weird." Wheeljack leaned over and closely stared at the fine work. "I'd need schematics, too. The only mech I know that could have done this without them is Percy, and well... you saw him."
Just then, Ratchet saw movement in his peripheral at the doorway. He glanced over just in time to see a flash of red, turquoise and black turn and slip out of sight. Perceptor... No one else could have done this, he thought. It appeared the old Perceptor was still hiding in that new hardshell he was walking around in. Ratchet smiled a little, relieved to know that under that cold gaze the spark of his old friend, that shy, kind scientist, still pulsed. Maybe there was hope for healing after all.
Continuity: IDW/AU
Word Count: 1443
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Characters: Perceptor, Ratchet
Notes: Set when the Wreckers arrive to find the rest of the Autobots stranded on Cybertron. (Sorry for the throw back in the comic timeline. I just don't know MTMTE well enough to write in it)
Written for tf_rare_pairing prompt: Perceptor/Ratchet: these hands do more than pull the trigger
Slamming his fist into the wall, Ratchet instantly regretted his action. He staggered back, holding his throbbing hand with the other and cursing under his breath. He felt so helpless. So useless. He'd done all he could with Wheeljack's help to bring their leader back online, and yet he lay there like a giant monolith across the makeshift berth. Frustrated and over-tired, Ratchet heaved a thick sigh of air from his intakes. Wheeljack had wandered off to grab some rest, maybe he should do the same. Let Optimus' autorepair work on what he was unable to repair himself. Ratchet gave Optimus' unmoving frame one last long look, then slipped from his impromptu medbay, and wandered down the hallway, looking for a private space to try and rest. Each room was occupied with his comrades. Some quietly talking, others passed out and getting some much needed recharge.
At the very end of the hall, Ratchet finally found an empty room. He stepped inside and the lighting tried to cycle on, but only one light actually managed to flicker to life. Glancing around, he saw the room was mostly empty. One overturned chair, a few pieces of scrap in the corner, and the dingy floor.
"Good enough," he muttered as he kneeled down and then slid forward to lie down. He rolled to his side and offlined his optics, trying to relax. Thoughts went careening through his mind, though. He kept thinking of different things he could try if Optimus' autorepair failed to repath the fried circuitry. Maybe through donations from the others he could rebuild some of the destroyed systems--
A sudden crashing sound followed by laughter roused him from his thoughts. He rolled to his back, grimacing and ready to yell at the morons down the hallway, when he was he was startled by a figure looming in the doorway.
"Perceptor?"
Ratchet started to sit up, but Perceptor swiftly stepped into the small room and knelt beside him, fingers pressed to his chest.
"Lie back," Perceptor replied.
He complied, too tired to really resist the former scientist's gentle push. "What the frag are you doing?" Ratchet asked, frowning.
"You need to relax," Perceptor replied.
"I was trying to but those bucket-headed idiots are making noise," Ratchet replied as he gestured in the air with one arm.
Perceptor, once upon a time, would have quirked a smile and said something long winded in response, but instead his face remained unreadable and he was mute. Ratchet's anger at the noise faded, replaced by sadness at what the Wreckers had done to his friend. He missed the old Perceptor.
Canting his head, Perceptor's optic and spyglass dimmed. "What is it?" he asked.
"Nothing." Ratchet frowned. "It's just...eh, nevermind."
Perceptor reached around behind himself and unlatched his long rifle from his back. He stood and crossed the small space, stowing the weapon on the floor. Ratchet silently watched as Perceptor gently let his fingers glide over it in an almost reverent manner. He then quickly stood, turned, and manually slid the mostly broken door as closed as he could get it.
"Okay, now what are you doing?" Ratchet asked, confused.
Perceptor glanced at him. "Helping you relax."
Quirking an optic ridge, Ratchet laughed. "I don't think I'm gonna be able to recharge with you and that ridiculous gun of yours in here with me."
"I didn't say 'recharge'." Perceptor gracefully squatted down beside Ratchet, and pressed his hand to Ratchet's glassy chest. "I said 'relax'."
This was now bordering on annoying. Ratchet shifted, sitting back up. "I don't know what the frag you think--"
Perceptor moved in a swift, measured motion, straddling Ratchet's lap. Long black finger tips splayed over his chest plate. Stunned, Ratchet sat there staring with his mouth hanging open as Perceptor slowly let his fingers glide over his chest plate making his intentions more than clear.
After a moment, Ratchet finally gathered his composure enough to grab the wandering hands by the wrists. "What the frag are you doing?"
"You're mind is cluttered with thoughts. Distraction is the best remedy," Perceptor replied coolly.
Ratchet's gaze slid over Perceptor's frame so close to his own. His modifications had changed his body's shape and form. It was sleeker, less boxy than before. Tempting... Still, Ratchet didn't feel like this was right. Deeply frowning, he shook his head. "You came in here to frag? You think that's going to clear my head? What in the name of Primus did the Wrecker crew do to you anyway? Optimus is lying there hovering on the edge of death. You're off shooting monsters instead of helping me and 'Jack! And now... Now you wander in here and offer yourself to me?" He huffed air from his vents in a frustrated hiss.
"I apologize," Perceptor replied, a hint of disappointment flitted across his face then disappeared.
Ratchet shook his head at Perceptor. "Don't be sorry... I just don't understand you. What happened? What did they do to you?"
"Nothing." Perceptor dimmed his optic. "I adapted. Formed myself into someone helpful, instead of a hindrance."
"I could have used your help with repairs," Ratchet replied.
Perceptor flinched at his comment, then pulled his hands from Ratchet's grasp. "It seems I'm of no use to you." He slid off Ratchet's lap, pushing to stand.
"Percy..." Ratchet instantly felt guilty. He didn't mean to hurt his old friend’s feelings.
The gun on the floor was retrieved, and returned to it's place on Perceptor's back.
"Percy. Wait. Stop." Ratchet got up, wavering on his feet from exhaustion. "I'm sorry. I just... miss you. The old you. The one that rambled at length about things me and 'Jack could barely even follow? Remember him?"
Perceptor's stiff posture seemed to soften, as did his one-opticked gaze. "I almost died because of that rambling mech you remember."
Ratchet sadly frowned, remembering Kup mentioning the incident earlier. He really didn't know what to say.
Not waiting for him to come up with some lame reply, Perceptor pulled the broken door back open and stepped out of the small room. Ratchet started to follow, but stopped in the hallway, watching Perceptor move with nothing less than pure grace away from him. It broke his spark to know the war claimed more than their physical lives. It had broken them in ways he'd never imagined. Ways he was at a loss to heal.
…
After some restless rolling around in an attempt at resting, Ratchet finally got up and meandered back to the makeshift medbay. Walking in, he was surprised to see some of the monitors showing vast improvement in Optimus' vital signals. He walked over and inspected some of the circuitry, noticing rerouted pathways. He hadn't done this work, though. The new paths were efficient and helping the autorepair to speed up it's progress.
"Heya, Ratch. So how's the big guy doing?" Wheeljack asked as he walked in carrying a couple cubes of energon.
"The pathways have been rerouted, so he's doing much better. You do it?" Ratchet asked as he took a cube and fixed a line to it, preparing it to feed directly into Optimus' fuel tank.
"No." Wheeljack leaned over the exposed area of circuit panelling. "You kidding? My work isn't that neat. You didn't do it?"
Ratchet paused his fiddling with the line. "No... I didn't." Perceptor? Had he come in here?
"Well, if I didn't and you didn't, then who did?" Wheeljack said, laughing a little. He slapped Ratchet on the shoulder. "I think you're just too tired to remember."
"I know I didn't," Ratchet replied as he finished prepping the line and attached it to Optimus' fuel tank. "I was considering using some replacement circuit sections. I never would have been able to just reroute existing pathways without schematics."
"Huh. Weird." Wheeljack leaned over and closely stared at the fine work. "I'd need schematics, too. The only mech I know that could have done this without them is Percy, and well... you saw him."
Just then, Ratchet saw movement in his peripheral at the doorway. He glanced over just in time to see a flash of red, turquoise and black turn and slip out of sight. Perceptor... No one else could have done this, he thought. It appeared the old Perceptor was still hiding in that new hardshell he was walking around in. Ratchet smiled a little, relieved to know that under that cold gaze the spark of his old friend, that shy, kind scientist, still pulsed. Maybe there was hope for healing after all.