Saturday Night Fic - Still Waters, Chapter 2
Title: Still Waters (2/?)
Characters: Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, First Aid, Ratchet, Ironhide
Universe: Protectobot Beginnings AU
Rating: K+
Word Count: 5000
Warnings: fairly graphic description of injury and recovery
Summary: Sideswipe's adventures in behaving in the medbay.
Sideswipe awoke to the almost comforting feeling of hot rage, pricking through his consciousness. Sunstreaker was NOT HAPPY. Sideswipe turned his helm to meet his brother’s burning blue glare and felt something in his spark ease.
Sunstreaker tugged once, sharply, at the magnetic restraints on his wrists and legs, and Sideswipe thought he could feel the jolt all the way through his own berth. “Let. Me. Up. NOW.”
Sideswipe started to struggle over close enough to reach the closest restraint, but was stopped by a half-sparked thwop to his shoulder.
“You. Don’t move.”
Ratchet moved stiffly around to Sunstreaker’s side and started deactivating the restraints, keeping a prudent distance once Sunstreaker was free. “How are you feeling?”
Sunstreaker growled in reply, and started rubbing at the smears left by the restraints on his scored and soot-streaked arms. “You tied me up.” His baleful glare at Ratchet was deeply betrayed.
“Hmph. Well, sorry about that. We had to take some…precautions.” Sideswipe felt his insides clench again as memory returned. He had killed First Aid and now Ratchet would hate him. This couldn’t be made better by a wrench to the helm, although Sideswipe suspected Ironhide had just been yanking his chain about the rumored accuracy of Ratchet’s throwing arm.
“Ratchet….” Sideswipe made himself meet the medic’s exhausted gaze. “I’m just…I’m so unbelievably sorry. I didn’t mean to…” his voice trailed off at Ratchet’s completely baffled expression. Ratchet stared at him a moment, faceplates furrowed in confusion, and then his optic ridges rose in sudden understanding.
“Sideswipe, this wasn’t your fault,” Ratchet said firmly. “If anything it was mine for not having the proper safety precautions in place.”
“How?” Sideswipe wailed, and Sunstreaker stopped his futile arm polishing to stare at him in astonishment. “How is it not my fault Ratchet? It’s because of me that he’s deactivated and…”
“Wait! Whoa whoa whoa, hold on,” Ratchet waved his hands reassuringly. “Sideswipe, he’s not deactivated.”
Sideswipe, stopped at the beginning of what could only be described as a full-blown meltdown of uncharacteristic self-recrimination, could only gulp helplessly for several moments. Ratchet quirked one optic ridge finally and, with a faint half smile, pointed to the other side of Sideswipe’s berth. Sideswipe leaned over cautiously, long enough to see First Aid still on the floor, still covered with sensors and blinking monitors and tubes and wires, with Ironhide propped up against the wall nearby and dozing in a light recharge.
“He’s not out of danger yet, by any means, but he’s been holding steady for the past half joor.” Ratchet rubbed at his optics wearily. “I haven’t moved him yet. I just…I don’t want to chance it. Now. Sideswipe. Lie back down please and let me check these welds.”
“Will someone tell me what is going on,” Sunstreaker said a little plaintively.
//I nearly deactivated First Aid// Sideswipe told him through their bond.
//Who?// Sunstreaker craned his neck a little, but couldn’t see the injured medic over Sideswipe’s berth.
Sideswipe rolled his optics. Sunstreaker, not so much for remembering names. //You know. The little red-and-white guy. Helps out in the medbay//
//Oh. Him// Sideswipe blinked at the complex mix of emotions that accompanied Sunstreaker’s thought, but his brother buried them away before he could get a good grasp of them.
Ratchet sighed as he began examining Sideswipe’s injuries. His voice was hoarse with static, strangely quiet and gentle as he explained, almost as if he had taken on First Aid’s manner of speaking while the junior medic was offline.
“Sideswipe woke up rather…abruptly…while First Aid was fixing him and, as far as we can tell, managed to knock Aid directly on to the energy spear he’d pulled out of Sideswipe’s leg. Slagging thing hit at precisely the wrong angle, went through his armor like it wasn’t there and skewered him right through the middle.” Ratchet shook his head. “It hit pretty much every vital part it could hit along the way, including his spark chamber. I’ve done all I can for now, but even if…when...he wakes up….” Ratchet paused a moment to look down at the damaged medic on the floor pensively. “First Aid has some previous…injuries that might complicate things.”
//That’s why you’re freaking out?// Sunstreaker sent to his brother.
//I’m not freaking out// Sideswipe retorted.
//Yeah right. And I’m a medic in training// Sunstreaker was watching Ratchet intently, the smudges on his armor apparently forgotten. “He’ll be alright, won’t he, Ratchet?”
Ratchet glanced back up in surprise at the golden twin’s question. Sunstreaker expressing concern for a fellow Autobot? One that wasn’t Sideswipe? Sideswipe was surprised as well, not so much for the concern - more went on in his brother’s processor than anyone not spark-linked with him would ever guess - but that Sunstreaker had thought to ask it out loud.
“We’ll just have to wait and see. It’s up to him now. But it was not in any way, shape, or form your fault, Sideswipe, and I don’t want to hear any more about it.” Ratchet glared threateningly, sounding much more like himself. “It was a freak accident, a one in a million chance, and I’ll be taking steps to make sure that chance never happens again. Got it?”
Sideswipe looked down and nodded. “Well, next time, tie me up or drug me or whatever you have to do. And that goes for the crazy psychopath, too.”
Sunstreaker’s optics flared a cold and dangerous blue, and he scooted over so he could kick his twin repeatedly on his undamaged leg. Sideswipe tried to retaliate by reaching down to grab his brother’s leg, but yelped as the motion strained the fresh welds on his injury. He swatted futilely at Sunstreaker’s just-out-of reach upper half with one arm until Ratchet’s bellowed “Enough!” stopped them both (and every other inhabitant of the medbay) in their places.
The brothers stared with wide optics as Ratchet heaved air through his vents and clenched and unclenched his hands several times. Ironhide clambered up from his spot on the floor with a sleepy groan, and shifted his cannons meaningfully, the motion saying louder than words that he was not in the mood to put up with this slag from them right now.
//No shouting in the medbay, I think Ratchet just broke his own rule// Sunstreaker observed dryly, while Sideswipe struggled to keep from giggling, an act that would no doubt result in Instant Decapitation, either by way of Ratchet’s laser scalpel or Ironhide’s cannons.
“You,” Ratchet said finally, pointing to Sunstreaker, voice clipped and precise, “will leave now. Go wash or polish, or whatever it is you do. Refuel and recharge, in that order. Off duty for the next six cycles, then see me for a recheck. If you notice any electrical glitches contact me or return to the medbay immediately. And you,” he continued, turning to Sideswipe with a hint of a growl, “will lay on this berth without moving or speaking or so help me, I will teach you the true meaning of the phrase ‘to recharge like the dead.’ Am I clear?”
//Don’t let me say it, Sunny// Sideswipe sent as he nodded rapidly. It was dumb, it was stupid, it was annoying and not even remotely clever, and...he was going to say it anyway. “Yes, Ratchet, I can see right through you.” //Oh Pit. I’m going to die now. It’s been nice knowin’ ya, bro//
Ratchet, however, simply stood for a long moment, looking at Sideswipe with complete lack of expression on his face, as if he had forgotten how to move or think.
//I’m outa here// Sunstreaker sent uneasily, as he slid off his berth and edged out the door. //Good luck, fraghead!//
//Go smelt yourself// Sideswipe returned, shifting a little as Ratchet continued his motionless stare, trying to ignore how much colder the medbay felt without Sunstreaker there. Ironhide stepped carefully around First Aid and all of the medical support equipment on the floor, with a quelling frown at Sideswipe, and waved a hand in front of Ratchet’s face.
“Ratchet?” Ironhide said cautiously. “Hey, time for fuel and recharge. I’ll keep an eye on this idiot for awhile.” Ratchet finally looked at Ironhide, air cycling through his vents in a long sigh.
“First Aid’s still too unstable,” he said. “I’m fine.” Sideswipe blinked as it became apparent that Ratchet was just too tired to yell or threaten him anymore. For the first time he noticed that there was dried energon all along Ratchet’s side from where he had been lying in it on the floor, and that the medic was leaning against his berth as if it was the only thing keeping him upright, his optics flickering with exhaustion.
“Ratchet…” he said, ignoring Ironhide’s warning glare, “go ahead and get some rest. I’m sorry. Again. I know you’re worried about First Aid. I’ll behave, I promise.” Sideswipe looked up at Ratchet earnestly, trying to keep nothing but sincere contrition in his expression. It was easier than he expected, probably because he meant it.
Ratchet eyed him suspiciously, and then one optic ridge rose slightly as Ratchet snorted. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
“Here,” Ironhide walked around and patted the empty berth next to First Aid invitingly. “At least lie down for a few moments. You can still keep an eye on him, and I’ll get us both some energon.”
After another check of the other patients in the medbay, and a few adjustments to the monitors hooked up to First Aid, Ratchet at last let himself be coaxed into downing a cube of energon and to lie down “just for a moment” on the recharge berth. He was recharging almost before his helm hit the berth.
Luckily for Ratchet’s continued sanity, Sideswipe’s own injuries kept him from testing his resolve on his promise to behave. The last thing he remembered was fighting the tempting urge to “accidentally” poke Ironhide in the skidplate - it was right there! Right at optic level! And Sideswipe was injured so odds were Ratchet might even protect him. Now that would be worth risking Ironhide’s cannons to see, and Ironhide had put too much work into him and Sunstreaker to actually deactivate them. Sideswipe was pretty sure. But the overheating from his self-repair systems was making him tired, it was too much effort to lift his arm; it was too heavy, so heavy it was sinking…sinking…
When Sideswipe woke up again, wincing at the bright glare of the lights (seriously, whose idea had it been to outfit the Ark medbay with the light of a thousand supernovas?) and the dull ache in his leg, Ratchet was gone from the neighboring berth and First Aid had been moved there in his place, which Sideswipe took as a good sign. The medic still looked like slag warmed over, though. His face mask was retracted, strange to see - Sideswipe had never seen his face without it, or the sturdy visor that still covered his optics. It was a pleasant face; nothing fancy or optic-catching like Sunstreaker’s, but nice enough to look at. A little trickle of dried energon still remained where it had leaked from one corner of his mouth. Despite what Ratchet had said, Sideswipe still felt an uncomfortable twinge of guilt at the sight of the motionless junior medic. Or not so motionless. Sideswipe sat up to look more closely as First Aid stirred slightly.
“Ratchet? Hey Ratchet…Ironhide?” Sideswipe called, wondering where they both were. He didn’t think they would have left First Aid’s side. He was about to try the comm. when a faint sound attracted his attention, and he looked down to see Ratchet and Ironhide sitting on the floor next to his berth, both in recharge. Ratchet had his head tilted back against the side of the berth, mouth slightly open, while Ironhide had slumped over until he was almost in Ratchet’s lap.
Sideswipe snickered softly to himself and debated whether he should wake them up or take an image capture first. Before he could figure out how to get a good angle without falling of his berth, however, Ratchet gave a small start as one of the monitors hooked up to First Aid sent him an alert. He jumped a second time as his optics came online and he noticed Sideswipe peering at him.
“Ugh,” he muttered, as he pushed Ironhide over onto the floor. “What are you looking at?”
“Just what were you two doing down there anyway?” Sideswipe gave Ratchet a leering smirk as the medic laboriously got to his feet.
Ratchet ignored him, all of his concentration on his patient. “Well, now. This is promising.” Ratchet smiled to himself as he checked First Aid’s vital signs.
“Ironhide, hey. Get your aft up here,” Ratchet kicked at Ironhide’s frame a few times. Ironhide mumbled something unintelligible, and then suddenly shot to his feet in alarm, cannons at the ready. “What! What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. He’s trying to wake up.”
“Already? That’s great!” Ironhide powered down his cannons and grinned at Ratchet in relief as he picked up one of First Aid’s hands and began patting it with rough affection. “Aid, hey kid. Can you hear me?”
So old Rusty Hide had a soft side, Sideswipe mused, surprised by the strength of concern Ironhide had been displaying for the junior medic. Who would’ve guessed. Probably First Aid was Ironhide and Ratchet’s secret luuve sparkling he thought, snickering to himself. Ha! That was a good one. He’d have to remember to tell Sunstreaker later.
“Aah! Hey, kid, put the welder away!”
Sideswipe looked over to see Ironhide ducking as First Aid aimlessly waved the hand Ironhide had been holding with his built-in welder fully activated. Ratchet deftly caught First Aid’s arm and held it a safe distance from Ironhide.
“Sideswipe,” First Aid mumbled drowsily.
“Heh, Sideswipe wakes up fighting, Aid wakes up fixing!” Ironhide chuckled. “Not sure who’s more dangerous.”
“It’s ok, Aid, Sideswipe’s been repaired. Put your welder away,” Ratchet soothed. First Aid made an inquiring sound, and there was a faint whir as the welder transformed neatly back into place.
“You had a little accident, Aid. How are you feeling?” Ratchet asked. Ironhide moved in closer now that he was no longer in imminent danger of being “repaired.”
“...ow?” First Aid breathed softly.
Ironhide winced a little in sympathy. “Well, shoulda thought of that before you decided to go all shish kebob on us, kid. You gave us quite a scare.”
“Mm….bad?” First Aid’s voice was a barely heard whisper.
Ironhide met Ratchet’s optics briefly. “Ah…let’s just say you haven’t lost yer knack for testing out every known injury on yourself first.”
“Including a few unknown injuries, in this case,” Ratchet added. “I think you invented some new ones.” First Aid made a puzzled noise. “We’ll tell you later, Aid, don’t worry about it. Just lie still while we check you over, ok?”
First Aid’s head tilted slightly and his visor flickered a few times as he focused on Ratchet. “Hey, stop that!” Ratchet gave a gentle tap to his injured assistant’s shoulder. “No scanning or I’ll deactivate your diagnostics. You’re a patient right now, not a medic.”
“Racht…should rest.”
“Go ahead and recharge if you’re tired, Aid.”
“No, no….you rest,” Aid protested weakly.
“What part of ‘you are the patient’ do you not understand?” Ratchet said in mock-annoyance. “And I’ve had plenty of rest, thank you very much.”
“Mm, right.” First Aid was clearly not convinced. “…Sideswipe?”
“He’s fine. He’s right over there, Aid,” Ironhide pointed, and Sideswipe waved even though First Aid probably couldn’t see him. “Everyone’s fine, kid. Stop worrying.”
“Sun…”
“Sunstreaker’s fine too,” Ratchet cut him off in exasperation.
“Sideswipe’s optics…did you check…”
“That does it!” Ratchet growled, and he removed an injector from a cache in his side and injected something into one of First Aid’s energon transfusion feeds.
“Whoa…”
“That should shut down your repair protocols for awhile,” Ratchet said with a smug grin.
Ironhide chuckled as First Aid made a woozy humming sound.
“Hey, how come you never give me the good stuff?” Sideswipe protested.
Ratchet snorted. “Because I’ve heard you sing, that’s why.”
Right on cue, First Aid started singing, faint and a little wavery, but surprisingly sweet and in tune. “Fly…fly me over the moons of Cybertron…”
Sideswipe gaped as Ratchet joined in, singing words to a song he recognized from a sappy romance holo vid, popular from before he was ever sparked. “I’ll orbit you forever ‘till my spark is gone…” Even as he sang in a low, rather off-key voice, Ratchet never paused in his careful scanning of First Aid’s vital signs.
Aid stopped and laboriously lifted one hand to Ratchet’s arm with a lopsided, goofy smile visible on his unmasked face. “Raatchet…”
“Yes?” Ratchet paused, smiling down at the drugged-up junior medic.
“You can’t sing at all, Ratchet…” The smile slowly faded, to be replaced by a puzzled, wistful look. “I don’t sing much anymore, do I?”
“No, not so much anymore,” Ratchet replied softly, one hand gently stroking First Aid’s helm a few times. On the next berth Sideswipe pouted a little. Ratchet never stroked his helm when he was hurt and in the medbay. “It’s all right though. You don’t need to worry about it. Why don’t you take a rest, hmm? You’ve had a rough cycle.”
“Okey dokey,” First Aid sighed contentedly, smiling happily again. “Be sure to wake me…for my shift…’kay? ’Night…’Hide…” he mumbled, then sighed deeply once more and went still as he dropped into recharge.
“Cheeky sparkling, bet you think I can’t manage for two breems without you, don’t you?” Ratchet’s voice was soft and tender, and Sideswipe fought another surge of jealousy at the expression on Ratchet’s face. Not that he wanted to be looked at in such a sappy fashion, or be called a sparkling, for Pit’s sake, even if his chronometer said he was still shy of his first 10,000 vorns. There hadn’t been many actual sparklings on Cybertron for a long time, anyway, even before Vector Sigma had been destroyed.
“He doesn’t bounce back from this sort of thing like he used to, does he,” Ironhide murmured, some old sadness in his optics.
“No. He’s not out of danger yet.” Ratchet sighed. “Wheeljack will be devastated if I don’t bring him home in one piece. I don’t know what he’ll do.”
“Not to mention the other five airheads,” Ironhide said wryly, a note of fondness in his voice. “I’m sorta surprised they haven’t flown all the way from Cybertron to come pounding on the hull, demanding to see him.”
“Wheeljack was working on that, actually, before we left. Figuring out a way to upgrade them for interplanetary flight. I wish they were here,” Ratchet said. He laughed shortly, sounding surprised at himself. “The Ark wouldn’t have survived the first deca-orn, but I wish they were here, all of them, and not just for Aid’s sake. Primus save me.”
Ironhide chuckled. “If the Ark can survive my two spawns from the Pit, it can survive anything.” Sideswipe raised his head to glare at Ironhide. He and Sunstreaker belonged to no one. They were their own spawns from the Pit, even if they were technically still under Ironhide’s guardianship until the end of their probation period.
“I still don’t like the look of his spark energy levels,” Ratchet said, sounding worried, “although with his level of spark trauma, who knows….” Ironhide left off smirking back at Sideswipe to cross his arms and frown at the monitors, though Sideswipe was fairly sure he had as little idea what it all meant as Sideswipe did.
Ratchet and Ironhide continued to hover over First Aid and watch his monitors anxiously for the rest of the cycle, in between checking on the four other patients with damages severe enough to keep them in the medbay. Sideswipe, remembering his earlier promise, made heroic efforts not to succumb to boredom and do something drastic. Preferably something loud. Or messy. Or both.
Ultra Magnus stopped by to see how the remaining patients were doing, giving everyone a few encouraging words and speaking to Ratchet and Ironhide for several breems. Jazz came by later as well, breaking the tedium for awhile with his easy company, but after Jazz left Sideswipe resigned himself to counting the stains and dents on the ceiling in between wincing at the lights, and listening to the faint rasping sounds of First Aid’s air vents. Sideswipe looked over at Ratchet mournfully, hoping he would notice how not causing of trouble he was being, but Ratchet was immersed in adjusting one of the machines hooked up to First Aid. Just went to show you what playing nice and following the rules got you, Sideswipe thought in disgust. Ignored. Somewhere between watching Ratchet and trying to figure out if that splotch on the ceiling was shaped more like Brawn’s faceplate or Ironhide’s aft, he fell into recharge. When he awoke again, Sideswipe could hear the sound of a soft murmured conversation at the next berth; apparently First Aid was awake, too.
“Next time we’ll use the magnetic restraints.” Ratchet’s voice.
“But they hurt themselves,” came First Aid’s soft protest. Sideswipe had to dial up his audios to hear him. “Last time Sideswipe nearly pulled his own arm off.”
Sideswipe frowned. He vaguely remembered that. The restraints had thrown him back to one of the dark places, immobilized, helpless, while…Sideswipe shivered and resolutely veered his processor away from thinking about it.
“Sedatives then,” Ratchet was saying. “Or neuro paralyzers.”
“But they’re not appropriate in a lot of cases. And it’s harder to assess injuries if…”
“Aid, I mean it. This was too close.”
“It was a fluke. A one in a million…”
“One in a million is one too many.”
“I wish you would go get some rest, Ratchet. I’m all right.”
“You’re not all right. You’ve been babbling deliriously for the last ten breems.”
“I’m babbling?”
“Yes, you’re babbling.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. Sideswipe’s awake now, can you check his optics?”
Ratchet sighed. “Sideswipe’s still recharging, and that makes the fifth time you’ve asked about his optics since you woke up.”
“Really? I’m sorry, that must be annoying. I’ll stop doing that, ok, Ratchet? But photon damage sometimes doesn’t show up until later so we should check…”
“I know, Aid.” Ratchet’s voice was tired, but patient. “I’ll check when he’s awake.”
“I’m awake,” Sideswipe volunteered, rolling over on one side and giving Ratchet a cheeky grin. First Aid still looked like slag, he noted, hooked up to a veritable tentacle beast of medical equipment. First Aid tried to lift his head to look over at him, and Ratchet put a restraining hand on his chestplates.
“Optics…Ratchet.”
Ratchet sighed again. “Ok, Aid, I’ll check them. You promise to hold still though.”
“k…” faintly.
Ratchet came and shined a small light in Sideswipe’s optics.
“Does that hurt?” he asked.
“Nope, it’s fine,” Sideswipe answered, though the light left blazing trails of blue and yellow in its wake. He clenched his fist as his head gave another one of those sharp throbs in response, but his optics felt fine even though he couldn’t really see anything other than the path of Ratchet’s light for several moments.
“I don’t see any damage, but let me know if you start feeling pain or get any error messages. Satisfied now?” Ratchet turned and spoke to the other berth. “Sideswipe’s optics are fine, so you can stop worry about them.”
“Thanks,” First Aid murmured happily. “What about his leg…”
“First Aid,” Ratchet said sternly. “Who’s in charge of this medbay, anyway? Both his internal damages and his leg are healing, and I’m going to discharge him as soon as that knee articulation stabilizes a bit more. Is that acceptable?”
“Sorry…” First Aid’s voice was trailing and tired. “Optics?” he murmured again, very soft. Ratchet gave Sideswipe’s shoulder a pat and turned back to First Aid.
“Aid, I just checked them, remember? Sideswipe’s optics are fine.”
First Aid made an unintelligible sound that gave the impression of being somewhat skeptical, and mumbled something else as he slid back into recharge. Ratchet stared down at the junior medic, worried frown on his faceplates.
“How’s he doing?” Sideswipe asked hesitantly.
Ratchet shook his head. “I’m not entirely sure. He’s been in and out for the last joor. The processor looping is not unusual after this much trauma, but his spark rate is still all over the place. Not that his spark’s been anything resembling normal since…” Ratchet paused, a furrow appearing between his optic ridges in a sudden frown. “He’s holding his own, for now. We’ll just have to see.”
“Now,” Ratchet continued, turning back to Sideswipe, “let’s see if that leg is ready to bear weight.” His optics were dim with fatigue, but they twinkled for a moment as he looked at the red frontliner. “You’ve been entirely too well-behaved and it’s starting to make me nervous.”
“Trying to get rid of me?” Sideswipe quipped as he slid off the berth, then gasped and clung to Ratchet as pain shot up his leg and made his head spin.
“Still hurts that much?”
“Gah,” Sideswipe answered, as Ratchet eased him back down.
“All right, let me take another look,” Ratchet said with a weary sigh. “Looks like I’m stuck with you for now.” Ratchet’s voice was serious, but there was a twitch in the corner of his mouthplates that might have been a smile, Sideswipe thought. Hoped.
“At least your better half has sense enough to stay away,” Ratchet observed as he numbed Sideswipe’s leg and began puttering around inside. Sideswipe scowled. That was a good point. What the slag had Sunstreaker been up to anyway, all this time? He could feel his brother’s presence on the ship, like a distant burning star, but he was too far away to reach with their bond. Hadn’t even commed him once to see how he was doing. Well, he certainly wasn’t going to be the first to check in. Sideswipe crossed his arms and resolutely stared at the ceiling.
Slaggit.
Yo. Sunny.
There was no response.
Sunny? Sunstreaker? Bro? Old buddy ol’ pal? Suuuuuunny. Suuuuuunstreaker. Sunny?
What? came the annoyed response, finally.
Sunny! I was getting worried! Why weren’t you answering?
I was in recharge, idiot.
Oh. Why haven’t you been to see me? Ratchet growled a warning as Sideswipe fidgeted on the berth, and Sideswipe stilled himself with an effort. His skidplate was starting to ache though, after being on his back for so long.
It’s been exactly two cycles. I think you’ll live. Sunstreaker answered dryly.
Huh. Sideswipe could have sworn he’d been here for two orns at least.
That’s no excuse, he commed back.
There was no answer.
Sunny? Suuunstreaker...Sunny Sunny Sunstreaker Sun-
Sideswipe. If you do not cease I’m coming down there to rip off your other leg. I’m. Tired.
Sideswipe chortled. Ratchet gave him a look, complete with raised optic ridge, but said nothing, going back to his leg tinkering.
Aw, Sunnyboy. I knew you cared.
There was no answer, not that Sideswipe expected one. When Sunstreaker got his beauty recharge he meant business. Those who interrupted did so at the peril of their structural integrity.
Sideswipe sighed and tried to shift his weight a little without moving the leg Ratchet was working on, staring again up at the medbay ceiling. He sighed again, louder and more pitifully, glancing hopefully at Ratchet, but the medic was unmoved, working intently. A wave of bright warmth flooded his spark suddenly, and Sideswipe turned his head to see his brother slinking through the medbay doors to make his way over to Sideswipe’s berth.
“Sunny!” Sideswipe’s grin stretched across his whole face. Sunstreaker did not smile, coming to stand by the berth and stare down at him unblinkingly. Sideswipe could feel a brief mental brush through the bond, reassurance and remonstrance for dragging him from his recharge. He really was tired, Sideswipe could sense. He’d been recovering from injuries, too. Sunstreaker lifted his gaze to where First Aid lay unmoving in his nest of monitors, tubes and wires.
“That guy’s still alive?” Sunstreaker asked, surprised. “Thought he was a goner.”
“Aid’s been through worse and pulled through,” Ratchet said mildly. Sideswipe looked at Ratchet in surprise. Worse? What could be worse than nearly being impaled through your spark chamber? “He’s tougher than he looks,” Ratchet added.
Sunstreaker grunted and pulled a chair over to settle himself next to Sideswipe. He rested his head against the wall behind him and fell into recharge again almost immediately. Sideswipe watched him contentedly, letting his optics rove over the shining yellow armor (hadn’t been to visit him but still found time to get his paint cleaned up, he thought with a snort), the fine chiseled molding of his faceplates, expression serious and stern even in repose, like something out of an old ballad of Cybertron. Feeling the weight of other optics on him, Sideswipe looked up to find Ratchet watching him with an almost…indulgent smile. He blinked and it was gone, Ratchet’s face returning to his more usual glower.
“All right. Give these adjustments a joor or so to settle and we’ll try again.” He eyed Sunstreaker for a moment. “He can stay as long as he’s recharging, but if I hear so much as a beep from either of you, he’s out. Got it?”
“Got it,” Sideswipe nodded. Ratchet tapped him gently on the head with his spanner in warning and left to pull up a chair next to First Aid so he could fill out reports and still keep an optic on his assistant.
This entry was originally posted at http://playswithworms.dreamwidth.org/148529.html. Please comment wherever you wish.
Characters: Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, First Aid, Ratchet, Ironhide
Universe: Protectobot Beginnings AU
Rating: K+
Word Count: 5000
Warnings: fairly graphic description of injury and recovery
Summary: Sideswipe's adventures in behaving in the medbay.
Sideswipe awoke to the almost comforting feeling of hot rage, pricking through his consciousness. Sunstreaker was NOT HAPPY. Sideswipe turned his helm to meet his brother’s burning blue glare and felt something in his spark ease.
Sunstreaker tugged once, sharply, at the magnetic restraints on his wrists and legs, and Sideswipe thought he could feel the jolt all the way through his own berth. “Let. Me. Up. NOW.”
Sideswipe started to struggle over close enough to reach the closest restraint, but was stopped by a half-sparked thwop to his shoulder.
“You. Don’t move.”
Ratchet moved stiffly around to Sunstreaker’s side and started deactivating the restraints, keeping a prudent distance once Sunstreaker was free. “How are you feeling?”
Sunstreaker growled in reply, and started rubbing at the smears left by the restraints on his scored and soot-streaked arms. “You tied me up.” His baleful glare at Ratchet was deeply betrayed.
“Hmph. Well, sorry about that. We had to take some…precautions.” Sideswipe felt his insides clench again as memory returned. He had killed First Aid and now Ratchet would hate him. This couldn’t be made better by a wrench to the helm, although Sideswipe suspected Ironhide had just been yanking his chain about the rumored accuracy of Ratchet’s throwing arm.
“Ratchet….” Sideswipe made himself meet the medic’s exhausted gaze. “I’m just…I’m so unbelievably sorry. I didn’t mean to…” his voice trailed off at Ratchet’s completely baffled expression. Ratchet stared at him a moment, faceplates furrowed in confusion, and then his optic ridges rose in sudden understanding.
“Sideswipe, this wasn’t your fault,” Ratchet said firmly. “If anything it was mine for not having the proper safety precautions in place.”
“How?” Sideswipe wailed, and Sunstreaker stopped his futile arm polishing to stare at him in astonishment. “How is it not my fault Ratchet? It’s because of me that he’s deactivated and…”
“Wait! Whoa whoa whoa, hold on,” Ratchet waved his hands reassuringly. “Sideswipe, he’s not deactivated.”
Sideswipe, stopped at the beginning of what could only be described as a full-blown meltdown of uncharacteristic self-recrimination, could only gulp helplessly for several moments. Ratchet quirked one optic ridge finally and, with a faint half smile, pointed to the other side of Sideswipe’s berth. Sideswipe leaned over cautiously, long enough to see First Aid still on the floor, still covered with sensors and blinking monitors and tubes and wires, with Ironhide propped up against the wall nearby and dozing in a light recharge.
“He’s not out of danger yet, by any means, but he’s been holding steady for the past half joor.” Ratchet rubbed at his optics wearily. “I haven’t moved him yet. I just…I don’t want to chance it. Now. Sideswipe. Lie back down please and let me check these welds.”
“Will someone tell me what is going on,” Sunstreaker said a little plaintively.
//I nearly deactivated First Aid// Sideswipe told him through their bond.
//Who?// Sunstreaker craned his neck a little, but couldn’t see the injured medic over Sideswipe’s berth.
Sideswipe rolled his optics. Sunstreaker, not so much for remembering names. //You know. The little red-and-white guy. Helps out in the medbay//
//Oh. Him// Sideswipe blinked at the complex mix of emotions that accompanied Sunstreaker’s thought, but his brother buried them away before he could get a good grasp of them.
Ratchet sighed as he began examining Sideswipe’s injuries. His voice was hoarse with static, strangely quiet and gentle as he explained, almost as if he had taken on First Aid’s manner of speaking while the junior medic was offline.
“Sideswipe woke up rather…abruptly…while First Aid was fixing him and, as far as we can tell, managed to knock Aid directly on to the energy spear he’d pulled out of Sideswipe’s leg. Slagging thing hit at precisely the wrong angle, went through his armor like it wasn’t there and skewered him right through the middle.” Ratchet shook his head. “It hit pretty much every vital part it could hit along the way, including his spark chamber. I’ve done all I can for now, but even if…when...he wakes up….” Ratchet paused a moment to look down at the damaged medic on the floor pensively. “First Aid has some previous…injuries that might complicate things.”
//That’s why you’re freaking out?// Sunstreaker sent to his brother.
//I’m not freaking out// Sideswipe retorted.
//Yeah right. And I’m a medic in training// Sunstreaker was watching Ratchet intently, the smudges on his armor apparently forgotten. “He’ll be alright, won’t he, Ratchet?”
Ratchet glanced back up in surprise at the golden twin’s question. Sunstreaker expressing concern for a fellow Autobot? One that wasn’t Sideswipe? Sideswipe was surprised as well, not so much for the concern - more went on in his brother’s processor than anyone not spark-linked with him would ever guess - but that Sunstreaker had thought to ask it out loud.
“We’ll just have to wait and see. It’s up to him now. But it was not in any way, shape, or form your fault, Sideswipe, and I don’t want to hear any more about it.” Ratchet glared threateningly, sounding much more like himself. “It was a freak accident, a one in a million chance, and I’ll be taking steps to make sure that chance never happens again. Got it?”
Sideswipe looked down and nodded. “Well, next time, tie me up or drug me or whatever you have to do. And that goes for the crazy psychopath, too.”
Sunstreaker’s optics flared a cold and dangerous blue, and he scooted over so he could kick his twin repeatedly on his undamaged leg. Sideswipe tried to retaliate by reaching down to grab his brother’s leg, but yelped as the motion strained the fresh welds on his injury. He swatted futilely at Sunstreaker’s just-out-of reach upper half with one arm until Ratchet’s bellowed “Enough!” stopped them both (and every other inhabitant of the medbay) in their places.
The brothers stared with wide optics as Ratchet heaved air through his vents and clenched and unclenched his hands several times. Ironhide clambered up from his spot on the floor with a sleepy groan, and shifted his cannons meaningfully, the motion saying louder than words that he was not in the mood to put up with this slag from them right now.
//No shouting in the medbay, I think Ratchet just broke his own rule// Sunstreaker observed dryly, while Sideswipe struggled to keep from giggling, an act that would no doubt result in Instant Decapitation, either by way of Ratchet’s laser scalpel or Ironhide’s cannons.
“You,” Ratchet said finally, pointing to Sunstreaker, voice clipped and precise, “will leave now. Go wash or polish, or whatever it is you do. Refuel and recharge, in that order. Off duty for the next six cycles, then see me for a recheck. If you notice any electrical glitches contact me or return to the medbay immediately. And you,” he continued, turning to Sideswipe with a hint of a growl, “will lay on this berth without moving or speaking or so help me, I will teach you the true meaning of the phrase ‘to recharge like the dead.’ Am I clear?”
//Don’t let me say it, Sunny// Sideswipe sent as he nodded rapidly. It was dumb, it was stupid, it was annoying and not even remotely clever, and...he was going to say it anyway. “Yes, Ratchet, I can see right through you.” //Oh Pit. I’m going to die now. It’s been nice knowin’ ya, bro//
Ratchet, however, simply stood for a long moment, looking at Sideswipe with complete lack of expression on his face, as if he had forgotten how to move or think.
//I’m outa here// Sunstreaker sent uneasily, as he slid off his berth and edged out the door. //Good luck, fraghead!//
//Go smelt yourself// Sideswipe returned, shifting a little as Ratchet continued his motionless stare, trying to ignore how much colder the medbay felt without Sunstreaker there. Ironhide stepped carefully around First Aid and all of the medical support equipment on the floor, with a quelling frown at Sideswipe, and waved a hand in front of Ratchet’s face.
“Ratchet?” Ironhide said cautiously. “Hey, time for fuel and recharge. I’ll keep an eye on this idiot for awhile.” Ratchet finally looked at Ironhide, air cycling through his vents in a long sigh.
“First Aid’s still too unstable,” he said. “I’m fine.” Sideswipe blinked as it became apparent that Ratchet was just too tired to yell or threaten him anymore. For the first time he noticed that there was dried energon all along Ratchet’s side from where he had been lying in it on the floor, and that the medic was leaning against his berth as if it was the only thing keeping him upright, his optics flickering with exhaustion.
“Ratchet…” he said, ignoring Ironhide’s warning glare, “go ahead and get some rest. I’m sorry. Again. I know you’re worried about First Aid. I’ll behave, I promise.” Sideswipe looked up at Ratchet earnestly, trying to keep nothing but sincere contrition in his expression. It was easier than he expected, probably because he meant it.
Ratchet eyed him suspiciously, and then one optic ridge rose slightly as Ratchet snorted. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
“Here,” Ironhide walked around and patted the empty berth next to First Aid invitingly. “At least lie down for a few moments. You can still keep an eye on him, and I’ll get us both some energon.”
After another check of the other patients in the medbay, and a few adjustments to the monitors hooked up to First Aid, Ratchet at last let himself be coaxed into downing a cube of energon and to lie down “just for a moment” on the recharge berth. He was recharging almost before his helm hit the berth.
Luckily for Ratchet’s continued sanity, Sideswipe’s own injuries kept him from testing his resolve on his promise to behave. The last thing he remembered was fighting the tempting urge to “accidentally” poke Ironhide in the skidplate - it was right there! Right at optic level! And Sideswipe was injured so odds were Ratchet might even protect him. Now that would be worth risking Ironhide’s cannons to see, and Ironhide had put too much work into him and Sunstreaker to actually deactivate them. Sideswipe was pretty sure. But the overheating from his self-repair systems was making him tired, it was too much effort to lift his arm; it was too heavy, so heavy it was sinking…sinking…
When Sideswipe woke up again, wincing at the bright glare of the lights (seriously, whose idea had it been to outfit the Ark medbay with the light of a thousand supernovas?) and the dull ache in his leg, Ratchet was gone from the neighboring berth and First Aid had been moved there in his place, which Sideswipe took as a good sign. The medic still looked like slag warmed over, though. His face mask was retracted, strange to see - Sideswipe had never seen his face without it, or the sturdy visor that still covered his optics. It was a pleasant face; nothing fancy or optic-catching like Sunstreaker’s, but nice enough to look at. A little trickle of dried energon still remained where it had leaked from one corner of his mouth. Despite what Ratchet had said, Sideswipe still felt an uncomfortable twinge of guilt at the sight of the motionless junior medic. Or not so motionless. Sideswipe sat up to look more closely as First Aid stirred slightly.
“Ratchet? Hey Ratchet…Ironhide?” Sideswipe called, wondering where they both were. He didn’t think they would have left First Aid’s side. He was about to try the comm. when a faint sound attracted his attention, and he looked down to see Ratchet and Ironhide sitting on the floor next to his berth, both in recharge. Ratchet had his head tilted back against the side of the berth, mouth slightly open, while Ironhide had slumped over until he was almost in Ratchet’s lap.
Sideswipe snickered softly to himself and debated whether he should wake them up or take an image capture first. Before he could figure out how to get a good angle without falling of his berth, however, Ratchet gave a small start as one of the monitors hooked up to First Aid sent him an alert. He jumped a second time as his optics came online and he noticed Sideswipe peering at him.
“Ugh,” he muttered, as he pushed Ironhide over onto the floor. “What are you looking at?”
“Just what were you two doing down there anyway?” Sideswipe gave Ratchet a leering smirk as the medic laboriously got to his feet.
Ratchet ignored him, all of his concentration on his patient. “Well, now. This is promising.” Ratchet smiled to himself as he checked First Aid’s vital signs.
“Ironhide, hey. Get your aft up here,” Ratchet kicked at Ironhide’s frame a few times. Ironhide mumbled something unintelligible, and then suddenly shot to his feet in alarm, cannons at the ready. “What! What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. He’s trying to wake up.”
“Already? That’s great!” Ironhide powered down his cannons and grinned at Ratchet in relief as he picked up one of First Aid’s hands and began patting it with rough affection. “Aid, hey kid. Can you hear me?”
So old Rusty Hide had a soft side, Sideswipe mused, surprised by the strength of concern Ironhide had been displaying for the junior medic. Who would’ve guessed. Probably First Aid was Ironhide and Ratchet’s secret luuve sparkling he thought, snickering to himself. Ha! That was a good one. He’d have to remember to tell Sunstreaker later.
“Aah! Hey, kid, put the welder away!”
Sideswipe looked over to see Ironhide ducking as First Aid aimlessly waved the hand Ironhide had been holding with his built-in welder fully activated. Ratchet deftly caught First Aid’s arm and held it a safe distance from Ironhide.
“Sideswipe,” First Aid mumbled drowsily.
“Heh, Sideswipe wakes up fighting, Aid wakes up fixing!” Ironhide chuckled. “Not sure who’s more dangerous.”
“It’s ok, Aid, Sideswipe’s been repaired. Put your welder away,” Ratchet soothed. First Aid made an inquiring sound, and there was a faint whir as the welder transformed neatly back into place.
“You had a little accident, Aid. How are you feeling?” Ratchet asked. Ironhide moved in closer now that he was no longer in imminent danger of being “repaired.”
“...ow?” First Aid breathed softly.
Ironhide winced a little in sympathy. “Well, shoulda thought of that before you decided to go all shish kebob on us, kid. You gave us quite a scare.”
“Mm….bad?” First Aid’s voice was a barely heard whisper.
Ironhide met Ratchet’s optics briefly. “Ah…let’s just say you haven’t lost yer knack for testing out every known injury on yourself first.”
“Including a few unknown injuries, in this case,” Ratchet added. “I think you invented some new ones.” First Aid made a puzzled noise. “We’ll tell you later, Aid, don’t worry about it. Just lie still while we check you over, ok?”
First Aid’s head tilted slightly and his visor flickered a few times as he focused on Ratchet. “Hey, stop that!” Ratchet gave a gentle tap to his injured assistant’s shoulder. “No scanning or I’ll deactivate your diagnostics. You’re a patient right now, not a medic.”
“Racht…should rest.”
“Go ahead and recharge if you’re tired, Aid.”
“No, no….you rest,” Aid protested weakly.
“What part of ‘you are the patient’ do you not understand?” Ratchet said in mock-annoyance. “And I’ve had plenty of rest, thank you very much.”
“Mm, right.” First Aid was clearly not convinced. “…Sideswipe?”
“He’s fine. He’s right over there, Aid,” Ironhide pointed, and Sideswipe waved even though First Aid probably couldn’t see him. “Everyone’s fine, kid. Stop worrying.”
“Sun…”
“Sunstreaker’s fine too,” Ratchet cut him off in exasperation.
“Sideswipe’s optics…did you check…”
“That does it!” Ratchet growled, and he removed an injector from a cache in his side and injected something into one of First Aid’s energon transfusion feeds.
“Whoa…”
“That should shut down your repair protocols for awhile,” Ratchet said with a smug grin.
Ironhide chuckled as First Aid made a woozy humming sound.
“Hey, how come you never give me the good stuff?” Sideswipe protested.
Ratchet snorted. “Because I’ve heard you sing, that’s why.”
Right on cue, First Aid started singing, faint and a little wavery, but surprisingly sweet and in tune. “Fly…fly me over the moons of Cybertron…”
Sideswipe gaped as Ratchet joined in, singing words to a song he recognized from a sappy romance holo vid, popular from before he was ever sparked. “I’ll orbit you forever ‘till my spark is gone…” Even as he sang in a low, rather off-key voice, Ratchet never paused in his careful scanning of First Aid’s vital signs.
Aid stopped and laboriously lifted one hand to Ratchet’s arm with a lopsided, goofy smile visible on his unmasked face. “Raatchet…”
“Yes?” Ratchet paused, smiling down at the drugged-up junior medic.
“You can’t sing at all, Ratchet…” The smile slowly faded, to be replaced by a puzzled, wistful look. “I don’t sing much anymore, do I?”
“No, not so much anymore,” Ratchet replied softly, one hand gently stroking First Aid’s helm a few times. On the next berth Sideswipe pouted a little. Ratchet never stroked his helm when he was hurt and in the medbay. “It’s all right though. You don’t need to worry about it. Why don’t you take a rest, hmm? You’ve had a rough cycle.”
“Okey dokey,” First Aid sighed contentedly, smiling happily again. “Be sure to wake me…for my shift…’kay? ’Night…’Hide…” he mumbled, then sighed deeply once more and went still as he dropped into recharge.
“Cheeky sparkling, bet you think I can’t manage for two breems without you, don’t you?” Ratchet’s voice was soft and tender, and Sideswipe fought another surge of jealousy at the expression on Ratchet’s face. Not that he wanted to be looked at in such a sappy fashion, or be called a sparkling, for Pit’s sake, even if his chronometer said he was still shy of his first 10,000 vorns. There hadn’t been many actual sparklings on Cybertron for a long time, anyway, even before Vector Sigma had been destroyed.
“He doesn’t bounce back from this sort of thing like he used to, does he,” Ironhide murmured, some old sadness in his optics.
“No. He’s not out of danger yet.” Ratchet sighed. “Wheeljack will be devastated if I don’t bring him home in one piece. I don’t know what he’ll do.”
“Not to mention the other five airheads,” Ironhide said wryly, a note of fondness in his voice. “I’m sorta surprised they haven’t flown all the way from Cybertron to come pounding on the hull, demanding to see him.”
“Wheeljack was working on that, actually, before we left. Figuring out a way to upgrade them for interplanetary flight. I wish they were here,” Ratchet said. He laughed shortly, sounding surprised at himself. “The Ark wouldn’t have survived the first deca-orn, but I wish they were here, all of them, and not just for Aid’s sake. Primus save me.”
Ironhide chuckled. “If the Ark can survive my two spawns from the Pit, it can survive anything.” Sideswipe raised his head to glare at Ironhide. He and Sunstreaker belonged to no one. They were their own spawns from the Pit, even if they were technically still under Ironhide’s guardianship until the end of their probation period.
“I still don’t like the look of his spark energy levels,” Ratchet said, sounding worried, “although with his level of spark trauma, who knows….” Ironhide left off smirking back at Sideswipe to cross his arms and frown at the monitors, though Sideswipe was fairly sure he had as little idea what it all meant as Sideswipe did.
Ratchet and Ironhide continued to hover over First Aid and watch his monitors anxiously for the rest of the cycle, in between checking on the four other patients with damages severe enough to keep them in the medbay. Sideswipe, remembering his earlier promise, made heroic efforts not to succumb to boredom and do something drastic. Preferably something loud. Or messy. Or both.
Ultra Magnus stopped by to see how the remaining patients were doing, giving everyone a few encouraging words and speaking to Ratchet and Ironhide for several breems. Jazz came by later as well, breaking the tedium for awhile with his easy company, but after Jazz left Sideswipe resigned himself to counting the stains and dents on the ceiling in between wincing at the lights, and listening to the faint rasping sounds of First Aid’s air vents. Sideswipe looked over at Ratchet mournfully, hoping he would notice how not causing of trouble he was being, but Ratchet was immersed in adjusting one of the machines hooked up to First Aid. Just went to show you what playing nice and following the rules got you, Sideswipe thought in disgust. Ignored. Somewhere between watching Ratchet and trying to figure out if that splotch on the ceiling was shaped more like Brawn’s faceplate or Ironhide’s aft, he fell into recharge. When he awoke again, Sideswipe could hear the sound of a soft murmured conversation at the next berth; apparently First Aid was awake, too.
“Next time we’ll use the magnetic restraints.” Ratchet’s voice.
“But they hurt themselves,” came First Aid’s soft protest. Sideswipe had to dial up his audios to hear him. “Last time Sideswipe nearly pulled his own arm off.”
Sideswipe frowned. He vaguely remembered that. The restraints had thrown him back to one of the dark places, immobilized, helpless, while…Sideswipe shivered and resolutely veered his processor away from thinking about it.
“Sedatives then,” Ratchet was saying. “Or neuro paralyzers.”
“But they’re not appropriate in a lot of cases. And it’s harder to assess injuries if…”
“Aid, I mean it. This was too close.”
“It was a fluke. A one in a million…”
“One in a million is one too many.”
“I wish you would go get some rest, Ratchet. I’m all right.”
“You’re not all right. You’ve been babbling deliriously for the last ten breems.”
“I’m babbling?”
“Yes, you’re babbling.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. Sideswipe’s awake now, can you check his optics?”
Ratchet sighed. “Sideswipe’s still recharging, and that makes the fifth time you’ve asked about his optics since you woke up.”
“Really? I’m sorry, that must be annoying. I’ll stop doing that, ok, Ratchet? But photon damage sometimes doesn’t show up until later so we should check…”
“I know, Aid.” Ratchet’s voice was tired, but patient. “I’ll check when he’s awake.”
“I’m awake,” Sideswipe volunteered, rolling over on one side and giving Ratchet a cheeky grin. First Aid still looked like slag, he noted, hooked up to a veritable tentacle beast of medical equipment. First Aid tried to lift his head to look over at him, and Ratchet put a restraining hand on his chestplates.
“Optics…Ratchet.”
Ratchet sighed again. “Ok, Aid, I’ll check them. You promise to hold still though.”
“k…” faintly.
Ratchet came and shined a small light in Sideswipe’s optics.
“Does that hurt?” he asked.
“Nope, it’s fine,” Sideswipe answered, though the light left blazing trails of blue and yellow in its wake. He clenched his fist as his head gave another one of those sharp throbs in response, but his optics felt fine even though he couldn’t really see anything other than the path of Ratchet’s light for several moments.
“I don’t see any damage, but let me know if you start feeling pain or get any error messages. Satisfied now?” Ratchet turned and spoke to the other berth. “Sideswipe’s optics are fine, so you can stop worry about them.”
“Thanks,” First Aid murmured happily. “What about his leg…”
“First Aid,” Ratchet said sternly. “Who’s in charge of this medbay, anyway? Both his internal damages and his leg are healing, and I’m going to discharge him as soon as that knee articulation stabilizes a bit more. Is that acceptable?”
“Sorry…” First Aid’s voice was trailing and tired. “Optics?” he murmured again, very soft. Ratchet gave Sideswipe’s shoulder a pat and turned back to First Aid.
“Aid, I just checked them, remember? Sideswipe’s optics are fine.”
First Aid made an unintelligible sound that gave the impression of being somewhat skeptical, and mumbled something else as he slid back into recharge. Ratchet stared down at the junior medic, worried frown on his faceplates.
“How’s he doing?” Sideswipe asked hesitantly.
Ratchet shook his head. “I’m not entirely sure. He’s been in and out for the last joor. The processor looping is not unusual after this much trauma, but his spark rate is still all over the place. Not that his spark’s been anything resembling normal since…” Ratchet paused, a furrow appearing between his optic ridges in a sudden frown. “He’s holding his own, for now. We’ll just have to see.”
“Now,” Ratchet continued, turning back to Sideswipe, “let’s see if that leg is ready to bear weight.” His optics were dim with fatigue, but they twinkled for a moment as he looked at the red frontliner. “You’ve been entirely too well-behaved and it’s starting to make me nervous.”
“Trying to get rid of me?” Sideswipe quipped as he slid off the berth, then gasped and clung to Ratchet as pain shot up his leg and made his head spin.
“Still hurts that much?”
“Gah,” Sideswipe answered, as Ratchet eased him back down.
“All right, let me take another look,” Ratchet said with a weary sigh. “Looks like I’m stuck with you for now.” Ratchet’s voice was serious, but there was a twitch in the corner of his mouthplates that might have been a smile, Sideswipe thought. Hoped.
“At least your better half has sense enough to stay away,” Ratchet observed as he numbed Sideswipe’s leg and began puttering around inside. Sideswipe scowled. That was a good point. What the slag had Sunstreaker been up to anyway, all this time? He could feel his brother’s presence on the ship, like a distant burning star, but he was too far away to reach with their bond. Hadn’t even commed him once to see how he was doing. Well, he certainly wasn’t going to be the first to check in. Sideswipe crossed his arms and resolutely stared at the ceiling.
Slaggit.
Yo. Sunny.
There was no response.
Sunny? Sunstreaker? Bro? Old buddy ol’ pal? Suuuuuunny. Suuuuuunstreaker. Sunny?
What? came the annoyed response, finally.
Sunny! I was getting worried! Why weren’t you answering?
I was in recharge, idiot.
Oh. Why haven’t you been to see me? Ratchet growled a warning as Sideswipe fidgeted on the berth, and Sideswipe stilled himself with an effort. His skidplate was starting to ache though, after being on his back for so long.
It’s been exactly two cycles. I think you’ll live. Sunstreaker answered dryly.
Huh. Sideswipe could have sworn he’d been here for two orns at least.
That’s no excuse, he commed back.
There was no answer.
Sunny? Suuunstreaker...Sunny Sunny Sunstreaker Sun-
Sideswipe. If you do not cease I’m coming down there to rip off your other leg. I’m. Tired.
Sideswipe chortled. Ratchet gave him a look, complete with raised optic ridge, but said nothing, going back to his leg tinkering.
Aw, Sunnyboy. I knew you cared.
There was no answer, not that Sideswipe expected one. When Sunstreaker got his beauty recharge he meant business. Those who interrupted did so at the peril of their structural integrity.
Sideswipe sighed and tried to shift his weight a little without moving the leg Ratchet was working on, staring again up at the medbay ceiling. He sighed again, louder and more pitifully, glancing hopefully at Ratchet, but the medic was unmoved, working intently. A wave of bright warmth flooded his spark suddenly, and Sideswipe turned his head to see his brother slinking through the medbay doors to make his way over to Sideswipe’s berth.
“Sunny!” Sideswipe’s grin stretched across his whole face. Sunstreaker did not smile, coming to stand by the berth and stare down at him unblinkingly. Sideswipe could feel a brief mental brush through the bond, reassurance and remonstrance for dragging him from his recharge. He really was tired, Sideswipe could sense. He’d been recovering from injuries, too. Sunstreaker lifted his gaze to where First Aid lay unmoving in his nest of monitors, tubes and wires.
“That guy’s still alive?” Sunstreaker asked, surprised. “Thought he was a goner.”
“Aid’s been through worse and pulled through,” Ratchet said mildly. Sideswipe looked at Ratchet in surprise. Worse? What could be worse than nearly being impaled through your spark chamber? “He’s tougher than he looks,” Ratchet added.
Sunstreaker grunted and pulled a chair over to settle himself next to Sideswipe. He rested his head against the wall behind him and fell into recharge again almost immediately. Sideswipe watched him contentedly, letting his optics rove over the shining yellow armor (hadn’t been to visit him but still found time to get his paint cleaned up, he thought with a snort), the fine chiseled molding of his faceplates, expression serious and stern even in repose, like something out of an old ballad of Cybertron. Feeling the weight of other optics on him, Sideswipe looked up to find Ratchet watching him with an almost…indulgent smile. He blinked and it was gone, Ratchet’s face returning to his more usual glower.
“All right. Give these adjustments a joor or so to settle and we’ll try again.” He eyed Sunstreaker for a moment. “He can stay as long as he’s recharging, but if I hear so much as a beep from either of you, he’s out. Got it?”
“Got it,” Sideswipe nodded. Ratchet tapped him gently on the head with his spanner in warning and left to pull up a chair next to First Aid so he could fill out reports and still keep an optic on his assistant.
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