(Heeeccccckkkk...

So Miss Zombiy from Tumblr made a Shaman!Ratchet illustration sometime last week [I think?], and it sparked a bit of fun in the art server she and Farorest run. There was a bit of discussion on it, and then I saw the picture on Tumblr... and then two hours later I posted a first-draft work on the matter. I went back and edited this, so it isn't the first version, but it is a lot more cleaned up.

Long story short: gift for Zombiy, the art belongs to her as does the concept, and I have no impulse control.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Ratchet and Clank or any of its characters. Shaman!Ratchet and the cover art (provided for context) belongs to Zombiy of Tumblr and are used for gift purposes. It's now official you can pry Shaman!Ratchet from my cold dead fingers thank you Zom for bringing this boi into the world.

Healer

The night was a lot warmer than previous ones.

The Lombax, mainly yellow-furred with a few streaks of gray, grumbled as he saw the tell-tale floating blurs in front of his eye. The higher-pitched buzzing filled his ears as his hands gripped his staff a little bit tighter.

Of course there were mosquitoes out tonight.

He shook his head. Hot and humid summer nights meant the little buggers were active. It was going to be frustrating fending off mosquitoes while he worked. With a mental note in the back of his mind to hang up a net over his windows, he turned back toward the direction of his hut.

The forests of Quantos weren't completely black under the night sky (something the Lombax was thankful for), but bright little lanterns he had hung up aided him to his home. They twinkled over the massive leaves and trees, little stars caught in the curtains of the foliage. Light shone down on the familiar grooves in the trees, markings made for the late-night walks, and the Lombax followed them as he quickened his pace.

As soon as his hut entered his vision, a loud scream pierced the night air.

"LOMBAX! HURRY *ne*! I DON'T THINK HE'S GOING TO LAST MUCH LONGER!"

The yellow Lombax dodged over the remaining roots and trunks of trees, his legs guiding him to the door. "I promise Guardwra!" he called out. "Zig'll make it through. The kid's Chakra is figuring out how to get out the bad and realign the good."

His weathered staff hooked onto his back as soon as he reached the ladder. He climbed up the latter to the treehouse, the bag of herbs smacking against his hip as he hurried up to the little balcony. The male Fongoid standing over the trapdoor reeled back as the Lombax's muscular arms lifted the cat-like creature onto the balcony.

With a practiced move, the Lombax lifted the lower half of his body over the edge. He kicked the trapdoor shut behind him, then rose from his sitting position.

The Fongoid looked to him with worry shining in his eyes. "Pl-please Shaman *ner*, I am worried about my son. He's been in such pain, and I cannot lose him *hur*."

The Lombax nodded. "I know, Guardwra." He gave the Fongoid a comforting smile. "But I promise, this is not the first time I've done this before, and your kid is a lot stronger than most."

Guardwra bit his lip as his body trembled. His hand wrung together, and the shaman's ears twitched as the sound of a stuttered breath met them. A little nod came from the Fongoid before he ducked back through the hut's doorway.

The Lombax sighed as he absentmindedly patted the bag at his side. Memories ran through his mind.

He knew that feeling.

That feeling of hopelessness.

That feeling of gut-churning fear and anxiety.

That feeling of unease as a creature you didn't know anything about now held the power to keep your loved one safe.

Before he stepped through the threshold, he closed his eyes tight and let the memory turn to prayer.

Keep Zig safe for me will you, pal?

His large foot stepped through the door, and his eyes opened as a pained moan came from the tiny Fongoid child.

On the other side of his hut, past where his little chair and dining/work table was, lay Zig. The child was almost swallowed under blankets, and a heavy coat of sweat shone underneath the Lombax-made lamps. A hoarse cough echoed from his throat before growing into a fit, and Guardwra bent over his child as he gently laid a hand over where Zig's legs were.

The shaman moved, crossing the little hut easily, and crouched next to the young child. He shrugged off the bag, then dug around for the herbs and supplies he needed.

Zig looked up at him. His mouth moved slowly, and a voice so quiet only the Lombax's hearing could pick up came out. "Mr. Shaman... am I gunna... gunna..."

The Lombax shook his head. He laid out the herbs and mixing bowl in front of him, then rubbed a gentle hand over Zig's soaked forehead. "You're gunna be alright, Zig," he whispered. "I'm not gunna let anything happen to you, okay bud?"

Zig's eyes closed, and that's when the shaman went to work.

Herbs were mashed, chants said, incense lit. Nets were hung over the windows and doors. Guardwra was constantly kept busy as the shaman worked hard into the night. More than once the Lombax had to fight to keep Zig from slipping, but not once did the child lose his burning need for life.

When the sun finally broke through the forest top, so did the spell on Zig.

The child jolted, his eyes bursting open after hours of them being shut. His chest heaved as he sucked in air, and he jack-knifed up as energy rocketed through him.

"What'd I tell you, Zig?" The shaman stood by the little food-making area, the tell-tale smells of a hearty stew filling the air. "You were in good hands, and I wasn't going to let you slip."

Zig took a moment to calm down. His hands loosened his grip on the blankets, and his breathing slowed as his head turned around, gathering information on where he was. "Hey *ner*, where's my pop?"

The Lombax sniffed the broth before continuing to stir. "He had to leave and tell your mom the news. He'll be back later, hopefully after we get you some breakfast."

Zig watched as the shaman lifted the wooden ladle out of the cauldron. The Lombax grabbed a bowl with his free hand and carefully filled the bowl with stew.

Zig sniffed as he turned his head. His eyes caught a flash of metal, metal he hadn't seen before.

Nails clicked against the wood floor as the Lombax walked over to Zig with a bowl and spoon in hand. The shaman licked his lips as he placed the bowl Zig's lap and slipped the spoon into one of the Fongoid's tiny hands.

"I'm jealous, kiddo, you've got a day in bed and a hearty breakfast to eat." The Lombax gave Zig a playful wink. "I've got to do boring adult chores before I can do all the cool kids stuff."

Zig smiled as he dug into his bowl of stew, loud chewing and slurping as the Fongoid ate for the first time in hours. The Lombax stayed close, making sure nothing spilled or showed signs of the illness relapsing.

As Zig finished the bowl, he leaned back against the pillow. The shaman took the bowl from him and nodded as Zig laid back.

"Try not to do any more impromptu summoning next time your parents are visiting your uncle, 'kay? It'll help keep those bad spirits away. But for now, you take a nice rest now kid, and by the time you wake up again, your parents will be right here with you."

The tiny head nodded slowly. "Hey... *nur* Mister Shaman... *ner* what's that?"

The Lombax's eye followed the Fongoid's pointer finger, and rested on the giant silver-and-blue wrench on the wall's shelf.

A moment passed before the Lombax spoke up again. "That's something from a long time ago, kiddo..."

"Is it special *ne*?"

"You don't need to worry about it. It's just something from when I was in a different place."

Zig's eyelids grew heavy, the warm broth drawing them closed. He gave a tiny nod as he settled into the pillow. "Thank you for saving me, Mister Shaman..." he whispered.

The Lombax smiled softly as he looked from Zig's tired form back to the wrench.

"It's no problem, pal. It's what I do."

Okay, so there are two different kinds of Shaman!Ratchet versions.

Farorest's version (loosely quoted): After "Crack in Time," Ratchet says "screw it" and lives life like the Mystic (Crystal Boi) from RaC2. Clank goes back to renew Secret Agent Clank and checks in on Ratchet to make sure the Lombax is doing okay.

My version (the version that this story follows): AU where Clank decides to stay at the Clock, even after Azimuth is defeated, because he wants to do what his father entrusted him to do. With no best friend and his new-found father figure now gone, Ratchet decides to stay away from civilization to heal from it all and lives on different planets as a shaman healer. He generally sticks to planets with Fongoids, as they can keep him close to his old friend. He's been recovering from the loss in his life, and he hopes he can one day see Clank again before he passes.

I didn't make them different because I wanted to go against anything. At the time I was writing the first draft, I was getting it all out, and when I went back to edit it I felt that I would stick to my version as it... well, it felt easier for me to write. It's all up to the artist on whichever version she wants, but overall I just wanted to write a lil story for that cool illustration. I hope y'all liked it, and please check out Zombiy when you get the chance! She has amazing Ratchet and Clank concepts, and she's a blast to talk to!

(For the peeps who have sent me messages or reviews over the past few days, I will try to get back to them as soon as I can. I'm entering my last two weeks of school and I'm going to be swamped with work. I haven't forgotten anyone I promise, and I will try to get back as soon as I have the time to!)

Other than that, I'll see you guys in the next story!

XD