Okaaay... first of all I will apalogize for making you wait for such a slagging long time! -makes a bow so deep that my nose hits the floor tiles with a crunch- You see, I wrote pretty much of this story, and then my hard drive broke. Yeah, broke... kaput. All stories gone, everything. It kind of got me out of the mood, but as you can see, I'm back! And this gave me the chance to evolve the original idea (just as you said, "the laughing platypus". Thank you for your support!)
This chapter is awfully short, but i decided to post it as proof that I'm actually alive, and the story too. And now when I'm back in the mood, it won't take several months for me to post the next chapter. I am really very sorry for almost giving up!
Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to their creators, and I make no money of this fic.
Warnings: In this particular chapter, there are none... I think. Angsty content?
It was 2 am. The greenish yellow-painted Autobot had finally settled on his recharge pad in the room neighboring to the infirmary. Data streamed through his cpu constantly, sensors gathering information from the fleshling as the narcosis wore off and she slowly switched to natural sleep.
He wondered whether she would remember what had happened or not. He had read about cases where the brain shuts off memories from tragic events. A part of him hoped that that would be the case, but the more logical part told him that those kinds of things weren't lasting forever and when the memories resurfaced, it would be just as bad as before.
A slight change in the stream of data he received made him pull out of his thoughts. He lay completely still for a moment, analyzing the info – yes… it had begun. He sat up, feeling his limbs going heavy in the need for recharge, but he ignored it and walked into the infirmary. He cast a glance towards the berth, where Mikaela had begun trashing around. The IV hoses were pulled at and the pain in her arms dragged her out of the restless sleep. Ratchet saw her eyes opening in the same moment as he reached for a small bottle on a shelf above his working space. He could feel her adrenaline levels rising, and it was soon accompanied to something close to hyperventilating – she did remember. Slag it. He pulled out a syringe from its casing and stuck it into the bottle, drawing some of the slightly pink-colored liquid out and up into the tube. He turned to look at Mikaela again and had to bypass his emotional processors; her eyes were leaking at the pain – whether it was physical or psychological, he could not tell. As he approached her, she gave him a begging, questioning look that searched for some proof that it all had been a bad dream. Since he couldn't give her such comfort, he didn't speak and instead reached out for her arm. Mikaela's face contorted as she let out a quiet sob and new tears ran down her face.
"Ratchet…" she whispered hoarsely. The medic stuck the needle into the thin skin on her forearm, inserting the soporific substance in silence.
It only took a moment for her eyes to become glazed over. Her crying ceased slowly and Ratchet let his free hand land on the girl's head, stroking carefully until she had gone back into oblivion. He put the syringe down on the side table and kept his hand on her head, and didn't turn around as the door slid open and a well-known presence entered the room.
Optimus Prime contemplated the scene with calm optics, sighing.
"I sensed movement."
Ratchet didn't turn to look at the Autobot leader, but kept stroking the girl's hair absent-mindedly. The machines surrounding her beeped and hummed, accompanying the soft sound of her calm breaths.
"She woke up." He mumbled. "I took care of it."
"How was it?"
Ratchet's posture relaxed somewhat and he let out something equivalent to a human's sigh.
"Bad." He said. After a moment's silence, he turned to face his comrade and added: "She remembers."
Prime nodded.
"The harm is already done. We can only do so much to help her."
His gaze wandered over the medic's weary face.
"How long was it since your last recharge?"
Ratchet walked across the infirmary, shaking his head and fighting the fatigue that had reminded itself of its presence at Prime's words.
"I'll manage." He tried waving it off and picking up a set of instruments to clean and sharpen. "I've been through worse."
Optimus contemplated Ratchet, a hint of worry in his calm features.
"Yes, but you are not helping Mikaela by deactivating in the middle of an emergency. Go recharge. I'll hold the positions meanwhile."
The medic's movements halted and he looked at the bigger Transformer, the stubborn façade beginning to crumble.
"You would do that?" He asked wearily.
Optimus nodded.
"Just tell me what to do when she wakes up."
Ratchet put the tools back in their respective boxes before waving for the other to come closer. He began pulling out different bottles and containers, putting them on the working table.
"This is used for making her fall asleep again." He explained, lifting the bottle he had been using a couple of minutes ago, and then he took another syringe and pointed at the marking on it. "This much is sufficient for it to work. And the other bottle over there should be used if the wounds get infected, and there are compresses, bandages, and…"
The medic, who had been on his way to a shelf on the opposite wall, stopped and swayed dangerously on the spot. Optimus rushed forward to support his friend, taking hold of his arms and keeping him steady.
"I think I can handle it. You go straight to your recharge pad and don't leave it for at least twelve earth hours. That is an order."
He helped Ratchet get to the other room, and for once, said CMO not protest at almost being carried. He felt like a helpless sparkling, but it was no use contradicting his leader when it came to the health of others – especially his men. So he simply went with it. They both knew why he was out of energy, but none of them spoke of it. The now fully repaired – though lifeless – silver painted body lying in another room silently told everyone about hours and hours of work and lack of rest.
Ratchet lay down on his recharge pad, and Optimus barely had the time to let him go before the medic was pulled into a deep, well-needed recharge.