heavyweaponsbot | 6th Transmission / Audio

[The weight capacity of the bed was one of the furthest things from Ratchet's mind as he continued, tightening his grip on the cube. He never understood how the weapon master could be quite so stubborn over thins, especially when it was clear he had been acting for the greater good.

Of course, the addition of Energon to the mix of these thoughts certainly did not make it any clearer.]

My life pales in comparison to that many innocents. [Grumbles his frustration, finishing the remaining energon in the cube.] I can help just as much as any of the others - I would sooner die saving lives, than watching them extinguished before my optics.

[He was speaking slower, his words more pronounced as he made an effort to keep them coherent and not running together.]

You see them often enough. There are times I think I know your frame better than you do.

[In all honesty, he wasn't quite clear on his reasoning either. Innocent lives mattered--they mattered very much--but the thought of sacrificing their medical officer for them, even so many, was not something he wanted to think about. It hurt. And it scared him.

His response was to drink another round, finally starting to feel the effects.]

You can't help anyone if you're dead. [Formality was gone. Contractions appearing in his speech patterns--something rarely seen in normal conversation.] You can't help us. Or innocents. Everyone needs you alive.

[He noticed the effort, and heavily raised himself to his feet, crossing the space and holding out another cube. Stagger? What stagger?]

You probably do. More reason I need you around.

I was not doing it to get myself offlined.

[Despite his best efforts, he was beginning to slur slightly, leaning to one side as he looked down at the empty cube. He could have sworn it had been full only kliks ago...]

I had to save the dam from Payload. Thanks to his blasts, it was going to... bleed. You know...

[He made an awkward hand motion, which was not helped by the cumbersome energon cube he was still holding.]

Break, and the water would have drowned the innocents. At the time, it seemed most important.

[He twitches noticeably as he watches him move, unconsciously worried that his hip might not support his weight. Setting aside the empty on the bed, he leans forward to take the new one.]

There're other medics, you know.

Could've fooled me.

[He noticed the slur, the listing... it's a sure sign he should slow him down, and would, if he weren't also a little impaired.]

No. Dunno. What's... bleed? [Snorts a little at that hand motion.] Still should've... waited. Or something. Not supposed to take on Payload's class...

[Leans forward to hand over the cube...]

Sure. Other medics. Not my medic.

[Wobbles, and ends up sprawled on the bed next to him. Not... as planned. How many had he even had?]

Human medical term. When they leak fluids...

[He paused, contemplating that for a moment. Ironhide did seem to take offense to any organic leakage.]

Not that sort of leakage... The dangerous type. Internal.

I didn't attack him directly. [Huff. :|] I was warned against that already.

[He manages to take the cube before its holder began to sway - but it would do neither of them much good, as the bed let out a final groan before collapsing to the floor beneath their combined weight with a loud crash.

... Whoops.

While Ratchet did keep his hold on the energon, it did not stop a good deal of it from sloshing up the side, and splattering on him in the faceplates, leaving him blinking for a few moments as he tried to figure out what had just occurred.]

Not saying anything...

[It took him a good bit of time to recover both his wits, and his dignity. The latter did not seem to be returning anytime soon, so he concentrated on his wits. Muttering something, he rolled onto his side, looking up at his friend.]

Told you... the things're unstable. You shouldn't've sat on it.

[As if he were sitting across the room, and not sprawled beside the medic. After a minute, it occurred to him that there was something on Ratchet's faceplates that should not be there.]

You got... stuff. On you. Stuff's on you.

[Were he at all in full possession of his wits, he would have just laughed. Instead, he lifted a heavy, scarred hand to try and wipe some of it off the other.]

It was fine before.

[He was still trying to figure out just how he'd ended up on the floor to begin with, looking at the ruined bed beneath him, then the energon cube still clutched in his hands.]

Hm? Stuff?

[Ratchet only managed a confused expression as Ironhide touched his faceplates, still a little disoriented from the fall.]

What're you- There's... nothing there, Ironhide... 'Cept my faceplates.

Was not. Made for humans... 'member? Not human. You either.

[He shoved at him, lightly. Being on your side was a bad angle for pushing your friend around. But he didn't get up. It was more comfortable lying here with him. Something he never would have done... were it not for the energon.]

Stuff. On your face.

[Still more taping, and then he tried brushing the drink off him, frowning in concentration.]

Energon. S'on your face.

Been downgraded though.

[The shove managed to knock him off balance for a moment, but he eventually managed to recover, raising the energon cube once more. There was no harm in drinking more at this point - what else could possibly happen?

Perhaps he should not ask that question.]

... Is it?

[Ratchet leans forward slightly to better let him wipe it away, unable to see it on himself.]

So? Still... still gonna weigh the same.

[He fumbled around for his own discarded energon cube. After all, if Ratchet got more, he did too. It was nice to, for once, be able to drink and not worry about your limits. Because the only Decepticon here was Shockwave... who wouldn't attack them. He was afraid of them.]

Yeah, it is.

[All systems were dulled by the drinking. Nothing to warn him, or stop him... inhibition algorithms were cut out. When Ratchet leaned forward, he propped himself up a little more, trying in vain to get the spill off him.]

Not comin' off.

That... doesn't make sense. They removed things... Should be lighter...

[Ratchet wasn't phased by the proximity, his sensors already dampened by the energon. He couldn't feel the 'stuff' that Ironhide was referring to, nor could he see it - not that it was possible to see one's own face, but the thought hadn't exactly occurred to him at that moment.

He raised a hand to try and help, clumsily wiping at his mouth.]

S'gone?

Not--not my armor. Armor... weighs the most. Ironhide, remember?

[He backed off for a minute, watching his friend do his best to put himself back in order. There wasn't... really anything left on his face, now that Ironhide took the time to study it.]

Yeah.

[That problem solved, he rolled back over onto his back, letting heavy limbs fall where they would. Another drink from the rapidly emptying cube in his hand.]

Y'know what? Hey. Talkin' to you. Listen.

True...

[It took him a moment to actually register what he meant, but he gave a delayed nod of realization. His armor was heavy enough to break the bed - that made sense.]

What? 'M listening.

[He lowered his own cube to prove he was at attention, despite his somewhat... unfocused expression.]

'Course s'true. Know what m'talkin' about.

[His own gaze wasn't that much clearer, but in his defense, he'd emptied considerably more cubes than his friend had in the span of time they'd been drinking. He jabbed a hand in Ratchet's vague, neon direction, before letting it drop with a clang across the other's legs.]

Y'worry too much. Makes y'look more... worn down. Kinna like me. That. That. Not good.

Pretty sure I know more 'bout your armor than you...

[The noise made him jump almost as much as the sudden appearance of Ironhide's hand, and Ratchet glanced from the appendage to its owner and back again.

He prodded his hand lightly, but made no effort to move it, instead blearily inspecting the battleworn metal.]

Y'give me reasons to worry... and the others too. Always goin' out... Getting blasted, blown up, shot...

No y'don't. You didn't... get the upgrades. Get the installs... my hardware's mine. I know it.

[He blinked, doing much the same thing. He'd thought Ratchet was further away than that. There hadn't been any warnings. Moving it away was too much of an effort. Besides, he was comfortable.]

Not tryin' to. Just... doin' my job. Protecting you.

[And then he laughed. Loudly. Apparently, his long list of injuries was amusing.]

Shot... blown up... acid-riddled... dismembered... parts stripped... components shredded... spark shorted...

Worked on it enough...

[He let his own hand drop back to his side, leaning back against the wall with a muffled clank of metal.]

'Rather that you lived. Can protect myself too, y'know. Not... completely useless.

Hmph. Forgot fried circuits'n... n'that optic too. Pain in the aft.

Yeah... yeah you did. Good job.

[He watched him for a moment, quiet. He would have looked thoughtful if there wasn't a such a bleary expression on his face.]

'Rather you lived... too. See. That's... what 'm talkin' about. You... stayin' alive. That--that--that's important. Y'know? 'Course y'not... useless that's stupid.

[More silence, except the soft whir of systems quite happily overcharged.]

Y'could look at it. Y'never fixed it. I can't see.

You staying alive isn't any less important.

[He fidgets for a moment, lightly touching a finger to Ironhide's arm, feeling the area where his cannons should have been. It was still odd to see him without them - whoever was responsible had done such a clean job of removing the weapons, it was as though they had never been there.]

Not as... as useful in battle, s'what I meant. Couldn't've taken out Payload, so... just did what I was good at! Fixin' things... Do that a lot.

[A long pause, impaired systems working to understand and comprehend the last part of what he'd said. Perhaps another long drink from the cube would help.]

Can't see? Fraggit, Ironhide...

I'ma... I'm... gonna lookit it tomorrow. Dunno... if I can fix it right, 'cause... they took my tools. But I'm gonna try to fix it. S'that... okay?

Is too. Is too. M'a soldier. Made f'that. You? Aren't.

[There's more he wants to say on that subject, but his thoughts get derailed with the touch on his arm. He looks down at it, surprised. He should shrug it off, and pull back, because it's important he doesn't get too close - but right now, he can't remember why it was important. And it's... a nice touch. And that's a pleased sort of noise he's making, and can't help.]

Yeah... y'good at that. Y'real good. But. But. But you-! You gotta be more careful. Y'know? Need you.

["Tomorrow" doesn't sit right in his judgment-lacking processor. It's repairs, and Ratchet can make them, no matter what - he thinks. He flails around a bit until he gets hold of the hand on his arm.]

Y'can look now. M'right here. Dunno... 'bout later. Y'can look. Good enough t'look.

Hmph. You're not... made t'be killed.

'M careful. Still alive, right?

[He catches the noise and seeks to make him repeat it - It was a good noise, he was clearly doing something right to have earned that reaction. However, before he can garner the concentration to do so, Ironhide managed to catch his arm.]

... Dunno what I can do for't right now, 'Hide...

[There's a pause, his own processor attempting to reason why this was a bad idea, aside from the fact he was without his equipment. But Ironhide had only wanted him to look at it, right? And his own optics were functional...]

Hold still. Lemme see it.

Neither're you. An' yeah. Yeah y'are. An' I'm... gonna make sure... y'always are. Always.

[Holds onto that hand, suddenly incredibly entranced by it. It's really interesting. It's so much more flexible. And newer-looking. And smaller. This is a neat discovery!]

S'fine, Doc. S'fine. Jus'... y'always do fine. Always.

[He does hold still, looking up at him from where he's sprawled out. Hold still means you don't move, and he wasn't going to get up.]

M'still.

M'not gonna go anywhere.

[Now you can understand what he finds so fascinating! Isn't it interesting, the study of the various moving parts of the servos?]

Mm.

[After a moment's pause, he shifts to lean over the weapons master, trying to get a better view of the damage. Of course, with overcharged systems, what should have been a simple task suddently seemed several times more complex than it should have been. It was everything he could do not to poke at the cracked metal of his optic ridge.

He leaned in even closer, squinting as he attempted to examine it. This was all very interesting, but his processor could not quite fathom was was actually wrong with it.]

Yeah... 'Cause m'watching you. Watchin' y'back. Always gonna be.

[More interested in it because it's so different. Not at all like his. Smaller, brighter... and all the fingers work.]

Huh?

[There's a face suddenly very close to his. He almost pulls away. But this is is friend. What's there to be afraid of? To back off of? There was a reason. A very good reason. But he can't remember it right now. All the energon in his systems is making it very hard to remember much of anything...

And besides... having him so close feels... right.]

Hi.

[He lets go of the interesting hand... if only to focus on a more interesting object. And he pats the bleary, neon face above him.]

Hi.

Makes it easier... f'r me to watch yours. Got you close already.

[He was still attempting to decipher what it was that he was looking for when he felt Ironhide's hand on his faceplates. Hm. Well, that made this process more...

He wanted to say difficult, but the combination of the proximity, his hand; 'difficult' did not sound right for the situation.

Blinking as he attempted yet again to collect his wits, overcharged and dully aware as he was, the medic leaned against Ironhide's hand, trying to peer over it at the damaged optic.]

Hi.

6th Transmission / Audio

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