13th Transmission

[heavyweaponsbot]

[There are dragging, scraping sounds as the comm clicks on, and they continue throughout the transmission.]

I require...

[A long pause, as if the next part is physically painful to say.]

... a mechanic. And a drink.

[The comm clicks off there, as the speaker continues hauling his broken old aft toward his quarters.]

Comments

[heavyweaponsbot]

...

Hmn. Did not... think you would want to try.

[medicalofficer.livejournal.com]

It is my function, no matter what idiocy led to the damages.

[heavyweaponsbot]

... Fine, then nothing has happened, there are no damages.

[medicalofficer.livejournal.com]

You are a very poor liar.

[heavyweaponsbot]

... What do you want me to say? "Come over, I broke something again"?

Told you... Wanted to be left alone.

[medicalofficer.livejournal.com]

So you could scrap yourself. Brilliance.

[heavyweaponsbot]

Stow it! I will disconnect this line.

[medicalofficer.livejournal.com]

Feel free.

[ Disconnects to save you the trouble. ]

[heavyweaponsbot]

...

[ATTEMPTING TO RECONNECT. >8| ]

[medicalofficer.livejournal.com]

[ The medic you are attempting to reach is pissed off. Leave a message, and he might reply. :| ]

[Locked - Unhackable]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[FINE HERE, LEAVING YOUR OLD AFT A MESSAGE]

...

They went for the chest.

[Locked - Unhackable]

[medicalofficer.livejournal.com]

...

Are you alright?

[ Damn his concern for you. ]

[Locked - Unhackable]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[damn the familiar routine]

...

Not certain.

[Locked - Unhackable]

[medicalofficer.livejournal.com]

Ironhide-

[ A soft rush of air from his intakes, clearly exasperated. ]

Will you at least let me take a look?

[Locked - Unhackable]

[heavyweaponsbot]

...

[silence]

...

If... you say nothing... about... anything.

[Locked - Unhackable]

[medicalofficer.livejournal.com]

I will say nothing at all.

Where are you?

[Locked - Unhackable]

[heavyweaponsbot]

... Good.

My quarters.

[SPAMS YOU WITH ACTION!]

[medicalofficer.livejournal.com]

[ Already on his way. ]

[SPAMS WITH ACTION!]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[Door's unlocked, and the room's occupant is propped up against a wall, staring down at his communicator... wondering if this was smart of him to do.]

[SPAMS WITH ACTION!]

[medicalofficer.livejournal.com]

[ He doesn't bother knocking, his worry for the other getting the better of him. Considering how shaky their friendship had been since the events of Halloween, he should have known better.

Instead, he opened the door, optics searching until they spotted him. It took an effort not to snap at him for his foolishness, but instead said nothing at all, walking briskly to his side. ]

[SPAMS WITH ACTION!]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He doesn't look up, he even refuses to so much as look at him as he enters. His gaze stays fixed on the opposite wall.

The only indication he gives that there's another presence in the room is the shifting of his arms, revealing the rather enlarged chest hole.]

[SPAMS WITH ACTION!]

[medicalofficer.livejournal.com]

[ Fortunately, he wasn't expecting much from him.

It was awkward to say the least, but he had no intention of being the one to relieve the tension.

He knelt at the other's side as he leaned closer to examine the wound. It was a nice mess, but he was still without his tools. If he could only get his internal heating to a high enough temperature, he might be able to do something... but as of yet, no luck.

He started it all the same, hoping that perhaps he could work it up to a suitable heat, and at least patch some of the internal damage, if he couldn't help the armor for the moment. ]

[SPAMS WITH ACTION!]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He wanted to help - to talk to him, and fix things. But every time he tried, he kept picturing that night. And he couldn't say anything.

Contrary to previous medical procedures, he held perfectly still. He'd turned off his own pain receptors as best he could, but they were starting to come back online. His optics shuttered, and he leaned against the wall, simply waiting.

Even if their friendship was ruined, nothing could shake the amount of trust he had in Ratchet's medical skills.]

[SPAMS WITH ACTION!]

[medicalofficer.livejournal.com]

[ Ratchet knew things were amiss when the Weapons Master actually remained still during the procedure. Ironhide fidgeted at the best of times - he often thought that he would return from the brink of death, if only so he could restless move through surgery.

He leaned closer, optics narrowed as he analyzed the severed connections, warmed fingers able to fuse the thinner metal back together.

But still not enough to do any real welding.

It was frustrating, enough to make him fidget himself. He rerouted his power, attempting to force his internal temperature higher - He could salvage the metal needed for repairs from parts of the ship if he could just get his welders working.

His temper was certainly helping him along. ]

[SPAMS WITH ACTION!]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[Holding himself still was keeping his processor focused on other matters entirely--namely, the procedure at hand--and not on what had happened, on what was broken between them now. And it helped to keep himself from wincing as heat was applied to aching, broken parts.

Still, his intakes hissed, and big hands tightened at his sides.

It had been a terrible idea to seek out fights. But that hadn't really sunk in until the second blow to the chest, driving armor and metal into sensitive parts.

He looked up at the ceiling, swearing softly.]