Ironhide (
heavyweaponsbot) wrote2010-03-01 04:09 pm
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24th Transmission -- [Commentlog?]
[Ironhide isn't using his comm. He refuses to admit that anything happened over a public channel. Instead, he's dragging his aft away from deck 3. He moves stiffly, leaning heavily on a wall as he limps along.
One hand is constantly pressed to his chest, as if that's going to help anything. His intakes rasp, big frame shuddering occasionally.
He has one goal in mind - Get to Ratchet. Something is wrong, not just the fresh mark on his armor. He just has to get to his friend and medic.]
One hand is constantly pressed to his chest, as if that's going to help anything. His intakes rasp, big frame shuddering occasionally.
He has one goal in mind - Get to Ratchet. Something is wrong, not just the fresh mark on his armor. He just has to get to his friend and medic.]
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He's not in the best moods, thanks to the combination of Ironhide's thick-headedness and his conversation with Ganondorf - and is taking out his frustrations on the human medical text.]
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Doc'... you in...?
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Ironhide?
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[There's a burst of static from his vocals, while he lets the pain pass. It's still there... but less debilitating.]
Open this.
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[The static was enough to have him on his feet, rushing to the door. Something wasn't right.
He threw open the door, his hands automatically seeking out Ironhide's shoulders. That idiot.]
What in the pit have you-
Who is responsible for this?
[... Though, he had a very good idea.]
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Quit... asking stupid questions... just...
[His hand slides off one wrist, clutching at his chest armor.]
Fix it.
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[He couldn't help but say it, bracing his weight against him as he moved to guide him inside. Already, he was running preliminary scans to figure out where the damage lay, though from the way he was grasping his chest, it was easy to tell where the worst of it lay.
He wasn't sure how much he could accomplish without the additional tools from the engineer, but he would do what he could.]
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[He wasn't in the mood to argue that--not when it was actually true. He held onto the other, letting himself be dragged around in a familiar ritual. No use protesting, no sense protesting.
This at least, was one exam he wouldn't fidget for.]
... Sorry. For this.
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[He mutters a few things in Cybertronian as he steers him to the closest wall, helping him ease down onto the floor. Berating him now would do nothing, but it felt like the only way he could vent how furious he was with the situation - and how helpless he felt, having Ironhide come back to him in this state.
It was infuriating as a medic, but moreso as his friend.]
You had best pull through, Ironhide, or so help me, I will pound sense into your head yet.
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[He's used to the ranting. It's oddly comforting. He sinks down onto the floor, groaning quietly. His frame twitches every so often, intakes hitching. Really shouldn't have done this - he knows it upsets the other. Especially now.]
Even if... just going to come back... you know.
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[Finally allowing himself to settle, Ratchet got his first clear look at the damage that had been done by his attacker. The wiring, he could fix. The damage from the energy blasts was a bit more questionable - He would need to take it easy, for certain.
Leaning in closer to see just what he had left to work with of the wiring, he lets a soft sigh of air escape his intakes.]
That is hardly the point. I... would not wish to lose a patient, even temporarily.
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[His optics shutter, with another spasm. He concentrates on staying still long enough for Ratchet to take a look--he's had worse before. He can take this.
Gears grind, as panels slowly start to slide open, for better inspection. He does, however, open one optic briefly, and rest his hand on the other's chest.]
Too stubborn for that... and you know it.
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Attuning his optics for magnification, he set to work carefully melting the broken ends, figuring out how much length had been taken by Ganondorf's attack. He had enough scrap metal that he should be able to accommodate for the missing materials.]
None of us are immortal, much though you might like to think so. You cannot endlessly abuse your body, and hope for the best - We all have limits.
I do not want to bear witness to the day when you discover what yours are.
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... Know that. I am... made to take abuse... more than anyone...
[He grips the other's armor, tightly.]
Not leaving you.
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Which only made him want to hit him with a wrench all the more.]
That does not mean you should test that.
[He pauses, his head still lowered so that he doesn't have to meet his optics.]
You have yet to - However, when you pull stunts like this, there are times I worry.
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... Yeah. Yeah. Just... it was a challenge...
[A stupid reason, but he had to give some reason.]
Never mean to make you... worry. To hurt you.
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Of course. And being the thick-headed soldier you are, it never crossed your processor to say 'no,' or at the very least, have informed me, so I might be better prepared...
... [muttercurse] Show up at my door, looking one step from the scrapheap... Nearly short out my spark, old fool... [grumble]
[Running a gentle finger over the spark casing, he paused, not answering his last statement. It was a loaded subject anyway, and now wasn't the time to get into it.]
I need at least a basic explanation of what was done to you. You are lucky to still be processing from the looks of this - You are not going anywhere for at least a megacycle, so I can keep an optic on you.
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[He goes quiet a while, letting him work. The cursing is as familiar a the repairs. The touch, however, while usually a good thing, makes him wince, tensing and holding tighter to the other's chest armor like a lifeline. Nothing can go wrong now--his medic is here.]
Ow...
[More silence. He genuinely does feel bad for worrying him. For not telling him anything. But he hadn't wanted him involved--and he'd never thought this would happen. Maybe he's an idiot for wanting to keep Ratchet in the dark, but if Ganondorf had attacked him, why not his... friend?]
Tore out wiring... impacted... chest. Some kind of... energy. It hurts... [He hates admitting the last part. He should be able to deal with pain.]
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[He frowns at the reaction, withdrawing his hand. When it came to working with spark casing, a certain degree of care had to be taken for obvious reasons. There was very little he could do, other than keep him from moving too much.]
I would not doubt it. If he used an energy attack, it will be difficult to know what is structural damage, and what is leftover trauma to the spark itself.
For the moment - I know this is difficult for you - you will have to remain quiet and calm.
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[Feeling his hand pull away, he reaches up to grab it. This is his fault--he knows how badly this makes Ratchet feel, and he went and did it anyway. After a moment, he tugs him closer, whether or not he's finished with the wiring.]
I... sorry. I should... I am... sorry.
[He doesn't know why, he just feels like he should apologize. His grip tightens again, riding out another jolt of pain before he settles himself.]
... Best take my comm. And... see to Mikaela. Not staying calm otherwise.
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[He glances up at him finally, bumping foreheads lightly. He knew that Ironhide felt bad for what he had done, and for the moment, it seemed enough to cool his temper.]
What you can do is follow my instructions and allow yourself proper time to heal. That spark of yours has been through worse than this - So long as you give it the time it needs, you will be fine.
[Wincing himself as he feels the painful tension in the other's frame, he lets a calming rush of air escape his vents.]
I will speak to Mikaela - And you will lose your communicator until I feel you are fit to have it back.
And you had best not even consider going after the human responsible.
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[There's a sigh of his own, leaning against the other. He should be angry, should be threatening to tear the enemy's hands off. But instead, he's calm--relatively speaking. Ratchet's presence helps. Being in the care of the only one he trusts for delicate work... it's comforting. Not that he'd ever say so out loud. His engine hitches, and then gives a low purr before shutting off.]
I follow your orders. Sometimes. Not... going anywhere like this anyway...
[His intakes hiss, and he leans against his friend, willing himself to stay relaxed. It would sort itself out soon--Ratchet said so. After a moment, he fumbles with his comm, passing it over without a fight.]
Here... Make sure she listens... And I will leave him be. For now.
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[The purr is reassuring as he leans against him, hoping to soothe him at least somewhat. He knows that the process would not be an easy one, but there was little he could do for him.
As for Mikaela... That could prove more difficult.]
I will.
[He took the communicator from him, tucking it away with his own.]
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[He trails off, leaning back against the medic's weight. At any other point, he would have laughed--who ever would have thought that proximity, that physical contact, would help him calm down? But it feels like it's working, the pain has receded.]
You were always more diplomatic than me... You know?
[Shuttering his optics, he shifts, adjusting to rest his head against the other's chest.]
... if you cannot handle a juvenile female, what good are you?
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Perhaps that, or your weekly testing of it has finally pushed me to my limit.
[Ratchet chuckles all the same, meaning it in good humour - Without Ironhide, he'd likely have very little work to do. He and Prime were his most frequent guests, and as the latter was not aboard this vessel, it left him with very little company.]
What the humans refer to as 'teenagers' are not nearly so logical. Dealing with them requires a certain touch, which I fear I may not possess.
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Not my fault, either. Blame the young ones.
[The more they talk--or banter, whichever it is--the more bearable the pain in his chest becomes. This is normal. This is how it should be... It's comforting, on a level he'd never known he needed.]
Just leave her pheromones out of it. You will manage.