This is going to be a collection of short stories all from Tf: animated Ratchet's point of view. The poor guy barely gets any love! And this makes me sad.
This story is Ratchet's thoughts on the relationship budding between Jazz and Prowl. I can't say that all of the stories will be on the same subject so don't get used to it.
I'm old, not stupid. Something these young bots don't seem to understand. I'm also not deaf! Damn kids yelling at me all the time! I can hear just fine. Uh! Young bots! Can't live with em', can't melt em' down for scrap. I hear more than fine actually, not that anyone bothers to ask before they shout in my audios. A medic has to have good hearing and even better eyesight. I've trained my optics to see all the little details. It's saved plenty of lives too. Just one little thing, one little thing missed and that's it. I was patching up bots through the entire Great War so I've seen just about every wound you could imagine. So it really ticks me off when these young bots think they can pull a fast one on me. Now normally I expect this kinda' thing from Bumblebee, that damn kid just likes making trouble for me I swear, but I didn't expect it from Prowl.
Now I'll admit the first time he showed up in the med bay needing some scratches buffed out I didn't give it another klick. There's more stuff on this planet that'll take your paint off then I'd ever imagined. Sandpaper is infamous and feared around here. But the next time he came in I got spacious. He tried to tell me some line about a walk in the wood something something bla bla bla, all lies. He fell my aft! I'm old not stupid. I know the difference between fall in the woods scratches and the kind he was sporting. I should have said something right then. My life probably would have been a whole lot easier right now if I had. For whatever reason I kept MOST of my thoughts to myself, I must have had a rare old bot moment. After I sent him on his way, for or a good few hours I tried to figure out just WHO had given Prowl those scratches. I knew it wasn't anyone one the team, I would have known a long time ago if it was. Ninjas, and especially Prowl, have that whole "hide your feelings" mentality but I can see through it. They don't like getting close to anyone, which was one of the reasons I didn't see this coming. That just left the Deceptions, (but he probably would have been in pieces instead of mildly wounded because they're not known to be gentle with anything) and then the Elite Guard.
I clearly remember shaking my head when that thought crossed my mind. It's never a good idea getting mixed up with the Elite Guard. I know, sadly, from experience. Plus they have that whole rule against relationships now. That left four. I ruled out Ultra Magnus first. He's the supreme commander and older than me for Primus's sake! Doesn't mean it wasn't possible but I didn't like it at all. That left Sentinel, Jazz and Blurr. I ruled out Sentinel because it was Sentinel. Anyone that could put up with that crankshaft deserves the damn Medal of Honor. Blurr had been out doing that whole spy thing of his for both incidences which left me with only one candidate. See? Old, not stupid.
The next time Prowl was in my med bay I decided to see if I could get him to confess. One great thing about being a medic is that if you're looking at a data pad intently it makes the patient think things they normally wouldn't. Say things they normally wouldn't. It's how we medics get the truth.
"Is there something wrong Ratchet?" He asked me after a few very long moments of me looking over his chart.
You messing around with an Elite Guard is what's wrong kid! Your gonna get hurt! Is what I wanted to say.
"Just trying to make sense of things." I said with a little bit of well placed doubt in my voice.
I watched Prowl shift his weight from one leg to the other. Before this whole thing started he was never nervous, but now it was different.
"You know," I started. "I can't put my finger on it. Your scans keep coming back fine." I mumbled the last part pretending I was talking to myself.
"What about my scans?"
There he was getting defensive, just like anyone with something to hide. I flipped through a few screens before looking the kid in the optics.
"Your diagnostics say everything's fine, but something is clearly wrong with you."
"What? But I feel fine."
"Do you realize you've been here three times now in the last two weeks?"
"Yes, but I don't see…"
"You're not normally clumsy enough to hurt yourself so much. So clearly something is different."
I didn't say wrong. Bumping windshields for fun (while I'd don't agree with it) is no big deal. But if this turned into something more things were going to get complicated.
"N-no. Nothing's different. I've just been working myself to exhaustion lately."
HA! Yeah, if only that counted as "work" at lot more bots would happier with life.
"You should know better than that Prowl." I grumbled. "You're playing a dangerous game."
I had hoped Prowl might think things through. For a while I thought it worked too. Turns out he was just moping around cuz the guard left Earth. It was pathetic. He barely did anything for a while there. Except that whole disaster with Lockdown which I don't care to even think about anymore. But after that he went right back in that funk. I'll admit I felt bad for the kid… at the time. He was wondering around like a sparkling that lost his creator for the first time. He'd always be looking over his shoulder like he was expecting someone or whenever we'd get a transmission from Ultra Magnus he was always the first one to respond. You know that that old saying (yeah it's old for us Autobots too) about being careful about what you wish for? Yeah, it was another old bot moment for me. I only half wished that damn Jazz was back so Prowl would stop being so depressed all the time. Primus, for whatever reason of his, decided to grant that stupid wish.
Jazz was sent back to Earth. Since Blurr was… er… "lost in space," Magnus decided we needed some elite guard muscle to back us up. I can only imagine that Jazz was more than a willing volunteer to return. Prowl bounced right back I swear the very astrosec Jazz touched down. Damn kids and all their energy. Their happy faces really had me second guessing if I wanted to put a stop to their… whatever they had. I mean if we're really heading into another war why not let them have one good thing to hold onto? On the other servo, Jazz was a lot more likely to be terminated so it would save Prowl a lot of time and sparkache to end things before they got too serious. I decided to let them have their fun for a while longer. What could it hurt? Apparently it can hurt a lot.
Everything about that night is mostly a blur of a hazy, half booted up processor. I haven't been dragged out of my recharge for a REAL medical emergency in eons. Guess I must have got used to the quiet. For whatever reason I had the idea that I'd have another night of undisturbed rest. Somewhere mid cycle the medbay alarm started going off and I was shaken online rather roughly. When my optics finally stabilized Jazz was nearly pulling my arm out of its joint, and I'm tired of losing arms!
"WHAT IN THE NAME OF PRIMUS?!"
I was on my feet and half out to the front exam tables by the time I could start processing information. Jazz was babbling faster than Blurr (if that's even possible) as he dragged me to a table. Prowl was stretched out looking to the untrained optic like he was recharging. That wasn't the case. The main power cable in his neck had been pulled lose and left his processor on emergency power and more or less paralyzed. It took two klicks for me to put together what happened. Prowl had bite marks all over his neck and power cable. That was the final straw; I was going to have a little chat with Jazz.
After I had reconnected the power line and made sure Prowl had rebooted properly I waved Jazz to the back of the medbay. Just in case anyone decides to ever investigate this little incident, I'll leave the details of how Jazz ended up restrained on an examination table in the med bay with me standing over him with a needle. Now normally I don't abuse my medical capacities, but when I do I make it count. Jazz wriggled his hands nervously in their restraints as I tapped my finger on the syringe making the light green liquid swirl.
"What are you going to do with that?" he asked me.
Needles are scary things. Humans all think needles are so terrible, but you don't know that half of it. We Cybertronians don't get the luxury of squishy meat to soften the blow. Oh no, we get stuck tight in the most venerable parts of our anatomy. These monsters get plunged right into either a fuel or coolant line. And most medics (like myself) go for the throat lines. It's the one unarmored place we can easily get too. But it hurts like all the pits. The only thing I can compare it too is if one of you humans stuck a needle right in your eye. That's kinda' what its like. So most avoid needles to the point they'd rather rust to death then have a medic tall them they need a shot.
"I'm going to ask you a few questions and if I don't like the answer you'll be getting a precautionary dose of anti-virus software."
"I don't think you'd have to go through all this to ask little o' me a question."
I have to say, the kid's got a great attitude, he takes everything in stride with a smile. It disgusts me.
"Just what are your intentions?" I asked casually.
"Intentions? What intentions?"
"With Prowl."
"What do ya mean?"
I brought that needle down to his neck and I swear he about jumped clean out of his plating.
"Kid, I've dealt with better liars then you. So you better start talkn' before I get grumpy."
Jazz just shook his head side to side and nearly stabbed himself.
"That's classified information. Top secret."
"Oh really? Who decided that?"
"That's a secret too. He don't want me talkn' bout it."
Well he kept that secret about as well as Bumblebee. Who but Prowl wouldn't want Jazz talking about what they were doing together.
"Listen young bot, I'm old not stupid. I see what's going on between you too. I just want to know what your plans are."
Jazz still refused to talk.
"Let me put it this way, if you're just looking for a good time you'd better end it now."
Jazz still shook his head but took a quick glance at the needle by his throat.
"I'm going to count to three. If you don't tell me want… it's needle time. One… two…"
My captive tried to squirm away but I know how to restrain a patient.
"Last chance."
"I'm not talking! I promised!"
"You're REALLY willing to take a needle for him?"
Jazz nodded his head yes this time. Now look, I've been accused of not caring, but that's not the truth. I care too much and I try to distance myself to be able to do my job. But I'll be damned if these four bots haven't gotten' under my plating like a virus. I care about them like a creator would sometimes and I can't stand the thought of any of them getting hurt. So Jazz prancing in here having just hurt Prowl really ticks me off. But he won't do something against Prowl's wishes even when staring down the bane of all transformers existence. Firstly, he stands to lose a lot more if his… "liaison" with Prowl is exposed, then when he's staring down a angry medi-bot he holds to his promises. He'd have to care about Prowl a lot to make sacrifices like that.
"You care about him that much?" I asked.
"More than that." He said right back.
"And I'm just supposed to believe that?"
"I'd give up the guard for him." He flat out said that to me.
Apparently they where a lot more then friends with benefits that I had assumed they were. This was well on its way to a relationship and it was more than likely too late to undo the damage now. If you forbid something that only makes these kids what it more. Now I'd just have to let this thing take its course for better or for worse. Somehow I knew I was going to end up on the "for worse" side of things while they got the "for better." With a tad more force then was necessary I stuck the needle into a rather venerable fuel line in Jazz's throat. I let the yelp of hurt and surprise subside before I leaned in close.
"You'd better take good care of him…" I growled.
"I… will!" Jazz managed.
Damn kids.
