With how brutal the damage was, no one really recognized the bot on the table. Ratchet had to unfasten the spark chamber and hastily shut it, to the panic of his medical partner.
"Scrap, Ratchet!" First Aid shouted, holding back the diodes to connect the life support, "What—?"
"Where was this mech found?"
Ratchet couldn't keep the tremble from his voice.
"In a wrecked ship outside of Ca—."
"Leave me."
First Aid protested; of course, he would he was a good doctor, "But sir, there is no way you can handle a bot this bulky with this much damage by yourself."
"Get out," Ratchet snapped.
The fear of his temper overrode any confusion or curiosity. First Aid was too young and the datafiles didn't quite match the patient's appearance anymore. He had gone through so many changes after his resurrection and Ratchet had been content pretending he was dead. But no matter the self-inflicted cosmetic wounds or the char of fire fight, Ratchet would know that spark anywhere.
Once First Aid left in a huff and Ratchet assured all visfeeds were off and impossible to turn back on, he re-opened the spark chamber to see the purple blue swirl of Megatron's fading spark.
Most of the cosmetic wounds looked self-inflicted and gave Ratchet pause as he picked up the set aside diodes for connecting the required support.
What are you doing? He asked himself, This is the machine that mangled Cybertron and tried to destroy Earth.
He looked as well as he did the first time he offlined with sustainable damage. The scanner protested at his hesitation. Delicate systems, like a processor, could corrupt if not made right. If Ratchet was going to save him, he'd better fucking get to it.
Ratchet quickly attached the support nodes around the spark, isolating it from any feedback. He then manually opened cooling lines to alleviate any heat that would damage his internals. He quickly pulled his own line out, his medical memory not allowing him to go and find coolant elsewhere, and jettisoned an ounce of his own to make up for leaks.
Once he was cool, what mattered was getting enough treatment to stabilize the behemoth. His spark had to be balanced first. However, in Ratchet's experience it was up in the air how that would work out. Dark Energon was a Schrödinger's cat of survivability; he'd either wake up a spark-eating zombie or a worn out megalomaniac.
Ratchet wasn't too sure which he preferred.
Probably, the former.
Ratchet's servos worked quicker than ever, the wartime haste coming back to him. With a connection that wouldn't be the last, an EM field radiated outward- a good sign processor function was online. Whether or not it was fully functional was debatable, but at least he was still online.
Cycles passed as Ratchet laboriously took the task of reattaching wires, patching tubes, and restarting individual systems. Megatron's spark finally stopped flickering. Ratchet couldn't help but settle back and look over his work with a sense of pride. It had been a long time since he had single-handedly brought a mech back from the brink of off-lining and since it was Megatron, Ratchet felt like he could gloat.
Now that the haze of bringing his patient into recovery faded, Ratchet was faced with the issue of getting this humungous bastard away from the emergency ward. It wasn't as if he could strap Megatron to his back and lug him around.
No, he would strap him with the needed support unit in a scrap bag- a bag used for dead frames- and wheel him out.
Ratchet was sure an unmarked bag would be noticed, let alone an unmarked bag emhe /emwas pulling around. Ratchet, in his new role, had never lost a patient.
He hoped he didn't regret not losing this one.