Hands of a Healer
By Kesera
Movie-verse with G1 leanings.
Summary: Ratchet discovers a paramedic injured in a Decepticon attack. Can he help her recover and can she help him learn to live again?
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or any of the cannon characters. They belong to Hasbro, etc., but one can always wish for a sentient vehicle. I do own Rachel O'Bryan, the non-cannon characters and the plot.
Many thanks go to my wonderful beta, Lament of Meow, not only for looking over and correcting my grammar, punctuation and spelling, but also for her encouragement. Further thanks go to Phoenix13 ("Scent of the Future"), Litahatchee ("Night Fire"), Lady Tecuma ("Sparks and Plasma") and Karategal ("Youngling") for their inspirational stories and for permission to use some of the ideas they originated later on in this story.
Rating: T-PG13 (may go up, may not)
"blah" conversation in English
"blah" comm. conversation
:blah: conversation in Cybertronian
And now that that is all out of the way, please enjoy…
Edit: I decided to make a few minor changes to this chapter after thinking about a couple of medical points GreendEATHpop made. Thank you. I'm not a medic or an EMT, so I appreciate the input of someone who was. It just took me a little while to figure out how to make some of the changes with the least amount of alterations to the story.
Chapter 1 First Meeting
"You were right Rachel. This was the quicker way out." The male voice woke Ratchet out of a light recharge.
"Yeah, but we still need to get him down the hill, preferably before it starts raining again." Replied a higher, female voice. As Ratchet came fully back online he focus his scanners toward the voices. He had pulled into the trailhead turnout at dusk after exploring the mountainous region west of the new base. It was now full dark and he had not expected any hikers.
He could just make out through the scrub trees and under-brush, two figures coming down the trail around the imposing trunk of one of the giant trees of the area. It helped that both the male and female wore bright orange coats emblazoned with bold white letters spelling out search and rescue. They carried an injured and unconscious third male on a stretcher slug between them using an arrangement that distributed the patient's weight between the shoulders of the two rescue workers but left their hands free. Ratchet's scans revealed a fractured femur in the injured male's right leg, crush trauma to his torso and internal bleeding. As the rescue team emerged into the parking area their head lamps revealed his reflective yellow-green vehicle form.
"Buddy, this is your lucky day!" Exclaimed the male. "Here's your ride down the hill."
"What?" exclaimed the younger female. "Was there another team sent in from this side?"
"The heck if I know. If there was you would have thought we would have met them on the trail."
"Let's set him down here," the female ordered, clearly the one in charge. The pair carefully set the injured man down on a nearby picnic table. "See if it's unlocked," the female directed her co-worker, nodding toward the nearby vehicle as she began to checked over her patient.
As the male approached, Ratchet unlocked the back doors to his alt mode and allowed the man to open them. "It's open Rach."
"Good, his pressure is falling, we need to get him down the hill fast, Frank," she said removing her stethoscope from her ears and draping it around her neck. She left the pressure cuff on the patient's left arm. She would need it later.
"Key's are in the ambulance." Frank reported after opening the cab door.
"He doesn't have time to wait for the other team. We need to go, now," Rachel commented after looking back up the trail.
"Then let's get him loaded. We'll leave a note for the other team and I'll let Maude know they will need a pick-up."
Together the two loaded the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. Rachel climbed in also and proceeded to strap the patient in for the ride. She carefully examined the IV line she a previously placed in the patient's right arm, then hung the bag on a convenient hook. As she dug through the cabinets for an additional blanket, she heard Frank climb into the cab and open the door between the patient area and the cab of the ambulance.
"Ready?"
"Yes, head straight for Mercy General. Contact the trauma center and let them know we're inbound."
XX—XX
Rachel leaned against the back of the Hummer as she waited for Frank to come back out of the hospital. She was exhausted. It had been a long day, a long week for that matter, culminating in today's extraction. The dreams she'd been having the last couple of weeks had not allowed her much sleep either.
She looked up when she heard the hiss of the emergency room doors as Frank walked back out into the parking lot. "He'll make it." Rachel nodded in acknowledgment. It always felt good to know you made a difference in someone's life. "Bryan and the others got the other two men out via the Chantel trail." He added as he approached her. "No one's come looking for the ambulance. Maude said our team was the only one dispatched. Maybe it belongs to a contract independent getting in some rec time before the start of fire season."
"Maybe." Was her tired comment. It was possible. Wildland fire teams often had medic teams with them. She'd noticed that the ambulance had lacked some rather critical normal supplies, most notably a defibrillator, but they may not have completely restocked if they were just out for some fun. However, she would not have left the ambulance unlocked on a back road.
"In any case, Maude has your number. She said she would handle it then she'll send whoever may come looking your way."
"Thanks Frank." She replied with a sigh.
Frank placed a hand on her shoulder, "Get some sleep girl. You're no good to anyone as you are. Tomorrow is soon enough to worry."
A small chuckle escaped Rachel. "Yes, mother." She quipped back at the older man as she patted the hand on her shoulder. He gave her shoulder a squeeze before picking up his gear and turning to walk toward the cross walk. She turned and climbed into the cab of the borrowed ambulance. Frank waved back as he crossed the street heading toward his apartment a few blocks away. "Well, looks like you are coming home with me tonight," she commented to the dash as she ran a hand over the wheel. A symbol in the center caught her eye and she ran a light finger over it. She shook herself as she started to zone out. "Wake up Rach, you still have few more miles to go." She turned the key and the engine started with a gentle purr.
XX--XX
The morning sun was peaking over the trees and Ratchet basked in the warmth as he sat in Rachel's driveway. It was a welcome change from the previous day's rain. He'd seen to it that the exhausted woman had reached her home safely. After contacting Optimus Prime to appraise him of the situation, it had been decided that he should stay with the rescue worker for a day or two before one of their human allies would come "claim" him. It was essential to maintain their low profile and it would not help to have Ratchet reported as stolen if he just drove off.
A jogger dressed in navy blue shorts and t-shirt with "Fire Dept" stenciled across the back came down the empty street. He slowed and paused noticing the chartreuse Hummer. Ratchet kept on optic on him as the man walked up beside him looking over his vehicle form. He paused by the driver's door to look up at the windows of the house. "I hope whoever you belong to is treating her right." The man said. "She needs someone." Leaving Ratchet to ponder those remarks the man turned and continued his morning run.
About an hour later, the garage door opened revealing Rachel dressed in jean cutoff shorts, a teal sleeveless top, and sandals. She appraisingly eyed the Hummer in front of her. "Well, let's get you cleaned up. I'm not returning you in this state. If I hadn't been so tired I would have done this last night." The vehicle was covered in mud. She had hated to leave the ambulance in that sorry condition the night before. Emergency vehicles were always cleaned upon return to the station in preparation for the next call out. What patient would trust the medic that showed up to help them in a filthy vehicle?
Ratchet realized that the woman intended to wash him. He was not opposed to this idea. He wanted to get clean. The dried mud was itchy. Ratchet studied her more closely as she puttered in the garage. She was fair skinned, with deep green eyes and wavy, reddish-brown hair that was cut in a short, no-nonsense simple style. He believed she could be considered quite attractive by human standards, but she was not a model-type beauty like Mikaela. She had more muscle mass and the trim, lithe figure of an athlete.
Rachel returned from the far end of the garage with two buckets, one filled with soapy water and the other filled with various supplies. She set these down in front of the Hummer and walked over to retrieve a garden hose from the side of the house. She then went back into the garage and took a step ladder down off the wall and positioned it beside the Hummer.
Taking up the hose she sprayed the vehicle down, rinsing off the worst of the mud. Then pulling a wash mitt from the supply bucket and dunking it in the soapy water she started on the front of the Hummer. Ratchet was pleasantly surprised at the warm soap and relaxed into the washing. Rachel found the latches that released the front brush guard, tilting it forward to allow better access to clean the front grill and hood. She continued along the passenger side, pausing at the door. The same symbol that adored the steering wheel was also centered in the shield on the door. She mentally shrugged. It must be the logo for the independent who owned the ambulance. She continued washing down the passenger side, paying particular attention to getting the grit and mud out of the wheel wells with the help of a brush and elbow grease.
Ratchet held back the contented purr he could feel building in his engine. This felt so good. She seemed to know all the right places to apply just a little more pressure. She even made sure to get the grit out of his door jams. He watched her climb up the ladder and almost groaned as she began stroking the wash mitt over his cab roof. He was sure that the sudden rumble of his engine would startle her right off the ladder, and clamped down on the urge. He felt her remove the shovel, fire axe and high-lift jack attached to his roof and lay them aside. She continued washing around the back of his alt form and up the driver's side. Once she had hosed off the last of the soap, she toweled him dry. She then cleaned the fire axe, jack and shovel, returned them to his roof, and closed and locked the brush guard back in place.
After dumping out the soap bucket and coiling the hose back away, she came back with a soft hand broom and dust pan and cleaned up the small pebbles, dried mud and forest debris that had been tracked onto his floor boards. That done, she returned to her supply bucket and retrieved a spray bottle and a soft rag. Climbing into the rear of the Hummer she proceeded to wipe down every surface in the "patient" area of the ambulance with the mild disinfectant. Ratchet greatly appreciated her thoroughness.
She returned once again to her bucket of supplies and came up with a bottle of leather cleaner and another clean rag. With these in hand she climbed into his cab. This time Ratchet couldn't suppress the shudder that ran through his frame as she wiped down his dash and seats.
Rachel paused in her cleaning of the cab at the slight shake she had felt. Earthquake? Mild one, but strong enough to rock the vehicle, and not unusual for the area. She climbed back out of the cab and proceeded to put away her cleaning supplies. She looked back over her work on the Hummer. Much better she thought and stretched, reaching her hands over her head, then hissed at a sudden pain in her side.
Ratchet heard her soft hiss of pain and watched as she pulled up her shirt, revealing a large, roughly oval scar covering her left side, from her hip to just below her bra line. Focusing his medical scanners he could tell that the wound was a recently healed burn, nine, maybe ten months old at most. But what really got his attention was the faint energy traces that could have only come from a Cybertronian weapon. How had this woman gotten such a wound? It was too old to have been from Mission City. As he did a more complete scan he saw traces of multiple lacerations, contusions and a healing fracture in her left forearm all about the same age as the burn. Somewhere, this woman had an encounter with another Cybertronian, and it was not a pleasant one.