Cosmic Balancing

Yes, another one-shot. Rated for poor First Aid about three-quarters of the way down.

This is one that's probably been done before, but I hope I'm being original enough to amuse some of you at least. Ratchet wanted love from me, but he wanted to mope, and the other muses didn't feel like it, so it's a horrible clashing of angst and humour. Hope you like it anyways.

Cosmic Balancing

"So then, if this theory of yours applies to everything, why does your entire world not have a balance unequalled throughout the universe?"

"That's why it's a theory, Bee. It only works sometimes."

Bumblebee started to argue that Sam's point made very little sense, but thought better of it. If there was one thing he had learned in his years on Earth, it was that human beings very rarely made any amount of sense.

"So then we are actually betting on whether this theory applies to Mikayla and Ratchet?"

Sam paused.

"Pretty much, yeah."

"I see."

There was silence for a few minutes, with the exception of the occasional groan of somebody's piston moving. Sam looked over to where Ironhide was apparently dozing. He had no idea if he was actually dozing or not, or indeed, if there was even a robot equivalent, but that's what it looked like anyways.

And he would bet what little savings money he had that Ironhide was trying very, very hard to ignore them.

It was because of their conversation, you see…

Well, that and the fact that Bumblebee had actually figured out a way to play cards with Sam. Ironhide had probably figured it was better just not to know.

What was their conversation about, per say? Let's rewind a bit to the relevant points…

HOW MUCH WOOD COULD A WOOD CHUCK CHUCK IF A WOOD CHUCK COULD CHUCK WOOD?

"… So then because Mikayla is chronically early, and Ratchet's chronically late, if they come together, they should theoretically come on time." Sam finished with a flourish. Bumblebee was looking at him like he was insane.

"That doesn't make any sense at all, why would-" Ironhide didn't get it, and Sam told him so.

"It's like having a fast runner and a slow runner on the same track. The slow runner tries harder to keep up and the fast runner slows down to be nice, so they balance each other out"

Ironhide stared down at the little human for a full two seconds, contemplated the idea of squishing him and/or his dog (if only as a reflex action), and then turned away, determined to ignore the conversation from that point on.

Which brings us, more or less, to where we are now. Bee and Sam playing cards (I'm not sure myself on how they're managing that), and Ironhide a little ways away, studiously ignoring them.

Well, that's kind of boring. Shall we go see the subjects of their conversation?

PETER PIPER PICKED A PECK OF PICKLED PEPERS

Prime looked up at the narrator and promptly glared at her.

Oops. Sorry Prime. Wrong scene.

IF PETER PIPER PICKED A PECK OF PICKLED PEPERS, WHERE ARE THE PICKLED PEPERS PETER PIPER PICKED IF NO ONE CAN FIND PETER PIPERS PICKLED PEPERS?

Ah, here we are. Mikayla's… Oh wait, no, wrong again. Seems we're a little late, as Ratchet and Mikayla are already hanging out at the lake, wasting time until they have to meet Sam and Bumblebee.

Which means it's time to stop being funny. This is where we get a little more serious.

It was dark out already, the sun having just set beyond the horizon. The lakefront was completely empty, and Ratchet felt it safe to unfold into his own form. Mikayla stood by patiently. He looked down at the diminutive human, a little more grumpy then usual at having to go out of his way to come here. There was silence for a few short moments.

"If you have something to say, you would do best to say it while I still have the patience."

Mikayla was looking up at him thoughtfully; contemplating something he had no knowledge to. Indeed, he often wondered whether he really wanted to know what went through her processors on a regular basis. There were just some beings (organic and otherwise) that he just couldn't figure out.

Not that he was a physiologist or anything.

"You just seem… Troubled." She answered finally. He squared the human with a look, and then sat down on the grass, several meters away from where Mikayla was standing. She followed his example.

"And what, exactly, would make you say that?" He answered, trying to seem disinterested. Mikayla noted that he neither accepted nor refuted the accusation. She shrugged.

"Just a feeling. Woman's intuition, if you please." Ah, more human myths and concepts. No wonder he hadn't seen this one coming.

"Actually, you all seem a little troubled.." She gave a brief pause. "And probably with good reason, but.." She trailed off, and looked up at him. "You just seem.. More so." She wasn't sure where to go with it after that, and let it hang. Silence reigned.

"We.. We are all very troubled.." Ratchet gave in. "We have lost much."

"..Jazz?" Mikayla ventured when she was sure he wasn't going to say more.

"Including Jazz." He said. Mikayla nodded in understanding. Until recently, they had been fighting a war. Loss was probably not at all uncommon to them.

More silence, and a few stars glimmered into view.

"You know you can always talk about it, if you like." Lord knew she would have, and did, talk her little heart out after she'd lost her mother. Talking she found helped relieve the mind and soul of what was bothering it, or at least, it did in some people.

"Why me? I am not the only Autobot here affected by loss. It is unfortunately well known to all of us." Was his curt response.

"You feel responsible for it." It was a stab in the dark for Mikayla, but an accurate one if Ratchet's sudden expression was to judge. He relaxed after a moment enough to make his reply.

"Why would you say that?"

"You're their medical officer, aren't you?" An affirming nod. "It hurts you more because you think you should've been able to save him."

It was another uncannily accurate stab in the dark for Mikayla. She didn't really want to dreg up painful memories, as she knew she was surely doing, but she felt that at this point, this was the only way she could help.

"You are.. Very perceptive for your young age." He admitted quietly. "Though I do not believe it hurts the others any less then it hurts myself."

"You still feel responsible for it."

Knowing she still had more to say, he waited patiently. She continued soon enough.

"I've.. Heard that it's not uncommon for doctors to feel accountable for the people and lives under their care, and I thought that it was probably not entirely different from you. You're their doctor, so you should be able to fix everything, so it hurts you when you can't. Even when there wasn't really anything you could do in the first place, you still feel like you should've been able to do something." She took a long, deep breath. "Am I right?"

All too right. He did not answer her verbally. Just looked up at the stars and wished, not for the first time, that he could be home. Before the war. Before everything.

"And I doubt Jazz is the first." The silence had stretched into many minutes until Mikayla had broken it.

"No." Ratchet answered wistfully. "He's not."

Ratchet had been chosen for Prime's mission specifically because he was the best functioning medic that was still alive. He was alive because he had learned to fight. He had known many –far too many- that had refused, and eventually paid the price.

Many medics had refused to fight.

Many medics had died.

It went against the medic's programming to take life instead of give it, Ratchet's decision to fight in order to survive had been on fraught with difficulty, and one he found himself regretting on more then one occasion. It felt like it got harder every time he had to. He hoped that with the loss of the Allspark, the fighting would end.

It was a fool's hope, but a hope nonetheless.

Jazz was only the latest in a long line of brave Autobots that had fallen under his care. Too long a list, he found, one he avoided thinking about if he could.

Before Jazz had been Arcee. Also chosen for Prime's mission to find the Allspark, she had been killed by Barricade mere light-years away from their target galaxy- this one.

Before the mission he had been a field medic, one of the best, so claimed by a number of his patients. Yet he still lost so many, many he had not known, nor would ever know.

He remembered when he had first chosen to fight as well, rather then be slaughtered like the other medics who refused. Cybertron had still been alive at the time, and it's life forms still abundant.

Which was why the Decepticons weren't picky with who they picked off. Autobot, neutral, medic, it didn't matter at that point. Ratchet had decided to fight the moment that Decepticon had skewered First Aid. There wasn't turning back after that.

He'd barely made it out of that first encounter functioning. The Decepticon wasn't so lucky. Ratchet had only been lucky because he had taken the Decepticon by surprise.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Ratchet looked down at Mikayla, who was staring up at him with a combination of motherly assurance and pity on her face.

She didn't understand, nor did he want her to, the absolute horrors of their war. She had seen a glimpse, a tiny peek, at Mission city. He hoped she would never have to see any more then that. He was built to preserve life, not take it. He hoped she would never have to make so difficult a choice.

He got up, and moved to the road, transforming as he moved onto the pavement. Mikayla looked like she thought she was being brushed off, and wasn't too happy about it, but too polite to say anything.

"Did you not say you had a date with Sam? You will be late if we do not go now." His tone was heavy, but neither harsh nor cold. Mikayla took as an unspoken agreement and nodded, climbing into the vehicle.

".. Sorry."

"For what?"

"I just realized that maybe.. There're things just better left unsaid."

Ratchet gave a wry chuckle.

"Only in the same way that there are some things that need to be spoken to be understood."

Mikayla grinned.

"Thanks, Ratchet."

"You're welcome."

SHE SELLS SEA SHELLS BY THE SEA SHORE

Sam watched the duo of Ratchet and Mikayla pull up with a growing amount of glee. Almost exactly nine o'clock! It was most definitely a case of cosmic balancing. Bumblebee eyed him skeptically.

"You do know that, technically, it is 8:56?"

"That's not the point 'Bee."

"I know."

"I win."

"Not technically."

"Call it a draw?"

"Sure."