Out of all mechs, Ratchet never wanted it to be this mech. He always knew that this would happen, knew that something bad would happen to him because he was a front liner. But he never thought that it would be this bad. It nearly broke his spark, seeing his "crush" like this; there was a good reason to it, Optimus tried to explain, however the medic wouldn't take it; saying that unless you had a problem FirstAid, Perceptor, Jetfire, or Wheeljack couldn't fix - even with combined forces - that you were not allowed in his med bay. This was urgent, and he didn't want any distractions. However, the sight that lay before him was more of a distraction than ever.
Ironhide lay motionless on the med berth, practically covered in Engergon. His chassis was near torn open, safe the protective cover that was supposed to withstand just about anything. Any longer and with any more brute force, and who ever was trying to kill him would have gotten right to his spark in a manner of klicks and done so. His left arm and his right leg from the knee down were pretty much hanging by very thin wires. His right side starting from the top of his "rib cage" al the way down to a little past his hip was torn open, however it was thank Primus that Energon had stopped leaking from that area. And of course, several gashes everywhere on his body from where he had gotten hit from the blast Optimus said he took for him. Primus, Ironhide sure as the Pit could do some stupid things, but he had never come so close as to taking his own life.
Ratchet honestly thought that, because of the feelings he had towards Ironhide, and his current condition, that he would be unable to fully help the mech and would end up letting him die. But it was quite the opposite; Ratchet didn't know how long he worked, hooking up an Energon line to him. He had subconsciously remembered that people - he couldn't recall nor realize who they were - were constantly coming in and telling him to slow down and take a break, however Ratchet refused to; saying that the next person to come in and tell him that would have a bomb to the head of the next person that so much of thought of coming in here to tell him that. Soon everyone stopping coming all together, minus FirstAid - he guessed that it was him - coming in and grabbing stuff to work on people in Wheeljack's lab. Which was fine by Ratchet; his "intern" never bothered him when he did so.
So long after starting, Ratchet was nearly done; a lot of the major cuts and openings that Ironhide had originally had were now stitched up, leaving only a few small scratches and gouges that they themselves were already healing because of Ironhide's own systems. Ratchet couldn't dent that he was exhausted, however had been unable to give up due to the fact that he didn't want Ironhide to die. Being a medic, it was so hard to let people die, because in the current war, a lot of your friends died and it was hard to cope with. Sometimes he felt like no one understood his job; it seemed harder than even the Prime's, having to let people die because you couldn't save them. It was so depressing; it was a wonder Ratchet hadn't offlined himself yet.
"Ratchet, are you alright?" came a voice from behind; Ratchet barely had time to register that he had managed to pretty much collapse in a chair nearby Ironhide's berth before making it swivel around to face who had spoke to him. FirstAid stood, looking nervous, a few DataPads in hand and up as if any moment the CMO would suddenly attack him. Ratchet tried to smile at that thought.
"Yes, yes, I'm alright," Ratchet said as he leaned back in the chair, realizing how hoarse his voice had sounded. How long had he been at work again?
"I-I know the others have been telling you this," stuttered out the intern medic, taking a brave step forward, "b-but you really can't keep working on Ironhide with so little recharge. You know Wheejack will come over if something goes wrong. Plus, you've fixed all of his major injuries already, right? So you shouldn't have anything to worry about, right?"
Ratchet thought for a moment, and almost wanted to grab the nearest wrench and throw it at his unsuspecting friend, however he had to admit that he felt too tired to. And, although he didn't trust Wheeljack with helping fix up stuff because he often blow up anything he touched, he knew that 'Jack would wake up if he heard Ironhide's monitor's go off. He was right next door, after all. Giving a defeated sigh, Ratchet nodded.
"Alright, alright, I will," he said, weakfuly standing on his peds. "But if anyone needs to come in here-"
"Have them come to myself, Wheeljack, Perceptor or Jetfire, unless we together cannot fix the problem, then we'll call you," FirstAid said, which Ratchet thought he remembered by heart; he didn't want to put it against him.
"Thanks, Aid," Ratchet thanked, smiling.
"Oh, no problem, boss," Aid replied happily, turning to leave. "I'll bring you a cube of Engergon when I'm done with Sunny, alright? Got his arm torn off by Skywarp again."
Ratchet gave a groan of displeasure at the thought of Sunny tearing his arm off again, and later the medic having fix it. FirstAid heard this just as he made his exit out of the med bay, and gave a hearty laugh as he walked out, the doors sliding shut behind him. FirstAid was a good kid, Ratchet knew; a little shy and sometimes a little scared when it actually came to working like Ratchet did on terribly injured patients - especially those who are close friends - and a few dying on him occasionally. But there was one thing good about 'Aid that no one could deny; he had a big spark. It had probably been his mission to come in and check on his teacher after a while of being in there, to make sure that he went into recharge for a little while, which Ratchet would. Sometimes, he could never see how Mirage ever dated him, yet the two were still a couple, no matter how much they went through. First Aid was an honest mech, and almost a gullible one as well.
Ratchet was a good liar, he had to give himself that; before he went to his office to lay down on his personal berth, he pushed the chair he was sitting in over to the berth that Ironhide lay on, wanting to check him over. The big brute was still fast asleep due to the anesthetics and his own stasis lock kicking on before he got back to base, which was a good thing; Ratchet didn't want a yelling, trashing, injured bot in his med bay while he tried to work on him. Therefore, Ratchet had made sure that he would stay in it long enough for him to finish his work; he was planning on taking off the anesthetics in the morning, and let them slowly wear off so his natural hardware and repairing systems kick him. So the medic had slowly downed the dose little by little, still giving him enough to stay asleep through the night.
Speaking of sleep, as Ratchet slowly finished checking up on the medical-induced stasis, he didn't realize that he himself was slowly drifting off into sleep himself. For a moment he realized that he was not going to make it to his berth, and as he was almost done, he thought to himself that it would be fine to just rest there a moment and then try to stand up and go to berth. Gently he laid his helm right next to Ironhide's resting arm and servo, Ratchet putting his own arms under his helm to try and get comfortable. He was going to rest his helm for only a little while, however he didn't realize that he had completely fallen into a deep recharge until it was too late; then there was no going back.