How I imagine events played out in the Transformers Prime Episode "Sick Mind". For some reason after seeing this episode, I felt like describing this horrible illness that was killing Optimus. Just in terms of me being a writer, the emotions that could have played out were just too tempting.
I took a few liberties with the timeline here, spreading out the period between getting the formula for the cure and the actual cure over a few days.
I don't own Transformers.
...
Optimus gasped as he felt the infected energon, cold and deadly, drip onto his optics and leech its way into energon lines, his body absorbing it like a sponge.
"No." Ratchet's optics widened in horror as he watched his leader and one of his best friends succumb to the virus. It was quick acting, he could see that. Optimus recovered from the initial shock, glad his battle mask could hide his grimace.
Megatron had designed the virus to be extremely painful, attacking neural circuitry as it slowly infected all of the energon in one's body. He was down on one knee, clamping down on the infected optic.
"Ratchet...request a ground bridge." he said through gritted teeth.
That brought the medic out of his horrified stupor. He activated his comm link. "Arcee, bridge us back." He tried to help Optimus up, but the Prime refused with a shake of his head.
"There is a risk of you becoming infected as well." he argued, as the ground bridge flashed into existence.
"Then that's a risk I'm going to have to take." Ratchet replied, coming under Optimus's arm and shifting most of his weight onto himself. "I am a medic, after all."
"But-"
"You need to save your strength." They passed through the portal.
...
"Primus." Bumblebee had a look of absolute horror. "What happened?"
Bulkhead made his way over to Ratchet and Optimus to help them to the berth.
"The 'Cons didn't get a jump on you, did they?" asked Miko, punching the palm of her hand.
"No. The Autobot distress signal was from a plague ship that crashed long ago. Optimus...was infected," Ratchet replied, his voice heavy with defeat, "with a virus. I'm not sure which one yet. But it's bad."
"Then what happened to his eye?" Raf wanted to know. He had noticed it when Optimus had been sat down on the berth.
"That's where the infected energon came into contact with him. The entry point, if you will." Ratchet cast a concerned glance over Optimus. "The virus is already causing damage."
"You can fix him, right?"
"This is a virus, Raf. Does a bandage do anything for you when you're sick?"
"Oh."
"If we were lucky, it would be a virus easily eradicated by our immune systems. But by all appearances, this virus is potentially deadly. Let's just hope it's one I can cure." He had found the scanner he was looking for.
"By the Allspark." he murmured.
"What is it, Ratchet?" Optimus asked. His voice had obviously weakened.
"Cybonic plague," Ratchet announced, "only contagious if contact is made with the infected energon."
"But what was a plague doing in an autobot spaceship?"
"Its passengers were infected. The virus wiped out millions on Cybertron during The Great War."
"Cybonic plague was engineered in the decepticon biological warfare program. By Megatron himself."
"You... have a cure, don't you?"
Optimus sighed. "No cure." He was having a difficult time speaking at his normal volume.
"Optimus, please. Save your strength." Ratchet's voice was wavering on helplessness. He could patch up any bot, in almost any condition. But for this... he was powerless.
...
The base was much more solemn than usual. The TV wasn't on, the radio wasn't blaring, the video games remained in their cases, Miko's guitar lay abandoned, and she was actually quiet. The three kids were sitting next to Optimus, leaning up against his leg. He was glad for their companionship. Meanwhile, Ratchet was simultaneously monitoring his condition and Bumblebee and Arcee's progress.
"Ratchet... were you..."
"Infected? No."
He sighed and rested his head back on the berth. "And Bulkhead?"
"I'm fine, Optimus."
At Bulkheads' words, his body visibly relaxed, allowing himself to actually rest on the berth.
Ratchet and Arcee began snapping at each other again.
"Well, search again! Clearly you missed something!"
Ratchet suddenly growled in frustration and punched the reinforced steel wall, the structure buckling and making a fist-shaped dent. Jack, noticing this, motioned for the three of them to leave, Raf giving Optimus one last pat on his armor. Optimus' eyes flickered as he gave a small smile, understanding perfectly.
The one thing that the virus didn't wreak havoc with was your mind, but that in its own way was a blessing. The only thing that could possibly more painful than watching your leader die would be watching you leader die and lose his sanity.
...
"You're dying, Optimus. How can I not feel like a failure? It should have been me."
"Why... would you... say that? You are just as important to our cause as anyone."
"You are the only one who ever stood a chance against Megatron. If he survives and you don't..."
"That does not make you a failure." his voice had been reduced to a whisper, but still retained its deep baritone and calm, empathetic subtleties. "I do not wish to die yet, but if that is my fate, I have no choice but to accept it."
"It should have been me." Ratchet growled, visibly shaking.
"No, it shouldn't have." Bulkhead's tone commanded attention. Ratchet turned tormented optics towards him. "This shouldn't have happened to anyone, let alone Optimus."
"But it did." Ratchet countered, inconsolable.
"Exactly. Now we're going to figure out how to get our afts out of it. Wishing that you were the one suffering instead of him isn't doing anything. You're going to help Bumblebee through this."
"Bulkhead's right." Raf said. "Bee needs your help." Ratchet managed his first smile of the day.
"Well, what are you waiting for, doc-bot?" Miko shouted impatiently. "Get going!"
"Please." Optimus added, silently making an agreement with the older medic. I won't give up if you won't.
Ratchet turned to the monitor with new resolve.
"You'll have to enter Megatron's mind via cortical psychic patch."
...
Raf stood silently watching Ratchet frantically adjusting the ingredients in the cure for Optimus. But to no avail. He tested the cure with some sort of device Raf had never seen before.
"Scrap!" He hissed. In his haste, he had missed a crucial part of the equation, would have to start over. "Of all the fragging stupid things to do..." He continued muttering under his breath, rubbing his palms over his optics.
At that point, Jack walked in, toting a giant get well card from Bulkhead and Miko. "What's with him?" Jack whispered to Raf, glancing at the sulking medic.
"I think he messed up a little on the cure for Optimus."
"Ah," he replied, noting that Ratchet had launched into one of his full-blown rants, cursing himself for making a mistake. "I'll talk to him if you'll give this to Optimus." he told Raf, handing the card to him with some difficulty. Raf nodded, deciding that of the occupants of the base (available), Jack was the best option.
Only a day after becoming infected, Optimus had gone from bad to very bad. He was hooked up to an energon drip to replace some of the infected fuel, in an attempt to hold off the inevitable and provide a little relief from the pain the infection caused. His right optic was barely online, the site of infection completely darkened. It was worse when you looked at him overall, his normally bright colors faded.
He was also starting to cough up faded purplish energon, leaking out of his damaged air vents.
Optimus was in quarantine from the rest of the base. This wasn't fun for any of the bots, especially Ratchet. He had to put up with the other three begging, literally begging, to be let in (especially Bumblebee), if only for a minute, just to see him, and on and on and on.
The kids, not being cybertronian (and therefore immune to cybonic plague), could come and go as they pleased, as long as they didn't touch anything. So now, a small pile of get well cards and other small gifts from the team were stacked up next the berth.
Raf walked in on a not-quite asleep Optimus. He seemed unable to actually sleep, even though he desperately needed it. Of course, he had been sleeping in his own berth for years, but Primus knows that the only thing less fun than being sick is being sick and alone.
So it was a relief when Raf came in through the human-sized door. He placed the card in the pile and struggled up onto the berth so he could sit next to Optimus.
Optimus tried to say something to Raf, but his words were lost as coughing drowned out his vocalizer. When it finally subsided, Raf made his way over to his head.
"Optimus?" he asked, scared for the autobot leader. Optimus responded with a quiet groan, not quite ready to try talking again. "It's okay, Ratchet's almost done with the cure," he assured him, more for himself than Optimus. He moved to leave.
"Rafael..." Raf glanced back. "...Stay?"
Raf was stunned. Not only was that the shortest sentence that Prime had ever said, but he was also asking for comfort in the process. His answer was easy, of course.
"Sure, Optimus. I'll stay." Raf leaned up against his leg and pulled out his laptop. "But Ratchet said that you have to get some sleep."
...
"Uh, Ratchet?"
"For Primus's sake, what?"
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." he growled.
"Raf said you were frustrated, and well, I decided to talk you out of it."
"Oh," he replied, rather lamely, realizing that Jack wasn't implying that making the cure somehow left him susceptible to illness as well, like the three autobots had been doing. "You... could say that I am."
Borrowing a tactic from his his mom, he prompted, "Well, would you like to talk about it?"
"No."
"Do you think it would help if you talked about it?"
Ratchet gave an exasperated sigh. "I'm busy right now. I'm working on a cure for Optimus that I cannot mess up! I need to correct the formula soon, because in case you hadn't noticed, he's dying, and there are too many ways this cure can go wrong, even in my hands!"
"I noticed." he commented dryly. "Ratchet, all of us care. Even us 'squishy' humans."
Ratchet sighed again, deciding to switch to a different tactic."Well, you aren't helping me hanging around here. So could you please just go somewhere else?"
"You know, my mom says when she needs a break but can't take one, she just steps back and takes a deep breath, clears her head and looks at the problem as a whole. It seems to work for her."
"Yes, yes, sure." Ratchet brushed him off. "Now go."
Jack shrugged and sauntered out, leaving Ratchet alone.
He pretended to work until he was absolutely certain he was alone. With something like a shrug, he stepped away from the table and sat down. Cycling his cooling vents very slowly a few times, and finding it therapeutic, he leaned back, focusing on moving the air slowly in and out over and over again. His mind began to clear, finally free of the swirling numbers he had subjected his attention to for the past day. He allowed himself five more minutes of rest before correcting the formula.
...
"Arcee? Bumblebee? Bulkhead? The cure's ready."
Bumblebee glanced up from his sitting position on the floor, new hope sparking in his optics.
"Good." Arcee had a rare smile on her face. "Bumblebee didn't go into Megatron's mind for nothing."
Bulkhead laughed. "I doubt Ratchet would allow that. He's the most stubborn bot you will ever meet, besides Optimus himself."
"Were not in the clear just yet. We need to administer the cure."
It was Monday afternoon, the kids wouldn't be back from school for another hour and a half. It would give him just enough time to give Optimus the cure and clean up the place, knowing that there were several potentially explosive implements and numerous delicate tools scattered around his work area. But first, Optimus. Ratchet loaded the vial of the cure, noting that it was a few shades brighter than energon, glowing intensely bright.
"Ratch! Hurry!" Bee whined.
Ratchet wasted no time, unceremoniously injecting the cure into an energon line. Optimus' optics briefly opened in surprise before flickering off again. He shuddered slightly and then was still.
They all stood around in silence for a few moments.
"What now?" Bulkhead wondered.
"We wait." Ratchet sighed, turning out of the room to get some much-needed rest. "Come get me if he wakes up or gets worse."
...
"Is something wrong, old friend?" Optimus watched from his spot on the berth as Ratchet read monitors and recorded data.
"No." Ratchet replied stubbornly. But his expression (and unnecessary roughness with his equipment) betrayed his true emotions. The medic was sullen, upset, frustrated, and exhausted. He would have liked nothing more than to forget the past three days. If only it had been him to get that slagging virus. He hated seeing Optimus weak and in pain, even though he knew full well that he wasn't invulnerable.
"I do not believe that is the case."
Ratchet heaved a sigh. The Prime knew him far too well.
Optimus allowed a tiny smile to make itself known. He understood that Ratchet had figured out how to take responsibility for the whole incident, even though his infection had been purely accidental, if not his own fault.
"Did you get sufficient recharge last night?"
"Well...No," Ratchet had woken up after five hours of rest and taken the night watch. It was now four in the afternoon, and he hadn't so much as sat down since he had started working.
"Then I would advise you do so now." Optimus replied. "I must admit, I am rather concerned for your well-being."
"My well being?" He stuttered. "Optimus, you nearly died! You still could! I'm not certain if the cure was strong enough... there are so many things that could have and still might go wrong!"
"I have complete faith in your medical expertise. I believe I will make a full recovery."
"I-"
Ratchet gave up. Years of practice arguing and debating with almost everyone were no substitution for when Optimus was right.
"Arcee, Bumblebee, Bulkhead, come and get me if anything happens. And I mean anything."
And with that, Ratchet went for recharge, barely making it to the berth before his optics closed.
...
Ratchet checked the time and cursed. It was eight in the morning and they hadn't bothered to wake him? He stormed out into the main room, yelling, "Why didn't anyone come get me? Bumblebee, I told you to relive me three hours ago!"
Bumblebee put his hands up in a universal sign of surrender. "I don't remember you telling me that." he confessed, confusion flickering across his face. "Besides, nothing bad happened."
"Has Optimus refueled?" Ratchet turned to Arcee, switching into medic mode.
"Um, no. He just woke up. He did say something about contacting Agent Fowler, though."
It took Ratchet a couple of seconds to process this. Then: "WHAT? His systems are recovering from a virus! His only concerns should be refueling and rest, in that order!"
"I would have refueled earlier, Ratchet, except I am unable to get energon for myself."
"I'll get it. And don't even think about moving."
"He can't walk, remember?" Arcee's smirk followed Ratchet out the door.
Ratchet growled and made his way to storage.
...
Sooo... Yeah. Just a one shot. Review, don't review, doesn't matter. I just wanted to do something like this.