The rude awakening that greeted Ratchet the next morning was as startling as a surprise attack on the Autobot base. His heart was pounding in his chest as he rushed to redress in the uniform he had pulled off in the dark while trying to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. The handful that he bunked with were already up and dressed, in the process of putting on their boots. Seeing that they were leaving their jackets behind he followed their example, grunting as he pulled on his boots. Why were they even getting up so early?
Following the group out, he lined up with them as they joined up with the larger mass of the unit. Their commanding officer called them into attention before he began issuing orders. Despite how he felt about the issue Ratchet went along with it, determined to work past the embarrassment his current predicament was causing him and prove his point.
The group went through varying exercises, all of which Ratchet had observe Elita doing every morning when they shared a base. He thought it was rather silly of her to go through such activities when her enhanced form made her more physically capable for anything she might encounter. Soon the Autobot medic found his muscular structure burning with pain. What was it with humans torturing themselves with such frivolous activities? At least their commander was right there with them, doing the same tortuous exercises as his men.
The sun was just beginning to light the sky when they all began their morning run. The Autobot was already sore, tired, and now his clothing was soaked and sticking to his body. Honestly, clothing was a huge pain. As the sun illuminated the area around them, Ratchet let himself fall behind the group, doing his best to ignore the sharp pain building up in his side while it only added to his long list of short comings about human bodies.
It took him a little while to realize that someone was running right beside him, keeping perfect pace with him. Glancing over he was a bit surprised to see Elita running beside him, her skin covered in a soft blue. She gently reached out, pulling on his arm to get him to stop so he could catch his breath.
"You're pushing yourself too hard," she told him, offering him a canteen. "Take it slowly right now. No one is expecting perfection out of you."
Ratchet slowly took the canteen from her hand, hearing the gentle tone in her voice as she repeated the very same words he had told her when she first gained her true Cybertronian form. Quickly he gulped down some of the water, exhaling a pleased sigh at how good it felt on his sore throat as he passed it back to her. Once he felt he was ready they began their run once again.
Optimus was waiting for the group when they had returned from their run. At first he was concerned about the two missing Autobots until the unit commander had informed him that Elita had stayed behind to aid Ratchet in the morning run, her usual action for every new member of their team. When the pair finally made it through, Prime became very concerned over the condition his medic was in.
Ratchet was breathing heavily, leaning forward as he braced himself with his hands on his knees again. "Its like this … every morning?" he gasped out.
"Pretty much," Elita smirked as she offered the canteen again. "Since the others ran a head I took us through a short cut that cut off a few miles. Hopefully you'll be back to your fully metallic self before you get use to this."
He looked up at her as if she had two heads, trying to figure out if she was joking with him or not. He missed her humor, even if at the moment he was the butt of her jokes. "Right … "
She took the now empty canteen back from him, now that he was upright and not nearly as red in the face since he had a chance to catch his breath. "Come on. Optimus is here and you'll miss out on breakfast if we don't hurry."
Ratchet's head shot up, his eyes full of hope that his dear friend was there to tell him that Tracks had completed the repairs and he could get his body back. As they walked over to where the Autobot leader knelt down for them Ratchet became rather embarrassed that he had to do the meeting now. His clothing was soaked with sweat, making it stick and rub against is skin in the most uncomfortable ways. Plus it smelt terrible. The sooner things got back to normal the better.
Optimus was concerned at how red faced and wet his medic looked, Ratchet appearing as if he was angry and had been out in the rain. The Autobot leader knew that the humans ran through physical training every morning, but he had never seen any of them look this bad.
"Please tell me that Tracks has finished fixing my body," Ratchet pleaded.
"I am afraid not, Ratchet." As he watched his medic's shoulders drop in defeat Optimus gave a slight frown. "How are you doing, old friend?"
"I'll be polite in not vocalizing the obvious flaws to the human form," the medic made a large motion with his arms about his current condition, but then turned a somewhat annoyed look to Elita. "I wish you would fix the issue with my fluid waste disposal hose."
The concern for her friend showed openly on her face as she focused on Ratchet. "What's wrong?"
"It keeps randomly seizing up. It's painful and extremely annoying."
Optimus, too was concerned, but when he looked back at Elita he noticed that she was holding her hand over her face, which was turning a very dark red behind her hand. "Is this an issue you are able to assist him with?"
"I am so not touching this …" she mumbled behind her hand. Taking a deep breath, she finally lowered her hand, but her blush remained. "Nothing's wrong Ratchet. You are apparently in ideal health for … that sort of thing."
"What sort of thing?" the medic demanded.
"Something that I'm hoping you'll be back in your original body long before it becomes a serious topic again." She cleared her throat rather harshly, trying to cool her blush as she avoided looking either one of them in the eye. "Why don't you go get washed up and get some breakfast. It'll help you feel better."
Ratchet walked off, mumbling about the lack of answers and responsibility she was taking in regards to the current predicament of his body she had placed him in. Honestly, it was her fault that it was acting like it was.
With another deep breath, she was able to push the more embarrassing subject out of mind before she looked back up at Optimus. "How are the repairs going, by the way?"
"Tracks feels as if he would be able to utilize most of the parts from your larger structure, but he is trying to see what parts of Ratchet's own form he can salvage in hopes of allowing both of you to be fully repaired."
"Tell him not to worry about my form. I probably wouldn't be able to use it anymore anyways. If it doesn't have the parts he needs I can make them with what little bit I've got left in me."
Optimus frowned at her words. "You are an Autobot, Elita-One, despite your birth origins."
"But its my birth origins that make me what I truly am. Despite what happened, I'll forever be human in mind and soul."
"No one is forcing you to choose between the two."
She sighed softly. "It's not often you're wrong, Optimus, but I won't hold it against you." After a long moment of quiet she smiled up at the larger Autobot. "Hopefully Ratchet's nightmare will end soon, for his sake of course."
Optimus shared the small smile, "Of course."
"At least he's settling in well." No sooner had she spoken then a scream was heard throughout the building.
"Primus, my optics! It's burning my optics!"
"He'll do better as soon as he learns not to get soap in his eyes," Elita said after giving a tired sigh.
After swearing he would never be able to see, and not finding it as humorous of a situation as the twins apparently had as they helped him clear the soap out of his eyes, Ratchet managed to grab some semblance of food before the cooks had cleared everything away. None of it smelt as good as what he recalled coming out of the kitchen back at the old base when Elita would cook. As he pushed the lumpy mass one of the cooks called scrambled eggs around his plate with the fork, Ratchet wondered if she still cooked. If the food she made smelt better than this, it must taste better. He recalled that she enjoyed the act, or at least found it relaxing enough to have that soft smile of hers he had come to love; a smile that he dearly missed since that argument.
It was the sound of someone else in the otherwise empty mess hall that drew his attention away from the orange-yellow glob on his plate, making him look up and around. Elita had come in with an armload consisting of file folders, a box of some sort, and a laptop, and had set the mass on a table that was far from the door and seated in a corner. He watched as she unrolled a cable, attaching one end to the wall and the other to the back of the computer itself before she walked into the kitchen.
Ratchet was on his feet and making his way over to the door he had seen her walk through, plate in hand, before he even realized it. Stopping at the door he just stood there watching like he had several times before. At least this was more comfortable than crouching down and looking in sideways to see her.
Elita was humming to herself as she dug around in the refrigeration units, loading several items into her arms before she tapped the door to close with her hip. Setting her bounty on the counter she began to dig through the mass and separated them as she wished. The group of plants, mostly made up of green things of various shapes, were washed in the large sink before she began to slice them up with a sizable knife and depositing them all in a large metal bowl. Next she began to gently break open the white ovals, one in each hand, letting their contents drop into another bowl before she tossed the shells into yet another bowl that she had put the parts of the plants in that she didn't wish to utilize. Once she had completed that task she grabbed a large multi wired, bulbous shaped contraption by the handle and began to quickly stir the contents from the ovals around quickly, adding the contents from the plant bowl into it. After another stirring she poured everything from that final bowl into a large pan she had heating up on the stove, the sudden sizzling filling the room.
The smell made his mouth water as she took the stirring tool to the contents in the pan for a quick couple shakes of her wrists before she moved all but the scrap bowl to the sink, letting the water fill them for a little bit before she turned her attention back to the stove. Ratchet was still amazed as he watched her do whatever it was that she did at the stove that made the wonderful smells. Looking at her face he saw her smile and was glad that she still did so.
With the spoon that she had taken over stirring the food with she began to scoop the contents onto two plates before she moved the large pan over to the sink. It was only then, as she was carrying the two plates over to the door that she even acknowledged him, passing him one of the plates full of better looking, all be it strange as well, scrambled eggs. Once he had the plate in hand she took his old plate and set it down on one of the counters before she grabbed a couple of forks and motioned for him to lead the way out of the room. With the food back on the table she went back into the kitchen only to return shortly with a couple gallon jugs in one hand, one of them white while the other was orange, and a stack of glasses in the other. Setting them all down she separated the glasses before she poured contents from both jugs before she set two of each in front of him.
Only after she had settled in did he sit down in the chair in front of where she had set up her little work area. Ratchet watched as Elita took a bite, but was soon starting to dig around in the stack of folders as she ate in silence. She opened the box, digging out a red writing pen and a few colored paperclips before she began to mark on the papers in the folder she was looking through. Taking her queue, he began to eat as well. Oh how he loved being right! Not only did her cooking smell better, but it tasted wonderful.
Elita only glanced up as Ratchet began to eat as if he had been starving, but managed to keep her smile to herself as she went back to her paperwork. It was something she always wanted to do for him, but up until yesterday it was not possible. With a sigh she went back to reading reports and interviews from the men they had captured at the base. She had to get all this done before the small group of Autobots stopped by before lunch for a few practice rounds with the men of her unit.
Ratchet stood back with his human counterpart as they watched the training. He had to admit that the humans were pretty good at what they did. They worked well with the Autobots that they trained with and, as much as he hated to admit it, they followed orders very well. Both Elita and the unit commander were sharp and clear with their orders, but their team respected the pair.
"She's distracted," Slash mumbled quietly, drawing Ratchet out of his thoughts.
Finding her again with his optics … eyes he had to remind himself … he focused on her. Elita had her arms crossed as she watched the different groups of humans as they practiced. The few times before now that Ratchet had stopped by during these training sessions she was usually hands on with both forms, teaching both human and Autobot with both forms how to interact without damaging one another.
"Perhaps she merely does not wish to openly participate today. She is wounded, after all," Ratchet reminded the man beside him of the sacrifice Elita-One had made. After all, she had to be having a harder time adapting to this than he was.
"She might be a bit slower, but she doesn't act like she's hurt." John continued as he ignored the disgruntled look Ratchet glanced at him with, "No, she's studying the men. Something was fishy with the last mission and she knows it."
"Aside from both of us getting shot?" the Autobot snorted. "I could have told you that. The Energon …"
John motioned with his pointer finger over his closed lips for Ratchet to keep quiet. At first he felt the rush of anger, his face growing warm with it, but then he caught a couple of the nearby soldiers trying to discreetly listen to the two medics. He also saw Elita eyeing the pair herself. The cogs were whirling in his mind now as Ratchet slowly began to piece some things together. The last mission ended in an ambush aimed for any Autobots that had showed up. No, that wasn't right. All the little red dots were aimed at Elita. M.E.C.H. still saw her as a target and were trying to take her out, and that would only happen over his dead body.
Author's Note: I don't own the show! Thanks for reading!