When Ironhide woke up the following orn, he was still tired but he could think much more clearly. Whatever it was the medic had been sedating him with must have finally worn off.
Ironhide had no way to know the time without his chronometer, but the direction and color of the natural light in the room told him it was late morning. He glanced around, as best he could while lying on his back at least, and noted that the med bay looked different somehow. He was hooked up to the same monitoring devices as before—he could see them above him—but the room itself just did not seem the same. He tensed against his restraints, which held just as firmly as they had earlier, before he scanned to the corners of the room.
The scan indicated that he was alone, and Ratchet was not there yet. Residual energy traces suggested that the medic had not been in the room recently.
The weapons specialist took the opportunity to study the room more closely, knowing now that it was definitely not the same one he was in before. This room was smaller, clearly designed to hold only one patient. Perhaps he was in some kind of isolation unit. The walls were slate gray and devoid of anything ornamental, but there was a window on the far wall. It was probably made of shatterproof glass.
The Autobots must have taken him there while he was in stasis. He found it vexing to think that they had done it and he had not even noticed. What else might they have—
Ironhide stiffened at the sound of the heavy door lock clicking open. He looked over to see Ratchet enter the room, the chartreuse medic using an access code to lock the door behind him.
Then the medic approached the berth, his optics focused on a handheld medical scanner as he wordlessly stopped beside Ironhide. The black mech stayed still while Ratchet scanned him and then checked the monitors. After a moment, the medic turned to Ironhide.
"I'm going to disconnect the drip," the medic said before removing the tape and gently grasping Ironhide's wrist, holding it steady. Then he added, slightly quieter, "This might sting a bit. Just try to relax."
Ironhide nodded his understanding, looking away as the medic slowly began to draw the large needle out, though he winced involuntarily as it neared the end.
"There." Ratchet set the needle aside with one hand, using the other to put some pressure on the leaking energon line. "So why 'Ironhide'?"
"What?" Ironhide's wrist still stung, and it did not help that the medic was bandaging it. Since Cybertronians were usually protected by their armor, they could be relatively sensitive underneath it.
"Your designation. Why did you choose it?"
Ironhide closed his optics, wincing again as the medic finished with the bandage. "It seemed fitting I guess."
Ratchet acknowledged noncommittally but did not say more, sensing that Ironhide was tired. He knew that the black mech did not like to recharge in the presence of others, and was probably fighting to stay online until he left.
Checking the monitors one more time, Ratchet updated the Decepticon's medical file and then turned toward him. The black mech had kept his optics closed, and seemed focused on his steady venting.
"You still with me, Ironhide?"
Ironhide drew in a larger vent of air before onlining his optics. "Yeah."
"Try to get some rest. I'll be back in a few joors." Ratchet turned to leave, and Ironhide glanced briefly in the medic's direction before shuttering his optics and falling into a much-needed recharge.
/* * */
It seemed to Ironhide that he had just begun recharging when the door to the room clicked open again, waking him up. Ratchet stepped in, this time followed by Ultra Magnus.
The Autobot commander moved to stand by the wall, well out of the medic's way but still nearby, while Ratchet silently walked to the berth. He scanned Ironhide and then checked the monitors, just like he had before.
Ironhide blinked. "What time is it?"
"Almost 17:00."
It was already that late? Scrap...
Ratchet moved in front of him before speaking again, his voice professional as always. "We need to get you up for a bit. It's hard on your systems to stay in the same position for too long."
As the medic began disconnecting the medical equipment and proceeded to undo the restraints, Ironhide glanced at Ultra Magnus, who was merely watching with his arms crossed over his chest plates. The blue mech was there as backup, no doubt.
The weapons specialist shifted his attention back to Ratchet as the chartreuse mech removed the last restraint and then urged him to sit up. Ironhide tentatively pushed himself up, allowing the medic to help him when it became too difficult. He finally managed to sit on the berth's edge.
Ratchet kept a hand on the Decepticon's back to steady him, though it was clear that he was also preparing to help him stand. "All right. You're going to find this uncomfortable, but it will only get worse the longer we wait. It would be best to do it now since your welds have had time to reach full strength."
Ironhide hesitated, his stiff frame already aching in protest, before he relented with a tired sigh. "Very well."
Ratchet positioned himself at Ironhide's right side, draping the black mech's arm over his shoulders and using his own sturdy frame to support the mech as he stood. "Easy. Keep most of the weight on your left leg."
The weapons specialist did as he was instructed, leaning with his free hand against the surface of the berth to help keep the weight off of the damaged joint in his ankle. Still, he grunted as the pressure on his hip became distinctly uncomfortable.
Ironhide managed to stay standing with the medic's assistance. Ratchet had no trouble steadying the black mech, who was only slightly taller than him, but after a few more moments it became clear that Ironhide could stand without his help.
Ratchet performed another scan, a bit surprised that Ironhide was already able to support the weight of his heavy frame by himself. "All right, that's good. Let's get you back down."
Ironhide said nothing as he carefully eased himself back onto the berth. Ratchet stayed nearby to assist him if needed, but the black mech was able to lie down on his own. He then waited as the medic restrained him to the berth again.
Ultra Magnus stepped forward, having received a comm message seconds before. "If you'll excuse me, Doctor, my presence has been requested elsewhere. Is there anything else you need from me?"
"No, Ultra Magnus. I can handle it from here." He glanced up at the blue mech. "Thank you for your time."
"Of course." Ultra Magnus closed the door as he left but he did not lock it, knowing that the medic would not be long behind him.
Ratchet turned back to his patient, putting one hand on the Decepticon's chest. He could feel his spark pulsing rapidly. The recent activity, though he had managed it well, had obviously put some strain on him. Ratchet made a mental note to watch for situations were Ironhide might overexert himself but not show it.
The medic also internally chastised himself for allowing a patient any opportunity to potentially injure himself. He should have known better than to let Ironhide stand on his own, even if the mech had seemed able to do it. Frag, what had he been thinking?
But Ironhide appeared unharmed, his optics tracking Ratchet's movements as the medic deftly reattached the monitoring devices and studied their readouts. Determining that the weapons specialist had exhausted himself but was otherwise unharmed, Ratchet brushed his concern aside and finished updating Ironhide's medical file.
/* * */
Later that orn, Jazz and Prowl sat at a table in the lounge, sipping on their respective cubes of energon and conversing about the things that had happened earlier in the orn, although in reality it was more of Jazz just talking and Prowl being content to listen. The silver minibot and the black and white enforcer were close friends, despite their polar opposite personalties.
Jazz looked up from his cube of energon when he sensed another friend entering the lounge. He waved at the chartreuse mech across the room.
Ratchet walked over to them, sitting down across from Jazz and next to Prowl. He set a cube of energon aside before leaning on the table and cradling his helm in his hands, sighing heavily.
Jazz glanced at the medic. "Long orn, huh?"
Not even lifting his helm, Ratchet mumbled a reply. "Story of my life."
"So what about the Decepticon?" Jazz asked, curious.
Ratchet looked up tiredly. "Ironhide?"
"Yeah. Magnus says he doesn't seem at all worried about bein' here."
"No, he doesn't. I'm not sure if we should be concerned about that or not."
"Did he have any tracking devices on him?"
"None, and his comm system was offline before we even arrived on the scene." The medic reached over and finally took a sip from his energon cube. "But it wouldn't take a space bridge scientist to figure out he's here. Our only well-equipped brig is at this base."
"Ain't that the truth." Jazz also took a sip of energon. "So why'd you leave his cannons on, anyway?"
"He seemed willing to cooperate, and I didn't want to jeopardize that. Leaving his weapons on, even if they are disabled, might give him at least some reason to trust us."
"Do you think he trusts us?"
Ratchet paused, thinking about it. "I don't know. I'm certain he doesn't fear us, but as far as anything else that's going on in his processor, I have no idea."
"Will he be interrogated?" Prowl asked absently, his optics focused on his own cube of energon as if he was trying to move it with his mind.
Jazz replied, "That's Prime's call. As far as I know, we're gonna see how the 'Con behaves after he's released from medical, then maybe do some preliminary evaluations to try and figure out how much of a threat he really is, and take it from there. How long do you think he'll need to stay in the med bay, Ratch?"
"Probably a few more orns. He's recovering quite quickly, especially considering that most mechs wouldn't have even survived such a blast."
The silver minibot leaned back, crossing his arms. "Yeah, that's pretty impressive. His designation suits him."
"Indeed it does." Ratchet finished his energon, and after studying the empty cube for a moment, he moved to get up. "Well, I'm heading back to my quarters. Comm me if there's an emergency."
Jazz nodded. "Will do. G'night, Ratch."
Ratchet stood, picking up the empty energon cube. "Good night, Jazz, Prowl."
Prowl waved good night. "Take it easy, Ratchet."
/* * */
Ironhide lay awake, staring up at the dark ceiling of the little medical room. One of the Autobots had put some kind of thermal blanket over him, and while he was grateful for it, it also reminded him that someone had been there without his knowledge.
He was annoyed that he had no problem staying online now. Why could he not recharge now, when no one else would be around anytime soon? Oh, right... That would be far too convenient.
There was a thunderstorm off in the distance, and Ironhide looked across the room as the dim flashes of lightning strikes filtered through the window. He wondered what it would be like to be outside right about then. How severe was the weather, way out there? It would be interesting to see.
But he could not go anywhere. He puzzled over what the Autobots intended to do with him, since they had said nothing at all about it.
They did not seem inclined to hurt him—quite the opposite, actually—but they did not appear to want anything from him either. They had not demanded that he share any Decepticon secrets, even though they doubtlessly knew that he would have many of them. In fact, they had asked for nothing other than his designation, function, and rank, all of which they could have found out on their own if they had so desired. They had not even asked what he was doing in the Badlands.
Not that Ironhide would have given them any sensitive information then, nor did he intend to do it now. It would take more than a facade of niceness to break him. The Autobots were too soft, and Ironhide was confident that he could handle anything that they might attempt to force his cooperation.
The weapons specialist glanced back at the ceiling. He disliked being restrained to the berth, but then again he deserved as much for getting captured. Maybe he could have avoided that situation somehow, or maybe he could not have. It did not really matter now.
What did matter was what Ironhide would do from that point. He knew that he could not get out of his restraints, and it would be a waste of precious energy to even try, so he settled for scanning the room again. This time, he was evaluating its structural integrity.
A thorough analysis showed that the room was heavily reinforced, and it was not likely that he could escape even if he managed to get free inside. Frag... Scrap that idea.
Well then, he would just wait and see what his Autobot captors had planned for him.