Woo, updated two stories in the same week! I hope you enjoy :D

Lying alone on the berth in the otherwise empty med bay just before morning, all Ratchet could think about was how fragging uncomfortable it was.

He had not recharged at all that night. Well, barely—about two cycles a little earlier, and another half cycle a bit later on. It was a far cry from the four to six uninterrupted cycles of recharge that his systems required to perform optimally, and the fact that he had been lacking that for several Earth days in a row now probably explained why he felt the way he did. Nothing seemed to be functioning properly and he just had this overall feeling of... of...

Of what, exactly?

Primus knew. Ratchet did not even have a suitable word or phrase to describe it.

The medic shifted slightly, trying to relieve some of the pressure on his lower back and hip area. The flat metal surface of the berth was always rigid and unforgiving, but right now it seemed particularly inclined to create pressure points and uncomfortable spots that Ratchet just could not seem to avoid. And since there were so many monitors and sensors hooked up to him, he could not even roll onto his side like he wanted to.

The Autobot CMO reached up to run his hand down his face, a slight draft of cold air brushing across his frame.

Ironhide's frame, he should say.

Ratchet was not even sure if his own frame was still viable. Why else would it not be here, in the primary med bay?

And although the medic was very hard-pressed to believe that any of his comrades, especially Optimus, would lie to him about something that important, his processor would not stop telling him that that was the only logical conclusion.

Oh, and it kept telling him all kinds of other things, too. Conversations from the previous day just kept repeating and repeating and repeating, and minute details that had no significance whatsoever somehow ended up stuck in the forefront of his thoughts. He could not focus on anything, yet he could not clear his mind either.

Ratchet almost wished that he had a switch to just turn everything off.

Frag... If he could just reach the medications cabinet, he could simply force induced stasis on himself...

But Jolt would not like that, and the junior medic was going to be examining him again this morning.

Ratchet let out a tired sigh. How much longer was it going to be, anyway?

An hour? Two hours?

Did it even fragging matter?

Not really. It was still dark, so that meant that it would be at least a little while before anyone came.

Ratchet forced himself to relax, leaning back against the berth and trying to stop tensing up like he was in the middle of a fight. Perhaps if he could do that, he might be able to get at least a little bit of rest before the day began in earnest.

But the only thing the medic saw when he closed his optics was himself, as if looking on from the view of someone else. He could see himself standing in the middle of that grassy field and merely watching Ironhide as the black mech fought with every ounce of his being.

You did exactly what you were supposed to do. What you were trained to do.

And what exactly was I trained to do? Let a comrade fend for himself when he clearly needed help?

That's not what I meant, Ratchet.

Then why don't you enlighten me?

You and I both know that you have a personal responsibility to look out for your own safety first. Ironhide had that exact same duty.

Yes, and he failed to do so.

He did, but you can't blame yourself that he jumped head-first into a situation that he shouldn't have, and you know that endangering yourself as well would have only made the situation worse.

Ratchet had paused at that.

I would never be able to live with myself knowing that I did not even try to to save him. Knowing that he knew that I did not even try.

Yes, but he also knows how important you are to us. How important what you do is to us.

That doesn't mean my life should be any more valuable. Optimus does not think that way of himself, so why should I?

I'm not saying you should, but the truth of the matter is that Ironhide's much better equipped to look out for himself. He's built like a tank and nothing on Cybertron ever brought him down for long.

So what are you saying, Jazz? That you wouldn't have helped him?

Of course not. We all would have. But if we don't have this conversation, it won't stay in perspective...

Just then the door to the med bay slid open, startling Ratchet even though he had heard it a thousand times before. After taking a moment to regain his bearings, he glanced up to see Jolt walking over to him. The younger medic looked tired, and the room looked a lot brighter than Ratchet remembered.

Was it morning already? Frag... It did not feel like it.

And Ratchet did not really feel like dealing with Jolt right then. He did not really feel like dealing with anyone right then.

Well, anyone except—

"Good morning, Ratchet," Jolt spoke up as he glanced at the CMO's monitors. Nothing must have been outside of the expected range because the blue medic did not pause to make note of anything, instead checking to make sure that the energon drip under Ratchet's armor was still securely in place.

Ratchet also did not want to be touched but he knew that Jolt was only there to help, and so he quietly kept his discomfort to himself. "Jolt," he replied flatly, his optics focused on nothing in particular.

Jolt studied his mentor for a moment before asking, "How are you feeling?"

Ratchet pursed his lip plates. "Fine."

"You know, you're doing the same thing Ironhide does," Jolt said. "You're saying you're fine when I'm certain that you aren't feeling that well."

Ratchet did not meet his optics, instead just staring at the ceiling. "Then why do you even ask?"

"Because," Jolt responded, "I would hope that as a fellow medic, you would tell me the truth so I can do what's best to help you."

Ratchet glanced at him then, though he looked away after just a few seconds. "The truth is subjective."

/* * */

Jolt was not exactly sure what Ratchet meant by that, but he did know that the senior medic had been having far too much time to think lately. And whenever Ratchet started thinking too much, he tended to get withdrawn and melancholic in a way that always made Jolt wonder what was going on inside the CMO's processor.

"Come on," Jolt encouraged the other mech to sit up, to get his mind off things. "I'm going to let you walk around the room today."

But Ratchet merely shrugged it off, appearing as if he could not be any less interested in the idea. "There's nowhere to go."

"That's not the idea and you know it," Jolt retorted, lately having had to get a little sharp with his mentor. Ratchet just was not being cooperative, and although the CMO was well-known for his gruff attitude and stubbornness, it usually did not extend beyond the bounds of logic. "You need to move around. Ironhide's joints are locked up enough as it is."

Ratchet glared at his protégé weakly, letting out a derisive snort and rolling his optics, but then he relented. "Fine."

"You're not to used to this, are you?" Jolt asked as he silenced the monitors so Ratchet could get up.

Ratchet tiredly pushed his frame up to a sitting position, several of the joints creaking loudly in protest as he ran a hand over his face. "Used to what?"

"To being the patient. To having someone else tell you what to do."

Ratchet glanced down at his lap, and the frame that was not his. "Can't say I am."

"Well, I just want you to know that you don't have to fight me. I'm only here to help and to do what's best for you."

Ratchet truly met his apprentice's gaze then, a look of sincere regret on the CMO's faceplates. "Jolt, I'm... I'm sorry," he replied shakily, his entire demeanor noticeably less rigid now. "I never intended to suggest anything else. I just... I don't fraggin' know what to do. About any of this."

"None of us always know what to do," Jolt reassured him. "We just do the best we can with what we have and what we do know. You need to take it one step at a time or you'll just get overwhelmed worrying about all the ifs and what-ifs and the hundreds of ways that any given scenario could play out. It's more than anyone can handle."

Ratchet drew in a deep vent of air, processing what Jolt had said. "Fair enough," he replied, his voice unusually submissive. "What is it I should be worrying about?"

"You need to focus on your recovery," Jolt informed him. "You're stressing yourself out and it isn't helping you in any way. You're making your systems work harder than they should and that will only keep you here longer."

"'Hide's systems," Ratchet corrected the younger medic. "They're his, not mine."

"All the more reason to go easy on them," Jolt said, taking advantage of the perfect opportunity to remind his mentor of what that really meant. "He might not take it easy on his systems, but I'm sure he would appreciate it if you did."

Ratchet clammed up then, glancing away from Jolt. "He isn't here to appreciate anything," the larger mech said, almost cynically. "He may never even use these systems again."

Jolt internally cringed at that, Ratchet over the past few orns seeming to take anything that was said and twisting it around toward the negative. "Well, you don't know that so let's not assume it."

Ratchet said nothing and Jolt knew that the older medic was done talking, it was just unfortunate that it had happened this early in the day. But at least the CMO was sitting up, and for a fleeting second the sight of that black frame being in any position other than lying on a berth was enough to restore some hope that Ironhide would once again exist amongst them.

But for the time being, Jolt needed to remember that this was Ratchet.

"Ratchet, if you still feel like walking around, I can help you up."

Ratchet was of course not an invalid—the strength he had displayed earlier during his short bout of anger had certainly disproved that—but he was not familiar with Ironhide's frame, and it had already become apparent that there would be at least some learning curve associated with it.

However, Ratchet merely let out a vent of air. "I'd like to be left alone now if that would be all right," the CMO asked respectfully if flatly, his gaze focused on the wall now.

"That would be fine," Jolt allowed. "I trust that you will be able to hook yourself back up to the monitors when you are ready to lie down?"

Jolt was really not worried that Ratchet needed to have his systems monitored so closely anymore, at least not all the time. His vitals had been stable for several orns now and he had not shown any signs of significant distress other than mental stress, and that was something that might be better cured by giving him a bit more freedom.

Ratchet did not reply verbally but he nodded, his gaze still fixed on some imperceptible feature of the wall although it was clear that he was not truly focused on it. Jolt stepped aside, reaching into yet another drawer and taking out a small energon cube in case Ratchet wanted to begin weaning himself off the drip. His tanks had been empty for quite some time now but a small amount of energon would not hurt him, and the extra would only be beneficial even if he did decide to stay on the drip.

Jolt set the cube next to him. "Here, in case you want it."

Ratchet did glance at the cube, though he made no move to pick it up. "Thank you, Jolt. I may use it later."

Jolt nodded. "That's good enough for me. If you do, just try to make note of it and how much. I'm not sure whose medical record it will go in yet, but either way it should be as accurate as possible."

Ratchet nodded again. "Understood," he said, in a mannerism that was so much like Ironhide. Or perhaps it was just because Ironhide had more often displayed such an act of submission, with Ratchet able to pull medical rank in most disputes.

"All right." Jolt smiled at him. "Comm me if you need anything."

After another short acknowledgement from Ratchet and a genuine feeling that the CMO would be okay, Jolt turned and headed toward the door. Ratchet needed some privacy, and Jolt needed to check on another patient.

/* * */

When the blue Chevy Volt left the med bay, he had suspected that some of the other Autobots might be waiting for him. What he had not been expecting to see was a quartet consisting of Jazz, Bumblebee, and the two Terror Twins.

"Jolt, how is he?" Jazz asked, clearly speaking for everyone there.

Jolt strode over to the assembled group, all of them watching him with eager anticipation. He spoke quietly, even if there was no chance of Ratchet overhearing him. "Well, physically he's doing fine, but mentally I just don't know. He just doesn't seem to be bouncing back from it like I would expect him to."

"Ya tried askin' him what's botherin' him?" Mudflap spoke up, a genuine suggestion in stark contrast to the mech's usual whitty sarcasm.

"It would be no use," Bumblebee communicated through the comm link. "He's not the type to talk about his problems like that."

"Bumblebee's right," Jolt directed at Mudflap, though he continued to speak to everyone. "And besides, I did try asking him. He did not wish to talk about it."

"I bet he thinks we're lyin' to him," Skids added next, leaning against the wall with his slightly smaller but much more brightly colored frame. "Think about it. We let him see any of us, but 'Hide's still in iso'. How does he know the mech even made it?"

"Ironhide's condition is still highly volatile," Jolt reminded him. "I would hate for that to be another source of stress for Ratchet."

"But are you sure that not seeing him isn't causing Ratchet more stress?" Jazz wondered, crossing his arms over his chassis in a relaxed pose. "I mean, are you sure that's the best way to handle it?"

Jolt dropped his shoulders slightly, letting out a sigh. "Honestly, I've been starting to rethink that. But I need to get Ironhide more stable, and I need to do something to help Ratchet get some rest. He has not been recharging well for the last few days."

Jazz nodded, not seeming too surprised by that. "You gonna medicate him?"

"I will tonight, yes," Jolt replied. "We'll see how he does after that. If it seems to help, I may let him see Ironhide."