A Medic's Life

Life.

Such an amazing, wonderful thing it was if you could see the spark.

Just not like this.

The orb of energy that was the very life, the essence of who the mech was that was on the repair birth...it was fading. No long so large and pulsating with a rainbow of colors, not unlike the kind you see on a slick of oil on top of water. This spark, this cherished thing was distinctly smaller then it had been when the mech was first brought into medical ward.

"I need another set of hands here!" Quicksilver screamed at the ward in general, so focused she didn't see or know that there was already another two Medics working on the same mech she was. She had a soft chant of: "Come on, come on..." as she worked.

It was tunnel vision. Time had no meaning as she worked, she had to fix this mech or- Quicksilver risked a glance at the spark but an arm was blocking her view. She gave a wordless cry, who ever it was, was in her way!

"'Silver, it's done." Ratchet's voice, probably it was his white arm.

"No, I still have to-"

The Senor Medic Officer reached over and caught his Junior's right wrist, his other hand reaching around her middle before he just lifted her up. Quicksilver weighed next to nothing in terms of 'normal' mechs, let alone warriors. Ratchet did the equivalent of gritting his teeth at the smaller white and silver femmie screeched as she was taken away from her 'peasant,' unable to see that the poor mech was graying. Two of the medics working on who ever it was had to be dragged away, both of them in this tunnel vision stare of 'I have to fix/save him!'

"Get him to another mech that needs work!" Ratchet bellowed at the helping Prowl. The other Officer had come originally to just check in but had some how got dragged into helping.

Not that Prowl was complaining as he hefted the Medic he was holding, turning away so the dead mech was out of sight and carrying the screaming medic to the nearest wounded. He was just hesitating on putting the mech down when the medic spotted the red form of Ironhide.

The smaller medic tore free and bee-line to the old warrior, dropping down by the bleeding, turn stump that used to be a leg.

Prowl stared a moment. Well that explained Ratchet's words. He turned to see the Chief Medicle Officer was doing this same thing to Quick silver. Forcing the femmie to look at another wounded mech and then it was like the dead one had never been. Quicksilver got to work, calming down before she even started.

Ratchet turned and was back to backing orders over Smokescreen's head as he worked on fixing the white and gray's back.

The tide of wounded at last ebbed and faded. The near frantic running around to get parts, and in a few cases the grizzly task of cannibalizing the dead for more parts, was no more. Just as it started it almost abruptly ended. Those with minor and stabilized wounds that had been ordered to stay outside and not be in the way were hauled back in to be treated as those that had been in a critical state were being monitored in the side wards.

The stress all the medics and their helpers had been under didn't leave, so much as it changed.

Prowl heard it before he saw her.

Quicksilver was sitting off to the side, without being assigned to a ward and thus having something to focus on. She was still on leave technically but Ratchet had sent out a city-call for any and all available medics. That didn't happen often, but those working under him had leaned that when Ratchet bellow you came running. The louder the yell the quicker you were.

But right now, the trauma of seeing mechs die as well as the intensity of the wounds... how had some of them survived getting back let alone the time it took to repair...?

Someone crouched down in front of the vibrating femmie, carefully not touching since Prowl saw the signs of traumatic stress. Though he never thought he'd see it in a medic that had never been close to a battle field. Was it like this for all the medics, not just the combat ones?

Prowl glanced around, a little surprised to see that, yes. It seemed to be true in varying degrees.

Even the pacing and growling Ratchet though he seemed to have the best control of it. His sharp, snapped orders had instant responses as he was taking care of his Junior officers and medics. Giving each something to do that would focused their attention...

Prowl understood, on another level, why Ratchet was the Chief Medical Officer, not just for he skills, but that he was a leader that took care of everyone under his care.

Quicksilver stood up abruptly, "I need to clean up." She said to the main room in general.

Prowl stood and stepped back, his keen optics picking out the gash, "Wait." He said, in a tone that he normally used for giving orders. IT wasn't Ratchet's growl but it worked the same.

Mentioning Ratchet…

The white and red was coming over, as if homing in on the wound. Which, come to think about it wouldn't be that surprising if he was. "What's wrong?"

Quicksilver flashed her optics in a blink, unaware of damage.

Prowl indicated the spot for her.

Ratchet gave a drawn out, long suffering his that what the equivalent of a sigh. "Here." He pointed to the spot directly in front of him. Ratchet waiting for his Junior to do so before kneeling down and inspecting the gash. Grunting he turned her around to look for more damage, "I swear one of these days I'm going to give you a stronger shell."

"My joints can't take anything heavier." Quicksilver said, and seemed to come out of her dazed trance at the old threat. "Sam reason why I have no alternate mode,"

"It means I have to bother with an over haul…" Ratchet growled now, but there was no bite to his words.

"And making a transforming cog," Quicksilver helpfully put it, trying to make it sound like it was far to much trouble for her senor officer. They had said these lines so often all ready that it was a comfort, something familiar to latch onto.

"You don't have a transforming cog?" Prowl asked, his voice, cutting into the play drew the optics of both medics. They blinked at him, as if confused that he would interrupt.

"No." Quicksilver shook her head, "I've never had one."

Prowl, already aware of the femmie's case, so to say, mostly do to the fact that when Ratchet had brought it up (ranted about it really) he had barged into a meeting between himself, Optimus Prime, Jazz, Ironhide and a few other officers. He knew about the block, but never being aloud to transform? True there were some that chose to stay in one form or another, but all created protoforms had to have a transforming cog.

Prowl seemed to become evening calmer, not really 'cold' but close.

Ratchet was glowering at Prowl. Now was NOT the time. "You're alright for now," he said, as he too controlled himself, "Go clean up and come back here after a recharge so I can fix you." Ratchet dismissed his Junior as he stood.

Oblivious to any underlying tones from the lack of energy and resent stress, Quicksilver nodded before doing as told. Leaving medical for the nearest wash-rack.

There wasn't many in the halls but a few did double takes on her. The white and silver femmie smiled and reassured those that asked if she was alright that, yes she was fine she just came from medical and that it was worse then it looked. It was the price of having such a light frame. Quicksilver reached the wash-racks, opening the door and stepping in.

More then one voice promptly screamed.

If it were possible, Quicksilver would have went cross eyed in response.

For you see, the sound was nothing like an organic scream. This came from beings far older and more powerful then any, say, humans. The voices ranged in pitch, in fact would classify as female but it was only mechs in the wash racks.

There was a long pause.

"Should I come back?" Quicksilver hesitantly asked, a little dazed again. It wasn't every day that she managed to scare the daylights out of so many mechs that were clearly warriors. Any over time, if she had more Energon in her systems, Quicksilver would had gladly waltzed in and taken her pick of the hansom, not to mention just as stunned warriors to help her clean up.

Hey, who wouldn't want that?

But, at the moment they all just stared awkwardly at each other.