And with this chapter, Let it Shine ends. I hope it was worth the wait! Get ready for 'I Wanna Know', coming up on the 10th March. Bulkster was still missing from the big picture, now, wasn't he.
A few orns passed before Bumblebee gathered up the guts to visit Ratchet in the medical bay. He had less chances of getting grouched at if he went back after being fully repaired, and besides, part of the reason was that Ratchet himself had called him down for a check-up. It was a perfect opportunity, though, for Bumblebee to try and crack that grouchy outer shell. So when the little scout showed up in the med bay, he walked a few steps, jogged, and leapt up onto the berth with a cheeky smirk.
"I'm ready for my check-up, Doc!"
"Sit still then." Ratchet seemed mildly bored, and grumpy as ever. He fetched a scanner, and held it over Bee's wounded side. "Mmm, nothing off the scale, you're healing nicely. I'll run a few more tests just to make sure there's nothing amiss, and then you can go and I don't even want to see you anywhere near my med bay."
Bumblebee's smile vanished the minute those words left Ratchet's vocals, but he waited until the medic had gotten started on the second test before he spoke.
"So here we are, working and living in the same space as teammates, and you'd rather we be strangers?"
The medic spared him an annoyed glance. "I sense a vocalizer malfunction."
"I do too. That didn't answer my question."
"Because it made no sense," Ratchet retorted. "I have no idea what you are trying to say, kid; and frankly, I think we'd both be a lot better off if you didn't try so hard."
Bumblebee's intakes briefly hissed in a bout of frustration. "Then I'll rephrase. Why are you so insistent on being all alone? You're always shouting at us and complaining and keeping yourself locked up in here. Why, Ratchet?"
"Because that's what I do!" the medic snarled. "I have work to do here, unlike some little glitches who prance around with humans all day, listening to the grass grow. Like any of you is interested in my grumbling! I'm fine the way I am."
"I'm not interested in your grumbling," Bumblebee argued, not backing down. "I'm interested in what you're like when you're not growling and waving a wrench in our faces."
Ratchet's face contorted into another angry bare of metallic teeth. As he turned from Bumblebee, the scout caught him by the arm. "I know that you've got something in that spark of yours other than all these nasty comments and complaints, Ratchet. I've seen it twice already, and I'm not above persisting until you give me an answer."
No response. Bee was getting irritated—did he really have to be so stubborn?
"This isn't the Great War, Ratchet!" he cried. "Sure, we face some heavy danger now and again, but it's not like we have to worry about getting our afts shot offline when we turn every corner! But you spend all this time making work for yourself instead of getting to know us...you still act like we're in the middle of that War!"
"You have no idea what it was like back then!" the medic hollered, his optics wavering. "You've only seen real death for a minute or two; you don't have the slightest idea how it feels, when somebody's spark goes out under your hands! You've never held broken mechs in your arms so they wouldn't have to be alone in their final minutes! You've never wanted to rip out a component from yourself, or die, so a friend could live!" He jabbed a finger into Bumblebee's chest. "The war is not over until not a single one of the Decepticons is alive!"
"Don't chastise me on this!" Bumblebee was shouting back, emotions flaring. His armor clanged when Ratchet smudged his finger against it, and Bumblebee leaned into it, making pressure. "What do you think I was doing out there with Bulkhead and Meltdown, huh, Doc?! I might not have had the same experiences as you, but don't think for a nanosecond that I wouldn't be willing to die in someone else's place—including yours!"
Ratchet stared at the agitated little scout, his angry expression slowly melting into something akin to defeated resignation. "I've never said you don't have it in you," he said, his voice somewhat veiled. "What you two little glitches did...was not something you were programmed for. It was a great thing. But be very happy that you don't have to do it on a daily basis."
His voice dropped down a few notches. Bumblebee was searching Ratchet's expression for something past what was on the surface—any sort of hint that he might be able to get a little more out of the medic than a few pain-tinged words and complaints.
"All that scrap you spouted earlier about emotional detachment, about it being better this way, with no one being bonded to one another...do you preach that because you believe that it works?"
"It never fragging does." Ratchet looked down. "I bet even high-and-mighty Ultra Magus is seeing his mate every so often. Not to mention some others...but it's so much easier when there's nobody in the middle of your spark. It spares you the pain when he's ripped out from there."
"So, what...? You're just going to keep going on like this, being by yourself? You don't know when we're going to die, Ratchet, but I promise we won't be scrapping out on you for at least another couple of vorns."
Bumblebee leaned forward, the medic bot being close enough that he could lean on his shoulder, chin propped on his hands as they overlaid Ratchet's armor. "Maybe it will hurt when we die. It might hurt a lot. More than it did all of the other times. But why live your life expecting that pain? Why not just forget it for a while and be with us?" He paused for a moment, watching Ratchet's optics for any change.
"Humans have an old saying for it. Carpe Diem—seize the day."
For the first time, there was pain in the medic's optics. "I'm too old for that." he shook his head, "All the past, all its weight just won't get off my shoulders. It's enough when you are a hundred percent functional and go on your merry ways without a worry. You just go and love Prime, and fool around with Bulkhead. Leave me with my old wounds and rusty memories."
Bumblebee's legs crossed; he kept his optics fixed on Ratchet's from the side. That the medic was hurting, truly hurting, wasn't as much an astonishment as it was a revelation. Anyone would be in pain, after being through what Ratchet had dealt with. It was only that most showed it more than he did. Most didn't hide it away.
Bumblebee didn't think it was possible for Ratchet to look frail. Ratchet wasn't the frail type. But, seeing the pain that flickered across his optics, Bee realized how much he never noticed about the medic before. He was tired; he was old. Of course, Bee knew that Ratchet was old (sometimes, he jokingly suspected the mech was more ancient than the Allspark), but he was always so ready to work, always doing so much for them, always hiding; Bumblebee and the others never had the time to notice. Ratchet's age didn't stop at the physical level; it sank deeper, straight into his spark, swirling under faded blue optics that had seen so much death and destruction. Ratchet's age was drenched with knowledge and scarred by war.
"I don't think so." He spoke quietly after a time. "After knowing the truth, you expect me to leave you alone again? Not a chance, Doc."
A short laughter spilled from the medic's vocalizer, partly sad, partly amused. "I know...you're a stubborn little glitch." He laid a hand on the yellow shoulder. "When you stop behaving like a sparkling high on energon candy, and act like a mech...You're an amazing little fellow, Bee. You remind me of somebody...he was the same as you when he was young: a hot-headed little troublemaker. Still he turned out to be one of the best warriors the Elite Forces ever had."
Bumblebee quirked his head one way; his optics widened slightly, broadcasting curiosity. "Can I ask who it was?"
"Who he is," Ratchet corrected. "He's one of the few lucky mechs who survived all that time in the Pit. His name is Ironhide. I've known him since I was sparked. We've been...good friends."
A grin slapped itself on Bumblebee's face; he couldn't help it. The way Ratchet said "good friends" was posed so vaguely; how could he not reach a different conclusion? And he also had the sneaking suspicion that he might be right. But for now, he let it rest.
Ironhide...Ironhide...
"Wait...I think I've heard that name before." Bumblebee's optics dimmed, narrowed, while he sifted through his memory banks for the information. "Wasn't he, like, head of the Weapons Department?" How ironic, that a medical officer would fall for a weapons specialist...
"Exactly that. He trained at Autobot Academy, like all the others...when I was put on practice, to get the experience I needed for my medical degree, I was sent there as an assistant to the school doc. I saw him quite often, when he was not getting into fights; he had scratches, cracks, pulled cables. He was a horrible patient, whining and wiggling...after I tied him down, because he was the tough one who took the hits with a broad chassis, insisting everything was fine..." Ratchet shook his head, with a smile. "But, he was a great friend with a huge spark, and a brave soldier. He even saved Magnus' aft once."
"Sounds like a really memorable guy." Bumblebee's smile was less amused and more genuine now; softer, devoid of his usual mischief. He was still leaning on Ratchet's shoulder, but the medic wasn't protesting, so Bee didn't move to detach.
"Do you miss him?"
Ratchet tensed. He didn't want to answer. It hurt so much...but finally, his optics flickered offline, and he leaned against the smaller, yellow frame. "More than anything." he whispered, "More than Cybertron itself."
Bumblebee nuzzled the mech in return when the other found some solace in his presence. "Do you...love him?"
"Do you love Prime...?"
"Heh," Bee smirked a little, "So 'yes'."
"We were mates." Ratchet murmured, "Spark-bonded mates." He let out a whirring sigh, and embraced Bee, soaking up the warmth from his frame. It felt so nice...so relaxing. "We were each other's first partners." He chuckled. "He was so nervous, his hands were shaking."
By this point, Bumblebee didn't have the capacity to be startled by anything Ratchet did, including pulling him into a warm hug. He just kept smiling, and draped his arms over the mech's shoulders, the berth underneath him putting him on even ground with Ratchet's height.
"But I bet you were at least somewhat expecting it," Bumblebee replied. The first time he and Optimus had done anything together, the last thing the yellow scout had planned on was going into overload with Prime there with him. Silence settled over them like a blanket, quieting their individual doubts while they stood there embracing each other...two friends patching each other's wounds.
"You know, Optimus and I...we haven't...done anything yet...with our sparks."
"You will." Ratchet smiled, his optics still offline. "When you're both will be ready, it'll happen. It'll change many things."
Bumblebee broke the hug after a while, but didn't stop watching the medic with a fixated gaze, leaning forward from the berth curiously as he spoke. "Hey, I know you told me how great sparkbonding is...but...is there anything specific you have to do?" Bumblebee's faceplates heated up a little. "Like, is it possible to...mess up?"
Ratchet chuckled, and settled down next to the youngling on the berth. "No, you don't have to worry. Sparks like to touch each other, but they never do harm. It might feel scary, to expose them, but you don't do it to everybody; just the mech you perfectly trust. The trick is to try to synchronize your spark pulses. When they both tune to the same rhythm, they'll lock in the moment of overload. It might even offline you; it's very intense. But if you can't find the synch, it's still wonderful, so don't blow a processor trying too hard."
Bee smiled, chuckling a little. "If, on the off chance, I wanna try...is there a way to better watch out for the synch so I can pull it off?"
"Not really," the medic shook his head. "It requires a great deal of patience and practice—after all, you want to pay attention to your partner as well. You just listen to your spark, and...will it to pulse faster or slower. It will take quite a few tries. And don't forget, when you bond your sparks, there will be no secrets anymore. You'll know Prime inside and out, his thoughts, his feelings. It's a great responsibility."
The yellow scout stiffened nervously at the prospect, but nodded his head. "I know..." That's why I'm so slagging nervous about it, he thought. But I'll get to it; one day...I know he'll wait until I'm ready.
A red and white arm curled around the yellow shoulders, and Ratchet pulled the scout closer. "Why can't you be like this all the time...?" he grumbled softly. "Prime's a fortunate glitch to have you."
Bee shot Ratchet a wide grin. "I'll stop being a smart-aft when you stop being grumpy," he teased.
Ratchet lightly slapped Bee on the head. "Don't try me, kid. Still have the EMP generator at hand."
"Oww, hey!" Bee rubbed the back of his head, but it was all in jest. It hadn't really hurt that much; he just liked to get on the medic's nerves a little, even when he was like this, being so nice...it was just who he was. But, that didn't mean Bee wasn't thankful.
Bumblebee glanced up at the mech, and smiled wide, squeezing Ratchet's arm. "Doc...thanks for everything." The scout craned his body up a bit, to place a quick peck on Ratchet's cheek, the way a child kisses their parents.
His head was cupped gently by a red hand though; the strong but careful fingers holding him in place. The old medic turned to the little scout and kissed him properly. The contact lingered, and to Bee's surprise, Ratchet's energy fields felt different from Optimus'. Prime was strong and steady, kind of calm, like smooth armor. Ratchet vibrated a bit, and he was warm; very warm and soothing.
The medic smiled on the youngling when he broke the kiss. "That's how mechs do it. You're a warrior now, and warriors don't just tap the edges."
Bumblebee's optics, wide and bright, flickered on and off, the same way humans might blink. Oh, his faceplates were so hot that they were smoking now, small wisps of steam rising off the metal surface before he willed them to cool again.
The little mech sputtered, caught off guard. He hadn't expected Ratchet to kiss him like that. "I...wh—I...uhhh...ah...o-okay...?"
The medic threw his head back laughing. "You should've seen yourself, kid! Totally frozen!" He grinned at Bee and rubbed the yellow head affectionately. "We should finish those check-ups, now shouldn't we?"
Bumblebee hissed geysers of steam between the seams in his faceplates, leering, huffing. "That was mean, and totally unfair," he complained, saying nothing of the check-ups. "You caught me by surprise...!"
Ratchet looked inappropriately smug. "You still have a lot to learn, despite bein' a warrior."
"Psssh..." Bumblebee's optics narrowed playfully. "How 'bout you c'mere Doc, and I'll give you some learnin'!"
"Not a chance," Ratchet countered, back in his usual, strict mood. "Sit still and don't run your vocalizer."
Some things never changed. But other things did, eventually.