The Decepticons continued their attack, bursting through the windows and firing at the crowd. Holoforms began disappearing left and right as the Autobots returned to their true selves and began to defend the humans.
Ratchet's unconscious holoform flickered and faded before Moonracer could reach him. She panicked a little and immediately cancelled her holoform, wrenching awake in her true form in the parking garage.
"Ratchet?" She yelled, running through the many levels of the parking garage, trying desperately to find him.
She finally found his crumpled form on the first floor, unconscious in a pool of his own energon. "Oh, Ratchet." She whispered, holding in tears for the second time that night as she dropped to her knees by his side, "Oh no…"
Moonracer began to try to stem the bleeding as Windblade arrived at her side.
"Moon, we gotta get him out of here." She urged and Moonracer nodded wordlessly. The two femmes struggled to hoist himi up as Windblade commed for a ground bridge.
Once they got him through the ground bridge and into the Medbay, Windblade began frantically hailing First Aid with comms as Moonracer hovered over the berth that Ratchet was dyeing blue with his energon, trying to staunch the bleeding.
When First Aid finally arrived, he took one look at the bloody scene, and immediately went to work.
"Hang in there, you old coot." He muttered worriedly to the unconscious Ratchet, gingerly tapping the older medic's Autobot insignia.
Windblade went back to see if everyone else had made it out okay while Moonracer stayed with First Aid, trying to assist him in any way she could.
Eventually, First Aid glanced up and caught the tear-stained, worried sick look on Moonracer's faceplates and said, "You need to get out of here."
"I'm okay." Moonracer wiped her optics shakily, "I want to stay and help."
"No, you actually need to leave." First Aid said firmly, still repairing Ratchet, "You're so damn anxious and worried that you're making me anxious, and I can't be anxious right now. So, please, just step outside for a little bit, okay Moonracer? I promise I'll let you know if anything changes."
Moonracer nodded mutely and stepped out of the Medbay, glancing back worriedly at the older medic before the door swung shut.
She sank onto the bench outside the Medbay, tears streaming down her faceplates as she resigned herself to waiting.
A few hours into the ordeal, Windblade came by to check on Moonracer. She sat down next to her on the bench, deciding now was not the time to stand. She informed Moonracer that everyone else had gotten out safely except Takomi, who had been taken by the Decepticons. The remaining Autobots had organized a rescue mission and were heading out now, fearing that Takomi had been snatched so the Decepticons could force him to build another detonator.
"Are you going?" Moonracer asked, wiping her faceplates quickly.
Windblade hesitated, "I don't...I don't want to leave you here like this."
"No, go." Moonracer waved her servo, "Do something productive. I hate the fact that I have to just sit here; I don't want you to have to too."
"Okay." Windblade said worriedly. She gave Moonracer a comforting pat on the back before heading out.
First Aid came out a little while later, tired and a bit shaky, and Moonracer immediately shot up.
"I've done all I can." First Aid sighed, "It's up to him to pull through now." He took a sinking seat on the bench and gestured for her to go inside.
Apprehensively, Moonracer nudged the door open and approached Ratchet's berth, tiptoeing like she was afraid to disturb the medic. Not much had changed; the medic was still sprawled on the medical berth, his once sharp optics dull and offline. One of his legs dangled carelessly off the edge of the berth. First Aid had at least repaired his wound, so now there was no fresh energon, only the dried crustiness of the berth.
Seeing him like this brought a fresh array of tears to Moonracer's optics. Hesitantly, she reached for his servo and threaded his digits between her own.
"Oh, Ratch." Her voice caught on his name, "Please. Please don't go. You can't leave me."
Moonracer had never noticed until this moment, but Ratchet's constant, comforting presence had always seemed to hover around the Medbay, warming it. Now, Moonracer was terrified to realize she could feel it beginning to fade.
"I'm so sorry." She whispered, bowing her helm to be closer to his, almost as if to ensure he would hear her, "I didn't mean to-I shouldn't have insulted you like that, Ratchet. And I hate to think-" She paused, swiping at her optics so that the tears wouldn't fall onto his faceplates, "I hate to think that the last time we spoke I-"
She gazed down at him, wishing for all the galaxy that she could tell him how her insides churned whenever he came too close. How she loved when she came to the Medbay and he was fully immersed in some madman project, optics gleaming with an indescribable happiness. How they could joke with ease, and he could make her laugh until her faceplates hurt from smiling so much. How even holding his servo right now was practically giving her a spark attack.
Instead of all of those wild, crazy, naive things that most likely would not be reciprocated, Moonracer said simply, "I'm sorry I said all those things about you Ratchet, but even if they were true….you're my rusty old geezer."
She bowed her helm lower, tucking her chin into her chassis, as Ratchet's optics silently flicked on. He regarded her with a confused expression, and realizing she couldn't see him at this moment, remained completely still. He studied her as his processor struggled to remember what those words she had just said were, as he was coming into consciousness. His optics widened slightly, realizing she was holding his servo.
Why in Pit is she holding my servo? He thought bewilderedly, Doesn't she think I'm just some old, gross mech? What in the name of the Allspark…
And then it clicked. He remembered what she'd said, that insane phrase that he must have misheard, She said 'You're my rusty old geezer'. Definitely with an emphasis on the 'my'. Oh Primus. What do I-
And then he told his processor to shut up. This was too much thinking; he needed to act. He needed a definitive act that would show her how much he cared, but that he could always pass off later as being some delusional thing he had done as a result of pain, if need be.
It was so simple.
He reached up with his servo and placed it lightly on her faceplates, startling her helm back up. She locked optics with him, and his dark blue optics studied hers for a moment, before he stretched up and caught her lips in a kiss.
Moonracer's optics widened, but her surprise was quickly overcome with a burst of all manners of emotion. There was elation, embarrassment, panic, confusion, and oh-so-much joy. Ratchet was kissing her and she was kissing back, barely able to believe it. She could tell he was experienced at this, which wasn't exactly a bad thing.
The kiss was, unfortunately, short lived as not a moment later, a large crashing sound startled them out of it, followed by a lot of swearing. First Aid had walked in to check on Moonracer, and was now glaring at them, a datapad smashed on the floor.
"Are you fragging kidding me?" He snapped, gathering the bits of datapad on the floor.
"Problem, First Aid?" Ratchet said bemusedly, and perhaps just a tad smugly, and the younger medic scowled at him, before switching his angry gaze to Moonracer.
"Moonracer, when I said 'You'll grow to love him', this wasn't at all what I meant." He vented deeply, appearing to try to calm himself down, and walked briskly over to check Ratchet's vitals, shooing Moonracer away. She gave Ratchet a fluttery little smile behind his back, and he winked back at her, before she walked shakily over to her desk and sat.
"I suppose you're pleased with yourself." First Aid growled quietly, quite hating his former instructor, as Ratchet grinned happily.
"Just a bit."
"Could you stop fragging rubbing it in my faceplates for ten seconds?"
"I'm just smiling."
"You're leering at me, I can feel it."
Ratchet simply smiled and said nothing in response, glancing over at the attractive and thoroughly embarrassed femme, thinking to himself wearily, This should be...interesting.