Face Down Chapter 29
"Why cant I walk yet?!" Barricade's voice echoed throughout the med bay as Ratchet entered the mech's recovery room, the door slid shut behind the medic, blocking any farther noise to anyone in the main repair bay.
Ratchet had been expecting a response like this. Even Autobots were a bit upset following a surgery of this substantiality, only to find out that walking was still a distant goal. 'What is it with everyone and instant gratification?'
"You have obviously never experienced injuries of this magnitude before." Ratchet answered as he stepped up to the Decepticon's berth. "I'm a medic. I've been known to produce miracles, but I am no magician, nor am I Primus." He crossed his arms. "It will take some time for you to grow accustomed to your legs."
Barricade growled impatiently.
"Do tell me, what is it that you are in such a hurry to get back to?"
Silence.
"Your therapy starts tomorrow." Ratchet concluded at length, turning to leave.
"What?" The word was spoken, no, more like spat, with such venom, Ratchet was almost tempted to schedule to have the legs removed instead of giving the mech a chance to become acquainted with them.
"Physical therapy, you start tomorrow." The medic repeated.
"What the slag is that?"
'Such attitude.' "Oh, I forgot. Such practices are uncommon amongst the Decepticons. A mech suffering from your wounds is more often then not left to die. Of course you wouldn't know what physical therapy is."
"Are you going to answer the fragging question or glitch at me all morning?" Barricade's patience was running as thin as molecular dust, not that he ever demonstrates a capability of possessing more, at least not with Ratchet. Funny how alike they seemed at times.
"There are exercises and rehabilitation procedures that you must master before you will recover full use of your lower half. You start these tomorrow."
"I don't need any pit spawned rehabilitation slag."
Ratchet felt his cooling systems kick on as his energon heated up. "Oh really? Well, why don't we just go for a little bout in the practice rooms? I'm sure Ironhide would be more then happy to put you through your paces."
The medic was pleased that he didn't get a response out of the mech. A triumphant smile forming on his lip components as he exited into the main repair room, 'I may have won a battle, but the war still rages.' He thought dryly.
--
"I bet you a tank of high grade he won't cooperate."
First Aid looked over at Burnout. She had been, wisely, keeping her distance from the CMO for the past week or so. In turn, keeping her distance from the med bay. Though, considering her absence, the Decepticon was still in a fairly decent mood. He knew she was sneaking in under his superior's optics somehow. 'I wonder how she would react if I revealed my observations?' He thought as the femme fiddled with an empty low- grade energon cube. 'Maybe I will talk to her in the future.'
"You don't consume high grade."
"Yeah, but I can trade it with the twins for something good."
"If I take the bet, I might as well pay up now. There is no doubt in my processor that the medical wing is going to be a very dangerous place tomorrow. A recovering Decepticon being the least of our worries."
"Guess we had better block off that hallway. Don't want any bystanders being injured, that would really add fuel to Ratchet's fire." Burnout let a smirk play at her mouth component.
"I think I am going to go talk to Sunny and see about getting some of their personal high grade, if I over energize now, my circuits will be too fried to be of any use in the morning." First Aid's voice had taken on a touch of hysteria at the mere thought of being in Ratchet's presence during another of the medic's rampages.
Burnout snorted and looked away as First Aid's optics suddenly dimmed slightly indicating that he was receiving a private transmission.
Sighing, the assistant stood up. "I've been summoned." All hopes of talking the twins out of some of their precious personal stock were blown out the after burner. Considering it was their fault he was being called in from his break early.
"Serious, or is it safe to stop in for a visit?" She needed to check in on Ratchet; even if they were angry at each other he was still her friend.
"It's Ironhide and the twins, you be the judge."
"As long as Prowl isn't thrown in I'm willing to test my luck." Burnout joked as her optics caught an odd floating orb. Reaching out to catch it, she blinked when the mysterious thing popped. Glancing at Aid who simply shrugged his shoulders, the two continued down the hall to 'Ratchet's torture chamber'.
--
First Aid and Burnout walked into the med bay a few minutes later, both stopping and looking around in confusion. Floating as peaceful as can be, were hundreds of delicate orbs, ranging in size from a small microchip to the radius of a human head. Each one popping as soon as it made contact with anything that interrupted it's graceful flight pattern.
Glancing at each other, both had to fight to keep their faces straight, as Ironhide's angered voice seemed to cause the very room to vibrate.
"I went to the firin' range Ratchet, but instead of plasma blasts, my cannons started spewin' this slag!"
"I know where this is going." Burnout whispered as they slowly made their way around a corner to where the large black mech was seated on a table.
"Then I caught those sniveling turbo-monkeys playin' round with spare parts that should have been in my-"
"Needless to say, you slagged them both." Ratchet's impatient voice interrupted from a few tables down. A red mech on one side, a yellow one on the other, the medic was working between the two. Soldering an energon line here, reconnecting a wire there.
Aid left Burnout's side to assist the CMO. The femme, working hard to keep her face straight as Ironhide's stern gaze fell on her, walked confidently to the mech's side. It was a very interesting sight. The most feared weapon's specialist ever known in Cybertronian history, sitting up on the exam table, brandishing the fiercest arm cannon on this side of the solar system, but with only one small glitch. It was pumping out pretty little bubbles instead of cold steel bullets or red-hot plasma.
Burnout motioned for the mech to extend his arm and began to examine the device. Every time he flexed his massive hands, another wave of delicate spheres erupted from the multi-barreled weapons. Much to the displeasure of the owner. Secretly she congratulated the pranksters for the quality of workmanship that went behind a reconfiguration of this type. It would have been way easier to just remove the original cannon and replace it with a fake, but Ironhide would have known immediately. Instead they completely rewired the ammunition routs to a small container situated in an empty subspace. A few adjustments and a couple of extra parts later, Ironhide was situated with a very large and very mean looking bubble blowing cannon.
'He must recharge extremely heavy or those two got into some of Ratchet's chemicals again.' She thought as she carefully worked on extracting all foreign materials out of the weapon master's arms.
To Ironhide's surprise and annoyance, she shamelessly reached into the said subspace and pulled out the near empty container, linked to his cannon only by a thin tube weaved strategically through his arm wiring.
"I have bad news Ironhide." Burnout explained keeping as straight and serious of a face as possible while showing the mech the 'ammo'. "Your almost out of ammunition."
The femme wasn't upset by the conclusion that Ironhide probably wouldn't let her perform any repairs on him in the future. But the expression on his face was completely worth it.
--
It was day three of Barricade's therapy sessions and Ratchet was beginning to wonder which mech was really the one in need of therapy.
"This would go by so much quicker and be easier on both of us if you would just cooperate." The medic growled out as Barricade continued to refuse working at the exercise. It was simple, just step up onto the slightly elevated platform, step down, repeat.
"I'm not holding onto those slagging bars."
"Then fall on your aft! For Primus' sake, would you quit being such a-"
Ratchet's rant was cut short by the sound of the med bay doors opening. "I swear to Primus." He hissed under his breath. "There had better be a good fragging reason for this." He continued to growl and mumble as he looked over to see who had interrupted him.
"Burnout! Aren't you supposed to be on duty?!"
The femme snapped to attention, obviously she had been looking for him but not expecting to see the medic in Barricade's recovery room.
"Err, my shift is over Ratchet. It's been over for almost two hours."
This led to a renewed string of Cybertronian curses. Barricade stood back, a little unsteadily, as Ratchet huffed around the room gathering the gear that he had attempted to get Barricade to use.
Burnout approached the Decepticon's room, leaning gently on the doorframe.
"So what has he been trying to get you to do?" She asked after Ratchet's noisy departure.
Barricade's scarlet optics had been resting on her delicate frame. Burnout could almost feel the weight of them, but chose to ignore it. This was the first time she had seen him returned to his full height and his presence was unsettling. She expected that at any moment he would leap on her, snatching her into his room, and hold her for ransom. But she knew deep down that he was not being motivated by the Decepticon cause any longer, that even though he was miserable here, amongst the Autobots, it was better then being out there. He had changed, he no longer saw her as something inferior and a plaything to simply over power.
She still couldn't completely ignore her uneasiness.
"Pointless, CPU numbing exercises that a sparkling could do in its sleep. It's horribly degrading."
"Well are you any good at them?" Burnout pressed, she flinched a little when his optics narrowed and the orbs flashed dangerously.
"They are degrading." He growled, his temper was already short from bickering with the pit-spawned medic all morning; all he needed was Burnout on his case too.
"Well so is not being able to walk for the rest of your natural life." Burnout had crossed her arms stubbornly, if only to hide her shaking hands. His presence was more intimidating than she wished to admit. Every instinct that had been ingrained in her processor from her years in Decepticon clutches were screaming at her. "It's your choice. You could remain helpless, tucked away in a forgotten quarter of the Autobot base, or you could work at doing a few of these pointless exercises. I do enough volunteer work around here to earn your keep. An off duty mech doesn't consume a lot, so it doesn't bother me."
Barricade nearly fell over, if it wasn't for the support bar that Ratchet had left behind, the mech would have tumbled to the ground. Burnout smirked at the reaction she had created.
"You worked off my debts?" Barricade finally questioned. He had been secretly wondering about how his repairs and maintenance had been being financed, he just didn't know who or how to bring it up. If he were with the Decepticons he would have had to pay upfront in whatever form would be useful for the said medic. 'If I were with the Decepticons, I would not be functioning any longer.' He concluded grimly. He owed the Autobots a lot, not just reimbursement for their time and medical treatment, but for his life. He quickly deleted that train of thought; the day he admitted to owing the Autobots anything was the day pit freezes over.
"You weren't in any condition to. The only desk jobs are in the control room and I don't think even Prime has enough faith in a turncoat to allow one in there."
Her blunt statement shocked him slightly, but he brushed it aside. Instead, he began carefully going through one of the coordination exercises that Ratchet had been short-circuiting over in his attempt to get the Decepticon to cooperate.
Burnout took a hasty step back. "What are you doing?" She questioned with a slight tremor in her voice.
"Demonstrating the exercises." He replied. "You would think my weapon's system wasn't disconnected by the way you jump away." He was picking on her now, but he hoped it wasn't too much.
The femme bristled, then to his surprise she stomped over the threshold of his recovery room. Marching straight over to the unsteady mech, she surprised him even more by gently shoving his arm. What little sense of balance the mech had re programmed over the last three days went straight to pit as he started to fall over, so astonished by her actions, he was already too far off balance to right himself. A stifled yelp exited his voice compactor as he fell onto the recharge berth.
"I think you need to practice that one a little more." She chortled before practically skipping out of his quarters.
"Fragging femme." Barricade growled as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Knowing that he should have been so angry he would have been fit to be tied, the mech did all he could to resist the smile that played at his lip components. He looked forward to the day that he could chase after her again.
Standing back up he worked a little more diligently at the exercises that Ratchet had showed him.
