The only noise in the room was a soft tapping that resonated throughout the darkness ominously. It was wet sounding in nature, like dripping. The room's singular occupant couldn't bring himself to care about the steady, annoying sound. It was possibly the only thing keeping him from going absolutely mad in the pitch black room. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to move or turn on the lights. It was as though the strength had been sapped from him.

For the past three hours, he had sat here silently; and he planned to continue to do so.

Then, his optics were assaulted with unwelcome light. Scowling, he dipped his helm down further to avoid it, wondering which of his fool apprentices were idiotic enough to disturb him at this point in time. It was nothing short of stupid.

"C'mon Ratch'... Ya' can't do this to yerself." The voice that greeted Ratchet had him freezing. That was not the vocalization of either of his medic trainees. His denta ground together firmly. The owner of that voice was someone that had no self preservation- not on the battlefield, and not in everyday life. It was a stubborn, annoying habit of his. But, the CMO scoffed, he shouldn't be surprised.

That was only to be expected from Jazz; one of the few 'bots who dared to take on Megatron single-handedly, without a drop of fear.

"Leave." The gruff, angry, low command did little to dissuade the silver bot from his personal mission,

"Naw, don' be like tha', Ratchet!" The saboteur scolded him with a huff, "This is downrigh' childish an' you know it!" Jazz didn't often lose his temper. In fact, he was the last Autobot you would expect to blow up, apart from Optimus. Laid back and easy going, it was difficult to get under his 'skin', so to speak. But Ratchet's sensors were picking up on strained vocal notes in Jazz's voice. He was at the end of his rope.

"I don't need a lecture from you." His spark rattled in its casing, silently telling Jazz off in its own way; it was overprotective. Ratchet's relationship with Bobbi was none of the annoying bot's concern, and his very essence was in agreement with that.

Jazz groaned, running a hand over the top of his head, and to the back of his neck. A habit he had picked up from watching the Earthlings interact. With a heavy sigh, he reached over and twisted the knob on Ratchet's sink; stopping the steady dripping noise that had been the CMO's only companion for awhile.

Then, the annoying Autobot perched himself on the edge of Ratchet's beloved desk. Feeling his scowl deepening, Ratchet eyed Jazz's rump- and its position- with no small amount of disdain. Primus himself only knew where that had been.

Ratchet sure as pit didn't want to know.

"Ratchet." The CMO's optics flicked up to Jazz's visor in startlement. It had been literally vorns since Jazz had spoken without his accent. Without any trace of his normal, happy-go-lucky, excitable nature. It caught Ratchet's attention and held it. Jazz rarely got this serious; and the doctor could feel it, thrumming through the very air. His lips pressed into a tight line, and he crossed his white, red lined arms; meeting Jazz's gaze head on, though it gave him no small amount of discomfort.

"I get where you're coming from, I am." The silver Autobot's voice had taken on a soft, accepting cadence, "You want to keep her safe. Need to. Your spark demands it." Jazz shook his head, a rueful smile on his face, "I've been there, done that. It's a part of what we are. But you need to also understand that Bobbi is a grown woman. She makes her own decisions. Yes, you should have a say, but in the end, it's her choice, you know? This…" Jazz waved a hand around him, indicating the situation they found themselves in, "Your just going to make her unhappy, and in the end, hate you."

Ratchet continued to simply stare at him.

"Humans need freedom, Ratchet." Jazz's voice was soft, his brow furrowed with an urgency Ratchet couldn't quite place, "They need it like light and water. Without it, they crumble and wilt." the silver bot fell quiet after that.

He needed Ratchet to understand. Needed him to see. But he couldn't make him. There wasn't a way to make the stubborn, thick helmed CMO see. Jazz would have to wait until Ratchet saw it for himself. Decided, for himself, what was best.

"Are you done?" The grouchy medic groused, and Jazz's spark fell to his pedes as he realized his suspicions were correct.

"Apparently so, doc bot." Jazz grinned easily again; and Ratchet could practically see the walls that had come down for a moment, slam back up around Jazz's spark. A twinge of regret attacked him, but it was distant and brief.

Ratchet didn't want to own up to it. Not yet.

"I don't need a lecture from you." The medic barked, repeating his previous words, but there was less fire behind it this time.

"Well, it's good that I'm no' th' one given ya' one." Jazz chuckled, sliding off Ratchet's desk and heading for the door, "He is."

Ratchet's expression widened as the saboteur exited the room, skimming around a very large figure that took up almost his entire doorway. His fingers curled tightly into his palm, and the medic resisted the urge to snarl at him to get out.

He didn't deserve that, but honestly, Ratchet felt ganged up on.

"Optimus." Instead, he chose to greet his lifelong friend civilly, taking measures to keep his voice steady and calm. But anyone could pick up on the strained notes in his voice if they listened closely. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if a human could- and they didn't even have vocal recognition programming.

"Ratchet, old friend." Optimus rumbled gently, his expression kind and patient, "May I come in?" it was only formality. Ratchet had a feeling that if he said no, it would simply result in the Prime coming in, anyway, and possibly start a fight he really didn't feel like being a part of. Fighting with the love of his life was hard enough without also having to fight one of his closest friends and allies. So, he didn't.

"Yes. Here," Ratchet grunted, starting to get up,

"Don't worry, Ratchet, I can get it." Optimus rumbled, grabbing the chair that had been shoved over in the corner, and dragging it back to the front of Ratchet's desk. The CMO sank back into his seat with a tired sigh, relaxing, even as his leader settled into the seat across from him.

It was quiet for a moment; and unlike before, Ratchet didn't welcome it. This time, it felt… oppressive, almost.

"How did you do it?" The quiet strain in the medic's voice was painful, "With Elita-One. How did you… how did you do it?"

"Hm." Optimus sighed, leaning back in his chair; his battle worn, tired optics settled on Ratchet contemplatively. It had been a long time since Elita-One's passing, but Ratchet knew the wound would never fully heal. The pain of losing a mate was painful, soul wrenching, and he hated bringing her up like this, because he knew it would tear at Optimus's spark.

But the silence, combined with Ratchet's confused pain and struggle, had pushed him to ask. He needed guidance, regardless of what he thought.

"Sometimes, trying to keep your loved one safe, is what kills them." Prime spoke slowly, softly, "The best you can do, is ready them for what's out there. Teach them, be there for them. It hurts, but I've found it's all you can do, in the end."

It was pure truth. Honest and guileless. But that didn't stop it from hurting.

"I can't do that." Ratchet clenched his denta, "I can't do this, Prime. I can't keep patching her up." he didn't need to say her name. They both already knew who he was talking about.

"I know, old friend, I know." Optimus sighed. He had been in Ratchet's place before; though he had never had to be the one operating on Elita when she was injured.

He still knew the feeling of panicked helplessness. The feeling of desperation as you clawed at what little you had left in an empty attempt to keep the war from taking it- as greedy as it was. It was difficult things like this that made Optimus wonder what was the truly right thing to do.

Let the loved one continue doing what they want to do, supporting them the best you could? Or let go of the loved one's happiness, and keep them in the safest place you can, locked up at home? It was a painful, painful decision. One Optimus had nearly broke at making; and one he wished Ratchet didn't have to make.

They were quiet for some time, both lost to their own thoughts.

"If I could just keep her with me…" Ratchet voice was quiet, pained, "If I could just keep and make sure she's safe. I could prevent so many of these injuries…" he slumped low in his chair, suddenly feeling the fight drain out of him.

He couldn't step away from the war; it just wasn't an option. He refused to abandon this cause, or his friends. It was simply unthinkable. But Ratchet acknowledged that if Bobbi stopped being a soldier, they would fire her and send her off- the likelyhood of him seeing her again was low, even if he tried to keep in contact with her.

This was the best compromise Ratchet could think of; he just didn't know how to achieve it.

Optimus was silent for several long minutes. Unknown to the medic across from him, his mind was whirling, gears churning for some desperate shred of an idea that would help his CMO. And then, it came to him. Like Primus himself has smacked him upside the helm, Optimus was struck with a brilliant idea.

"What if…" His rumbling voice was soft and slow, "You could?"

Ratchet sat up a little, hope brightening within his spark, "What do you mean?" he narrowed his eyes a little at Optimus, squinting as though to see through to his mind and read the idea his Prime had come up with.

"Here, listen…" Optimus leaned forward, unable to help the little smile that graced his lips; and Ratchet followed suit, all one hundred percent of his attention focused on Prime. It took Optimus several minutes to fully explain his idea, and even then, it was clear there were some kinks to work out; but Ratchet was intrigued.

"Good idea, Optimus." The CMO mused, his entire form relaxing further with trust and gratitude, "And we could extend this to the other Autobots."

"Yes." Optimus nodded, "I suspect this will also cut down on human and Autobot deaths."

Ratchet grinned roguishly at that, "Careful Prime, keep that up and I might lose my job."

"I doubt that, old friend." Optimus chuckled, a lightness in his spark he hadn't had in what felt like millenia- then again, it may have actually been that long. He grimaced as he stood- it wasn't terribly far fetched. Then, Optimus smiled and reached over the desk, clasping a hand on Ratchet's shoulder.

"Now that this has been cleared up… I believe you owe someone an explanation, if not an apology." Prime's voice was gentle and kind, with patience sprinkled on top like a soothing balm,

"Yes." Ratchet sighed, his spark quaking a bit at the thought of the pain it had accidentally, inadvertently caused his human. He hadn't meant to; but the fact remained that he had. A simple apology wouldn't be enough.

Ratchet knew that much.

"I will be here if you need me." Optimus released Ratchet's shoulder, and headed for the door- but stopped midway of opening it, "And Ratchet?"

"Yes Prime?" Ratchet looked up at his leader hesitantly, unsure of what he was going to say next. For all the time he had known Optimus in, and all the time he had spent fixing him up and fighting alongside him- he still had trouble reading his Prime at times.

"Next time, please, come to me. You know I never mind your visits; especially if you need something." Ratchet jolted a little at his words. Of all the things he had thought Optimus would say- that hadn't been one of them. He considered those words for a long minute; and Prime patiently waited.

It made him slightly guilty, to know that he had, by some measure, wasted Optimus's time. If he had simply gone to him to begin with, he wouldn't not have had to hunt Ratchet down- possibly with Jazz's help- and taken time off from his busy schedule.

So, at last, Ratchet nodded sharply.

"Yes, Optimus."

(AN: Bobbi gets an unusually even tempered visit from Ironhide; and Ratchet gets a Jazz followed closely by an Optimus. Who smack him upside the helm and tell him he's being a dumb.

Very important job, don't'cha know.

Also; AAAAUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHH! This was supposed to be done AGES ago. But, of course, doc decides to be an ass and whack on healing shit and break some more shit. Apparently, my kidney function was so low, they were terrified they was gonna stop functioning. Turns out, my medication to fix my stomach problems only led to hurting my poor kidneys. BUT! I'm doing loads better, and I swear, by Primus himself, this story will get FINISHED if its the last bloody thing I do!

So strap in tight loves :D Its gonna get hella bumpy!

Leave me a review, da? I love feedback; especially those that help me grow as an author. Whole reason I'm here, after all. ;D)