Ratchet tried to ignore the slight burning sensation that was beginning to crawl up his spinal strut. He knew that the heat was only his imagination, but he also knew that he was getting scowled at. Though he was loathe admitting it, this specific scowl worked on him better than most others.

"I am not letting you leave this med-bay and that is final." The medic finally snapped and turned to face Savannah.

"Eventually I will irritate you enough that you will throw me out." She replied primly. "And I hope it's soon… I hate being in one room for any length of time."

"You have said that multiple times already." Ratchet sighed in exasperation.

"And I'm going to continue saying it until you let me out."

"It's not going to happen."

"It will eventually."

The two of them scowled in each other's direction before Ratchet turned to some reports on his desk. Barely even a second later, a small projectile hit him in the back of the head and he whirled around to glare at Savannah. Who only gave him her most innocent look.

"Did you…"

"I have no idea what you are talking about." She sniffed.

Ratchet stared at her for several more seconds before locating the baseball that he assumed she had thrown at him. He scanned it and came to the conclusion that it wasn't rigged to a controller of some sort before he tried to figure out how she hit him with that much accuracy. Finally, he had to shrug and turn back to the reports.

Only to have another baseball hit him in the neck cables, with a growl he once again turned around and fixed Savannah with a glare that would make most mechs wilt. She however seemed to completely ignore the fact that she was getting glared at… even though he knew she heard him turn around and glare at her.

"Yes Ratchet?" She asked innocently.

"Where are you keeping them?"

"Where am I keeping what?" She replied with a huff. "Honestly Ratchet, I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You don't have any idea what I am talking about?" Ratchet stalked over to her bed and noticed how she seemed to push something slightly behind her. "What was that?"

"What was what?" She asked innocently.

"Savannah…" Ratchet stated firmly as he activated his holoform, though his voice continued to come from his actual self. "What do you have behind your back?"

"Nothing…" And she let out an 'eep' as Ratchet's holoform reached behind her and grabbed the last two baseballs that she had tried to hide from him.

"Where did you get these?" He sighed.

"Katrina gave them to me to practice my aim…" Savannah muttered.

"Why, pray tell, are you practicing on me?" Ratchet growled.

"Because you are the loudest and easiest thing to pinpoint in this room?" She replied with a slightly hopeful tilt to her voice.

Ratchet stared at her, then sighed and handed the projectiles back to her. "Try listening for the hydraulic lines in the lower back, and then throw them at that."

Savannah just gave him a look before shrugging and turning her head toward the door. Her brow knit in concentration as she listened to try and figure out who was walking down the hallway.

"I don't recognize those footsteps." She finally muttered.

Ratchet paused and stared at the door, he didn't recognize the spark signature coming toward the med-bay… He was half a second away from sending an alert comm. before the mech stepped into the room and stared at both Ratchet, who had subspaced a laser scalpel, and Savannah, who was holding one of the baseballs in a throwing position. Savannah was listening for the sound of Ratchet throwing whatever she knew he was holding before she threw hers.

"Smokescreen?"

"Hey Ratchet…" The mech sounded slightly worried about the projectiles aimed at him. "Um… Prowl sent me to get my 'customary planetary landing' check-up."

Savannah lowered her arm and sat back against the pillows behind her. The mech sounded nice, if not a little young. She listened closely and picked up the sound of doorwings swinging up tensely (which she only knew what they sounded like because of Bluestreak and Prowl) followed by the sound of shuffling feet.

"Yes, he failed to alert me to the fact that you were on your way… or even on planet." Ratchet muttered. "Savannah… this is Smokescreen. The younger sibling of Prowl, and the older sibling of Bluestreak."

"So you are a Praxian." Savannah smiled in his general direction. "I'm Savannah, the advisor to the Autobot liaison."

"I've heard about you already." Smokescreen laughed. "And what I've heard is nothing but good stuff. I have to say, everyone around here likes you."

"Really now?" Savannah laughed. "This is the first I've heard of this one."

"Smokescreen, sit on this berth so that you can talk while I run the diagnostics and check for injuries." Ratchet ordered as he moved toward his counters.

"Yes sir."

Savannah sat very still as Smokescreen walked over to the berth that she assumed Ratchet had motioned to. This mech had a very heavy, but surefooted walk. He obviously wasn't special or black ops, but his footsteps indicated that he was confident and easygoing too.

"So… Smokescreen, what do you do?" Savannah asked once he had gotten settled on the berth.

"I'm a tactician and the only psychologist that I know of." Smokescreen answered easily.

"And the resident gambler." Ratchet muttered.

"I'm not as bad as I could be, Ratchet. Even you can admit that I've mellowed quite a bit." Smokescreen shot back.

"You? Mellow? Don't make me laugh."

Savannah couldn't help but grin at the banter; she could tell that these two had been friends for a while. Ratchet was more relaxed than he had been since she had been rescued, and she was happy to hear the relaxed tone in his voice. Though she wondered why he was so… relieved that this new mech had arrived.

"So… Savannah, I've also been told that you were recently rescued…"

"Stop, right there. I do NOT want to talk about it." Savannah growled, she realized why Ratchet was so relieved now. "Especially not with a psychologist, I am not ready to speak about that with anyone yet."

Everything in the med-bay seemed to freeze as her words sank in. Savannah sat rigidly and glared in the general direction of the opposite wall. She was definitely not happy at that moment.

"Savannah…"

"Ratchet, I want to get out of this med-bay." Savannah stated firmly. "I need to get out. I need fresh air and I need to prove that I can still function like a normal human being."

"Savannah, I have already told you—" Ratchet trailed off mid-sentence when she just turned to look at him slowly. He saw her determination and the absolute need to get out of the one room.

"Please…" She finally asked quietly. "I need to get out."

Ratchet's optics narrowed and he cursed inwardly at his softer side. He was finally realizing that keeping her in the med-bay was not helping her in any way. She was a fragging human, not a Cybertronian. She would need the sunlight and fresh air to stay healthy.

"I'll take her if that's okay…" Smokescreen started.

"No." Savannah cut him off sharply. "I'm sorry… but because of past experiences with psychologists and therapists I do not trust them. I'm sure you're a great guy and all, Smokescreen, but I just… can't."

"I've contacted Jazz. He's on his way to get you." Ratchet stated soothingly. "But I swear, if you do anything that will cause yourself more stress or further injury I will thoroughly chew you out and throw things at Jazz before not letting him see you for a week."

"Understood." Savannah said quickly.

The med-bay once again fell into silence while waiting for Jazz to enter the room. It was an uncomfortable silence, mainly due to the fact that Savannah refused to even look in Smokescreen's direction. The moment the door slid open her entire posture changed, she sat up straighter and a small smile touched her face.

"Hey Kitten, I hear Ratchet's finally letting you out for a bit." Jazz grinned down at her as he walked over to her bed and offered her his hand.

"I know." She grinned back and stood up slowly before feeling her way over to his hand with her toes. Once she determined where his hand was she climbed into it and sat firmly in the center of his palm.

"I'll take good care of her 'Hatchet." Jazz stated before the two left the room.

Once the door closed and Jazz's footsteps had faded down the hallway Ratchet turned to Smokescreen.

"I'll fill you in so that you know what has happened, and then I will give you the records of her past therapy sessions. That way you will know that she means no harm by her refusal to speak with you." Ratchet sighed. "She signed the waver releasing the information to us before she became our Liaison…"

"Alright Ratchet, and I don't take any offense." Smokescreen smiled back at the frustrated medic. "I think she'll talk when she's ready… or if someone pushes her to talk about it. Prowl said she has family on base, maybe whoever that is could talk to her about it."

Ratchet paused and then nodded slowly as he thought the suggestion over. "I'll speak with Katrina about it. Now… on to your check-up."

Smokescreen groaned; he had hoped Ratchet had forgotten about that part.

~.~ ~.~

Well… there is chapter 17! Sorry for the wait guys. ^^'

Anywho… so… I've gotten caught up in the BBC Television series Sherlock and Doctor Who…

I highly suggest both TV shows to anyone who wants to watch them. Seriously…..

So, fair warning… I might have a Sherlock fanfic coming out soon…. Might… big word there might…

If you read it please review it! (not necessary, it's just nice to get some feedback sometimes!)

Until all are one,

Chistarpax

Beta'd by: Second daughter of eve

Posted: 9/24/13