**Author's Aside: I don't normally share my creative process, but I found some sentimental attachment to music while writing this chapter. I wanted to share a few of the songs that really lay down an ambience I just can't put into words. Can be listened to as a primer or quietly while reading though. "Some Place We Called Home" - This War of Mine/Piotr Musial, "With You" - Jhove, "Dear to Me" - Towerz**
A subdued atmosphere hung on the Autobot base like a heavy wool blanket, the soft morning sunshine quietly glowed across the sands with little wind to speak of. No screeching of machining rang out from the new hangar, no jovial voices bounced off the walls of the entry hangar in the chow line, no engines growled under transport duty. Everything was still.
Gathered together in the long hall around the medical bay door stood Ironhide, Mirage, Arcee, and Bumblebee holding Danielle in his palm. Motionless and silent around their feet, donned in their dress blues, stood General Reims, Colonel Lennox, several of the NEST team that had served with their Cybertronian allies, and many of the injured, some aided by crutches and wheelchairs. Only soft breaths and occasional muffled coughs disturbed the quietude.
Optimus studied the Autobot emblem of his old friend, cold and well worn around the edges, as it sat in the middle of his servo. It did no justice to the loyalty or the memory of Ratchet, but it still seemed appropriate to recognize the space he had unwaveringly filled on the team.
Optimus faced the assembled with a funereal sobriety. "Ratchet has finally returned to be one with the Allspark, to be home at last after all these centuries of war... We were not ready to begin fighting without him." Optimus paused, gliding his thumb over the face of the badge. "Faultless devotion to any bot who required his skills, stranger or ally, Ratchet tended to their repairs and dispensed any necessary lecture on being more careful next time."
Ironhide scoffed mildly, knowing the old bot's penchant to chastise. Bee wanted to smile despite his heavy spark at the memories of Ratchet's reprimands when fixing him up after innumerous reckless escapades.
"He avoided combat where he could," Optimus continued "but he would dive headfirst into the thickest losing battle to rescue the wounded, heedless of any risk to his own life because saving them was all that mattered… Better than I could ever explain it, he once confided in me "I can't save them all. I learned that truism a long time ago, on countless battlefields. But still, no matter how many I help... a hundred, a thousand... it's the one that I fail that haunts me!"
A small hole had been drilled into the back of the badge, which Optimus, under the somber regard of his allies, raised to delicately install on a nail centered above the "Medical Bay" sign.
"His death will not be wasted. His legacy will achieve more than he could have known. We must press on, but never forget those that can no longer escape our past."
The silver glinted on the wall, its proud shine and hard-earned scuffs stark against the concrete.
Slowly, each word a pull on his spark, Optimus spoke into the silence with finality, "I will miss you, old friend."