I only own my OC's!
~Ancilla College~
We pull up to the college, and I slide out before grabbing my backpack, then run for the door. I slip into class with only seconds to spare and set up my music before slipping one of my earbuds in—I'm allowed them because of my PTSD. I try to pay attention to the lesson, then head down to the free kitchen for the poor students like me, and warm up a Ramen Bowl before sitting down with my phone and read while I eat.
Sheyenne?
It's an unknown number, but I usually reply to them to at least ask who it is—then I remember giving my number to Ratchet before I had climbed out. Ratch?
Yes. How was class?
Good. I have another one at 2—Writing I—and I hate my teacher! I wish I could skip!
But you cannot.
Unless I want an F, which I don't.
What are you studying, if I may ask?
Health Sciences.
Health Sciences… Shey…
*shrug* I was inspired by a certain medic, all right?
Sheyenne…
I always wanted to be a doctor, but I knew I wouldn't be able to handle it because of my sensitive stomach, and my compassion slamming into me as hard as it does… But I decided that I couldn't let that stop me, and started college. Now here I am.
And I inspired you?
You, a doctor that saved my life when I was little, and a character on a medical drama I love.
That… Well, that explains why you would have been so hurt about Lockdown then…
Ratchet… don't remind me. I've already had one breakdown here because of that. I don't need another.
Sweetspark… You need to stop thinking about it. I'm alive, and that's all that matters.
Ratchet…I CAN'T…and it was for a project for Ethics, about the Autobot Code—I aced it, by the way.
That's good. I will let you go so you can finish eating.
Meet me outside?
Why?
I have an hour and a half before I have Writing I, so…"
I'll meet you by the lake. See you there.
I nod, and slip my phone into my pocket, keeping my earbuds in so I still have my music. I rush out the door and stop to slip off my jacket—it's still warm outside, but it's freezing inside—and tie it around my waist as I start for the lake.
"Hello."
I smile up at the neon green medic. "Hey." I turn to the left. "Walk with me?"
"Where are we going?"
"This way." I start walking toward a little serenity garden with the medic following. "We had a micro class out here a couple years ago."
"Years? Sheyenne, this is a two-year school."
"I'm aware of that." I sigh heavily. "Two years ago, I tried full time, flunked the semester because I'd taken too much on, cut back to part time, health went screwy for a year and a half, flunked the semester because meds knocked me out, got kicked out. I finally got back in, and today was my second day back."
"I see." He sighs before sitting on the ground a few feet away, causing me to give him a worried look. "Do not look at me like that."
I huff. "Are you okay? You're still not fully repaired, and—SHIT!"
"Language. This is a Catholic school." He sighs. "What is it?"
"Cybertronium." I lean on a tree, facing away from him. "Primus…"
"Sheyenne, please stop being cryptic and tell me what is wrong."
"Ratchet… they were melting you for your metal… For your Cybertronium."
"They would not get much of it out of me, I am afraid…"
I hit my knees. "No…"
"Shey?"
"The author was right… No… Primus, no… Not Ratch… Not this, not now!"
"Sheyenne…" I hear a sigh before he cups me in his hands. "Sweetspark, I will be all right."
I shake my head. "I…I can't lose you again… Not…not now… Not…not like this…"
"You are not going to lose me. I do not plan on dying any time soon."
"Ratch…" I shake my head, giving up on holding back, and start to cry into his hand. "I'm scared…" I flinch at a tingly feeling.
"Well…" He sighs. "Maybe learning you are not what you seem could get your mind off it?"
"Excuse me?" I blink, and dry my eyes with the hem of my dress. "Not what I seem?"
"Not human."
"Okay… Explain."
"You are one of us."
"But…" I motion to myself. "I'm tiny, Doc."
"You are still one of us." He looks me in the eye, which, surprisingly, isn't as uncomfortable as it is with humans. "I will survive this, Sheyenne. I have dealt with it for a long time, and I am not dead yet."
"You almost were…"
"I know, but I am here, and alive, now. You cannot focus on the future."
"Even I'm not promised tomorrow."
"Your health?"
I shrug. "It's just anxiety." He gives me a look. "Doc, it's just dizziness and headaches. I've got a PTSD screening in November."
"Just? That could be so many things."
"Iron and B vitamins on the low end of normal, but still in the normal range. CT and MRI both came back normal—and the CT was when I was going into EMS—tension headaches. Vestibular testing was inconclusive. It's not my ears, it's not my head, and it's not my blood."
"You are still using present tense."
"I'm still dizzy sometimes, too. I still struggle some days."
"And you tremble."
"I'm shaky because…well, you live with—wait…" I look up to him. "What… Er… Do you…"
"I get dizzy sometimes, and I struggle with headaches and I get shaky sometimes myself."
"Ratch…"
"You will need to know, Shey." He sighs. "I may run a fever or get sick sometimes, too, but do not worry about me. I have handled this for a long time."
"Okay…" I sigh heavily. "But I'll still worry about you. I can't help it."
"I guess I will have to accept that." He sighs. "I am here, though, and I have medicine for it."
