A/N: Thanks as usual to my beta, sidekicks-anonymous, for her work on this chapter.
Thanks so much for everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, and followed! Your warm response means a lot to me!
GUEST: Thanks so much! I hope you continue to enjoy it. :)
...
CHAPTER 2
Touch-Up
"So, how much do you actually know about the medical field?"
,Ratchet grimaced a little as he looked away from Siren. He wished that the older mech hadn't asked him that, because he knew he was going to sound bad. None-the-less, he thought quietly about how to respond to the mech's question as they stood in his office. "Well I um... You see, sir..." Ratchet tried to stammer out his words.
"You know close to nothing, do you?" Siren asked, to which Ratchet nodded his head in defeat. "That's alright, youngling. Give it a few orns, you'll probably catch on quicker than you think. For now, we'll just get you started with the basics."
"The basics?" Ratchet asked curiously.
Siren chuckled, pulling something out of his desk. "General data filling, patient intake, perhaps answering a few comm calls for me." Siren explained. "I'll let the mech that will be training you handle the rest of it, given we've hired you to replace him. He'll be happy to help, I think."
Ratchet paused. So he wouldn't be training under Siren? He guessed it was silly to believe he would, on second thought. The only reason he'd train under a medic was if he were going to be one himself. He wasn't entirely sure that was his thing. "I suppose that's alright. Though, if you don't mind me asking, who will I be training with?"
"That would be me."
Ratchet turned towards the doorway to Siren's office. Almost immediately, he felt his breath catch in his metal throat, attempting to not panic. The mech was probably among the tallest he'd ever seen, with a large, muscular red frame to match. He peered at him with blue optics, and tried not to chuckle at the smaller mech's surprise. "So this is the new trainee, huh? Heh, looks like you could use a paint job." He spoke with a young-ish voice, surprising Ratchet greatly. "Let me know if ye need one, I got a mech for that."
"Ironhide." Siren warned calmly, at which the mech stopped. "Ratchet, this is Ironhide. He's the best clerical assistant I've had for years. But he's decided to go to Iacon Academy for a degree in his sire's station, in the weapon's building division. You'll be taking over for him."
Ironhide grinned, his optics lighting up. Ratchet got the feeling that he was trying to look friendly, but he still seemed intimidating. "Don't let my frame frighten you too much. I'm not too violent if you don't frag me off." He chuckled. "Yeah, being in the medical field was fun for a while, but I've been designing my own weapons since I was the size of a scraplet. Just like my old mech."
"Your sire designs weapons, then?"
"Sort of. He does it still, yeah, but he also runs the entire weapons building division." Ironhide pointed out proudly. "I'm sure you've heard of him, Titan. Or my grandsire, Kup. He's even better known given he was a war hero and all. Got a kind of famous family."
Ratchet hadn't heard of Titan, but he had heard of Kup. Cybertron had fought in few combats, and he'd forgotten the war Kup had fought in, but he was a legend. "Wow, that's pretty cool." Ratchet replied, rubbing the back of his helm.
"Yeah, what do your creators do?"
Ratchet was silent, uncertain of how to respond to that. After a moment, Siren looked ready to speak up for him, so he finally answered. "I don't know what they do anymore. My creators ran out on me when I was eight, and my sire terminated a mech." Ironhide looked surprised at that. "But before that, my sire was a factory worker and my carrier was unemployed."
Ratchet knew the truth would come out eventually. So why not air it out now? He had nothing to hide, after all. Everyone here would know his past one way or another.
"'Ey, don't look so sorry for yourself. I have a friend who was adopted into our caste who had it even worse." Ironhide told him, slapping Ratchet on the back. "The past may make the mech, but the harder the past, the stronger ya are. That's what grandsire's always told me."
Ratchet couldn't help but smile at that. Still, he could feel himself tensing a little more. Who knew if any of these high caste Cybertronians were being sincere, or if they were planning to trick and humiliate him. "Yeah, well, it's alright. I'm not ashamed, it's made me tougher for it." Ratchet agreed. "Though you're right about the paint job. It came with the adult frame that... Well..." He paused. Did he say the center?
Ironhide didn't seem to catch ont. "Hey, it's nothing a touch up can't fix. I'll take ya after work to this nice shop owned by my friend."
Ratchet raised his optic ridges. "What? You're friends with an artist?"
Ironhide snorted a bit, crossing his arms slowly. "Why? Because I'm high up means I can't make friends with who I want? I don't care about what mechs think, they can kiss my fragging aft." Siren shot a warning glance again. "Sorry, Siren, pardon my choice of words. But it's true."
Ratchet didn't know what to make of that attitude at all. Of any of their attitudes, for that matter. He knew they had to be a minority of the high caste if they were serious, but it still surprised him. "I've just never heard of mechs or femmes in the high caste treating anyone below them well. Except if they adopt, but that's because they know the kid'll be in their caste." He then added. "Or are you only treating me like this because I'm in yours now?"
"Didn't I just tell you I'm friends with an artist? That's as middle caste as it gets." Ironhide seemed mildly offended by the statement. "Another friend of mine's family works in our weapons factory. Hardest workin' mech I've ever met. So don't go accusing me of discriminating. I'll have you know that I'm the last mech to do it."
Ironhide turned around, and exited the room, seeming flustered. When Ratchet turned to look to Siren for an explanation, the older mech sighed. "Not all high castes believe themselves above others. Ironhide's grandsire Kup faced his own adversity when young. He was created by mining-caste parents." Ratchet's face fell. Siren continued. "It was only when he was drafted into the Quintesson War and became a heroic sergeant that they welcomed him into the high castes. Then his own sire had to prove himself intelligent enough to be a part of the science caste at all, since his sire was known as a Military Leader. Most thought he was a military brat."
Ratchet tried to speak, but found himself unable to. Knowing Ironhide's family came from humble beginnings did open his optics, if only a smidge. Though he couldn't imagine going from mining, to military, to high-caste military leader like Kup had. The thought of going to the science caste from having no caste at all had been scary enough.
"I... Had no idea." Ratchet admitted.
Siren nodded, looking thoughtfully at the young mech. "Few mechs work their way into castes these days unless they're like you, which is probably why it didn't occur to you." He explained. "No one is like Kup anymore. You're born into a level of caste and you stay there, whether you change functions or not."
Ratchet was silent for a moment. "Were you part of the lower caste?" He asked.
Siren shook his head. "No, I simply was not raised to look down upon others." He explained, with a small smile. "I come from a family of higher caste members. But that doesn't make me any better than even the poorest miner."
Ratchet blinked again. "You're strange." He replied honestly.
"Maybe. But I don't think you should be complaining." Siren nodded. "Now follow Ironhide, and apologize."
Ratchet paused a moment. "Apologize? It's my nature to feel wary of mechs who -"
"It's your nature, but it doesn't make you any more right." Ratchet paused a moment at the words of Siren, taking them in. "I may not be your sire. But I am taking care of you, and am far older to you, so I'm going to give you a piece of advice anyway. Ironhide's a good mech, and you'd do right to make friends with him. So apologize."
Ratchet grunted, not sure how to respond to that. "Fine." He groaned.
He went to meet the mech again outside.
Turns out, Ironhide would only accept his apology if he let him prove he was a good mech to him.
Ratchet didn't know why it mattered exactly. But all the same, at the insistence of Siren, he agreed to follow Ironhide to the office of his artist friend. Given he was middle caste, it wasn't a long walk from the office as they left that night. Though Ratchet really didn't care, it felt like joors as he followed Ironhide towards what he was almost certain was a trap.
Not for the first time, he was proven wrong.
Eventually, they'd made their way to a small painting garage. It was big, with a bright sign that read "THRUSTER'S BODY SHOP" above it. The building was brightly colored, and seemed inviting. Still, Ratchet couldn't help but feel a little nervous as Ironhide approached the door, opening it. "Do I really have to see a mech I don't know for a touch-up to earn your forgiveness?" Ratchet questioned. "I don't feel right taking a hand-out."
Ironhide huffed, looking at the mech with narrowed optics. "You questioned if I'm a good mech or not. And that bothers me. Sure, I forgive ya if it means that much to you that I do it now. But I still insist you let me show you that mechs in the high caste can be sincere." He explained, pushing Ratchet roughly through the door. "I'm training ya, so I can't let you continue not to trust me."
Ratchet stiffened as they stood in the large, steel colored interior of the garage. He crossed his armst, staring around at the different paints lining the walls, and the different color schemes on display. "You're gonna learn quickly that I don't trust anyone easy. You may not have been in foster care, but I was." He explained. "And it hurt my ability to trust more than a lot of mechs or femmes care to understand."
"If it makes ya feel any better... We had some rough times too." Ironhide paused a long moment as he started that sentence. "I lost my carrier and older brother when I was six vorns old. They died in a crash on the way home one night." He explained.
Ratchet suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for Ironhide. Especially given he had mentioned a brother of his own, a brother he had lost. "I can relate to losing your brother." Ratchet replied quietly.
"Why? Did you have a brother that died?"
Ratchet cringed. He was glad that wasn't the case, though he guessed he couldn't be sure. He hadn't seen First Aid in so long... "No, he, uh... He was adopted by a family that kicked me out." Ratchet responded honestly. "I haven't seen him since I entered foster care for the first time."
"You could probably track him down now that you're of age." Ironhide replied.
Ratchet shook his head solemnly. "Wouldn't know where to start. They moved away while I was still in care, no one would tell me anything." He replied honestly, his voice tense. "Besides the family was really good to him, and really affluent. I wouldn't want to ruin that for him by barging into his life."
Ironhide looked ready to respond when a shout grabbed both of their attentions. "That you, 'Hide!? Don't tell me you got into another fight again. I can only do so many touch-ups!" Ratchet turned his head as a mech appeared from a back room. "Oh slag, it's worse than I thought. You brought your opponent!"
Ratchet gave the mech a once over. His looks were surprising The mech was tall and slender, with blue and silver plating, and golden optics. Different, colorful designs lined his plating, and his finish gleamed so brightly you could see your reflection in it. He looked Ratchet over a bit, then at Ironhide. "What did you do to the poor mech? His whole frame's a mess too!"
Before Ratchet could defend himself, Ironhide spoke up. "Sorry to bother ya, Thruster. Not an opponent this time, actually. A new friend, from the lower castes." Ironhide motioned. "This is Ratchet. I'm gonna be paying for him to get a full touch-up. He's going to be joining the science caste, and I don't want him walking around embarrassed like he is."
Thruster gave Ratchet another once over, humming thoughtfully. He carefully checked a clock on the wall, then looked between the two of them. "I don't know if I got time, Ironhide. I gotta go relieve Fusion of Knock Out duty, given she's had him eight joors now and has to get to work." He answered, putting his hands on his hips before pointing a clawed finger at Ratchet. "And he looks like he'll need a lot more than a minor touch-up."
"Forgot you got a sparkling now. How's sirehood?" Ironhide asked.
"Heh, its a right pain in the aft most days. But I love the little bugger." Thruster explained with a chuckle. "Named him Knock Out because he's got knock-out good looks, just like his sire."
Ratchet repressed laughter. This mech was so eccentric. "I like it." Ironhide nodded. "Now, I really would appreciate it if you'd just do me this favor. Ratchet here is starting at Siren's clinic and imagine how many mechs and femmes you'll get in here if they know you pulled off this transformation."
Thruster stroked his chin, looking Ratchet over again. Said mech wasn't sure how he felt about being an advertisement in that way. But if it meant that he no longer looked like he'd been through a war and lost, he supposed it wasn't a big deal. "Well, it's gonna be more than a touch-up. I can probably fix the plating good as new too." Thruster explained, examining it closely. "Gonna take a joor at least though. So if Fusion gets angry, you're the one explaining."
Ratchet spoke up. "I don't know if I'm-"
"Yeah, you don't like charity, I know. But you'll deal." Ironhide replied. "Don't make me threaten to tell Siren we can't work together."
"You're a pit spawn." Ratchet shot back.
"You'll thank me later."
Of course, he didn't really believe him when he was lead away by Thruster. Could this mech really make him fit in?
"Wow, you look good touched up!"
Ratchet felt shy as he made his way back out to the floor a joor and a half later. Begrudgingly, he had to agree that the mech had done a good job. The mech had painted him the same colors his frame came with, at his request, but the paint now shone just as colorful as Ironhide's. All the dings had been buffed out, making it look good as new rather than hand-me-down level. Thruster had offered to add cool decals and tattoos, but Ratchet had gone for this, the simple look. Finally, he'd given him new optics. When one made their way up a caste, they got new ones. Most in the high caste got blue optics, so he had gone out of his way to make sure Ratchet's red ones were replaced with blue. That had been the strangest change. But stepping out of the building afterward? That had been the most awkward, nerve-wracking part.
He tried not to look too out of place, given he was supposed to be a high caste mech now. But he still felt as though he was gonna stick out like a sore thumb. "Well, thanks, but I'm not sure what I think of it." Ratchet replied honestly. "I mean, I might look like a high caste mech, but people will tell, won't they? I don't carry myself the same way, do I?"
Ironhide shook his head, poking the mech in the chest. "Will ya relax? Have we really not taught ya that not all high caste people act stuck up?" He asked. "Did I not just keep my word? Even paid for the dents, and the optic change." Ratchet lowered his head. "C'mon, you gotta at least make a friend. And I ain't that bad a choice."
That finally got a smile out of Ratchet. OK, maybe this Ironhide guy wasn't SO bad. Though he still wasn't sure if he was making a mistake. "Very well, but if you blow it, don't expect me to forgive you very easily." Ratchet explained. "I've had enough so-called "friends" show their true faceplates."
Ironhide smirked, smacking Ratchet on the back. "Ain't gonna happen from here on out. I can promise ya that. Because anybody who screws with ya, deals with me. I like your spirit, so I figure I want to keep ya around for a long time."
Ratchet was silent, then stared up at the sky. Realizing how late it was getting, he turned to Ironhide. "I think that I am supposed to be getting to supper in the next half an hour. Will Siren and Mixplate worry?" He questioned.
"Probably, but yer an adult now, right? Can't get too mad." Ironhide shrugged. "C'mon, I know a shortcut to their place. I'll have ya home before they worry too bad."
Ratchet reluctantly followed him on his shortcut. Though honestly, it seemed pretty long to Ratchet despite the fact that they got to the home without him being too late. "See, what did I tell ye? Three minutes late and that's it." Ironhide replied. "They're hardly going to recognize you."
Ratchet, for the third time, looked in the window. His reflection, or what was now his reflection, staring back at him. And as if to think out loud, Ratchet spoke quietly. "I barely recognize myself." Then after a moment. "So I guess I'll be seeing you tomorrow at work?"
"Count on it! Hey, maybe after work I'll take ya to meet my femme." Ironhide replied. "We can go introduce you to our side of the city, if you want?"
Ratchet knew Iacon well, so he didn't really need too much of a tour. But he also realized he didn't know much about the higher sectors of the city. And besides... Hanging out with Ironhide hadn't been too bad. "Perhaps. I don't suppose I have much to worry about with her either?"
"Chromia? Nah! She's a real sweetspark. Just don't mess with her temper, and you're good." Ironhide nodded a bit. "Good orn, Ratchet."
"Good orn, Ironhide."
As the mech started off towards his own home, Ratchet thought things over. He certainly hoped that this first friend of his was the right one to make.
