Disclaimer: Quick reminder that I do not own any faction of Transformers. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fan fiction, now would I?
Five: Secrets
Ratchet's arrival home so soon had everyone a little uneasy, especially Bumblebee, who had expected the doctor to be out for some time. He tried to make himself smaller on the couch beside Prime, but Ratchet wasn't stupid. He reached over the back of the couch and grabbed Bumblebee's shoulder.
"Where's that report, soldier?" he said, looking Bumblebee straight in the eye.
"I...uh... didn't do it?" answered Bumblebee, knowing full well this answer was going to get him in even more trouble than ever before.
"Ya didn't do it. I gave you a direct order, and you didn't obey it. Well, you know what this means: Prowl, for the next three weeks, he's yours."
"Wonderful," answered the ninja, who didn't sound excited but the grin on his face said otherwise. "We'll start with grass growing, then human evolution, and so on."
"NOOO!" shouted Bumblebee, terrified at the very idea of watching television for the purpose of learning. Optimus laughed and said,
"Come on, Ratchet, don't you think that's a bit harsh?" Ratchet, for the first time, gave Optimus a smack on the head and said,
"You listen to me, young 'bot. I don't care if you're the leader of this sorry bunch, or if you went to some fancy school for so-called heroes-in-training, or if you're related to the original Optimus Prime: you're still young, you're still stupid, and your leadership skills are going to the scrapheap. Let me tell you something: when someone else gives an order and you know damn well that order is necessary, you never, EVER contradict that person, or their judgment. It's disrespectful and it hurts everyone on the team. Bumblebee," he snapped, turning his attention back to the smallest Autobot, "march to your room and write that damn report or so help me I'll take you back to whichever boot camp you were sent from. I want that report done tomorrow. You'll also start with Prowl tomorrow. Sari will not be allowed in here for three weeks."
The entire room was silent, save for the movie that was playing. Ratchet looked at each Autobot in the eyes and each looked back at him timidly, each afraid he would go off on them as well.
"Bulkhead," he said to the largest Autobot who jumped a foot in the air, "turn down that racket. It's too loud."
"Y-yes, sir," answered the timid 'bot, grabbing the remote control and turning down the television's volume.
"Prowl!"
"...Yes?"
"You're sittin' too close too that stupid thing. Scoot back!"
Prowl quickly scooted away from the television, having developed a bad habit of sitting on the floor and close to the screen to ensure he saw every little thing that happened.
"Bumblebee."
"What," said Bumblebee defiantly, crossing his arms angrily and glowering at the doctor.
"Get to your room. NOW."
"Fine. Whatever," he grumbled, getting up and marching to his room in the worst mood he'd ever been in.
"Prime," the doctor said, finally ending his rant, it seemed, "you need to work on your leadership skills. Get off your aft, go to your office and think about this whole situation."
"Ratchet, I don't think you have the right to—"
"I worked with your Grandfather in the war. He was the best damn leader I ever knew, and even Megatron himself respected him. You, my boy, do not live up to your name."
Optimus' face fell; he could almost feel his spark shattering. He'd heard many negative things about him in his life, but this...this just stung so much more than all those things put together. Ratchet gave them one more annoyed look, then walked off to his lab to begin the blueprints for the puppet he was going to build.
The three Autobots watched him leave, then, when he was out of range, Prowl got off the floor and said quietly,
"Since I'll be spending the next three weeks with him, I'm going to go talk to Bumblebee. I'll help him with this report."
"Oh...right. Good...good," said Prime dully. It was clear he was hurting inside.
"Hey," said Prowl, placing a hand on Prime's shoulder, "It's okay. I think you're a wonderful leader. Ratchet's just being Ratchet. He's an old man, it's what they do."
"Yeah..." said Prime, unconvinced, "yeah. Old."
"I'll go talk to Bumblebee," repeated Prowl. He patted Prime's back and walked silently to Bumblebee's room. He knocked a few times, then waited.
"What?!" Bumblebee yelled. He didn't sound good at all.
"It's just me," Prowl said quietly. "I just want to talk, and maybe help you with that report."
"I don't need help, Prowl. I'm fine."
"You don't sound fine."
"Yeah, well, I am. Just leave me alone. And don't pull any of that ninja crap on me!"
"Like what?" Prowl asked, keeping all judgment and attitude out of his tone.
"Like sneaking in here through the ceiling or something crazy like that. I hate when you do that."
"I'm sorry you feel that way. I won't do it if it bothers you. But I really must insist you open the door. I just want to talk, that's all. We're all upset with Ratchet right now, and it's not a bad thing to talk openly about it."
"...Fuck it," Bumblebee growled, using the human expletive his team mates didn't know and couldn't yell at him for using. He opened the door and looked at his team mate angrily. Prowl looked very calm and reserved, and he said nothing. He did, however, give Bumblebee a rare, concerned little smile. Bumblebee searched his face for anything negative, then said,
"All right, come in. Just don't tell Ratchet."
"I won't," replied the ninja, who closed the door behind him quietly. They both walked across the room, and sat on the recharge berth. Prowl looked around and could see that Bumblebee's love for human culture went beyond just hanging out with Sari and watching television. He had posters, action figures, movies and cartoon DVDs all over the place, as well as clothing that would never fit him. There were even fashion and women's health magazines on the floor that would never benefit the little 'bot.
"You seem to have made your room very...human-like," he said in disbelief. Bumblebee answered,
"Well, yeah. I didn't really have any of my own stuff except a poster and a music disc of my favorite music group back home, but other than that, nothing. But it's cool, because I really like human stuff."
"Indeed. Let's work on that report, shall we? What did he want it to be about?"
"Uh...I think...oh, right. My behavior. Apparently he wants me to think of 'solutions' for it. Whatever the frag that means."
"There's no need to swear."
"Haven't you ever been angry even a day in your life?"
"Of course. I just find different ways to deal with it, as you already know. Meditation, stillness...all the 'hippie' solutions, as the humans would say. Now, come on. How would you begin this?"
"I don't know. How would you?"
"Well," said Prowl, "I guess I would start with analyzing my own behavior. So, tell me about yours."
"I'm me," Bumblebee said, crossing his arms. "Simple as that. I act the way I feel, and I feel happy most of the time. Does he want me to be sad and act like it all day? Just mope around all day?"
"I doubt he wants you to be sad all the time. I think it's just that, because of his age, he tends to get aggravated easily. You find my behavior annoying at times, don't you?"
"Well...yeah."
"Okay, good. So let's go from there." Bumblebee nodded and began to write his thoughts down.
Ratchet was in his less-than-perfect med bay, trying to figure out how to make this animatronic puppet idea to work, and as he did so, he also thought about his own behavior that evening.
'What got into me?' he wondered as he drew up plans for the puppet's shell, 'Why did I yell at them? I mean, they're all just younglings, and they don't have any other older 'bot to look to for help. They're all going to hate me now. You stupid old man.'
He threw down his writing utensil and left his med bay in search of Optimus, who deserved an apology. He passed Bulkhead on the way and said,
"Hey, big guy. I'm sorry about my outburst before. I don't know what got into me."
"Oh...right. Sure thing, doc. I, uh...thanks." Bulkhead didn't seem to believe him, and Ratchet didn't blame him at all.
"Well, sorry again, kid." And he left, resuming his search for Prime. He passed by Bumblebee's room, and decided to apologize to him later. He heard another voice in the room and recognized it as Prowl's.
'He must be helpin' the kid with that report. Might as well leave 'em alone,' he thought as he continued in his search for Prime. He reached his leader's door and knocked, but did not receive an answer. He tried again, but still no answer. Either Prime was in recharge, too upset to answer, or killing himself. And Ratchet was pretty sure the upset leader was ignoring him for the time being.
'No matter,' he thought. 'This is only natural. I just wish I hadn't been so hard on him.'
"Optimus," he called, trying one last time, "It's Ratchet. I just want to apologize." He heard some shuffling, then the door opened. Prime looked very upset, and a little scared, but he let the medic in. Ratchet took a seat in front of Prime's desk, surprised by the very sudden change in the commander's workplace. He had seen the place many times before, and had commented to Prime about how a good leader always kept his space clean and easily accessible. Now, instead of the usual mess of stacked educational chips, videos about the war and data pads full of notes, there was...almost nothing.
The chips had been filed away neatly, the data pads had been placed somewhere on a shelf, the videos had their own little place to stay. All that was left out in the open was Prime's computer, one lonely data pad, writing utensils and a self-help data chip on good leadership.
Ratchet was shocked at how seriously Prime had taken his words. He looked into the younger 'bot's eyes and said,
"I'm sorry about the way I acted, Prime. I really don't know what came over me, I had no reason to talk to you like that. Prime?"
Optimus was quiet for a moment, considering his words, then said,
"I needed it, Ratchet. I hated every nano-click of it, and I didn't want to hear it, but I needed it. I'm...it helped me see how much a worthless loser I am, and I have to shape up if I want to be like my Grandfather."
"Don't call yourself 'worthless'," Ratchet said gruffly. Prime winced.
"Optimus, don't call yourself worthless. Say it. Say 'I am not worthless'."
"No," answered Optimus. "No, I can't say it until it's true. I'm sorry, Ratchet."
"Don't apologize, Optimus. It's normal to feel useless. I used to be like that, back in the war. Eventually you learn that it's all in your head and you get over it."
"Hmm."
"I didn't want to make you feel like a 'worthless loser', because you aren't one. I shouldn't have said what I did, and you need to hear that."
"It's okay, Doc. It's all right."
"Are you gonna be okay, Prime?"
"I'm fine. Really. I just need some time to think and read."
"Well...all right, Prime. Just...know that I really am sorry about this whole thing." Optimus nodded and said,
"It's okay." Ratchet got out of his seat and opened his mouth to say one last thing, then decided against it. It would be redundant to tell Prime he wasn't worthless if he wasn't going to believe it. The medic gave Optimus one last small smile, then left the room, closing the door carefully and quietly behind him.
Once alone, Prime placed the self-help data chip into his computer's drive and began to read all the information about being a better leader. It broke his spark to hear he was bad at what he did, and he refused to continue being an incompetent leader.
Ratchet walked back toward his med bay, unsure of what he would do when he got there. He was too angry at himself to work on the blueprints, but he knew he had to get to work. At least, that was what Megatron's programming was telling him he had to do. Ratchet walked past Bumblebee's room again and could still hear Prowl helping him write the report. While the report was just a test in Bumblebee's ability to follow orders and held no real value, it was, despite it's uselessness, a good way to teach the younger 'bots that they were going to face consequences for 'bad' behavior.
The doctor decided not to intrude on them, knowing full well that Bumblebee's anger would only rise again, making it impossible for him to finish the report. He didn't even expect the report to be long, and he wasn't going to make it into a bigger deal than it already was.
Unbeknownst to him, or the other Autobots, Megatron watched, fascinated by the doctor's outburst at his team, especially Optimus. He watched, also trying to understand why Ratchet had lashed out at them. It didn't seem unlike him to do so, but it was also odd that he had targeted Prime in his anger with Bumblebee. Megatron began to think: he had not yet really decided what he would do with the puppet, expect that he wasn't going to release it to the public.
Megatron was angry. He was angry that he had no body, angry at StarScream for being the reason for his current situation sans body, and angry that his enemies at the moment were these pathetic Autobots who couldn't get along. He wanted someone to punish, to hurt in order to feel better. And as he thought, he knew exactly who he was going to take his anger out on.
Oh, geez...It's going to get real ugly soon, kiddies. Hope everyone is doing well and are safe!