Recovery
When I next realized I was awake, Ratchet was looking at my helm. He noticed my optics were online, leaned back and grabbed a datapad. He started to ask me questions and I answered dutifully. Finally he came to a question that made me stiffen. "Do you already have a mate?" He asked, and my optics must have spoken for me, because he shrugged and said "It's just standard procedure… Stop looking at me like that!" and a heavy object slammed into the back of my helm, and fell to the floor. I scrunched my face plates in pain and fell back venting heavily. Holy Primus, my helm feels like it's melting!" I screamed. Suddenly worry crossed over my bond, a joy I had forgotten about. 'Shadow! Are you ok now?'
A weight I didn't know I was carrying lifted from my shoulder struts. 'Yes, Shade I'm fine now.' Ratchet sat in his chair, (eyebrow) raised, and said "I'm assuming by your more relaxed state, that you talked to your mate." I nodded and slouched on my bench. A thought popped in my head, a couple basic questions to help with my bearing. "Hey Ratchet, I have a couple questions. Just to help me get used to my new surroundings. What planet are we on? What day is it? How long have I been out? And what do I have to do to be "free" from the med-bay?" At first I wasn't sure he was going to answer, but then he said distractedly "We're on earth, It's the Humans 'Saturday', you've been out for a Human week, as you said you would, and you have to pass some physical and mental stress tests." I nod to Ratchet's back, silently accepting the challenge of getting back into shape.
"This is gonna be fun Ratchet." Ratchet turned to me, looked me up and down, harrumphed, and went back to scanning a pregnant femme in for a check up.
"This will be fun indeed." I whispered vehemently to myself.