A/n: Recognize it? Hastak property.
How we met the first time around 3: Rose
After finishing with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, Ratchet decided a little break was in order.
"Going out, cover for me, would ya?" he asked Wheeljack. He nodded in consent; remembering that their superiors at the Academy weren't too keen on their officers playing hooky. Slowly, but surely, the old van made his way through the building undetected by anyone of importance or squealing tendencies.
Present Cybertron to Ratchet was the very definition of a miracle. He privately enjoyed the sight of others walking the roads and generally going about their day. He chuckled quietly as a youngling clung to its femme parental unit, none too pleased at being denied an energon goodie.
Not too long ago, those roads would've been deserted and the only cybertronians there would be the corpses of soldiers and innocents from both factions. Ratchet shuddered at the memory of the piles of bodies that made the landscape, how he hoped to find a living spark hidden in them.
Get over it, you old piece of junk. The war's over and the Decepticons are either gone or somewhere out in the universe…he thought somberly as he made his way through the metropolis.
He looked up and found himself at a familiar abode. It was a little piece of quaint and tranquility amidst the rush of city life. He knocked on the door and waited.
"Hello?" a voice inquired rather insecurely.
Ratchet smiled and replied, "It's just me Arcee."
Slowly, the door opened revealing its occupant hiding behind it. Arcee was still as beautiful as the medic had met her. Her soft body curves bent in a timid stance behind the door, her red and pink colored armor just a smidge faded from age and wear, her big blue optics shining with life.
"R-Ratchet, was it?"
"You remembered, that's great!" he exclaimed warmly. He opened his arms and let her hug him tightly.
"I missed you, Ratchet," she giggled as she held him. "Please come inside!" she added, pulling on the older mech's arm. He smiled at her change of demeanor, it meant she did recognize him and was finally comfortable around him.
"How's life been treating you, dear friend?" he asked as she handed him a flask of energon to drink. She sat down with one of her own by a table and offered him to do the same.
"Same old, same old. Making due with what I've got!" she cheerily answered, starting the typical reacquainting conversation. They talked about everything they could think of; jobs, life, love or in Ratchet's case, as Arcee humorously said, lack of.
"Look missy, these joints and bolts aren't as strong as they used to be! I can't take a lover due to extreme medical reasons!" he huffed.
"Yeah, right. And I'm a newly sparked femme who doesn't know left from right," she replied. That comment reminded Ratchet how Arcee had come to be; she really was just like a sparkling, starting from the ground up from a war accident involving him and his lost EMP generator.
"Don't give me that," she said comfortingly, "It doesn't matter anymore, Ratchet."
"I still feel like there's something I could've done."
"Ratch, I don't mind it anymore. I might not be the same person I was before, but hey, I'm alive aren't I? And it's all thanks to you. For that, you have my undying gratitude and I love you for it. So don't dwell on it, my friend," she said, touching his faceplate and pecking a kiss on his chevron.
"I love you too," he replied, their love a platonic, friendly love. Noticing the time, he excused himself politely.
"Take care, Arcee," he said, bidding his farewell.
"You too, you cantankerous 'bot," she grinned.
At least now, the femme thought, he could go on with his life without too much grouchiness or so she hoped.
