Off to the Side: Ratchet

Author's Notes: Apologies for the (unintendedly) long hiatus this fic took. I required a bit of a break from it, but I'm rather glad I did. I feel fresh coming back to Star Crossed again after these few months, and I had some ideas occur to me that might not have come to me, had I written these chapters sooner. At this moment, I cannot promise a quick update on the next chapter, but I am tying up the following storyline chapter, and I'm thinking I might go ahead and tackle the next actual chapter (maybe, see how my muse feels about abandoning the storyline at this point).

Truthfully, I wasn't expecting to ever write this. I didn't think Ratchet had anything to add, and it never occurred to me to consider whether he did have something to say. Then his bunny bit me while I was working on the current storyline chapter. It's short but consider this a tease for what's to come.

Of note is that the italics are reserved for the narrative directed at Prime, and the plain text is reserved for an introspective monologue directed at Prowl. Consider it an experiment.

Thanks to Lunenightingale for spontaneous beta-ing! Appreciate it!

Some of the worse things I've seen in my line of work are patients that deteriorate before my eyes and not being able to pinpoint a cause. That it's a comrade-in-arms, a commander, a friend. And they know what's going on with themselves, but refuse to tell me and still expect me to treat their symptoms…

"Ratchet, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

When it first happened, I was almost willing to believe you. Believe that it was the stress from preparing for the arrival of Ultra Magnus. Until I had a look at your system logs. This problem had started some time before that, and only just now culminated into a full systems crash. You're damned lucky it happened where someone could see it and do something about it. You're damned lucky that you weren't in anybody's sights or locked in physical combat. Oh, that would have been just prime, you know, giving the Decepticons such a valuable hostage as yourself. Yeah, I can just see Optimus getting all giddy over it now.

A datapad clattered on the desk. It spun and rattled, coming to a halt before the large commander.

I find it strange that whatever is bothering you didn't start affecting you until recently. What I think is affecting you at least. In some ways I can understand why you must be unable to approach me about it; you and your damned sense of pride, clogging up those fragging logic circuits of yours. How can you ask anyone to handle a problem that you haven't been able to solve on your own? Least of all is that I don't know what hold he has over you that's preventing you from speaking out. There's nothing in your medical record that would hint at any deep dark secrets in your history. And a medical record can tell a lot about a person's deep dark secrets.

A red finger smacked down on the durable plastic screen of the datapad, making sure that the wielder of the finger had all of the other mech's attention. "I want Prowl reassigned."

All I have to do is look at the logs I keep in his medical records and I can see that he is equally stressed, and has been for a while now. Though not nearly as long as you have been, but I don't believe the two are coincidences. I've noticed, from a times I've managed to swipe a copy of his logs, that you two hadn't registered an overload within close proximity of each other until just a few metacycles ago. Oddly suspicious for two mechs who have been sneaking off to overload the circuits out of each other.

A blue hand pulled the datapad out from under the angry red finger to look over the information it presented. "I'm not sure if that's possible, Ratchet. Is there something malfunctioning you can't fix here?"

I don't know who it is that's sparking up your circuits like that, but I'd say that it's not him, and he is using the one that is against you. It's affecting everything you do. You can barely formulate workable plans without having to have us poke sizeable holes in them for you. It's affecting the state of your systems, and I can always tell when he's near, because you react and you probably don't even realize that you're reacting. But I can tell, and I see it, and I see you flinch away from his touch.

And you're supposed to be lovers?

"The problem isn't a malfunction I can fix when the cause is still making the problem worse. He needs to get off this base and away from-" the angry voice broke off, hissing through white dental plates. "Why the frag haven't you noticed it before? I know you've seen it! Why the slag are you ignoring this problem, Prime? Are you waiting for him to completely break under the stress until I can't fix him anymore? Until he's beyond help and beyond repair? Is that what you're doing to one of my patients?"

Have you expected me to simply stand by while he wears you down past the point of recovery? He has hurt you! You can't tell me otherwise! Not when you refuse to meet his gaze when you think no one is looking. Why haven't you told anyone? Who else is involved in this? Who else have you tangled into this mess of yours? Who else is hurting and not saying anything to anyone? How can you expect me to help you when you won't tell me what's wrong!

Prime's optics darkened, and the medic could see the pain etched upon his face. "I am waiting for him to talk."

But you'll never talk will you? If you could then, logically, you would have already. The only solution I can see as a doctor is to remove you from the cause. I'll be damned if I don't do my slagging best to help you out. Watching you relax when he's gone, and seeing how your systems return to normal; you expect me to not do anything to help?

A fist slammed onto the desk and the boxy frame leaned dangerously over it. "Prime, I'm not going to stand by while you let my patient waste away when I'm telling you the solution right now!" The medic stuttered to a stop, avoiding the commander's questioning gaze. "I can't tell you what's wrong, since I have no proof, except what those reports show. Get him out of here, or you're going to lose him."

You'll probably hate me for interfering like this, but I don't give a slag. It's taken you most of the metacycle that he's been gone, but you're better. I can see it, even if I can't prove the cause of it. I'm taking action, since you don't seem capable.

The blue hand slowly dragged the datapad closer, optics whirring as they focused on the words. A long moment of silence ensued until the Autobot commander leaned back. "I'll consider the options, Ratchet."

It's my duty as your doctor, your friend, to see that you don't damage yourself. To look after you when you're being an idiot. It's just one of the many services I provide, free of charge.

"I'd appreciate that, Prime."