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The next days passed in a rush of noise and highgrade. Even though Ratchet had known of the bomb for so long, had carried the burden from Kaon to Charr, he felt oddly distanced from the celebrations taking place around him. The enlisted mechs drank their highgrade, made toasts to Orion Pax, the new hero of Iacon, to Prowl and his team for keeping the city safe, even a few for Perceptor, who flushed and hurried away every time someone picked him out of the crowd.
Once, Ratchet would have jumped on the opportunity to join them, but now, he found every reason to avoid their boisterous festivities. Since that last night in Praxus, the idea of drinking until his processor lapsed held no appeal to him. Instead, he spent his time with Perceptor and Wheeljack. He already knew that Perceptor was planning on returning to Iacon, and Wheeljack decided that he was going to join him.
"I just want to go home," his friend had said, a tired smile on his face. Ratchet had understood—even though the physical wounds had healed, the mech still had a long way to go. They all did.
His friends were scheduled to leave with the one of the drop ships on its return to Iacon. He hadn't told them about his promise to return to Praxus. They would fight it as much as his instinct was, but he had made a promise and he intended to keep it. Instead, he told them he was planning on staying in Charr a while longer until he could safely go to Polyhex—it wasn't exactly at lie.
The reality that his friends were leaving didn't hit him until the drop ship arrived to pick them up and whisk them away. Perceptor had a small case of supplies clasped tightly in his arms and Wheeljack was pulling a case of half-formed inventions and datapads he'd amassed over the bored days in Charr's medbay. Ratchet helped them carry their things above ground to the landing pad, but as soon as his optics lighted on the ship, idling quietly and blowing dust away from the engines, he stopped. His friends were leaving.
Wheeljack's optics were bright as he pulled Perceptor's chest above ground before giving him a hand as well. "I can't believe I'm going back to Iacon," he said. "After all this, I just… never thought I would see home again."
Perceptor gave a small smile. "Me neither," he said quietly.
Ratchet couldn't stop a small smile and gave Wheeljack's shoulder a squeeze. "Better hurry up or they'll leave without you," he said.
Ultra Magnus was talking to an Autobot—a green mech with helicopter blades handing down his back. As they approached he said, "These are the two civilians. Perceptor, Wheeljack, this is Springer. He and his squad will be taking you back to Iacon." He looked at Springer and said, "Prowl wants to meet them personally when they arrive."
Springer nodded. "It's an honor to meet you two," he said. "We've heard about what you've done for Charr, and for Iacon."
Perceptor looked away and Wheeljack managed a murmured an uncertain "thank you." Ratchet stood back as he watched his friends surrender their things to the mech, who disappeared back into the ship. Wheeljack ran a hand over his blast mask before pulling Ratchet into a crushing hug.
"Are you sure you won't come with?" he asked quietly.
Ratchet returned the embrace fiercely. "I'll be back in Iacon soon enough," he promised. "I just want to make a few stops first."
Wheeljack signed and nodded. "I know. Stay safe out there, okay?"
Ratchet tightened his embrace and planted a chaste kiss against the side of the mech's mask. "I will. I promise," he said quietly. He held on for a moment longer before finally letting him go.
Perceptor's hug was softer, more timid, but no less genuine and Ratchet was grateful to have it. "Take care of yourself, Perce," he said quietly, meaning every word.
"You do the same," he said. The mech offered him a small smile before heading into the debts of the ship, Wheeljack following close behind.
Ratchet waited until the hatch closed, the engines started and lifted, waited until the ship was a small speck in the sky before finally turning away. A profound sense of loss settled inside of him, and though he tried to shake it off, tried to convince himself he would see them again soon, it was hard to think too far past Praxus. The thought of it hung at the forefront of his mind, consuming almost everything else.
Ironhide found him later that day as he finished packing the last of his paltry possessions—the only things he had left. He didn't even have enough to fill a full carry bag, but as Ironhide plopped down a heavy case on his berth with an Autobrand across the top, he wondered if that would change.
"What's this?" he asked and flipped open the case. He whistled as he looked inside at the most complete medical kit he'd ever seen, even beyond what he had seen at the University.
"Command sent us a shipment. I figured you'd want one," Ironhide said.
Ratchet looked through at the variety of patches, fluid packets, solvents, cleaners, laser scalpels and other emergency tools and nodded in approval. "They hook you up well when they can," he said.
"I thought it might come in handy," the red mech said with a grin. "Our ship's here. It's time to roll out."
Ratchet froze as he flipped up one of the shelves and found an un-loaded pistol with three full cartridges nestled into a bed of foam. He swallowed and flipped the case closed and stored it in his subspace, though it was definitely a tight fit. He looked up at the red mech and drew in a deep breath. "I'm ready."
Ironhide grinned and motioned for him to follow, leading him out of the barracks and up one of the ladders to the ground above. Two more drop ships had arrived and sat idling, as though expecting to need to take off at any moment. With Charr's notorious history of attacks on ships, Ratchet wasn't too surprised.
Both ships were alive with activity—mechs coming and going, crates being loaded and unloaded, but Ironhide headed straight for one mech. He was an imposing figure, armed to the gills and standing a head taller than even Ultra Magnus, who greeted him with grave formality. His heavy armor was scuffed and pitted with dings, though under the grime, his paint was gold and purple. Orange optics gave Ultra Magnus their full attention, and he nodded to whatever the mech said, purple head crest bobbing.
His optics flicked over to Ironhide and something that almost could have been a smile quirked the corner of his scarred face. Ironhide stood at attention as they got close and threw an expert salute.
"Well, well, well, look who managed to survive Charr," the mech said, returning the salute before offering Ironhide a hand. "It's good to see you again, Ironhide."
"It's good to see you too, sir," he said and took the hand in a hard shake.
"If you'll excuse me, Impactor, I need to get back to work," Ultra Magnus said, that same cool formality in his voice.
Impactor smirked and gave a slight inclination of his head. "Always a pleasure, Magnus," he said before turning back to Ironhide. "Now, you have some fragging explaining to do. How the hell is it I send one of my most promising recruits to Charr and a couple of civvies do you job for you?"
Ratchet lost the thread of that conversation as Ultra Magnus pulled him aside. "You don't have to do this," he said. "You're a civilian. You have no duty to join on a venture like this. Especially an asinine venture of the Wreckers."
Ratchet drew in a deep breath. "With all due respect, sir, I do," he said through a sigh. "I killed a mech. I owe it to his team to aid them, at least until a replacement can be found."
Ultra Magnus pegged him with a hard look. "I absolved you for Backdraft's death," he said. "The aid you provided here helped save Autobot lives. You've done enough."
Ratchet wanted to believe him, but his mind had already been made up. "Not yet."
Ultra Magnus looked like he wanted to shake him. "If you want to help, go through the proper channels!" he said. "Go to Iacon. Take the oath. At least then I won't have another civilian death on my conscience."
Ratchet gave a small, humorless laugh. "I'm no Autobot," he said. "I'm just trying to right a wrong."
The red and blue mech's lips were drawn into a thin line. "I could arrest you, have you taken to Iacon," he said.
Ratchet grinned at that. "But you won't," he pointed out.
It took a long moment for the mech to reply, as though battling with himself. "No," he said at last. "I won't." He ran a hand over his helm before offering him a hand. "Don't let Impactor and Ironhide make you do anything stupid. They have a habit of reckless behavior."
Ratchet gripped his hand tightly. "I won't," he promised. "You of all mechs know I'm not afraid to speak my mind."
Ultra Magnus made a noncommittal noise, obviously not amused. "Take care of yourself, Ratchet."
"You as well, sir."
"Time to go, Ratchet," Ironhide called, drawing his attention away for just a moment. When he looked back, Ultra Magnus was already gone.
The mech named Impactor looked him over as he approached the drop ship, standing in front of the open port. "So you're the medic that's caused such a stir around here," he said. Ratchet wasn't sure what to say, so he kept quiet under the scrutiny. "We like that in the Wreckers." He stepped aside and motioned to the dark hold of the ship. "Welcome aboard."