Megatron cooled off by the time Ratchet had at last dragged himself through the front door. Megatron sat on the couch, combing through more recent news. The medic was surprised to see him, but quickly covered it up. Megatron couldn't help but notice that the Autobot was wobbling.

"I could rest more," Ratchet admitted from the kitchen

Megatron raised an optic ridge and met Ratchet's pure blue optics staring at him over the counter. He set down the datapad.

"I should get some rest tonight."

Megatron didn't like that should and he narrowed his optics. Ratchet looked nervous as he said, "I brought home some energon and a few things for a patient."

The flier stood up, stretching out and catching Ratchet's wobbling flinch out of the corner of his optics. The wobble pushed him away from his support and the medic crashed to the floor.

Megatron vented, he had a few things he wanted to say, but knew he shouldn't. Instead he slowly walked to the counter. "Ratchet."

His systems were starting to heat up which explained the need for pre-cooled energon. How many times had he run himself to the point of exhaustion, "Uh huh?"

He was panting for cool air. Megatron looked down on him with bemused red optics, "Enjoying yourself down there?"

Ratchet flicked his optics to him, "Immensely."

Megatron leaned against the counter, making a noise of agreement and nodding.

"Can I have some help up?"

Megatron was surprised at the question and turned to look at Ratchet, "Really?"

"Of course really. Unless you get some sick thrills from me sitting on my aft."

Megatron rounded the peninsula, "You usually engage your surgical tools when I get close."

Ratchet was venting loudly from his exhausted systems, "With good reason."

At least he wasn't afraid to admit it. Megatron hadn't exactly been kind during the war but he'd been respectful.

Or so he thought.

Ratchet flinched as claws closed around his forearms and Megatron heaved him up. As soon as the medic steadied, Megatron made a show of releasing him, as if he abhorred the touch.

It was a mistake, and Ratchet toppled forward as soon as he took a step.

Megatron fought the impulse to grab his helm and drag him to the berth himself.

"Maybe I should get some energon first," Ratchet told him from the floor.

Megatron rolled his optics and stepped over the mess of a machine on the floor and pulled a cube from his refrigerated storage to hand off to the medic. He leaned against the counter and vented.

"I'm sorry," Ratchet told the floor, but Megatron could hear.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"I'm usually alone when this happens," Ratchet admitted, "I'm not used to having a long-time patient. They usually just stay a day or so."

"So, what was your plan, Autobot," Megatron extended a claw, steering the conversation down a typically selfish path, "When you found me?"

"I didn't find you," Ratchet took a sip, "I didn't even recognize you until I opened your spark chamber. I panicked and knew you had to get into my apartment and fixed."

Ratchet trailed off leaning his helm against the wall.

"How kind of you to think me unsuited for death."

"I thought about it," Ratchet told him softly, "I hesitated for just one moment. But given the state you were in I knew that if Optimus were there, he'd want me to stabilize you."

It wasn't all too selfless, then, knowing this particular fool. Autobots were always bound by some foolish invisible honor.

"I don't know."

Megatron knew the medic was babbling at this point, "Don't recharge here."

He stepped over the medic and turned to face him. Ratchet's optics were doe-like as he looked up at the warbuild.

"I don't know."

Megatron didn't want to know what Ratchet didn't know, but he didn't like how laser focused he was in his hazy state.

He reached for the energon cube and Ratchet pulled away, "No, I'll finish it."

"Hurry up."

"Don't rush me, Megatron," there was something to be admired about Ratchet's ability to be difficult in the face of a murderer.

Megatron threw up his servos and leaned against the wall, watching the outside world rush by behind the reflection of light in the window.

Cybertron was coming into itself. Megatron felt a tinge of longing, to be out there among the crowded streets and the reflection of energon pools on the silicon siding.

There was a clunk that drew his attention back to Ratchet. The medic finished his energon as promised and let the empty cube fall to the side as he attempted to stand.

Megatron lurched forward to help but Ratchet clucked at him, "I can do it myself."

"Am I to suffer through your stumblings?"

"I suffered through your war," Ratchet gave him a dead-optic stare.

Megatron rolled his optics and gave a cross noise. Ratchet made his way to the closet door and opened it. The former gladiator dug a claw into the medic's shoulder and dragged him back. With a swift swipe, he keyed the door closed. He expected to see a faceplate full of fear but Ratchet seemed rather unperturbed by the digging claws. With no other options, he dragged the medic behind him to the correct door.

"I won't be able to sleep with you in here."

Megatron bared his teeth again, "Nothing to worry about. I will be in the other room."

"That's not what I mean."

Megatron caught the meaning, "I'll lock the door."

Ratchet shook his helm, "Nope."

Megatron appreciated the honesty but he was starting to get concerned. Ratchet seemed more drunk than exhausted. He grasped the medic's chin, lifting with the edge of his thumb and forefinger.

There was a massive difference between their size. Ratchet was the size of his second in command, just a little heftier. He could almost be lifted in one servo.

His optics weren't unfocused in that tell-tale sign of drunkenness.

"I tried to kill it you know," the medic returned to his rambling.

Megatron vented and lolled his helm back, "What did you kill?"

"I tried to kill it. For years I tried to get rid of that tiny bit of optimism that managed to survive in me, through the war," Ratchet rested his helm on Megatron's grip. "But after all this, it's the only part of me that's managed to survive."

Megatron pulled his servo away and watched as Ratchet wobbled to the berth. He flopped down and then patted beside him.

The warbuild vented; it wasn't something he wanted to do but he gingerly sat at the edge of the berth.

"You're supposed to talk next," Ratchet stated once he sat.

"What am I to say," Megatron growled out, "I am indebted to you."

"Yeah, I bet you hate that," Ratchet leaned forward and Megatron was so worried he'd topple off the berth he slammed a claw into his helm and pushed back.

Once the medic whumped to the berth, Megatron did his best to keep his temper but couldn't help but growl out, "You're starting to irk me."

"Starting," Ratchet made a noise, "Millions of years and I'm only just starting."

"Why don't you find somewhere else to recharge then?"

"Because I'll be worried all night about you."

Megatron furrowed his ridges and finally looked over his spiked shoulderplating at the medic.

"I saw the wounds, Megatron," Ratchet locked optics, "I'm a medical unit. You think I didn't see that sort of thing before the war? Gladiators purposefully throwing fights and getting into places they shouldn't. Orion told me all about it and it kept me up then as it does now. I'd throw parties as a cover to sneak into Kaon."

"I know, that's how we met."

Ratchet looked up at the ceiling, "I still don't like you."

Megatron rolled his optics, "That feeling isn't without company."

There was a moment of silence that Megatron dared to hope the medic succumbed to his recharge cycle.

"Will you tell me why you were so close to Cybertron?"

Megatron turned away, "No."

"Rude," Ratchet shifted in the berth, making it creak.

Megatron vented and leaned back, finding a place in the berth beside the medic. He fit awkwardly in the berth but surprisingly enough Ratchet gave no protest. Rather, the medic turned on his side to make room for the hulking mass.

"I need to know where your behaviors come from if you're going to heal," Ratchet told him.

"I don't want to heal," Megatron pointed out.

"Why not?"

Megatron turned his helm to the delirious medic, "There is no reason to heal."

With Megatron's pedes dangling over the edge, they were optic to optic on the berth. It brought back a sense of déjà vu and comfort he wasn't too sure he wanted. "How did Optimus ever get you to rest?"

Ratchet laughed, a low tone that came from some unlocked place under his chest plating, "Lots of nice ways. I always knew he wanted me to recharge when he'd touch my helm."

Megatron convinced himself if there was any way to make this troublesome rustbucket to berth, he'd do it. So, he extended his servo with digits outstretched, knowing Ratchet would pull away.

Instead, the medic rested his chevron in his palm, venting out a soft sigh and closing his optics. When Megatron thumbed the edge of his audial fin the medic's optics fluttered back online.

"This is frightening, but nice."

Megatron just made a noncommittal noise.

"You're allowed to miss Optimus," Ratchet stated, "It's allowed. I'm not going to get mad at you for saying that. I miss him too. And I saved you because of that."

"I know," Megatron patted his helm and said nothing further.

Since it was the only thing that seemed to calm the medic he continued to touch, turning the sharp ends of his claws away to knuckle the medic's chevron. Trailing them occasionally to his audial fins to rub between his digits, making sure paint didn't flake away.

This was Optimus' medic. The medic he took so much time and effort protecting. Never did he imagine the old war hardy bot falling into recharge with his gentle touches. He imagined Optimus flying away with him in his servos into the sunset after Megatron exiled himself from Cybertron. But Optimus sacrificed himself to save Megatron and their planet.

It was stupid to think Ratchet could forgive him. Once he was sure that the medic wouldn't wake, Megatron left him to his berth to return to the datapad and the couch.