An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Not everything is going great for dear Ratchet. Though where can the fault lie aside from himself? This chapter features IronRatch.
Ratchet has a one-night stand, and winds up overwhelmed.
On some subconscious level, had he wanted them to leave him behind?
Questions race through his processor.
Are they going to get together? What does that mean for them? For the three of them? Will they expect him to visit less? They’ll probably stop coming by the hospital, which may be all for the best. He could focus on the work instead of worrying about the two of them. He might even learn faster from Meltdown or save lives quicker.
Ratchet’s gears grind together.
Oh who is he lying too! He’s not saving lives! He doesn’t get to go anywhere near the big cases. Maybe he never will. The work is routine. Every day is different, and yet there are ways it is consistent. The charts, the paperwork, the rounds. Time steadily clicking on, as his goals get further away from him. His chances are shrinking.
Was he talking about his friends, or his dreams?
Ratchet’s pedes carry him past the dorms. Aimlessly he wanders.
What should he have expected? For the laughs to go on forever? Of course, they couldn’t. Obviously, they wouldn’t! Eventually, Orion’s little plan would come to an end, and it’d be called then. This was just a little sooner than he had expected.
Purple lights flicker in the distance. Ratchet twists until they’re out of his sight, wandering further into the Iacon. Where did he think the three of them were going?
He lifts his helm to find Jazz stepping out of a building. Maccadam’s. The place Orion had taken them too, how many cycles ago now? Where he had begun laying out his big plans for how to change Cybertron.
So it had been more Jazz’s speed. Did Orion show it to him?
Ratchet’s frame creaks loudly as his whole body heaves. This jealousy is ridiculous. He could use a drink.
Turning on his pedes, Ratchet heads back down the way he came. This time with a goal in mind.
He heads to his usual haunt. Well, he hasn’t been here in a few kilocycles, but back before he was accepted into the medical assistant’s program, he spent many groons in the good old Tried-and-True.