#neonwrites

The fight disoriented her. Optimus commed something about the space bridge, which pooled open. Ratchet remembered a firm hand on her back and then someone flung her into the space bridge. She slid across the floor on the other side and lifted her helm up to see the wormhole flex and exhaust itself.

And then it was gone.

“Jazz-“

Ratchet turned to speak to no one. She swore he told her ‘I’m right beside you’ when the firefight started. But, when she looked around now, she realized there were no Autobots. She lay solitary on the floor of a huge space that glowed with an ethereal shift from competing screens and controls. Dust and soot from charred earth covered her red and white frame but it didn’t cover the gleaming Autobot symbol on her chestplating.

“I’m bricked,” she murmured. Ratchet was alone on Cybertron.

Well, not entirely.

A dark Byzantium servo came down on her shoulder and she flinched. The owner of said servo ignored her action and lifted her up to methodically place a collar around her neck. Her optics flashed upwards to investigate the single yellow optic of her captor.

Shockwave.

Megatron's shoulder wasn't healing right.

Everyone on base saw the energon drips and his limited movement. Dr Mandroid's laser literally put a chip on his shoulder.

For Megatron, the blistered metal and seeping inner energon weren't his main worry. His digits creaked every time he flexed them.

His first mission with G.H.O.S.T. further exacerbated the wound. Perhaps the Prime took pity on him.

Prime never outwardly showed worry. But after the duo's pitiful performance G.H.O.S.T. threatened to decommission the Decepticon. This injury threatened the treaty between humans and Transformers.

At least that's how the Prime justified calling up an old friend.

It was too risky to meet on base so their rendezvous was a simple scouting mission. They would 'lose communications' and change directions.

Megatron knew nothing of the plan. So when he saw the red and white bot standing there he raised his arm reflexively as she turned to face him.

The bot in question spent many years surprising him with her quick reflexes and frightening aim. The reflex caused energon to ooze from the shoulder wound.

"I see working with Optimus hasn't made you any smarter." The medic's sharp tongue never failed.

"Ratchet," Megatron said in awe and disbelief, "what are you doing here?"

"Optimus said it was an emergency."

Megatron frowned at the Autobot leader, who appraised him in silence.

"You shouldn't-"

"Sit down," she interrupted.

Ratchet looked nice, for lack of a better word. Neat and tidy. Her arm display hummed to life as she patted the makeshift seat in front of her made from a human shipping container. The two red crosses on her shoulders marked her as a friendly medical unit. The Autobot insignia underneath her windshield told a different story.

As Ratchet scanned him, Megatron realized a horrible truth; Ratchet wasn't able to return to Cybertron. The millions of years of Cybertronian medical data she wanted to preserve was stuck here on Earth.

Megatron snapped his helm around to look at Optimus.

Ratchet scowled, "Megatron."

Megatron turned back. The mix of emotions he felt made him speak up in an affected whisper, "Optimus should never have brought you here."

"And you shouldn't move around so much." Ratchet spoke calmly despite the harsh words, "Obviously from the scorch marks you sustained a laser burn. It wasn't powerful enough to sever the arm, but it did sever a main energon line. You probably experience some problems in your hand?"

Ratchet gently turned Megatron's clenched fist and eased open his palm to hear the soft creaks.

Megatron swallowed the lump in his throat as she stood up straight and stretched her door wings.

"Normally, this would heal on its own with rest." Ratchet refused to look at him so she gave her withering look to the ground, "I'll spray a sealant in there. With how much you move around it wont hold. You'll have to reapply it every morning and evening.

In Megatron's recovery years, learning to mak amends remained a key part of reform. But with Ratchet standing her and no on Cybertron where he believed her to be, there was too much to apologize for.

"Ratchet I-" Megatron began again.

"If you say anything else I'll tell Optimus you're grounded," She snapped.

Megatron fell silent as she sprayed a pressurized concoction into his shoulder. The cooling feeling spread through his shoulder and the pain flowed away.

"I," Megatron began again. After seeing her dour expression, he hastily changed his mind.

"Exercise your digits, you have energon loss."

Ratchet began carefully put away her things. There was so much Megatron wanted to say but nothing came out.

"Thank you."

Ratchet nodded.

Optimus waited for her to finish before pulling her aside.

"I take it you didn't risk bringing me here just for a patch job."

"No, this will help with human Cybertronian relations." Optimus smiled reflexively to cover up his misstep. "I have something very important for you to do if you'll join me."

Ratchet felt nostalgic. Optimus now asking for what he asked for at the beginning of it all. Would she really risk everything for him again on this world?

"I'll join you Optimus, whatever you need me to do."

"I hoped you could look after some young ones."

“You too, Professor.” You reply. After ensuring all your pokeballs were stored safely and securely in your backpack, you get started on the path home with a little speed in your step as the sun was setting fast. 

To say the least, you are exhausted. However it is the good kind of exhausted. The kind that makes you say, I did a good job today as you sit back on your chair with your feet sore from all the work you’ve done. After all, you have been capturing Pokemon and recording each one’s data ever since you left the house this morning. 

You weren’t alone, of course. There were other trainers nearby and oddly Professor Willow, all doing the same thing as you. Capturing and writing down data in their journals. You would have thought that professors would prefer being in their labs rather than out in the field. Willow seems to be one that prefers navigating tall grass and acquiring data himself.

Considerate too, you thought. Kicking a pebble as you walked, you recalled how he took a fellow trainer aside when they began to show signs of a heatstroke. “You musn’t overexert yourself.” He softly chided as he handed the bottle of water to the trainer. “The Pokemon can wait. Please take care of yourself first.” In the end, that trainer left earlier than you did but Willow didn’t seem at all mad.

“I would hope you are paying attention to where you’re going!” You spin around at the sound of a familiar voice and there is the professor, pedalling on his bike. The orange glow of the sunset illuminated the wrinkles on his smiling face. “Sorry, professor. I gotta admit, I was in the clouds before you called out to me.” You apologise and he chuckles. Exercising caution is important- especially when it is getting dark, he adds and you nod.

“By the way, is your house within the area?”

“Yes. Ah- it’s just a little further from here. Down a couple of streets.”

“Oh well, I have to see an old friend nearby so if you like, I could give you a ride home?”

You were surprised by his offer but did not refuse. At first, you attempt to ride astride behind him. The bicycle wobbles as you position yourself and Willow turns slightly to check up on you.

“Hm, it might be easier to ride side saddle.” He suggests and you shift your position accordingly. “That’s it.” You can detect his smile even though you can’t see his face.

“Thanks for the ride, professor.” You say as you awkwardly gripped his shirt with a single hand. You expected him to start pedalling but he laughs- a fine, earnest laugh- and turned around.

“Ah, that way of holding will not do. You’ll fall off!” Willow took your hands and wrapped them around his waist. He patted your hand, signalling you to not let go. “There we go. It’s much safer like this.” Safer it may be, you feel oddly self-conscious about the way this may look.