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Optimus caught Bulkhead as he skidded across the dirt, centering his weight to stay upright. Ratchet was gone in a blur, speeding off into the distant canyons, and Optimus wondered if he even looked back. He straightened up, taking two strides before transforming and tracing Ratchet’s tire marks with his own. “Trace his signal.” He uttered over the com to whoever, it didn’t matter. He didn’t bother looking back at Arcee and Bulkhead, only trained his energy forward, desperate to catch up with his fleeing medic. Ratchet’s private com was his next move. “Ratchet, please respond,” he tried, but he was met with static. The faulty energon coursing through his medic was interrupting his signal. Optimus sped on desperately, a pit of anxiety twisting in his tanks. Ratchet was after Megatron. Ratchet was after a professional gladiator who left a trail of death and destruction in each of his footprints across space. Ratchet was in danger.
“And let me guess, I’m just the medic.”
A medic that can’t take on the likes of Megatron. Optimus wondered how long Ratchet had been… feeling this way. Inadequate, unworthy, all of the things that Optimus could never describe him as. Optimus never felt that he was just the medic. He thought that Ratchet’s position was the highest honor, his medic walked with more skill than most of Team Prime combined. Sometimes, Optimus felt that Ratchet was more useful than he was.
Somehow, he had failed to convey that to his dear friend. Optimus felt a pang of guilt that Ratchet had turned to experimenting on himself to find validation.
But they were past that, they couldn’t change it. All Optimus could do was stop him before he found Megatron. Unfortunately, the synthetic energon had not only turned him into an asshole, it had given him a new sense of speed. Ratchet was gone, and Optimus was lost in his dust.
Still, he chased after his trail, desperate, guilty, and afraid.
Ratchet had indeed found Megatron. It would have been better if he hadn’t.
A servo double the size of his own had closed around his throat, and his pedes were barely scraping the floor. He gripped at Megatron’s wrist, gasping as the delicate cables along his neck creaked under the pressure. His side oozed with bright green, sickly energon that hardly seemed his own.
“So what have you gotten into, Doctor?” Megatron rumbled, almost pleasantly, as if he wasn’t crushing Ratchet’s pipes. “So much stronger… Is Optimus giving you a little something to boost your spirits?” The warlord tightened his grip as Ratchet’s servos dented his armor. The medic wheezed miserably. “Poor thing,” Megatron purred, reaching out to drag a talon through Ratchet’s wounded side. He hissed in pain and twisted away from the claw, transforming one servo into a blade and blindly swiping at his captor’s midsection.
Megatron grunted, and his hold loosened enough for Ratchet to pry himself free, clattering to the ground, landing in a puddle of his own blood. But he had no idea what to do from there, he was lightheaded and well on the road to unconsciousness. The warlord towering over him was examining his own chest, touching a slit along his armor. A delicate trickle of energon dripped down the sleek silver. Red optics were on him again in an instant.
“You won’t give up, I shall give you that.” Megatron knelt at his side, and Ratchet made to clamber back. The hiss of metal announced that Megatron’s blade had become unsheathed, and when it’s cool edge laid itself across Ratchet’s cheek, he fell still, finding enough courage to glare up at the gladiator. “Optimus will be devastated when he finds you here.” Megatron said conversationally. “I wonder how your team will cope without you. Will you be replaced?”
“Please, you’re boring me to death.” Ratchet rasped, but he was pretty damn sure that it was the bloodloss he was feeling.
“Ah, we will move on then. Do I slit your throat, or do I let you continue to die slowly?” Megatron rumbled, tapping the tip of his blade gently against Ratchet’s cheek. Ratchet did his best not to flinch, sucking in his breath and holding it.
“Megatron.”
The rumble of a familiar voice brought a flurry of conflicting emotions. Ratchet was relieved to know that he’d at least see Optimus one more time. He was also very, very guilty that he had purposefully hurt Optimus, and didn’t look forward to meeting his optics again. The warlord’s fiery optics were off of him, but the blade stayed against him. He let out his breath, turning his helm to glimpse his leader.
Optimus stood not too far away, servos clenched into fists. His shoulders were tight, and his mask hid the way he chewed on his lip nervously. He had feared that this would happen. “Release him.” He said tensely.
Megatron rose to his full height, withdrawing his blade only to place one pede on Ratchet’s chest, pinning him in the dirt and in the energon. The medic gasped, pushing at the weight that threatened to crush his chest cavity. “It’s nice of you to join us.” The gladiator flashed a dangerous smirk at his rival. “Now you can be here when his spark is extinguished.” He pressed his weight down harder, and Ratchet made a soft, breathy sound of pain.
“Don’t hurt him. Just let him go.” Optimus couldn’t hide the way he cringed at the sound.
“Perhaps I’ll think about it, if you tell me what miracle elixir you used to turn your lapdog into a war machine.” Megatron gestured down to the green puddle gathering at his pedes.
“Like hell he will,” Ratchet sputtered weakly.
“I will get the exact formula for you.” Optimus promised, and there was a flicker of hope in his optics.
Knock Out spoke up for the first time in a while from his position against the back wall. “I could, of course, just collect a sample from him, and that would be that.” He offered, and Optimus frowned.
“It’s incomplete.” He said quickly. “Let Ratchet go, and I’ll tell you what the formula is for.”
“N-No…” Ratchet shook his helm, giving up on prying Megatron’s foot off of him and letting himself lay there, feeling his world drift away. “Don’t you… Fragging dare.”
Handing Megatron limitless fuel would be a blow to the Autobots. But to lose Ratchet…
They couldn’t function without a medic, or a scientist, and Ratchet was the best of the best. And furthermore…
Optimus couldn’t stand to lose his medic. Ratchet didn’t know this, but Primus, did he love him. He would hand the synthetic energon over in an instant if it meant he could have his medic around for another day.
“I think you’ll tell me, before I release your whimpering lapdog.” Megatron glanced down at his prey, watching the light fade from his pretty optics. “I think he’d even hand over the Matrix, if he could. He just about emptied his pockets when he saw you.” He rumbled, grinning. Ratchet turned his helm away, not meeting his optics.
“Megatron, he doesn’t have time,” Optimus pleaded. “It’s…” He ignored the furious look he received from his medic. “It’s synthetic energon.” He forced out. “Now let me take him, he needs-”
“You’ve been working on synthetic energon, have you?” Megatron was speaking to Ratchet again. “What would that sad little team be without you?”
The medic tried to blink his dizziness away. “They’ll be fine. ” He snapped. “Y-You won’t… You won’t win.”
“Let’s put that to the test, shall we?” Megatron pushed down, hard, and Ratchet keened. “Let’s see how the mighty Optimus Prime will fare after I rip your throat open.” His blade glinted as it was raised above his helm.
He hadn’t begun to strike when Optimus slammed into him, knocking him back and barreling him right into Knock Out. The blade lodged itself into Optimus’ shoulder, and he wrestled to keep Megatron from nestling it deeper. Knock Out was trapped underneath them, wailing.
Ratchet let his helm fall back against the ground, exhaling. He wished Optimus hadn’t done what he did. Hopefully his leader would make it home alive, he was alone against Megatron.
The world faded to black, and he welcomed it.
Ratchet was very surprised to wake up. He didn’t think he would, but he did. He woke up hooked to various machines, healthy blue energon coursing through his veins, and a hand holding his own. Optimus held his servo in a gentle grip, his optics on a datapad. He hadn’t noticed that Ratchet’s optics had opened, and were taking him in with a relieved smile.
“You’ve worked another miracle.” He rasped quietly. Optimus jolted, releasing his servo. It felt cold without his touch. “I’m… sorry.” Ratchet averted his optics when his leader looked down at him, setting the datapad aside. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, I just wanted so badly to-”
“Help us. We know.” Optimus finished for him, giving him a knowing smile. “Don’t ever frighten me like that again.” He watched his medic, ignoring the scuffling of their teammates behind him.
Ratchet eyed the others, and when he was sure they weren’t looking, he reached back out. Optimus hesitated before taking his medic’s hand again. “I won’t.” He murmured. His cheeks flushed a bright blue as Optimus lifted his servo to his lips, kissing it tenderly before holding it against his face. “Out of all the ways… This is the one you choose?” Ratchet whispered.
“Nearly losing you was my final push.” Optimus whispered back. He released Ratchet’s servo as the Autobots behind him made more noise.
Ratchet held the servo close to his spark, sighing. “Took you long enough.” He closed his optics, and easily slipped back into a state of rest.