Work Text:
War Dreams
It was happening again.
Ratchet was in the main room of the HQ, chugging down a can of oil as his systems pumped fast and hard.
Why again?
Why was this happening again?
He huffed as he threw out the can, chestplate racing as the images of energon and fallen comrades clouded his head.
And the screams…
Primus, the screams…
Tremors shook throughout his limbs, the visions becoming more real until a small voice snapped him out of it.
“Ratchet?”
The medic jumped in place, Bumblebee staring at him in horror from the doorway.
“Bumblebee—“ Ratchet straightened up, “What—what are you doing up?” He gruffed, “Playing one of those stupid games?”
“No I—I just couldn’t recharge I—“ Bumblebee had seen the shaking, that was obvious now, “Are you—are you okay Ratchet? You looked kinda—“
“I’m fine,” Ratchet grit as he stared down the young scout, “I’m just old and my parts don’t work as well as they used to.”
“But Ratchet—“
“Forget it. Nothing’s wrong with me. Now Goodnight—“
Before Bumblebee could say anything else, Ratchet had stormed off, the old medic back in his room as he clicked his lock shut.
He went back to his berth and laid down, feeling a horrible dread overtaken him as he shut his optics.
Please, just let this pass…
***
“Ratchet! Help me, Ratchet!”
A younger Ratchet bolted through growing flames, shoving himself in between large debris in search of his fallen comrade. Loud blasts and more screams echoed in his head as he hunted for the voice.
But no matter how long he ran, the path seemed endless, until finally, something beeped below him.
Something loud.
A bomb.
A Decepticon bomb.
No!
A loud boom blinded him.
***
Boom!
Ratchet sat up, systems flooded with errors as he forced his shaking self out of his berth.
The booms continued to echo in his head, Ratchet soon realizing the noise was coming from outside his room…
From the main room…
Loud blasts and booms echoed from down the hall, Bumblebee’s voice yelling at his sudden loss.
Ratchet grit his jaw, panic still coursing his parts.
Those damn games…
Bumblebee…
He stormed out of his room, this time in the early morning, pushing past a confused Optimus as Bumblebee played what looked like a fighting game—no—a war game.
He rushed past the couch, ignoring Bumblebee’s confused “hey!” As Ratchet ripped the plug from the wall and ended the noise right then and there.
“Hey, Ratchet, what gi—?!”
“If I hear those damn blasts again—“ Ratchet growled right in his face, “I’ll show you just what it was really like in a place like that!”
Bumblebee was frozen as Ratchet headed back down the hall, the old medic ignoring Optimus’s pleas as he headed into the med bay.
“Ratchet—! You can’t just—!”
He shut the doors and locked them, plopping down into his lab office chair with another racing chest.
He hadn’t meant to snap at Bumblebee so viciously, but—but seeing him play that game—hearing it—he just couldn’t take it,
Not now.
Not now…
He always hated when the memories came back this way…when he acted this way…
How he always begged for it to stop…
He pulled up some files and decided to do some work…
He’d…deal with how he acted…later…
***
Boom!
Ratchet sat up in his berth, just like the night before, rushing back out to the main room to chug down another can of oil.
It was one of the only things that brought him back to reality—his systems feeling less empty and crazed as he forced it down.
He clenched the can until he crumbled it more and more, venting and breathing in spurts until his throat felt less closed…
He gripped his head, shaking like before—
“Ratchet.”
Again.
Bumblebee.
Ratchet turned around, Bumblebee once again watching him in fear.
“How uh—how we doing this time?”
Ratchet almost snapped, but held it back, “I’m…still fine. Just thirsty.”
“R-right.”
Silence.
Bumblebee broke it, “I uh—I’m sorry about the game. I didn’t mean to wake you—I never really notice when it’s so loud…”
So he thought it was that…
For some reason that only made Ratchet extra angry.
Almost…jealous…Bumblebee was so naive…
Then he sighed, ashamed he even felt it.
He wouldn’t wish this pain on Bumblebee.
No on anybody.
“Forget it, kid, I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that…you don’t need to apologize…” Ratchet barely looked at him, “Just…turn it down a little…the shooting in that game…kinda bothers me…”
“Is it because—“ Bumblebee shut his mouth.
“Because what?”
“Ratchet, I’m not as dumb as you think I am,” Bumblebee snapped, “This is the second night in a row you’ve looked like you’ve seen a ghost. And what you said to me earlier—“
“Bumblebee—“
“You’d show me what it was like—did you mean what war was like?”
More silence.
Ratchet let out a breath, “I shouldn’t have said that…that was cruel of me—“
“Ratchet, are you…having problems? Are you—remembering things?”
Ratchet glared.
Bumblebee, being Bumblebee, didn’t back down, “If you’re going to yell at me, you could at least explain why. Is that why? You—-“
“Yes.”
Bumblebee stiffened, still by the doorway as he shifted uncomfortably, “Oh. I’m sorry…”
“I can handle it. It will pass. It always does.”
“Ratchet—“
“I’m sorry I snapped at ya kid,” A darker tone in his voice, “But for your own sake…forget what I said…and leave me alone.”
Bumblebee looked like he had more to say, but just like before Ratchet shoved past him, going back to his room of gloom, back pressed against the door with a pained breath.
He eyed his berth as if it were his own coffin…
This time it was going to be long…
He could feel it…
***
Two weeks had passed since Ratchet’s nightmares restarted, the old medic cranky and vicious from his lack of sleep, the rest of the team wary of him when he crossed their paths.
They knew something was wrong, but he wouldn’t say what, Bumblebee having kept what they talked about to himself.
Optimus was suspicious, and had his guesses, but again, if Ratchet didn’t tell him, he knew better than to pry…
So Ratchet and Bumblebee had a secret they shared.
And every night, for those past two weeks, when Ratchet would rush into the main room for his can of oil, he’d already find it, cool and ready for him…
He knew it was Bumblebee, but he never said a word about it, continuing with the ritual of chugging it down until Bumblebee came in minutes later.
And like clockwork, on repeat, they’d say the same few things.
“Do you want to talk about it, Ratchet?”
“No.”
“Okay…can I sit with you?”
“Fine.”
So then they’d sit together, a few chairs away, each drinking oil in silence…until one of them would leave first.
But never together.
No…
They never left together…
And Ratchet would crawl back into his room, while Bumblebee would crawl back into his.
The same routine…
Again.
And again…
And again…
And Ratchet, though he’d never admit…felt a lot better…to just simply sit with someone else…
Then he’d lay back down…and wait for whatever nightmare was to come…
Again.
***
Boom!
“Kid!”
Ratchet bolted through debris, Bumblebee lying on the streets of Detroit with energon pooling out of his side.
Lugnut had been terrorizing the city, and the Autobots came to stop him, Bumblebee pushing Ratchet away from an oncoming blast.
The others were currently fending him off, Ratchet at Bumblebee’s side.
“Why’d you do that?!” Ratchet was quick to bring out his supplies—anything to weld up the wound, “Why the hell did you do that?!”
He got to work as Bumblebee’s optics flashed in delirium, “Why…wouldn’t I?”
“You stupid—stupid little—!”
“You’d do the same for me—“
Ratchet froze at that, looking at the little scout as the scenery around them seemed to switch from a dark gloomy Cybertron to the bright lights of Detroit.
Memories…
Reality…
The War…
This battle…
All blurring together….until…
Bumblebee went limp, and panic flooded Ratchet’s chest. He rubbed the electric pads together, slamming them onto his chest…
***
Slow beeps echoed within the infirmary, Bumblebee lying on the medical berth with shut optics and wires attached to his chest.
Ratchet had done what he could to bring him back, and thankfully he did, but right now they had to wait for when he woke up…
And Ratchet, despite his skills, wasn’t sure when that would be…
Everyone else had left after checking in on him, Ratchet refusing to leave the kid’s side…an unopened can of oil next to the berth…
Waiting…for Bumblebee…
Optimus soon came on to check on them both.
“Ratchet, you ought to get some sleep. Go recharge, I can stay with him.”
“No.”
“Ratchet—“
“I can’t leave him, Prime. I just can’t…especially not after all he’s—“
He stopped, still not wanting to talk about it.
“After all he’s done, Ratchet?”
A blink from the medic, “So you knew? You knew he was staying up with me?”
“Bumblebee…” Optimus explained, “Didn’t tell me why you were upset…but I did eventually get him to tell me why he seemed so tired…about how something was bothering you—I kinda filled in the rest myself…”
A long sigh escaped Ratchet’s throat, “I didn’t mean for this to happen… he shouldn’t have done this for me—he shouldn’t have—“
“But he did. He cares about you, Ratchet. A lot.”
“I know,” Ratchet hissed, “No matter how many times I try to push that kid off he just keeps crawling back…”
“Is this why you always try to push him off? Because of what you’ve experienced?” Optimus asked, “Are you…afraid to care about us? Afraid to care…about Bumblebee?”
“I really hate how damn smart you are sometimes.”
“You can let us in, Ratchet. You know that—“
“I know…but my ways won’t change. I’ll always be on edge. Always…haunted…by things that aren’t there…not everyday…but always…”
An empathic nod from Optimus, “I understand…and I won’t press anymore. Now we’ll just wait for Bumblebee.”
“Bumblebee…” Ratchet clenched his fists, eyeing the floor, “If he doesn’t wake up, Prime…I’ll never forgive myself…”
Never.
Optimus didn’t say anything else, the two of them listening to the soft terrifying beeps of Bumblebee’s spark…
***
“Ratchet…?” Bumblebee’s voice was so quiet, “Ratchet—?”
The old medic rushed over, scanning him over in panic until he finally sighed in relief.
Everything looked stable…and his wounds were welded and fixed up…
Other than needing time to rest, and some fuel, Bumblebeee would be okay…
He’d be okay…
“Bumblebee!” He huffed out, “How dare you scare me like that…what the hell were you thinking?!”
“I—-“ Bumblebee still seemed a bit out of it, “I pushed you out of the way…didn’t I?”
“You did—like a damned fool. You nearly offlined, Bumblebee—!” Ratchet scolded him like a child, “That was the dumbest, most reckless, idiotic thing I think I’ve seen you do!” He got into it more, “What kind of crazed lunatic sacrifices himself for an old piece of scrap like me?! Because I’d do it too?! You stupid—! Reckless—loudmouthed—!”
Leaking…
Ratchet wiped his face.
Why were his optics leaking?
They were leaking.
Oh.
He was…crying…
He was crying…over Bumblebee…
No, he couldn’t be…not in front of him…
Not in front of anyone…
Ratchet didn’t cry.
But he was crying…
And the pains and relived memories of the past two weeks caught up to him then…
And he kept on crying, Bumblebee’s weak self pulling him down into a hug.
“I’m alright, Ratchet…” He said softly, “You’re alright…”
Ratchet held him close, as if he were his own sparkling, letting himself release all the horrible emotions he had tried to hide…
And Bumblebee hugged him back and let him do it, letting Ratchet hold him for as long as he needed to…
***
A few nights passed since Bumblebee’s incident and he was cleared to leave the infirmary, Ratchet not having had any of his nightmares since that day he cried in the kid’s arms.
A few weeks ago that would have embarrassed him—but now he accepted it.
Holding in the pains of the war, or any pain, was no longer the way he wanted to do things.
It would take time for him to adjust to…talking to others…to expressing the pains of his experience…but those moments with Bumblebee…the drinking oil...finally showing the pain…
He really believed that helped him.
Bumblebee, as reckless and as crazy as he could be, really helped him…
Sure, the nightmares and the memories would come back eventually.
They always did.
But for now they had passed, and Ratchet was back for oil on this new night, not as a prisoner of his War dreams…but because he wanted to be here, and not long after, Bumblebee joined him, grabbing his own can of oil like he had been the past few weeks.
“Doing okay,” Bumblebee smirked, “Docbot?”
“Other than annoyed you keep trying to kill yourself? Yeah,” He sipped his oil, “I’m doing just fine.”
And just like before, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Still on that, are you?”
“This is the last time I’ll ask, I promise.”
“You nearly die for me, and you still can’t leave me alone?”
A devious smile on the yellow bot’s face, “Nope.”
Ratchet set down his can of oil, looking at Bumblebee’s bright blue and alive optics…optics that saw battle…but hopefully would never see the war that he had…
“My stories are dark, Bumblebee. Very dark,” He said, “If you really want to listen, this is the only night I’ll talk about it.”
Bumblebee opened his can of oil, and scooted a bit closer, “Tell me anything you want…soldier.”
Ratchet’s chest ached at that, but he nodded, “This first story…is one I dream about a lot—it started like any other day…”
Bumblebee leaned in, and listened—really listened,
“And on this day,” Ratchet breathed, “Was the first time I truly understood…the pains of War…”