Local Ratchet 'verse. A volcano. Flash in the hole.

[random_xtras]

Ironhide: *grunts as she moves the last big rock. That's all of it now except for a bunch of fist size lumps of dirt. Dusts some of these away as she scans her friend's battered frame, then drops to one knee and raps her knuckles against his forehead* Ratchet? Respond.

Ratchet: *After a few moments he starts to stir, the light of his optics dim.* Ghk... *Finding himself unable to move, he grimaces as his systems bombard him with damage warnings.*

Ironhide: *face drops into a scowl when he doesn't immediately sit up and grouch at her. Hand moves to his shoulder* Report.

Ratchet: *With her hand on his shoulder, she can feel his next attempt to sit up, even though he only moves slightly. Finally, voice thick with pain* C... an't move.

Ironhide: *soft growl* Don't try. Just hold still and let me look at you.

Ratchet: Not like I have much choice, do I?

Ironhide: *growls again, though her hand on his shoulder starts that soft soothing rubbing that she'd done the first day he met her. Other hand wipes away more clods as she scans him as best she can with her non-medical scanners*

Ratchet: *Lays still while she's doing this, trying to block out some of the pain singing through his systems. It's obvious he's taken quite a bit of damage from the fall, cracked and broken armor in places hinting at worse injuries beneath.*

Ironhide: Can you feel any serious leaks? *hand still rubbing his shoulder gently as she reaches for a spot on his neck that he can probably remember teaching the Ironhide he knew about. Pokes the spot to trigger pain override*

Ratchet: Somethin's pinching at the fuel lines near the spinal strut. It's leaking, but so far it's not a bad leak. *He remembers teaching Ironhide about that trick, and is grateful that this one seems to know about it as well.*

Ironhide: Can I do anything about it? *presses another spot to give him the tiny bit of head rush caused by bringing the two wires together*

Ratchet: *Shutters his optics briefly at this, feeling the pain receding* ...Probably not. I should be fine so long as I'm not moving around much.

Ironhide: My slagging comlink's not working. *looks up at the roof of the little pocket they're in and scowls* The others know our general location. *frowns down at him again, her good optic bright with concern*

Ratchet: We'll just have to sit tight until someone can get down here then... *He pauses, looking at her with a little frown of his own.* And what sort of damage did you sustain?

Ironhide: *mouth twitches in a rare grin* I'm drunk off my slagging aft. How much damage do you think I took?

Ratchet: *Huffs at that, eyeing the femme.* Just... take it easy, okay?

Ironhide: *frown* Fussglitch.

Ratchet: Well, someone needs to worry about you.

Ironhide: You're not interested, remember? *snorts* And too boltless to tell me sooner. Or were you having fun watching me make an aft of myself?

Ratchet: *Frowns at this, optics dimming a bit more.* I doubt it was anything like that.

Ironhide: *frowns again herself* ...Don't tell me you've got processor damage.

Ratchet: No, my processor is just fine.

Ironhide: *expression says she's not convinced* Do you remember that thing on Gallus eight that wouldn't die no matter how many times we shot it?

Ratchet: No, I can't say I do. But... that's not processor damage talking. *He lets out a sigh, trying to think of how to explain.* It's... a pretty hard to believe story.

Ironhide: *frowns more deeply* Giant featherless chicken..?

Ratchet: *Blinks at this, frowning.* That thing? That... was on Gallo three.

Ironhide: No it wasn't...

Ratchet: Yes it was. With those inane trees that kept shedding spores all over everything. Stuck to our finish for a week after we left no matter how many times we washed.

Ironhide: *scratches at the memory* I still think it was Gallus eight. *just like the Ironhide he knew first always thought so*

Ratchet: *Sounds amused, despite himself.* You always say that, don't you?

Ironhide: Yes. Because I'm right.

Ratchet: Yeah. Says you.

Ironhide: Yeah. Says me. *hmmph!*

Ratchet: Well. That doesn't make you right.

Ironhide: *growls at him* I'm right about you screaming like a little girl when that thing on Flivvus twelve got you by the face, too.

Ratchet: *Growls right back* Oh yeah, you remember that.

Ironhide: *ebil smirk*

Ratchet: *Glowers*

Ironhide: *smirk dies and she looks away from him* You should have just told me.

Ratchet: *Huffs quietly at this.* Ironhide...

Ironhide: *alto voice gruff* Shut up and lay still.

Ratchet: No. We need to talk, and I need to explain something to you.

Ironhide: *moody frown out of the corner of her optics*

Ratchet: You probably won't believe me, but I'm going to try anyways. *He sighs softly, trying to figure out how to explain things.* You remember when I had that processor lock when you came back?

Ironhide: *grunts*

Ratchet: I'd only showed up here two days before that. It's... kind of difficult to explain, but I'm not your Ratchet, the one originally from this reality.

Ironhide: *frowning at him again*

Ratchet: As far as I can figure, your Ratchet and I were... well, switched. I don't know why, and I don't know how, though...

Ironhide: *frown deepens to scowl, and then she blinks and reaches into a cargo compartment to pull out a small device, which she uses to scan him* *reads the screen and blinks* Well son of a glitch.

Ratchet: *Grins tiredly.* Seems some things never change. You have a horrible mouth no matter what reality.

Ironhide: *snorts and puts the thing away, watching him with a thoughtful frown* Whatever.

Ratchet: *Huffs a sigh through his vents, gazing up at the rubble blocking their escape.*

Ironhide: *silent but for the soft skreek of her fingers against his shoulder* *then she stirs* What's it like?

Ratchet: It's... different. We've managed to be accepted by the human governments as ambassadors of our kind... the Decepticons have been for the most part completely chased from this sector.

Ironhide: ...How the frag'd you pull that off?

Ratchet: Well, with both Megatron and the Fallen offlined, the remaining Decepticons were easy to chase off.

Ironhide: Who's the Fallen? *scowwwl*

Ratchet: He used to be a Prime... he was calling the shots on what Megatron was up to. Wanted to convert the sun into energy.

Ironhide: 0_0 *black scowl now* What year?

Ratchet: 2009 by human calander.

Ironhide: *goes very still* Frag slagging pit.

Ratchet: ...What is it?

Ironhide: This is 2009.

Ratchet: ...Slag.

Ironhide: *growls and tries her nonfunctional comm again*

Ratchet: ...We can't do anything about it until they dig us out.

Ironhide: I know. *moves restlessly, then looks back down at him*

Ratchet: *Looks over to watch as she moves about, a thoughtful frown on his face as he tries to visually inspect her for damage.*

Ironhide: *back turned to him as she examines the wall of dirt and rock* Stop staring at my aft.

Ratchet: I'm not staring at your aft! I'm just trying to see if you're damaged!

Ironhide: *sighs and slouches over to sit by him, then bonks the back of her head very lightly against the wall. Ratchet won't be able to see her face from that angle, but her expression is despondent* *dully* I'm fine.

Ratchet: *Hears that tone, his expression softening.* You don't sound fine...

Ironhide: Drop it. *no fire in her voice*

Ratchet: 'Hide...

Ironhide: *turns her head and looks away from him, her engine rumble roughening slightly in a way that means grieving and stress*

Ratchet: ...Talk to me?

Ironhide: No.

Ratchet: ...I just want to help.

Ironhide: Just shut up and think about your girlfriend and conserve your slagging energy.

Ratchet: I don't have one.

Ironhide: So think of your stupid magazines.

Ratchet: *Grumbles at this, unable to help but feel stung.*

Ironhide: *moves slightly so that she can see his face and he can see hers* What's your slaggin' problem?

Ratchet: Well excuse me if I'm finding the only friend I'm ever used to really having seems to want nothing to do with me.

Ironhide: I'm not your friend. I was the other Ratchet's friend. *looks away* The boltless coward.

Ratchet: Hmph. *That statement just cuts him deeper than he'd expect it to. No matter what happened before this, he could always count on Ironhide's friendship... but here, things were a lot different.*

Ironhide: *small sound as she draws her knees up* He could've just told me. Been living a lie. *another small sound*

Ratchet: Maybe he just didn't know how to break it to you.

Ironhide: *voice slightly staticked* He told me slaggin' everything else. Including his first kiss.

Ratchet: But that... it's not you and him specifically. If he's at all like me in that respect, talking about things like that is hard for him in that sort of situation.

Ironhide: But he let me kiss him. Slept on my berth...

Ratchet: ...He did? *Frowns at that, not sure what to say*

Ironhide: People thought we were already word bonded. *makes that small, sad sound again*

Ratchet: ...I'm sorry.

Ironhide: ...Must be flawed.

Ratchet: What?

Ironhide: *to her knees* Everyone else is paired up. Everyone but me. I must be sludge.

Ratchet: ...That's a load of slag. You aren't flawed, Ironhide.

Ironhide: *makes that small sound again, and this time her shoulders jerk with it*

Ratchet: *With some focus, he manages to prop himself onto one arm, reaching over to rest a hand on her arm.* You're a good femme. Any mech'd be lucky to catch your interest.

Ironhide: *growls and pushes him back down with one hand, not lifting her head to do so*

Ratchet: *Lets out a faint hiss at the fresh pain the movement is bringing, optics shuttering against the sensation.*

Ironhide: If I'm so #$@##@ great why am I still alone?

Ratchet: You... just haven't found... the right mech. *He keeps his optics shuttered, noting with concern that he is starting to feel lightheaded.*

Ironhide: The right mech doesn't exist. *voice flat and empty of emotion* No one wants a scarred up old broad as tall as they are.

Ratchet: Who wouldn't want a strong independent femme? *It's with a strange giddiness that he notices how his words are starting to slurr, the development concerning him, though he can't seem to think of why.*

Ironhide: Obviously, everyone. *lifts her head and scowls at him, the worried light in her optics glinting off the tracks of fresh tears*

Ratchet: An'... since when have I ever... been everyone? *Offers her a weak grin, reaching up with a wavering hand to try and brush away those tears.* C'mon now... no tears...

Ironhide: *alarm deepens her scowl* *sharply* What's wrong?

Ratchet: *Tilts his head the other way with a dazed frown, gesturing slightly with that raised hand.* 'M okay... just tired 's all... *Offlining his optics, he let his hand drop back to his side.* 'M dizzy...

Ironhide: *hand crashes into the side of his head in a stinging slap*

Ratchet: *Lets out a yelp at that, optics snapping back online in pained surprise.*

Ironhide: Did you open that leak? *hands on his chest plating, looking for the trigger that will move it back*

Ratchet: ...Think... I might've... *If she paid attention while she was looking for that catch, she'll be able to see the dark stain in the dirt under the medic, a sure sign that he has indeed torn that line further.*

Ironhide: *sees the stain and gets him open, then looks for the damage even as she once more rummages in her storage compartment* You stupid slagging sludge sucker.

Ratchet: *There's plenty of damage to choose from, a myriad of smaller lines leaking or torn altogether, though even combined, they don't account for the large amount of fuel. Deeper in his internals, one of the fuel lines running parallel to his spinal strut was being gouged by the damaged strut, fluids spurting from the torn rubber in spastic gouts, as though his systems were tying to compensate for the lack of circulation.* ...And here... I thought you didn't like me... *He manages, with a weak giddy laugh.*

Ironhide: *reaches in and wrenches that strut to one side a bit, and then starts applying duct tape to every leak she sees. Yes, his Ironhide has done this in the past, but the stuff they had then wasn't as bad as this sticky silver horror* Shut up.

Ratchet: *If he was going to say anything else, it was cut off as his weak laughter turns into a pained cough, the sound suspiciously wet.* ...Yes'm... *He manages to reply in a exhausted tone, once the coughing finally subsides.*

Ironhide: *finishes taping leaks, and then starts searching for disconnected wires, her hands quick, and her good optic nearly white with stress* Tell me what's wrong. I'm not a medic. You have to tell me.

Ratchet: 'S... just some fuel in the intake... nothing to be done for it here... *Keeps still for her while she works, watching her with dazed optics.*

Ironhide: ...Teach you to laugh every time one of us complained about you flushing our intakes. *still working*

Ratchet: Yeah yeah... *He huffs quietly, letting the femme work*

Ironhide: *finishes taping everything she can find, then turns his face toward her slightly so that she can press the head rush point. The small wee, however, isn't enough to combat his discomfort, and the manual override that she knows can only be used once*

Ratchet: *Far too out of it to think better, the medic just nuzzles briefly against her hand as she tilts his face, optics dimming more as exhaustion threatened to take him again.*

Ironhide: ... *stares at him as he nuzzles* What was that?

Ratchet: Hmmn?

Ironhide: *mutters* Running low on energy, and not generating energon fast enough to make up for it... *scowl*

Ratchet: ...Sounds right... you sure you're not a medic?

Ironhide: I've just been stuck in the company of one for the past several thousand vorns. *scowls and then leans down and plants the mother of all snogs on him, hoping that the energy thus transfered will both boost his systems and ease his pain*

Ratchet: *Her ploy seems to work, if the way his optics brighten in surprise is any indication. It also makes the medic's spark ache, not that he would say a word about it, though the expression on his face gives that away blatantly enough.*

Ironhide: *breaks the kiss and lifts her head to look at him* ...You said something earlier.

Ratchet: ...Which part?

Ironhide: *quietly, her optics searching* About you not being everyone.

Ratchet: I meant it. *His voice is quiet, but sincere.*

Ironhide: ...Why?

Ratchet: Because... I know how you feel. And because you're an incredible femme.

Ironhide: *puts a gentle hand to his face* *softly* You're glitching.

Ratchet: *He tilts his head into that light touch, relishing the contact.* I'm just being honest.

Ironhide: *gently strokes his cheek with her thumb, and then leans down to share more energy*

Ratchet: *Willingly accepts this, finding the process enjoyable.*

Ironhide: *sighs and relaxes, focusing on making him feel better without knocking him out* //Hmm... I think you're a better kisser than your brother.//

Ratchet: *It seems to be working, the medic letting out a content sigh.* //That so?//

Ironhide: *snuzzle and then more kiss* //Mmmhmm. Marry me?//

Ratchet: *Nuzzles weakly in response, returning those kisses.* //With pleasure.//

Ironhide: //Y'know, if I kiss you hard enough we won't wake up for a week...//

Ratchet: //Yeah? You're that good?// *Sounds rather amused by this*

Ironhide: //It's called a spark bond.// *settles down to snuggle a bit as she continues medicating him*

Ratchet: //I know... just teasing...// *He seems much better for her attention, relaxing a bit*

Ironhide: //Do we have time before the Fallen shows up?//

Ratchet: //I... think we do.//

Ironhide: //Want to?//

Ratchet: //More than anything.//

Ironhide: *ups the power, and a flash of light knocks both bots offline just as the wall of their prison falls and a hysterically laughing Jazz looks inside*