Inflicted (TFP Ratchet Fanfiction)

6: Burned

Ratchet stood at the monitor, having been locked in a still position for quite some time. The screen in front of him, just inches away, glared at him in what seemed to him like triumph. His servos laid flatly on the keyboard, having typed a while ago, but were now as stiff as the rest of his chassis. Ratchet's optics could only stare back, his expression one of turmoil and doubt.

The day had begun and immediately Ratchet had been forced to get to work again. Already, much of the code had been encrypted, but it seemed to be an endless stream of work and rabbit trails. Ratchet was a bit glad for this; the longer those things were away from Megatron's servos the better. Yet, that meant more trouble for Ratchet, and his family back home in Nevada. The warlord would become impatient if it took too long, he knew, and his team would stop at nothing to get him back, especially after the last recording.

Which meant that they were more than likely to get seriously injured.

The thought made Ratchet shudder, his spark sinking and his tanks churning anxiously. The thought of his team, at any given time, made the medic anxious, if he was being honest with himself. Megatron had told him that none of them had come for him. Which, Ratchet told himself, is what he wanted, what was best.

So why was there still a feeling of betrayal and hurt stinging deep down inside him?

He tried to push it back. Ratchet knew they were doing what was right, what he had first ASKED them to do. At the time, Optimus coming to decode it was worse than him decoding it himself. He had a wanted them to stay away, right? Because these horrible weapons couldn't and shouldn't be found. The risks, the dangers, the losses. All was too great for such a thing as that.

And here Ratchet was, working on decoding it.

The medic growled in frustration at himself. He felt ridiculous, stupid even, for surrendering to the likes of Megatron. Over the lives of simple Vehicons. Ratchet tried to convince himself to forget them, let Megatron kill them ALL, as long as they were safe from being plundered of their minds and personalities. They were clones, practically tools, only there for the numbers and really nothing else. But Ratchet's medic code, his morals, were getting in the way of him fully convincing himself of that. He was a life saver, not taker. He didn't like to see those without a chance get slain without a hint of mercy. He was not a warrior, and that was a huge reason why. He cursed himself for it.

Or maybe it was a little more than that. Ratchet, after all, had lived through the war on Cybertron. He knew loss well, and he knew sacrifice. More than he liked to think about. Even as a medic, trading one important thing for the greater good was nothing he hadn't experienced before. No, perhaps it was more than just his code that had made him step in like that, that had brought him to decoding this monstrosity.

Ratchet sighed in frustration, raising his servos and rubbing his eyes tiredly. He had an idea of what it was. He was angry at himself for it, but that couldn't shake the feeling away, no matter how hard he tried.

Loneliness. The every present, anxiety inducing feeling of loneliness. Of being left behind.

Megatron had to be lying, a small part of him whispered, in the corners of his processor where he let his emotional problems get pushed back. He bit his derma, his chest feeling like it was being crushed from the inside out. He shouldn't have the desire to know. He should have been satisfied with the answer that they had made the right choice.

The medic jolted, looking up at the screen again with a new look of intrigue. While this was only one monitor, all of them had to be connected to the ship in some way. Which meant that maybe, just maybe, he could get into the mainframe. If he looked into the ship's log, or even the security cameras on the outermost parts of the ship, maybe he could find out if Megatron had deceived him. He hesitated, rubbing his digits together as he stood there in thought, his feelings colliding with themselves. He could easily get caught doing this, especially if they were keeping track of his activities. But the urge was so strong, it was almost too much for him to bear any longer.