Ep. 1.5 - SOMA - (Closed)

[Deleted]

Before the war, Mirage likely wouldn’t have batted an eye at the prospect of lying to a friend or ally. When it came to matters of business, or forging partnerships, or maintaining one’s sterling reputation, a few tactical untruths placed here and there were a necessity. In that respect, the war actually altered his moral code for the better; it was an odd tradeoff, really, becoming simultaneously less comfortable with lying to one’s friends, yet more comfortable with taking lives.

Mirage’s conscience was a very confusing thing. There seemed to be very little rhyme or reason to why its discretion was so inconsistent, with its own rules and those set by the general consensus regarding morality. If he had to hazard a guess, Mirage would assume it ran off of some odd sense of honor, a bias towards those who were kind to or allied with him. Killing a Decepticon was unfortunate, but inevitable, and therefore acceptable within reason. Lying to or otherwise acting against one of his own, however...well, that just left a bad taste in his mouth in most circumstances.

Including this one.

It was only because he felt that the situation absolutely called for it that Mirage managed to not feel too much guilt about lying right to Wash’s face, especially considering the mech had been so very concerned for his well-being.

Fortunately for Mirage, he did not have to dwell on his quiet pang of guilt for long. His attention was called to far more pressing matters when Wash mentioned Ratchet’s name, and glanced nervously to the side in a way that did not bode well at all. Following the other mech’s gaze, Mirage turned his head to look beyond the hole in the wall. His optics did not need long to adjust before they could make out the form lying in the shadows, and once they did they brightened with alarm.

He turned his head sharply, looking back to Wash for an explanation, but before giving the mech the opportunity to respond he began moving through the rubble towards Ratchet, only to stop after a few steps when he realized he was being rash and that perhaps it was not wise to venture closer to the other mech.

He paused, his foot hovering in the air a moment before he drew it back, settling it beside its twin as he turned to look back to Wash, simultaneously concerned and somewhat embarrassed that he had forgotten himself as he had.

“Is he alright?” He asked, unsure why he was asking since the answer was clearly NO given the medic was unconscious. “Is….have you any idea what caused his collapse?”

[Deleted]

Wash followed Mirage back towards the gap. His footsteps stumbled when he hit the rubble, and he picked his way through it awkwardly.

When Mirage hesitated he raised a hand in assurance.

“Don't worry – whatever hit him doesn’t seem to be affecting us,” he said. “I mean, it hasn’t affected me anyway. And I can’t pick up anything on the scanner that might be transmitting a block to Cybertronian processor activity. I have no idea what did this to him.”

Wash turned his gaze down to Ratchet. The burly medic lay flat on his back amid the crumbled stone that lay outside the wall of the building. He appeared to be undamaged, and yet his optics were blackened and his limbs were still. Rain streaked down his face and his white plating.

“It happened when we got near this house,” said Wash. “We were following a faint ping that we both assumed was yours. I took the lead and walked through the hole in the wall. As soon as I was through it I heard the crash. When I turned back he was like this.”

Wash knelt. He gestured to Ratchet helplessly.

“I tried to wake him, but... no luck. When I searched the house for any sign of a hostile transmitter I found you lying on the floor in a similar state. I won’t lie to you: I began to panic a little at that point.”

He gently slapped the medic’s face. “Ratchet! Wake up! Damn it. You know, he complained of a headache when we were about fifty feet back from the house. We were so preoccupied with finding you we didn’t think anything of it. Now I wish we had. Ratchet! Wake up, old man! Give me hell for hitting you!”

Frustrated, Wash raised his hand again.

And were he looking closely, Mirage might spot it first: a crumb of blue light gleaming in one of the medic’s optics.

[Deleted]

Wash’s words did not quite bring Mirage the reassurance he had hoped they would. While it was certainly comforting to know that whatever had fallen their medic seemed unlikely to affect them as well, it was equally discerning to know that Wash hadn’t the foggiest idea just what Ratchet’s mystery ailment was, or what had caused it.

Nothing about their CMO suffering from some sort of unknown condition boded well for them. Nothing at all.

Following after Wash, Mirage knelt down on the other side of Ratchet, his eyebrows knitting together in concern behind his mask as he looked from one mech to the other before his optics settled upon their fallen medic.
Was continued to speak, and Mirage continued to listen despite his attention being focused upon Ratchet rather than the other mech’s face. Usually he considered it rather rude to not keep one’s optics focused upon whomever was speaking, but given the circumstances, he felt his slip in manners was forgivable.

At the mention of Ratchet complaining of a headache prior to his collapse, Mirage grimaced, not at all liking the sound of that particular symptom, or the possible ailments which it might have been born from. He could only hope that whatever it was that was plaguing their medic, it wasn’t serious.

While Wash attempted to rouse Ratchet back into the realm of the waking, Mirage busied himself with activating his thermal sensors, blinking a bit as the world before him shifted into solid masses of color, silhouettes made of various warm hues. Despite himself, his shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch in relief as he looked to the medic’s chest and discovered it had not, in fact, faded to the pale yellow color reserved for sparks on their way to being snuffed out.

He did not voice this fact out loud, however, as he did not particularly wish for Wash to know that for a moment he had been sincerely worried their medic may have had a foot in the well.

With another blink, the entire spectrum of color returned to his world, and with it detail.

Luckily for Ratchet, or more specifically, his face, Mirage vision returned to its usual scope in time to catch the faint flicker of blue fighting for life in his darkened optic, and he immediately raised a hand towards Wash in an effort to halt the mech before he could give him another light smack.

“---Ratchet?” He ventured, unsure if the medic could hear them.

“Ratchet, I do hope you appreciate the irony of my coming here in your stead to keep you from harm, because I am so far removed from my ability to do so myself that I fear I may have lost my sense of humor altogether.”

He wasn’t speaking to Ratchet directly, so much as he was speaking at the mech, hoping his words and voice would help draw him back into consciousness.

“Really, you have given us a terrible fright you know. I may very well need you to prescribe me something for the nerves I now have.”

It was not the best time for joking, he knew, but the situation was in desperate need of lightening, so he felt a bit humor to mask his overarching concern was not entirely uncalled for.

[Deleted]

"I've got something to prescribe to you, all right," growled Ratchet.

Startled, Wash froze. Ratchet reached up and irritably shoved his hand away before hauling himself upright with a groan.

He moved like all of his joints had rusted up. Ratchet sat in a hunch on the wet ground and put his face in one hand, while rain dripped off his amour. He gingerly touched the side of his helm, tapped one optic, and frowned. When he turned to look at the other two Autobots he was squinting painfully.

"How long were you hitting me for?" he said testily.

"I only did it once!" said Wash.

"Then how hard was it?"

"Barely anything at all! It was just a love tap. I didn't belt you in the mouth. You wouldn't wake up!"

"Well, I'm up now. Primus, in the future leave the resuscitations to me, would you? My head is killing me. Ugh. Wait a minute."

Ratchet looked sharply at Mirage.

"You!" he said. "You're here! Alive! What in the name of the Allspark happened to you? First you disappeared off our scanners - which, in retrospect, is not all that surprising given your usual MO - and then we couldn't reach you by comm. Are you all right? Were you injured?"

With his usual gruff disregard for personal space, Ratchet reached out and grabbed Mirage by his upper arm. He gripped tightly, as if trying to convince his groggy processor that the spy really was kneeling beside him and was not a ghostly figment of his imagination. Without a word he regarded Mirage shrewdly, searching for any visible damage.

[Deleted]

Mirage never thought he would see the day where he was actually grateful to hear Ratchet growl at him, yet there he was, feeling a rush of relief wash over him as the medic groggily pushed himself upright. He moved slowly, with great effort, and Mirage had to check the urge to reach out and help him sit up lest he find his own hand batted away like Wash’s had been.

Not that Ratchet seemed to need the help in the first place, judging by how quickly he rounded on Mirage, his own physical grievances shoved to the side as he sharply addressed the spy and took him by the arm, inspecting him for injury as medics were generally wont to do, even when their own health was in far dire straits.

As much as he appreciated the medic’s concern, Mirage was mostly just glad that Ratchet seemed to be feeling well enough to fuss over him in the first place.

Smiling faintly, he reached out to place a hand over the one holding his arm, to reassure Ratchet of both his presence and his good health.

“I am fine, Ratchet.” He replied, his tone gentle but confident. “Really, I am. The only ailment plaguing me at the moment is the dire need for a shower.”

It was a joke.

...Mostly.

“As for what happened...well, it suffices to say you aren’t the only one who has inexplicably fainted at an inconvenient time today.”

He didn’t dare to hope that Ratchet wouldn’t pry further - knowing the medic, the chances of that being a satisfying answer to his concerns were slim to none. Still, Mirage was not going to be forthcoming with further information unless prompted.

[Deleted]

Ratchet's optics grew wide. He released Mirage as if burned.

"You inexplicably f-" he said.

He caught himself, and his gaze darted to Wash. In an instant the medic composed himself again, his expression returning to one of cultivated irritability.

"Well, something in this area must have affected us," he muttered. He lowered his head and brushed a hand across his optics. "This entire city is abandoned and likely condemned - perhaps there is a lingering chemical or electromagnetic presence that temporarily disrupted both of our neural nets. It has been known to happen."

Wash looked bemused. "But I feel fine."

"It's a touch and go thing! Every brain core and its network is different. Small variables that influence once might not register with another. No more questions! I feel fine, and Mirage evidently does too. Now hold still."

Ratchet grasped Wash by the shoulder and used the blue carbot as a brace to leverage himself to his feet. He grimaced and wavered once before standing firm, his mouth flattened into a hard line. The rain beat against his head and shoulders and he glanced up at it in disgust.

"Let's return to base," he said. "I'll perform a scan on Mirage and myself once we get there, to ensure there are no lingering issues. I am inclined to believe this is nothing we need to concern ourselves with, however. Are you fit to travel through a ground bridge, Mirage?"

The medic regarded Mirage shrewdly.

[Deleted]

...Oh. Well now. That was a bit concerning. Whatever it was that prompted Ratchet to cut himself off mid-word and redirect the rest of his sentence...it did not inspire very much confidence in Mirage. He regarded the medic with a somewhat worried expression, silently wondering just what it was that was not being said, before following the other mech’s lead and pushing himself to his feet.

Absently, he dusted off his plates, his knuckles brushing against his chest and shoulders to dismiss the grit and rainwater which had so rudely invited themselves to his plating like unwelcome house guests loitering about when their presences was so clearly unwanted, and such an obvious inconvenience.

Good God, but he really did need a shower after all this.

Looking back over to Ratchet, Mirage’s mouth thinned slightly, his expression suddenly thoughtful. He gave the medic a once-over, his optics searching for signs of injury or distress that he had perhaps missed, as he was not entirely convinced that the older mech was doing as well as he would have he and Wash believe.

When questioned, Mirage simply raised an eyebrow, a gesture which was entirely lost behind his mask. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing, given he did not think Ratchet would very much appreciate even that minor show of sass.

“I believe that is a question better asked of yourself, Ratchet.” He replied, returning the shrewd look being directed at him with one of his own.

“You...do not look entirely well, if you’ll pardon my saying so.”

[Deleted]

Ratchet snorted.

"I feel perfectly fine," he said. "You needn't fret over my welfare. Whatever hit us has passed. Let us simply return to base where I'll perform the scan, and then we can all get on with our night. No one is hurt, and the strange message that drew us here is no longer transmitting. Is is clear to be seen that MECH is no longer in Kamchatka. The mystery of the message shall have to remain that: a mystery. I for one see no reason for us to loiter here in this miserable weather any longer."

He waved dismissively, but Mirage's eye was sharp. The medic did look distracted, as if a troubling thought preyed upon his mind. His suspicious gaze cut back and forth to the spy before he turned to Wash.

"Can you call for a ground bridge?" he said.

Wash had an odd look on his face, but he nodded.

"Yeah, stand by," he said. "I left the channel open. Just give me a moment to link back to the control system."

He wandered off a short distance, his hand touched to the side of his head. Ratchet watched him go with narrowed optics before he turned to Mirage. When he spoke it was in a quiet voice that barely carried over the sound of the drumming rain.

"Perhaps it goes without saying, but it may be prudent to keep the details of this sortie out of any official reports," he said. "Unless you feel there is something that needs to be said...?"

Ratchet arched a brow.

[Deleted]

Mirage wasn’t sure who Ratchet thought he was fooling, but he was not the slightest bit convinced that the medic was running at 100% - He’d grant him 85% at best. However, as doubtful as he was about the other mech’s claims, he knew better than to try to argue otherwise. Nothing productive would come of pressing the issue. Most medics he had known all shared the distinct tendency to downplay their own injuries and ailments, to keep their burdens to themselves under the stubborn notion that they could take care of themselves on their own.

So Mirage kept his thoughts to himself, held his tongue from giving voice to any contrary arguments, and watched as Wash walked away, leaving he and Ratchet alone together, in relative privacy.

When the medic in question addressed him, his brow raised in question, Mirage simply responded with a blink, his optics lingering on Ratchet’s face as he searched for...something. What, exactly, was anyone’s guess. After a moment he canted his head slightly, looking thoughtful, before nodding.

“You’ll hear no objection from me.” He replied, knowing full well how open-ended his word choice was.

After all, not hearing an objection did not necessarily mean no objection existed. It simply meant those objections, if they did indeed exist (and Mirage was not saying they did), would not be voiced.

[Deleted]

For a moment Ratchet said nothing. He gave Mirage a long hard look, while the rain beat down between them and raised a misty haze from the muddy ground beneath their feet.

Finally, he nodded.

"Very well," he said.

A burst of green light erupted nearby. By the time Ratchet turned around a ground bridge had already opened. It swirled gently in the night, making the raindrops that fell in front of it glisten.

Wash stood beside it. His hands were folded politely behind his back, his expression neutral. If he found Mirage and Ratchet's evasive behaviour to be suspect, he evidently felt it wise to keep that opinion to himself.

"All set, gentlemen," said Wash. "Looks like the control room is still empty. We should be able to sidle back home without drawing notice to our little unauthorized foray, which I presume is now our current objective?"

"Good," said Ratchet shortly. "I'll leave you to handle the ground bridge log. Mirage and I need to get back to the medical bay. After you, Mirage."

And with one hand anchored firmly against the spy's back, he firmly ushered Mirage towards the waiting portal.






((and wrap!))