[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Searching for a Foundation (open with permission)

[Patch]

"Patch!"

Round azure optics instantly snapped up to her commander, peddes frozen on the floor. She- She was in trouble. Why was she in trouble? This didn’t sound like an “aw now, don’t be so hard on him” ‘Patch’ no no, this was a full on “What Did You Break” Kinda ‘Patch’.

She-...

She didn’t have words.

Her optics widened in disbelief, she stood up straighter in shock. Her intake went to form a ‘what?’, though got stuck, before any air was released- and hence when it was, it came out a small chuff.

As the boxy mech then began to speak, her confusion turned to apprehension, turned to… Well, a curdled mix of curiosity, betrayal and-... A raw… Woozy, Broken sort of ugly rot that settled and swirled around what little fuel remained in her tank… The weak, tired way he was standing, those, timid mannerisms- that Smile… An expression Patch would have walked worlds to see under nearly Any other circumstance. It all stacked up, and bled out into three, blaring, blinking, screaming words within the last-sparked’s helm.

This Wasn’t Ratchet.

“Yeah.”

A mild word, low in tone as her chin cocked lightly to the side. Her optic ridges were part way down- half in curiosity, though there remained a good deal of wariness in her posture and face, as her peddes began to backpedal. Starting slowly back towards the medical bay without turning around.

Scrutinizing optics flicked up and down the old mech’s frame. Searching for damage. Searching for scars she recognized... Looking for the ways he held himself, the ways he stood- the aches he’d complain of in movements, or grunts that, couldn’t have been gone, even if he didn’t know of them.

“Yeah, sure. Just, gimme a minute.”

They already had history with imposters in their midst. Amnesia sure would be a convenient excuse for a Plant to infiltrate their base… On another hand, maybe it was a side effect of some sort of mental tampering… Patch had gone over the files. She knew MECH had a history with Brain Shit. Maybe this was something similar- maybe he had some- some- sort of embedded Threat, Thing, that would activate once in the right position.

Then again… Maybe this really WAS Ratchet. Maybe they had knocked him out and dumbed him up just long enough to simply implant a camera, or sensors to try and get a view of their tech… After all- Cybertronian technology (even only what shabby example they had access to in such a remote outpost) was FAR more advanced than even the most cutting edge of that which humans had managed so far.

The young femme’s round face turned to look up to Optimus for a moment- try to read him. A fool’s errand, and she knew it at this point, though… At the very least, perhaps he could… Give… Some confirmation that this one was theirs- or… Some reassurance that it was going to be okay. If this meant what Patch thought it meant it would be BAD.

All conveyed with the passing glance of azure glow, the concern laced through her features, between the ever-present impurities. One more shift to the red and vermillion mech, then the yellow one beside her. she turned about face and began to make her way back from whence she came- her steps more cautious this time. Quick, and, smaller.

“Help him, if- if you can. Both of you.” Lower words, turned away, not so much as a slow of her steps. She paused, and glanced back to look square at Ratchet's face.

“I’ll be right back.”

With a few more steps and a swish of the Medibay clear glass doors, the stout femme went to a rolling table and swept up an oddly shaped little mechanical device- a scanner. With light urgency, at a... Sort of power-walk, she started making her return.

Patch was putting nothing past the little organic, poaching scum.
Not until she had a scan.

[Optimus Prime]

The thought that Ratchet was a trap from MECH could be a concern, and yet, Optimus did not even question things or let such a thought flick across his mind. Due to the video he had been given, due to what it entailed and how things were described... there was no doubt this was Ratchet. In his opinion, no matter how advanced they may have gotten, MECH simply did not have the time or means to replicate the mech, bait him out, and then fabricate a transmission to lure more of them to imply a failed mission so their puppet could get home to Omega One. Even if one could argue it was more than enough time to implant a virus to the processor and overwrite data, the video that had been sent to him was too refined, too genuine, and too personal to ever have been fraudulent.

Yet, this information hadn't been shared yet.

Caught up with everything that had occurred, Optimus hadn't even considered disclosing such things, too wrapped up in trying to figure out what to do NEXT rather than assure others this wasn't another Makeshift scenario. This meant that there was some confusion felt initially with Patch's stilted response to hearing the truth, some kind of thought grasping her that Optimus could not source. What he could do however was move to offer aid once again, though his intent faltered when Ratchet spoke.

Then smiled.

The smile itself wasn't unfamiliar. Orion had seen it a few times in the distant past, and even less in the days after he took on the title of Prime. However, seeing it thrown out so openly, with such little prompting, and not accompanying truly good news? It threw Optimus off, the expression looking alien and out of place in a way that suddenly made the other mech not even look familiar to him. This discomfort flicked through his eyes a moment, yet it was fleeting, his battle mask obscuring a grimace that may have formed, smothering over how unsettled it made him.

"Let us get you within the Medical Bay. There, you will have a place to sit."

There were no chairs in the Control Room, so, unless Ratchet decided he wanted to sit on some of the ridged platforms or clunk down onto the stairs the humans used? He would be limited to the floor which was not ideal. Optimus did not expect him to walk to the Medical Bay without assistance however, and he chose to try to offer aid once again, hoping this attempt would actually produce results rather than being interrupted a third time.

Moving, Optimus positioned himself to Ratchet's right before he grabbed onto the far corner of the backpack like extrusion. The square shape of the paneling gifted him a solid grip, and to pair with this his right hand planted upon Ratchet's upper arm to help brace him from tipping forward should the pull on armor throw him off. With Optimus' strength, he was able to heft a great portion of the other Cybertronian's weight off his own limbs, making any issues from weakness mostly negated so he could stand easier. Should he go true dead weight however, Optimus would need to change his plan.

Ratchet was not a small mech with his sturdy build, and holding his full weight hanging to his left side would throw even his balance off kilter.

Once Optimus’ grip was secure, there would be gentle guidance to move, not just pushing forward with force. Ratchet seemed to understand they were not threats at this point, which is part of why Optimus had just grabbed him as he did, however... much of his caution remained on some levels, over evaluating small things and being mindful in ways that were too far. A lot of this paranoia could not be shaken, it sourced from the fact Ratchet had looked at him with so much fear before. That memory would bore into him for a long while, and Optimus did not want to stomach seeing it again in any form no matter how mild it may be.

Cyan eyes were dimmed, not looking down at the now unfamiliar Cybertronian, glancing over to Bumblebee who seemed to not know what to do.

"Bumblebee, begin informing others so we do not have another confrontation."

Telling people one on one may make things settle better than a base wide announcement.

[Ratchet]

Ratchet couldn’t miss the look the femme had given him, a sort of disquiet, unhappy...almost disturbing look. She was clearly upset at the news, but when he had spoken, when he had tried to maybe smooth things over, it only seemed to upset her all the more.

He couldn’t understand what he had said that could have upset her. He hadn’t been rude, had he? He had thought he was being polite, to try and put her at ease. If they felt a quarter of the uncomfortable feeling he himself was going through right now, they must all be on edge. He wasn’t sure just how they could be more uneasy than he was – they at least remembered them.

Not knowing if the person you were talking to was once a friend or an enemy made one feel on edge.

When Optimus moved forward once again to help him, Ratchet nodded, and this time was able to get some help.

He was able to feel that Optimus was taking some of the weight off his own peds by grasping the back edge of his backpack. Even that bit felt like a big help to him, his body not feeling as heavy as it had a few minutes prior.

Directions, given.

Nodding his understanding, Ratchet pushed off the wall, and started towards the Medibay. He was still so very tired, but not as heavy, and the thoughts of being able to sit down, even for a few minutes, was worth it. Just to get off his feet.

He glanced towards Bumblebee as Optimus gave the yellow scout directions, feeling another sense of anxiety move through his tank. He was being such a nuisance, such a bother. And he remembered nothing.

“I’m sorry, I’m causing a lot of trouble,” he said quietly to Optimus as they walked towards the Medical Bay, “I’m sure whatever your plans were for today, this probably wasn’t it.”

He looked away from Optimus towards where Patch had been approaching, holding something in her hand. Continuing in his low tone, he spoke again, “I have a feeling she’s angry at me.”

[Bumblebee]

Bumblebee wasn’t sure what else he could do in this moment - and even with Patch asking them both to help Ratchet? He did not move from where he was standing.

He wanted to help, so very much, but now that Patch was here, now that Patch was aware that Ratchet was back and could actually get him into the Medical Bay to start fixing him? There was very little Bumblebee could really do.

He didn’t want to get in the way, he didn’t want to approach Ratchet too quickly alongside Optimus and spook the CMO into running, he didn’t want to corner him or make him lose what little trust had been built up.

Yet he didn’t want to feel useless. Shifting his weight awkwardly, he would cast a glance back toward the Medical Bay doors as if looking for answers.

Luckily, Optimus seemed to pick up on this cautious apprehension, and Bee’s gaze would shift to him as he was addressed, nodding at the order given.

--Will do. Please let me know if you need me to come back or if you need any help with anything.--

While he didn’t know what to do to assist in this moment, should he be required back in the Medical Bay later as nothing more than a familiar face to help calm Ratchet down if something happened? He would do what he could to help.

With that, he would turn on a heel to depart - making his way toward the corridor that led to the Rec Room to try and start finding others.

((Bumblebee is now out of this thread! If anyone would like to reference him meeting their character to discuss what happened, either in this thread/your future threads, that is 100% okay and no permission needed!))

[Patch]

Peddes kept clunking across the floor, making their way- The doors slipped back open not more than a moment after Optimus had surely finished his response to Ratchet’s comment; the young femme unhearing of it evidently, her optics focused harshly down upon the scanner in her servo.

While standing in the door, with a practiced swish, the young medic turned on the beam- though shone it on the floor beside the medic rather than turning it up to him.

“It’s just a light, it won’t hurt.”

A curt set of words with her optics downcast, though still quiet. Still mellow, and gentle.

Even if she Was a bit skeptical of Ratchet’s current position and status… If this was how things were gonna go- if this really was where he was at… She didn’t want to frighten him. Though alert and aware, it seemed he didn’t recognize their current surroundings; their home. (a place he spent more time in than damn near anyone in this base.) Better to over-explain things he may already know than leave him guessing as to whether something would cause pain, or damage.

With that, she angled the scanner up, and lowered it slowly from his helm to the floor. She took careful note of the spots it’s blue glow turned to red; then returned to them after she reached his peddes to sweep up and down over them a few more times, honing in on exactly where the damage lay.

This was… This was his bio signature...

This was him.

She softened some, as she looked at this. Almost surprised. Almost expecting something tricky- almost… Almost disappointed that there wasn’t any artifice.

This was real...

With a half-glance up, from the scanner, then down, she shuffled a bit farther out of the way. Allowing them passage.

[Optimus Prime]

The somber aura that had started to suffocate the room was unmistakable and absolute. Awkward silences forming, a sense of dread and unease lingering in the air that only seemed to grow worse as time went on... Optimus normally could do well to fight through any similar situation. Look for ways to try to bring hope to the equation, and seek a solution rather than wallowing in despair. Yet this scenario right here and now was different. He couldn't piece thoughts together well enough to think of something to say to any of the individuals present, because he honestly couldn't even come up with anything to quell his own unease and gain inner balance. To have any hope of recovery, to have any level of optimism? It required him to damn his oldest friend's skills, and that was an awkward terrain to walk across.

Optimus felt that Ratchet was such an accomplished surgeon... that if he wanted his mind gone?...

It was gone.

All the trust he had offered the medic through all their years side by side, all the confidence and belief in his skill... Everything he did to show he was a true healer, and then some! At any other time, it would be reassuring, yet now? Now it backfired hard and made it difficult for Optimus to have much confidence. The longer the dust settled, the longer things calmed... his sense of hope was draining fast to an almost numbness that manifested itself with a sort of detached gaze and lack of engagement with Ratchet's words right away. He didn't even really acknowledge Bumblebee's own comment, letting the Scout leave without an affirmative of any kind sent his way.

"Plans can always adapt. Let's just focus on the task at hand."

When they started to move, Optimus would ease into action in tandem, his longer strides modulated to be more on par with Ratchet's own. He kept his pace level and even, his grip firm so that he continued to keep a bit of weight off from the other mech. They would make some reasonable progress until Patch returned with the scanner, and he would shift to a momentary halt, gaze drifting over to the femme's own to try to judge her reaction to the initial scan.

Ah. She realized the reality of it all now, it seemed...

Closing his eyes a second, Optimus took in a near silent shift of air through his vents before he gently leaned forward, and started to walk Ratchet once more. Unless anything moved to stop him or someone said anything, he would continue to stride away from the Control Room and get them tucked into the Medical Bay where Ratchet couldn't become something akin to a freakshow. The last thing any of them needed were others rushing to try to offer their assistance... or worse... asking Ratchet if he remembered them as if it was beneficial. Even if he knew others would want to help as best they could and only had good intentions in mind, what Ratchet needed now was time, and even then there was no saying what that would even offer.

[Ratchet]

Ratchet moved – and was moved – into the Medibay and towards the nearest berth. He was thankful the larger blue and red mech was giving him a helping hand....it would have been embarrassing if he had gone face first onto the floor. He might not remember these people at the moment, but they remembered him, and he didn’t want to give them anything to feel awkward over.

Everything was awkward enough.

Once the nearest slab came close, Ratchet reached out and grasped it with both hands, pulling himself forward. When he was close enough, he planted both palms on the flat surface of the slab, and hoisted himself up and forward. He felt Optimus aid him in that, helping to lift some of Ratchet’s weight, so that it was easier to turn and settle his backside onto the slab.

Once there, he gave a rather loud ex-vent of relief. At least now he didn’t have to worry about collapsing in front of everyone.

Now the awkwardness settled in again. He wasn’t sure what to do or say. Glancing towards Optimus Prime, Ratchet wondered if the large mech was always so....quiet. He almost felt a sense of disappointment coming from the other mech, but he honestly didn’t know if it was real, or if he himself was just feeling nervous and uneasy about the whole thing and was putting emotions on the other one.

He wanted to say something to try and make the other two feel a little better, cheer them up somehow, but he had no idea what.

Glancing from Patch to Optimus, and back again to Patch, he spoke.

“Thank you. I feel better already, less likely to keel over. Is....uh....so now what?”

[Patch]

The lights in sickbay were gentle. Warm. If for no other reason, in attempt to keep the electric bill down; for the sake of the native's "taxes", and those who budgeted the money therein.

The twin berths on the left side of the room were wide, and bulky. Perhaps almost inviting, if not for the strange, circular ports beneath the low side bumpers. The headpiece at the top end -the edges closest to the wall- only *just* risen enough from the arrow patterned slab to support good ventilation. A terminal rested beside each berth with a green, translucent fold-out screen.

Across from the slab which Ratchet sat upon, he would find a gargantuan cylinder, well taller than a large mech, mostly dark, though softly lit whitish blue from within. There were a series of heavy rectangles inside, two of which protruded forward at about chest height. Supports it seemed, to keep someone steady and standing upright in the center.

“Don’t worry about anything- we got ya covered.”

Patch spared him a glance as she began making her way to the farthest edge of the room from the door. “You’re doin’ great just like ya are.”

Passed the third, and flattest slab- that which had a mounted circle above it, and a sort of, thick, broken wing below to make it rise and fall- sat two poles, each with a yellow box, and a rectangular screen, and two blue tubes; one at the front, one at the side. Grasping one, the stubby young medic rolled it out, and towards the two.

“This is, a sort of scanner.” She cast her gaze upon the object as she walked, her voice that of someone with a very bad stomach ache they were almost succeeding at hiding.

She realized he… Likely didn’t know what it was.
That was a lot.

“It doesn't really feel like anything. This bit is a magnet-” She unlooped one of the blue tinged tubes, and gingerly held out the metallic end for Ratchet to touch if he wished. The four tabs were just strong enough to generate a mild drawing pressure, should he allow it to come close.

“It attaches to a part of someone’s frame, and… Can help show more details about whatever’s underneath; damage or otherwise. It can monitor things too- keep track of how fast a spark is pulsing.”

She looked him right in the optic, expression quiet and earnest. Genuinely seeking permission.

“I’d like to put it on the spot on your helm that hurts, if that’s okay.”

[Optimus Prime]

Optimus assisted Ratchet every step of the way with a firm grip that pulled a decent chunk of his mass off his legs. Across the Control Room, through the door into the Medical Bay, all the way to the medical slab... where he also helped in pulling him up and onto it. It wasn't until the other mech was settled in place that he let go, making sure he wasn't about to topple backwards or fall forward from passing out. With this done, Optimus then took a few paces backwards and out of the way, his arms moving to hand slack on either side as if he did not know what to do with them.

Still his battle mask remained in place.

"-Is....uh....so now what?"

"Now, Patch is in charge. She will be managing possible resolutions."

Monotone words with no inflection to be found.

"You may not remember her, yet she is trustworthy and only has best interests in mind."

Optimus may be speaking for Patch when he said as much, though he was willing to wager this was more than true. While she and Ratchet appeared to have clashed at times given what his old friend said in the past, it was more on par with the younger medic's playful edge within the Medical Bay rather than any true malice or ire towards one another. Despite knowing her for such a very short time without much interaction at all except brief contact in passing, he trusted her because Ratchet had trusted her in his domain. Optimus truly believed that she would look after his oldest friend with care and a real intent to help.

If he did not? Things may be different right here in the now.

He would want to remain, want to monitor and watch. Should Optimus have had any reservations about Patch and her want to help there was no way he would leave Ratchet unattended. He may not understand what would be going on medically, but he could be present. Alas, such concerns were not there, and once Ratchet seemed to have settled, he only wanted to leave. It could be seen as abandoning the other mech in some ways, Dumping him upon Patch and making him 'her problem', yet it was painful to look at him. Painful to keep seeing a familiar face making unfamiliar expressions, speaking in an odd inflection, and just being... a stranger inhabiting a valued friend.

Deadened eyes looked out upon the other two Cybertronians, a neutral expression that matched his neutral words.

"Do you have need of my assistance."

He did not want to be here. He did not want to remain. Optimus simply wanted to retreat to his room and try to consider any other options that were available to them. Try to think up possible contacts he could send relays to, assuming those small outposts were even still in existence across the stars. He would likely watch and re-watch Ratchet's last video until it was burned into his processor and he could recite every word, looking for any other clues that may be there that could help guide Patch, even though he knew there wouldn't be.

Cyan eyes drifted from looking at them both, to then only look at Patch, exhaustion evident even if the rest of his face was masked over.

[Ratchet]

Ratchet’s optics followed Patch’s motions with interest, even if he felt exhausted. He was hoping that this other individual – this healer, apparently, could help him, both physically, and mentally. Maybe she knew of a way to fix his mind, to give him back the memories he had apparently lost. It felt so awkward, looking at people and knowing that they remembered you in ways you couldn’t return. Almost like they knew your secrets, not sure if they knew certain things about you that know, even you yourself had no way of knowing. It was an odd, personal, intimate feeling, and he didn’t really like it very much.

At the same time, she was talking as she worked, clearly attempting to put him at ease, and that did help. He didn’t know her....or rather, didn’t remember her...well enough to know if she was, perhaps, just chatty anyway, or if she was going out of her way to help, but he appreciated it all the same.

When she asked permission to attach a scanner to his head, to see how much damage was done, he nodded. He wanted to look her straight in the optic and say, “Yes, please, scan it, scan everything, get it all back in order, I feel like a part of my head is open and exposed and it’s awful!”

Instead, he just nodded, too tired to even really smile in thanks.

A few seconds later, the other mech spoke, and Ratchet turned his attention to him.

For a brief second, Ratchet had another of those strange, split-mind moments, where it was like there was a stranger in his own head, talking, seeing certain things, making observations that he himself didn’t or couldn’t. He had only know this Optimus Prime for a very short time – less than a single day, and to say he wasn’t intimidating would be an outright lie. He was large, powerful, and held his frame almost as if he didn’t know what to do with it. Like he had just had his sentience poured into something he had no real idea how to work. Which was an odd thought for Ratchet, considering he himself had only really been alive for a few hours.

At the same time, the other awareness, the...the Other... suddenly made several mental notes. The larger mech’s optics were paler than normal, a sure sign he was exhausted. Even in the way he was moving, there was a powerful sense of ..... emotion. Unease. Worry. Anxiety. The voice, as well, seemed strained. Not quite as deep as normal, an undertone of strain. The Other recognized all this within microseconds, and with it, the knowledge that Optimus Prime would rather tear one of his own arms off before showing any of this, just made it all the more concerning that it was there.

Thoughts, wisping across his damaged processor:

Anger: He’s exhausted, he needs to take fuel and recharge. He does this all the time!

Concern and worry: What’s happened to affect him like this? Did we lose another one?

Sudden fear: What’s going on? Why am I thinking these things? Why do I remember things I don’t remember!?

He was speaking before he was even aware he had been going to, the words appearing in his mouth unknown, unbidden. Two sentences, one spoken in a familiar tone to the Prime, and the other, hot on the heels of the first, in the newer, more open tone of the newly awakened.

“Optimus, I’m sorry.”

Then:

“I’m being a great inconvenience to you all here, I know. I wish there was more I could do.”

It had sounded, for a split second, like two individuals speaking, yet with the same voice. Then Ratchet gave a deep exvent, lowering his helm and closing his optics.

He was getting a terrible headache.

[Patch]

‘Now Patch is in charge’

She looked to him at this. The whole, damn story written on her freckled face; surprise, acceptance, illness, suddenly. It would seem the situation had yet again stricken her. This reality was difficult to take, and the young femme was trying she was, but it was… Sudden. And… Very unpleasant to swallow.

As Ratchet listened to Optimus, she leaned up a bit, and settled the large magnetic lead against the blackened mark on the older mech’s helm. She was careful in her placement, as not to let the magnet smack down into place, and potentially disturb any sensitive metal. Gentle as could be, before easing back down, and… Hearing him.

“Please don’t say that.” She spoke softly, deeply, warmly- though with no smile. Looking him right in the optic. Maybe he meant it. Maybe it was merely true, and there was nothing one could do to change that right now- but Patch certainly didn’t wanna hear it; not from him.

“I’m-... I’m here for a reason. I care about my job- I care about you.”

Words she meant, words she’d always meant, and wanted to say, and never had the guts, nor inclination, nor the… Trust, that he would listen. That he would really truly hear her, and not just… Brush it off. Move on to the next ever fragging important task. The young medic moved to the side of the slab, and began to fiddle with the box of the monitor. It flicked active, though no notable difference would be felt.

“You’re no inconvenience.” She looked to the monitor, then spoke simply. Plainly.

“You’re the reason I’m here.”

Steady. And she meant it. In more ways than one.

Once optimus spoke, she looked up from the buffering screen for a moment, then back down.

“No sir. I’ll keep you updated. ah- actually…”

The young femme turned, looked him quickly up and down, then reached out- gesturing for his servo.

“your uh, your hand, sir.”

The light tinge of a blue glow upon the inner workings of his palm caught her attention, it seemed.

“What happened here?”

[Optimus Prime]

There was nothing that could be said to assist Patch with her sudden violent promotion in rank. Perhaps, if Optimus were in a better mindset, he would have something to give her. Words of encouragement, assurances she would have help from whoever was able to do so... She would not be alienated with no outside assistance to bear the weight of the outpost in her shoulders. While he did wish to depart at this moment to try to grapple emotions and evaluate options, he would return at any call to do what little he could, even if it was simply manual labor in moving Ratchet.

It was a hypocritical mindset. To believe she wouldn't be alone, while simultaneously wishing to depart and do just that... yet emotions could produce unstable things when barely reigned in, and bottled grief and shock was real.

"Optimus, I’m sorry."

Optimus' eyes widened, his gaze drifting from its blank look that had been aimed across the room, down to stare at Ratchet pointedly from the edge of his vision, almost as if he believed if he looked at the anomaly straight on it would vanish. There was a sort of lurched flicker of discomfort and unease that shot through him, the apology shaking him in a twisting way that caused his tank to churn atop itself. The three words felt familiar, true familiarity. It was as if Ratchet was speaking from the dead with tone and inflection, this puppeted husk looking like his old friend for a flicker of a second... before everything folded back as quickly as it had formed. Returning to the alien that inhabited his frame.

Beneath the mask, Optimus' mouth twisted into a pained grimace, an agony felt at being gifted that faint flicker only to be denied. It showed him Ratchet may still be within! Yet, what should be a glimmer of hope still felt like a knife twisting within a shredded wound that wouldn't heal anytime soon. With this his jaw would tighten, letting Patch speak and fill the void he would have let hang for too long while trying to collect what he could even say.

At the medic's words, Optimus' attention broke from its loop as it drifted down to his hand, the limb lifting up so that he could look at it. Most of the liquid had smeared away and brushed off, but thin lines of blue shone between indents and seams between joints and panels of metal. It was a keen eye for Patch to notice such things, though the slate grey color of his hand likely helped in highlighting it.

"Simply rations. Nothing more."

He barely remembered crushing the cube... its shape blistering out beneath his grip. It was a vague haze of a memory overshadowed by far more pressing matters.

Squared off fingertips flexed out some, feeling now if anything had lodged within the workings. There was nothing he was aware of, and if there were issues they weren't even felt, his systems still ready to fight from stress and the flicker of hope and duress from mere seconds prior.

Looking back over, Optimus spoke to Ratchet. Hopefully... the real Ratchet.

"I will look into options, old friend..."

Somber words.

"Please. Rest."

With this, Optimus would turn fully away, intent to leave should nobody stop him.

I will find a solution... I have to...