When the Sun goes Down - Transformers Prime Fanfic

~ Chapter 10 ~

Wrenches . . . And Ratchet's Logic

Ratchet worked on repairing Sundown through the night, occasionally he'd get Optimus commenting how he needed a break, but if Sundown were to be 100% functional, he needed to continuing working.

He had finally finished repairing her and was sitting in a chair, his arms crossed against his chassis and his helm lowered, drifting off into recharge.

"Ratchet." His optics snap open, expecting to see Sundown awake, but instead saw Wheeljack.
"You need to recharge." He commented, looking at the exhausted medic.

"Sundown needs to be kept an optic on." Ratchet shakes his helm.

"Then I'll keep an optic on her, at least until you wake up later, you need a recharge. If anything changes, I'll wake you."

Ratchet nods, too tired to argue before stumbling out of the medbay, towards his berth-room.

Wheeljack sighs, taking Ratchet's seat as he looks to Sundown, watching her recharge, as creepy as it sounded.

Arcee is a lot better then Sundown, she had no injuries aside from the dent in her helm, which really affected nothing except for a short stasis lock, she's recharging in her berth-room.

Ratchet had welded the cuts and slices in Sundown's frame, but still need time to heal, she'll be off the battlefield for a while.

Her chassis slowly rose and fell, signalling she were alive, for now.

Wheeljack sighs, rubbing his faceplate with his servos, why he made her feel this way, he didn't know.

His spark ached, and pulsed towards the femme laying on the medical berth. It was ranging from an annoyance to painful, he was going to talk to Ratchet about it soon.

Wheeljack's helm snaps up, hearing the femme move, her helm turned towards him and her body rolled over, groaning in her stasis lock as she grits her dentas together, baring them.

Wheeljack frowned, was she . . . dreaming?

Her lips moved, but no words came out as her facial features go back to normal.

Wheeljack sighs, hopefully she'd be awake soon.

~ Two weeks later ~

I groaned, opening my optics as my frame felt stiff and heavy. I turn my helm, looking around the room as I saw I was in the Autobots base, thank Primus it wasn't a dream.

I lift up my upper body, resting a servo on my helm as I moan in pain. I feel weak and like scrap, as if some kind of virus got into my systems. The base is dark, only a faint light from the computer, I'm assuming, is the only light I get to navigate.

I move my legs to hop off the medical berth, but I struggle to even move them.
"For frags sake." I mutter, flinching when I feel a servo on my shoulder plating.

"Need some help? 'Cause it looks like you're struggling a little bit."

"I'm fine." I push myself of the berth, and almost meet the floor, but Wheeljack keeps me upright, an arm wrapped around my waist.

He begins to help me move towards the hallway, he must be a mind reader, I did want to go to my quarters.

Even though he holds most of my weight, I can't help but struggle to walk, every time I lift my pedes, they feel like they're a million tones.

I also can't help but be intimidated by how close my frame is pressed into his, it's too close contact for comfort.

"You do realise I'm going to get into scrap from Ratchet when he discovers you're awake and I didn't tell him."