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ayngelcatTitle: The Incompatible Medics
Universe: G1
Rating: PG
Characters: Optimus Prime, Ratchet, First Aid, Groove
Warnings: mild sexual suggestiveness
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, or any of the characters or scenarios from the series within this story
Prompt: 12 June 2010 prompt: ‘Incompatibility’
Notes Set after season 2 around about the time Prime and Megatron agree on a ceasefire. Part of the Substitute verse and part of how the Protectobots had a fair share of issues of their own, including fitting in with the rest of the Autobots. Especially First Aid with Ratchet: I always see Ratchet as very ‘old school’ medically, whereas First aid was a bit more ‘holistic’ and New Agey’.
The Incompatible Medics
“No matter how many ways you put it, I just don’t get it, Prime!” said Ratchet unhappily. “Why do we need another medic?”
Prime looked as tired as Ratchet felt. He sighed, wearily. “Look - it’s not so much that we need another medic ,” he said wearily. “It’s just that having decided to bring the Protectobots down here – well, First Aid happens to be one of them.”
Ratchet grunted. “Yeah - well! You know my feelings about that, Prime! And I’m not the only one who’s ‘put out‘. Inferno ain’t happy. Neither’s Red Alert. And there’s talk – some reckon that young copter’s gonna be more trouble than he’s worth.”
“Agreed, young mechs are inclined to be impetuous,” Prime nodded.. “But if we’d allowed that to put us off, we wouldn’t have Bumblebee here would we? Now don’t you worry - I’m arranging for a mentor for the ‘copter. As for Red ...." Prime shook his head, “It’s the old thing about somebody taking his job again. Streetwise, this time. And, this time, he seems to have infected Inferno with the same delusion!”
“Yeah, well I can see his point!” Ratchet cut in. He sighed. “Look – I know Red can be twitchy, but this time – getting all of them in – it’s giving us the message we ain’t up to our jobs, Prime!”
Prime sighed heavily. He had known it would be like this. How to get his team to see that this was help for them. A break. A chance for some much needed R and R after nearly three years of solid fighting on a alien world. “Of course you’re up to your jobs,” he said quietly. “You’re the best. All of you! How could you even imagine I don’t think that? “
Ratchet looked down at the table. “Look !” said Prime, “see this as a chance to lighten the load, Ratch. Time for bonding and team building. I don’t know what Megatron’s up to but all this cease fire business, I don’t trust him one iota. I’m gonna need you all firing on all cylinders if he starts up again.”
”Besides, “he added, “Protectobots are gonna be working more with the humans. Free us up to get our force back in top notch order. Try and see it that way, Ratch. Trust me for once will you?”
“I’ll try,” muttered the medic.
........
The first thing Ratchet noticed as he drew near the medbay was the smell. It was a kind of sweet, soothing aroma; not unpleasant at all. In fact it made him feel rather relaxed and at ease. And at the same time extremely annoyed. Whose darn fool idea of a joke was this? If those twins had let off some kind of device ….
The doors to medbay hissed open and Ratchet stepped in to his well known stamping ground. Instantly he gawped. What …
What the hell has happened to my medbay?
Whereas before ten berths had filled the bland, functional room – making it a little crowded but with quite room enough to do what was necessary - now there were only six. And each berth had barriers around it, like he’d seen in some human hospitals. The barriers were painted in soft colors, and the berths had been resprayed to match. Beside each was a small table upon which sat an attractive crystal arrangement. The crystals glowed pleasantly. Above the berths pictures hung, deep space themes of the same soothing ilk as the crystals and the smell.
What the ….!!
There was more. Ratchet’s beloved resuscitation and emergency operating equipment, always primed for action in the center of the bay was nowhere in sight. Gone also were the xray machines , the replacement parts cabinet and the spare circuitry kit. In their place was a large wooden desk. On one end was another of the infernal crystal arrangements, this one evidently emanating the smell. Arranged next to it were a line of trays, each containing a neat pile of datapads.
Gaping, hardly able to take it all in, Ratchet picked one up. It had a list on it:
Name :
Faction :
Injury or condition :
Ratchet grunted. Obviously patient care charts. Not that he’d ever bothered with such things. If your neural circuitry wasn’t up to storing patient details, you didn’t deserve to be a medic. Fair enough though, he supposed. Some doctors liked them. Then his mouth fell open again, because the list went on:
Likes and dislikes :
Preferred energisation method :
Preferred wash routine and polish requirements :
Holovision choices : .
Ratchet’s optics almost boggled out of his head. Holovision choices? Raising his head, he saw to his horror that a holovision set had indeed been installed above each berth.
The end door opened and a slender brown and white mech emerged clutching more datapads. He beamed when he saw Ratchet.
“Hey!” he said. “The legendary cybersurgeon” he held out his hand. “Honoured to meet you properly at last, bro! I’m Groove – as you probably know. First Aid said you’ d be coming down here. I’m kinda like - the new nurse!”
Ratchet could hardly speak . “The new ….
“First Aid says it isn’t viable to operate a medical unit without support staff.” Groove said cheerfully, getting out another tray and putting the datapads in it. There’s me and Bumblebee going to take it in shifts. When we get some patients of course!” he laughed.
Ratchet stared at him “Would you mind telling me, “ he rasped, “where the rest of my berths are and where my equipment is?
Groove shrugged. “Sure,” he said. He jerked his thumb in the direction of the store room. “Next door was a waste of good space, so we’ve made it into a second ward and put the supplies down the corridor. First Aid thought it was crowded in here, see. As for the recuss gear – it's behind that curtain at the end there. First Aid doesn't think it's a good thing for patients to see it. Doesn't make them feel good.” He grinned, “He’s into all that – you know – feel good, get better quicker. You’d know what I mean.”
It was too much. Ratchet exploded. “No!” he thundered. ” I don’t have the first idea what you mean! And where is he?”
Groove looked a little surprised, but not unduly so.. “There was a bit of a scrap this morning,” he said. “Some Aerilabots got carried away. One of the Stunticons got bashed up a bit. First Aid’s just bringing him in.”
Ratchet’s optics glazed over. “You mean – there’s a - a - Decepticon coming into my medbay?” he said weakly.
Groove shrugged. “That’s the general idea!”
.........
Petulant was the word which came to mind. The small red and white Protectobot stood there, the petiteness of his frame more than compensated for by the determined stance, the hands on hips, his well structured, masked face and piercing blue optics a veritable advertisement for absolutely no nonsense.
“A patient is a patient, Ratchet! I have no intention of treating an injured Decepticon any differently from an Autobot or anybody else. I’m surprised you would even question it! Surely you must understand that’s ingrained within our ethical circuitry?”
Ratchet looked at the door to the second room which opened now to reveal Groove, carrying a tray of empty energon cubes. From within came laughter. “I’ll have another one of those!” Drag Strip yelled. “And hey - that pain in my groin’s coming back. I really think you oughtta get smexmedic bot to take a look!”
Ratchet darkened. But First Aid appeared completely unmoved. He nodded at Groove. “I’ll be with you in a moment,” he said.
“All right!” growled Ratchet. “I’ll accept that we have a duty to treat them, and I’m aware that Prime cleared Drag Strip being there on account of it being one of us made him get hurt. I can’t say I’m in full agreement, but there you are. Prime thinks it’s important for the cease fire so I guess I gotta accept it. But ….“ he glowered, “what I will not accept is that ... that ... pit bag in his own room getting waited on hand and foot!”
I mean …” he gestured around at the new arrangements, “what is this anyway? These - datapads! He picked one up. “Likes and dislikes, preferred energization. Holovisions. Crystals! What the hell is this?” he roared. “A patient is a patient. We tell them what’s good for them and they put up with whatever it takes to get them right. And if it's a cheeky - jerk - like that one in there who shouldn't even be here, we may well lay him out flat! This is a medbay! Not a freakin' hotel!”
First Aid frowned slightly during the tirade, but did not move. His optics glowed very bright. “I agree that doing our best for our patients may sometimes mean acting against their will. But is is well documented that recovery will be speedier if they are comfortable, and their individual needs met.”
Ratchet opened his mouth to speak, but First Aid went on: “And that means adequate space!” he gestured around. “This bay was far too crowded, and it smelt bad. And it was uncomfortable, and boring! Totally non-conducive to healing!” he frowned. “And surely, you must at least see that it’s not good for patients to view disturbing medical equipment or replacement parts!”
The older medic exploded again. “Oh really?" he roared. "Well have you any idea how may bots have come in here injured and how many I’ve successfully fixed in this cramped, smelly , inadequate holovisionless medbay? Without crystals and fancy smells. Having something only if I say they can have it? Have you any idea how many of them wouldn’t be walking around if I's 'indulged' them as opposed to making them do do what they were damned well told?”
First Aid said nothing. He simply continued to regard Ratchet with that tough, blue opticed stare which defied his apparent fragility. “I don’t doubt your abilities,” he said, finally. “Your reputation is unsurpassed. But my methods are as you see, Ratchet. And since I am now in charge here while you and the others have some R and R, I would appreciate it if you would respect them. I will think about ways we can better work together upon your return.”
Ratchet shook his head. “You don’t get it!” he growled. “They’ll run rings around you. And I’m not just talking about Decepticons. But since they're gonna be here too - especially Decepticons!”
On cue, the voice from the other room wailed: “Awww Doc - yer'd better not take too long ..."
"very well!" said First Aid. In neat movements, he crossed to the desk. Ratchet’s expression turned to curiosity as the Protectobot removed from the drawer in the desk a set of energon cuffs. “As I have said, personal comfort is invaluable to recovery," said the smaller medic, "But there is a time and place for curtailing it. As there is - I have also said - for acting against the patient's will." He smiled crisply. “I am quite capable of doing that should the need arise. And I can look after myself. “
At that moment, Groove reappeared, with no tray. "Cool - you found 'em!" he said, looking at the cuffs. First Aid nodded. “Now if you’ll excuse me?” he gave Ratchet a polite smile.
He walked deftly from the room with Groove in tow, all small toughness and a picture of effectiveness and efficiency, leaving Ratchet standing within the New Medbay,, his expression a mixture of disbelief, exasperation and astonishment.
Universe: G1
Rating: PG
Characters: Optimus Prime, Ratchet, First Aid, Groove
Warnings: mild sexual suggestiveness
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, or any of the characters or scenarios from the series within this story
Prompt: 12 June 2010 prompt: ‘Incompatibility’
Notes Set after season 2 around about the time Prime and Megatron agree on a ceasefire. Part of the Substitute verse and part of how the Protectobots had a fair share of issues of their own, including fitting in with the rest of the Autobots. Especially First Aid with Ratchet: I always see Ratchet as very ‘old school’ medically, whereas First aid was a bit more ‘holistic’ and New Agey’.
The Incompatible Medics
“No matter how many ways you put it, I just don’t get it, Prime!” said Ratchet unhappily. “Why do we need another medic?”
Prime looked as tired as Ratchet felt. He sighed, wearily. “Look - it’s not so much that we need another medic ,” he said wearily. “It’s just that having decided to bring the Protectobots down here – well, First Aid happens to be one of them.”
Ratchet grunted. “Yeah - well! You know my feelings about that, Prime! And I’m not the only one who’s ‘put out‘. Inferno ain’t happy. Neither’s Red Alert. And there’s talk – some reckon that young copter’s gonna be more trouble than he’s worth.”
“Agreed, young mechs are inclined to be impetuous,” Prime nodded.. “But if we’d allowed that to put us off, we wouldn’t have Bumblebee here would we? Now don’t you worry - I’m arranging for a mentor for the ‘copter. As for Red ...." Prime shook his head, “It’s the old thing about somebody taking his job again. Streetwise, this time. And, this time, he seems to have infected Inferno with the same delusion!”
“Yeah, well I can see his point!” Ratchet cut in. He sighed. “Look – I know Red can be twitchy, but this time – getting all of them in – it’s giving us the message we ain’t up to our jobs, Prime!”
Prime sighed heavily. He had known it would be like this. How to get his team to see that this was help for them. A break. A chance for some much needed R and R after nearly three years of solid fighting on a alien world. “Of course you’re up to your jobs,” he said quietly. “You’re the best. All of you! How could you even imagine I don’t think that? “
Ratchet looked down at the table. “Look !” said Prime, “see this as a chance to lighten the load, Ratch. Time for bonding and team building. I don’t know what Megatron’s up to but all this cease fire business, I don’t trust him one iota. I’m gonna need you all firing on all cylinders if he starts up again.”
”Besides, “he added, “Protectobots are gonna be working more with the humans. Free us up to get our force back in top notch order. Try and see it that way, Ratch. Trust me for once will you?”
“I’ll try,” muttered the medic.
........
The first thing Ratchet noticed as he drew near the medbay was the smell. It was a kind of sweet, soothing aroma; not unpleasant at all. In fact it made him feel rather relaxed and at ease. And at the same time extremely annoyed. Whose darn fool idea of a joke was this? If those twins had let off some kind of device ….
The doors to medbay hissed open and Ratchet stepped in to his well known stamping ground. Instantly he gawped. What …
What the hell has happened to my medbay?
Whereas before ten berths had filled the bland, functional room – making it a little crowded but with quite room enough to do what was necessary - now there were only six. And each berth had barriers around it, like he’d seen in some human hospitals. The barriers were painted in soft colors, and the berths had been resprayed to match. Beside each was a small table upon which sat an attractive crystal arrangement. The crystals glowed pleasantly. Above the berths pictures hung, deep space themes of the same soothing ilk as the crystals and the smell.
What the ….!!
There was more. Ratchet’s beloved resuscitation and emergency operating equipment, always primed for action in the center of the bay was nowhere in sight. Gone also were the xray machines , the replacement parts cabinet and the spare circuitry kit. In their place was a large wooden desk. On one end was another of the infernal crystal arrangements, this one evidently emanating the smell. Arranged next to it were a line of trays, each containing a neat pile of datapads.
Gaping, hardly able to take it all in, Ratchet picked one up. It had a list on it:
Name :
Faction :
Injury or condition :
Ratchet grunted. Obviously patient care charts. Not that he’d ever bothered with such things. If your neural circuitry wasn’t up to storing patient details, you didn’t deserve to be a medic. Fair enough though, he supposed. Some doctors liked them. Then his mouth fell open again, because the list went on:
Likes and dislikes :
Preferred energisation method :
Preferred wash routine and polish requirements :
Holovision choices : .
Ratchet’s optics almost boggled out of his head. Holovision choices? Raising his head, he saw to his horror that a holovision set had indeed been installed above each berth.
The end door opened and a slender brown and white mech emerged clutching more datapads. He beamed when he saw Ratchet.
“Hey!” he said. “The legendary cybersurgeon” he held out his hand. “Honoured to meet you properly at last, bro! I’m Groove – as you probably know. First Aid said you’ d be coming down here. I’m kinda like - the new nurse!”
Ratchet could hardly speak . “The new ….
“First Aid says it isn’t viable to operate a medical unit without support staff.” Groove said cheerfully, getting out another tray and putting the datapads in it. There’s me and Bumblebee going to take it in shifts. When we get some patients of course!” he laughed.
Ratchet stared at him “Would you mind telling me, “ he rasped, “where the rest of my berths are and where my equipment is?
Groove shrugged. “Sure,” he said. He jerked his thumb in the direction of the store room. “Next door was a waste of good space, so we’ve made it into a second ward and put the supplies down the corridor. First Aid thought it was crowded in here, see. As for the recuss gear – it's behind that curtain at the end there. First Aid doesn't think it's a good thing for patients to see it. Doesn't make them feel good.” He grinned, “He’s into all that – you know – feel good, get better quicker. You’d know what I mean.”
It was too much. Ratchet exploded. “No!” he thundered. ” I don’t have the first idea what you mean! And where is he?”
Groove looked a little surprised, but not unduly so.. “There was a bit of a scrap this morning,” he said. “Some Aerilabots got carried away. One of the Stunticons got bashed up a bit. First Aid’s just bringing him in.”
Ratchet’s optics glazed over. “You mean – there’s a - a - Decepticon coming into my medbay?” he said weakly.
Groove shrugged. “That’s the general idea!”
.........
Petulant was the word which came to mind. The small red and white Protectobot stood there, the petiteness of his frame more than compensated for by the determined stance, the hands on hips, his well structured, masked face and piercing blue optics a veritable advertisement for absolutely no nonsense.
“A patient is a patient, Ratchet! I have no intention of treating an injured Decepticon any differently from an Autobot or anybody else. I’m surprised you would even question it! Surely you must understand that’s ingrained within our ethical circuitry?”
Ratchet looked at the door to the second room which opened now to reveal Groove, carrying a tray of empty energon cubes. From within came laughter. “I’ll have another one of those!” Drag Strip yelled. “And hey - that pain in my groin’s coming back. I really think you oughtta get smexmedic bot to take a look!”
Ratchet darkened. But First Aid appeared completely unmoved. He nodded at Groove. “I’ll be with you in a moment,” he said.
“All right!” growled Ratchet. “I’ll accept that we have a duty to treat them, and I’m aware that Prime cleared Drag Strip being there on account of it being one of us made him get hurt. I can’t say I’m in full agreement, but there you are. Prime thinks it’s important for the cease fire so I guess I gotta accept it. But ….“ he glowered, “what I will not accept is that ... that ... pit bag in his own room getting waited on hand and foot!”
I mean …” he gestured around at the new arrangements, “what is this anyway? These - datapads! He picked one up. “Likes and dislikes, preferred energization. Holovisions. Crystals! What the hell is this?” he roared. “A patient is a patient. We tell them what’s good for them and they put up with whatever it takes to get them right. And if it's a cheeky - jerk - like that one in there who shouldn't even be here, we may well lay him out flat! This is a medbay! Not a freakin' hotel!”
First Aid frowned slightly during the tirade, but did not move. His optics glowed very bright. “I agree that doing our best for our patients may sometimes mean acting against their will. But is is well documented that recovery will be speedier if they are comfortable, and their individual needs met.”
Ratchet opened his mouth to speak, but First Aid went on: “And that means adequate space!” he gestured around. “This bay was far too crowded, and it smelt bad. And it was uncomfortable, and boring! Totally non-conducive to healing!” he frowned. “And surely, you must at least see that it’s not good for patients to view disturbing medical equipment or replacement parts!”
The older medic exploded again. “Oh really?" he roared. "Well have you any idea how may bots have come in here injured and how many I’ve successfully fixed in this cramped, smelly , inadequate holovisionless medbay? Without crystals and fancy smells. Having something only if I say they can have it? Have you any idea how many of them wouldn’t be walking around if I's 'indulged' them as opposed to making them do do what they were damned well told?”
First Aid said nothing. He simply continued to regard Ratchet with that tough, blue opticed stare which defied his apparent fragility. “I don’t doubt your abilities,” he said, finally. “Your reputation is unsurpassed. But my methods are as you see, Ratchet. And since I am now in charge here while you and the others have some R and R, I would appreciate it if you would respect them. I will think about ways we can better work together upon your return.”
Ratchet shook his head. “You don’t get it!” he growled. “They’ll run rings around you. And I’m not just talking about Decepticons. But since they're gonna be here too - especially Decepticons!”
On cue, the voice from the other room wailed: “Awww Doc - yer'd better not take too long ..."
"very well!" said First Aid. In neat movements, he crossed to the desk. Ratchet’s expression turned to curiosity as the Protectobot removed from the drawer in the desk a set of energon cuffs. “As I have said, personal comfort is invaluable to recovery," said the smaller medic, "But there is a time and place for curtailing it. As there is - I have also said - for acting against the patient's will." He smiled crisply. “I am quite capable of doing that should the need arise. And I can look after myself. “
At that moment, Groove reappeared, with no tray. "Cool - you found 'em!" he said, looking at the cuffs. First Aid nodded. “Now if you’ll excuse me?” he gave Ratchet a polite smile.
He walked deftly from the room with Groove in tow, all small toughness and a picture of effectiveness and efficiency, leaving Ratchet standing within the New Medbay,, his expression a mixture of disbelief, exasperation and astonishment.
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no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 10:14 am (UTC)I'm not usually a fan of grumpy!Ratchet in G1, but I can totally see what drove him to it here. Aromatherapy! IN HIS MEDBAY! NOOOOOOOO! :P
And shit, for someone with such empathy, First Aid doesn't appear to have taken Ratchet's feelings into consideration. I love how that works.
Nurse Groove is ADORABLE! And Drag Strip's totally going to end up diasppointed (I bet he learnt that come-on from Vortex :P).
♥
And there’s talk – some reckon that young copter’s gonna be more trouble than he’s worth.” Oh Ratchet, whatever gave you that impression ;)
no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 10:52 am (UTC)I think First Aid is empathetic - but he's also tough and takes no shit! And having been told he was taking over medbay for a spell he determined he would do it his way, and expected another qualified professional to respect his methods. He misjudged Ratchet's possessiveness and tetchiness LOL
I suspect that Ratchet's 'reaction' is far from over and that it's just one of a number of difficulties - not least of which is Blades wearing him down - which persuades First Aid that maybe he should leave after all ...
I can't see the aromatherapy going down that well in Hook's medbay either, mind XD.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 10:56 am (UTC)Yep, he should leave and have lots of sex with Vortex. *nods happily*
I can't see the aromatherapy going down that well in Hook's medbay either, mind XD. rofl!
no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 11:05 am (UTC)And if First Aid made Ratchet grumpy, then we ain't seen anything compared to Swindle on the scene XD
no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 11:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 11:12 am (UTC)"Likes stirring Ratchet up!* *Evil grin.*
no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 11:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 02:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 03:09 pm (UTC)Cuffs...*snickers*. Created way too may suggestive ideas in my head, especially paired with: “As I have said, personal comfort is invaluable to recovery," said the smaller medic, "But there is a time and place for curtailing it. As there is - I have also said - for acting against the patient's will."
*giggles*
no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 03:51 pm (UTC)I too did have considerable sympathy for Ratchet ! There'll be more in this continuity :-)
no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 04:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 11:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 05:20 pm (UTC)I love the way you write the interactions between the two medics ^.^ The conversation flowed smoothly, and I loved the small twist at the end =D and poor Groove, stuck in the middle of it >XD
**excited bounce** ^.^ Great story! <3
no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 11:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 11:51 pm (UTC)**waits patiently for more awesomesauce fic-age** =3
no subject
Date: 2011-01-25 09:05 pm (UTC)And, hee, stasis cuffs! Do not mess with First Aid. :D
no subject
Date: 2011-01-25 10:05 pm (UTC)I figure First Aid is a forthright little mech, confident, and determined to uphold his principles - in a totally professional way. XD
*Was bound to lock horns with Ratchet.* But he's been around, and is tough - he can handle it, LOL.
And nobody was gonna run rings around him - even if he was very cute!
no subject
Date: 2011-01-29 12:13 am (UTC)Hope to see more ^_^
no subject
Date: 2011-01-29 07:22 am (UTC)Sequel to this is here !!