thisavrou_log | it's just the way it changes

it's just the way it changes | closed

Who: Ratchet and Soundwave
When: Shortly after this thread.
Where: The medbay.
What: Ratchet has some bad news.
Warnings: Discussions of character death.

Ratchet stands a long time in the medbay after Ultra Magnus and Riptide have left, watching the little box on one of the tables and wishing he could clench his fists, before he keys on his MID and calls Soundwave.

"I need you to come to medical, please," he says, his voice grave but steady. "It's not for your check-up. I need to speak with you in person."

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Well, this was an unexpected call. Even if it wasn't for his check-up, he had expected that Ratchet would be busy with whatever he had closed the medbay with. Not to mention Ratchet didn't exactly sound thrilled. "Very well, I will be there shortly."

Soundwave made his way to the medbay, hovering outside of the door for just a moment. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something felt... wrong. Like something was crawling under the plates on his body. He vented, pushing the feeling out of his mind, before walking into the room.

"Ratchet -"

Well. He was going to say something, but then his optics fell on the claws attached to the medic's wrists. That would... certainly explain the need to close the medbay.

"Soundwave."

Ratchet can feel that stare, searing against the fresh welds at his wrists, and he swallows against the temptation to explain instead of getting to their actual business. His hands, or lack thereof, are not his most pressing concern just now.

"Riptide... received something extremely distressing in the mail from home. It's--" He falters a little, the words sticking in his throat. He knows he has to say them, and he knew it would be difficult when he offered, but the genuine pain flaring sharp and high in his chassis surprises him anyway. He takes a steadying vent of cool air.

"It's Ravage. Soundwave, I'm sorry, he's dead."

He wouldn't have minded an explanation. All things considered, he thought that was perhaps why Ratchet called him. Not that he could think of why the Autobot would single him of all Cybertronians out, but stranger things had happened.

So when Ratchet started talking about something Riptide got in the mail, he was somewhat confused. He knew the mail here had a tendency to send people rather... unkind things, but he failed to see what it had to do with him. Until Ratchet was suddenly talking about -

"... What?"

Ravage was what? He couldn't even begin to process what Ratchet had just said. So he didn't really have much of a reaction apart from staring at Ratchet in disbelief.

Ratchet struggles to keep his expression even, the complete incomprehension in Soundwave's voice sliding up under his breastplate like a knife.

"I believe Ravage is dead. I don't think he could have survived the injuries he sustained, especially considering the situation we're all apparently in. Magnus and Drift are the most up-to-date but--" He stops, his desire to be as gentle as possible warring with the fact that he knows prevaricating won't make this easier on anyone, Soundwave most of all.

"As far as I know, no one remembers what happened to him yet. But I think--it's my professional opinion, from all the information we have--that he's gone. I wouldn't be telling you if I wasn't reasonably sure. I'm sorry."

He struggled to pay attention to what Ratchet was saying against the grief that was clawing at his internals, making him want to purge everything that was in his tanks. The situation they were in? Magnus had said... Right... It was the DJD and Deathsaurus that had attacked the Autobots. That was what Magnus had said they were facing when he first arrived.

While he didn't disbelieve Ratchet - he doubted the medic would joke about something so serious, and he could feel the pain that he was trying to hide - but it was hard to accept. Or Soundwave didn't want to accept it. Because Ravage had always been fine. They got through four million years of war together. He couldn't be dead. Ravage was his friend. One of his few and most precious friends.

"What... What did Riptide receive...?"

Ratchet's mouth presses into a thin line, but he bows his head.

"It's... part of him. It's not the first time one of has received something like that in the mail, either." He swallows and steps forward, hesitating only briefly before he reaches out, the tips of his claws brushing Soundwave's shoulder. "I wouldn't--I won't ask you to look. But if you need to see, it's here. I know this is difficult to accept."

The sick feeling he had before was almost nothing compared to how ill the words 'part of him' made him feel. Soundwave's hands curled into fists to keep his fingers from trembling as he pulled away from Ratchet's touch. He couldn't - he couldn't handle feeling more of Ratchet's emotions on top of his own. He could at least try and pull back some of his crumbling focus away from the Autobot in the room if he wasn't touching him.

Soundwave can't bring himself to reply as his optics fall on the box behind Ratchet. Most of his body felt numb as he forced his legs to carry him over to the slab, gingerly pushing the top off the crate.

Ravage. His friend. Or what was left of him.

His hands fall to grip the edge of the medical berth, unable to stop himself from shaking as he slowly doubled over himself.

Ravage was... Ravage had saved him. He had said he was a good person, someone who was worth something, when everyone else was content to let him waste away in a gutter. Ravage was the only one who ever thought to help him.

And now he was gone.

Ratchet follows Soundwave over to the slab and stands next to him, carefully not looking into the crate. He doesn't try to touch Soundwave again, venting shakily and trying to push down the strange grief twisting high in his chassis.

"This is how we found him. We--Ultra Magnus and I--wanted to disturb him as little as possible until we could consult with you. Whatever you find suitable to do with his remains, we'll help you, if you're willing." He stops for a moment and just cycles his vents, aching but unwilling to flinch away.

"If things did happen as I--as I could gather, from what we found, it means that I was there when he was brought in. ...it means I couldn't save him. I'm sorry."

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