WHO: Ratchet and Wing
WHERE: Ratchet's medbay, Solus's Temple
WHEN: A week ago, two days before the Second Wave
WHAT: Well it was supposed to be a simple medical exam...
WARNINGS: Likely talk of canon character death, possibly others TBD.

The rolling mounds of the Junk Pile slipped beneath his snow white belly as he jetted through Haven's sky, his approach vector angled towards Solus's temple where he knew Ratchet to be waiting.

Wing was oddly nervous. He knew he had no reason to be, his internal diagnostics showed no damage or unusual anomalies. By all reports he was in perfect health with no trace of Braid's killing blow remaining. But that didn't stop the memory purges at night. Or the way he'd instinctively clutch at the armor over his spark chamber when thoughts of the attack crossed his processor. Sometimes, when the memory purges were the worst, he thought he could feel real tightness and pain, something beyond the echo of memory.

He knew only time healed some wounds but whatever he could do to help it along, he would. And thus he hoped a full exam by an experienced medic would help ease his mind.

Wing slowed as he reached the temple, and with a graceful flip he left his altmode and the air in a single motion. He made his way through the temple following Ratchet's instructions, temporarily forgetting his trepidation as he gazed curiously at the new surroundings. He found the right room, judging by the red and white mech within, and nodded a cordial greeting.