re_alignment_logs | Searching for Peace of Mind

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.

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Wing greets the medic warmly, looking earnestly up into his blue optics and while he grasps his hand in a gentle but firm way that characterizes strength not called upon.

"Well met, Ratchet. I trust the day is treating you well thus far?"

Firm grip, no sign of tremor, digits straight and grasping with the same amount of strength ...

"It's been a day." Ratchet shrugs, unwilling to call a day 'good' unless something particularly pleasant has happened. "I've been making progress getting everyone's health checked, but there's always something. You know how it is. Anyway, it's not myself that we're worried about here. How are you doing? Is there anything I should focus on when I scan you?"

Ratchet was attentive to be sure. A sign of a good medic. One that also apparently get's right to the point.

"Ah--specific?" He's a bit unprepared. Which is a touch silly since he arranged this whole thing. But he wasn't quite expecting the 'let's get down to business' type attitude. Clearly, he doesn't know Ratchet that well.

He recovers, though the hesitation is still obvious. "I was in a battle directly before being...pulled to this place. The damage I'd taken seems to have been healed but I'd like to know for certain."

How do you dos are for casual conversations, not medical appointments. There's a line between Ratchet's "professional" and his "personal" attitudes, and while it's been blurred through the course of the war, he tries his best to maintain what's left of it however possible.

"A battle?" Ratchet frowns, because he hadn't seen any signs of battle damage on Wing, which implies something internal. "What kind of damage did you sustain, and where?"

One hand settles on his hip as he holds the other out, transforming it quickly into a medical scanner.

"Don't be shy about telling me things. As a medic, I can scan you for injuries, but the information I get from you is just as, if not more, important than what I get from my tools."

Well that answered that. If Wing was really going to have true peace of mind, he'd have to tell all.

"Yes a battle, back in my home universe, with an alien race. Most of the damage was superficial, typical damage from a mixed melee and energy weapon fight. Generally I'm pretty good at avoiding damage." A smile, genuine because it's true, usually he's quite good at keeping himself alive. With one exception.

"Ahh, except..." Wing looks away for a moment and shutters his amber optics. He realizes suddenly he has yet to actually tell anyone directly. And telling it feels like reliving it. He cycles a deep ventilation and is mindful to keep his hands at his sides, the pinions flanking his nacelles slicked down in discomfort. "I drew the attention of their leader. His tactics I was not prepared for. He...eventually broke my defense and stabbed me in the chassis." His hand comes up anyway, but he makes it an indicator, tapping the white and read panels there.

"I'm--uhh...pretty sure I...felt it pierce my spark chamber." A visible shudder, his wing panels shifting in distress.

Ratchet follows Wing's story with a calm, steady demeanour right up until the moment when he mentions damage to his spark chamber. At that point, the medic's eyes widen and he straightens.

"Yes, that is definitely something I like to hear about, rather than find out by accident."

He changes the frequency of the scanner to increase resolution in exchange for a decreased range. He only needs to scan a small area, after all.

"Before I check that, how did the, ah, piercing damage get healed? The FirstForged?"

If it was them, he'll worry a bit less. He's got an inexplicably high amount of faith in their abilities.

Wing does his best to stand casually still while Ratchet does his scans. The medic's reaction understandably didn't do much to comfort him, save the knowledge that he made the right choice in revealing the information upfront.

"That's just it, I don't know how it got healed. I just remember the attack, the moment it happened, terrible pain, fear and an overwhelming certainty, then...chaos? Being pulled or falling? Too much sensory input to even really sort out properly." He shutters his optics again and rubs his brow ridge with the palm of his hand, as if even attempting to sort out the data was painful. "When I woke up in the Junk pile I was like this. My sensor array was jumbled, miscalibrated, and my chrono reset, but the physical damage seemed to be repaired."

"I...just don't understand how or why."

"Hmm, that sounds like you got pulled here just as the damage was done. The journey through the Lambda must have healed you somehow..."

The thought of the Lambda having healing properties is a strange one to Ratchet, but then, it's not like anyone knows much of anything about it. It's a possibility.

"Although not ... completely."

He turns his arm so that Wing can see the display on his scanner.

"There's nothing life-threatening, but see this?"

The image zooms in on the little drawing of Wing's chest, and Ratchet taps on a soft shadow that seems to hang over it.

"That's minor scarring on the surface of your spark chamber. Now, scarring is the body's normal response to damage, but any sort of injury to the spark chamber is usually extremely damaging, if not lethal, so I've never seen anything like this before. It's... actually quite novel."

Wing has no more than a shrug to offer. "That was my best guess. For lack of any other obvious option..." It's oddly comforting to know he's not the only one coming to that conclusion regardless, though that's where the comfort ends.

His browridge jumps and his pinions flatten as Ratchet gives him the next bit of news. Almost reluctantly Wing leans over to look at the scanner, feeling a bit silly for it, and wordlessly stares for an overly long time at the shadowy smudge within his chest.

The jet draws back finally, nodding slowly as Ratchet continues to speak. So, there was irrefutable physical proof. Not that he was trying to deny it...or perhaps part of him was. The last of Ratchet's words snap him back to reality.

"Novel?" Wing asks softly, "I...suppose it would be." He seems to collect himself, cycling a vent. "Is it anything to be concerned about?"

"Mm, have you been feeling any pain? Numbness? Moments of weakness?"

The scanner is closed, and Ratchet steps back, trying to judge from Wing's answers if he's hiding anything from him. It's a lesson he learned the hard way: sometimes warriors cover up for little problems to pretend that they're healthy when they're not. Denial is an unfortunate, powerful beast.

Wing's optics slide to the side as he considers.

"I--Sometimes..." He cycles a rough vent, trying to articulate something he's not entirely sure he wants to grasp period. "Sometimes after bad memory purges, or flashbacks. They...can be intense? I feel it. I don't know what it means. I think...it's phantom pain?"

"I just...don't even know if it's real or not." He shakes his head and bows it with an unmistakable touch of shame.

Searching for Peace of Mind

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Oh hai, there's that icon I meant to use earlier...

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