Random writings
1 June 2020 12:43![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wyntir_knightI'm trying to get back to writing daily. Actual writing, not just a bunch of random words strung together to meet my self-imposed deadline. I'll post them up here. Most of them. We'll see.
This is a scene set for late in "You Remind Me of Someone I Used to Know", when Cortano finally comes clean to Ratchet about who he really is.
---
Smokescreen entered the medbay feeling uncharacteristically nervous. He shouldn't be. It wasn't like he was a stranger to Ratchet. But he had been lying to him for vorn now. Longer, in fact. He had allowed Ratchet to believe him dead. He had wandered around the base, pretending to be someone else entirely and had done everything he could to make Ratchet dislike him. Okay, so that last one had been because of Jazz, but that didn't change the fact that he had gone through with the ruse.
And now here he was, painted back in his old burgundy and blue, the old numbers back on his door, his chevron back to gold. Standing at the threshold of Ratchet's domain hoping that the medic would .... hoping that he'd what? Forgive him? Accept his reasons? Take him back into his life? Smokescreen wasn't sure what he was hoping for and that was very much unlike him. No matter what, he always had the angles mapped out. He always had a plan. And a backup plan. And another one to fall back on in case all the others failed. He prided himself on never being caught flat footed, never being blind sided. And yet here and now, as he stood in the door of the medical bay, he had no idea what he was going to do other than walk in and speak with Ratchet,
"Hey there, Doc-bot," he said. His voiced was far too soft, far too unsure.
"What do you want, Cortano," Ratchet asked as he turned away from his desk and immediately froze as he saw his visitor.
"Surprise," Smokescreen said, and the word sounded lame in his audials.
Ratchet was out of his chair in an instant, and moving with far more speed than a mech his size had any right to, he strode up to Smokescreen and immediately punched him square in the face, sending the Praxian to the plating in a heap.
"Yeah, I guess I deserved that," Smokescreen murmured
"How dare you?!" Ratchet demanded, looming over Smokescreen, his field spoke of nothing but rage and pain. "How dare you come in here after everything that you've done painted like him?! What? You haven't hurt me enough?"
Smokescreen's optics widened and he fought the urge to scramble away from the enraged medic.
"I'm sorry, Ratch, I did what I thought was right at the time, and this isn't some prank," he whispered. "It really is me. Smokescreen."
"Is this some kind of joke to you?" Ratchet demanded.
"No! I- ... Ratchet, we met on the 27th day of the fifth lunar cycle. I was part of a surprise present and you tried to gift me the contents. When you found out you couldn't you agreed to take me to the Starlines for dinner and then we attended a concert by Blaster. That night you tried to fight for my honour when your neighbour called me-"
"... rootkit. He called you rootkit," Ratchet whispered. He had never told anyone about the specifics of that night, especially not of the conversation he and Smokescreen had had after his neighbour had been so needlessly cruel.
"Smokescreen?" he asked as he helped the Praxian to his feet. "It's really you?"
"Yeah," Smokescreen said with a slightly lopsided smile. "Sorry it took so long to-"
Smokescreen never finished his apology. Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Ratchet had punched him again, and again he was laid out flat on the floor.
"Come on!" he cried as he held his now bent nasal ridge. "I mean, I get the first one, but what the smelter, Ratchet?"
"How dare you," Ratchet whispered, white hot anger filling every word even as he yanked Smokescreen to his feet and began to examine the damage - making no attempt to be gentle. "You let me think you were dead! You let me believe that you'd been vaporized in that explosion! If you wanted to end things you just needed to say so. You didn't need to pull this- this ... I don't even know what the frag this was!"
Smokescreen immediately pulled away, bristling. "You think I wanted to do that? You think I wanted to just leave without any warning whatsoever? I was holding you back and it would've just been a matter of time before you started losing promotions because I was with you. The world was changing, Ratchet, and I wasn't going to be the reason you spent the rest of your life in a clinic in the Dead End!"
"That wasn't your choice to make!" Ratchet all but roared.
And they were now attracting an audience. The rest of the medical staff was beginning to gather, and Smokescreen was certain that Security would be coming next. He really should have had a plan in place before he'd come into the medbay.
"Ratch, lower your voice, we're attracting an audience."
"I will not lower my voice! You made a decision that effected both of us! You never even spoke to me about your worries. Had you bothered asking instead of assuming you'd've found out that I was perfectly willing, perfectly happy to stay in the Dead End with you!"
"And you would have been offlined, Ratchet," Smokescreen replied, trying to remain calm as pain bloomed in his spark. "Even if the Decepticons hadn't risen and tried to execute every medical capable mech who didn't join them, there is no way that the Council would have let you keep working there! And if you'd refused to leave - and you would have - they would have made you leave and then they wouldn't have let you chart your own path."
"It. Wasn't. Your. Choice," Ratchet growled. "Now get out of my med bay."
This is a scene set for late in "You Remind Me of Someone I Used to Know", when Cortano finally comes clean to Ratchet about who he really is.
---
Smokescreen entered the medbay feeling uncharacteristically nervous. He shouldn't be. It wasn't like he was a stranger to Ratchet. But he had been lying to him for vorn now. Longer, in fact. He had allowed Ratchet to believe him dead. He had wandered around the base, pretending to be someone else entirely and had done everything he could to make Ratchet dislike him. Okay, so that last one had been because of Jazz, but that didn't change the fact that he had gone through with the ruse.
And now here he was, painted back in his old burgundy and blue, the old numbers back on his door, his chevron back to gold. Standing at the threshold of Ratchet's domain hoping that the medic would .... hoping that he'd what? Forgive him? Accept his reasons? Take him back into his life? Smokescreen wasn't sure what he was hoping for and that was very much unlike him. No matter what, he always had the angles mapped out. He always had a plan. And a backup plan. And another one to fall back on in case all the others failed. He prided himself on never being caught flat footed, never being blind sided. And yet here and now, as he stood in the door of the medical bay, he had no idea what he was going to do other than walk in and speak with Ratchet,
"Hey there, Doc-bot," he said. His voiced was far too soft, far too unsure.
"What do you want, Cortano," Ratchet asked as he turned away from his desk and immediately froze as he saw his visitor.
"Surprise," Smokescreen said, and the word sounded lame in his audials.
Ratchet was out of his chair in an instant, and moving with far more speed than a mech his size had any right to, he strode up to Smokescreen and immediately punched him square in the face, sending the Praxian to the plating in a heap.
"Yeah, I guess I deserved that," Smokescreen murmured
"How dare you?!" Ratchet demanded, looming over Smokescreen, his field spoke of nothing but rage and pain. "How dare you come in here after everything that you've done painted like him?! What? You haven't hurt me enough?"
Smokescreen's optics widened and he fought the urge to scramble away from the enraged medic.
"I'm sorry, Ratch, I did what I thought was right at the time, and this isn't some prank," he whispered. "It really is me. Smokescreen."
"Is this some kind of joke to you?" Ratchet demanded.
"No! I- ... Ratchet, we met on the 27th day of the fifth lunar cycle. I was part of a surprise present and you tried to gift me the contents. When you found out you couldn't you agreed to take me to the Starlines for dinner and then we attended a concert by Blaster. That night you tried to fight for my honour when your neighbour called me-"
"... rootkit. He called you rootkit," Ratchet whispered. He had never told anyone about the specifics of that night, especially not of the conversation he and Smokescreen had had after his neighbour had been so needlessly cruel.
"Smokescreen?" he asked as he helped the Praxian to his feet. "It's really you?"
"Yeah," Smokescreen said with a slightly lopsided smile. "Sorry it took so long to-"
Smokescreen never finished his apology. Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Ratchet had punched him again, and again he was laid out flat on the floor.
"Come on!" he cried as he held his now bent nasal ridge. "I mean, I get the first one, but what the smelter, Ratchet?"
"How dare you," Ratchet whispered, white hot anger filling every word even as he yanked Smokescreen to his feet and began to examine the damage - making no attempt to be gentle. "You let me think you were dead! You let me believe that you'd been vaporized in that explosion! If you wanted to end things you just needed to say so. You didn't need to pull this- this ... I don't even know what the frag this was!"
Smokescreen immediately pulled away, bristling. "You think I wanted to do that? You think I wanted to just leave without any warning whatsoever? I was holding you back and it would've just been a matter of time before you started losing promotions because I was with you. The world was changing, Ratchet, and I wasn't going to be the reason you spent the rest of your life in a clinic in the Dead End!"
"That wasn't your choice to make!" Ratchet all but roared.
And they were now attracting an audience. The rest of the medical staff was beginning to gather, and Smokescreen was certain that Security would be coming next. He really should have had a plan in place before he'd come into the medbay.
"Ratch, lower your voice, we're attracting an audience."
"I will not lower my voice! You made a decision that effected both of us! You never even spoke to me about your worries. Had you bothered asking instead of assuming you'd've found out that I was perfectly willing, perfectly happy to stay in the Dead End with you!"
"And you would have been offlined, Ratchet," Smokescreen replied, trying to remain calm as pain bloomed in his spark. "Even if the Decepticons hadn't risen and tried to execute every medical capable mech who didn't join them, there is no way that the Council would have let you keep working there! And if you'd refused to leave - and you would have - they would have made you leave and then they wouldn't have let you chart your own path."
"It. Wasn't. Your. Choice," Ratchet growled. "Now get out of my med bay."