A Small Dose of Ratchet Fever - A Transformers Bayverse Fanfiction

Chapter 6

The days stayed long, the sleep I got each night got lessened. It wasn't the worst thing that could have happened. It was enough to consider me sleep deprived, but it didn't affect my work as much as it could have.

I looked up at Ratchet as the time ticked by. Holding back a cough, I looked back at my data pad for the time. It was eight at night. My shifts were not suppose to be over ten hours, and so far, I was clocking twelve. The goal for today was to make it to fifteen until he notices.

He's usually so far into his work, he doesn't notice anything, even if it hits him. Barely any mecha come in to get checkups, unless it's Monday, or if they had sparing recently and need to patch anything up. Only the major injuries get patched up; nobody lets slip that anything happened if it is less than fatal.

My chest felt tighter than usual, but I ignored it. I would have to remember to use my compression vest.

The time continued to tick by, though there was no actual clock to where I could hear the ticking. It was all inside my head. My chest felt tighter, and I had to continue to hold back coughs. It was eleven thirty.

Using my vest later would be a must now, not even an option.

I knew that sitting near those ill soldiers during my lunch break had been a terrible idea. Absolutely terrible idea.

Ratchet finally looked over at me. "What are you doing?"

"Working," I answered him easily, tapping at the data pad.

He made a small sound, something between a grunt and a hum. "Why are you still here so late? It's well past your finishing hour."

"Fifteen hours clocked." I logged out of my data pad and smiled up at the large metal being. "And a half, though I won't count that. I used that for my lunch."

"What did you use for your dinner break? Surely, you had one."

"Not really, sir. I skipped dinner."

He raised an optic ridge. "Oh?"

I shrugged. "Not very hungry. If there's nothing else for me to do, I'll go ahead and leave." My throat was so clogged up with mucus, I had to cough. It wasn't even an option anymore. But it wasn't just a cough.

It was as if I was ejecting my lungs out of my esophagus.

Without even looking at him, I could imagine the frown on Ratchet's faceplate. A cool metal digit rubbed my back gingerly. "Are you alright?"

I nodded, feeling my face heat up with the lack of air, then it quickly cooled down. I pounded on my chest with my fist. "I'm fine..."

"Do not lie."

Looking up at him again, I forced my coughs back to speak. "I. Am. Fine. Goodnight, Ratchet." I packed up my things quickly and left.

His serum hadn't worked.