In These Hands

Don't Change

"You got a virus?"

"No."

"Suffer from rust or corrosion?"

"No, I don't."

"Got faulty joints or malfunctioning circuitry?"

"Last I checked, no."

Ratchet sounded a sigh. There was a look of warning in his optics. "Then how many times do I have to tell you to leave? This place is for the injured and ailing. You're neither of those."

"Don't be like that, Ratchet." Barricade wasn't the first gladiator that's frequented the clinic looking quite complacent and well-functioning. "You know why I'm here."

Ratchet nodded, maneuvering around standing, leaning, and laying patients. He was at the counter, pulling out a mixture of vials and began extracting measured amounts from each. "Of course I do, which is why I want you to leave. You've got your own life to take care of. It's a waste of time; you being here." Pouring the mixture into a small canister, the doctor then maneuvered back and handed the container to a 'bot. "Take this right away, the backup should dissolve in about three cycles, if it doesn't come back and see me." Ratchet then turned his optics toward the dark mech again. "Why are you still here?"

"Because Megatron asked me to," Barricade answered.

"Fine, and now I'm asking you to leave." Ratchet knelt down, looking at the sparking cables of a patient's pelvic junction. Sinking his fingers into the wiring, his optics watched the 'bot for reactions. "Can you feel anything in this vicinity, sir?"

The 'bot looked uncomfortable, but worried most of all. "Hardly, doctor. And they've been like this for over a deca-cycle."

Ratchet hummed in thought, nodding. "Yeah? Well, I wish you would have come here sooner."

As soon as Ratchet reached into his subspace inventory and pulled out needle tweezers, Barricade spoke up again. "I'm doing this because I want to too, Ratchet." The medibot set to his work, offering no signs that he was still listening, but that didn't stop Barricade from continuing. "I care about you, doc, a lot of the mechs do back in the pits. It's really no trouble at all for us to come by and make sure everything's alright."

"Well it's trouble for me." Ratchet finally pulled out some dead wiring from his patient's joint. "I can't have my problems become your problems because, suddenly, that's another problem for me." Ratchet huffed, tugging out a roll of new cables and began cutting off the proper amounts needed.

"Come now, Ratchet, that isn't fair." Barricade proceeded to motion toward the scores of 'bots jammed into the clinic, patients waiting patiently to be seen and repaired. "There's no need for you to do all of this, yet you do. Why? Because you want to help them. The same goes for me, and the others. Just as you get to freely do what you want with your skills, so can I. Like it or not, you're going to be seeing this ugly mug around often."

Barricade made no tall tales about that statement. As often as Ratchet saw him patrolling the perimeter of the clinic, and the occasional poke-in's, he also saw the likes of Lugnut, Blackout, and on a few occurrences he's spotted Overlord within the vicinity. Their presence certainly stirred an uneasiness in many of his patients, but it did keep the more ruffian percentage out of his doors.

It's not that he didn't mind their help, it was just becoming overbearing for Ratchet. He liked to close the clinic around the fourth quarter so he could be there after Megatron's matches for possible pending repairs, but his drive there was often met with an awaiting escort. He couldn't even take a break from the amped security while he went to the market to stock inventory. It didn't take long before their insistence pushed Ratchet to order delivery from the clinic.