Tinman

Impatient to be Home

Three weeks later at the Autobot base...

"All right, Ironhide. Hold up that hand for me." Ratchet commanded.

The black mech raised his hand off the berth.

"Good. Good. Bend it to a forty five degree angle."

Ironhide bent it with a small whine in his servos.

"Now rotate it all the way around."

Unnaturally, the limb spun in a full circle but stopped just short. Ironhide grimaced and seemed to strain, willing it to complete the motion. With a horrible grinding sound it finally finished the motion.

The medic noted the discrepancy, "Ok. Now see if you can transform it."

Ironhide clenched his metal jaw a moment and very slowly his hand folded together, pulling down into his wrist. The limb began to fold more but suddenly seized up, unwilling to move any farther. Defeated by the pain, Ironhide dropped his hand allowing it to relax back into its original form.

Ratchet nodded, "Not bad Ironhide, not bad. Your motion has gotten better by at least 12 since yesterday."

The black weapons specialist grunted sourly, "Still not good enough."

"Well these parts take time to heal. You remember how long it took you to adjust to your new leg when it got blown off?" Ratchet reminded him.

Ironhide nodded staring at his healing arm, "When can I get my cannons back?"

The medic laughed, "Getting ahead of yourself aren't you?"

"No. I just feel...strange without them."

"Don't worry. I've got them stored away in a safe place." Ratchet smirked, giving Ironhide a sarcastic pat on the forehead, "If you're real good, you'll get them back the day I release you."

Ironhide swatted the medic's hand away with a growl.

"All right. Let's see about that leg." Ratchet said, pressing the button to make Ironhide's berth perpendicular to the floor so he could stand.

The weapons specialist's leg was the worst part. Being comprised of so many pieces, it was a far more complicated limb to have broken. Not to mention it bore several tons of metal and eventually had to transform into a truck bed, a tail gate, the back tires, and the back undercarriage.

"Ok. Start out on your good leg and gently put down the other. See if you can bear any weight." Ratchet instructed, taking a few steps back.

Ironhide stared at his legs cautiously and first put down his right leg with no problem. Then the damaged left. His toes splayed out gingerly, trying to test how much pressure the tender struts could withstand. It stung his circuits but he set his jaw and divided the weight between the two legs. He stared over at Ratchet, desperately trying to hide the pain his leg was causing him.

"Take a step."

Ironhide slowly lifted his injured leg and swung it forward. He seemed a bit hopeful, until he tried lifting his right leg, putting all of his weight on the injured leg. There was a terrible shudder in his leg struts accompanied by a plaintive squeal of strained hydraulics. Ironhide roared in pain, falling back against the vertical berth for support, while Ratchet leaned in to help him.

Proudly, Ironhide shoved the medic away with a snarl, "Don't help me! I can do it."

Ratchet backed off, shaking his head, "It's too soon yet Ironhide. You'll blow a hydraulic line, or worse rebreak those struts if you don't take it easy." he warned.