In These Hands

A Predestined End

Pharma just wanted to go home. Already cycles past his original shift, he'd fallen behind on three patients' prognosis reports and in the middle of it all took Ambulon's shift so he could off to a familial emergency. The fragger probably didn't even have close family, and yet there Pharma was, stuck until the janitorial 'bots crept out of the dark recess of the facility's closets. What a day.

He should be locking his office and walking out those front doors, instead Pharma was trudging toward the monitor room to take one last view of internal pixels and file them into their respective folders. He honestly hadn't expected to find anyone inside the department when he entered, but the familiar sound of a spark fluctuating alerted him to the occupant still present.

Bright optics turned to a fellow medibot, and not just any colleague, a dear, dear friend, one Pharma hadn't gotten the chance to actually see in the metal for more than he'd like to recollect.

"Ratchet?" The moment Pharma took a closer step, the name falling past his lip plates, the other started, twisting to look at him with just as bright optical lights. Pharma hadn't seen the medic move so fast, but as soon as he noticed him he pulled the transducer away from the crevices of his chassis plating and struggled to slip the device back into its casing.

However, Pharma had seen, or more importantly, heard everything.

Startled optics turned toward the monitors, especially the one Ratchet was situated closest to. Moving to view it properly was a challenge given that Ratchet was purposely standing in his way. But that didn't matter, Pharma wasn't as ignorant as others like to take him for.

"Ratchet, was that . . .?" Optics zoned, mostly on Ratchet. "Are you sparked?"

Within the next klik Ratchet had dropped the transducer he'd been holding behind his frame, and his frame hunched over, trembling. Hands rose to cover his mouth to further hide the sobs tumbling out of his intake. Pharma started at the reaction and instantly he pushed closer, hands coming on his friend whilst his field reached out to encase them in secure comfort.

"Hey, hey, it's fine. I'm not going to say anything against you." Pharma then realized how long it's actually been since he's had the opportunity to hold Ratchet, and now with him shaking, pressed against him, it made the aerial cling tight, damning all pending projects he'd originally come into the department for.

With Ratchet's reaction and his current distraught so pungent in his field, Pharma can't honestly say he's seen this sort of reception over the news of a carry often. With a descending frown, Pharma pulled back only to look down at his friend, his hands still cradling, still clinging.

"Is it the Senator's?" Ratchet didn't say anything, but Pharma felt the way Ratchet's frame stuttered, and the presence of tension seeping out into his field was answer enough. "Does he know?"

There was no further answer. Instead, Ratchet slowly moved himself away from Pharma's hold. He turned, rubbing his face plate. "What am I going to do?"

The regret and fright that Pharma heard in Ratchet's pitches hit him in the very spark chamber. So he pressed closer again, his hand tugging Ratchet's shoulder to turn him back to him. "I'm here for you with whatever you want to do. Even if you wanted to termina—"

"No, I can't!" Ratchet's optics stuttered briefly, the shake of his helm was enough to even shake Pharma off. "I can't. He'll . . . he'll . . ."

"It's fine, I understand." Pharma held his hands up in surrender. He wasn't going to push, not just yet. Instead he glanced over toward the monitor and examined it. By the looks of it, Ratchet hadn't finished the proper scan. So, pulling out a forced smile, Pharma took his hands and guided him over to take a seat on the nearby table. "Why don't we finish the scan, hm?"