Irreparable 07_TF Movie Fic

Irreparable

“Ironhide has an irregular spark rhythm.  Occasionally, he has “spells”, if you would, where his spark pulse flutters and these incidents will usually land him in the med bay for an extended period of time.”

“Like now?” Sam asked, worriedly.  Ironhide had, in essence, passed out earlier that day.  He’d not been doing anything really, just walking, when he’d found himself on his faceplate.  Ratchet had brought him here, to the make-shift medical facility inside the hanger, immediately.  

“Yes, like now.” came the tired answer.

“But…you can fix him up, right?” the human inquired.  He looked over at the now recharging mech.  Ironhide was attached to dozens of machines, many familiar to Sam but most looked like nothing he’d ever seen before.

“No, Sam.  I can’t.”

“What…what do you mean ‘you can’t’?”

Ratchet seemed to hesitate, as if he was trying to figure out what exactly he wanted to say.  

“It‘s going to terminate him.” he said, voice soft.

Sam stilled, eyes wide.  He looked from the mech on the berth to the one responsible for said mech‘s well-being before he replied.

“But there’s gotta be -something- you can do!  Ratch, seriously!  This isn’t funny…”

“I’m not joking.  I wouldn’t try to draw any humor from this situation.” Ratchet answered, taken aback.

“Then -do- something!” the human cried, frustration evident in his voice.  This was the first he’d ever heard about any of the mech’s having any sort of irreparable problem and it obviously bothered him.

“There’s nothing for me to do. I -” the medic tried to explain.  However, Sam wasn’t hearing it and cut him off before he could offer any further information.

“So you’re just gunna let him die!?”

Sam regretted his words before they ever left his throat.  Ratchet drew himself back as if the human had just slapped him across his face.  His optics blazed for a few seconds before going nearly dark.

“Ratch, I…I’m-” he started, however, Ratchet cut him off in a much quieter tone than he, himself, had used earlier.

“It is not a matter of letting anything happen…it’s a matter of not having a choice.”

Sam shifted from foot to foot for several moments, face scrunched in thought before looking back up at the medic.

“Can’t you guys like, I dunno, go pick up some new parts and fix him?”

It was an innocent question, hopeful even, asked in a quiet and repentant voice.  Ratchet gave the Autobot equivalent of a sad sigh.

“We cannot replace sparks, Sam.  It is not as simple as you humans and the ability to swap organs from your deceased if they have the possibility to be compatible.  Our sparks contain who we are.  To give Ironhide another spark to replace his own will indeed replace Ironhide himself.  He will become someone else entirely.”

“So, you’re telling me that fixing his spark isn’t possible?  Trying to will kill him anyway?”

“Yes.  That is exactly what I’m telling you.  Ironhide’s condition is permanent and it will, eventually, terminate him.” Ratchet answered, optics locked on the recharging patient several feet away.

Sam cast his eyes down, mind still reeling over the information presented to it.  An insistent beeping from Ironhide’s berth drew both his and Ratchet’s attention.  The green mech walked to one of the instruments attached to the weapons officer, pressing a sequence of buttons on the attached keypad.  

“Ratch?” Sam asked, worriedly stepping closer.  “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, Sam.” Ratchet said, giving the boy a small smile, “It’s just signaling the next stage of Ironhide’s treatment and required an authorization code.”

“Oh…” Sam started, “Wait.  Treatment?  You’ve had time to develop a treatment for this?” he asked, voice incredulous.

Ratchet didn’t turn from monitoring his machines as he answered.

“This isn’t the first time this has happened.  Ironhide has been dealing with this…disability for some time now.  The treatment is a temporary fix.  It cannot solve this problem.”

A groan escaped Ironhide’s form and his limbs twitched slightly.  Sam, surprised, jumped back.

“Is he waking up?”

Ratchet simply shook his head.  “No.  It’s normal for this stage.”

Again, the large black mech twitched, this time more forcefully.

“Sam.  Perhaps it would be best if you went home.  This isn’t pleasant to watch and I might have to restrain him to keep him from hurting himself.”

The boy remained where he stood, blaming his own insistence on a morbid curiosity.

“What’s happening to him?”

Ratchet sighed again, adjusting some of the controls to the various apparatuses around the table.  

“I’m teaching his spark to regulate it’s own rhythm again.  This machine,” he said, indicating to the largest of the equipment present, “is sending electro-magnetic pulses directly into his spark chamber at an intermittent rate.  The pulses have a side effect, hence his movements.”

“Does…does it hurt?”

Ratchet paused in his movements, contemplating his response.  

“He’s never told me if it did or not.  I can’t imagine it to be a pleasant experience by any means, however.”

Ironhide groaned again as another spasm hit him, one arm falling off the table only to be gently put back in it’s former position by Ratchet.  

“You know, doctors are finding cures for stuff all the time.  I mean, is it possible to fix him for good?” Sam inquired, stepping closer to both mechs.

“I don’t know.  We’ve not had any opportunities since the war started to make any decent studies.”

“Do you have time now?”

Ratchet’s movements stopped and he gazed at the small human with a contemplative look.  

“I suppose we do.  For a while at least.”

Sam chewed on his lip nervously, eyes glancing quickly between the mechs.

“Does -he- have time?”

The medic kneeled down to be closer to Sam’s eye level.

“He’s not going to expire anytime soon, Sam.  I said ‘eventually’.  We live a long time and always thought the war would end us before anything else.  Now, we might actually have ‘caught a break’ as you humans say.”

Sam visibly relaxed and looked up at the resting mech.  Ironhide still spasmed periodically but seemed much calmer than he had before.  

“So…you’re gunna try?”

Ratchet gave the boy another small smile, “Of course, Sam.”

The boy gave a confident nod.  

“When will he wake up?”

The medic stood and looked at his equipment, “Not for a while.  His systems are drained but he’s recharging nicely.  I‘ll ensure you are notified upon his waking.”

“Okay.” he said, turning on his heel and walking towards the door.

As the door slid shut, Ratchet’s shoulders slumped.  He hadn’t truly lied to the youngster but he hadn’t been completely honest either.  His intent had to been to repair the boy’s confidence in the fact that they were tougher than they seemed.  In all honesty, he truly had no idea how long it would take for this debilitating disorder to lay claim to Ironhide’s very existence, nor did he know how long the treatment would hold out before this illness evolved yet again.  Carefully, as to not disturb any of the numerous connectors and wires, he laid a gentle hand on the black mech’s shoulder, gripping it just slightly.  Ratchet had no intention of not making any attempts to fix the problem, he just wasn’t sure if he -could-.

“It’s been a long trip, old friend.  Stay with me a while longer and we can at least -try-.”