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Wheeljack isn't an alcoholic, it's just that he always shares his drinks with Ratchet, and everybody who knows the doc, will know that anybot who had a drinking night with him will be the next mech treated in the medbay for excessive high grade intake.
It wasn't a cost he particularly mind. Being Ratchet number one patient (and drinking partner) in the Ark, the medbay already become his second berthroom, only his poor back the true victim of their shared drinks, always stating their displeasure by giving him aching joints for daring to sleep on the cold and hard berth of the medbay.
It's not always the medbay, it'll be the rec room if Ratchet feeling jolly, hearing the latest ridiculous injury Ratchet has to deal with, whether it's the twins with their pranks and jet judo, Cliffjumper with his recklessness, or any ridiculous event the bots got roped into, sometimes it was even him strap in the med berth, hearing the old bot ranting the same script of how ridiculous and reckless their actions are, always loud, fiery, full of energy.
Only right now it's not the same script or energy.
"It's my fault."
The lack of it to be precise.
Drinking his cube, he focused his optics on the medic, who sat across him. He gives a small "Go on" to the CMO. Ratchet, who feels the encouragement, holds his high grade tightly, brooding looking to the table instead of Wheeljack. Field full of regret and mourning, mixing with his own, filling the room and shifting it to its well, making the room different and unrecognizable despite nothing being changed. It's unsettling, intimidating, haunting; every word he knows to describe the room doesn't feel right.
But he didn't need to ask the doc to know the reason why, not when the whole ship shares the same feeling. With the whole ship's morale is in all time Pits, especially Prowl. Discussing the subject itself felt like a taboo. Nobody wants Grief to spread in their spark again.
(Not when after so long they finally live without the constant of it).
Not when it's just hours they mourn for their friend in his grave.
Grief is an odd and unbearable feeling. Everybody is experiencing it but different responses. Some mechs become more active and restless, taking more voluntary patrols and becoming more jumpy to surprises, others get their energy drained, locking themselves in their berthrooms, not even to intake or clean themselves.
And for Ratchet,
He laments his actions.
As he sip his cube Ratchet look at him with tired optics, "I shouldn't have encouraged the kid," Looking down at his own blurred reflection on the cube as Wheeljack glance worryingly at the increasing pile of high grade beside them, anymore cubes and he might need to comm First Aid to check Ratchet intake system, if the old bot didn't knock himself first that is. "It's Jetfire, why did I think it'll end well?" The old bot snide, messaging his helm.
He hums an acknowledgement, swirling his cube and its contents. He moved his servo the doc's own, moving his digit into making slow circling motions, comforting him.
Despite Ratchet's denial for his overbearingness for their ward, he sure is taking another step in blaming himself for Starscream injuries. If the mood isn't so mournful, he would've move the conversation to another topic entirely.
Jetfire, just mentioning the name itself could make the whole ship run to a frenzy and for good reasons too. In just such a short time of the mech confirmed arrival he successfully took the life of someone precious to them, three if not for fast intervention. The timing is far too familiar and perfect to know it's his involvement on the Decepticons activity recently. Not even a megacycle and he successfully reminds how Earth is just another planet the Decepticons will destroy.
Didn't help either, the only other mech in the room might have been the cause of Jetfire's return. He moved his optics to the only remaining patient of the medbay. Starscream.
Unlike Starscream's first appearance in the medbay, when Hound and Jazz put Starscream frame to the medbay after digging out of the ice, with luster that reminded them of past lives, his current state is the opposite of it, with paint ruined and peeled off, paired with rough armor contrasting the firstly vibrant and sleek appearance the mech had. If it wasn't for the remaining color on the frame he might have thought Ratchet is trying to revive a corpse from the dead. Again.
Guess Jetfire doesn't have any bit of compassion in his spark, even for a long lost partner. Damages alone are enough to tell them that.
Ratchet, who notices that Wheeljack isn't paying attention to their conversation anymore, follows his optics direction to his sole patient, his faceplate tenses, before the medic could comment on Wheeljack who notices Ratchet staring concerningly ask, "How bad is he?"
He isn't underestimating the docs capabilities, but as much as Ratchet servo's are the one that pull him from the Allsparks lull a thousand times, he knows Ratchet can't make his patients cheat death. No matter how much he wants too.
And Starscream should've been dead long ago.
Hearing the question Ratchet visibly relaxes, (Is there something bothering the doc?) "Better than when I brought him from the quarry to say the least, he won't wake up anytime soon." He took another sip of his high-grade while closing his optics, "No need to worry for any eavesdropping."
Unlike Ratchet and Perceptor who themselves already have their separate opinions of Starscream, his impression of the revived scientist was blurred to say the least, their only conversation was insufficient to have a solid opinion and the meetings with the High Command's didn't count.
Reserved and perhaps witty is the only opinion he has for Starscream. The look the seeker gave him at his tour of the Ark, reminded him of shy colleagues and young students that once idolized him, always bewildered when finally meeting him real in the metal. Always a sight to remember.
And perhaps a charmer too, if he's considering how quick Starscream grows on the doc spark in just such a short time, and how much Perceptor was "giddy" of all things when they're working on the Trion. The first joor they're together fixing the ship he almost thought Percy got replaced by some uncanny clone, only debunked after the mech tells him EVERYTHING about the electro gummy project he got involved in with the seeker, from the theories that might help them both reviving the lost knowledge to the very detailed interaction they have in the lab. Perceptor excitedly explained everything to him as they're working on the ship, only to stop near the end as Perceptor abruptly stopped with burning faceplate, ending the story with a low volume, field full of emotion he's far too familiar with.
Watching Perceptor faceplate as they both waiting for all the logs to be sent to Teletran 1 is amusing to say the least, his increasing heated frame and talking speed that might catch up to Blurr made him thought if Perceptor faceplate could heat up anymore, he could picture Ratchet angry faceplate scolding him for giving him a patient with a crisp faceplate.
He almost opted to turn off his audio receptors too if the project itself wasn't so intriguing (and the amusing behavior). Reviving the sweet itself isn't something impossible but the lack of sample makes itself near impossible considering the only guideline they have is their vogue memory on how it tastes and shaped.
(Digging any more reasons would mean getting the bitter answer he already knew.)
Now, If only he wasn't scolded by Prowl for letting unauthorized access to Starscream (that he in fact did not give), he himself would be far more supportive of the project. Moving all of his projects to the Trion is not something his back appreciated, even if Ratchet helped him with it, the sympathetic
The look he got from the old mech told him everything he needed. If the guilt didn't make Ratchet more soft in his next treatment Wheeljack stink eye did.
Ratchet, who senses that Wheeljack still has the injured seeker in his processor, frowns and says "Whatever you're thinking about the kid, let it go. I have enough mechs glaring him down" like a Decepticon is something both of them know left unsaid.
Rumors were sprouting in the ship, a bad habit of theirs whenever a battle hits too deep to the spark. Starscream being a spy, about him giving the signal to the Decepticons into killing their friend, or an invention Jetfire personally made to infiltrate them. Every time he hears another theory, the more deranged and incomprehensible it gets. Nobody knows who started it but it filled and spread into their processor like a virus. In the end every rumor led to one thing.
The fault of Chip's death is targeted to Starscream.
As quick as it spread though, the rumors died, probably due how illogical most of the rumors are. Processors finally work again after recovering from the mourning ...or maybe the attack at the quarry finally slaps them of the right consciousness.
They weren't medics but it didn't take the skill of one to see the damages left by Jetfires and Thundercrackers fleet isn't anything merciful. The message the attack gave was clear.
Whatever mutual feeling Jetfire and Starscream shared long ago, clearly it has turned into something one sided.
He would be a hypocrite if he said he didn't have his suspicions too the days before, seeing someone outright defending Jerfires name not because of desperation or fear is something he thought impossible.
He's just thankful Ratchet can't read minds like Soundwave (maybe), hearing him rant about making Skywarp a waste disposal unit is enough to make him shut his speculation for another day or another bot.
Yet, Ratchet, who claims can't read minds, reads his mind anyways, with a frown he lowered his cube, "Blame the kid and he'll think we're functionalists, again."
The information struck him. Genuine shock froze his fuel lines mechanism, making the high grade he drank stop flowing. He put a fist to his chassis, letting the energon beneath the plating flow naturally again. Surprise filled his field, his fins glow bright by the absurd statement "What?"
Functionalist?! Them?
Ratchet nonchalantly explained, "Misunderstanding. Don't worry I handled it," as if the sentence alone didn't open up more questions than answers.
"Was that why?" The attack in the quarry and at the power plant happened unsaid , not that it needed to be when his optics kept moving concerningly between Ratchet and Starscream.
"No, but it's going to be if we don't fix things" Ratchet put his cube on the table while circling his digits on it. "Some mech rubs the wrong impression on him, mainly Cliffjumper and...."
Ratchet went silent for a while, nervousness set loosely with his field. "The Aerialbots." He murmurs barely audible, optics not meeting him.
It was heard either way, "The Aerialbots?" Gears start to run in his processor. The Aerialbots? When did they meet Starscream? More importantly, What did they do to make Starscream conclude they're a bunch of functionalists? While yes the Aerialbots themselves keep their distance from the other bots, he would've been more convince if the seeker was put off by Ironhide comment alone in their last meeting.
"Starscream, the kid told me that their frames are faulty.... Very faulty, thought we didn't give a damn to them, because of it." Finishing his sentence Ratchet looks like all of his energy has been drained, minutes away from having a shutdown as if the words themselves seep his energon.
Oh.
Oh.
As instant Ratchet says those words, his own frame malfunction at the spot, his vents stuttering their basic function, his pedes glued to the floor deadly still, his thermometer glitching by saying the medbay temperature is normal despite him knowing the room felt cold as the artic.
"How faulty?" He dared himself, trying to ignore the uncomfortableness he feels in his own frame, the cons always taunting about how bad the Aerialbots are, shouting until everyone in the battlefield could hear it if you're Skywarp.
How much of it is actually true? More importantly, did the kids know about it? Having the Decepticons taunting them in every altercation is bad enough to drown their self-esteem, knowing most of it is true would no doubt just burn it nonexistent.
"Faulty enough for the cons to be right." Ratchet spat as he looked away from him, focusing on the table, hiding his faceplate from Wheeljack. The reflection of the table was far too blurry to make out of but it's easy to know the medic faceplate morphs to something tense with the shame and guilt felt from the old mechs field, released like an energon deposit finally bursting, it spreads to him, consuming him.
The emotions were strong and unyielding, like a secret finally revealed after so long, though considering the doc maybe it was only a few days before the secret was made. He hesitantly moved his digits to the old mech servos. It wasn't rejected. If only he pays attention more he'll notice how lightly his digits are held.
Wheeljack tilts his helm upwards, focussing on the lights of the medbay. Its brightness seared him into optics, a warning appeared before his HUD, no longer exposure and his optics might burst. He persisted anyway. The light let him stand his ground.
The information is still on the surface of his helm, acknowledged but not understood. None of the words Ratchet said sink in like an anchor, only floating. None of his logic drives are willing to accept the information and put it in his processor. His spark could not handle it, his cogs would malfunction at the spot.
Grief and guilt aren't something he wants to deal with simultaneously.
Not today and certainly not now.
He didn't dare to play any of the memory that spread all over his HUD, for every memory he has of the Aerialbots that appeared, the more he sees how much of their faceplate shifts to frustration each more encounter they have with a Decepticon. Skydive, Slingshot, Air Raid, everyone.
In the corner of his optics a memory haunts him, despite knowing, the memory itself isn't playing the image itself is enough to make his ingestion churn.
It was Silverbolt facing him with a sad smile, the one the kid gave him after just getting comforted after the first time the Decepticons met the Aerialbots, after the barrage insult the Aerialbots got from Thundercrackers armada.
"Faulty enough for the cons to be right."
Was that why the Aerialbots distance themselves from the rest of the others now? Did they figure it out enough and think their caretakers couldn't give a second thought to them? And they're right?
"Faulty enough for the cons to be right."
He isn't a mind reader but he knows Silverbolt holds his reasoning with a firm grip, his field was obvious when the sadness melted minutes after Wheeljack said the Decepticons spout more nonsense than a faulty navigation system, especially Skywarp.
Surely it's not that bad right?
"Faulty enough for the cons to be right."
Right?
"Faulty enough for the cons to be right."
Before his processor could get any hotter, Ratchet threw his remaining high-grade to Wheeljack. He gacks as the cold sensation of the liquid gets to his faceplate and neck cables.
With his panicking getting splashed down (literally) he moves his optics to the medic. Who has an unreadable expression on his faceplate.
Ratchet put his servo into his shoulder, holding him. "Don't make your processor shut down on yourself, or your optics burn" half jokingly he said, "I already have enough patients."
Wheeljack didn't answer the remark, moving his optics to his own high grade, trying to see his reflection. The high grade Ratchet throwed to him was still dripping from his frame, fracturing any reflection that tried to show any of his appearance.
He pulled himself to face Ratchet, still feeling the cool sensation of the high grade on his frame, "Are you-" He hesitated, "Are you going to tell them?" Eyeing the drink for a final moment, his reflection rippled.
"Frag no," Ratchet exclaimed, seeing Wheeljack frown and wide optics, he quickly put down his servo, glancing to the side, optics not meeting the scientist's own, "Not until we found a solution at least."
Not giving the atmosphere a chance to get any worse the medic continued, "I already have a plan, The Prime already approved it too."
Wheeljack tilted his head to the side in curiosity.
Ratchet, who notices Wheeljack's reaction , explained, "I asked for the blueprints of the planes we based the Aerialbots off from the military for a favor."
"And that is?" An optic ridge raised in curiosity.
With a heavy sigh and a frown, "Make a superweapon for them."
"Figures." He shaked his helm. "Any specifications? I'm not doing anything too impossible." Despite what the others think, in the end of the solar cycle his inventions are just abusing the laws of nature. Not break the laws of nature, "Or anything sentient."
Ratchet shows off a servo,"Hold on." Slowly arising from the chair, he walked to a nearby cabinet, where a messy stack of datapads could be distantly seen. Walking back with a blue datapad, he slides it to Wheeljack, who grabs it with his servo, try to read its contents.
Ratchet, who put a servo on top of his own gift him a light smile, "How about read this after you have a proper recharge, we already got Silverbolt blueprints and the military said they won't rush us until they got the materials, I'll even walk with you to your room."
Amused, he teases, "Abandoning your patients Ratchet?" Tilting his head to the side. "And for little old me?"
Huffing, the old bot gently shives him, denying it. "Don't be ridiculous, he's already stable and my frame will offline itself if I sleep on a chair again."
Wheeljack chuckles at the statement.
In the end he forgot what they did or even talked about after that, memory blurred together as his final memory was saying goodbye to Ratchet him laying on his berth. Holding the datapads lightly.