Sex, Lies, and the Autobot Leader
(or The Crush)
by Phantom
Author's note: BEWARE: this fic is extremely rated, full of vulgar language as well as explicit sexual description and innuendo.
Chapter Twenty-Two
rating: non-sexual
Consciousness came to her slowly, like waves gently lapping at the shore. A faint smile tinged her weary face. Existing in this dreamlike state was rather pleasant. She wanted to stay and enjoy it, but something drove her onward and upward, to a small pinprick of light that seemed to get larger as she approached it. As she grew nearer, sensations began to prick at her, slightly at first, then more forcefully. It felt like her whole body had fallen numb from disuse and was finally coming awake. A part of her struggled to cry out, to fight this awakening. She had the dim sense that if she went into that bright light, if she allowed the numbness to dissipate, a terrible ache would overcome her. She wanted to drift in this eternal nothingness, wrapped in the cozy blackness, like a warm fuzzy blanket keeping her safe. Try as she might, though, she couldn't stop her forward motion as the speck of light became a dot, then an ever-expanding circle. She felt a gentle touch on her hand, and that sensation drew her out of her protective cocoon. That touch was comforting, and she was sure that whoever it was that was standing by her would never cause her harm. With that thought to bolster her spirits, her mind breached the gap between the unconscious and conscious worlds.
Crystal cried out softly and hastily dimmed her optics, nearly blinded by the soft yet powerful light that seemed to shine directly into her optics like a beacon. 'Where *am* I?' she wondered hazily. The dim recollection of her effort to take her life came back to her, but the impression remained distant, like a hazy dream. 'Am I dead? Could this be the Matrix?' A shape moved in her peripheral vision, and she struggled with her overburdened systems to make it out. "Primus?" she whispered, a sense of awe overtaking her.
A dry yet kind chuckle told her instantly that her reunion with her ancestors was still a ways off. "Well, I've been called a lot of things in my time, but that has to be a first!" Finally her stubborn optics gave her a relatively clear picture, though still fuzzy around the edges. Although the figure was an angel of mercy and dedicated his life to helping others, he couldn't quite fill the shoes of the Transformers' legendary deity. Ratchet, the Autobots' chief medical officer, smiled down upon her kindly. His bedside manner was a tad rough around the edges, but even he knew that this case required a subtle touch. "Sorry to disappoint you, but it's just little old me. How are you feeling?"
Crystal looked a bit curiously at the hand that still grasped hers lightly, and the doctor let go, looking a bit flustered. "Not so good," she groaned, error messages scrolling through her CPU.
"I wouldn't be surprised," Ratchet replied. "We weren't sure if you'd make it for a while there. First Aid and I were able to fix most of the structural damage, but a good deal of minor contusions remain. Only time and rest will cure that."
Crystal looked down, a sudden wave of shame flooding her. Although Ratchet had not alluded to the details, she gathered that he and First Aid had had their work cut out for them. They had worked so hard to save her, to give her back the gift of life that she had so desperately wanted to dispose of. She didn't deserve such kindness.
"Hey, what's wrong?" Ratchet said softly, taking her hand instinctively.
"I--I don't know what to say," she choked. "I'm sorry to have caused so much trouble. I'm just not worth it."
"Don't say that!" Crystal winced at the sudden harsh tone in his voice, the doctor's hand tightening around hers to the point of crushing. "You *are* worth it! I'm sorry that you don't see that. I just wish there was some way to prove it to you." He looked away, realizing that he was losing his grip on his emotions. He coughed a bit and continued. "Get some rest now. You've been through an awful lot, and you need time to recover. In a few days, when you feel up to it, we'll schedule an appointment with Smokescreen. He should be able to help you a bit with your depression. Until then, you need to get some recharge. Doctor's orders." He turned to go, shaking his head, wishing there were something more that he could do to help.
"Wait!" The sudden cry froze him in his tracks, its plaintive tone sending a chill through his exostructure. He turned, locking optics with the forlorn-looking femme on the medberth.
Crystal bit her lip, hating to sound so desperate, but a part of her could not bear to let him leave. "Please... don't go. I'm afraid to be alone."
Ratchet hesitated. He had his duties to attend to, but First Aid could easily cover for him. Naturally, his workload had fallen considerably after the war, and while he had devoted a lot of his spare time towards experiments and research, such projects could wait. Right now his patient needed him, and he was not about to say no. Truth be told, he rather enjoyed being by her side. Even while she lay in stasis, the equivalent of a coma, he still liked keeping her company, holding her hand, giving her a tactile lifeline to the real world. He had just assumed that it was professional pride, the spark of pleasure that had led him to study medicine, his genuine delight in nursing others back to health, much as his gruff exterior belied it. But now, the sudden burst of pleasurable pain in his abdomen gave him pause. He felt a moment of panic, knowing he was treading in unknown territory. He could not remember feeling this way about any of his patients before, not even the ones that he had saved from certain death by pulling the proverbial rabbit out of a hat. No, this was different, and while First Aid only felt a weary disgust and sorrow towards Crystal for wanting to throw away her life, Ratchet felt somehow drawn to her. Watching her in the eerie stillness of stasis had given him an odd pain that he knew no diagnostic could identify. He knew, deep inside, that if he went to her and took her hand, it would not be as a doctor, but as something more profound. And he knew that he could not refuse her.
Smiling slightly, he came to her bedside and gently took her hand in his own. "Don't worry," he said softly. "I'm here. You will never be alone again."
"Thank you," Crystal whispered, already drifting off into recharge mode, the stress of her earlier mental anguish and extensive surgeries catching up to her. "You've always been... a good friend... to me," she murmured, her words trailing off as her systems cycled down.
"It's my pleasure," Ratchet replied, knowing that she could no longer hear him but feeling a burning need to voice it. He studied her small red hand, encased in his large gray one. She seemed so fragile, and a sudden fierce need to protect her rose in him. He marveled at its strength, finally admitting to himself that perhaps there was something more that drew him to this femme. Maybe, just maybe, Optimus and First Aid were on to something after all.
Ratchet groaned to himself, all the while taking care not to disturb his slumbering patient. This was all wrong, he tried to tell himself. 'But why does it feel so right?' he asked himself, and for that he had no reply. Looking at things rationally, he could see that it would not work out. She was a recovering suicide victim with unimaginable phantoms loose in her head, and he was a brusque chief medical officer with caustic wit and an odd penchant for parties. Both of them had had their share of flings, and both had been burned. Of course, in comparison, Ratchet had escaped comparatively unscathed, but that didn't mean that it hadn't hurt at the time. This was precisely the wrong time to get involved, and yet... and yet... could he really say no to that wan face that looked at him so trustingly? Could he tell her, bluntly, "I can't treat you anymore because I'm falling in love with you."? And if he did, would she be disgusted, or laugh, or cry? No, it was just too dangerous to get involved. It was not just his feelings on the line; it was her very life. If things didn't work out, only Primus knew how she would take it.
As if sensing his turbulent thoughts, Crystal stirred slightly and cried out. A bad dream, no doubt. Ratchet murmured soothing words to her, caressing her cheek gently, his other hand tightening on hers that held on so trustingly. No, he could not bear to hurt her. But something in him would not be denied. And it whispered to him, 'Perhaps there is a chance. Perhaps there may yet be happiness for you both....'
end of Chapter Twenty-Two
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