wildernesstales: (TF)
[personal profile] wildernesstales
Rating: PG-13
Series: G1
Pairings/Prompt: G1: Ratchet/Megatron – trick – you don't need that mask but if you want to wear it, I won't mind
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: As per usual, the good things in life are not mine to have, but belong to someone else... in this case Hasbro, Takara and IDW and anyone else I’ve forgotten…
Authors Notes: I had fun doing the prowlxjazz Anniversary Challenge, if no one else enjoyed reading them. So when tf_rare_pairing announced their October challenge, I thought I might try something similar. Though this is going to be different as I have to write on a daily basis again. But that was fun when I did it before (both times). So yeah… wish the ever-more-eccentric one luck?
Feedback makes friends. Flames dealt with by the masters of paranoia and fire, Red Alert and Inferno

It developed as a defence mechanism.  At the start of the war, he took every death personally.  Every spark that guttered under his hands hurt him, pained him in a way that he definitely didn’t like.  So he cultivated a different persona.  A gruff medic, one who didn’t seem to care whether he hurt an injured mech with a flying wrench.  It was something that helped him cope.

Megatron watched from the other side of the war as his medic got gruffer and gruffer, until he barely resembled the mech Megatron once knew.  His mind made up, he knew exactly what he would offer Ratchet next time they came in contact.

One moment, he remembered being on the battlefield, the next, nothing.  Until he woke up in a Decepticon cell.  Groaning, he levered himself to a semi-upright position, joints protesting the movement.
“Ratchet.” He jerked in surprise as his name was called, seeing Megatron outside the bars.
“What the frag do you want?” He growled.
“For you to drop that mask for a change.” Megatron smiled.  Ratchet stared.  “You don’t need it here, not with me.” Ratchet stared some more.
“But if you feel you need to keep it on, do so.” Megatron palmed the switch that controlled the energy bars and stepped into Ratchet’s cell.
“But I know you better than that.  This is not you.” He gestured to Ratchet.
“You just gestured to all of me.” Ratchet’s optics narrowed.
“You are not the mech I once knew and loved.” Megatron crouched, coming optic to optic with Ratchet.
“Of course I’m not.  We’re at war, I’m not going to remain unchanged, not when so many…” He trailed off, spark twisting at the thought of all the mechs who had deactivated.
“I had sought to free Cybertron.”
“Well you didn’t.” Ratchet snapped back.
“No, I didn’t.” Megatron agreed.  “And I have found a worthier goal now.”
“Bringing you back to the mech you once were.  The mech that I loved then and still love now.”
“And just how do you think you’re going to do that?” Ratchet stared at Megatron.  “War’s changed me.”
“And not being at war will change you again.” Megatron said decisively.  “I want you back.  I want the vivacious carefree medic who loved to interface and party back.  Not this grumpy sullen mech who moans all the time.” Ratchet bristled.
“Careful now.” He growled, not caring that Megatron was the leader of the Decepticons.  Now they were just two mechs who had been in a relationship.  “I might think that you still care about me.”
“And if I do?” Megatron cupped Ratchet’s cheek, pleased when he didn’t pull away.
“Then that changes everything.” Ratchet admitted quietly.
“And everything will change.” Megatron promised.

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Tales from the Wilderness

November 2013

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