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Miko opens another filing cabinet drawer and finds…nothing.
She clicks her tongue in frustration and rolls her eyes before crouching down to tip the cabinet back and look underneath. The whole thing tips dangerously and when her search comes up empty for the millionth time, she allows it to fall back all the way and crash to the ground loudly, finding satisfaction in the small amount of destruction she caused.
The sound of the metal cabinet on the concrete floor carries and bounces through the base.
Miko flops back and stares at the ceiling, giving up, deciding if she can't find paper to do her homework on, then she just won't do it at all.
Behind her, Jack and Raf, who had kindly been helping her in her search (and also have a particular need for homework paper themselves), wince at the crash. Miko rolls her eyes at them.
The distinctly more frantic sound of more metal slams on concrete, easily recognized by now as robot pede-falls, has Jack glaring her direction.
“What?!” Miko questions his stare.
“You scared them.” Raf says simply.
“Whatever. They're big bots.”
Jack gives a dramatic sigh and shakes his head “at least sit up so they don't think you're dead.”
His suggestion is made just in time for Miko to ignore it and Bulkhead to reach the entrance to the room, stumbling in terrified at the sight of Miko lying flat next to the fallen cabinet.
Ratchet, with only slightly more controlled grace, is right behind him. His armor slowly shifts back into place from where it must have raised, in his brief panic.
Raf had only seen the red glow of Ratchet's medical scanner activated for seconds before the bot had shut it off with an embarrassed click when Miko’s laughter drifted to him, where he remained at the door.
She's still on the floor, pointing and laughing at Bulkhead who crouches down next to her, a servo hovering over his chassis as if he had a heartbeat to still.
“Miko!? What's wrong!?”
She only laughs harder.
Ratchet's annoyed voice, colored with a sort of relief only Bulkhead seems to pick up on, has Bulkhead turning awkwardly to face him and keep attention on Miko at the same time.
“She's fine, Bulkhead. Just making a mess of Agent Fowler's hard copies.” The lights of his optics flicker in something that is reminiscent of an eye roll.
Raf disguises a small huff of laughter as a cough and pretends not to notice Ratchet's medical scanner falling over his body as well.
“We didn't mean to scare you guys-” Raf starts, interrupted by a scoff from Ratchet and the quick end to the medical scan, the med-bot looking away awkwardly “-but we were looking for blank paper.”
Bulkhead tilts his helm in interest and begins to bring himself off the floor. “Blank paper?”
His optics fall on Jack, so the boy answers, “math homework.”
That explanation doesn't appear to click to either of the bots, as Bulkhead’s optics dim in confusion and Ratchet turns his attention away from the children and towards the computers, clearly deciding himself unneeded and uninterested in the conversation now that it's clear Miko is unharmed.
Jack elaborates, “We need the extra paper to solve the problems, it's not easy for us humans to do complex math problems in our heads.”
“Ah, I see. Yeah, sorry, we don't keep blank paper. Maybe a datapad?” Bulkhead raises his voice and directs his next words to Ratchet, “Hey Ratch? Got a spare datapad?”
“It would be of little use to the children, our touch-tech doesn't recognize their hands.”
Bulkhead turns back to the three humans “Huh. Maybe…we could just tell you the answers?”
“Works for me!” Miko begins towards her discarded backpack.
“No. Miko, that would kinda defeat the purpose of homework.” Jack shakes his head.
Miko only unzips her bag and reaches into the unorganized mess for the homework packet, before deciding she'll have more luck dumping the whole thing out.
Out tumbles papers and pens, little origami swans made from post-it notes, and gum wrappers, but one thing rolls away from the pile and taps against Raf’s shoe. He bends to pick it up, “a dry erase marker.”
His observation goes ignored, but an idea comes to him. He drags his eyes over the other things that had fallen out and successfully finds three more markers. Simple, black, chisel-tipped, dry erase markers. He picks them up, and holds them in his hands, patiently waiting for Miko to find her work.
“Aha! Success!” She waves the packet triumphantly over her head, the papers fanning out from where she pinches the staple. Her smug expression falls when she sees Jack's own smirk as he holds his own homework at his hip, having found it much easier. Simply needing to open the glossy red folder marked ‘math’ in his own backpack and pull out the first paper.
Miko rolls her eyes, “yeah, whatever. Organization is overrated.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Miko.”
Raf turns to Bulkhead, “do you have a dry erase board somewhere?”
The bot and two older humans turn to the boy and his question. They look down at the small hands displaying the markers as a silent explanation before Bulkhead turns and glances around the room before answering, “no. Sorry, Raf.” Bulkhead shakes his head regretfully.
“That's okay, I have a better idea!” Miko snatches a marker from Raf and opens it with her teeth, “hold still Bulk.” She orders around the cap in her mouth.
She creeps up to the bot and her marker descends on the top of his pede, making an easy squiggly line to demonstrate her point.
Bulkhead laughs at the strange sensation and lifts his pede to inspect her work, when he sets his pede back to the floor beside her she's disappointed.
“What's wrong?”
“Can't see it very well, can you? Your paint’s too dark”
“That's okay, it was a good idea. We can try-”
“But you know whose paint isn't?” She ignores Bulkhead and slowly turns her head in the direction of Ratchet, his back turned to them as he works at the computer, completely oblivious to her mischief.
“Nuh-uh. Miko. Bad idea.” Bulkhead frowns at her and moves with one large step to block her way.
“Too late.”
She slips underneath him, but he knows her well enough by now and quickly swipes her up into his servo.
“Seriously, Bulk?”
“Don't bother him. He's been working hard lately.”
“All the more reason to let me go. You know he likes to help us with school.” Miko begins to draw small flowers, barely visible against the dark-green paint, onto Bulkhead's wrist joint as he pauses to consider her point.
“... that's…true.”
“Yes!”
Bulkhead begins to nod slowly as he lowers her back to the ground.
“Okay, it's worth a shot. Go ahead.”
Miko grins up at Bulkhead, then waves the other two children to follow behind her as they make their way up the platform and onto the elevator computer desk, to be somewhat eye level with the medic.
She turns back to Bulkhead and winks, before leaning dramatically against the computer Ratchet is slowly typing away at.
“Heya, Ratchet!”
His optics flick towards her and he clicks his glossa, unimpressed.
The three humans exchange a small look before Miko tries again, “sooo-”
“What do you want?” Ratchet pauses his typing and rests his arms on the table to lean towards the children and glance between the three of them.
“Uh…” now that his full attention is on them, and he clearly expects an explanation for their presence, Miko isn't sure how to ask. She looks behind her at the boys, who only shrug, also at a loss for how to ask the medic to let them draw on him.
Suddenly, to their relief, Bulkhead steps in, “the kids need some help with their homework.”
The med-bot’s optics blink on and off for a moment and he tilts his helm, “really? Forgive me for being suspicious, but after their science projects I imagine they'd be more willing to ask agent Fowler for assistance than me.” He gives a skeptical glance to the children. They look away.
Bulkhead laughs.
“It's not the traditional help they're looking for; all you have to do is stay still.”
“...Huh?”
“Here, let me show you.” Raf suddenly speaks up, uncapping a marker and flipping through his own homework pages. He selects one to begin with and moves towards Ratchet's folded arms with the marker, but the medic pulls back, unsure.
“Don’t move, Ratch.” Bulkhead sets a servo on the older bot’s shoulder plating, and it distracts him enough for Raf to mark the beginnings of the complex math problem.
Once Raf had begun, the medic registers his proximity to the fragile human and makes a visible effort to hold his arm still despite the strange feelings of the marker on his plating.
The two older humans, sensing the opportunity, pounce brandishing their own markers and homework problems.
For a moment, Ratchet grits his denta against the tingling sensation of three tiny markers…then he adjusts and suddenly finds himself oddly relaxed.
He shakes his helm to fight an odd wave of sleepiness and attempts to lift the arm not currently being drawn on, to get back to his work, only to be met with resistance.
Jack had run out of room on Ratchet's other arm and was now well on his way to completing what appeared to be a long and complex problem on Ratchet's other arm.
Unwilling to destroy their work with any sudden movements, the med-bot taps a digit to gain their attention. “Children.”
Three small faces look up at him.
“I need my servos back.” He tries to look annoyed, finding it unnaturally difficult with the children looking at him like that.
“C'mon Ratch.”
Bulkhead's voice floats from behind him. Had Bulkhead never left? How had Ratchet not noticed?
Ratchet prevents himself from jumping at the surprise, still aware of the tiny hands patiently waiting on his plating.
Ratchet turns his helm awkwardly to face the bot behind him. “You too, Bulkhead? You know we don't have the time. I need to get back to work.” The medic scoffs.
“But it's for their education.” Bulkhead smiles and the humans can't quite see Ratchet's expression, but he is quiet for a moment, then releases an irritated sort of engine-revving sound.
“Fine. Make it quick. Chop-chop.”
The humans and wrecker share dazzling grins, and their drawing starts back up again.
After the pause, the sensation of the markers and sleeves, pulled up to erase mistakes, needs to be adjusted to once again.
He must have been noticeably twitchy because Bulkhead's servo comes to rest on his plating once again.
Steadying him.
Reminding him to be still.
Eventually he acclimates and the small numbers and symbols accumulating on his paint are once again paradoxically soothing.
This time, Bulkhead’s servo remains on his shoulder. The other servo comes up to join on the other side and the gentle weight tips Ratchet back slightly as his optics dim involuntarily, or maybe that’s just him. Settling. He distantly acknowledges his plating sinking low and outward, his frame relaxing with a quickness that surprises him. His processor begins to tip toward recharge. He sends a weak command to pull his armor closer to his protoform, like a human straightening their posture.
He is confident the children don’t understand Cybertronian frame language enough to tell he had been near falling into recharge. Balancing just on that state of awareness. Though, Bulkhead may have caught it. Ratchet wonders why the children’s drawings are having such a recharge-inducing effect, and can only hope the wrecker, with servos still comfortably resting on him, is oblivious to Ratchet’s inner struggle to remain aware.
He cannot see the look of surprise Bulkhead gives the children and the confused look they return. He only drifts.
Maybe he should fight it harder.
He has work to do. Responsibility. He can't be weak around them. Not weak around the children. Not Bulkhead.
Is it weak to relax?
But…it really is a nice feeling.
When Ratchet's helm tips towards his chest-plate, the children pause and look to Bulkhead asking if it is okay for them to continue with the med-bot clearly losing his fight with unconsciousness.
The bot nods at them to continue and flashes the lights of one optic in what he hopes they understand is meant to mimic a human wink.
They smile and nod back, returning to their assignments.
Raf completes his last assignment and caps his marker. He cranes his neck and looks up to the two bots and finds himself regretting how quickly he finished his work when he registers the peaceful, sleepy look on Ratchet's faceplate.
Maybe he can…
He uncaps the marker once again.
This time, he bunches his sleeve over his closed fist and uses the fabric to erase the equations, then starts to draw little stars and planets, constellations and Galaxy spirals with the marker.
With his free hand he traces the heartbeat line on Ratchet's armor. The tips of his fingers brushing where the two paint colors meet.
Out of the corner of Raf’s eyes he sees Ratchet's digit flick, seemingly in response to Raf’s touch.
The movement caught Jack’s notice, and he looks between the bot’s servo that he is seated next to and his own hand in confusion.
Raf clears his throat to gain Jack’s attention, and when the teen looks to him the younger human inclines his head towards Ratchet and whispers.
“Watch.”
This time the youngest flattens his hand to allow four fingertips to touch Ratchet's paint and drags his hand down in a petting-like motion that reminds Jack of how his mother would drag her nails down his arm to make shivers, though Raf is careful not to use his nails. He uses the pads of his fingers to erase lines through the drawings and stain his fingertips black.
Jack’s mental comparison seems to be more accurate than he had thought, because a shiver runs up Ratchet's back strut and his optics flicker.
Having felt Ratchet's shiver, Bulkhead looks over at the children curiously.
“How did you do that?” He asks.
Jack and Raf bring their fingers up to their lips in a shushing gesture and Miko finally looks up from her work.
“Is he? … Asleep?” She points down at the medic’s arm.
Bulkhead removes his servos from their position on the older bot’s shoulder plates and steps back to observe the scene.
“Recharging.” Bulkhead flashes his optics in awe, “how?”
Miko laughs, “guess doc-bot really did need a break.”
Jack shushes her and she sticks her tongue out.
“Huh…did you get all your homework done?”
Three nods of agreement and the sounds of markers clicking shut.
The wrecker, still in an amazed stupor just stares at the rise and fall of Ratchet's chest-plate as he in-vents.
“So…we should leave him to sleep? Or recharge, I mean.” Jack softly asks, already gathering his math packet, folding it back to the first page.
None of the children wait for an answer from Bulkhead before gathering their things and beginning their descent from the platform, understanding that Jack is really making a suggestion more than he is asking for guidance.
When they finally all touch the ground and near the exit of the room Bulkhead calls to them.
They turn their heads with raised eyebrows, thinking something was left forgotten.
“...thank you.”
The three children look at each other and shrug, not really sure what they're being thanked for.
“Sure, Bulk.” Miko winks and turns away. Jack vaguely acknowledges that she must be where Bulkhead had learned the gesture.
As the children leave, Bulkhead looks around the room for a small cloth, thinking Ratchet would appreciate coming out of recharge without his arms covered in human symbols.
Though, as he wipes away the human’s work, carefully watching Ratchet's expression for any sign of wakefulness, he wonders how to ask agent Fowler for more dry erase markers.
***
June Darby has been spending more and more time at the base.
So today, when she arrives at the base she walks in calmly and no one pays her any mind.
Maybe she received a mindless wave of a servo to acknowledge her presence, but she doesn't think to take note of it if she does.
Being here is just…normal now.
Normal enough to slip her shoes off and walk the concrete floors in only her socks. A significant improvement after being on her feet for her long shift.
She doesn't have any need to visit really, as all the children prefer to be transported home by the bots, so she doesn't have a good explanation for why or how she had come to be so comfortable here, but her presence is usually appreciated.
She thinks maybe she has just come to appreciate the bot’s presence too. As friends.
June has friends, sure.
Work friends.
But it's different talking to adults that she doesn't have to maintain some degree of professionalism around, even if they're alien adults.
This is why June scans the room with her eyes, looking for any available bot to share stories of her day with.
She finds her son with Arcee and Bumblebee, Arcee acting as a translator for Bee. She doesn't want to interrupt that. How rarely Bee gets the opportunity to communicate. She quietly leaves them, feeling pride at Jack for his efforts to understand.
Walking a bit further into the base still she finds no one. Only one place left to look.
To the med-bay it is then. At least she knows for sure Ratchet will be there.
She likes talking to Ratchet. Well, she likes talking at Ratchet. He often pretends to be too busy to listen, but he's never kicked her out and it's often obvious he actually is paying close attention to her words when he perks up at some story from the hospital.
Ha. Old gossip. Some things don't change, even across species. A doctor's infinite curiosity appears to be one of those universals.
“Oh! Nurse Darby.” She sees Bulkhead in the med-bay first, sitting on the med-berth. The medic is crouched on one knee with Bulkhead’s pede resting on his thigh.
“Hello, Bulkhead. Something wrong with your leg?” She tilts her head in at the two bots and Ratchet pauses his inspection of Bulkhead’s knee joint to answer for his patient.
“Frequent impact causes the joints to tighten up. Instead of coming to me to have them oiled, he thought it was a good idea to try to loosen them himself.” He breaks himself off to cover his intake with the back of a servo and yawn. At least that's what it looks like to June.
He turns his gaze from June to Bulkhead and addresses him next in a voice like one would speak to a child. “Tell Nurse Darby what happened next.”
The wrecker chuckles awkwardly, “I uh, knocked the joint out of alignment.”
“I believe the humans call it ‘dislocation’.” Ratchet clicks his glossa.
June winces, “are you in pain?”
Bulkhead shakes his servo in a so-so gesture and gives a half shrug. “Eh, not really.”
So, not exactly like a human’s dislocated joint, but a pretty good comparison.
She addresses Ratchet next, “How do you fix it?”
“Two options. Once I realign the joint, it will be initially loose. He can either stay off the leg for some time until his healing nanites tighten the cables back up, or I can tighten it myself now.”
“Does tightening it manually hurt? If not, it seems pretty obvious the better choice.” June quirks an eyebrow.
“I have been told it can be uncomfortable. Besides that, some patients of the past have told me that if Primus had given us the nanites, he would want us to use them.” His adds mockingly.
June isn’t sure what the Primus comment means, but wants to clarify one thing for sure, “But no pain.”
“Correct. No pain. What’ll it be, Bulkhead?”
“Go for it, Doc.”
“Nurse Darby? Can you oil Bulkhead’s other joint while I gather the necessary tools?” Ratchet is already turning away, not waiting for an answer.
June looks up at the sitting bot, to find him already looking at her with a servo outstretched to bring her up to the berth with him.
“Are you comfortable with that? Me assisting Ratchet?”
“I trust Ratchet’s judgement, and he trusts yours.” Bulkhead smiles as if letting her help him is the easiest thing in the world.
“Does he?” She tries very hard not to sound as surprised as she is but feels proud when Bulkhead nods to confirm.
“In that case…” June climbs over to Bulkhead’s other side and finds the oil easily and blinks at the unexpectedly small container the oil resides in. No wonder Ratchet passed the task off to her, she has no idea how he would have picked up the tiny bottle.
She tips some out into the cracks of Bulkhead’s plates and steps back cautiously when he flexes the joint a bit to allow the oil to drip deeper in the seams. He ex-vents and a satisfied smile appears on his faceplate. June laughs, “feel good?”
“Yes.” Is Bulkhead’s honest answer, then he seems to remember something.
“Nurse Darby? Can you do something else for me?”
“Of course.” she answers, though wary. Something about his tone spells mischief.
He reaches into a compartment June didn't know he had and pulls out a marker, held awkwardly in his massive servos and gives it to the human woman.
She blinks at it, “I don't understand.”
“I need you to test something for me. When you get the chance, can you draw on Ratchet?”
“...huh?” June tries her best not to make a face at what is an absurd request, and she wonders for a moment if her shift was longer than she thought. She couldn't have heard right.
Bulkhead, visibly unsure, looks around to ensure the two of them are alone before elaborating.
“Ratchet works hard-”
“So do you, Bulkhead.”
“Yes, but…how do I?... What Ratchet does for the team is sometimes more abstract? I'm not sure if that's the right word.”
“Mhm.” June tries to understand, she really does, but she's still holding the marker and that's throwing her off.
She places the marker in the pocket of her scrubs and nods to encourage the bot to continue.
“Me, and Bee, and Arcee, we go on scouting missions but when we get back, no one expects us to do more. We've done what we can for the day, whether we found energon or not.”
June thinks she's starting to see his point. Or at least one of them. “Like clocking out after work.”
The wrecker tips his helm to the side, confused at her comparison.
“Like when I leave the hospital for the day, I go home, and no one expects me to continue doing more nurse stuff.”
Bulkhead looks skeptically down at the knee she had oiled for him, and she laughs. “Good point, Bulk.”
He's quiet for a moment, thinking, “Ratchet doesn't go on scouting missions…so, sometimes he feels like he has to make work for himself. I don't think he knows that we know” Bulkhead looks in the direction Ratchet went, “…. he doesn't always recharge. He didn't last night. I want him to.”
“And somehow, me drawing on him with this-” she brings the marker back out of her pocket and brings it to her face trying to see if it's actually some strange sleep-inducing tech that is disguised as a dry erase marker, “will help?”
Bulkhead nods, “it will make more sense when you see it for yourself.”
At that moment, Ratchet re-enters the room holding two identical tools. Somewhat wrench-like but not quite.
He crouches low at Bulkhead's pedes once again, swiping a servo over his faceplate tiredly and June can see the dimness of his optics now that she is closer. “See what for herself?”
“How impressed you'll be with her work.” Bulkhead covers with an easy lie and bends the freshly oiled knee joint in demonstration.
Ratchet accepts the answer, quickly forgetting any suspicion he may have had once he is inspecting the joint.
A wave of red light scans over the leg and to June's surprise, his optics brighten, clearly truly impressed, as Bulkhead said he would be.
“Very thorough. Good work, Nurse Darby.”
She receives a very faint smile from the medic for her efforts and she straightens her scrubs awkwardly in an attempt to hide the marker from view.
“Ready Bulkhead?”
Bulkhead gives a very human thumbs up, but June speaks before Ratchet can begin.
“Can I watch?”
The medic stops all movement, tools held in his servos.
“Of course. In that case, allow me to explain this procedure.” He readies the tools, placing one on one side of the joint and connecting it to something inside Bulkhead's knee that June cannot see, but Bulkhead makes a strange expression at the feeling of it. Then the other tool is brought to the other side, left unconnected. Hovering just over the seam.
“The one I have in position will not move; it will just help me hold the joint still. This one-” he wiggles the unconnected tool. “- will be used to tighten the cables.”
“Seems simple enough.”
“It is.”
With that he focuses on the procedure. He holds the arm closest to her very still and makes small adjustments with the other. Now that she had been moved to stand on the berth instead of the floor, she is now eye level with Ratchet's arm and can see her reflection in the white paint.
Like a whiteboard.
It dawns on her that her opportunity to fulfill Bulkhead's request had just fallen into her lap.
June uncaps the marker and moves in for the kill, eager to know how Bulkhead thinks this will help.
Even if it doesn't, she's only being a good nurse by keeping the patient happy. That's right.
The smell of the ink hits her as she steps closer and the moment the chisel tip touches down onto Ratchet's paint, he stops his adjustments and stiffens.
She drags the marker down and the only things she thinks to do is write her own name in cursive, but it is drawn a bit shaky when Ratchet's frame shivers and it suddenly clicks.
How familiar.
She used to trace the alphabet on Jack's arms when he was small and refused sleep. Worked like a charm too.
Ratchet's wobbly voice pulls her from the memory, “Nurse Darby. What are you doing?”
A quick glance at Bulkhead's hopeful look decides June's answer for her. Yeah, no way she's stopping.
“Just writing something down.”
“Is that necessary?” Ratchet gives a weak glare and shivers again when June uses her hand to erase her name.
“Oh, yes. Very. Otherwise, I'll forget.” She starts to write down nonsensical reminders like ‘dinner with President at 5:00’ and ‘need to take pet Rock to dentist’.
Ratchet finishes Bulkhead's procedure, holding his arm still as possible and grumbles when she is still writing.
“Nearly done?” His optics dim dangerously close to off, and the plates of his armor relax.
“Sounds important Ratch. Best to let her finish up.” Bulkhead smiles and places his servos over his own lap, prepared to catch the medic's tipping helm.
June makes long, slow strokes with the marker and listens to the unusual whirring sound Ratchet is beginning to make. The whirring slows down and starts back up in small, sudden bursts. Like a machine powering up and down. Maybe that's exactly it.
He's fighting it.
June can be stubborn too.
She covers her hand with her sleeve, so she doesn't have to hear the sound of her nails on Ratchet's paint and, using the cloth, makes a scritching motion with her hand over the paint. She tries to reach as far as she can to cover as much surface as possible.
It pays off when the bot’s helm finally slumps into Bulkhead's waiting servos and lowered into the wrecker's lap.
“Doc?” Is the whispered question from Bulkhead.
“Ha. You did it. -” the bot tips his helm in the direction of the recharging medic. “-Thank you, Nurse Darby.”
“It's not a problem. I'm glad to help…” She watches Bulkhead trace Ratchet's shoulder seams, peacefully.
He draws invisible Cybertronians words onto the medic with the digits of one servo, but June would have no way of knowing the words even if they appeared.
The other servo, he extends to June to help her off the med-berth. She jumps off but pauses for a moment before making any sort of move to leave.
“Will you be okay like that?” she gestures with a hand to the unusual position Bulkhead is stuck in. Seated, with his pedes dangling off the med-berth while the recharging bot is slumped in a kneeling position with his helm rested in Bulkhead's lap. Though an odd position, they both managed to make it look comfortable.
“I'll move him in a bit.”
“...it's kind of you to worry about his health, Bulkhead.”
“What are teammates for?” Bulkhead smiles again, in a soft way. A way that makes June sad and calm and proud and reminds her that thousands of years of hardship had to happen to forge it.
“You should tell Optimus if he doesn't know. Ratchet should know better. He's a doctor, he's most useful when he's well rested.”
“Yeah…”
“Thank you for trusting me, Bulkhead.”
“Oh. Of course.”
Again. Like trusting her is the easiest thing to do.
June looks down at the marker, looks at Ratchet, looks at Bulkhead, and makes a decision.
“Can I keep this?” June smiles and holds the marker out.
After all, if Ratchet neglecting his own recharge is commonplace, she should be prepared to remedy that, otherwise, what kind of nurse would she be?
At Bulkhead's dazzling smile and strong “yes”, June uncaps the marker a final time and writes a note on her hand.
‘buy more markers. multi-color pack.’