Chapter Text
When Ratchet rose early out of his berth, he couldn’t tell you how different the cycle was going to be compared to what he had planned. It was his first day at the clinic, so he would be introducing himself to staff members and navigating the clinic.
He got up and started his routine. His habsuite was full of datapads as he studied for his certification. It was tidied up leading to this cycle, but some datapads still laid haphazardly in piles around the room. He carefully navigated through his piles to the connected washrack.
In the need of new housing for the newly cogged, Optimus procured some land to develop the dorms that were close to training grounds and seminars. It was nice. There were singles for those who wanted their privacy and triples for those who weren’t used to being alone after the mining barracks. The rooms were well adjusted to fit their new frames after having it built with experienced architects and engineers.
There was still a community within the complex until they wanted to explore more of what Iacon could offer. Sometimes, they would have group outings or go partying.
As Ratchet finished his routine, he stuffed a few more datapads into his subspace. He exited his habsuite and headed to the communal fuel hall.
Ratchet double checked his ID and the directions in his HUD. He greeted B-127 as the talkative bot passed by with his own cube of energon.
“Good luck today, Ratchet! Damn you’re looking great, too! Did you put on new polish for today?” B-127 smiled and waved as he skipped past Ratchet. The yellow bot already had a half-finished cube in his servos as he probably headed to Optimus’ office.
Ratchet gave a small smile and wave to the parting bot. What an enthusiastic bot. As he continued down the hallway, Ratchet did wish he could talk to Orion Optimus before he left the complex. However, Optimus was probably busy and not getting any recharge from pulling an all-nighter. He better remind that fragger to recharge or so help him Primus.
When they were still cogless miners, Ratchet only had scrap to work with. Most of the tools were welded and remade thanks to Wheeljack. That was only possible with Optimus Orion procuring some outdated datapads on medicine from… well it wasn’t important where. Not to mention, D-16… he was good at sneaking away certain materials from the mines when Darkwing wasn’t around.
Without them, Ratchet probably wouldn’t have been able to save as many with what came in their rudimentary first-aid kit. There was only so much that duct tape and steel bars could be used for until the miner went into debt to pay for a refurbished part. A helm injury would be their end unless Ratchet was able to weld a patch onto it in time.
This time around, Ratchet would be able to do more than pray his handiwork was barely enough. This time, he had more than enough resources to be a true medic. Although, he knew that his friends would say otherwise. They would say he was always a medic. He saved them after all, but it wasn’t enough.
Sometimes, Ratchet wondered how he even became the mining sector’s de facto medic. It just seemed like little bits of medical knowledge stuck in his logic module a lot easier than other pieces of info, which sped up the process in ordering medical supplies for the teams.
As he snaked through the line for energon, Ratchet looked around the cafeteria. This morning was bustling with bots as they got their breakfast and took a seat or ran out the door. Many of them were at the stage of internships. Honestly, Ratchet was just relieved to get into his program.
After Ratchet finished the socialization integration programming, he sent out application after application for different programs to shadow and get clinical hours. For a time, there was radio silence. Ratchet thought he had hit a wall when he heard nothing back for orbital cycles.
Other bots tried their best to cheer him up– “It will be okay!”, “There’s no reason for them to not take you in!”, “It’s just a waiting game. You know how the world is right now.”
Ratchet would give a tight smile, but the pang in his spark still remained. Was he doing this all wrong? Did he miss a step along the way? He watched as other bots from medicine to construction celebrated and rolled out to this new part of their lives while he was stuck in the dorms waiting for a response.
When the interview email finally came from Iacon Premier Hospital, Ratchet could only cover his intake as his EM field flared with pure ecstasy and relief that he got into one of the programs! He sent a picture of the email to all of his friends with a simple message, “I have an interview”.
The congratulations flooded in and he sped through the interview process despite having a raging helmache the klik before the start of the remote interview. The next decacyle, Ratchet received his acceptance email.
Now, he was on the road heading to the hospital for his first cycle. Ratchet was told that he would be assigned to a doctor when he arrived. He hoped he did his job justice.