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“I need to remind you once more that your presence on the Lost Light is conditional on you attending these sessions and actively participating,” Rung says, trying very hard to keep his frustration out of his voice.
“I assure you, I’m entirely aware,” Megatron replies. He’s sitting like a mech in command of the room, back ramrod straight. If he would relax, they might actually get somewhere.
“Alright then.” Rung briefly consults his notes, trying to think of something to ask that might prompt a conversation. Something, anything just to get him talking.
“So, what do you want to talk about now, doctor?” Megatron asks, voice smooth and level.
“We’re running a bit short on time, unfortunately, so I hesitate to begin anything entirely new,” Rung says. “Might I suggest that we brainstorm ways I might make you feel more comfortable in our sessions?”
“My apologies, doctor, but I am not going to be comfortable discussing the private details of my life and thoughts with any Autobot that Optimus thinks is a suitable candidate.” Megatron glances at the clock up on the wall. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to leave to make it to my shift.”
Rung wants to protest, but Megatron isn’t technically wrong. It’s a a couple minutes early, but not unreasonably so. He manages a smile.
“Yes, of course. We wouldn’t want you to be late. I’ll see you for our next session.” Rung sets his datapad down and watches Megatron go.
Another failure.
Rung likes to think that he is quite capable of dealing with difficult and reticent patients. He works with Whirl, for Primus’ sake, and they’re actually making progress. How can he be having better luck talking Whirl out of his destructive habits than getting Megatron to talk to him about literally anything? Being shot by Swerve was more straightforward than this.
With Megatron gone and no other patients for the rest of the day, Rung can set aside his patient files and head out in search of some advice, while at the same time checking on another patient.
Efficiency.
Ratchet should be getting off-shift and will hopefully be available for a drink and a talk. Also, Ratchet needs to stop working and let First Aid take over.
When he arrives at the medbay, Ratchet is, as expected, still working.
“Your shift is over,” Rung says in greeting. He nods to an obviously-frustrated First Aid, who is trying and failing to not look like he’s ready to knock Ratchet into stasis.
“Yeah, yeah, I heard you. Give me a minute. I’m almost done with this.” Ratchet says absently. Rung takes a seat across from Ratchet. There are only a couple datapads left in the stack he’s working on, so Rung should be able to pry him away soon.
“I was hoping to get your advice,” Rung says when it looks like Ratchet is reaching the end of his work.
“Advice?” Ratchet finally looks up from his work.
“Yes. I was hoping to speak to you, perhaps privately?” Rung suggests.
Ratchet glances over at First Aid, who suddenly does his best to look busy.
“Let’s go to my hab. I need a drink.”
“After you.” Rung follows Ratchet out of the medbay.
“So, who are we talking about?” Ratchet asks as they walk.
“You know I can’t give you names of my patients, Ratchet.”
“Your patients are everyone on this ship. Whoever it is, they’re my patient too,” Ratchet says. “Are you asking me for advice as a friend or as a medical professional?”
“Both?” Rung suggests. But then they’ve thankfully reached Ratchet’s hab. Ratchet heads directly to a cabinet and throws it open.
“Drink?” Ratchet offers, holding out a dangerously glowing cube.
“No, thank you.” Rung takes a seat.
“Suit yourself. So you won’t tell me who it is.” Ratchet sits with a groan, taking an overly-large gulp of his drink. “Well, you’ve got a few problem patients, but I thought you had them in hand already.”
“So did I,” Rung admits, “but I’ve got a new challenge.”
“New challenge? Most of your patient list is pretty consistent. Except for...oh, really? Megatron isn’t an easy patient? How surprising.”
“Ratchet!” Rung objects.
“Well, he’s not exactly known for being cooperative and easygoing. It’s not a huge leap, Rung.” Ratchet shrugs a little. “So what’s the problem, aside from the obvious fact that you’re attempting to counsel a former genocidal warlord?”
“He doesn’t trust me,” Rung admits.
“He doesn’t trust anyone.”
“He needs to trust me if we’re to progress.”
“Give him time. Let him talk to other mechs that talk to you. And if he keeps not cooperating, report him to Magnus.”
“You know if I do that, he’ll never trust me.” Rung frowns a little.
“Well, fair enough. Just think about it.” Ratchet looks down into his drink. “Or I could talk to him.”
“You? I don’t...” Rung hesitates. “It seems like a violation of his privacy. As does most of this conversation.” He buries his face in his hands.
“Let me talk to him. I think I can get through to him.”
Rung sighs heavily. “I’m not really sure about this.”
“Trust me. Have I ever steered you wrong?” Ratchet claps Rung on the shoulder.
“Alright. Give it a try, but please be careful,” Rung frets.
“Don’t worry. He’s my patient too.” Ratchet gives Rung a rather more genuine smile.
“Thank you.” Rung relaxes a little. “If you think it’ll help.”
Ratchet raises his cube in a salute before swallowing it all in one gulp.
~~**~~
Adjusting to the Lost Light is indeed a major change. Megatron likes to think he’s handling it well. He has the ship running more efficiently, and he’s starting to work passably well with Ultra Magnus and Rodimus.
Well.
As well as anyone can work with Rodimus.
Maybe Rung will accept complaining about Rodimus as providing intimate details of his life.
“Hey, Megatron. I want to talk to you about something. Captain.” The title is clearly added as an afterthought, and a begrudging one at that. Megatron sighs and turns to greet his apparent visitor on the bridge.
“Yes, Ratchet? How can I help you?”
“Come talk to me. In my office.”
“Is this an urgent matter?” Megatron asks. He does have several matters he was hoping to attend to this shift.
“No, I’ve just decided to come to the bridge during your shift to ask you into my office to discuss a non-urgent matter.” Ratchet is giving Megatron the look that Megatron has seen him give Rodimus at his most obtuse.
Megatron sighs. “Ultra Magnus, I’m leaving you the bridge,” Megatron calls. Ultra Magnus nods and returns to his work.
Megatron follows Ratchet to the medbay. The medic seems determined to not say a word until they reach his office, so it’s likely about some kind of medical matter. Ratchet closes both the door to the medbay and then the door to his office before collapsing into his chair.
“Have a seat.” Ratchet gestures at the chair across from his desk. “Let’s talk.”
Megatron cautiously obeys. “What about?”
“You, actually.” Ratchet pulls a bottle and a glass out of his desk and pours himself a full glass. “Don’t tell First Aid I have this in here. He’ll fuss. But I wanted to talk about your sessions with Rung.”
Megatron stares. “My sessions with Rung are, I believe, none of your business and also confidential.”
“I’m the only medical professional onboard for him to consult with, and you’re also my patient.” Ratchet takes a long drink. “So I offered to talk to you.”
“I don’t think that’s professional,” Megatron says slowly. “Also, I’m on shift.”
“Yes, and I’m the CMO so I’m overruling you,” Ratchet says, “and believe me, Rung didn’t want to tell me who his difficult patient was, but it wasn’t exactly hard to figure out. He was telling me you don’t trust him enough to talk to him.”
“Well, I certainly don’t now.” Megatron shifts uneasily.
“He hasn’t told me anything else about you or any other patient, don’t worry. Rung takes his oath more seriously than almost any other mech I’ve ever known.” Ratchet sighs and takes another drink.
“More seriously than you?” Megatron asks. Ratchet’s face clouds a little.
“Rung has never used a weapon in his existence. He’s treated anyone he can, ‘Bot or ‘Con. I don’t know if you’ve heard about his encounter with Fortress Maximus, but Rung was shot in the head and still prioritized Fort Max’s recovery above his own survival.”
Megatron isn’t any less uncomfortable. This isn’t exactly a discussion he wanted to have with anyone on this ship.
“Okay, look. I don’t expect you to trust any ‘Bots. But this war fucked us all up, even you and you should talk to someone about it. Your only option for a non-biased ear on this ship is Rung.”
Megatron sits silently for a long moment. Ratchet isn’t wrong, technically, but the thought of spilling all his deepest, darkest secrets to an Autobot he barely knows is terrifying. Ratchet sighs heavily.
“Rung can’t force you to talk to him and neither can I. No one can. But if you don’t talk to him, eventually he’s going to have to report it to Ultra Magnus and you’ll be removed as Captain. The ship can’t afford that. You want to make amends? Don’t leave this crew with Rodimus as the only captain.”
Megatron nods. “I heard about what happened.”
Ratchet’s mouth twists in a bitter frown. “Then you know what we’d be dealing with without you.” He looks down at his apparently forgotten drink. “And you have been a good captain since you came aboard.”
“Thank you,” Megatron says, honestly surprised by the compliment.
“I’ve served with a lot of mechs. I know a good captain.” Ratchet sighs heavily. “And look, as your doctor, I’m going to advise you to talk to Rung. You’re not a young mech. Your spark has endured a lot of stress over your lifetime. That adds up. Better not to have emotional stress piling on. Whatever you need to do to figure yourself out, do it. It’ll help.” Ratchet drains his drink. “Alright, that’s all I wanted you for. You can go back to the bridge.”
“Thank you for that, I suppose.” Megatron stands. Ratchet is already wrapped up again in his work and doesn’t look up. Megatron shakes his head and returns to the bridge.
~~**~~
His next appointment with Rung comes sooner than he might have otherwise wanted. Still, Ratchet wasn’t wrong about anything he said.
“Have you thought anymore about the end of our last session?” Rung asks mildly, after the usual round of polite greetings.
“I have.”
Rung smiles. “Any thoughts you’d care to share?”
“Yes. You asked me what I would need in order to feel comfortable talking to you and I thought about it. So now I have to ask--what are your thoughts on mnemosurgery?”
Rung nods encouragingly. “I’m glad you’ve been thinking about what you need. As for my answer...mnemosurgery is a complicated matter. I am not capable of performing it myself, certainly. I never wanted to receive the modifications. I also found it to be overly used pre-war. Mnemosurgery in general should be an absolute last resort. I know I had colleagues who thought differently, but I didn’t see a daily use for it. Why do you ask?”
“I have had...unfortunate experiences with it myself. Did you know about something called the New Institute that existed before the war?” Megatron watches Rung’s face intently, searching for any deception.
Instead, Rung’s slight frown deepens. “Yes, I did know of it. I was never formally affiliated, but the activities of the New Institute were concerning enough that a law was passed to regulate the use of mnemosurgery.”
Megatron considers his next words very carefully. “I was...held captive by members of the New Institute, briefly, until a doctor came to put a halt to the proceedings and I then escaped.”
“A doctor came to...” Rung falls quiet. “A doctor would have had to originally sign off on the procedure and supervise its implementation. There would be no reason to call a halt to...” Rung looks down at his clipboard. “There was only one procedure I knew of as it was happening, and it was when I was telling Froid that the law had changed...” Rung shrugs a little. “Then there was some kind of energy surge and the facility was evacuated.”
Megatron stares. “You...I escaped after some kind of energy surge. It was you. You stopped them from doing the surgery.”
“I had no idea. I never saw the patient file. I did wonder what had become of that patient.” Rung’s frown starts to slide into a smile.
Megatron laughs a little. “I suppose we wanted to know what would make me comfortable talking to you.”
Rung adjusts his glasses. “I suppose we did.”
“Then we can count today as a success?” Megatron leans back in his chair.
“We certainly can.” Rung’s smile is wide and earnestly happy, his datapad set aside entirely. “And I’m grateful for it.”
“I am as well,” Megatron says, and finds, to his surprise, that he means it.