Work Text:
Frag it.
He must admit privately to himself that he surely must have an all time low to be repairing offline and ready for the scrap Decepticon junk piles that had been brought to him and Prime by three of their dearest Autobot comrades. Requesting that he be the one to repair it and reignite the cold spark chamber. With their words that this one 'Con was a surviving creation of theirs.
Or had been a surviving creation before it had offlined.
How ridiculously ludicrous. To think that he would willingly repair a offline Decepticon, no matter who asked. But Prime just looked at him and ordered him to do it.
*Flashback*
"I want to give them so a piece of their family back to them that the war has taken from them. Grant them this small request, Ratchet."
"As you command, my Prime. Hound, place the little fragger here on the berth and then all of you leave me to work in peace."
The three of them had shared a hopeful glance between them, before Hound did as he had ordered and then they left with Prime following at a calm pace behind them and the door shut behind them.
Leaving him to work alone.
*Flashback*
He stared down at the small former 'Con that lay on his repair berth, all he needed to do now was reignite the spark chamber, glancing at the other occupant, their Prime was waiting for the instruction to recall the 'Con's spark with the Matrix. They locked optics and he nodded slightly before turning away to make a final adjustment and repair.
There was a flash of light letting him that something had happened. And then Prime spoke to him quietly.
"Ratchet, it is done. We must hurry before it is gone again."
"Ready here, Prime."
Prime moved slowly to stand beside him and he kept some of his sensors on the taller mech as he gently moved the glowing spark to the open spark chamber, watching together as the chamber sealed its quietly around the spark. Watching as the once broken frame came online and its optics locked onto them.
"Designation?"
"Designation: Pretender. What am I doing here?"
"You should be grateful that you have creators who care enough to search you out."
"Ratchet. Pretender, activate your cloaking technology."
He snorted rudely grumbling, keeping his scanners on them both as he cleaned his tools, prepping the berth for standby mode unless it was needed for some other fool stupid enough to harm themselves. Yes, he had definitely hit an all time low when he had to repair Decepticons - rather former Decepticons as it would seem.
"Activating technology command interface."
"Ratchet?"