Archive of Our Own

"Smokescreen!"

"Smokescreen!"

"Smokescreen!"

Voices swirled around above Smokescreen's head, garbled and distorted, as if he was trying to listen to them through multiple doors, or from underwater.

He groaned, optics flickering as his vision returned to him, the darkness giving way to a sea of deeply concerned faces, human and Autobot alike staring down at him, and the ceiling above.

What, what had happened? He remembered talking to Jack and then, nothing, just voices suddenly above him. How did he get to the ground? WHY was he on the ground?

He blinked a few times before groaning and covering his face with one hand. Ohh his head hurt something bad, like someone had been using it to play Lob Ball. Not only that but the whole world was spinning around him, it was horribly disorienting.

"Did someone get the number of that 'Bot?" he asked, keeping one hand over his eyes as he tried to sit up.

"Smokescreen, can you hear me?" the familiar voice of the doctor broke through the sea of other voices as a hand settled on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I hear you doc," he said, lowering his hand as he looked around again. The world was still spinning, but not as violently as before. More like it was constantly tilting to one side.

Ratchet crouched down in front of him, optics flickering in concern as he looked the young Autobot over. "Smokescreen, I'm going to ask you a few simple questions, alright?"

Smokescreen nodded with a mumbled 'uh huh'.

And simple questions they were, such as his name, who he was, who the leader of the Autobots was, if Smokescreen knew where he was, how many fingers was the medic holding up and so on. And yet, with each answer he gave Ratchet seemed more and more distressed, frown on his face deepening as time went on. Which made no sense as he got all of them right. Why was he so upset?

"This is far worse than I thought," said the medic as he stood up. "Help me get him onto the table so I can run some scans and diagnostics."

What, worse? What was wrong? Aside from the pounding in his head and the sickening, dizzying sensation, he felt fine. Smokescreen tried to stand up, he didn't need any help, and almost immediately pitched hard to the right, nearly falling face first into the floor. The only thing that stopped him from kissing dirt was a pair of hands that caught him.

"Easy there Smokescreen." Gently, Optimus lead him over to the diagnostics table, a feat that felt so much harder than it realistically should have. Every step Smokescreen took made the world feel like it was pitching from one side to the other, like he was on a violently rocking vessel, not the sturdy surface of the earth.

He dropped back onto the table with a thud, holding his head in his hands.

What in Primus' name was happening to him?

While Smokescreen had thought what he was saying made perfect sense, as it did in his head, what actually came out from his audio processor was a string of gibberish.

When Ratchet had asked him for his name, it's wasn't 'Smokescreen' that came out of his mouth. It was 'polluted review processes'. When he asked him how many fingers he was holding up, he didn't answer 'three' but 'triangle'. It was, in Miko's words "a word salad". Ratchet wasn't sure what a 'salad' was, but it was a jumble of words that made no sense what so ever.

He'd expected some amount of disorientation, given that Smokescreen was now sporting a rather sizable dent on the back of his head, courtesy of a misaimed ball of scrap metal thrown by Wheeljack. To his credit, he hadn't been aiming AT the bot, he'd been aiming at Bulkhead. Except he missed, overshot his target and beaned Smokescreen while his back was turned.

On top of that, the sudden blow and abrupt loss of consciousness caused Smokescreen to fall. Over the edge of scaffold railing that was behind him and to the ground below.

Between that and being out for nearly 30 minutes, him being disoriented was no surprise, in fact he would have been more surprised had Smokescreen not been affected in some way. But this? It was extremely concerning. With the gibberish he was spouting, it was hard to tell if Smokescreen actually understood what anyone was saying or not.

"Just lay there and try not to move," said Ratchet, further reclining the table. Given the state he was in, he didn't want to have to induce any kind of stasis to examine him, in this state it might make him worse.

Smokescreen groaned as he lay down, hopefully someone soon would tell him what was going on. He closed his eyes, and for a little bit, the spinning in his head seemed to stop and calm down.

He lay there quietly, listening to the soft beeps and whirs of the machines around him and the soft tapping of fingers on a keyboard.

Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, a hand touched his shoulder and Smokescreen opened his optics to see Ratchet leaning over him.

"Good, you're still awake." Smokescreen opened his mouth to speak but the doctor held a hand up as he sat up. "Ah-ah, don't speak, just listen. If you can understand me, I need you to nod your head for me."

Smokescreen gave him a quizzical look, but nodded slowly.

"That makes this a bit easier then. I will try to explain this in as simple terms as I can. You took a major blow to the head and it scrambled your systems. You have, what we call, a concussion."

Oh. Smokescreen knew what that was, even if he'd never had one before. Was that why his head hurt so much, cause something had hit him? But he wasn't even in combat, he was in the base, so how could that happen?

"Your circuits are scrambled and not working properly. Nothing seems to have been knocked loose, so it should go away over time, but until that point, you are to remain in the base." He turned to Optimus and shook his head. "I know we're already short on man power as it is, but Smokescreen is in no shape to be doing anything other than resting. The symptoms should pass in a few days but..." He sighed heavily, shaking his head again. "I'm taking him off of active duty until then."

Smokescreen wanted to protest, being stuck at the base and not being allowed in the field sounded like hell. But given how ill he felt just trying to stand, he really couldn't protest. If he couldn't even stand up, what good was he?

But, the doc had said he should be fine in a few days right? He could handle a few days stuck inside.

Hopefully.

Smokescreen could not, in fact, handle a few days stuck inside. Perhaps if he could actually talk it wouldn't have been as much of a problem, but he couldn't. At least not properly. Part of his circuits being scrambled meant that what came out of his mouth was NOT what he was intending to say, meaning no one could understand anything he said. Bumblebee was easier to understand and HE only spoke in beeps.

His lack of coordination meant he also couldn't do much anyways, not without risking damage to himself or whatever he was doing. He couldn't even stack boxes! It sucked.

The extreme vertigo seemed to lessen after the first day, though he still felt very off kilter when walking and had to grab onto anything and everything to stay steady. But in its place was new, somehow even more annoying issue. A frequent buzzing, grinding noise inside his head, as if it was full of Scraplets. It wasn't even an all the time thing either, the noise would come and go at seemingly random intervals.

"Just sit still so I can run some diagnostics," said Ratchet as Smokescreen took his place on the medical table, a routine he'd been doing since getting whacked on the head. Ratchet said it was so he could monitor his progress. Smokescreen wasn't sure WHAT progress exactly because, aside from being able to mostly stand and walk without getting sick or falling over, he was still scrambled up. He still couldn't talk right, seemingly randoms words being spit out by his processors every time he did. He wasn't any worse, but he also didn't seem to be getting better either.

"Well, your optics are functioning correctly at least," said Ratchet, setting down the light he'd been holding before making some notes on the computer. "Let's see your reflexes."

Reflex checking, Smokescreen was positive this was just an excuse used by doctors to allow them to hit patients without repercussion.

"Hmm, a little slow on the reflexes and they're a bit uncoordinated, but they could be worse," mused Ratchet, making more notes.

Smokescreen just groaned as he sat there. "I am so BORED of this!" he said, throwing his arms up in the air.

Unfortunately all that Ratchet heard was 'personal letter becomes spiritless!'.

Grumbling, Smokescreen hefted himself off the table, keeping one hand on it for balance, the other resting against his head. There it was again, that horrible, awful buzzing noise. But, Ratchet hadn't found anything on his scans, so it had to be a side effect of everything. And how would he even tell him about it anyways?

He grumbled as he ambled across the floor, he believed the humans called this 'cabin fever'. While he was now allowed to do basic tasks, there was only so much cleaning and organizing he could do before there was no more to be done, and he could only watch Ratchet while he tinkered and built things. And not being able to talk properly made things even worse, he might as well have been mute. Even Bee couldn't understand him!

Honestly, if he could have slept till he was recovered he would have, but there was no way the doc was gonna let that slide. He almost missed his days working as a guard in the Hall of Records alongside Alpha Trion. As mind numbing as the job was at times, at least he had been doing something with his time, he'd even learned a little bit about filing, even if that wasn't actually in his job description.

As he passed by Ratchet he paused and looked at the screen that the bot was currently focused on. That was HIS face on the screen, which meant this had to be about him.

"Can I help you with something?" asked Ratchet, not even turning to look at him. Oops, so much for stealth.

Wordlessly, Smokescreen tapped a fingertip on the screen.

"This? It's your medical file. I was just updating it with the results from your latest diagnostic. Everyone here has one. Well, every bot does. I wouldn't know where to begin with the humans." He shook his head and Smokescreen swore he heard a small chuckle escape the medic.

Suddenly Smokescreen had so many questions. What was in the files, how often were they updated? What did they look like? What else was in them? This was by far the most interesting thing he'd found in the last few cycles, as it was something new.

Oh Primus, he was getting bored if FILES were suddenly exciting to him. Or he was losing his mind. One of the two. Or both.

"Grab a seat, before you fall over," said Ratchet. "You're listing to the side again and you don't need any more head trauma."

Smokescreen hadn't even realized that he'd begin to tilt to one side again, this time leaning ever so slightly to the right. Following Ratchet's instructions, he grabbed a stool and dragged it over. If he couldn't go out and fight, or even practise, maybe he could at least learn what was wrong with him, beyond the concussion.

"Now, was there something you wanted to know?" asked Ratchet.

"At this point, anything!" said Smokescreen, gesturing with his hands at the screen. The word 'things' came out of his mouth on repeat until he stopped talking.

"That at least actually sounded like a sensible answer," said Ratchet. "Well, we have time to burn till the team comes back," he tapped a small screen, showing the current life signatures of the on-world Autobots, all of which were still functioning and online. "And it is your file, so you have every right to know." As he spoke he tapped away at the computer, pulling up what seemed to be more files. "These are all your previous health reports, from your regular check ups, before your...accident." He indicated to the reports on the screen, all of which indeed had Smokescreen's name on them. He wasn't sure what most of the stuff meant, but it all looked, more or less the same. There was some variance in the numbers but it was never anything too big.

"And this," Ratchet indicated to a new report on screen, "is the report made after your accident."

Oh. Oh those numbers looked really bad. They had gone from being in the same range to being, wildly out of it, to the point they were now coloured red. And the graphs on screen weren't much better, with spikes and dips in places they had not been before.

"Can you see now why I was so worried?"

Smokescreen nodded. Even if he didn't know what the numbers meant exactly, he could tell the sudden change in them couldn't be good.

"Smokescreen, do you know why I asked those simple questions after you took that blow to the head?" asked Ratchet.

Smokescreen tapped his chin thoughtfully. He assumed it was to check if he was coherent and functioning properly. He gave the side of his head a tap with a finger.

"Yes, partially that. It is to check that things are functioning correctly, that you can still hear or speak. But it's also to check your memory. Are you able to recall who you are, where you are? While your speech seems to be impaired, your memory is functioning just fine, which is a good sign. It's not uncommon for memory loss to accompany severe damage, especially to the head." Ratchet shook his head with a sigh. "Sometimes it's just temporary, but it's when it doesn't fix itself that it becomes a problem. Memory issues are the most difficult to fix. Assuming you even can. If the files are corrupted and gone well, there's very little you can do."

Smokescreen shuddered at the thought. Losing his memory, even for a short time, sounded terrifying.

"Luckily, your memory function doesn't appear to be impaired. Thank the Allspark for small miracles."

About the only thing Smokescreen couldn't remember was what had actually happened and the moments preceding it, but that was apparently very normal in regards to head trauma according to Ratchet. The only reason he even knew what had happened was because Ratchet and the others had filled him later.

"Fix...bot?" asked Smokescreen, pointing at himself, then at the screen.

"Well, that's the idea. But the fact that your speech processors are still scrambled worries me. It should have repaired itself by now, especially after powering down multiple times."

Smokescreen gripped his knees tightly, back fins twitching in frustration. It was rather unsettling that he still couldn't speak right, even though Ratchet had said it would resolve itself in a few cycles time.

A familiar three tone beeping sound rang out, followed by Optimus' voice crackling over the comms. "Ratchet, if you could ground bridge us back to base please."

"Optimus! Is everything alright?"

"Everything is fine. The mission was a dead end. Nothing here but human artefacts."

"Alright, one ground bridge coming up." He turned to Smokescreen and pointed at him. "You, stay put and don't touch anything while I ground bridge the team back."

Smokescreen gave a quick 'yes sir' type salute and Ratchet shook his head before heading over to the ground bridge control panel.

With Ratchet busy, Smokescreen turned back to the reports on screen, his reports. He may not have been able to understand what most of it meant, but it was interesting to see how the numbers changed drastically between normal and abnormal. And the graphs, it seemed sharp and sudden dips and peaks were not a good thing, it should stay as even as possible or with gradual rises and falls. There were some things he could read though, things about fluid and lubricant levels, those at least seemed normal on all his scans. Which they should have been, he did make sure to keep his joints well oiled and ready to go and a hit to the head wasn't gonna alter that.

Behind him, the ground bridge whirred to life with a telltale green-blue light and moments later the remaining Autobots filed into the base through the vortex, a bit dirty and scuffed up but really no worse for wear.

Smokescreen turned around slightly on his stool to watch as Ratchet gave them the once over. He'd never really thought about how much work the medic actually did for them, how much work he did in general. At a first glance, from someone out in the field a lot, it seemed like the only things Ratchet did was to look after the base while they were gone, operate the ground bridge and of course patch them up. But, if what was on the screen and what he'd seen over the last few days was any indication, there was so much more to it than that, even on the doctor front. He really did work hard didn't he? How, when did he even find time to sleep?

Ratchet sighed heavily as he poured over Smokescreen's diagnostic reports and physical evaluations. Physically, outwardly, he seemed fine, aside from the dent on his cranium that was still being worked out. The problem was something internal. By all accounts, he shouldn't have still been wobbling and speaking nonsense, and yet he was.

"Is everything alright old friend?" asked Optimus.

Everyone else had either gone home (the humans) or turned in for the night, except for Ratchet and, as it seemed, Optimus.

"I'm worried about Smokescreen. While he's not necessarily getting worse, he's not getting better either and I am concerned that the problem may be something physically wrong with his processors," said Ratchet. "Something may have been knocked loose or damaged after all and it's not showing up on any scans, something I would need to-to operate to find and fix."

"You sound worried."

"Of course I am! That kind of operation is incredibly delicate, and I'm already ill equipped as it is. One wrong move and the damage that's already there could be irreparable, or he could go offline, permanently." He put his head in his hands. "I know I need to approach him about this, but I'm worried."

A hand came down on his shoulder he looked up slightly. "I have every faith in you Ratchet and your abilities. I'm sure you will make the decision that is best for Smokescreen."

"I hope you're right Optimus. I hope you're right."

"In the meantime, get some rest. Perhaps a clear head in the morning will help you make your decision."

Despite being the last in the base to power down for the night, Ratchet was also the first one up when morning rolled around, taking the time to savour the peace and quiet before it was inevitably broken. It also allowed him a chance to be alone with his thoughts, in this case, how best to approach Smokescreen about the inevitable surgery on his head that he was going to have to do.

The next bot up after him was Optimus, which was pretty much par for the course. He was always up before everyone. Everyone aside from Ratchet at least. Oh he'd tried to get up before him, it had yet to work.

A few mini cycles after him, the rest of the team would roll out of their bunks to the rest of the hangar that was their base and peace and quiet would be no more until evening fell. Especially if the humans were around.

As Ratchet set up the computer to run diagnostics, he looked around the room and frowned. Smokescreen was nowhere to be seen, even though he should have already been there and waiting for the regularly scheduled tests.

He sighed as he headed towards the bunks, which were in reality glorified parking garages. Someone must have decided to sleep in today. Well no matter, it wasn't exactly a difficult matter to drag him from slumber.

"Alright Smokescreen, you've slept long enough, it's time for your daily physical," he called out as he made his way to Smokescreen's sleeping quarters. "Smokescreen?" A movement caught his sensors, movement from rather close to the floor and from something big.

"T-twister, whirlpool, spiral, spinning, spinning, spinning." Smokescreen's voice crackled out, from where he was collapsed on the floor just outside the door to his quarters. He was down on his knees, one hand digging into the wall, the other gripping his head. It looked as if he'd been crawling across the floor from his bunk.

"Smokescreen!" Ratchet cleared the space between them in only a few strides, optics wide in worry. "Smokescreen, are you alright? What's wrong?"

Smokescreen looked up at him, optics wide and panicked as they flickered. "H-help. Helphelphelp." The pitch and tone of his jumped all over the place, though the panic was clear all the same.

Scrap, this was bad.

"Optimus! Arcee! Bumblebee! I need help out here right away!" yelled Ratchet. "And get med bay ready." It looks like the operation has no longer become optional.

Carefully he moved Smokescreen's hand from his head, trying to get a better look at him, to figure out what was going on. As Ratchet moved the hand from his head he froze. The side of his head and his hand was wet. A clear, shiny fluid was trickling down through cracks in his face plates and the side of his head plate. It wasn't energon, it wasn't that tell tale bright blue, nor did it look like any of the lubricants or fluids that immediately sprung to mind. Coolant perhaps? It was the wrong colour for that too but with how fast his internal fans were whirring that was always a possibility as he was probably using a lot of it up.

"Ratchet, what seems to be the problem?" asked Optimus as he made his way towards them.

"It's Smokescreen, help me get him onto the table. That thing we talked about last night? I don't think I have a choice now."

Between Ratchet and Optimus, they hauled Smokescreen across the hangar, Arcee and Bee hurriedly clearing space for the patient and for Ratchet to work.

All the while, Smokescreen could only manage was weakened, pitiful sounding 'help' on repeat.

"Just hold on Smokescreen, we're going to get to the bottom of this."

Smokescreen had no idea what was happening to him. When he'd returned to his quarters for the night to rest he'd felt fine, or as fine as he had been given his state. When he'd woken up in the morning though, that was a different story. He was greeted by the worst crackly, static sound in his auditory sensors so far, and when he went to stand up was immediately on the ground, unable to keep his balance, everything spinning so much worse than before. Somehow, overnight, he'd gotten worse! And then, while clutching his head in his hands, he felt fluid leaking down the side of his face plate. Great, that was just what he needed, a leak!

Clutching his head he staggered out the door, practically crawling on the ground on all fours, the only way to keep himself from face planting into the ground. He hadn't gotten far when he heard Ratchet's voice calling out, calling for him. He tried to call back, to explain that he couldn't walk because the world was spinning around him, that something was wrong.

Hands grasped at him and voices called out around him, muffled and distorted by the static in his head. He felt himself lifted off the ground, carried across the hangar and to the medical area.

He finally came to rest on a bed, or maybe a chair, no probably the medical table, chest first, arms hanging at his sides and chin resting on the top edge of it, as if he were laying on it backwards.

"Smokescreen, if you can understand me, I'm going to put you into a temporary stasis. I believe there is damage to your internal processors and systems, and I need to operate to find out what is wrong," said Ratchet. "Alright?"

Smokescreen closed his eyes with a groan, operate huh? Well it couldn't make his situation any worse than it was right? He tried to speak but it felt like his mouth was full of rocks. Instead he reached out, grabbing the hand closest to him and giving it an affirmative squeeze before letting it fall to his side.

"I'll take that as a yes. Just hold on Smokescreen, I will find out what's wrong."

Smokescreen sighed and soon everything fell away into a blissful oblivion.

"Ratchet, have you ever even done this sort of thing before?" asked Arcee.

"Not on a bot that was still online." Ratchet had opened up a few heads in his lifetime, but only on bots that had been offlined or had never been online in the first place, usually for the purpose of learning. But on a bot that was still alive? Oh that was another matter all together. It was so much more precarious. "But I don't have a choice, I need to find out what's wrong. And fix it if I can."

With Bee watching vitals, and Arcee and Optimus acting as assistants, Ratchet steeled himself to begin the operation, praying that it would be alright.

He was slow and careful, gingerly opening up the back of Smokescreen's cranium plates to expose the various circuits and machinery inside. That was the easy part, now the hard part began, making sure he didn't damage anything, especially not the central processor or his energon lines.

The first thing Ratchet noticed upon opening up Smokescreen's head, was that it was wet. The same oily fluid that had been leaking out the side of his face plates seemed to coat the interior, which could not possibly be doing him any favours, especially given this was an area normally well protected from outside debris and fluid, it was meant to stay dry and clean.

Muttering under his breath he set about carefully dabbing at the oil, carefully wiping down surfaces as he went. So far, aside from the oil everywhere, everything looked intact. Time to keep looking.

. . .

"Oh scrap."

"Ratchet, what is it?"

"Well, I found the problem," he said, voice shaking a bit. "But also, I found the problem. It's the gyroscopic system."

Part mechanical and part biologic, the internal gyroscope functioned like the inner ear on humans, it was what allowed bots to keep their balance and remain steady on their feet. And Ratchet had found Smokescreen's, and the large crack running through the casing around it, from which a clear oil was leaking out.

"Scrap. This isn't good at all."

Part of the gyroscope was enclosed in what seemed to be a glass-like casing, though much like the glass that made up their windshield and windows, it was Cybertronian in origin and much stronger than any glass on earth. So to see such a large crack in it, a crack with a hole in the center no less was, deeply concerning.

Ratchet made a mental note to check the strength of Wheeljack's throwing arm later, in a much safer, more controlled environment.

As he carefully, carefully looked it over, he noticed another problem, the mechanism inside the casing was damaged as well. It should have been spinning around, but it wasn't, one of the many rings inside was cracked.

Well no wonder Smokescreen couldn't stand upright, he literally had lost the ability to balance. He physically couldn't.

"Can you fix him Ratchet?" asked Arcee.

"I'll do my best. Otherwise he may never walk again."

There were two main things that needed to be done. First was replacing the broken ring on the gryoscope, the second was to repair the casing so it wouldn't leak anymore. This was going to be a very long day.

Getting it out was going to be a long and laborious process, one that required all of Ratchet's focus so as not to mess anything up. There were so many delicate pieces inside, circuit boards and drives and fine fuel lines, none of which he wanted to damage.

Which was easier said than done, especially with the constant, distracting, ringing of a phone.

"Bumblebee, what is going on?"

'It's Raf! I-I was supposed to pick him up earlier.'

"Well, you're going to have to decline the calls, we can't have them here right now." Curse humans and their free weekends, if it had been any other day they would have had a few more hours till they had to worry about this. But no, it was Saturday.

'Oh no,' beeped Bumblebee, as the phone rang again a few minutes later. 'Now Miko's calling.'

"Decline her call too!"

He did, unfortunately all that did was make her keep calling. And calling. And calling, no matter how many times Bumblebee declined it.

'What do I do? She won't stop calling!'

Ratchet grumbled and looked over to Optimus. "Permission to shut the phone line off for the time being?" he asked.

Optimus sighed, "If we must."

"You heard him, no more incoming calls. They survived without us before, they can survive one day without us now," he said, before turning back to Smokescreen. "But Smokescreen may not."

"The number you have reached is unavailable. Please hang up, and try your call again."

"Ugh, can you believe this, now my calls won't even go through!" exclaimed Miko. "Jack, what's Agent Fowler's number?"

"What makes you think I know that?"

Miko just rolled her eyes, "Please, like he hasn't given it to your mom yet. Now gimme."

Later, Agent Fowler would return to find his answering machine crammed full of increasingly annoyed messages from Miko demanding a pick up to the Autobot's base.

The gyroscope wasn't very big, in fact it was quite small, fitting easily in the palm of Ratchet's hand, so it took all of Ratchet's control to not break it or drop it as he carefully set it on the table.

"Optimus, can you find and prepare the resin? I need to work on extracting and fixing the internal parts."

Optimus nodded, "I can do that."

"And Arcee, keep cleaning the oil up. It can't possibly be doing his systems any favours."

"On it Ratchet."

'Don't worry Smokescreen, we will get you walking again.'

Carefully, Ratchet set about opening up the broken casing and removing the tiny broken rings before pulling out new ones from the toolbox. Pieces carefully clicked into place as he set the new ones in, and a gentle tap with the tweezers sent it spinning and he breathed a sigh of relief. They weren't exact but given what they had, they would do.

"Do you have the resin?" he asked, turning to Optimus.

"It's right here." He held up a glass beaker full of a thick, viscous liquid that he had previously been stirring.

"Good, good."

With the aid of a syringe he began to squeeze the clear resin into the cracks in the casing, like mending cracks on a windscreen. The trickiest part was the hole, the last thing he needed was a lump to form.

"I think I've cleaned all the oil in here Ratchet," said Arcee, setting an oily cloth on the table, one of many already there.

'And everything is looking fine here,' beeped Bee with a thumbs up.

Ratchet nodded, so far everything was going smoothly. Hopefully it continued to go smoothly.

'He's waking, he's waking!'

"Smokescreen, can you hear me? Smokescreen?"

Smokescreen groaned, optics flickering as the room around him swam, vision blurry. He opened his mouth to try and speak, but all that came out was an incomprehensible mumble, and his mouth feeling like it was full of rocks.

"Easy now, you've had a rough day, to put it mildly."

That was Ratchet's voice, coming from somewhere beside him. At least it wasn't being drowned out by that horrid scraping and buzzing noise, even if it, along with everything else was garbled sounding. He rolled his head to one side, blinking a few times to clear his vision.

"D-doc?" his voice crackled out, a bit stiff sounding.

"How do you feel?"

"Blahhhh."

"Yes, that sounds about right. Just, take a few deep breaths and take it easy. You might need a bit to recalibrate after everything."

Smokescreen groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "What...happ-ennnned?" His voice stuttered and caught, dragging the word out till it managed to get out the next sound.

"It seems, that on top of things getting rattled around in there, your internal gyroscope got damaged as well."

"My...what?"

Ratchet paused. "The system in charge of keeping you balanced. The blow to your head broke it and it was leaking oil everywhere."

"Buzzing...buzzing gOne." Smokescreen tapped the side of his head with one hand. "Quiet again."

"A buzzing noise?"

Smokescreen nodded slowly. "Buzzing. Like...Scraplets in processor. But, no buzzing now."

"I see. I wouldn't be surprised if that was caused by the oil getting into everything, nothing in there is meant to get wet. Now that that's cleaned up you shouldn't have any more problems."

"Voice?" Smokescreen pointed at his throat. Even though he could speak and was mostly understandable, his voice was scratchy and almost robotic sounding and everything came out rather choppy sounding and missing words and getting stuck on others.

"A side effect of everything. This will fix itself in a few days."

Smokescreen just nodded before lying back against the angled med table he was on. Part of him wanted to get up and walk around. But the other part of him just felt, really tired and not like doing much of anything.

"And, and I can't believe I'm about to say this, but it'll help your recovery to talk," said Ratchet.

"What?"

Ratchet sighed, rubbing his brow. "Talking and utilizing your voice will help speed up the recovery and repair process. So, you have the orders of a doctor to talk. And please don't make me regret saying this." He grabbed something from the table in front of him and handed it to Smokescreen. "In the mean time, drink this."

"What issss it-t-t?" asked Smokescreen, taking the bot sized drinking cup from him.

"Coolant. You sounded like you were going to overheat earlier, so it wouldn't be a bad idea to top up."

'Does this mean we'll get him back?' asked Bee, looking from Smokescreen to Ratchet.

"Yes Bumblebee, once I clear him for duty he's all yours," said Ratchet. "Although, for the sake of your head and my spark, don't take anymore blows to the head."

Smokescreen just laughed weakly. "W-will try."

Once satisfied that he was recovered enough, Ratchet released Smokescreen from his care to sleep and recover in his quarters. Finally, maybe now things could go back to normal.

At least, that was what Smokescreen had hoped.

He settled in for the night and closed his eyes as he slipped into alt mode, feeling his systems powering down and that familiar, peaceful sensation that came with it.

Dreaddreaddreaddread. FEAR DarkdarkdarkdarkdreamDOOM

Smokescreen's headlights snapped to life with a gasp and he flailed about blindly, wheels spinning on the spot, processor and fans whirring at top speed as danger alerts went off all over his system. He panted and shook, trembling where he sat, as if that would somehow calm his racing systems.

His gaze darted around the room, looking for the danger. Had it always been so small looking, so cramped? He shook his head, no that was silly, it was the same size as usual, it was just the dark playing tricks on his sensors. And there was no danger, aside from maybe running into a wall.

Taking a deep breath he settled back down, lights shutting off as the alerts vanished one by one. It was fine. He was fine.

He closed his eyes again, letting himself slip back into sleep mode.

And was just as quickly woken by that dreadful, horrifying feeling that something was wrong, and his systems confirming it, alerting him to danger around him.

It felt like someone had wrapped metal tight around his chest and limbs and locked his wheels, they felt heavy and difficult to move. The nagging sensation of something being wrong, of dread and doom and oh Primus he was gong to DIE, gnawed at the back of his mind furiously, like a caged Insecticon.

Over and over, the same scenario played out over the following mini cycles, Smokescreen slipping into sleep mode, only to be jolted out of it by his systems insisting something was wrong, that something bad was going to happen, that he was in danger.

CLANG

CLANG

CLANG

Ratchet groaned in annoyance as a loud banging noise pulled him out of sleep mode, something he had been quite enjoying thank you. For a few moments he lay there, trying to place the sound. It wasn't old clanging pipes, they'd fixed that problem a while ago. And it wasn't the settling metal of the hangar. No it sounded like, knocking? On the door to his quarters, specifically.

Ugh, what in the Allspark was someone doing there? With a grumble he lugged himself over to the door.

"Have you any idea what time it...is...?" he started to scold which ever spark crazed fool had decided that waking him up in the middle of the night was a good idea, only to trail off upon realizing it was Smokescreen, and he looked positively terrified.

His optics flicked from side to side rapidly, as if he was looking around for something. And he was fidgeting with his hands, fingers twisting together anxiously. Ratchet could hear the furious whirring of his, well everything, and his frantic sounding venting.

"Smokescreen?"

"Something is wrong."

"Nothing's wrong."

Smokescreen stared at him blankly, that couldn't possibly be right. Not with everything he was feeling. Something was wrong. "What?"

"You heard me," said Ratchet, gesturing to the screen with his diagnostic results. "Aside from everything being a bit elevated, nothing is wrong."

"But, but...why? Why do I feel...what this??"

"Well, maybe if you gave me more to work with aside from just 'something's wrong' maybe I could help. But for now, it just seems like you had a nightmare."

Smokescreen shook his head. "Wasn't dreaming. Barely even slept. I closed my eyes and..." he trailed off as he looked down at his hands and away from Ratchet.

"And? And what Smokescreen?"

"Scared," he replied quietly. "Every time I close my eyes...I'm...in danger."

Ratchet's gaze flicked over to him, looking him up and down before he sighed. "Explain exactly what happens. As best as you can."

Smokescreen clenched his hands together. "I don't know. I try sleep and then. Fear. I feel, doom and fear. Like bad is going to happen. System say there is danger. But, I know there's not. It's just my room. But suddenly it seems, scary. Felt like I couldn't breathe, like I was trapped. And, chest hurts."

Ratchet listened quietly, nodding slightly every now and then as Smokescreen did his best to explain his, frankly terrifying situation. As Smokescreen finished, Ratchet sighed and rubbed his brow with one hand. This sounded, fairly text book.

"A panic attack."

"What?"

"It sounds as if you had a panic attack Smokescreen."

"How? Why?"

"Many reasons," said Ratchet. "It's sort of, a malfunction of your defensive systems, alerting you to a danger that doesn't exist." He drummed his fingers on his chin thoughtfully, the soft clicking the only noise to be heard in the quiet of the base. "You said this happens when you went into sleep mode, correct?"

Smokescreen nodded.

"Is there something that could causing your systems to trigger and alert to danger when you sleep? Some reason you might be...afraid of sleeping?"

"I-no. I want to sleep. I'm tired doc. I don't...I don't..." Smokescreen trailed off as he unclenched his hands, looking from Ratchet, then back to them. A reason he wouldn't he wouldn't want to sleep? No, he couldn't think of anything, he really did want to just sleep and put the day behind him. But...

"Don't want to break," he said quietly after a few ticks of quiet.

"Smokescreen?"

"Last time I slept. I woke up broken, worse than before. Don't...I don't want that. Again."

Ratchet's gaze softened slightly. Ah, so that was it.

"Malfunction. Is it glitch? Can you, fix?" asked Smokescreen.

"I'm afraid it's not that sort of glitch." A hand came down on Smokescreen's shoulder and he looked up at Ratchet. Before he could speak, Ratchet spoke first. "But, I have an idea that might help."

Smokescreen was very curious as to what this 'idea' entailed, especially as Ratchet left and returned with a tankard of high octane gasoline.

"This is for me," said Ratchet, noticing the look on his face. "I need to stay awake somehow."

Smokescreen tilted his head to one side in confusion, folding his arms over his chest. "Why?"

"So I can monitor you of course," said Ratchet. "If the problem is that you're afraid of something going wrong while you sleep, then I just need to monitor your vitals until morning. That way, if something does go wrong I'm there to catch it." He set the tankard down as he spoke. "It's not a glitch that I can fix, it's something that'll need to right itself on its own. In the meantime, what we will do is, try to trick your sensors into letting you sleep, as it were. I don't know if it will work but, it might provide you some peace of mind. At least for tonight."

"All night?"

"If that's what it takes, so let's make you comfortable."

The base at night was so quiet that even the soft key clicks from the computer seemed deafening.

After making sure Smokescreen was comfortable on the medical table, which was now tilted at a roughly 45º angle for comfort, Ratchet grabbed a chair for himself to settle in for the night, which was where he now was, typing away at the computer.

Smokescreen still wasn't sure if it would help any more than Ratchet did, but it certainly couldn't make things worse.

He lay back with a sigh, turning his gaze to the ceiling. Hopefully it would work. Hopefully.

As he shifted his position to get comfortable, he looked back to Ratchet. "Hey, doc?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank...you."

. . .

"Well, I'm sure this has an...explanation."

Smokescreen's eyes flew open at the sound of a voice that was decidedly NOT Ratchet's. His gaze flicked around for a few moments before he became painfully aware that Optimus was standing in front of him with a rather bemused look. Oh, it was morning already it seemed. Huh.

"O-o-optimus!" he sputtered, any remaining dregs of sleep gone in an instant. "I uh-I, there is an explanation. And a good one."

"I'm listening."

"I-uh. I had some, issues sleeping last night," said Smokescreen. "And doc-Ratchet-was helping me." He glanced around for the aforementioned doctor, only to see him still in his chair, arms folded over his chest and head bowed. He was asleep?! Evidently his fool proof plan to not fall asleep had not worked after all.

"I...I might need help getting down then." He gestured to the cord connecting him to the computers and electopulse monitor, used for monitoring his vitals, he couldn't exactly go far with it still attached, and it was in a position he couldn't reach. "Please?"

Optimus had barely begun to reach for the port on Smokescreen, when Ratchet suddenly JOLTED to life, eyes snapping open as he practically lunged across the gap towards them.

"Ah-ah-ah, that's my patient you're messing with!"

Optimus jumped back and out of the way, more surprised than anything. "I thought you were asleep."

Ratchet scoffed. "Hardly, I was just resting my optics."

Smokescreen wasn't entirely sure he believed that and it didn't look like Optimus did either, though he didn't say anything on it either way.

"I don't see any problems here Smokescreen, so you're free to go," said Ratchet as he disconnected Smokescreen from the computer.

"There were no problems?" asked Smokescreen. "A-a-all night?" Even after setting him up, it had taken Smokescreen several attempts to fall asleep, having several more instances of panicking himself awake before he was finally able to sleep for the night. According to Ratchet at the time all his vitals looked normal, a bit elevated but not out of the ordinary for someone that had been startled.

"No, nothing out of the ordinary given the circumstances," he said. "And, it sounds like your voice is starting improve."

Oh, now that he thought about it, Ratchet was right. While he still had a bit of a stutter and some of his words came out stilted and the volume fluctuated a bit, it was better when compared to how it had been.

"Do you think I could, actually go outs-s-side?" asked Smokescreen.

"Only if you don't wander to far from base. Or go alone," said Ratchet.

Smokescreen punched the air in excitement. While he didn't really want to be babysat, he'd take it if it meant getting from fresh air and a change of scenery for a bit.

The scenery whipped past in a blur as Smokescreen sped through the Jasper backroads and hills in the area near their base. It felt so good to finally get outside again, if he stayed cooped up inside any longer he was going to go crazy!

A few clips behind him, Bumblebee beeped furiously at him to slow down. Since he couldn't go out alone, Bumblebee had been sent with him to keep an eye on things once he was awake. At least it was someone who could go fast. If it had been Bulkhead he might have died of boredom.

"S-sorry, sorry," he said, transforming out of vehicle mode as he came to a stop.

'I can't keep an eye on you if you drive off!' Bumblebee beeped in annoyance, shaking a finger at Smokescreen as he followed suit.

"He-ey, you're not the one who's been cooped up inside all week," said Smokescreen. "I j-just need to stretch my l-limbs and move, you know?"

Bumblebee sighed, shoulders slumping. 'Just slow down a bit ok? If anything happens it's MY tailpipe on the line.'

"I-I get it, I get it," said Smokescreen with a 'calm down' gesture. "I'll slow down."

'And don't fall off a cliff. I am NOT dragging you back.'

Smokescreen laughed before shifting back into alt mode and taking off again, this time a bit slower. He couldn't wait till he didn't need to be chaperoned, then he could zoom as fast as he wanted. Well as long as no humans were around.

Bumblebee took off after him and for the next few hours they just sort of drove around, still within view of the hangars. At least until the comm system in Bee began to ring.

"You expecting a call?" asked Smokescreen.

'I don't think so? Hello?'

Rafael's voice sounded through the speaker. "Hey Bee! Are we still doing movie night tonight?"

Weekend movie night had become something of a tradition in the base, even after the destruction of the old one. Apparently the giant walls were 'perfect' for these movies, according to the little humans.

Smokescreen hadn't quite figured out the appeal of these things, but the humans seemed to enjoy them and had somehow roped the rest of them into watching on a few occasions.

Well, most of them. One could generally count on Smokescreen, Bulkhead, Bee and Arcee to stay and watch, Optimus was a coin flip on if he would or not (usually not) and Ratchet never joined. Neither did their two newest members; Ultra Magnus called it a waste of time (though made sure to keep that opinion to himself when Optimus was around), and Wheeljack just found them boring for the most part. Not that either of them were ever really in the base that late anyways, as Ultra Magnus had his own ship and Wheeljack went, somewhere.

So with the sun going down, no pressing matters to attend and snacks all gathered, the humans and bots hunkered down to put on a movie (or movies as sometimes happened).

And this night was no different, the movie up on the wall; humans sitting on bots and munching on snacks, Ratchet tucked away in his bunker for the night, basically a perfect movie night.

And yet Smokescreen couldn't focus on the movie being played out before him. His mind kept drifting.

'Don't fall off a cliff. I am NOT dragging you back.'

Obviously Bumblebee wouldn't have been able to lug Smokescreen back if something happened, at least not without great difficulty. But they were at least close enough he could drive back for help or, if it was really bad, call for Ratchet to come to them. But, what if that sort of thing happened where they weren't close, or if the comm system went down and they couldn't call. It had occurred to Smokescreen that, he really didn't know what to do in that sort of situation. He hadn't been able to help Optimus back then, and he wouldn't be able to help any of his teammates in a crisis. He could fight and hit things real good, but if someone was injured? If he was injured? He couldn't do anything.

"You going somewhere?" asked Jack, turning his head slightly from his position atop Arcee at the sound of Smokescreen standing up.

"Oh, uh, I'm just making a trip to the little bot's room. I'll be right back."

"Oh. Alright then." Jack turned back to watch the movie and Smokescreen, as quietly as he could, slipped off.

He stopped in front of Ratchet's quarters and took a deep breath, wringing his hands together. He couldn't back out now, he had to do this. Raising one hand, he knocked on the door to Ratchet's quarters, bracing himself and hoping the doctor wouldn't be too upset with the intrusion.

"Hey, uh, Ratchet?"

Ratchet had been quietly reading in his bunk when he heard knock on his door followed by Smokescreen's voice. Strange, shouldn't he have been watching that movie thing that the children had put on? He could certainly hear it from where he was, so it clearly wasn't over. Did that mean something was wrong?

"Is something the matter?" asked Ratchet as he opened the door.

Smokescreen looked strangely nervous, twisting his hands together as he shifted about on the spot, rocking on his heels.

"N-no nothing's wrong," said Smokescreen. "I'm fine actually. It's just...it's um..." He stammered, looking around almost as if he was making sure no one else was around.

"Spit it out Smokescreen."

"Could you teach me first aid?" he blurted out finally. "Even-even just the basic stuff?"

Oh. That was not at all what he expected to hear, to the point that for a moment he thought this had to be some kind of prank. Except that Smokescreen didn't look like he was lying. He looked incredibly sincere in fact, which made it all the more surprising, what could have prompted this? He wasn't opposed to the idea certainly, just confused.

"I-you want to learn first aid?"

Smokescreen nodded slowly. "It's...something I've been thinking about...for a little bit now."

"Not that I am one to complain but, why? What prompted this?"

Smokescreen glanced back over his shoulder in the direction of the rest of the team before looking back to Ratchet. "After everything that's happened recently, Optimus, me, I realized, I-I don't know anything. I was, next to useless to help Optimus, I'm pretty sure it was only a miracle that what I did worked. If it hadn't I..." he trailed off, rubbing his arm anxiously. "I want to be able to help, even a little."

If there had been any doubts about the sincerity of his ask before, they were certainly weren't now. He knew how much Optimus' near death had weighed on the rookie. This was bar none, the most earnest he'd seen Smokescreen about anything.

"Well, if what you and Optimus told me was any indication, I think even I would have been hard pressed to help Optimus even with a full lab at my disposal. And you were trapped under a crumbling mountain." Ratchet sighed, "But, I suppose, if you're serious, we can always start tomorrow, in the morning," said Ratchet. "But you need to actually be there. This isn't the sort of thing you do half cocked."

"Of course! I-I'll be there Ratchet sir! I promise!"

True to his word, Smokescreen was up early, before everyone else save for Ratchet, who had clearly been up for a while. The tables had been cleared off, everything heaped over in a corner to get it out of the way. The only thing sitting on the table was a medical kit, and Ratchet's drink.

"Seems you made it after all," said Ratchet. "Colour me impressed."

Smokescreen rolled his eyes. "Don't be. The Elite Guard has us waking up this early all the time for training. Early to bed, early to rise." He shuddered and shook his head, who knew that would come in handy. "Anyways, not the first time I've had to be up at the crack of dawn."

Ratchet stifled a laugh behind a hand.

"Well, I've never taught before but, I thought we could start with the contents of a basic field medic's kit," said Ratchet, gesturing to the kit on the table. "It's the easiest place to start."

It may have been the easiest place to start, at least according to Ratchet, but oh did it contain so much more than Smokescreen thought it did, or could. He really hoped there wasn't going to be a test later.

The first things brought out were simple tools for basic diagnostics and inspection; a small light, a magnifying glass, tweezers, even a screwdriver. Even Smokescreen could figure out what those were for.

The next thing pulled out was a rolled up canister that, when opened, revealed multiple vials of various fluids and oils; brake fluid, joint lubricant, coolant, even an emergency shot of Energon, to name a few. All for topping them up or getting them moving again.

Instant resin for windshields and patch kits for wheels, mesh patches, pressure gauges and a portable welding kit for simple spot repairs and checks. Plenty of nuts and bolts and the required tools to use them, stuff that always came in handy no matter what and was pretty much always needed.

There were several collapsible slings and splints for immobilizing limbs that were out of commission but still attached.

A folding blade for cutting, small clamps to pinching off broken lines, along with spare bits of tubing and lines to stop someone from bleeding out. A more complicated sort of operation to do in the field, but one that no doubt had to be done right then to ensure the mech made it back to the medical bay in the first place. After all the goal, Ratchet said, of any field medic, was to keep the patient alive long enough to be transported to a proper medical site for proper, more thorough treatments. Most of the time though it was just on the spot patch jobs and sending them right back into the battle field. He grimaced slightly as he said this, a note of bitterness to his voice and a look flickered across the face. Smokescreen decided to pretend he hadn't seen that.

Every time Smokescreen thought Ratchet was done he just seemed to pull out more. How Ratchet managed to pack it all in one medical kit, Smokescreen had no idea. Lots of practise he assumed.

There were two bottles he pulled out that could absolutely not be mixed up under any circumstances. One was an agent used for derusting and for loosening up things like stiff nuts and bolts, while the other was the exact opposite, a very strong glue. You absolutely did not want to mix them up.

A few of the tools could even be used in self defence if it came down to it, the saw blades used for cutting things free were obvious. There was also a stasis prod, for 'the most unruly of patients' Ratchet had said, or a Decepticon trying to offline you. A single touch from it would induce a momentary stasis state, a temporary paralysis. It didn't last long, but it was plenty of time to get away if the need arose. If one was lucky, it never would.

"So, you've used all of these?" asked Smokescreen.

Ratchet nodded, "For the most part, yes. I haven't used everything, but I do know how."

Smokescreen was quiet a moment before asking something that had been rattling around his mind for a while.

"What made you choose to be become a doctor?"

Now it was Ratchet's turn to be quiet, almost uncharacteristically so and for a moment Smokescreen worried that he'd pried into something he maybe shouldn't have. Again.

"A-ah sorry. I'm sorry, was that insensitive of me? I didn't mean to-"

"Smokescreen."

"Sorry."

"It's not a problem. It's just been some time since someone asked me that." He took a breath, fans whirring slightly. "Despite what it might seem, I wasn't always a medic."

"You weren't?"

He shook his head, "I was an engineer at first. Putting together machines rather than bots. And building them. And then the war started. And the machines I was helping to build and repair were, weapons." An uncomfortable look crossed his face. "It's easy to be, disassociated from what's happening when you don't see the results. But eventually the results end up in front of you." He set down the tool he'd been fiddling with, a screwdriver he'd been twisting around in his hands. "Count your lucky stars that you ended up in stasis when you did and didn't have to see the worst of the war. Both sides were...brutal. Seeing that much pain and carnage, I didn't want to perpetuate it, I wanted to stop it." He glanced up from the table to Smokescreen. "So I began studying and took up medicine instead. If I could offer some relief then perhaps all this fighting, might be worth it."

"Was it?" asked Smokescreen. "Worth it, I mean."

"Sometimes I wonder," said Ratchet quietly. "But, keeping you lot alive and in one piece is worth it as far as I'm concerned."

"Well, I'm glad we have you. I mean, who knows the state I would be in otherwise. Heck, I bet most of us wouldn't still be here, or at least in one piece if you weren't here for us," said Smokescreen. "So, if it means anything, we certainly appreciate you. I know I do."

Ratchet's fans whirred momentarily before he turned back to the table of supplies. "Well...thank you. Now, where were we?"

It hadn't be too unusual over the last few cycles to see Smokescreen awake before anyone else, so Optimus was not at all surprised to see him already up by the time he got up. What he was surprised to see was what he was doing. He wasn't getting readings taken and diagnostics run, as he usually was. Instead, he and Ratchet were standing at a work table, discussing the contents of a medical kit, the contents of which was currently spread out across said table. And Smokescreen actually looked interested in what was being said, a fact given away by the slight twitching of his back fins.

It hadn't escaped the Prime's watchful gaze that Smokescreen much preferred fighting things than sitting around and listening to people talk. And yet here he was as diligently focused as if he was getting a mission briefing.

A smile briefly flickered across his face. It was good that the young bot was expanding his horizons. Even if Smokescreen hadn't been sure, insisted even that Prime was wrong back in the cave, he knew in his spark he wasn't wrong in his assessment. And seeing this, he was even more sure than before. He did have the makings of a great leader in there, it just needed to be properly nurtured.

Not wanting to seem like he was eavesdropping, he took a step out of sight and gave a loud throat clearing cough so as to alert them to his presence.

"Oh, Optimus, good morning," said Ratchet, looking up as the Prime made himself known.

"Good morning Ratchet, Smokescreen."

"Good morning sir."

"I hope I wasn't interrupting anything."

Ratchet waved him off. "No no, we were just finishing up here."

Optimus nodded, "Well, carry on, don't let me bother you." If he really was teaching Smokescreen something, well far be it from to stop him.

"Well, if Optimus is up then everyone else will be in short time, so we should probably continue this another time," said Ratchet. "Besides, it'll take some time to pack all this back up." He made a sweeping motion with his arm at the table full of tools and stuff before them.

"I guess that means my check up will have to wait then?" asked Smokescreen.

"I think it'll be fine. From what I observed here you're already doing leaps and bounds better. Your balance and coordination seems to be just about back to normal, as are your fine motor skills." He pointed to the bolt in Smokescreen's hands that he had, at some point, picked up from the table and was fiddling with. An embarrassed look crossed his face and he set it back down on the table with the rest. "And your speech functions have rapidly been improving as well."

"Does that mean I'm cleared for duty then?" asked Smokescreen. This all sounded like good news.

"Not yet. We do still have to run your diagnostics. It's just not an immediately pressing concern anymore," said Ratchet. "But I am not sending you out until you are 100% operational. Don't forget, you did have an operation on your cranium not to long ago."

Smokescreen sighed, the pseudo-wings on his back drooping as his shoulders slumped. Well so much for that idea. He turned to leave, to find, something to do, when Ratchet spoke up again.

"Ah, before you go, take this."

Smokescreen turned back to see Ratchet holding a data disk out to it him.

"What is it?" he asked, examining it as he took it.

"A disk on basic Cybertronian anatomy and physiology," explained Ratchet. "If this is something you really want to pursue, well this would be a good thing to brush up on. Outside we may all be different but, at the end of the cycle, an arm is still an arm, and a knee joint is still a knee joint, whether it's attached to a Wrecker, a Scout, an Autobot or Decepticon or a Prime. At our base we're, all quite similar."

Smokescreen made a thoughtful noise as he looked at the data disk in his hand. That sort of information would be useful. After all, Bumblebee, Arcee and Bulkhead were all built differently.

"And, it might be advantageous for fighting too."

"How so?"

"Well, if you know how something works, you have a better idea how best to...take it apart, if the need arises."

"Oh. OH!" Smokescreen curled his hand around the disk, holding it close. "Thank you. Um. Do you, want me to help or?"

Ratchet waved him off. "It's fine, I can manage it on my own."

As Smokescreen left, disk in servo, he could have sworn for a moment he saw a smile flash across Ratchet's face as he turned back to the table, repacking the medical kit.

"So did anyone else notice the base felt weird today, or was that just me?" asked Arcee as they rolled down the road, Bulkhead on her tail and Bumblebee on her flank.

Ever since the lot of them had gotten up, it had struck her that the energy in the base just felt different than usual. It felt, lighter somehow.

"Yeah, the doc seemed like he was in a good mood," said Bulkhead. "He hasn't even yelled at me once!"

That was definitely true, Ratchet had seemed to be in a better than usual mood that morning.

'Maybe he got a really good rest?' offered Bumblebee with a beep.

"I'unno Bee, this seems like more than just a good rest cycle," said Bulkhead. "I mean, have you ever seen the doc in such a good mood before? I haven't, at least not like this."

'Should we really complain though? I mean, isn't a good mood a good thing for all of us?'

"I never said it was a bad thing!" said Bulkhead. "Just...weird is all."

"Well, I guess we'll find out when we get back with the kids. You know how Miko always gets under his plates."

Bulkhead laughed. "Yeah, that'll really test his good mood."

"Hey Ratchet, we're on our way back now with the kids," crackled Bulkhead's voice over the comms.

"Do you need a ground bridge?"

"Naw, it's a nice day out so we'll drive back."

"Alright."

The comm switched off with a telltale beep and Ratchet returned his focus to his previous task, though not before taking a look over at his currently occupied patient.

Smokescreen had found a spot to sit down and if the movements he was making were any indication, was currently looking through the data disk Ratchet had given him earlier. He was looking at a screen displayed from one arm, while he held the other one up and occasionally looked back at it, moving his digits or wrist or something before looking back at the screen.

Of all the bots to ask about and take any interest in medicine, Smokescreen was, admittedly, not his top choice. The only other ones that it would have been more surprising to have heard this from were Wheeljack and Bulkhead.

Ratchet wasn't one to discourage learning, especially of this kind, but the problem was, he had no idea how to teach. It wasn't something he'd ever done before.

He made a mental note to ask Mrs. Darby about that the next time she was around, she may have been a human nurse but surely she knew a thing or two about teaching younger ones.

The sound of revving engines drew his attention to the opening doors to the base. That must have been the rest of them returning with their human charges.

"Welcome back and-BUMBLEBEE! What happened??"

The small black and yellow scout rolled in, revealing that BOTH bumpers were mangled, the front in worse condition than the rear.

"If you ran into a Decepticon you should have said something, I would have ground bridged you back."

"This wasn't 'Con business this time Ratchet, just crappy human drivers," said Jack, dismounting Arcee.

"Yeah, the guy in front of us at the light threw his car into reverse and slammed right into into Bee," said Arcee as she transformed back.

"And the back bumper?"

"Oh, that would be me, sort of," said Bulkhead. "Bee was pushed into me when he got hit. I'm fine but uh, can't say the same for his bumpers and fenders though. They crumpled like cardboard."

As Rafael climbed out, Bee transformed back, huffing and beeping in annoyance, fans whirring and vents puffing.

"You best get over here so we can straighten you out," said Ratchet with a sigh, taking in the damage.

Cursing up a storm in Cybertronian, Bee hobbled over to the medical table. In vehicle mode they may have been his bumpers and fenders, but in bot mode those parts became his chest plate and parts of his legs, which meant walking had become quite difficult. And there was the added risk of something getting snagged mid transformation if they remained bent out of shape.

By this point, Smokescreen had may his way over to see what the commotion was about.

"Smokescreen, if you could grab the tool kit that would be appreciated," said Ratchet. "I need to fix Bumblebee's leg plates."

Fixing bumpers and fenders wasn't a difficult fix, even with their limited resources, it just took a while, especially since in this particular instance both sets had to be fixed.

As Smokescreen retrieved the tool kit, Ratchet tilted the medical table back and propped up one of Bumblebee's legs. Time to get to work.

With nothing to really do, Smokescreen found himself sort of hovering around Ratchet, watching as he worked on Bumblebee's plates.

'So, should I be calling you nurse Smokescreen now?' asked Bee with a string of curious beeps as he looked over at Smokescreen, arms folded over his chest.

"What? No! I'm not a nurse, I'm just helping Ratchet."

"I mean, that's kind of what a nurse does," said Jack, leaning his forearms on the railing of the platform he was standing on, watching the events below.

Smokescreen huffed, fans whirring and for a moment he swore he heard a muffled laugh come from Ratchet. But the good doctor had his back to him and Bee just offered a half hearted shrug, so he really couldn't be sure.

It wasn't a particularly complicated process, removing the panelling to work it back into shape, then sanding, smoothing and reenforcing it before putting the plates back on. Ratchet just had to do that multiple times. Which meant it got boring after a while as there wasn't much to watch. At some point Bumblebee dropped off for a nap while waiting and Smokescreen eventually drifted away from the medical station after Ratchet finished with the first dented panel.

Ratchet sighed as he straightened up, stretching out his back in the process. He was only half done with Bumblebee, but the most important parts, the panelling on the young scout's legs, were finished.

"Bumblebee, you can get up now," he said, giving the side of his cranium a tap with his finger tips. "Get up and stretch your legs out and move them around, I need to make sure everything's on properly."

Bumblebee's optics flickered back to life and he stretched his arms over his head before standing up, bouncing about on his wheels and moving from foot to foot.

While he was doing that, Ratchet took the chance to look around the base and,

"Where's Smokescreen?"

His not-yet-cleared-for-duty patient was rather noticeably not in the base, or at least not anywhere within Ratchet's line of vision. Which was only a little alarming.

"He's just outside on the tarmac," said Arcee, leaning on the open door and gesturing over her shoulder with a thumb.

"Why?"

"Target practice," said Bulkhead. "Take a look for yourself."

Now curious, Ratchet made his way to the open bay doors and took a look out, optics following everyone else's gaze to what they were watching. Sure enough, Smokescreen was out on a flat, open area of the tarmac between the hangars with, what looked like piles of scrap metal set up around the area. And he was shooting at them. Specifically the large, flat pieces of metal that were held up in the middle of each pile, some with targets painted on them and some without, and many of them with scorch marks on them. Though it was hard to tell which ones were caused by Smokescreen and which were already there.

"Couldn't shoot at things in the base, so we set it up out here."

"Where did...?"

"The scrap heap," came Agent Fowler's voice, causing Ratchet a moment of surprise, not having noticed the human out there as well. "He said he wanted to keep his skills from getting rusty, so I let him and Bulkhead raid our scrap storage for targets. If he wants to turn our junk into even smaller pieces, well I won't complain. Plus, he seems to be providing some free entertainment for the guys on break."

"And there hasn't been any problems?" asked Ratchet.

"I don't think so. His blasters seem to be functioning just fine," said Bulkhead.

Ratchet just nodded, he'd add that note into the file later. He'd meant to check that all of Smokescreen's transformation functions were working properly, before he went out on his little joy ride with Bumblebee the other day but they'd given him the slip. But given that they'd come back both in the same condition they'd left, if perhaps a bit dustier, and Smokescreen hadn't reported any issues, it seemed safe to say it was in fact working. Good good, that was a good sign.

"Well, as long as he cleans up after himself. I need to finish working on Bumblebee."

By the time Ratchet finished with Bumblebee's bumpers, Smokescreen had turned a fair amount of the scrap metal into even tinier bits of scrap metal. And was now realizing the big downside to his plan, he had to clean it all up, and there weren't any bot-sized brooms around.

After he finished cleaning up his mess, it was his turn on the table, for his regular check up and scans.

"So, how much longer till I'm clear to start going on missions again?" asked Smokescreen as he lay back against the table, drumming his fingers on his plates anxiously. "I feel fine."

"You underwent a very delicate procedure that I've never done before just two cycles ago. I want to make sure no surprises are going to suddenly crop up. The last thing we need is you glitching out while out in the field." Ratchet looked at Smokescreen's exhausted expression and sighed. "A couple more cycles. If nothing shows up on your scans over the next few cycles, then I think you should probably be in the clear."

Smokescreen's optics brightened in excitement and his fans buzzed as he gave the air a little punch of excitement. "Yes!"

"Just don't get ahead of yourself," said Ratchet. "Don't want to jinx it."

Ever since Smokescreen's accident, Wheeljack had made himself very scarce from the base, replacing his presence with his absence.

While the rest of the team had been trying to revive Smokescreen, Ratchet had read him the riot act something fierce. He chewed him out about his carelessness and recklessness and how he'd been warned about this before. It was one thing for the doc to fix up one of them, but what if he'd hit one of the humans? A human turned into paste couldn't be fixed.

So he made himself scarce. He didn't really feel like getting yelled at and glared at even more. Not to mention seeing the state the rookie was in, it was uncomfortable to say the least.

He'd stopped by a couple times, usually to grab Bulkhead or for a ground bridge to somewhere, but never long. Bulkhead swore that Smokescreen was getting better and that it was fine, but if what he had seen was any indication, he really doubted it. The kid was stumbling around worse than someone drunk on Energon and was about as understandable as one. Man, he'd really fragged the kid's system's up bad hadn't he?

So when he rolled up to the base he was quite surprised to see the kid outside with Bulkhead, shooting at makeshift targets. Some of them had been set up on the ground and some were in the process of being launched into the air by Bulkhead.

Well, it seemed his trying to avoid the kid and the doc had finally run its course, because the moment Bulkhead noticed him, Smokescreen was bound to notice him too. And that was going to be awkward to say the least.

"Jackie! You could'a given me a heads up that you were coming!" called out Bulkhead, tossing the last target in the air before charging towards the other wrecker. "Where ya been? It's been a few cycles."

"Ah you know, out and around, blasting 'Con tail, trying to salvage anything from the Jackhammer. That stuff."

"Wheeljack's here?"

Aaand there was the newbie, oh boy. Well, at least this time he looked better. Not only was he jogging over on his own two feet, but he wasn't stumbling or drifting to the side anymore.

"Haven't seen you around since, well," he tapped his cranium with a finger.

"Ah, yeah well...You're looking, a lot better than the last time I saw you kid."

"I feel better too! So the 'Cons better watch out," he swung his arms, miming punching someone as he spoke.

Wheeljack raised an eyebrow, "You back on duty already?"

Smokescreen sighed and hung his head, arms falling to his sides in defeat. "Naw, not yet. But soon! Once I get a few more incident free days in a row, Ratchet said I'll likely be good to go."

"Yeah, that sounds about right for the doc."

"Why don't you come inside the base?" asked Bulkhead. "No sense standing around outside all day."

Wheeljack rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, "I dunno, I'm not so sure the good doctor wants to see my mug any time soon, not after..." he gestured to Smokescreen.

"It's all good, I swear," said Smokescreen. "To be honest, I don't even remember what happened, they had to fill me in after the fact. Sounds like I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"You ain't mad at me?"

"Should I be?"

Wheeljack gave a rough laugh, if Smokescreen wasn't going to hold it against him he wasn't going to complain.

"Come on then," said Bulkhead, clapping him on the shoulder plate before heading towards the base.

"I'm sure it won't be that bad," said Smokescreen.

As the younger bot turned away, something on the back of his head caught Wheeljack's optics and a twist formed somewhere in his core. Through the blue paint he bore the tell tell signs of a weld job, a vertical line running down the center of his headplate. Which meant at some point since he'd last been around, someone had opened up the kid's head. Had his injury really been so bad as to necessitate surgery on his head? That wasn't exactly the sort of thing one did unless they really had no other choice.

"Yeah, I hope you're right," mumbled Wheeljack as he followed the pair inside. The last thing he wanted was another lecture.

"So, finished shooting things outside have we?" asked Ratchet, barely looking up from the computer he was working at.

"Just taking a break," said Bulkhead. "And look who's back!"

"Oh, I heard."

"Aw, what's with that tone?" asked Wheeljack. "Didn't you miss me?"

"As much as I would miss a rusty bolt between my plates," said Ratchet. "But, I have been wanting to talk to you, so it's a good thing you're here."

Wheeljack grimaced. "That doesn't sound good. If it's another lecture then I'm out of here doc."

"It's-I told you not to call me that!"

Smokescreen stopped where he was and glanced back at them in mild confusion as they bickered. Ratchet, didn't like being called 'doc'? Strange, he'd called him that a few times as of late and he hadn't seemed to mind then. Had-had he done something wrong? He stuffed that code of thought away to dwell on later, when Wheeljack wasn't around.

"Anyways, we'll talk later so don't go running off," huffed Ratchet. "And you," he pointed at Smokescreen. "If you're taking a break then get over here so I can run your diagnostics. Best get it out of the way while we have time."

"Aww, really now?"

"There's no telling when things could pick up, Decepticons aren't known for predictability. It's quiet and there's nothing pressing taking my attention so this is the best time," said Ratchet.

Smokescreen sighed, shoulders slumping. "Alright, I guess we should get it over with."

"Good luck kid," said Wheeljack with a wave as he walked off.

"I said don't you go anywhere, this isn't going to take that long," said Ratchet.

Wheeljack rolled his eyes, "Whatever you say," he paused as he looked over at Ratchet before adding, with a heavy coating of sarcasm and a teasing smirk, "sunshine."

Ratchet froze on the spot, nearly dropping what he was holding as his vents huffed loudly.

Smokescreen's gaze flickered between them, Ratchet grumbling to himself and Wheeljack looking proud of himself. Before his processors could kick in and warn him that what he was about to say was very stupid and he should keep the thought to himself, he spoke up and asked, "Why does Wheeljack call you sunshine?"

Ratchet's vents puffed even louder than before and he heard Wheeljack laugh.

"You are good to go Smokescreen. Now," said Ratchet through a clenched jaw, shooing him away the moment the scans finished.

Oh, oh he didn't like that tone of voice. Before he could dig the hole he'd put himself in deeper, Smokescreen hopped off and made himself scarce. Hopefully Ratchet wouldn't be too mad at him later.

If Ratchet was still mad the next morning, he did a good job at hiding it. Which was fine as it made it that much easier for Smokescreen to just, stuff the awkwardness of the previous day into the back of his servers and act like it hadn't happened. Which in turn made it easier to focus on what Ratchet was saying as he taught him how to apply mesh to superficial wounds.

"So Ratchet, what's the verdict?" asked Optimus.

Smokescreen drummed his fingertips anxiously, optics flicking between Optimus and Ratchet as the latter looked over the most recent diagnostic results. So far, nothing bad had turned up in them, they'd kept coming back just fine over the last few cycles, but all it would take was one bad day, one thing coming back wrong to set him back at square one.

"Well, in my professional, medical opinion," he looked up from the computer screen to Optimus and Smokescreen. "You are clear for active duty once again."

Smokescreen's optics lit up brightly and his back fins twitched excitedly. "Really? You're not pulling on my fan belts?"

"Yes Smokescreen, I'm serious. At this point if anything happens, if would likely have happened anyways. I can't keep you, or any of the team, grounded indefinitely on the chance that something might happen."

"I am glad to hear it Ratchet, it will be good to have Smokescreen back," said Optimus with a nod.

And it was none to soon either. No sooner had Ratchet given him the all clear, than the tell tale three tone beep sounded out in the base, followed shortly by Agent Fowler's voice.

"I hope you got all hands ready, we got a doozy today," he said. "Some suspicious 'Con activity, a lead on a possible Predacon bone and what could be an Energon mine. I'm sending you the coordinates for everything now."

"Thank you, Agent Fowler."

Smokescreen shifted about on the spot, anxiously waiting to find out what his mission would be. Any one of them sounded good to him.

"Arcee, Bulkhead, I'll leave the Predacon bone hunt in your hands. Bumblebee, you and Smokescreen will go and investigate what the Decepticons are up too. Recon only, do not engage unless absolutely necessary. And I will check out the mine."

As Optimus is spoke, Ratchet prepped the ground bridge, the familiar blue-green portal whirring to life.

"Alright Optimus, everything is ready to go."

The Prime nodded before addressing the rest of the team. "Then it's time to transform, and roll out!"

As they waited for the go-ahead to go through, Smokescreen spared a look back at Optimus and Ratchet, then ahead to Bumblebee and their mission.

The Prime's words from that day in the cave still hung heavy in his mind.

The makings of a Prime, that was what he'd said, and while Smokescreen still wasn't sure HE agreed that he was ready for THAT kind of responsibility and pressure, he did want to be a great leader and warrior someday, just like Optimus. Which meant he still had a lot to learn, like how to protect his teammates.

Someday he'd live up to what Optimus saw in him, he'd prove he could be a great warrior and leader, one step at a time.

He revved his engine as they were given the go-ahead and took off after Bumblebee and through the bridge.

And his first mission back seemed like a pretty good place to start.