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"M-MEDIC!"
Ratchet drove off of the road the minute he heard the cry. It came from a hill about a mile off, a hill with a mine in it...a collapsed mine. He could sense one...two? energy readings from it.
"H-he-he needs help." The patient speaking was a green-and-purple groundformer with a large chemical mixer on his back; scuffed and dented but much better off than the mech resting across his tank. That one was in bad shape, wires and joints exposed everywhere, unable to hold on his own....and his friend was carrying in his arms a shovel. Missing piece from the other mech, no doubt.
"I'm a doctor, I'm here to help--here let me work on him..." Ratchet moved carefully around behind to get a look at the other mech.
His less injured friend stared at Ratchet suspiciously for a second. "You are Ra-ratchet." He handed Ratchet the shovel, carefully, and then turned his back, offering his friend. "Do a good job. I will pr-provide materials you need."
It was usually more of a nuisance than anything else, but sometimes being one of Cybertron's best-known doctors was a blessing. "Of course." Materials? He took the shovel gently--twisted, and the connections were shattered but otherwise in good shape--pulled out his tools, and started initial work on the mech's wounds. The energon lines were in better shape than Ratchet had expected. Or more precisely: they were not bleeding out, but most of them were covered with a substance Ratchet couldn't identify.
"What is this on him?" Ratchet scraped carefully at one of the main lines.
"To st-st-stop the bleeding. Not p-p-poisonous I promise. Comes off easy. Can get better replacement in drum..." He opened it up.
Ratchet for the first time looked at the other mech as, well, another mech rather than a potential patient or a potential barrier to a patient.
He was working on the back of Cybertron's most eminent chemist. "Mixmaster?" And the other one...must be one of his associates. Weren't there more of them? Ratchet eyed the mineshaft. "Are the rest of you still down there?"
"No-no-no...the others are at another site. Too far to come here. It's just Sc-sc-scavenger and me." A pause. "There should be more p-p-permanent sealent in the right....and wiring and sheet metal to the l-l-left...."
"...thank you." Ratchet had some on him, of course. But Mixmaster was well known for his expertise, and he wouldn't come up with anything that would hurt his partner.
Ratchet worked in silence for a time, stabilizing Scavenger's condition and starting to put him back together again. Mixmaster provided materials eagerly--how, Ratchet was not sure; it was a good thing that Ratchet was not trying to mend those systems--and made himself as steady a working surface as Ratchet could ask for.
Finally Scavenger was stable enough to be moved. "I need to work on his back, now. I can take him off of your tank."
"N-n-n-no! No, he needs--just turn him over. Keep him on me."
"...fine." Mixmaster had been a more than adequate table up to this point, after all, and his assistance had been valuable. He turned over Scavenger and started working on his rear plating.
"He needs his t-t-tail. You have to get it on and get all the connections right before he comes online--here I have the schematics--" Mixmaster opened up a datalink on his back.
"I should be able to..." Ratchet examined the tail's structure. It was an incredibly intricate tool--mineral sensors, Ratchet thought, but the types were as far beyond his expertise as Mixmaster's drum. "Fine." He extended a universal connector from his wrist and connected to Mixmaster.
The dataflow was chemically specific, full of atomic structures and instructions for manufacturing alloys. It took Ratchet some processing to extract the information he needed. There was an overflow of anxiety on the edges, but Ratchet was used to that. "Got it." Ratchet said, and pulled himself off.
Mixmaster made a distressed noise at the broken connection, but allowed Ratchet to work on the tail. The job was slow and painstaking, but with Mixmaster's information, doable.
Finally, it was done. "Not quite as good as new," he said to Mixmaster. "But he should be fine with a little stasis and some touch ups once you get back to civilization."
"Take him off my back for me?" Mixmaster asked. Ratchet carefully lifted Scavenger off and placed him on the ground. Mixmaster inspected him carefully, from helm to tail. "Tha-tha-thank you. Ratchet."
"Do the two of you need help getting back."
"No. The others will be here soon. I should--you should have--I will give you the formula for the wound sealant." Mixmaster pulled out a small datapad from his subspace and started imputing to it.
"It's not necessary--"
"It IS." Mixmaster handed it to Ratchet.
Ratchet nodded, and subspaced it. "Thank you." Ratchet turned to leave.
"No--" Mixmaster said. "Please. Stay. For Scavenger."
"I really should go--"
Mixmaster grabbed Ratchet in a surprisingly strong grip. "No. Please. Scavenger can't...we were supposed to be back with the others by now."
"Fine. Just in case anything goes wrong."
Mixmaster beamed. "Excellent!" He settled down on one side of Scavenger and pulled Ratchet down on the other, wrapping his arms firmly around his friend, settling Scavenger's shovel around his legs. It was a very intimate thing to be watching, and Ratchet rather uncertainly settled down on the other side of Scavenger, hand still held in Mixmaster's.
"Scavenger does not like coming online alone," Mixmaster explained.
Sure. Scavenger does not. "All right. I'll give him a check up after he comes out of stasis."
"Thank you," said Mixmaster, and slipped into a light recharge cycle then and there. Tired, no doubt, from digging his friend out and supporting him during the repairs.
Ratchet examined the wounds on Mixmaster's arm. If he could only get at his tools--but as soon as he moved, Mixmaster just held on tighter.
It was surprisingly comfortable with the two of them. Ratchet settled down to wait.