Author Notes: This is the first time I've published a story here on , so reviews and critics are welcome! ^_^ Also, Transformers do not belong to me, as well as the song lyrics.

I Need a Doctor

I'm about to lose my mind
you've been gone for so long
I'm running out of time
I need a doctor
call me a doctor
I need a doctor, doctor
to bring me back to life/b

Ratchet gazed out of his side-view mirror, concern cycling throughout his circuits. He and Ironhide were given a mission, a small one, by Optimus to scan the area for Decepticons that were rumored to be there. Ironhide and he required being in their alt modes, and Ironhide had insisted with his stubborn attitude that he would patrol the area, and that Ratchet should stay on watch. He had promised a safe return an hour after he left.

That was three hours ago.

Ratchet started his engine once more, idling in the deserted streets of an abandoned town. He was torn, pulled between remaining here in case the old rust-bucket had lost track of time, and going out in search for him for fear of something gone wrong. After trying to connect a comm. with him and receiving no response, he finally decided the latter, and screeched into another street. He winced internally, as he didn't often do that, and veered down another street, frantically searching for his battle partner, and best friend. He nearly slammed on his breaks and swerved into an old barn out of surprise from a loud Boom. Instead he sped toward the explosion.

I told the world one day I would pay it back
Say it on tape, and lay it, record it
So that one day I could play it back
But I don't even know if I believe it when I'm saying that
Y'all starting to creep in, everyday it's so grey and black
Hope, I just need a ray of that
Cause no one see's my vision when I play it for 'em
They just say it's whack
They don't know what dope is
And I don't know if I was awake or asleep
When I wrote this,
All I know is you came to me when I was at my lowest
You picked me up, breeding life in me
I owe my life to you
But for the life of me, I don't see why you don't see like I do
But it just dawned on me you lost a son
See this light in you, it's dark.
Let me turn on the lights and brighten me and enlighten you
I don't think you realize what you mean to me
Not the slightest clue
Cause me and you were like a crew
I was like your sidekick
You gon' either wanna fight me when I get off this f*cking mic
Or you gon' hug me
But I'm not an option, there's nothing else I can do cause…

Flashback; He was on Cybertron, speeding toward his destination in Iacon, avoiding a possible offlining as a missile went off to his left with a loud booming noise. He passed many explosions, transforming at one point to run to the sidelines of the main battle, jumping down many layers of streets to reach it, ducking and weaving through and past many bombs, ammo, swords and other means of war, pulling out his med pack as he finally reached the makeshift field medbay, merging with other medics and doctors, most currently occupied with the injured or otherwise dragging them to the 'safe' spot. His optics scanned the area, coming to a rest on a certain warrior, kicking other medics away, grumbling nonsense.

He rushed in, asking what he could do. The others had simply shaken their helms, and abandoned the large mech. Stubbornly, as he was taught to treat everyone in need, he knelt down to the dying mech, and hesitantly reached out a servo to the other's shoulder. The mech onlined his optics, and looked like he was about to grumble more nonsense, like he didn't want to be treated, to be saved. But he didn't. Ratchet had gently asked him what was wrong, which had startled the mech. He grumbled about not wanting to go on, that he wasn't worth it. Ratchet had shaken his helm, and told him otherwise. That how could he know he wasn't worth it, if he didn't try?

The mech had gone quiet, and told him to not waste energy on him, slipping into an injured stasis. But Ratchet was stubborn. He wouldn't let someone waste away their life. Instead, he had used this to his advantage, fixing him, healing him, dragging him closer to the rest of the injured. The others had looked down at him, told him they wouldn't fix him if he wanted to offline. So he had personally taken him under his wing, fixing him, seeing to his needs, transporting him to a proper medbay when that battle had ended.

When the other medics were ambushed, and offlined, he was the only medic left in that region. The only one left in Iacon. He had accepted that, and stepped up to the plate, fixing every being that came into that room, even the ones spilling out into the hallway. He worked endlessly, and once they were at a time before major battles, a time lasting only a few days, he finally rested, but not before checking up on the mech he had originally saved. He was online, watching him work silently.

They had conversed, introducing themselves. The mech's name was Ironhide, and the reason he had given up was because he just failed to protect someone he cared about. She was killed on front of his optics, and he had let himself be injured, be dragged kicking to the medics. Ratchet had talked to him, calming him, confessing he lost his only family member when the war had first started. That he had moved on, healing people, so he could make a difference. This confession encouraged Ironhide, and the two had since then become friends.

I'm about to lose my mind
You've been gone for so long
I'm running out of time
I need a doctor
Call me a doctor
I need a doctor, doctor
To bring me back to life

He gunned down the streets, veering left and right until he came upon what had exploded. It was an old run down gas station, abandoned like the rest, and it was up in flames. Screeching to a halt, Ratchet transformed, pulling out his Cybertronian machine gun. A plane flew by, only a few feet off of the ground. It was an F22 Raptor. Starscream. He shot until at him until he was a speck in the sky, while the 'Con laughed ominously. Lowering his gun, and replacing it with his servo, he ran to the blaze, scanning the mess.

A groan and a beep from his scanner told him what he needed to know. He entered the blaze, ignoring all signs and alarms of systems overheating and melting, reaching out for what he sought. His servos found purchase, and he dragged the injured Ironhide out from the blaze, dropping him and kneeling over his damaged and burned body a safe distance away. He immediately set after stabilizing him, fixing what he could in as little time as he could manage.

He stopped after he was done a while after, his engines whining, his fans whirring, trying to cool him down and repair damage done to himself. A servo rested on his shoulder, and he looked up into Ironhide's gaze.

I'm about to lose my mind
you've been gone for so long
I'm running out of time
I need a doctor
call me a doctor
I need a doctor, doctor
to bring me back to life
bring me back to life
bring me back to life

(I need a doctor, doctor
to bring me back to life)

"Thanks, Ratch." Came the gruff reply, and all Ratchet could do was stare at him for a moment and nod. "That's what I'm here for. Though it'd help if you stopped injuring yourself so often, or actually told me Starscream was here." He chastised, gently and playfully hitting him on the shoulder. Ironhide snorted, but grinned weakly at him. "Well, 'thought I had 'em." He tried to sit up, but he fell back with his engines scraping against parts that sounded unnatural. Ratchet rolled his optics, and helped him get back up, his arm around Ironhide's shoulders, supporting his weight. Which was damn heavy, if he might say so himself.

"C'mon." he grunted under the Weapon Specialist's weight. "Let's get you back to base."

I'm about to lose my mind
you've been gone for so long
I'm running out of time
I need a doctor
call me a doctor
I need a doctor, doctor
to bring me back to life