The Decepticons had won.

At least, that's what Ratchet had convinced himself after fleeing to a Scrapyard following the Decepticon's attack on Autobot Outpost Omega 1. He had lost everything. Even worse, Optimus Prime had destroyed the Omega Lock- the only hope the Autobots had of restoring Cybertron to its former glory, and going home. Everything had gone from bad to worse in the span of only a few minutes.

Ratchet, stricken with grief at the assumption that Optimus had died in the destruction of their base, didn't know what to do anymore. He didn't know who else was alive, if anyone. He was completely alone.

Other than you.

You had been with Team Prime since the beginning. Despite Ratchet's rather rough-around-the-edges personality, you had warmed up to him quickly. You followed him practically everywhere when you could, studying with him, observing his medical procedures, and whatever else. Even now, you stuck with him in the scrapyard.

For the most part, he ignored you. He didn't want to hear it, whatever you had to say. He'd stubbornly turn away, or transform into his alt mode and drive off to who knows where for a few hours. He was beyond convincing, it seemed.

You could see the toll it was taking on him. He was practically a shell of his former self- though you refused to believe he would remain this way. The stubborn, but unrelenting Ratchet you knew had to be in there somewhere- and the more you pried, the closer you'd get to uncovering it.

So, here you were, preparing for another attempt to get Ratchet to open up. It was early in the morning, and the sun was just barely poking over the horizon. Ratchet was in his alt-mode, facing a large pile of scrap, clearly not wanting to be bothered.