Transformers aren't mine. the end.

AN: Just a random story that I wrote one day. Hope you like it

Ratchet stared thoughtfully into the monitor, his optics fixed on a single line the held only a few words. He had been staring at it for the majority of the morning, some how baffled by its meaning. Not that he didn't understand what it said; rather, he didn't understand why it said what it did.

The line had been presented to him by Wheeljack while the engineer had been performing an annual update of all the Autobots medical profiles. When he'd seen what it said he immediately Ratchet. Now the Chief Medical Officer sat pondering three small words that refused to be changed, despite Ratchet's innumerable attempts.

His fist pounded the consol in front of him, frustrated beyond temporary reason. A few buttons flew off, clattering to the floor around him. He had never liked working with these machines; they were slow and overly complicated in their security protocols. Why Wheeljack insisted on using them was something he didn't even want to comprehend, something he doubly didn't want to discuss. It didn't matter how many times the two had talked about it, it always ended with a grumpy Ratchet that gave into the infiltration paranoid Wheeljack.

It wasn't as though the words he was trying to change were very important. They were mostly just agitating in what they implied. Ratchet picked the 'A' key off the ground and tried to punch the button back into its original position on the keyboard. When this failed he threw it at the screen, chipping the heavy glass at the center. A small, defeated sigh escaped as he sunk lower into his seat.

Who ever had changed the status of this particular Autobot, must have realized the aggravation it would cause to the CMO. They must have also known how to use the system better than Ratchet ever could, a fact that served to anger him even more. As he sat, slouched in his seat, Ratchet began to ponder the motives behind this action.

Why did they only change the status? What was the purpose, if not to annoy him? Who would do something like this? He could think of half a dozen off the top of his head that could have done such a thing, but none of them were on Ratchet's 'good list' at the moment, and so, knew better than to annoy the CMO beyond his limits. He looked up into the monitor to read the words again, each word sticking to his mind, dragging it down. "Out of service."

"What the hell is that suppose to mean?" he shouted at the chipped screen. Next to these words was the picture of the Autobot they pertained to. Ratchet had never liked the photo. It looked silly, too professional; if such a thing was possible. Why they had chosen his profile, of all the Autobots they could have selected, was yet more maddening.

Without bothering to sign out the system, Ratchet stood and left the room. He had spent enough of his time fighting with that consol that he no longer cared if anyone hacked the system using his ID. His stomps echoed down the hall as he sulked to the rec room. The doors opened with a grating sound, a reminder that some of the Autobots were more physical than others, revealing a mostly empty room with scattered tables and chairs. In the far corner sat Perceptor, Wheeljack, and Trailbreaker. The three laughed heartily at a joke made by the Jeep, but quieted as Ratchet approached. It would have been nearly impossible for them not to notice immediately the sour expression on the CMO's face.

"What's so funny gentlemen? I'm in need of a good laugh right now," he said, pulling up a chair opposite Perceptor and placing a small container of Energon that he grabbed from the dispenser on the table.

"Well, we were just reminiscing about that time Jazz caught the Dinobots tossing Minibots. You should have seen the face on Brawn as he flew! Priceless!" Trailbreaker laughed, slapping the table, bent forward and came back up with a grimace stretched across his face and his optic widened with mock surprise.

"If you think that was good you should have heard the things he said when he was in the repair bay. You remember, don't you Ratchet?" Wheeljack turned to his friend, hoping to better the mood he was emanating.

"Yeah," Ratchet smiled. "He was saying the most awful things about Wheeljack and me for just creating the Dinobots. Then Prime walked in after the battle to check on everything and heard the things he was saying. I thought Optimus was going to explode. Of course, it wasn't pleasant to be verbally reamed by a Minibot, but it was all worth it to see Brawn chewed out by Prime."

"That wasn't the best part either," Wheeljack continued from Ratchets last point. "You should have seen the boss-man when he found out the Minibot/Jazz tossing. I've never seen this place in such a state of chaos, not even after that time the Constuticons were fighting the Dinobots in the base. Things were a mess for weeks."

The four took a moment to recover from fits of laughter before they continued with their small talk. Ratchet casually sipped his Energon as the other three discussed recent events. The Decepticons were planning another raid on an air base, but the Autobots were already taking measures to stop them; Hound was out with Cliffjumper at the moment, relaxing and enjoying their time off; and Red Alert and Inferno were trying to start up a soccer game for the weekend. Ratchet was just beginning to feel really good when Wheeljack mentioned the glitch he found earlier in the CMOs profile.

"Have you fixed that line yet?" the inventor asked tentatively, yet curious.

"No," he said tersely, still sore about the matter.

"What line? What's wrong?" Perceptor leaned forward. He was still new on Earth and learning the medical systems, as well as everything else that was around him.

"The status of Ratchet's profile says 'out of service' and he's been trying to fix it all morning. Its looks like the system is locked up," Wheeljack said, then added a bit quieter for dramatic effect, "I tried to do something about it first, but it didn't work. I don't know why I asked Ratchet to play with it. He hates that thing."

Perceptor stiffened then moved back in his seat. His gestures turned nervous and jerky, a reaction Ratchet recognized at once, having dealt with the twins for so long.

"What's wrong Perceptor?" he asked tilting his head slightly to one side.

"I was testing the system, to see if I knew how to use it, and I changed the status. I didn't think you would mind. Then the computer froze up and I didn't know what to do, so I left it alone. I was going to tell you, but I forgot. I'm sorry," the scientist cowered a little, unsure of how the other would react, "I thought you would know how to fix it."

Ratchet stared for a moment, unable to decide how to best handle this news. Perceptor didn't know any better, so he couldn't really be punished. The aggravation from this morning was something he dealt with regularly when handling troublemakers.

"It's alright," he shook his head, "but I'm going to let you figure out how to change that line. I'm finished with that thing."