Ratchet gawked for a moment, processor practically rebooting from the unexpected command; a command that had him taking a step toward the door on instinct before he caught up with himself. Even more surprising was how much Megatron's demand worked toward freeing him from whatever spell the Prime had briefly put him under.

"-Slaggit Prime, you're both still injured-!"

"And we're not going to keel over and go grey in the next five breems." Optimus growled back, the pain of his own injuries forgotten in the face of this half-unraveled mystery.

Ratchet shook his head, glancing between the two of them. "Optimus. Whatever this is-"

"You can repair us after I figure it out. Now leave!" His voice rose up into an uncharacteristic bellow. He was the Prime and this was between him and his-

His Own. Whatever it was.

Wisely, Ratchet nodded reluctantly, and turned to the doors fairly quickly.