Ratchet shutters his optics, still and silent for a long moment. He knows they need the Matrix--knows they need Optimus back--but he lets himself grieve for his friend, too.

Not for long, though. He raises his head after a minute, his mouth crimping wryly. "You'd better," he says, just a little bit of that familiar, warm exasperation back in his voice. "It's not fun, having to threaten you to get you to rest every so often, you know. Though I suspect it would take some kind of miracle beyond the Matrix's abilities to make you any less stubborn."