1. Denial
Carrion will never completely recover the story of what happened. He was involved so marginally.
He remembers the Air Commander going down. That will never leave him. It shouldn't have happened, which is why (he thinks) he can't forget it.
Laying in the medical bay, he sees Starscream's body plummeting from the prow of the Nemesis. That's what he remembers the best; seeing that familiar figure tumbling through the air toward the ground. If he cares too, his memory will put him back in the moment. He doesn't enjoy it, but it occupies time while his pain sensors are off and Knock Out is doing whatever it is he thinks he can do to repair him.
Starscream tips off the edge of the Decepticon ship, and Carrion can do nothing but watch. He shouldn't even be doing that. He's supposed to be pretending to have nothing to do with Starscream now, so no one can connect him to the plot should it fail. He's supposed to be being a good soldier and fighting the enemy.
Starscream's body falls a few thousand feet, and judging by the loose, uncoordinated way it drops, a body is all it is. Dust plumes around it as it crashes, and someone shrieks in negation or rage, and it's about then that Carrion feels the hammer-like fist of another bot connect with his head.
He's always been generally useless in a fight because at the first sign of injury he'll take off. If the enemy is larger and escape is an option, he'll almost always run. He's a better sniper than brawler. When that fist connects with his head, hitting hard from one side, he feels delicate gears stripping and wires snapping, can actually hear his optic shatter, and it hurts. But in all this confusion and pain, he reflexively turns, arm raised, and with all the force he can muster, sinks his claws into the face of the Autobot that hit him.
There should have been satisfaction in the way the larger mech screamed, in the way his claws sank into the most fragile portion of his enemy, but there is only a burning desire to get away, to get to where that body had fallen, to make sure they can escape. He transforms in midair, knowing his alt mode to be capable of getting him to where he needs to be much faster than his legs, but he's hardly halfway to the crash site when someone's laser canon catches one of his wings.
Not having gained much altitude, he skids along the ground, scraping and tearing his armor on the rough terrain. Grounded now, wing hot and smoldering and with pieces breaking off, he has no choice but to resume his normal form, running.
It's harder to steer his way through the battlefield with only one optic. He finally makes it into the shadow of the Nemesis when there is a bright flash behind him, searing pain, and very suddenly, the ground in his face. He tries to get up and fails. Every bit of him hurts now; it feels like his armor is stripped back to the core metals, leaving him vulnerable and agonized. Something strikes his back and is knocked loudly away, but he hardly notices. For a time, blackness consumes him.
The next thing he knows, someone has picked him up. There is a good deal of red and yellow and steel-blue surrounding him, and from out of his very blurry, very poor line of sight, a familiar voice says to 'get the sparkling to the medical bay'. That voice should be a too-smooth, cozening purr but now it's an angry growl.
Really, there isn't much he remembers after that. Certainly nothing that's important. He may have struggled a bit when he realized that he was being put in one of the medical bay's berths, hooked up to life support. Of course, even in his best condition, there wasn't much he could do against Breakdown. For a while, he assumed, he was put into power-down mode.
He was brought back online to the sound of clicking claws, something tapping against his chest plate. Knock Out hovered over him, moving his claws from Carrion's chest to his face, twisting it from side to side without a word before releasing him with a little mumble that could have been disappointment or dismissal.
"A marvelous job you've done of getting yourself wrecked." The automobile drawled, entering some information into the computer. "I always knew you had scrap for a processor, but I wasn't aware of this desire to go for a matching build." Carrion replied to the poor-excuse-for-a joke with a low growl, trying to push himself up off the berth; it surprised him when the medic turned back toward him and with surprising delicacy pushed him back down. "Ah-ah-ahh, Carrion. You're in no condition."
Because he was tired and drained and had just woken from having his aft kicked, he complied and lay still. Despite there being no pain (he assumed Knock Out had deigned remember to initiate the block), his body felt tense and stiff. He tried to calculate the damage he'd taken, and found he could not. The battle had been too much of a blur.
All that stood out was the memory of Starscream, tumbling through the air. His working optic widened and he tried to sit up again, this time with moderately more success. Knock Out had to shove him to get him to lay back down.
"You," The medic hissed, his normally silken voice drawn tight, "are going to stay down like a good sparkling, or I will personally put your pain sensors back online, before removing every inch of lacquer off your armor by hand. Understand?"
Glaring at the older mech, Carrion resisted for a moment, pushing against the claws that held him down. Because his mind was muddy with exhaustion and worry, not because he was concerned about the older mech's stupid threats, he relaxed a bit, and Knock Out took a step backward, sneering down at him until he asked, "Where is Starscream?"
His own voice surprised him; the syllables were muddied and undefined, each movement of his mouth and jaw accompanied by the clicking and squealing of damaged gears.
The other looked equally taken aback, the characteristic look of arch superiority slipping off his face. "He's… ah… well you were there, weren't you? Before you got yourself half-scrapped anyway."
"I saw him fall." The young jet said, working the words out with the slow effort of one who's jaw does not quite wish to comply with the motions. He twisted in his position to try looking around the room. It did no good; with a combination of the lighting and his location, he couldn't see much around them at all. "Why isn't he the one you're repairing? Shouldn't you be making snide comments at him instead?"
"Ahh," Knock Out sighed, looking somewhat uncomfortable. "You should know that I take no pleasure in telling you this, but… Starscream could not survive that fall. No one could have."
Carrion stared at the medic, finding the news impossible to believe. The only thing his processor could furnish as an excuse was that Knock Out had a twisted sense of humor, and did enjoy getting a rise out of him.
It was unfeasible, the idea that he would survive while Starscream... It couldn't happen. With all that he owed the Air Commander, the idea that he could just be gone was wrong. It was unfair. Life couldn't be jilted that way, wouldn't work that way. It was completely illogical that a war-hardened soldier could fall when a scrapling like himself still lived.
Scowling myopically at the red mech, he shook his head in negation. "You're not funny, scrap-face."
He heard the rapid click of keys stutter and still for a second. "Nor am I trying to be." Knock Out muttered, moving back to Carrion's side. "I have a lot of work to do on you that I think would go ever so much faster if you shut up," He said before the young seeker would have a chance to continue arguing. "It is obvious that your processing capabilities, such as they ever were, have not suffered too much damage. I'll return you to power down and get back to work."
Power down sounded good; not having to think or remember or face anything. Settling back against the berth, ignoring the bizarre sensation of the edges of deadened metal bending in toward his chassis. He took one last long look at the lights of the medical bay ceiling, and then was gone.
In the days that followed, as more of his repairs were completed, Carrion managed to remain silent long enough that Knock Out allowed him to stay on full power, making some simple repairs of his own. It gave him something to do to fill the empty spaces of time, rather than dwell on the battle he'd only just made it out of.