A/N: I wanted a good angsty read, and couldn't find anything in my searching, so I decided to write one. :) Hope you enjoy!
Pain. Flashing pain, arrowing through his systems, needling into his wires, sparking over him.
It hurt to move.
His systems whirred slowly.
Lists of damage popped up.
On and on the scrolling text went, listing the damages to his frame.
The wounds were many and numerous.
He was dying.
He wouldn't make it.
Something tickled the back of his processor briefly, then dissipated. A memory? A command?
A pained whine trickled from his vocals, falling off into a harsh, static-filled noise.
He imagined he could feel the Energon seeping slowly from his frame, soaking into the ground, leaving a bare mark to indicate his final resting place.
It was funny, in a way.
Nothing would ever grow where he lay again, his Energon tainting the earth thoroughly. He would never be fully forgotten, after all.
Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice the presence until it was on top of him. His sensors alerted him dully, and altogether too late.
Panic, faint in the back of his processor, stirred, and he exvented harshly, sending more pain racing through his chassis.
Something touched him.
Whoever was leaning above him was touching him.
A weak snarl fluttered in his vocals, then he fell away into darkness.
When he woke again, his pain was dull, reduced to lapping along his circuits like waves.
Briefly, weakly, he wondered if it was because his receptors were so damaged. Something jarred his frame, and he keened, high-pitched.
"Shh, shh," someone soothed, ghosting a servo over his helm. Hisses spurted from his vocals, and he blindly bit at the servo.
It was yanked away swiftly, and disappointingly, his denta clicked shut on empty air. Alarmed mutters swelled briefly around him, then faded as he sank again into darkness.
He was aware he was waking up. It was like swimming up through an oil lake, feeling weightless and surrounded by darkness.
He didn't make any particular attempt to fully resurface, and so floated on the brink of stasis.
If he focused, he could hear faint noises. Words, maybe, or perhaps screams.
His screams?
He didn't bother trying to find out.
Pain, bright and flashing, brought him surging online, straining to move, to escape the cause of the pain.
High-pitched noises worked their way free of his strangled vocals, and he tumbled from the berth with a clatter that went unheard as he briefly blacked out.
He was up again in a spark beat, working to drag himself away from the pain's source.
But you can't escape yourself.
Lights flashed on suddenly, and he wondered if his optics had shorted out before he made out an onrushing shape.
Dragging himself onto all fours, he snarled at the forms, sliding himself backwards until he hit something firm.
Keeping his front toward the attackers, he tried to drag himself toward a nearby corner but fell, his weak servos unable to hold him up.
The shapes moved forward again, pausing at his renewed snarling. His optics cleared more, and he could make out colors.
Red, white, blue, green, blue.
Their optics were blue.
That meant they were Autobots.
Autobots were a disturbed faction, and their prisoners were rarely heard from again.
Panic overrode his pain, and he managed to drag himself to the corner, where he curled up, armor shaking pitifully as he tried to keep a wary optic on the Autobots.
They seemed to be advancing slowly, but the room dipped and whirled, and he inwardly cursed the integrity of his optics.
He sank down into darkness once more.
His dreams were filled with pain and terror, and he resurfaced more than once, enough to hear screaming.
It was probably his.
He didn't know how long he floated in the comforting dark abyss, but he became aware when something poked his processor.
An intruder.
He rose slowly, warily. The intruder was still outside his firewalls, patiently waiting.
He didn't trust them.
He could wait, too.
But up here, aware in his mind, he could feel the pain, dull, but there.
He wished for the quiet, dark, solitude of unconsciousness.
He began to slip quietly downwards.
The intruder poked again at his firewalls.
Then again.
Insistently.
'what do you want?' he asked weakly. Hated himself for sounding weak.
The intruder moved closer. 'to speak with you.'
'we have spoken. now leave me be.' he said, moving away.
'who are you?' the intruder asked.
'i. . . do not know.'
'what happened to you?'
'i don't know.'
He felt tired.
'do you truly not know or do you not want to know?'
The intruder attempted to ask several more questions, but he ignored them all in favor of sinking down into that comforting blackness again.
He liked it down here.
He didn't want to leave.
He didn't want to re-enter the world where you had to be careful what you said, where you had to be careful about what you said, you had to be careful carefulcarefulcareful
He tasted Energon.
It brought him up enough that he could lay quietly, enjoying this pleasant taste.
He could still hear.
"I don't think he'll live."
The words seeped slowly into his processor before he processed them.
He listened more attentively.
"He's weak, in both mind and body. I doubt he'll survive much longer. You should stop wasting our supplies on him."
"I must try."
He sank lower, contemplating these words.
Someone out there wanted him alive.
Someone wanted him offline.
He guessed that more bots wanted him dead than alive.
For what?
What was he good for?
Nothing.
Maybe they wanted to torture him.
The Autobots, after all. It was most likely that torture was in his near future.
He didn't want to wake up to more of that.
He sank low and lost himself.
The only thing he remembered was the harsh words, the brutal beatings, both physical, verbal, and mental.
It was what it was.
They swarmed through his processor, endlessly circling him, chanting it loudly, whispering it softly.
'You are nothing.'
'You deserve to be dead.'
'There is nothing important about you.'
'I wish you never existed.'
'Stop wasting our supplies on him.'
'You are a waste of time.'
'Of Energon.'
'Of space.'
'We were happy without you.'
'No one will ever love you.'
'Die.'
'Die.'
'Die.'
They were all he knew.
Until the voice came.
Soft and gentle, it echoed faintly of kinder words, of happier times.
He focused on that voice, listened as it spun tales of grandeur, tales of brave warriors rescuing fair maidens on great fire-breathing creatures called dragons.
Brave soldiers, returning to their families after a hard war.
A pleasant afternoon.
The taste of sweet Energon.
Of crystal cities, built high upon rocky mountains, filled with wonderful creatures.
Of happy families, who weathered through trials together.
Of. . . love.
He grasped these words, held onto them like a lifeline, listened to them, saved and replayed them until the dark words faded.
He didn't realize that he had been floating upwards until his optics onlined.
Red optics sought out blue optics.
Blue continued scanning the data pad they read from, oblivious to their audience.
Blue glanced up.
Red met blue.
And red smiled.