It was almost eerie, the way he looked when he was unconscious. Miko had seen sick, passed-out relatives in the hospital before, but it was different with Bulkhead. Here was the bot that was usually so full of noise and life, making huge sounds when he talked, or wailed out one of their favorite tunes, or even just moved; the bot whose face said so much without having to make any sound, and with one look or one word could make Miko feel so much more understood than she'd ever felt in her sheltered life. Here he was, completely still, optics closed, face blank.
She hadn't been scared in the Shadowzone, she wasn't usually scared by the Decepticons, and she found her own almost daily near-death experiences more thrilling than frightening.
But seeing her best friend in such a critical, helpless state scared her. It shook her to her core the way nothing else could, and she didn't like it.
She slid off Bulkhead's chest and frantically set up her electric guitar. Her hand shook as she plugged the cord into the amplifier. She hardly noticed its shrieking whine as her left fingers fumbled for the right strings.
"You're gonna be okay, Bulk," she said in a cracking voice. "We fixed you before, and we're gonna fix you again!"
"Miko."
She ignored Ratchet, who had seemingly come out of nowhere. She didn't notice or care. Only she could help Bulkhead now.
Miko struck the chord with experienced ease. The sound bounced off every wall and resonated through the entire space.
"Miko," Ratchet repeated, more firmly this time.
"W-wait, maybe it's not loud enough!" she tried, this time striking the same chord with increased force.
"Miko, he's...not coming back," Rachet murmured, a slight tremor underlying his voice.
"HOLD! ON!" she yelled, her voice creaking and rising with panic. She forced out the next few chords of the song, desperate aggression controlling each flick of her right wrist.
"Miko..."
"This isn't funny! Bulk, wake up!" she screamed past the lump in her throat. The next couple of chords screeched painfully out of the amp, before Miko finally hit a dead string.
She looked at his face, expressionless and empty.
"Bulk..." she whimpered, tears streaming down her face. An attempt to repeat his name only resulted in a loud, heaving sob. She dropped her guitar with a loud clatter, then dropped to her knees and buried her tear-stained face in her hands. The air felt cold and prickly on her skin, and with each sob, she understood more clearly how much emptier her life had become.
Miko shot up in her bed, the hot tears mingling with the cool sweat on her cheeks. They dripped off her chin onto her borrowed lacy bedsheets.
Just a dream, just a dream, she thought, furiously wiping her face clean.
Of course. Bulkhead was fine, they'd just talked about catching another monster truck rally a few hours ago, to reward him for working so hard through his physical therapy.
Though Bulkhead was usually her go-to bot, she decided that there was not good in having him see her like this. Not over him. What he needed from her now was tough love and tougher training. She figured she'd skip out on visiting him in the garage for tonight.
She combed a hand through her messy hair and released a small sob. Why was she still so distressed over a dream? And who else would understand?
Arcee.
The lithe, steely autobot had proved herself to be a good friend and a trustworthy confidante a few days earlier, at Cliffjumper's memorial spot. She'd offered her help in surprising empathy and compassion, along with stories about her former partners.
Miko recalled herself carelessly asking who Cliffjumper was upon her first meeting with Team Prime and cringed a little. Had she really been so tactless only months ago?
She figured that she couldn't go back to sleep in her current state, with the image of Bulkhead's fresh husk still in the front of her mind. She grabbed her cellphone of her bedside table and opened it as tears continued to pool in her eyes. As she scrolled through her contacts, the tears blurred and skewed the words and pictures.
She blinked them away. It was hard enough reading in a different language without all these turbulent emotions blinding her.
She scrolled through rapidly until she made it to Jack Darby's entry. Without a second thought, she pushed the green phone button and pressed the phone to her ear.
One ring.
Two rings.
"Mmrmph... Miko?"
Scrap. He'd picked up sooner than she'd anticipated, too soon for her to find the right words to explain herself.
Good old impulsive Miko, she thought wryly.
"Miko, I'm trying to sleep. You know, like a normal person that actually cares that he has school in the morning," Jack grumbled drowsily.
"Jack," she began quietly, her voice cracking with sleep deprivation and crying. "Can I...?" She began to cry audibly again.
Jack's voice was more awake and gentle this time. "Hey, what's wrong? Did anything happen?"
"It's just a bad dream," she sniffled. "Can I talk to Arcee?"
"Um, yeah, hold on," he replied.
The phone picked out the sound of bedsheets rustling as he presumably made his way out of bed, then footsteps, then the squeal of a doorknob turning -
"Hey, Miko? Um... If you ever need anything - I know I'm no Arcee and all that, but - if you want to talk, you know you can always come to me, too, right?"
She let out a noise that sounded a little like a sob and a lot like her normal chuckle. Good old Jack.
"Yeah, I know. Thank you, Jack, but this is more of a...feelings-jams-with-Arcee kind of moment, if you get me. But maybe next time?"
"Of course," he replied softly, before the creaking of a door opening founds its way through the phone.
She let a few stray tears roll down her cheeks during Arcee and Jack's brief, mumbling dialogue. Then, Arcee's clear, sharp voice came through.
"Miko?"
"Arcee!" she croaked.
"Jack told me you had a nightmare. What happened?"
Miko inhaled deeply, searching for the right words. She'd always been fluent in English, and consistently worked hard at improving her skill, from her sheltered life in Japan to her "rebellious slacker" days in the States. However, she always got the wording and grammar confused in her head under emotional duress, especially when she was trying to work against it.
"My dream...Bulkhead were - was..."
She began to sob again, huge tidal waves of fear and emotion racking at her small frame.
"Miko, it's okay. Take all the time you need."
Unused to this gentle, nurturing side of Arcee, she took a few ragged breaths in compliance, before sputtering the first words that rose from her throat:
"He - I dreamed he - he died - "
She spent about 30 minutes trying to describe the scenario, often having to go back and correct her sequence of events or grammar, sometimes even slipping into Japanese between sobs. (For these moments, Arcee would ask her to slowly repeat herself in English.)
"I was so scared," she cried, "and this time I couldn't do anything..."
"I know. Helplessness is scary. Especially when it comes to the people you care about. When I had to watch Tailgate..." her voice trailed off into softer volumes than Miko ever thought they could go.
"...Did you have nightmares about him, too?"
"...Not so much nightmares as, say, hallucinatory flashbacks. The memories would come back so strong, they felt real. Sometimes little pieces of the actual memory would change, and for a moment I wasn't sure what was real, all I'd feel in that moment was Tailgate, and Airachnid, and..." Miko heard her take a shuddering breath before continuing. "Then... Cliff died, and I'd remember their deaths together or get them mixed up sometimes..." Arcee gulped, then added, "It was hard. But...thankfully, I've been able to receive healing more quickly this time around."
"'Cause you have Team Prime?" Miko asked with a small smile.
Arcee chuckled gently. "Yeah, Team Prime's been...what I've needed and more. They've carried me through a lot... Maybe especially Jack. I had to expose him to some of my personal demons earlier on than I wanted to, but...he was fearless. I think it was for the best."
"You're getting soft, Arcee," Miko joked in a hiccuped sob.
"So is Bulkhead," she teased back. "You've been the biggest motivator towards his healing."
Another lump formed in Miko's throat, this time more welcome, somehow. She forcefully gulped it down. "Really?"
"Yeah. You keep him going, even under all the frustration. He's still here, and you've got a bond with him that'll only make him stronger."
"...Thank you," was all Miko could think to say.
"Of course. Look, I can't promise that the nightmares will stop right away, but what you can do is remind yourself of reality once you've woken up. Repeat those things to yourself, out loud if you need to. You know I'm a phone call away if you want to talk to me. Just remember: it's a dream. That's all it is, a product of fear and brain activity. It's not real."
"Right," Miko said, wiping away the last of her tears. "Thanks, Arcee."
"You're welcome, Miko. I'll see you tomo - "
"Wait!"
"Yes?"
Miko smirked a little to herself. "Jack's sworn to secrecy about tonight. On his life."
She could hear Arcee smiling through her voice. "Of course. Sleep well."
"See you tomorrow, 'Cee."
She ended the call, but kept her phone open to scroll through pictures of her bulky autobot friend. There he was, as always, huge and grinning. Just like she saw him the day before, and just how she knew she'd see him later that day.
She smiled to herself as she laid back on her side. This is reality, she thought, and we're gonna fight to keep it like this.
A/N: It's a little embarrassing to upload something I wrote two years ago, but I figured my account could use a little more content anyway. (It's so weird to find out that I have a multific that I haven't updated since I was in middle school!) Anyway, this pretty much goes back to the time when I was really into oneshots about characters comforting one another after nightmares. Thanks for reading!