Hey everyone! So this is an idea I've had drifting in my head, and I decided to type it up to see how it's received! So please let me know what you think of it, because I want to know if you all like it!

Real quick thanks to my friend, the awesome Rian Moeru, for looking over the chapter for me to let me know if I needed to fix anything that didn't make sense! If you like TFP stories that involve Jack, definitely go check out her stuff, and the story she and I both write together called "Distorted Reflections"! XD

Anyways, enjoy, and please let me know if you like this story so far and want to read more!

Jack wasn't sure why he returned to the construction sight among the warehouses. After the situation with M.E.C.H and Airachnid and...and his mother.

It had been nearly a week since then, and his mother was still in a coma after the entire ordeal, and she had yet to wake. With how precarious her health was, Jack was rarely allowed to see her for more than an hour at a time before he was ushered out so that the doctors could continue working on stabilizing her, and how Jack loathed being unable to see her and be at her side.

Jack knew he should hate this place now, after what had happened here, especially now with the government and Autobots talking in whispers, trying to figure out where Jack should go until his mom awoke.

If she woke up.

And yet here he was, standing in the dark at a quarter past nine and staring up at the giant structure that was only a third of the way built.

Jack knew he shouldn't have snuck out of his house. If the government-hired bodyguard woke up and found him missing...

Yeah. Arcee would have a fit.

But Jack couldn't help but wonder if he could've done something different, if he could've done more and prevented his mother from being hurt. If he'd just done one little thing more, or took a different path...

So that's why he now slowly moved along, peering into large, empty, metal storage compartments and examining crates curiously, eyes searching for something he could've done or used.

Despite the lot being empty, there was still a sense of foreboding, at least for Jack. This was where he'd nearly lost his life. This was where he'd nearly lost his mother.

This was where his mother had been knocked into a coma that no doctor was sure of its duration or if his mother would even wake ever again...

Jack shook those thoughts from his head, forcing himself to focus. He needed to know if there was something more he could've done, something he missed.

Sure, maybe he was just being paranoid. Either way, he was here now, so why not just check and make sure?

Reaching an especially large shipping container, Jack managed to pry the heavy doors open. It was dark, and empty-

Wait, no. It wasn't empty. There was a large cage in the back of the room-like container with a big, furry...something in it. It was too dark to tell, and so Jack crept closer, squinting. He pulled his phone from his pocket and flipped it open, using the light from the screen like a flashlight as he approached the heavy steel cage.

The form was breathing, Jack realized once he got close enough. It was covered in blueish-grey fur, but looked almost...Human, in form. An alien, like the 'bots? A person subjected to experiments courtesy of M.E.C.H? Either way, Jack wasn't about to leave whoever (or whatever, depending on just what the large beast of a humanoid was) to rot away or starve to death. It was a wonder that it- or he, considering the muscular build and flat chest, was alive after almost a week.

Slowly approaching, Jack almost reached out to touch the bars, but the whispering crackle from the cold metal alerted the teen to the fact that the walls of the cage were electrified.

But Jack was smart, and it only took a minute or so to find the wires that transmitted the electrical current to the cage. A few good, strong yanks and the wires were pulled free, the electricity sizzling away. Jack waited a few minutes, just to be safe, then he set aside his phone, leaving it open so the screen could continue to illuminate his surroundings as he reached forward to examine the locked cage door. The lock was electrical, and had needed a key card before Jack pulled the power. But now, after the cords had been pulled and the source of electricity for the lock was sapped away, the lock had sealed itself shut. A precaution, no doubt. But Jack was always good at improvising, and mechanics happened to be one subject he knew by heart.

Using a coin from his pocket, Jack managed to undo the screws on the front panel of the locking mechanism, revealing its inner-workings. It took a few tries, but Jack managed, in the end, to twist the correct wires together and unlock the cage door.

With a small crow of success, Jack grabbed his phone and hurried into the cell, finding that his worry for this being, oddly enough, outweighed his fear. Jack knelt beside the unconscious form, using his phone to examine them.

Jack's heart gave a violent twist when he found that the person (he figured it was a person, at least) was covered in injuries. Cuts littered the poor being's body, some crudely stitched in what Jack knew was the incorrect way, others only having scabbed over. Jack was now so very suddenly aware of the dried blood that coated the floor, and Jack found it a real wonder that the humanoid hadn't bled out. Jack couldn't see through the fur, but he was sure that there were bruises all over, and with how two fingers were bent at an odd angle, the teen knew that there were broken bones, too.

Not for the first time in his life, Jack wasn't quite sure what to do. He couldn't just leave this guy here! But he was so large, and no doubt heavy, how could he get him out of here? Either way, the person needed medical attention, and Jack knew he couldn't call 911, probably not even the 'bots! He was on his own, this time.

Jack glanced at the cage's open door uncertainly, mind scrambling.

He knew how to treat these injuries. He'd learned, thanks to his mother and her incurable worry for him. Jack was confident that he could set and splint the broken fingers, clean the cuts, redo the stitches and even handle any infections that had set in. But all the necessary supplies was at his home, his home where a government-appointed bodyguard was passed out on the couch, and an overly-concerned Arcee would be later, too. The body-guard never went into his room, and if he kept the wooden blinds of his window shut, then Arcee couldn't peek in. Jack didn't have to worry about Arcee running any heat-scans on the house, he knew that for sure, she respected privacy as much as the next person- er, Cybertronian. All the supplies he would need were upstairs too...

So all he had to do was somehow get this behemoth of a being upstairs and into his room without being noticed!

...Yeah. Easier said than done.

But Jack would manage it, either way. He had to.

He had to, or this person before him could very well die.

With his mom hanging on the edge of life, Jack wasn't about to leave this person to the same fate. He'd find a way, even if he had to drag the being to his home himself.

Jack was honestly believing in little miracles at this point.

Somehow, Jack had managed to find a wheelbarrow at the construction sight (okay, maybe that wasn't a miracle, more of him just utilizing equipment that every construction sight in the world had). It took him a good fifteen minutes, but with some effort he'd loaded the injured humanoid into the wheelbarrow. Once that was done, Jack had to take every backroad and alleyway he knew to avoid being spotted with his unusual cargo, and it took at least forty-five minutes to reach his house. He'd had to hide the wheelbarrow and humanoid, then checked to see if Arcee was home, or if the bodyguard in the living room was awake. Finding no Arcee and a snoring "babysitter", Jack was able to sneak in through the door in the garage with one of the giant humanoid's arms slung over his shoulder (and man, this guy was heavy, but Jack wasn't about to leave him out on the front lawn). Slowly, carefully, he half carried, half dragged his cargo along. It took about ten minutes of stumbling, quiet swearing and avoiding any creaky steps to get the furry human-like person up the stairs.

Jack didn't really care about blood on his sheets as he managed to slide the arm off of his shoulders and struggled to drag the humanoid onto his bed. Once the beastly being was settled on the small bed on its back, Jack went to hide the wheelbarrow he had borrowed (yes, borrowed, he would return it to the construction sight tomorrow, he promised himself).

After that was said and done, Jack hurried back upstairs and ransacked his mother's room and bathroom. As a nurse (and concerned, possibly paranoid mother), June kept quite a bit of high-end medical supplies at hand. While being in his mother's room reminded him of the woman's precarious situation, making his heart twist in his chest uncomfortably, Jack knew that his mother would understand his going through her belongings.

It didn't take too long to find all he needed and Jack quickly returned to his room, all the required supplies in his arms.

The furry humanoid was still where Jack had left him, unconscious on the bed. Pulling up the chair from his desk, Jack sat at the bedside and, trying to get comfortable since he would no doubt be here awhile, began the long, arduous process of tending his patient's wounds.

For four hours he sat there, only getting up twice (once to retrieve a wet washcloth and the other time to put it into the laundry and get a new, unbloodied wet cloth). While he was no doctor, June had taught him well in case of emergencies (this wasn't probably the kind of emergency his mother had imagined, but Jack figured it counted all the same). The teen redid each messy, ugly, undoubtedly painful stitch that had been done completely wrong. Every cut that had been left to scab, Jack had cleaned, treated in case of any infections that may have set in, and stitched those injuries, too.

Around the hour and a half mark, Jack realized that a fever had set in when he'd been treating a cut on his patient's forehead and felt how warm he was. That was when he'd gone to get the first damp cloth, hoping to ease the fever, if only a little. He'd then gone back to stitching the cuts, brow furrowed with worry and fingers aching from all the stitches he was having to do.

But he'd continued on all the same, and when he was sure that he'd treated every cut he could, Jack moved to the broken fingers on the being's right hand. He was more than a little nervous, but he knew he couldn't just leave the fingers untended. It was difficult, but Jack managed to set the bones, wincing when pained groans (decidedly human groans) left the poor, injured humanoid. Jack quickly splinted the two fingers, just like he'd been taught, then went to feel for a fever once again.

Finding the cloth dry and bloody, with a fever still settling over the humanoid, Jack went to get another wet cloth. That was at the three and a half hour mark.

For the last half hour, Jack sat and waited, watching to see if the fever got better or worse. Finally, after thirty minutes, Jack decided to try and sweat the fever out. He'd grabbed the spare blankets from his closet and piled them atop his giant of a patient.

And that left Jack standing at the bedside, wondering what to do now.

All he could really do was wait. And lock the door, that was another thing he could do. He had to keep his "babysitter" out, after all. He also should probably get a glass of water, he mused. His patient was no doubt dehydrated, and Jack knew with some patience he could coax some water down the humanoid's throat.

And after that? After that, Jack would get some sleep. It was roughly three in the morning, and he was exhausted.

This was going to be a long week, Jack could tell.