~~The Spark Transplant~~

By Ayngel

*Warnings:* Some light non-sticky smut in this chapter. Later, heavier smex of the sticky, p&p and spark variety. Medical procedures and near death.

Disclaimer: Dream though I might, I still don't own Trasnsformers or make any money from this.

Continuity: G1

Plot: When Vortex suffers an irrepairable injury to the spark and Hook can't fix him, a spark expert is called in from the Autobot ranks.

Characters: Hook and all the Constructicons, First Aid and the Protectobots, The Combaticons.

Notes: This story first appeared as two rough segments in TF_Speedwriting on Livejournal. I have put the segments together, and have changed them somewhat. It is now the first chapter of a longer story.

There'll be plenty of angst and drama in this, as well as smut of the sticky, p&p and spark varieties. There's quite a few pairings. The First Aid/Hook ex sparkbond takes a lead, but also in this is (from time to time) are Hook and Scrapper, Scrapper and Grapple, Scavenger and Swindle, First Aid and Hotspot, Vortex and Onslaught, Vortex and First Aid. I hope this keeps a whole range of people happy!

The story is set at the end of Season 3, after B.O.T. and there are a few premises. Firstly, Swindle has gone through a hard time after the 'spare parts' incident – and he is out of favour for other reasons: namely their belief that he turned them when they landed in the Box. Secondly, the Protectobots were not created on Earth, but were pre-existing separate mechs who were brought together – like the Combaticons. This makes First Aid, Hotspot and Groove older and wiser than in some other fics – although Blades and Streetwise are youngsters.

Other less important background facts include that Soundwave and Bombshell, not Hook, were put in charge of reprogramming Bruticus' loyalty (this put Constructicon medic's nose somewhat out of joint) and that the Constructicons and Combaticons were ordered to reside on an island with the Stunticons, and whilst the latter two gestalts trained frequently and formed Bruticus and Menosaur, the Constructicons were given the humbling task of building the bases. Another factor which didn't go down too well.

Finally, this isn't a crossover at all, but I confess to being thoroughly inspired by House MD when it comes to Hook's character. There are similarities between those two which it's impossible to ignore!

~~Chapter 1~~

"Mmmnnn …." murmured Scrapper. "Kiss me again. We haven't done this for far too long. Just one overload before we go to the others ..."

Hook was in total agreement. Accordingly he obliged, enthusiastically, allowing his energy field to release slowly over his team mate. Scrapper shivered delightedly, and kissed him deeper, wrapping his arms around Hook's chassis. But that was as far as they got. Both of their comms erupted in a series of loud crackles.

"Uh – we got an incoming, Hook!" said Bonecrusher. "Shooting incident, Combaticon - Vortex. He's got a bullet in his chest. Onslaught's pretty worked up. Says it's bad. Says he's losing consciousness!"

Hook felt Scrapper's disappointment, looked into the desire filled optics. Heat radiated from the other Constructicon, as his energy field crackled with arousal. Hook's own field simmered. But Decepticon loyalty and functional programming warred with need, compelling the medic to take an interest in Bonecrusher's transmission, to be concerned, to prepare to fix his injured faction colleague.

Even if it was a Combaticon, one of that dysfunctional rabble who curried favours with Megatron to try and make up for the past.

He pulled back. "Duty calls," he said. "Looks like we'll have to take a rain check."

He went to get up. But Scrapper caught hold of his hand, pulling him back. "The combat exercise was in the south canyon," he said. "It'll take them a while to get here." His optics were large and fluid. "Just one? Please … Hook …."

The medic relented. It wasn't really that hard. "Just one," he said. "Let's see how good we still are at quickies …."

…..

As Hook and Scrapper entered the common room, there were mumblings and sounds of disappointment among the assembled Constructicons. "So much for you two coming in here to do what we were gonna do!" growled Bonecrusher. "Trust a Combaticon to stuff things up!"

"Yeah!" gabbled Mixmaster. "The first t-t-team interface we've had in ages! And just when I'd cooked up a sp-p-p special brew to appreciate it, too!"

Exclamations of: "Yeah …" and "Selfish afts …" followed, and Scavenger looked especially cross. He pouted. "That copter's a real aft!" he said. "Why don't we just not bother? We can say we never got the comm!" There were more murmurs of agreement.

But Scrapper regarded them sternly. "I know the Combaticons are not our favourite mechs," he said, "But you all know the drill. Hook is the Decepticon medic. His job is to fix broken Decepticons. We need to help, not hinder him. Besides, if we all pull together, we can soon get this over and done with!"

Hook regarded them, warming inside when Scrapper spoke. This was due in part to the overload he'd had not two breems ago. But Scrapper's unwavering loyalty and support had never failed to touch the medic in ways which others, mindful of his aloof and arrogant nature, would have found hard to believe. All the same, he had to admit he could see merit in Scavenger's suggestion.

But duty tugged again. Besides - Hook reminded himself - the copter was hardly the most complicated mechanism. Scrapper was quite correct. If Hook played this right, they'd be back to their 'agenda' in no time. Maybe he could even remove this bullet in record time.

And now, excitement mingled with duty – for that was a most interesting prospect. As always, Hook's irresistible temptation to prove himself to all – and most of all to himself – arose with a vengeance. When it came to things medical, Hook was simply the best. And – as always - he would prove it.

"Indeed, we have a job to do," he said. "I should remind us all that we're due for a practise as medical team. Besides …" his optics glinted, "I'm sure a satisfactory performance in fixing Vortex will heighten the enjoyment of – other performances later. Look at this as - a chance to get closer!"

This view of the world seemed to please Hook's fellow Constructicons. Some enthusiasm now became evident. Moving to a large screen on one wall, Hook drew out a cable and plugged it a square shaped machine nearby. He flicked a switch, and a three dimensional replication of the Decepticon copter appeared in front of a large white screen.

The others exclaimed in surprise. But Hook chuckled. "I like to keep my potential patients' schematics handy for times like these!" the medic said.

His tone became 'professional.' "Now - Vortex is not a difficult subject!" he informed them. "Heliformer model, Icthean adaptation. Military root mode configurations and straightforward transformation sequences …."

He looked at the others. "Easy to pick things out of and stick back together, relatively speaking. I doubt that one bullet will take up much of our time. Now - since this is to be a team effort, let's see how 'on the ball' you all are. Any - issues- of which I should be aware?"

There was a low murmuring. "Yeah! He's a stroppy f-f-fragger!" Mixmaster piped up. "Dunno that I trust the 'unconsciousness' p-p-part. Better get some of my extra special knockout juice together, heheheh!"

"Good point!" Hook nodded. "Although we'll keep his neural functions suppressed if necessary." Bonecrusher?"

"He's strong, too!" growled the bulldozer. "Better see we got proper restraint gear handy."

"Excellent!' said Hook. "That's your department then, Bonecrusher. Whatever you think is best."

"He gets claustrophobia," Scavenger piped up. "Swindle told me. It's - a side effect of that personality separation thing, you know – the mind prison."

A ripple went through the others and they muttered, disapprovingly. "A bad business, that!" Bonecrusher growled.

"Yeah! And something we don't wanna end up in, do we?" Longhaul observed. "We'd better fix the fragger!"

Hook chuckled. "I hardly think that sort of confinement is likely. Despite recent events I like to think we still enjoy some popularity with Megatron. But let's stick to the point. Your suggestions are all sensible. We'll keep him in stasis and monitor his neural functions. And, Mixmaster you can top him up with whatever."

Scrapper then spoke up. "Might I suggest a designation of roles?" Hook looked across at him, grateful as always for his team mate's logic and practicality, the reason Scrapper more often functioned as leader of the Constructicons than he, despite Hook's superior processing abilities.

"I suggest that I assist with the surgery and monitor vital signs," Scrapper said. "Bonecrusher and Scavenger can set up all necessary equipment, Mixmaster is in charge of medication, and Longhaul?" He smiled pleasantly at the truck. "You can act as 'gopher'.'

Everyone murmured agreement with this, except of course Longhaul, who rolled his optics. "Typical!" he muttered. But nobody took any notice.

"Very sensible designations," Hook said, pleased with the functionality he'd inspired.

Scrapper got up. "Let's get to work, Constructicons!" he said. "The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get back to - well - to what we were gonna do!"

...

Hook eyed the data from the inert Combaticon, figures and traces on the screen. A series of steady 'beeps' sounded loudly, but as he watched, the peaks grew further apart and the beeping sounds lowered in tone and slowed.

Scrapper looked at him anxiously. "His vital signs are decreasing!" he said. "Conduit flow's down to forty per cent, energon pump to forty three and dropping!"

A warning buzzer sounded. And then another. "Intakes are failing. Core temperature at thirty per cent below normal, neural output diminished and spark function approaching critical!"

"Yeah!' stammered Mixmaster. " We're g-g-gonna lose him, Hook!"

The medic wasted no time. "OK - connect artificial conduit and air flow, and stimulate neural impulses!" he barked. "Prepare for major diagnostic interface and spark scan!"

Whilst Hook drew out a cable from his wrist and prepared to plug in to Vortex, the others sprang into action. Scrapper and Mixmaster busied themselves with additional connections and tubes , whilst Scavenger and Bonecrusher wheeled into place two more machines and then a second screen. Grabbing a flat looking scanner device from one of the machines, Scavenger lowered it over the copter's chest. An image of Vortex' spark appeared.

"Good work!" Hook grabbed Vortex' wrist, clicking the connection into place. He was in his element; authoritative, confident, and responding to the emergency in exactly the cool fashion he was famous for. And the Constructicons absorbed his enthusiasm, galvanizing into the efficient team which had kept them in favour with Megatron for several million years – even if Devastator was somewhat on the 'back seat' of late.

Mixmaster produced a large syringe attached to an even larger needle. "Here comes neural s-s-stimulant!" he declared, injecting one of the tubes.

The copter's body jerked; once, twice. Then the buzzers ceased and the beeping sounds returned to normal. There was a sigh of relief from Scrapper. "There was a blockage in the upper dorsal conduit but it's gone …" Hook observed. "OK …. good! Systems stabilizing …."

"Flow and intakes are good," Scrapper said. "But how long's that spark gonna behave? Perhaps we oughtta start the scan."

"Hmmnnnn …" Hook squinted at the spark image, whilst analysing the output and trace data inside the copter. "Interesting. No sign of that bullet. OK, initiate scan process and go to 3D!"

He appeared completely cool. Inside, however, the medic could not help from tingling with a delighted curiosity. Vortex' condition was a mystery. Aside from minor dints, he had no external injuries, nothing to indicate that a bullet had struck him at all.

Yet something was causing the spark fluctuations and systems instability. Something unusual - and something which would, as always - when Hook uncovered the truth and saved the copter, as, of course, he would - be yet another superb confirmation of his superior skills, a reason for every Decepticon to defer to the medic, however egotistical and obnoxious they might find him.

It was at times like this that Hook truly loved his job.

….

From the corridor, there came noise; a commotion and loud voices. "SWINDLE!" Onslaught was heard to roar.

Longhaul, who moved instantly over to see what was going on, was knocked flying as the door hissed open and Swindle charged in. "It was an accident!" the smallest Combaticon wailed, rushing over to the medberth.

"Swin!" Brawl barged after him in hot pursuit, closely followed by the furious Combaticon leader. Behind them, the large figure of Blast Off loomed in the doorway.

Equipment was shoved to one side as Swindle forced his way to Vortex's side, his optics widening in horror. "Vortex, wake up!" he bawled, grabbing the copter by the shoulders and shaking him. "I didn't mean to shoot you!"

Connections dislodged and fell out as alarms sounded. "Be careful!" Scrapper shouted as Mixmaster and Bonecrusher echoed his concerns. But Onslaught grabbed Swindle, who clung to the edge of the medberth. There was more scuffling as equipment crashed to the floor. More alarms blared loudly, beeps turning to continuous sounds.

Brawl drew back, hovering. He looked scared, and utterly confused. Onslaught hauled at Swindle. Mixmaster and Scrapper scrabbled to picked up tubes and monitors, and tried to get back in to reconnect them, but the Combaticons were in the way.

"Leave it!" snapped Hook. "Get that screen! And kill those alarms!"

As Mixmaster and Scrapper hauled the rest of the expensive equipment hastily out of the way, Scavenger was wide opticed, staring at Swindle. "Vortex!" Swindle wailed again. "Get away from him!" yelled Onslaught, not letting go.

Hook drew back, folding his arms and retracting the connection. The interruption was irritating, but the copter was, fortunately, stable enough to withstand it, thanks to his team's ministrations – at least for the moment. Hook relaxed a little. He would let the Combaticons have their tirade. There was always an amusing fascination with how nearest and dearest remonstrated their concerns whilst doing their best to inhibit recovery.

And this was quite entertaining. Hook would have thought the Combaticons might be an exception to the general rule, but - apparently - they weren't.

And then, Swindle had let go, and Brawl had grabbed hold of him, but Scavenger had gotten there first and had his arm around the yellow jeep. Onslaught had swept in and was bent over Vortex, his expression pained. "Vortex," he murmured, touching the copter's cheek in a way which surprised Hook. He regarded Onslaught's hand with interest.

The Combaticon leader's expression turned pained. And then, he glared up at Hook. "I want him fixed!" he snarled. "And I want every possibility explored. No stone unturned. Do I make myself clear?"

Hook darkened. An entertaining performance was one thing. Ordering him around in his own medbay was another matter altogether. "Of course!" he snapped sarcastically. "But I'm afraid that won't be on the cards if I'm not allowed do my job!"

"Vortex!" Swindle was sobbing on Scavenger's shoulder. "Hey – it'll be OK, Swin …" Brawl was trying to say. Onslaught glared at them. He turned back to Vortex, and laid a hand on the copter's helm. His face reflected the same painful torment.

"Constructicons!" Hook snapped. Mixmaster, Bonecrusher and Scrapper swept in and commenced reconnecting tubes. The steady beeping of the monitors started up again.

"Whew – lucky!" Scrapper said. "Output's down again but otherwise no damage done!"

Hook had had enough. "Get them out of here!" he snapped.

"C'mon, guys!" It was Longhaul's voice. Hook thanked the stars for the reliable dump truck – even if he did, as always, hate his designation. Then Scavenger had his arm around the weeping Swindle, and Onslaught was clutching Brawl, and Longhaul was hustling them all back through the door.

"Fix him!" Onslaught yelled over his shoulder. Hook noted that Blast Off had reappeared and was laying a firm hand on the Combaticon leader, before the door hissed shut.

Hook watched them for a moment, still intrigued by the display. So Vortex had been shot by one of his team-mates. And of course, it was Swindle. How typical, Hook thought. He reflected once again on how different the Combaticons might have been if he had been in charge of their programming.

But there was no time to brood on this. Scrapper looked up. "He's fading again, Hook!" he said. "All that shaking – it dislodged the artificial pump, and now toxicity levels are up …." His optics widened as a buzzer rang out. "Down to forty per cent functional capacity …. thirty …. twenty …. stasis lock in T minus forty!"

"Lock that door!" Hook commanded. "And get everything back online! We'll manage without Scavenger, he's better employed out there. Bonecrusher - take over the sparkscan."

As the others complied, Hook flipped his wrist to reveal the connector once more. "OK!" he said, "No more screwing around. Get that scan going and initiate firewall override. I'm going in."

Whatever the ridiculous reason for the copter's demise, Hook still had a job to do.

...

"Ah! There's the little son of a glitch!" Hook said.

"You found it already?" Not more than a breem had passed since Hook had initiated the scan. Not only had he located the bullet, but he appeared, impossibly, to have once more stabilized the copter's vital systems while he was at it. Not that Scrapper was really surprised. The 'genius' reputation wasn't for nothing.

"I've coupled the medical interface with the scanner, so here we have an oblique view of the anterior aspect. Look – see here …." Hook stood back from the medberth, and indicated to the brightly glowing blue spark hologram. Low down was a minute black dot, which would have been barely observable to the untrained optic.

"It's t-t-tiny!" said Mixmaster. Scrapper murmured his concurrence as Bonecrusher joined in.

"Indeed!" Hook agreed. "Whilst I've been prodding around I've done some thinking. I could not see how bullets from a canon the size of Swindle's could fail to leave any external damage. So I performed an analysis of Vortex' own weaponry. It appears he was shot with his own scatter rifle - aimed liberally. All the bullets bounced off – except one, which found a weakness. See here ..."

He indicated to a tiny graze on the copter's chest armour, and then at the hologram, and to another minute dot on the copter's spark casing. "The hole it left was indeed, tiny," Hook explained. "And his self repair had any external damage from it and the other missiles attended to within microseconds. But the pathway this one bullet took was deadly. A weakness in design allowed it to slice straight through the casing and to where you now see it."

Bonecrusher and Mixmaster murmured, obviously amazed yet again at the genius of Devastator's head component. But Scrapper knew there was more to come. A bullet lodged right in the spark? It's extraction was surely questionable.

Scrapper could not help feeling sad – in a way he had been inexplicably inclined to do of late. He, too, had seen Onslaught's expression, seen Swindle's anguish and Brawl's confusion. He'd found himself wanting to fix Vortex – and not just for the sake of Hook's ego or to 'keep in' with Megatron.

"You g-g-gonna open him up-p-p?" Mixmaster asked.

There was silence, but for the beeping and hissing of the machines. Beside them hung the 3D image of Vortex's spark. It seemed to Scrapper like a portent of doom. "We have been fortunate, as I say, from a diagnostic point of view," said Hook. "However, our copter here is unfortunately - not so lucky. Any attempt at retrieval of the bullet would certainly kill him. Even were I a spark surgeon – which, extensive though my talents are, I have never pretended to be - the result would be the same."

"We shall keep him – comfortable," Hook went on. "The life support will maintain him. Meanwhile, the bullet will work its way inward. When it reaches the interior chamber, his spark will stop functioning. And I'm afraid," he raised an optic ridge, "that will be 'it!' Unless we precede those events with deactivation."

Hook pulled out the wrist connection, in such a way as to make it clear that his efforts had reached their conclusion. And he had done his job, Scrapper thought. There would be no remonstrations. Everyone knew how rare such a situation as this was, but how impossible it was to fix. Hook would be praised for discovering the cause of Vortex' demise – and for making his passage to the next world expedient. If there was a 'next world' for Decepticon copters.

The others murmured. "Too bad …" Bonecrusher shook his head. "Good lookin' son of a glitch. What a waste!"

"Its not our f-f-fault is it?" asked Mixmaster.

"Hook regarded the inert form. "Of course not," he said. "It's Onslaught's. If he had done just a little more work on making his team at least sufficiently functional that they wouldn't shoot each other, this wouldn't have happened!"

Scrapper felt numb. Hook was right, but it still saddened him. He imagined how it would be if it were Hook on the table and him about to be bereaved. He could hardly bear to think of it.

But there was no time for regret and speculation. Pragmatism was called for.

Activating his comm, Scrapper relayed the information to Longhaul. .::You need to break the news,::. he said. .::Tell Onslaught he needs to make a decision as to whether to let him die or to ….::. he hesitated, .::to disconnect Vortex.::.

.::Tell Scavenger to take Swindle somewhere else,::. he added.

The response was entirely expected. .::Why does it always have to be me?::. grumbled the truck. But Scrapper wasn't listening. He was suddenly feeling better. For he had an idea.

...

"I refuse to believe there is nothing which can be done!" roared Onslaught , as Brawl 's face behind him was a picture of shocked disbelief and non comprehension. Even Blast Off looked noticeably upset.

"I'm sorry," Hook said. "It's my experience that being shot at point blank range in the chest can have somewhat fatal results. Effective when it comes to enemy eradication. A shame when it kills off ones' team!"

Scrapper winced. That was exactly the kind of statement which got Hook his 'other' reputation. And it was unhelpful. Onslaught was no fool. And the rest were unstable and violent. They could turn on him and Hook just as easily as on Swindle.

But evidently it was the yellow Combaticon, and not the Constructicons, who were now in the firing line. Onslaught was pacing, his fists clenched. "Swindle!' he snarled. "When I get my hands on that treacherous fiend, there will be no mercy this time!"

From the chair in the corner, Brawl began to whimper. "He didn't mean it!" he stammered. His optics were unfocused, and Scrapper thought his face looked dim; faded, somehow. "He didn't think Vortex would mind him using that gun!" But Blast Off 'huffed' disdainfully. "Just like he didn't mean to redesignate us to the scrap heap?" he said bitterly.

Onslaught, who had paused to stare at them, nodded. "Precisely Blast off!" he growled. "It's all part of his plot to go it alone! Well seeing as how we'll be disbanded as a gestalt no doubt there is no reason for us to any longer consider his continuation! Which will be so I presume?"

He looked questionably at Hook, who was now watching the performance with arms folded, a look of faint amusement on his face. The medic shrugged. "You will have to ask Megatron about that!" he said.

Onslaught shot Hook a look which restored all Scrapper's previous fears. He hoped Scavenger had done as he suggested and taken Swindle to the basement. Yes, it was time to make the suggestion. Even though Hook was not going to like it.

"Where is Swindle, anyway?" Onslaught was saying. He darkened. "If I find out he's hiding here somewhere I will level this place and everything in it!"

Hook smirked. He went to say something. But Scrapper cut in first. "Actually," he said, "there is one other possibility. As regards Vortex, I mean."

And now, everyone was looking at him. Including Hook. The medic looked – surprised. And then a suspicious, questioning frown appeared on his faceplates.

"It's – uh – something perhaps a little unorthodox," Scrapper said. And although unable to send precise words across the gestalt bond, was nevertheless able to convey a small smidgen of what he had in mind.

Hook's frown deepened. And then, his optics widened. "Oh no!" he said. "Oh no. NO! Absolutely not! NEVER!"

Brawl sat up. Onslaught and Blast Off looked at each other, and then at Scrapper. "What?" roared the Combaticon leader.

Hook looked at Scrapper as though his team mate had just suggested his murder. "He thinks an AUTOBOT can succeed where I have FAILED!" he spat out.

...

"Look – you have to see how much you just ruined everything!" Hook was raging. "You know yourself - Bruticus is a pain in the posterior. He takes up all Megatron's attention – and he isn't even any good! And they're useless. They argue, they fight, they frag in public, they stir up trouble at every Primus damned opportunity and sell each other out. And now - they go around shooting each other! While we're relegated to building bases for them on islands!"

Scrapper said nothing, instead folding his arms and perching on the back of the chair. This wasn't unexpected. He did not, in fact, disagree with it all. But Hook had to see the 'bigger picture. And long experience told Scrapper it was better to let Hook rant – first.

"I had to try and fix Vortex," Hook went on. "We all know that! But seeing as how I couldn't, I was quite happy to leave things as they were, Scrapper! They get decommissioned, deactivated, sent back to Cybertron or to some far reach of the galaxy, whatever! But we did our job! "

"And then, for the first time in months," he went on, "we had some hope of restoring Devastator's esteem." He turned angrily on his team mate. "But no! And not only did you have to go and ruin all that with this – suggestion, you had to humiliate me in the process!"

"Well it was you who mentioned …" Scrapper attempted.

"FIRST AID?" the medic threw his hands in the air. "I'd rather jump in a smelting pit than call HIM in!"

"Not that he'll succeed, in all probability!" he scoffed. "But then Megatron's gonna want to know why I couldn't handle whatever he's gonna do myself!"

Scrapper decided it was time for some of his famous common sense. And the big picture. And, of course, an appeal to Hook's ego. After.

"Megatron wants Bruticus operational," he said. "You said yourself you're not a spark expert - but you're still the Decepticon medic. It's customary to call in other medical opinions on specialist subjects. And First Aid? Well – he does know about sparks. Megatron is hardly gonna be amused if he finds out Vortex could have been saved."

Hook glowered at the words. "A spark expert!" he snarled. "Airy fairy, unscientific claptrap!"

Scrapper got up. "Look …" he said, "I know Megatron relegated us to a backseat, doing scrappy jobs instead of fighting Dinobots. But there's a truce on right now - Devastator will be needed again. Trust me!"

He moved closer, and laid a hand on his team-mate's arm. "Besides – haven't you thought – if First Aid fails, you can blame him. If he doesn't, then you can make out you saved Vortex. If Megatron sees that you managed that – especially in the face of a disaster caused by incompetent programming - there's every chance Bruticus' programming will get handed back to you."

Hook calmed slightly, and Scrapper knew he was getting through. His finger traced up and down the green metal arm. "Then you'll get the credit for Bruticus being a lethal fighting machine," he said softly. "And we can keep him where we want him as far as Devastator's concerned!" His voice lowered. "Don't tell me that before you realized where that bullet was, and you thought a heroic salvation was in order, that the thought didn't cross your mind? This is simply – a different way of getting the same result."

Hook grunted. A disgruntled, but resigned look came over him. Encouraged, Scrapper went on. "There is also the matter of our own gestalt," he said. "You heard Onslaught? If Vortex dies, you know what's gonna happen to Swindle." He hesitated. "And you also know Scavenger has developed - an 'attachment' to Swindle. I don't think he could handle life without him."

Hook snorted. "I always did say his tastes were questionable!" he growled. "But I suppose you have a point!" He perched on the back of the chair, his arms folded as a scowl deepened on his face. Scrapper knew he hadn't quite won yet. Although he was doing well.

There was a long silence. "There is something else, of course," Hook snapped.

Scrapper raised an optic ridge. "And that is?" he said. Although he knew very well.

Hook was quiet for a moment, and Scrapper saw that he bit his lip – something he had not done for a long time, but which indicated deep consternation. "It's him!" Hook ground out. "If it was Ratchet, that might be different. But HIM …."

Then he was up, and pacing, furiously, again. "You know what he's like!" he raged. "And you know he won't have changed! He'll bounce in here and start dishing out orders. Proceed to make out he's performing miracles. He'll be all cute and competent about everything. And then - there'll be all that stuff about healing and wholeness and caring!" Hook threw his hands in the air. "Its – insufferable! And I'll be tainted with the nonsense!"

Scrapper had to admit Hook's evaluation of First Aid's likely behaviour was spot on. And he did not, of course, care for the Autobot medic at all – for entirely different reasons. Hook knew it too – but Scrapper was not about to say so. They had to get over this 'final hurdle.'

"I doubt Onslaught will be paying much attention - to all that," he said. "Or anyone else. And remember what I said? It's a means to an end. Once he's done whatever, First Aid can go back from whence he came. You will be the one they applaud."

Hook nodded. But it was not the end of the matter, and Scrapper knew it. The medic stopped on the other side of the room with his back to Scrapper. His shoulders hunched. "It's not just that!" he said.

It was quiet again. The special closeness Scrapper shared with Hook pulsed strongly. In the distance, he heard Onslaught's voice raised again, and Swindle's name. He shivered, reminded that whatever he might have just said to Hook, the fact remained – he didn't want Vortex to die; could not bear to watch the suffering, the agony of the severed bonds. It had been bad enough in their gestalt contending with – one broken sparkbond.

Scrapper looked at Hook, and his spark ached with emotion. Hook may be obnoxious and ego-driven, but what Scrapper felt for him was special, precious; and nobody but Scrapper knew Hook's vulnerabilities, knew what he had gone through, how fragile he could be. Anger towards the Autobot medic flared in a strong wave of protectiveness. But Scrapper determined to stick to his guns.

Besides, First Aid owed Hook. Hook had taught First Aid everything he knew. It was about time the little smart aft paid for his own esteemed career.

A shudder went through Hook. Walking over, Scrapper put an arm gently around him. "You can do this, Hook." He said. "You severed the bond. This is not about what went on with you and him. It's about our own preservation - and the future of the Decepticons."

Hook's hook clanged against Scrapper's arm. The medic nodded. Scrapper squeezed his team mate, and planted a kiss on his shoulder. "You know you're much, much better than he'll ever be!" he whispered.

But at that, a change came over Hook. The mood seemed to lighten. He looked up at Scrapper, a reproachful smile appearing on his faceplates. "Scrapper," he said, "Be reasonable. I may not think of everything. But I do know THAT!"

...

"Do you want me to call him?" Scrapper asked.

"No!" Hook snapped. "I'll do it!"

Scrapper sat on the edge of the chair as Hook activated the comline. With a sour expression, the medic punched in 'Protectobots HQ.'

.::Streetwise at your service!::. a voice answered immediately. .::Do you require security, fire services, transport or medical care?::.

The voice was bursting with ghastly enthusiasm, youthful and hideously cheerful. Everything in Hook compelled him to tell the surveillance car - or whatever the frag he was - exactly what he could do with his services, and that he'd made a ridiculous mistake, and hang up. But Scrapper's words were in his processor, his team mate a calm pillar of strength on the chair opposite. .::None of those!::. he said tersely.

.::Oh!::. Said the voice. .::Well maybe I should connect you to our leader, Hotspot? He'll be happy to sort out your needs!::.

Shuttering his optics, the Decepticon medic summoned a voice which he hoped would convey the absolute lack of 'needs' to be sorted by the Protectobot leader in any way, shape or form – and his absolute superiority to anyone in that ridiculous, soppy joke of a gestalt.

.::I want to speak to First Aid!::. he said. .::Tell him ... ::. he paused, taking a deep intake..::Tell him his ex spark mate wishes to speak to him. Tell him … ::. Hook gritted his denta, .::that its urgent. And tell him ... Oh Primus, did he really have to utter the insufferable? .::That I need – his advice!::.

There was a silence. .::uh - yeah!::. said the voice. .::Right-on! Hang five::.

I'll bet there's some things you don't know about your medic! Hook thought. And right then, it was the only factor in the whole miserable caper which gave him the slightest satisfaction.

…..

Thanks for reading. First Aid POV soon!

TBC!