Chapter 4 summary: Motormaster and Mayday have a "discussion". Warning: contains references to sexual assault. Takes place after the Mayday/Onslaught scene in "Gifts, Then and Now".


4. Caring: Deconstructing the Charr incident

When she hears the announcement that they are under attack, Mayday goes to the ship's repair bay with her usual unhurried pace. It will be at least a few breem before the casualties come in, enough time for her to prepare the place, which she does with automatic efficiency. None of the other Decepticons on the ship matter enough that their injuries or deaths will shake her icy calm.

She is just as indifferent to the prospect of her own death, so she doesn't bother tapping into the comms to find out who they're fighting or even whether they've won. Once the repair bay is ready, she settles down in a chair with its arms removed to make space for her wings, and waits.

She doesn't have to wait long. Thrust is the first, one wing all but sheared off, and he stumbles so badly that Mayday wonders if it's just the wing damage that's unbalanced him. Temporary cauterization to stop the worst of the leakage and a scan for internal damage; then he's stabilized and hooked up to monitors in the next room.

She even reassures him that he'll be all right, because she tends to get along better with fliers than groundcrawlers, and then she moves on to the next casualty, one of the Sweeps. And another. And another.

Mayday appreciates their anonymity; she's not likely to get attached to any one of them, only to watch them die in battle (or be murdered in the aftermath of one). She works silently and fast, with a skill honed by both an Autobot and a Decepticon, only one of whom is still alive. The repairs actually makes her feel a little better too, and the cold indifference is almost starting to thaw when she looks up to see that the Stunticons are waiting.

Even though their brutish leader isn't present, the sight of them brings back an ugly unwanted memory, but she's a Decepticon and a medic. Decepticons never show weakness, and medics do their job no matter what the circumstances. She might hate the Stunticons but she'll treat them.

Odd that they would all have taken damage in a space battle, considering their alt-modes, but then again, they tend to be the vanguard of what's left of the army; they're not valuable enough for anything else. Mayday wonders for a moment if their commander might have been killed in the battle. No, that would be too good to be true.

She gestures at the berth. "Lie down," she says in the Stunticons' general direction.

Those are the only words she says for some time, until Drag Strip pushes too close to the berth. Whether he's keeping an eye on the proceedings or just trying to rile her, she orders him to back off.

"Just making sure you won't let anyone die, Mayhem," he says.

Mayday has finally had enough; she can never forget what happened on Charr, so she really doesn't need to be reminded of it. "Either get out or finish this yourself." Breakdown is still on the berth, chestplate open and circuits laid bare, hooked up to a monitor. She begins to put her instruments away.

Drag Strip sneers. "You wanna tangle with Motormaster again? I guess you must've enjoyed it when he felt you up--"

Mayday is grateful she was bracing for something like that, because she manages not to react. And the act of stowing away her instruments makes enough of a flash and clatter that it covers up what she's really doing, which is using an electric tracer on a bare wire leading into the monitor to which Breakdown is hooked up. She secretly taps in the right number of pulses.

"--must've been the most action you've had in a long time," Drag Strip continues.

The monitor beeps a systems-failure alarm. It's not really happening, of course, but the Stunticons aren't to know that. Mayday finishes stashing her instruments as the monitor starts blaring that the patient is in critical condition. If the Stunticons stay around for a few kliks longer they'll see through her bluff, but by then Breakdown is terrified and Drag Strip is suddenly silenced. Wildrider pulls him out of the repair bay and once the doors close behind them, Mayday resets the monitor.

"What an amusing trick," Dead End says, sounding very unamused. Mayday isn't worried; of all the Stunticons, he's the least likely to take a swing at her (or do what Motormaster nearly did on Charr), and there's no other way they can hurt her. She continues the repairs on Breakdown, receives her energon ration from a Sweep who tells her there's only one other mech waiting to be seen – what a relief, she thinks – and is finally done. The two Stunticons leave the repair bay.

Motormaster walks in.

Mayday feels every internal component of hers turn to lead chilled in the vacuum of space. For a single clenching moment she thinks he's here because of the trick she pulled with Drag Strip. Then she sees the deep scorches on his armor, the dents, the shattered optic and the way one arm hangs at an unnatural angle, joint half-melted and circuits broken. Oh. He's here for repairs.

"Lie down," she says when she is certain she can speak with a steady authority. This is the repair bay, after all, and she's the only medic on board, so she and not Motormaster gives the orders there. Her voice comes out flatter than the floor and with no discernible emotion, which she supposes is the best she can expect.

Motormaster gets on to the berth, which creaks under his weight. And Mayday thinks of killing him.

She isn't sure what puts the thought into her head – perhaps it's being so close to him, which never fails to unsettle and disgust her. All her calm control doesn't help. Once again she's back on Charr, trying to explain that they don't have enough resources to save mechs who are too badly injured, even if they're Stunticons. And once again she feels powerful hands move over her frame as Motormaster says that if she doesn't do it, he won't kill her – he'll just make her wish she was dead.

The recollection is enough to make her conscious thought processes falter for a moment, though her training does not; her hands automatically get out the tools she needs. And then her fingers brush the cool surface of a slim cylinder of sedative. It's full. That's a lethal dose.

Suddenly there's another mental time-shift, and she's back in the Ark, listening to Ratchet. He was her first mentor, and it doesn't matter how long it's been since she last heard his voice; she remembers everything he taught her. Ratchet wouldn't kill anyone, no matter how they'd treated him, while they were a patient of his. She closes the cabinet and grips it for support as she pulls herself back to her feet.

Besides, says a voice that sounds like Hook's, it's not as though his death would be put down to battle damage. If he had the strength to walk to the repair bay, he's unlikely to spontaneously deactivate on the berth, and then you'd have the other Stunticons to deal with.

The vicious impulse falls under the dual blows of compassion and reason and is gone. Mayday turns, only to find Motormaster watching her with an odd look in his remaining optic. If he guesses… but all he says is, "What the frag's wrong with you?"

The curt question is delivered with all of Motormaster's usual contempt and hostility, though Mayday hears the telltale static in his vocalizer – he's struggling not to show the effects of his injuries. Good. She wonders if she can get away with doing the repairs without disconnecting any of his sensors, then decides a little reluctantly that Ratchet wouldn't have done that either.

So she carefully uncouples both the primary and secondary receptor bundles that pick up feedback from the pain sensors, telling herself over and over again that this is just another patient, another mech who needs her skills. Which doesn't make much of a difference, and as she works, she keeps wondering what loss it would be if he died. Sure, the Decepticons would be short a gestalt, but what would that matter? They've already lost Megatron and the war and their homeworld, in that order.

She can't kill Motormaster herself, but she still wishes he had died out there. Maybe the other Stunticons do too, which is why they aren't hanging around to keep an optic on him. What a pathetic existence, having your own team hate and despise you, she thinks as she examines the ruined elbow joint – it'll need to be replaced. Really, no one would be the worse for it if he deactivated.

"You thinking about what I did on Charr?" Motormaster says suddenly.

Startled, Mayday glances at him before she can stop herself. Motormaster's face is expressionless and the one optic glows a cold alien purple rather than the warm red to which Mayday is accustomed. She reminds herself that he's a gestalt leader, which means he'll try to dominate any situation, even one where he's being repaired by a medic who has every reason to want him dead. And he's a sadist, which means he'll search out any weakness in his opponent and exploit it.

Her safest course is to say nothing. If she doesn't react, she won't give him any ammunition he could use against her. So she only connects circuits and wires to the new joint, keeping her attention on that.

"Yeah, you are." Motormaster answers his own question. "Why shouldn't you?" If he were the kind of mech to whom she would give the benefit of the doubt, she might think he was getting everything out into the open, rather than tiptoeing around the Bruticus in the room. "I'd have fragged you over. Literally."

I'm surprised you know the meaning of that word, Mayday thinks as she finishes the replacement. He'll need some new armor panels, too, but he can live without those for the time being, and she doesn't have the facilities for it on the ship. She tries not to remember the Constructicons' repair bay back on the Nemesis, of Mixmaster humming as he prepares the correct alloys, Scavenger asking if he can help, Scrapper telling Hook that they don't have the time to do all those upgrades.

If the Stunticons represent the worst of what a combiner team can be, the Constructicons – as far as Mayday is concerned, anyway – stand for the best.

Never mind, think of what's next. Replacing the optic. She really doesn't want to look into Motormaster's face again, but she has no choice. Just keep quiet and he'll get bored with the baiting.

"But that was the best thing anyone ever did for you," he says.

You are a truly vile piece of slag who doesn't have the right to be called a Decepticon, Mayday thinks as she begins to clean the fragments out of the socket. That has to hurt; the receptor bundles she disconnected earlier receive sensory feedback from the body, but not from the cranium or the face. Out of the corner of one optic she sees Motormaster's hands curl into fists, but there's no other visible sign of what he feels.

He does take a moment before he goes on with what he's saying, though, and she supposes he'll go the Drag Strip route and suggest that she enjoyed what he did. "Taught you your place."

She uses a vacuum suction to remove the last and smallest splinters. Self-repair systems have already sealed the trickle of lubricant from the socket.

"Taught you not to waste time when someone's dying."

She exposes the wires and receptors, ready for the replacement.

"Taught you that no one messes with my team."

"Spare me your hypocrisy." Mayday has finally reached her limit, and the revulsion feels as though it's choking her. She straightens, suddenly aware that this is the only time when Motormaster will have to look up at her, rather than it being the other way around. "How many times have you beaten them? Or fragged them over, literally?"

"That's different. I'm their leader. I have to keep them in line."

"By inflicting serious injuries on them?" Mayday says as she fits another optic.

Motormaster shrugs – or tries to. The movement is cut short by his various injuries, and he grimaces. "It works. You spent too much time with the 'bots… we do things differently here. And that's not as bad as leaving one of 'em to die."

He's redirected the conversation to the topic of what she did, so Mayday tosses the grenade back on to his side. "I'm not sure your team would agree," she says casually as she recalibrates his new optic. "Didn't they try to kill you once?"

That puts a fissure into Motormaster's contemptuous confidence. Mayday joined the Decepticons just after that happened, so he evidently wasn't expecting her to be aware of it. "I'm still here," he says after the briefest pause, "so they must not've been trying too hard."

"Perhaps they'll have better luck next time."

There's a tiny, telltale whir of servos as Motormaster's jaws clench, slowly relaxing under what looks like an effort of will. Mayday gives no sign that she has noticed as she reconnects the receptors and moves on to check the scorches of laserfire on his chassis.

"Y'know why they take all that from me?" he says finally.

"Because they don't have any other choice," Mayday says, not looking up from her work. She knows what it's like not to have any other choice too, but she can no longer afford sympathy towards anyone, least of all the Stunticons. Who don't want it anyway. "Because you've beaten them down to the point where they think your treatment of them is normal." Or justified.

Motormaster's voice is a low, grating rumble that Mayday doesn't so much hear as feel, since she's holding together the deepest gash in his armor to solder it shut. She thought she's overcome her disgust, but she nearly pulls away at that. "'Cause I take care of them," he says, "and make sure no one else messes with them. They know I discipline them when they need it and look after them when they need that. Just like Megatron'd do with all of us."

Mayday's head snaps up at that. "Don't ever compare yourself to Megatron in my presence." She's trying to control her sudden fury, but it shows; how dare this despicable pervert imply he has anything in common with the leader she would have given her life for? "Megatron was the leader of an empire he built from nothing, and soldiers joined his ranks willingly. What are you the leader of? Four psychotics who didn't even choose to be your punching bags?"

Motormaster is off the berth so fast that she stumbles back. A welder is in her hand, not that it can do more than give him a slight burn before he kills her, and she reflexively opens a comm line to Onslaught, not that that'll help her either, when Motormaster finally replies. His voice is so quiet that it sends a tremor down her back, and she can't look away from the purple hell of his optics as he stands over her.

"They know that whatever I do, it's because they matter to me," he says. "One way or another. But you… you didn't care. And you still don't. And that's what makes the difference."

He moves away without touching her and the door of the medical bay closes behind him.


tomorrow4eva : Yes, definitely inspired by D_E's stories. She did a great job of fleshing out the Stunticons' personalities.

Drag Strip likes the action in the film (and the whole family vs. family aspect of it), but he has no interest at all in the romance, so he's going to do what he can to sabotage that. Or at least force the Aerialbots to leave.

I think Dead End suggested Powerglide because it would have been fun to watch two glory-hog stars who are both full of themselves, fighting over who gets more attention. Thankfully the producer and director make a much more sensible choice for Juliet.

And I'll be labelling the slash chapters – two so far, for the "Naughty" and "Horny" parts of the meme. I'm predictable. ;)

Lady Sunflower, Yuki Hikari : Thanks for your reviews! Glad you're enjoying the story of the film. I didn't intend it to be the basis for a dozen fics in this meme, but I think I'm being taken for as much of a thrill ride as the other humans.

dfastback68 : My favorite play is Macbeth, but that gets referenced in the next fic. Here, nothing works as well as Romeo and Juliet, partly because of the theme of an ancient feud between factions and partly because the romance is going to grate on a lot of nerves (or circuits). And as you predict, it won't be easy making the Stunticons play along with the love story, so things are going to get worse before they get better.

I always wanted Long Haul to have a chance to design and build something by himself (or at least with someone else assisting him rather than telling him to move materials). As for the Aerialbots… well, I'm going to use them mostly for contrast with the Stunticons rather than giving them screen time on their own, so I hope that works out.

Thanks for reading!

Taipan Kiryu : You're right. Drag Strip isn't just difficult to work with – he's impossible to work with if he doesn't want to comply, and when Stephanie's patience finally snaps… let's just say the consequences are not pretty. I love the title "Romeo Must Die", by the way. Thanks for mentioning it; I'm going to try to incorporate it into the story.

It's once again good to have a real filmmaker's approval on my filmmaker's choices. :) There's no role which would suit Wildrider as well as that of the flamboyant, aggressive but always amusing Mercutio. He's my favorite character in the play. But putting all of them together with a bunch of Autobots is likely to result in, as you said, "a complete disaster of a masterpiece". Swindle is already calculating how much profit he's going to make from the blooper reels alone.

And Long Haul's done a great job on building the sets, but he's getting a bit too attached to them. Let's face it, audiences these days like things getting blowed up real good. Just ask Michael Bay. Long Haul, on the other hand, has really poured his spark into his one chance at designing and building something, and is not pleased about the actors damaging his beautiful scenery. So that's another problem for Stephanie.

I didn't originally intend Motormaster to do anything other than show up to see what his subordinates were doing. But given the effect he's had on the cast, the crew and the readers, he's going to have more of a part to play. I just have to figure out what.

I really appreciate your detailed review and your inspiring me with this story in the first place!

Fire From Above : The humans have definitely taken on more than they can handle… but so have the 'cons, in a different way. It's been a lot of fun to write. :)