Look and Listen Book 1
There's a Reason
Chapter 7: Recovery
Rating: PG (physical disablities)
Major Characters: Blurr, Daniel, Wheelie, Kup
POV: Blurr, Kup, Wheelie (interchanging between scenes)
"Wheelie, come on!" Daniel shouts, trying to drag his friend along faster through the HQ's halls.
The Mini-Bot flinches at the volume and rubs the side of his head. Blurr, a little behind them but keeping pretty good pace because of his larger size and longer 'strides', seems to notice. "Hey, Dan? You really, really shouldn't be yelling; gotta keep your voice low an' don't make him move too fast or his equilibrium sensors will go off wrong. He's still recovering and Aid's still got repairs to make."
"Damn...sorry! I keep forgetting..." Daniel goes to comb his fingers through his hair with a sigh, but grimaces and lowers his hand when he catches his stitches.
Blurr just shakes his helm and presses on; it doesn't take the other two long to catch up as he goes slow. "So where do ya plan on going, huh, Dan? He can't really do much right now, per Aid's demand. Hope ya know that and don't have much planned."
"Just a walk," the organic answers. "Aid said he was starting to get restless and needed one. I was hoping to maybe bring him to the training field. The Dino-Bots wanna see him."
"Eh...I'm not really sure it's a good idea to let 'em see him yet. They're way, way, way too loud."
The blue mech glances down at Wheelie and catches a tiny nod.
"Oh...right."
...
"Easy, lad..." Kup murmurs while resting his large hands on the Mini-Bot's shoulders. A burst of static (probably from Blaster bumping the mic controls) had come from the speakers. The volume had really messed with Wheelie's hearing and made him stumble. Only the vet's quick hands had kept him from getting up close and personal with the floor.
Wheelie rubs his optics with his thumb and index digit like he's got a bad processor-ache.
"Come on. First Aid needs to see ya."
The Mini-Bot looks up to his childhood caretaker. He furrows his optical-ridges and blinks. 'What?' he signs, somewhat sloppily.
"First Aid, lad. Remember? That's where we're headed- you've got an appointment."
Wheelie shakes his head and shrugs, like he's genuinely confused as to where they were going.
Kup sighs and places his hand on Wheelie's back, guiding the Mini-Bot on through the hall. "He's gotta do somethin' 'bout your processor-lag. Yours's 'least repairable."
...
"You really, really shouldn't be straining your optics ya know. It'll make your processors ache even worse and Aid isn't going to be very happy about that. You just need to rest when you've got leisure time."
Wheelie rolls his optics without turning to face the ex-racer who's currently sprawled out on the couch comfortably. He keeps right on typing on one of his (many) data-pads. Apparently Bumblebee had written up the report for the battle that happened over two weeks ago now. That irked the Mini-Bot. As journalist, reports were his job. He'd been studying for years now how to write a good, detailed report. Sure, Bumblebee's was alright, but the scout just didn't have the optic for detail that Wheelie did.
He'd asked Rodimus multiple times for the report to see how well it was done and if there was anything he needed to add. It took a while before the Prime had agreed. About the only reason Wheelie was given it despite his processors' current state was that he was always the one to review reports before sending in the finals to the command room for Blaster, Rodimus, Magnus, or Jazz to read. It looked like Bee had gotten all the bots to give their own reports and then compiled them together. Well, that was done right, at least. Wheelie's report wasn't there yet, of course, but there were also a few things in Bee's report Wheelie noticed needed editing.
He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. Okay...maybe Blurr was right. But Wheelie had a job. He begins typing his personal report to add to the conglomerate- then he'd edit Bumblebee's into the correct formatting.
He doesn't get very far into it before his vision starts swimming. He feels himself swaying as his equilibrium sensors try calibrating. He can hear Blurr scrabbling for his crutches and hauling himself off the couch.
"Easy, Wheels, easy..."
The Mini-Bot hadn't realized he'd stood up until he felt his larger friend holding one of his shoulders and guiding him to the couch. His processors were throbbing by the time he was seated and everything looked blurry to him. He faintly noticed when Blurr moved something in front of him, right before he purged into it. It was a bucket. Thankfully, when First Aid had caught word that Wheelie was still working with data-pads, he'd ordered that the Mini-Bot at least keep a bucket or wastebasket near his desk.
Wheelie feels the older mech rubbing his back and glances at Blurr from the corner of his optic. The other mech had sat down next to him.
"Wheelie? Ya hearin' me? Just close your optics and take deep vents. Aid said it'll help, remember? Hey. Wheels..."
The blue mech was waved off as Wheelie took the bucket into his own hands. He gave a small thumbs-up to show he heard Blurr and is doing as told; that he was alright.
How long would this go on, the Mini-Bot wonders.
...
"...just keep an optic on him for a while," First Aid ordered as he took a step back from the Mini-Bot. "He's cleared for duty, but I want to know immediately if he has any sort of relapse." The medic starts typing on a data-pad, glancing between it, his patient, and then the other two mechs periodically. Aid had allowed Blurr to sit in the chair he usually used for checkups so that the paralyzed mech wouldn't have to balance himself the entire time. Wheelie is seated on the berth, digits tapping against it and legs hanging over the side. Kup stands next to the orange soldier with his arms crossed and First Aid standing in front of him, a bit to the right.
"Relapse as in memory-loss, dizzy-spells, and purging?" Blurr asks, even though it was pretty obvious that was exactly what the Protectobot meant.
"Mhmm, those or whatever else that may cue you to any problems with his processors."
Wheelie taps the berth with his knuckles in an annoyed manner, like he'd been trying to get the older mechs' attention for a while now. 'Can we go now?' he signs, raising his optical-ridges quizzically. 'Other M-I-N-I-B-O-T-S doing something on practice field.'
"Yes, yes; go." First Aid made a shooing motion. It was hard to tell behind his visor and mouthplate, but his sighed chuckle gave the other three mechs that his expression must have been a mixture of humored and annoyed.
The berth might have been high for the Mini-Bot, but he didn't wait for Kup to help him down. He jumped, landing awkwardly in a way that had the medic tilting his helm in a disapproving manner, before he took off out of the room.
Blurr, Kup, and First Aid could only look at each other and vent a sigh.
