Knock Out and Breakdown react to Bulkhead's newest injury in wildly varying ways.
Or in other news, Bumblebee makes a surprising friend and Wheeljack forgets where he is.
AN- References to previous chapters and Operation: Breakdown abound.
It was Wheeljack and Ratchet who had gone through the groundbridge to retrieve Bulkhead. The others had still been outside and were filtering in after receiving the alert from the old medic; most of them were lingering, lost in confusion, when the duo returned with the green wrecker in their arms.
Both Ratchet and Wheeljack were small mechs; Bulkhead was second only to Optimus and tied with Breakdown in terms of size. They stumbled under his weight, but somehow were tenacious enough to drag the wrecker to the medbay before any of the others could step in to help.
A little trail of blue lay on the ground behind them.
Somewhere at pede level for the bots, June had gasped. Miko was looking on in shock, unconsciously leaning backwards into Jack and Raf.
"Hey!" Ratchet looked behind himself impatiently. "Where's my second doctor?"
While Knock Out mouthed the words, along with a 'me?', and pointed at himself, the old medic lost what remained of his patience. "Knock Out, get in here and help me!"
That answered whatever question there was. The red mech moved forward at the order and tried to push past Wheeljack to look at the wrecker seated on the berth.
The action did not go unnoticed.
"You get away from him-" Wheeljack spun and hissed at the red mech. A moment later and his optics went wide with recognition. "I-I didn't mean-"
Didn't mean what, exactly?
Knock Out's expression mirrored the one that the wrecker had only moments before wore.
But it couldn't be too unexpected. They'd been enemies for a long time, after all. He and Breakdown had even been personal enemies for Bulkhead and, at times, his smaller partner.
A slip up in memory here or there was only reasonable.
Knock Out didn't feel very reasonable about this. These excuses and causes only arose after he'd found the presence to think again.
Because his first reaction had been insult and hurt. It had been to remember just how good of terms he'd thought he'd been with the wrecker since that first cycle Wheeljack had 'guarded' him.
Wheeljack's expression continued to sink.
"I-"
Then he clammed up on whatever words or apologies he'd been trying to say and shoved his way out of the medbay. The sound of transformation and a car tearing over the pavement was heard behind Knock Out.
Now wasn't the time to think about that. Not while he was supposed to be assisting Ratchet.
The younger medic still looked out at the driveway beyond, where Wheeljack had fled, in a reflection of longing.
It was some time before he'd gotten to follow.
First, he had to help Ratchet. And apparently helping meant handing the cranky mech his tools, adding preliminary energon lines, and placing dialysis patches on what appeared to be little shards of Tox-En.
This felt like assistant work, not a doctor's job. But Ratchet was the doctor here; and he was busy cleaning the melted crater in Bulkhead's face while the green mech feebly protested that he was alright.
After a quarter of an earth hour, Knock Out poked the other's shoulder and asked (not for the first time) "Can I go?"
"Yes, yes," Ratchet grumbled, "Run off, you. That really shows a medic's spirit."
Now that sounded like a trap if he'd ever heard one-
"I meant it," the old mech glanced behind at him, "I don't need you anymore. Clear out of my workspace."
Alright, alright. Knock Out flashed a consoling smile and moved out of the medbay.
The big room was in a different state than before. Bumblebee and Breakdown were sitting on an elongated crate, seemingly waiting for...him? the medbay? Didn't matter. Arcee was against the groundbridge wall, the Prime was still absent on his energon retrieval, and the humans had made themselves scarce.
"Where'd Wheeljack go?" he asked. Breakdown's mouth opened but offered no words. Arcee, on the other servo, pointed.
"Sitting out there," she said.
Sounded easy enough to find. Knock Out slid down into his altmode and revved out just like the wrecker had moments before.
He was easy to find. The sun was a little less bright than it had been earlier when Knock Out and Bumblebee had been racing. Earth's solar cycles were such short things, after all. Its lower position on the horizon silhouetted the shape of the silent wrecker. Wheeljack was sitting on a mound of dirt and stone nearby; one sword was out and he was sharpening it methodically.
The noise was absolutely atrocious.
Thankfully, it tapered out when the wrecker noticed his engine sound growing louder. The blade itself was set aside when Knock Out transformed next to him.
The fighter didn't look up at him.
It made the offense and the disappointment grow.
"Alright, pretty boy," the medic started with a frown. "What was all that about?"
Wheeljack grunted before he tried to speak.
"I didn' recognize you for a moment," his normally confident voice had lowered substantially. "Thought you were comin' to tear him up. I'm sorry."
Well, at least he had the apology now.
It didn't entirely make him feel better. But he wasn't rude like Starscream; he knew proper apologizing/acceptance procedures.
"You should be," he said even though he knew it was not proper procedure at all.
Wheeljack shot up to his pedes and rounded on him.
"What?" the wrecker growled. "What was that?"
"I wouldn't have hurt him!" Knock Out yelled in return. "The scrap is wrong with you for thinking that after everything I've done here! I thought- I thought you were the first to accept me. I thought..."
What, exactly?
"I thought you believed in me."
And it had been nice to feel trusted. It had felt addictingly wonderful.
Being let out of his room, escorted down to the medbay to see Breakdown and confirm his vitals, that first evening he'd defected in? Wheeljack had surprised him.
It felt far more like betrayal than it should have to be snapped at back there. But Knock Out always had been more sensitive to betrayal than healthy mechs. Why else had he so easily turned on Starscream at the end of the war? The seeker had made him feel wanted and respected and then immediately 'threw him under the bus', to use the human expression, when Megatron showed his face next. It had really hurt him. It had really thrown the chances for trusting the flyer 'under the bus' as well.
Wheeljack's face fell.
"...I was just caught up in the moment. That's all. I was worried 'bout Bulk. I'm still worried 'bout him."
Oh, boo hoo; this wasn't about hi-
He shook the thought off even as he stepped way into Wheeljack's personal space.
"Hey-" Knock Out poked at the wrecker. His claw scrapped white paint up, but Wheeljack didn't seem to notice.
"Look, I said I'm sorry," the other snapped back and turned away. "What else you want?"
What did he want?
Well, in all honesty, he wanted a pretty grandiose apology and an erasal of what the wrecker had said earlier so that he never remembered feeling this uneasy betrayal in his system.
But that wasn't very realistic.
"I don't know," Knock Out sighed. "It's just."
When the wrecker moved to leave, he kept going: "Remember what you told me a while back? Loathe as I am to admit it, you were right; Ratchet is a great doctor. Your partner will be fine."
Knock Out wondered if it had been so awkward when it had been Wheeljack trying to do this whole 'comfort' thing.
But he must have done something right. Wheeljack paused in his retreat and his optical ridges rose high.
Seemed he did remember. Or maybe hearing that Ratchet was gonna keep his buddy alive was all he needed.
Pft, it wasn't like the green wrecker had been in fatal danger.
He shook that thought off as well.
"I know. I know he will be. But thanks," Wheeljack gave an unhappy smile. "And I really didn' mean to snap at you."
The wrecker picked up his discard swords and shoved them into their sheathes. Then he had marched away across the Nevada ground towards the opposite end of the plateau the base lay inside of.
Apparently, he didn't want to chat right now. Knock Out knew he shouldn't feel offense at that, but he felt it all the same. The mech slid down to sit by himself on the mound the wrecker had abandoned.
Ugh. All this- this living for others thing was exhausting. It was wearing on him.
Seemed like all he did as of late was try to be good to somebody else, try to do what they wanted, try to listen to their problems.
Knock Out couldn't help but wish they'd focus on him and his feelings one of these days.
That was probably ungrateful. They'd stuck around and watched the Rite the other cycle.
But he felt the frustration anyways.
Why he was even sitting here waiting to be let into the medbay, Breakdown only somewhat knew. Well, he did know; but he didn't spend any time thinking about that reason.
So far the scout hadn't asked. It wasn't a surprise the yellow mech was waiting to see his green pal.
So far the scout hadn't asked anything period.
They'd just sat here. Together. Waiting.
This was terrible. Breakdown resisted a groan.
They both fiddled with their own servos pointedly to prove they were ignoring each other.
Yes, of course. Neither noticed anything was off. Neither noticed someone was sitting next to them, oh no sir.
Primus. This was awkward.
"You...you ever going to get that fixed?" Bumblebee was the first to break the silence, however hesitantly.
"What?" Breakdown replied, ever eloquently.
The scout's optics whirred. They were very expressive optics, now that he was getting such a close look at them. And here he sat behind a monochromatic lens that made it impossible to express anything.
"The optic," the scout clarified, "Ratchet could probably fix it up. We may not have yellows laying around, but-"
"The...optic." He probably sounded like an idiot right now. Knock Out would probably say he should shut up and let the red mech do the talking. Really, he would if the medic was just around right now.
But Knock Out had ran out after Wheeljack and-
And he was waiting here for- for Bulkhead?
What had happened to his life?
"Why haven't you tried to fix it?" Bumblebee asked.
Oh. Yeah, about that...
"I just...didn't?"
Eloquent.
"Ok." The scout looked back down at his fiddling servos.
A moment later and: "Is there a reason why? Why wouldn't you want to be fixed?"
Huh, the mech was tenacious. Why would he car-
Oh.
Wait.
Breakdown had a bad feeling he knew what this was about.
"I just didn't want to," he crossed his arms and looked away.
The quiet scout didn't buy it.
"Do..do you know how I lost my voice?"
Scrap, no, he was about to have a touchy-feely with an autobot.
Abort, abort-
"No?" Breakdown looked back.
The yellow mech let out whirring laugh.
"I wouldn't think so. Can I tell you about it?"
The blue mech froze. "...yeah? Sure. I guess. Spill your guts, kid."
Abort!
The way Bumblebee's optics crinkled seemed to say there was a grin underneath the mouthpiece. It seemed to be in response to him giving the kid an all clear to talk.
"I lost it during the war for Cybertron. To Megatron."
What? Breakdown found himself suddenly all the way involved in a conversation he'd wanted to leave a nano before.
"I was a pretty valuable autobot scout, I guess. Got interrogated directly by him. Think your old third in command has a video of the whole thing, not that I need it to relive it."
Strapped down on a rail while Silas grinned in greed. Held in the air by Motormaster while the mech tore his plating and pride apart. Stuck in Airachnid's webbing while she crawled closer, pulling her servos along almost intimately while they left behind a trail of agonizing green acid.
"Oh." He didn't worry about such a reply sounding unintelligent anymore. He was busy thinking those thoughts he didn't want to.
"Yeah," Bumblebee muttered down to his own servos. "He ended up saying that since I liked being silent so much, I might as well stay that way."
"Really?" Breakdown asked.
The smile under the mouthpiece was gone. The scout's face was drawn in what seemed to be anger.
"Yeah. Not his exact words, but...I remember exactly what he said. I don't think I could forget it. Doesn't mean I want to hear it spoken to the air, you know?"
We intend to pull you apart-
I thought you wanted to get me alone. Why so scared, big guy-
Useless, paranoid, little coward-
Since you evidently aren't squeamish, I'll allow you to watch-
"I do," the blue mech confirmed.
The yellow mech looked up at him. Before he could speak, however, Breakdown couldn't help but blurt out: "And you never talked?"
The scout released a few angry glyphs. "No."
"That..." What, Breakdown? What exactly do you say next when you try to comfort someone? 'That sucks?' "...'s impressive. Really impressive."
There was an awkward pause.
It built up inside- or, no. That was the wrong description. It had been building up since the scout had started his story. Now it pushed forward and Breakdown knew-
He knew what he wanted to say and never could. He couldn't say it to Knock Out; he didn't want it to feel dismissed or trivial. If not Knock Out, who? A vehicon maybe but he'd never had the time.
Bumblebee had time. Enough time to have sat here and talked about how he lost his voice.
"I don't know if I could've stayed quiet," Breakdown muttered, "If that's what they were after. They weren't, of course," he tried to brush off with a short bark of laughter, "No information I could say interested them; just what I was made out of."
Full disclosure? We intend to pull you apart.
Break you down, if you will.
Even after crushing the squishy underpede, Breakdown heard his voice.
Even after killing him, he still shuddered at the memories.
Strapped down on a rail while Silas grinned in greed. The scarred face continuing to stare at him as the drill retreated and Breakdown let his head fall to the side in shock. A face that would probably smile throughout this all; even after his spark had given out (and then the panic, stalled by the lack of physical pain, rose rose rose)
"I could say anything at all and it wouldn't have appeased them. Probably...probably would've started trying, if they'd gotten any deeper before he-" the blue mech nodded in the medbay's direction "-got me out."
How disgusting would that have been?
If being weak made him a turncoat, traitor, fragger, what would begging have made him?
Breakdown felt the uncomfortable need to thank his rival for keeping him from falling that far. He shook the thought away.
"No one can blame you," Bumblebee soothed. "Keeping quiet in an interrogation is one thing. But when they're hurting you without the purpose of getting you to talk- you lose the one thing that you can hold onto in an interrogation: power. The power to speak. The power to stay silent. If there's nothing to gain by silence..."
The blue mech sighed. "Why are we talking about this?"
There wasn't a need to abort this conversation anymore, no, but he still felt really uneasy feeling like he had failed in something a sparkling had succeeded in.
"Just thought you may need to talk about it," the scout said. "I did have a point though. I don't have my voice because there were no replacement voice boxes for the medics to have given me. By the time Ratchet could have made a delicate enough substitute, my protoform had already grown over the gap. I can't...I can't get a replacement. But I really-"
He exvented loudly.
"I really want to speak again. Not make the same noises everybody does in Primal Vernacular, but actually speak."
Those blue optics slid over to stare unflinchingly into his singular yellow one.
"So why don't you want to see again?"
For whatever reason, Breakdown felt like his tanks had gone dry.
No wonder this mech was a scout. He was far too observant and blunt to be anything else.
"I-what do you mean?" he started up instinctively and then cut the protests off when Bumblebee's stare did not change. "...it -It's a reminder. To never fail again."
The stare still didn't change. It seemed his answer had not surprised the mech.
"I..."
What? I what? Primus, he was bad at this.
Hearing how Bumblebee wanted his voice back and medically could not have it made his decision to patch his missing optic in remembrance of failing lord Megatron (like he really still needed to be worried about that) feel...
Insignificant? Petty? Hollow?
Now he was thinking in big words. No more ineloquence here.
And as bad as he felt about himself in comparison, there was no more urgent want to abort the conversation either.
Ratchet interrupted them when he trudged out of the medbay. The tired medic looked over both of them.
"Bee. Go ahead." While the scout stood, Ratchet glared at Breakdown. "You better not harass him or you'll answer to me."
"I'm not gonna bother him," the bigger mech shrugged him off. The attitude made the old medic give out one of his very-much-judgemental grumbling sighs as he stomped by.
Breakdown didn't wait for the medic to be out of hearing before he poked at the scout's shoulder.
"Hey." Bumblebee looked behind him and waited. "Can we...continue this- " whatever it was "-later?"
Maybe if he vented it all-
Maybe Silas and Airachnid and the Stunticons and wreckers of old would disappear.
The scout gave a human gesture.
"Of course we can. If you want to."
The blue mech sat back down on the crate while he waited for Bumblebee to finish. It seemed the yellow mech remembered there was a line behind him, because the scout vacated the medbay not all that long after entering.
With his normal dumb brute confidence, Breakdown swaggered forth.
Bulkhead was sitting on the berth. There was a patch over the left side of his head and fresh welds were visible beneath it.
The wrecker looked at him warily. The ex-stunticon remained silent for a while.
There was an almost hostile pause.
Breakdown just looked at him for a minute during it. Then he grunted.
"Huh. Left side. Between the two of us," he pointed at both their faces, "we have perfect vision."
The words soaked in for a moment of silence. And then, despite how he imagined he'd react, Bulkhead began to laugh.
