C.M.D: Normally I wouldn't post up another chapter this late on the 15th, but considering I actually managed to squeeze in the time to finish this chapter (and considering it's been a few months since I updated anything other than With Perfect Abandonment) I decided I really rather get this chapter out, than hold onto it for a whole month. So please enjoy and keep some tissues handy!
Title: Blades and First Aid XII
Rating: M
"Surprise!," Ratchet said exuberantly as the australian shepherd entered the office, holding out a small package to the surprised assistant.
"W-what's this?," First Aid asked shyly, depositing his box of files on the small counter to the left.
"It's a gift," the vet replied casually, shooing the other mech away from the paperwork. "Sit, sit. Did you honestly think I'd forgotten about your birthday? I am many things, but forgetful is not one of them."
Smiling an inch, First Aid allowed himself to be ushered into Ratchet's own chair; the wrapped gift set in his servos. "You didn't have to do this still," the smaller autodog said. "I mean, a gift is too-" First Aid cut himself off in shock as Ratchet headed for the mini fridge under the sink; returning with a small cake, no longer than 4 inches, complete with birthday candle.
"S-sir, I c-can't...," he choked.
"Listen, this is perhaps the first time you'll be all alone on your birthday when you clock out tonight," the labrador began quietly, "And I wanted you to at least have somewhat of a good day, since you won't be spending it with your family. Take it, First Aid. It's made especially for you."
The australian shepherd so overwhelmed. He struggled to cycle even intakes but the tears he couldn't withhold. Nodding, he wiped at his optics, setting the gift to the side as he reached out for the little plate. "T-thank you, sir. Tell Jetstorm I said thank you as well."
"How'd you know he made it?," Ratchet asked, surprised.
"He used to bake all the goodies he gave you back when he was merely crushing on you. I assume he's kept at it," First Aid answered with a smile, giving a watery, lil' chuckle at the vet's embarrassed flush.
"Y-yes, well," the older mech coughed awkwardly, "I'll tell him. Make your wish while I get the silverware." Lighting the single candle for his companion, Ratchet turned away to collect a knife and fork, leaving the australian shepherd to stare at the flickering flame sadly.
It was a common tradition, to blow out the candle on one's cake and make a silent wish at the same time, but there was nothing the autodog had to wish for. His hopes and dreams had been ruined the past stellar cycle; though he was recovering and moving on to better things, he had yet to find the space in his shattered spark for such wistful things again. Still, First Aid did not want to upset his superior with his thoughts, so he quickly blew out the candle, putting on a smile as Ratchet headed back to him.
"Here you go," the labrador said, holding out the utensils to the smaller mech. "...You gonna open your gift?"
Caught off-guard by the question, the nurse could only stare at the wrapped package mutely for a long moment. "U-um, well," First Aid stuttered, looking up at the patient vet, "I-i rather wait until I'm home before opening it- i-if that's okay?"
"Of course it is!," Ratchet assured, fixing his companion with a little (but harmless) scowl. "I'm not trying to pressure you into opening your present here and now, but I do want to know your opinion once you do have the time to unwrap it. Unlike most, I want to know if you like it or not. And be candid with me too! If you don't like it, I'll have it returned and we can get you something you like better, together. Deal?"
It shouldn't have been surprising that Ratchet had that kind of mentality, but it definitely shocked the australian shepherd, who felt a strong sense of relief afterwards at the offer. "T-thank you," he smiled, getting choked up again. Smiling in return, Ratchet casually started on telling a story about one of his patients earlier in the orn, as First Aid cut into his sweetly-given cake.
xxXxXxx
His keys jangled loudly in the apartment as First Aid unlocked the door, stepping inside to dim lighting. He'd forgotten about the kitchen light again, the autodog realized, but he was grateful for its glow anyway. After being in a dark room for orns, the nurse was still uncomfortable with being in unlighted spaces for any amount of time and seeing as how his shift had run a little longer this orn, it was good that he had accidentally left a light on for his arrival home. Ensuring the door was locked behind him and the deadbolt put in place as well, First Aid hung his coat and keys by their respective hooks near the door before heading into the kitchen.
Though he opened the fridge and dutifully scanned the items within, the truth was that First Aid really didn't feel all that hungry. His appetite had waned and vanished completely as the orn had come to a close and he'd been forced to sign out of the office for the night. Maybe he should have taken Ratchet up on his invite for dinner, the australian shepherd mused to himself. Alas, even now his spark said no to the idea, as claws of loneliness sank into its pulsing orb. Feeling as he was, what good would putting himself in someone's lighter company do? First Aid would continue to feel unjustifiably miserable and he'd only upset Ratchet and his bondmates with his somber mood.
Better to be here, at home, and all alone, despite the misery weighing heavily on his shoulders.
Venting weakly, First Aid closed the fridge door, heading for the living room; servos still clasping the present Ratchet had given him. He didn't bother turning on the light in here, as the glow from the kitchen spread into the next room, just sitting on his little couch and staring at the small box he held. Should he open it? After all, it was a gift for him... but he felt so worthless of it...
The tears were rising again and the autodog could do nothing but put the gift aside as he hunched over suddenly; trying to stifle the racking sobs piercing his chestplates. He wanted... Oh, he didn't know what he wanted! Everything was a jumble of broken pieces and shards, and every time he tried to make sense of the wreckage, all he did was cut his servos trying to pick them up. Fear, shame, agony... It all washed over the nurse, and not for the first time, First Aid wondered why he even bothered living still. Trapped. That's what he was. Trapped in this never-ending circle, with no hint or hope for escape, and all the australian shepherd had to show for it was the pathetic attempts he made every orn at a "normal" life.
He was disgusting.
"H...h-help...," he hiccuped to the shadows and empty rooms, almost choking, "P... p-puh...l-lease..."
There was a click heard in the near-silence of the apartment, coming from the direction of the bedroom, and First Aid froze with terror. The tears stopped and the self-hatred ebbed for the moment, as the poor autodog's processor raced, hearing a very distinct 'sshhff' sound- the sound of a window being opened. 'P-please, no,' he thought, rising to his pedes quickly, 'N-not him!'
Just the thought of the kittycon sent guilt-ridden chills down the australian shepherd's spinal struts. The first and last time Vortex had been in his life, he'd surrendered everything to the lynx in a desperate attempt to escape the misery he'd felt. The deranged kittycon had accepted his confused self and sent the autodog down a darker thread of existence, before obsession and pain-induced addiction had landed First Aid in the grasp of an even madder cult. He didn't want to be in that place again... He didn't want to be a victim to Vortex's or his own self-destructive machinations. Fighting fear and that tiny, pleading vocalizer whispering sweet lies in his helm, First Aid made quick steps across the living room; grabbing the phone as the berthroom door creaked open then, a surprisingly different helm poking from the darkness.
The phone clattered as it fell to the floor, his brother's face snapping in the smaller autodog's direction. "...Aid," Blades vented softly, furrowed brow lifting as his entire expression lit up happily. The same expression he'd worn when he'd come shoving past corpses, searching for the nurse, a little over a stellar cycle ago... "I finally found you!"
The bull terrier rushed out of the berthroom, turning the corner in one fluid step, closing in on the other mech. Still frozen in alarm, the only thing First Aid could do was rapidly back away from his brother in response; slamming into the wall when he'd run out of room to flee. At the immediate reaction, Blades stopped in place, a look of agony flashing across his optics as he took a cautious step back.
"S...s-sorry...," the red mech murmured, looking down. "D-didn't mean to come through the w-window. You p-probably hate that n-now that you know I'm not some robber... I-i just didn't want to bother a-anyone if this wasn't your place... S-sorry. J-just... i-it's your birthday and all... and I-i..." Blades trailed off after a string of awkward and stumbling sentences, huffing weakly as he turned his helm aside for a moment.
First Aid was only half-listening to the mercenary's soft ramblings. In his helm, it was a rush of white noise, making it hard to pay attention to anything happening outside of his frame. Blades was here... He stood but five meters away from the nurse, mouth running but words muffled, looking away and arms hanging loosely by his sides. Why was he here?
A crackle in his spark threw off the even rotations and the australian shepherd felt himself weaken against the wall. His knees were shaking and he wanted nothing more than to stumble and crawl away from this situation, but if he moved, Blades would close in and then it'd all be over. Over, a part of him hissed desperately, no more pain? His spark pulsed erratically in response. No, the white mech thought, no it wouldn't be over. The pain would never stop because it was a runaway train, with his brother at the head of it like the leading engine; screaming black smoke and rattling the world around it as it raced about uncontrollably. What Blades had done...
First Aid struggled to squash the thought right there and then. Blades had done nothing -he didn't play a role in this misery, like a supporting character, yet he could not be trusted either. It had been the nurse's feelings over the red mech that had driven him towards madness. There was hardly any difference in the way he held Blades on a pedestal, as he'd done Vortex. He didn't want to substitute one for another in addictive need again... and until First Aid could rid himself of these twisted feelings, he could not stand to be in Blades' presence for long.
Already, his frame shivered to be held by the bull terrier...
A blackness was stretching from his center, rising up and cupping First Aid gently as it slowly pulled him back under. He didn't fight, didn't move; just stood there, pressed against the wall as his sorrow melted away to an overwhelming nothingness. The smaller autodog never noticed how the silence within echoed the atmosphere outside of his helm, Blades staring at his younger brother with alarmed optics as he watched the blue light dim to grey in those fragile optics. In a second, he was before the white mech, servos lashing forward in fright. "A-aid?!"
As if struck by lightning, First Aid's entire frame jolted, optics flaring to life as his helm snapped up towards the bull terrier, awoken from his dark reverie. He flinched at the fingers that he realized were reaching out suddenly, hovering uncertainly about his cheekplates. Tear rising quickly, First Aid leaned away, hugging himself as he dropped his helm to the floor. "P-please...," he pleaded weakly, "D-don't... I k-know I-i'm b..."
"N-no...," his brother's voice quickly interrupted. Blades stepped in closer, but still his servos hovered just above First Aid's plating, unable to touch him. It did nothing for his feelings of guilt and shame, and the smaller mech choked as he realized he could not run away, nor did he know of what else to say to his brother.
"Aid... Aid, p-please...," Blades whispered, slowly dropping to his knees. From this angle, he was able to look up into the smaller autodog's face, and the other was able to see how shattered his optics were; how desperate his gaze, and how much his lower lip component trembled as coolant glazed his optics. The bull terrier looked so torn and First Aid was confused.
Red servos shook as they moved through the air, held before the australian shepherd anxiously. "I... P-primus, I w-want t-to hold you. I n-need you t-to hug m-me, 'A-aid... b-but I-i'm so afraid!," Blades sobbed, unable to keep his composure any longer, "I d-don't want to hurt you a-anymore... I d-don't want to t-taint you w-with my s-sins..."
The mercenary ripped his servos away from their restless spots near First Aid's elbows; dropping his face into his servos as he hunched over into a keening ball. "I-i'm sorry! S-so sorry, 'Aid. P-please... please... F-forgive me. I-i'm sorry... pl-please, b-believe me... p-please... D-don't... don't hate me..."
First Aid dropped to his knees before Blades, lunging forwards and wrapping his arms around his brother's helm. He didn't know what was happening, or why Blades was begging for his forgiveness, but it frightened him to see the red autodog like this and his spark could not bear the sight any longer. "B-blades...," he breathed, swallowing back his own tears as best as he could as he pressed his face into the keening mech's ear, "I-it's okay... P-please, d-don't cry... I l-love you big brother. I... I will never hate you, Blades. Never. Y-you... you are m-my everything; m-my knight."
The words, they poured out of him unrestrained, like leeching poison and though the nurse had a frightening thought that he was enabling his addiction once again, he... he found he couldn't care. About any of it.
Blades said nothing. First Aid gasped as those strong arms suddenly circled around his waist, pulling him up into the bull terrier, as a damp face was pressed into the curve of his neck. For a moment, the white mech was scared, but then he realized he had never before been held this close to his brother and he could not help the selfish thought, that he never wanted to be let go. Adjusting his grip on the other, First Aid rested his helm on Blades', praying that this moment would never end.
'Just let me pretend a little longer...,' he whispered silently to no one.
As if to spite him, the memory of Streetwise in a much more intimate embrace with Blades rose to the forefront of the nurse's processor, and he broke away viciously from his brother's grasp. "W...wh-wha...?," the bull terrier mumbled, confusedly searching the spot First Aid had just vacated, before turning miserable optics up to the other mech. "A...aid?"
"D-don't!," the australian shepherd choked, pointing an accusing finger at the mercenary. "Y-you're with S-streetwise! I-i s-saw you t-two- I d-don't want t-to be se-second!"
Blades gave a flinch as the words flew out of the nurse's mouth, holding his servos up imploringly while he shuffled an inch forward on his knees. "P-please, Aid, l-let me explain-"
"No!," First Aid cried, slapping his servos over his ears and turning away from the other mech suddenly. His chestplates heaved as he struggled to cycle even a single intake; tears pouring down his cheekplates in thick streams as his spark withered and withered... "N-no more LIES! E-everything's be-been a lie... I-it's n-not fair! I-i never... I-i only w-wanted to b-be yours, t-to be s-special t-to you! B-but you c-chose S-streetwise f-first a-and no o-one... n-no one t-told me s-so I h-hoped a-and p-prayed a-and b-believed f-for... fo-for NOTHING! I w-wanted it t-to stop b-but instead I o-only was h-hurt more! I j-just c-can't... I-i... Pl-please, I j-just want to DIE!"
"AID!," a vocalizer shouted, two strong servos grabbing hold of him and turning him to meet his brother again. Blades looked down on the shaking mech, coolant filling his optics as he saw how broken First Aid was in his grasp. "A-aid...," he whimpered, "P-please... please, d-don't s-say that... N-nothing... It's n-not your f-fault. O-or mom's... o-or D-dad's, i-it's..."
"I-it's all... m-my fault...," he confessed in a miserable hiss, releasing the australian shepherd and taking a large step back. Immediately, the mercenary collapsed to the floor again, drawing knees to his chestplates and servos clawing his helm downwards as he trembled with the crushing weight of all his failures. "I-i... I should b-be the one t-to die... I s-should of k-killed m-myself years a-ago... S-so that I n-never w-would h-have h-hurt you l-like I h-have..."
He hated him. For this moment, First Aid hated Blades for feeling as if he was warrant of more sympathy than the smaller autodog, but despite his outrage and grief, the nurse said nothing. His sobs settled down, though his tears still shed abundantly, as he listened with morbid curiosity to the words spilling from his brother's stuttering mouth.
"I-i mean, w-what h-have I e-ever d-done of good?," the bull terrier chuckled mirthlessly to himself. "I-i c-couldn't e-even sa-save S-streetwise b-back then... I-i said I l-loved him, t-then I let h-him a-and the re-rest of you g-get taken a-away... S-so w-weak and st-stupid! S-some k-kittycon u-used him l-like a fragging t-toy and I s-still couldn't s-save him f-from g-getting shot... 'C-course he c-cursed m-me w-when h-he died... I d-deserved i-it... I d-deserve i-it..."
"T-then th-there was I-ignis, a-and s-she's mine? L-like, no... I-i c-can't... I-i j-just go b-back, b-back to k-killing, 'c-cause I can't d-do anything b-better... T-then, o-one day, I see... y-you...," Blades gasped a little, pulling in atmosphere with difficulty, as his next few words stumbled out in delirious worship, "Y-you... S-so beautiful, g-grown... s-so g-gorgeous, s-so sweet... S-smiles l-like angels, o-optics like g-gems, s-spark of l-light... M-my angel. My a-all..." Fingers sank deeper into plating as the mercenary started sobbing all over again, curling tighter into himself with every vicious tremble. "W-wanted you... n-needed you! C-couldn't... c-couldn't l-lose you... T-tried to s-stay a-away, f-fight i-it, i-ignore, s-substitute... B-but I s-still t-tainted y-you... H-hurt you, a-allowed o-others to h-hurt you...!"
"...I c-couldn't s-save y-you...," came a cracking, broken whisper.
A strained silence fell -accompanied only by the little hisses of intakes so erratically cycled by his brother- as Blades stayed nestled in his self-made ball of hatred and First Aid remained standing in unresponsiveness. It was hard to care about the other's state, let alone feel anything. Numbness had overtaken the australian shepherd's shattered spark, erasing all the hate and pain and sorrow... but along with it, went the compassion, the concern and the love. He felt nothing so he could do nothing as Blades fell to pieces on his living room floor.
"Y-you...," the mercenary murmured weakly after several, long kliks, "Y-you want to d-die... 'C-course you d-do... I c-couldn't st-stop you i-if I t-tried, s-so... So l-let me b-be the f-first o-one then. L-let me do w-what I sh-should have d-done a-after I f-fell f-for you..." Staring up at the emotionless nurse, Blades withdrew a dagger from a secret sheath within his shirt, holding its sharp blade up to the faint light.
It gleamed for a moment, eliciting even a tiny vent from the australian shepherd at all the possibilities that razor-edge posed. Turning it shortly, gazing at it with mad optics of adoration, Blades held the dagger's point to his throat, smiling at First Aid for a moment. "Feel free to use it to your desire afterwards," he offered, closing his optics in peace as he aligned the edge for the perfect slice.
Arm tensing, First Aid could only watch, his spark giving a frightened pulse as the dagger moved.
xxXxXxx
"Is not sleepy?," Jetfire asked with a yawn, coming into the kitchen. He rubbed at an optic blearily, fixing the labrador with a concerned look as he came up behind him.
Ratchet sighed, opening his arm for the hybrid to nuzzle into his side, as he turned to look back out the sink window. "I'm sorry," he apologized to his bondmate, "I just... have a feeling something isn't right. I don't know why but I can't sleep until it's put to rest."
"Should I brother waking then?," the orange mech asked. "We helping can with solving-problem. Or least, making oil."
The vet allowed himself a tiny smile at the sleepy attempt at humor, planting a tender kiss on Jetfire's helm as he turned them both to the hallway. "No, it's fine," he assured, resting both servos on his lover's shoulders. "I won't be up much longer, so please, head back to sleep. You have a long orn of classes tomorrow and need your recharge."
"But-"
"I promise, I won't be up for more than twenty kliks longer."
"Promise?," Jetfire asked, glancing up at Ratchet with his best puppy-optics.
The vet opened his mouth to answer when a short knock at the door cut off anything that he would have said, surprising Jetfire and himself. "W-who... who being that can?," the orange mech questioned, tone confused and frightened.
Ratchet shook his helm, gently pushing his bondmate into the hall. "Wait out of sight," he instructed. "I'll just be a moment." He didn't wait to hear Jetfire's response, quickly heading through the living room to the front door, the knot of anxiousness growing larger and larger in his fuel tanks. Was this tied to the clawing fear that had risen him from sleep earlier?
Hesitating before the door, the labrador cycled a slow intake, gripping the knob for an astrosecond before swinging the door open in one, fluid motion. "...F-first Aid?!," he gaped, surprised by the identity of his late night visitor. Surprise turned to alarm when he noticed that the australian shepherd had a tiny splash of what looked like energon on his right cheekplate and a dagger wrapped in a handkerchief clasped in his trembling servos.
"First Aid?! What happened? Are you hurt?!," Ratchet begged, pulling his assistant into the house, checking him over from helm to pede. "P-please, tell me, w-what's going on?!"
The vet could hear Jetfire creeping out of the kitchen to investigate but he couldn't concern himself about his bondmate at this moment. The frightening state of First Aid's well-being still had to be answered, and there was the bigger question of whose energon speckled the blade he carried. Looking into his companion's optics, Ratchet was stricken to see how dull their colour had become, even before they started flooding with tears.
"P-please, I-i...," the australian shepherd finally croaked in a deathly whisper, "...I t-think I need he-help..."
C.M.D: As a bonus, please enjoy one more chapter as apology for the lack of updates!