C.M.D: One last (late) update. I'll see you all next month! ...hopefully...
Title: Blades and First Aid XIII
Rating: M
Warning: Incest; mentions of rape and suicide
"I'm sorry to bother you," Ratchet began to speak, the moment the door cracked open.
Seeing who his late night visitor was, Groove threw it open the rest of the way, grabbing at the labrador's arm. "Come in, come in," he gasped, yanking the vet inside. The older mech stumbled along, turning his helm to see the komondor reach for First Aid. It hurt to see the australian shepherd flinch from his carrier's touch, yet nothing compared to the look of devastation on Groove's own face.
Waving them ahead, Ratchet took the lead at Groove's dismissal, a servo rested gently on the nurse's back as he guided them towards the living room. He was not all that surprised by the audience waiting them within.
"Thank you for calling me, Ratchet," Yoketron said, coming up to the pair. The vet urged First Aid to take a seat, and the silent mech did so, leaving the two older autodogs to speak. The kai ken did not fail to notice the exchange. "He trusts you a great deal..."
"He needs it," Ratchet mumbled, his glossa heavy in his mouth. "First Aid's had so much ripped from him, now this...?"
"He is uninjured though, yes?," the Special Ops officer asked. His servo gripped the handle of his cane tightly.
The labrador vented wearily. "He is. I checked him thoroughly, but the energon did not come from him. Pup doesn't have even a scratch."
"I have sent someone to check his premise," the older autodog informed to the vet's shock. "If the energon did not come from our dear First Aid, I greatly fear whose it might be. Soundblaster will contact me with whatever he finds."
That was reasonable. Shaking his helm, Ratchet couldn't help but to say, "I wish this whole thing would end." Catching the kai ken's peculiar look, the labrador elaborated. "No one deserves what's happened. Least of all people, First Aid. He was just starting to get better."
"I... agree," Yoketron shared sadly. "This family has suffered too much."
Before Ratchet could add anything, Groove approached them from behind, his servos wringing his night robe anxiously. "W-will... Will someone finally tell us what's going on? Yoketron only expressed that we needed to be awake because something had happened and now you're all here and-"
"Yes, yes," the Special Ops officer soothed, touching the other autodog's arm softly. "Ratchet will explain the situation at once. Hot Spot?"
At his name, the affenpinscher came forward and guided his fretful bondmate to the couch. It was hard to get Groove to sit -he kept glancing at First Aid in the corner of the living room, attempting to move closer to his youngest son- but finally the komondor submitted to his spouse's heavy servo, sinking into the cushion beside the worried Ignis.
Seeing that an audience of anxious optics watched him, the vet vented heavily, coughing into his fist as he took a step forward. "I, um... There's been an incident," Ratchet began flatly, shoulders slumping in exhaustion. "There's really no other way to put it. I know you've had questions for months while you've waited for First Aid to contact you, and he's been doing so well in his recovery, but then he showed up at my door this evening; speckled in energon and requesting-"
"E-energon!," Groove shrieked, optics glazing with coolant as his helm snapped towards the australian shepherd. "W-why!?"
"-help," the labrador continued, scowling at the outburst until Hot Spot silently hushed the panicked komondor, "He himself has expressed that he needs help and I'm not certain I can assist him in his recovery any longer, which is why Yoketron and myself believe you may be able to do more where we can't-"
"...don't want their help...," came a low hiss, interrupting Ratchet this time. Stunned by its presence, the older mech turned to the arm chair on the far side of the living room, First Aid clutching the edges of the seat as he glared at the floor.
"What...?"
"I said, I don't want their help!," the nurse barked out angrily, casting a hateful look to his family. "They're nothing but a bunch of liars and backstabbers!"
"First Aid!," Hot Spot responded first, his tone sharp and critical. "What is the meaning of this? We've never done anything to hurt you! Your mother and sister are already distraught as it is, why then are you making these horrible accusations?"
"Liar!," the small mech shrieked, jumping to his pedes, a finger stabbing through the air towards Ignis. "She's not my sister! Technically, she's my niece!"
Various expressions of shock circled around the room on every face except two: Yoketron and Ignis. Colour draining from his faceplates, Groove looked about frantically, focusing on the femme for a moment as she dropped her helm in guilt.
"Y-you... Did you think that I wouldn't find out?," First Aid choked, anger dissipating as quickly as it had come. Without it, the poor mech trembled in place, his optics overflowing in his vulnerability.
"Son, we-," Hot Spot stuttered hesitantly, "We wanted to wait until you were older. It was... with the war and the camp... it was a lot, we weren't a hundred percent sure what had happened ourselves and we didn't know how to explain it to you as a sparkling. Please, First Aid, we really didn't mean to keep it a secret..."
"Bull-slag!," the australian shepherd spat suddenly. "You had stellar cycles to tell me. STELLAR CYCLES. But you never did, and yet everybody else knew this!"
Groove rose to his pedes at this moment, servos held out towards the white autodog desperately. "B-baby, please-"
"SHUT UP! No more lies," First Aid cried, his pitch escalating as his emotions ran wild. "I don't want to hear a fragging word! All my life I've believed... Everything I knew is false and it's all your doing! If you'd just told me that Streetwise and Blades had... w-were... I-i've wasted all this time loving him, when I never even had a chance!"
Ratchet watched, frozen, as his assistant hiccuped, his composure rapidly dissolving as a servo clutched at his aching spark. "I-i love him a-and now I-i know h-he'll ne-never want me," the nurse sobbed loudly, "B-because he's l-loved so-someone else a-all these s-stellar cy-cyles a-and I-i'm w-worthless in c-comparison. S-so worthless t-that I l-let o-others h-hurt me and u-use me..."
"W-why d-did you l-let me believe I-i was ever s-significant...?"
Servos covering his face, First Aid fled the room towards the back of the house; the slamming back door heralding his escape into the backyard. In his departure, a heavy silence blanketed the room, strangling the occupants with its clutching grasp. Groove was the first to break it as the devastated carrier fainted on the spot.
Hot Spot caught him before he could fall very far; lowering him to the floor gently as Ratchet jogged over to check on the komondor. "He's alright," he said to the blue mech, servos pulling away after his examination. "Just... stress. And shock."
The affenpinscher nodded his thanks before he turned a stern frown to the youngling standing over them, her tail tucking between her legs in fright. "You knew...?," he demanded, unable to keep the growl fully at bay.
"I-i'm sorry, papa," Ignis whimpered, hugging herself loosely. "I-i found out F-First Aid w-was looking a-at our files a-around the time he went missing. I d-didn't..."
"Groove needs rest," Ratchet cut in, putting a servo on Hot Spot's shoulder to physically draw his attention. He maintained his neutral gaze even when the veteran turned tumultuous optics toward his own. "Take him upstairs to your berth and watch for him to come to."
It took an astrosecond, but the blue mech eventually rose to his pedes, his bondmate held carefully in his arms. The two creators now gone from the room, and the youngling having sunk to the couch again in misery, the vet turned to the only other occupant. Putting away his cellphone, Yoketron seemed strangely unphased by the events that had just occurred, as if he had walked in after the fact instead of being present during the disaster. Grabbing the older mech by the elbow, Ratchet stormed into the kitchen, turning to be face-to-face with the kai ken.
"You knew," he growled accusingly. "You knew all of this beforehand, didn't you?"
"I did," Yoketron confirmed casually.
"What gives you the fragging right to make me drag a poor 'bot struggling to recover from assault, to face the family that he hates?," the labrador demanded. "Do you realize what you have done?!"
The Special Ops officer did not budge to remove the other's servo, despite the rough shake Ratchet gave him. Instead, the older autodog looked him straight in his optics, speaking calmly. "I understand your feelings, Ratchet, but just as your anger is driven by despair and empathy for a beloved colleague, so too is First Aid's emotional state a cause of multiple factors rather than one, simple excuse," the kai ken replied. "Though he currently feels otherwise, it was important that this confession occurred between his family. He will need them to finish his recovery."
"Oh yeah?," Ratchet snarled.
"Oh, yes," Yoketron said, so slagging calm still. "Soundblaster messaged me a couple kliks ago, you see. The energon and knife are Blades'... He apparently tried to kill himself. And in front of First Aid."
Ratchet, who had been gearing up to interrupt the old coot with a slue of colorful words, found himself frozen with his mouth hanging wide open. Though a spark of anger still burned within him, a wave of guilt moved through the vet stronger than that rage, making him back down quickly.
"Please tend to First Aid, Ratchet," the kai ken instructed softly, "And see to it that he gets some rest, whether that be here or at your home. He can't be alone tonight." Removing the younger autodog's servo, Yoketron gave Ratchet one final look, before patting the labrador on the arm and exiting the kitchen.
Cycling a shaky intake after a long klik, Ratchet headed out into the backyard.
xxXxXxx
"Are you certain you want to do this?" Soundblaster peered out of the tiny kitchen, checking on the catatonic mech seated in the other room. Blades had yet to move even an ear since being left there on the couch and the persian worried if the autodog was still cycling intakes.
"It's not like he has any other place to go, right? Zwing!," Warpath answered, gently bumping the black mech.
Seeing the cup of oil held out for him, Soundblaster accepted with a grateful nod; pausing a moment to study the strange imagery on the mug before speaking again. "I, e-er, I mean no. No, he does have other places he can go but Yoketron is uncertain if they will be of any help at this time," he answered. "If it's a bother though, we can-"
"It's alright, Soundblaster," the autodog chuckled softly. "You tell Yoketron that I'm happy to take Blades in for a while. Though I'm not too sure myself if I can be of any help. Poor kid looks completely gone... Choom."
"Yoketron has absolute faith in you," the persian smiled behind his mask. "You still have my number in case something comes up?" A nod. "Okay then. I suppose I should get going..." Sighing, Soundblaster pulled aside his mask, throwing back his drink in one swallow, before handing the mug off to his companion and striding into the living room purposefully.
"Blades?," he began. The mercenary did not respond as the kittycon approached. Optics dim and lowered to the floor in listless fashion, Blades had been the same since Soundblaster had found him outside First Aid's apartment -bandaged neck cables and all. It had been a relief to find him alive. When Yoketron had called the black mech earlier, the report he had given him implied that the bull terrier might no longer be alive. As much of a nuisance the autodog was to him on a daily basis, Soundblaster would never wish to see him dead.
Kneeling in front of his companion cited no reaction still, and Soundblaster couldn't be sure he was even being seen by Blades. What was happening in the poor mech's helm just then...? Despite their different backgrounds and breeds, they'd all seen and suffered a number of horrors since coming together as the secret organization known as the 'Wreckers'. It had left its mark on all of them... but not a single one had attempted to kill themselves. Until now.
"Blades," the persian continued, ears drooping when he still got no response from the mercenary, "Blades, I'm leaving now. You're going to be staying with Warpath for a little while. Yoketron thinks it's best, but... if you need anything... anything... Call me. Warpath has my private cell number, should you want to use that instead of the office number."
The bull terrier shuttered his optics quickly but did nothing else.
Sighing, Soundblaster whispered a farewell to the red mech; rising to his pedes and shaking servos with Warpath before finally leaving. There was little change to the atmosphere once the kittycon was gone. Finishing his cup of oil slowly, the veteran studied Blades in his statuette-like state, smacking his lip components loudly as he set his empty mug aside.
"It's been a while, hasn't it kid?," the older autodog said, trying to sound marginally jovial and failing. "Let's get you some fresh bandages for that cut and maybe we can swap wild stories after. Bam!" Blades did not respond, but Warpath didn't expect him to. Grabbing the mercenary by the elbow, he gently guiding his mute comrade up and down the apartment hall.
xxXxXxx
A soft rap echoed on the open door, the fifth one of the orn so far. Too tired to wipe the old tear tracks from his cheekplates, First Aid just sat there, uncaring to respond to the polite summons. The berthroom door creaked a little as it was swung the rest of the way open; a pair of pedes padding softly into the room. Why couldn't he just be left alone? The australian shepherd fumed silently to himself, trying to understand why he had ever agreed to Ratchet's persuasion to stay with his family. He hadn't been ready to see them before that night a week ago and the nurse was still unprepared to engage with them as of yet. Now he had to suffer through constant supervision and his well-intending relatives' never-ending visits.
His latest visitor was probably Groove again, the most anxious of all his family currently.
"I don't want to talk," the white mech croaked, refusing to face the newcomer.
"That's alright," the unexpected vocalizer answered kindly, "I was hoping to tell you a story anyhow."
Going rigid on the berth, First Aid watched mutely as Streetwise rounded into the corner of his peripheral, going so far as to walk directly into the middle of the nurse's sight lines and sitting down at the desk chair across from him. The akita said nothing initially, taking the time to smooth out the wrinkles in his skirt, his lip components still pursed in a mellow smile. Staring at his older brother, First Aid couldn't help the nasty flare of jealously he felt just then, his jaw tightening to keep the angry insults at bay.
Streetwise had always been so beautiful. Well-rounded chestplates, long, slender limbs and waistline, alongside a smile that could strike most 'bots foolish... The australian shepherd used to be one of those awed by his sibling's gorgeous graces, never spiteful of them. Until he had found out about his and Blades' relationship.
First Aid realized that the older mech was looking at him now while he struggled to keep his emotions from registering on his face and the nurse quickly adopted a frown in response. Despite what he was feeling, he kept true to his word and did not speak. The taller autodog was quick to catch onto that.
"I was informed of everything recently," the akita began, his optics dim with sympathy. "I'm truly sorry about the state of things, First Aid. I never would have guessed that you were unaware of... circumstances... within our family. I'm even sorrier that we may have had a hand in what happened to you after that orn of the party."
The australian shepherd bit on the inside of his cheekplate, using the mild shock of pain to keep his emotions in check.
"And seeing as you are missing chunks of the whole story, I thought it only proper that I be the one to enlighten you," Streetwise added. Seeing that First Aid had yet to protest the offer, or say anything at all really, the older autodog laid his servos out in his lap, venting deeply before starting.
"A long time ago, before certain conflicts had blown into a global war, we lived happily in a quaint town far away from the capital. Mom and Dad kept themselves busy, as there was nothing to worry about in those orns, allowing Blades and myself to roam free. Blades was, well," the akita chuckled softly, glancing aside as he recalled old memories, "He was special. I fell for him long before he felt the same for me. We shared a few stellar cycles of sweet, innocent affection under our unknowing parents' olfactory sensors, before war came and tore our family apart."
"It... happened shortly after you were born," Streetwise told, the smile finally dropping as his entire expression darkened in sorrow. "Dad and I were sent to a labor camp... Mom and you, elsewhere. Blades had been left for dead back in our scoured town. We didn't know where each other were or even if you were alive for the longest time, and then it didn't matter because the first, intimate moment Blades and I had shared the orn you were born had resulted in me being sparked as I was terrified to discover."
First Aid fisted the sheets beneath him, worrying fingers threatening to tear the delicate fabric. He didn't ever want to hear about Streetwise and Blades interfacing but he just couldn't bring himself to tell his brother to stop.
"The next three stellar cycles blur from there," the taller autodog explained. "Isolated from even Dad, I was made to have Ignis, only to then have her ripped away from me. From there, I was kept as a pet for the overseeing kittycon; beaten, forced to act like a mindless beast and raped, orn after orn..."
"I lived a Pit-worthy nightmare for so long, that at the time, I truly forgot that there had ever been anything else. Then one orn, everything dissolved into chaos..." Pausing, the akita turned to the window, a long klik passing before he spoke up again. "I... Still don't remember exactly what unfolded then. I only recall pain, desperation... and then nothing as I finally died."
"...d...d-died...?," First Aid mumbled. Becoming wrapped up in his brother's tale, specifically the horrifying recant of his unknown sexual abuse, had reminded the australian shepherd sharply of his own still-fresh memories. Without intending it, his spark softened in empathy over their shared experiences, that when the mention of Streetwise's passing came up, it had startled the nurse from his forced muteness.
"Yes," Streetwise confirmed, "Died."
The smile was back again but the smaller autodog realized now that it wasn't a happy one. It simply masqueraded as such. Rolling up his sleeves, Streetwise began to meticulously pull back his plating, no signs of pain registering on his beautiful face. For an astrosecond, First Aid was horrified, and he was on the very verge of purging when he noticed that only a little energon trickled from the exposed piping and lines. And that's when he realized why the akita bled so unnaturally... Among the large gaps of typical Cybertronian anatomy were strips and strips of glowing panels; tiny LEDs and luminescent rows of computer chips creating an eerie halo of light between the rest of Streetwise's natural components.
"I died that orn, the orn that Blades came with a friend, to ultimately kill our captors and free our family. He was not," Streetwise sighed sadly, pulling his arm towards himself so he might study the queer interior for a moment, "Able to save myself, obviously. I was buried with dozens of others and left in peace, until a certain monster orchestrating the war behind the scenes decided I would be of use to him. He cloned bits of my frame and fabricated the rest, then put me together: a weapon of mass destruction wrapped up in a familiar face, complete with memories and a spark. A tool meant to bring an end to Blades and many others..."
Looking up again, the akita locked optics with the younger autodog, folding his plating back and rolling his sleeve down. "I failed in that capacity, due to the heroic efforts of our brother and his friends, and with no other purpose, it was deemed that I should return to your lives as if I had only been gone temporarily," he explained. "You were still very young at the time, but it took a while before Mom and Dad could accept me as their son again. As for Blades... The Streetwise he loved died that orn in his mind. Though Blades views me in some sense as his brother these orns, he will never love me as he did those stellar cycles so very long ago. And that is probably for the better."
"Because now Blades loves someone else: You," Streetwise finished, smiling again. "He loves you in ways he never did me and I know that he suffers greatly every passing klik for having failed you. He always wanted to protect you, First Aid. That's why he came to me... Too afraid you might reject him, or worse, him hurt you."
"I-i-," the nurse began, intakes hitching at the swell of information.
"I-is... is everything alright?," a third vocalizer spoke up. Groove stood in the open doorway uncertainly, a tray of tea and snacks held in his servos as he peered inside the room, glancing between his two sons. He stiffened when he saw the rivers of coolant pouring down his youngest's cheekplates.
"I-i'm sorry! 'M s-so sor-sorry M-mommy!," First Aid sobbed aloud suddenly. "I-i never m-meant t-to- I-i-i ju-just-" Groove dropped his tray in a hurry, rushing into the room and climbing onto the berth beside the white autodog. As soon as the komondor was close, the australian shepherd turned into his carrier's side, pushing deep into his warm embrace. "I-it hurt s-so bad w-with Bl-blades a-and I co-couldn't stop t-that o-other mech from r...! T-then f-finding out a-about I-ignis and- I-i di-didn't k-know what t-to do! I n-never re-really hated a-any- I ju-just wa-wanted t-to st-stop h-hurting... I-i'm s-sorry... I'm so-sorry..."
"Ssh, ssh," Groove choked, his own optics overflowing with tears as he rocked the smaller autodog back and forth, "I-it's not your fault, First Aid. M-my baby... m-my poor baby... S-ssh, ssh..."
Outside the berthroom, Ignis wiped at her face, muffling a sniffle as she glanced at the affenpinscher standing on the other side of the doorway. Though Hot Spot stood with his arms crossed stiffly over his broad chestplates, a glimmer of coolant rimmed the bottom of his optics as well. It was the first time the youngling had ever seen her grand-sire cry. Peeking one last time at the three crying mechs within, the femme finally snuck away, heading back to her own berthroom.
C.M.D: Home at last...
Be kind; give me your mind~ REVIEW, please?