Hey all, I'd just like to express my gratitude once again for all the awesome reviews I've been getting on this story-it's always a great encouragement to me. Enjoy!
Switchshade onlined slowly. He felt an inexplicable sensation of peace, and even stranger, safety, which made it difficult to awaken. Just one more klik. Just one, of this strange recharge dream of safety and comfort, of a warm, incredibly gentle servo brushing over his helm, of… Primus, this is no recharge dream! Switchshade immediately onlined his optics, and his vocalizer involuntarily whirred in astonishment as he scrambled away on pure instinct. Lord Prime sat at his berthside, his battlemask retracted with a clear look of mild surprise on his faceplates as his servo hovered uncertainly mere inches from the dark mech's helm. Switchshade's spark leapt in terror. There was no anger to be felt in the Prime's field, but a mech as ancient and powerful as Lord Prime would have no difficulty disguising any emotions at will. What other reason would he have been reaching for Switchshade's helm, than to inflict pain in penalty for the black mech's unforgiveable weakness?
"F-Forgive me, m-m-my l-lord, I-I-I…" his vocalizer glitched static once again, and Switchshade cursed his incoherency, but he had been so startled when he came out of recharge that his processor was still spinning. Realizing he had just attempted to dodge a rightful and just punishment that would have come from the Prime himself, Switchshade cowered on the edge of the berth. He had no right to try to avoid punishment, from any of the Autobots, least of all from Lord Prime, especially after his deplorable weakness and failure to prove himself worthy of even the least regard during the scraplet crisis. Even the thought of his pathetic attempts at helping was enough to make him cringe, but it took him only an astroclick to compose himself.
Taking a shaky in-vent, Switchshade forced his trembling servos to brace his frame as best he could so as to slide closer to Lord Prime, placing himself within easy reach of those deadly servos again. "I-I s-s-submit myself f-for punishment, m-my l-lord Prime" he managed to whisper shakily, offlining his optics so he would not see the pain coming. Switchshade braced himself, tilting his helm back to offer the vulnerable cables of his throat to Prime's will, praying silently for the mercy that he dared not beg aloud for.
"Switchshade-" the concerned, surprised tone to Lord Prime's voice was enough to startle the black mech into onlining his optics once again, and he was surprised to see that his lord was simply staring at him in shock, making no move to touch him again. "I would not… I would never-" Switchshade watched with wide optics as Lord Prime was seemingly struck speechless, and when the black mech could not repress a minute flinch when the Prime moved a servo while speaking for emphasis, the larger mech leapt to his pedes and moved back as if he had been burned. "I would never lay a servo upon a wounded and unconscious mech with the intention to cause further harm, let alone one who has done so much for my people."
Lord Prime's deep blue optics burned with an intense sincerity that made Switchshade quickly drop his own dark red optics, not daring to hold optic contact with the Prime. He noticed that since his discomfort with the Prime's proximity had been made known, Lord Prime had opted to stay several paces away, and had lifted his servos slightly in a gesture that indicated that he was unarmed. Logically, Switchshade knew it would take no weapons for the Prime to break him, but the fact that Lord Prime was willing to show such a gesture of peace, just in regards to Switchshade's unease, was actually enough to slow his rapid sparkbeat slightly.
"Switchshade, I fear that we must talk again, for our last conversation seems to have slipped your processor, but I fear this is neither the time nor the place for a drawn out conversation. You still have much healing to do, and Ratchet has advised peace and quiet for a faster recovery." The black mech nodded quickly, lowering his helm respectfully and attempting to appear attentive to Lord Prime's words, while inwardly, he could only wonder if it was his injuries that had stayed his lord's servo, and if so, how long until Ratchet deemed him well enough to undergo the many penalties awaiting him? Ratchet himself will likely take his pound of flesh from my frame, after the rage he so clearly displayed at my failure when last we spoke… To say nothing of what Lord Prime will do, when my failure to recall the danger of the scraplet pod in time put everyone in the base at risk. It would seem that somehow, despite my egregious error in trying to bait the scraplets to follow me through the groundbridge, Bulkhead managed to cover for me and complete the mission, but that only places me into his debt as well.
"I understand, m-my l-lord. I w-will obey whatever you c-command. Once I h-have f-finished healing, I will-"
"I'm sorry to interrupt kid, but there's a situation out here I think you should be appraised of, Optimus." Ratchet's strong, confident voice cut through Switchshade's stammering with ease, and the black mech instantly fell silent as the medic's optics fell on him. "I received a signal on a restricted band." The CMO turned his attention to the Prime once more to alert him of why he had interrupted, though his slow, deliberate steps drew him ever nearer to Switchshade's medi-berth as he spoke to Optimus. "It appeared to be coming from a starship inside this solar system-it's an Autobot identification beacon." The Prime's optics went from concerned and mildly upset to focused and intent at the medic's words, his powerful frame already in motion as he headed towards the door leading to the common area with the main computer. "The details are on the third monitor, Optimus. I'll be along in a moment-just need a quick word with my patient."
Optimus nodded, moving to exit the medbay, before his grave optics fell upon Switchshade once more, who tried to bow lower from where he lay in reaction, causing the Prime's optic ridge to furrow again. "We will speak soon, Switchshade. There is much, it seems, that you still do not understand." With that, the Prime nodded once more to Ratchet, and then left, signaling the door to close behind him.
Left alone with Ratchet, Switchshade was unsure whether to feel safer or in even greater danger than he had been only kliks ago. A glance at the wrench idly twirling between the medic's dexterous servos that seemed to have conveniently appeared from his subspace clued the black mech in to the fact that he was, in fact, majorly fragged. "Si-"
"So help me, Switchshade, if you call me 'sir' one more time, I will make certain you regret it until the end of time." The black mech tensed up even further, wondering if now, finally, this would be what sent the medic over the edge and began the cycle of pain, but there was a long silence, and when he dared to look up, Ratchet was sitting on a nearby medi-berth, watching him quietly. "Ratchet. I'm-"
"And if you say you're sorry for something that is in no way, shape, or form your fault, see previous threat."
"Ratchet."
Switchshade lifted a servo to cover his vocalizer uselessly. It was too late, the damage had already been done, and yet the medic, against all odds, did not appear angry at the insubordinate tone, but instead, chuckled. "I take back everything I ever said about you being a good patient. You are every bit as infuriating as Bulkhead on a bad day, just in a very different way."
Confused and wary red optics met warm blue for a long moment, and then Switchshade began to relax. He relaxed a great deal more when the medic seemed to realize what he was doing and set the wrench down. "Listen, I understand that I don't understand all that you have suffered, and what kind of headspace that's left you in, but I do need to get out there and help Optimus, so I'll give you a very brief overview of what he's probably going to say when he does get time to have that talk with you." Ratchet's tone was much gentler than it had been before, and it gave Switchshade the courage to sit up straighter and meet Ratchet's optics as he continued.
"We. Are. Not. Going. To. Hurt. You." The medic looked him right in the optics for a long moment, and then nodded, once, and rose to his pedes.
"Optimus was in here quite a bit while you were in the most dangerous stages of healing, offering comfort when you became distressed in recharge. Every single one of the Autobots has taken the time to find a way to visit you as you healed, and I include the humans in that statement. At no point did any of them wish harm upon you, nor did they intend to hurt you in any way. You have done absolutely nothing wrong to deserve punishment of any kind, aside from being a slag-sparked idiot in trying to draw the scraplets to you with no regard for your own personal safety, and even if you had done something 'worthy of punishment', the very worst penalty that Optimus will ever condone is some time to cool your pedes in a cell. And that would only be if you attempted to attack or harm one of us unprovoked."
Switchshade just gaped at the medic, and didn't even have the presence of processor to flinch away when a gentle servo on his shoulder urged him to lie back down upon the medi-berth. "I know that look, kid, that's the 'I don't believe you, I deserve punishment, you're lying to try to get me to drop my guard and then you'll inflict unimaginable amounts of pain upon me' look. Knock it off."
Switchshade cycled his optics in surprise, and then caught a tiny, mostly-concealed smile upon the medic's faceplates. "If anything, you deserve our gratitude. While I stand by my statement, you are in fact, a slag-sparked fool for risking yourself like that; the truth is that we likely owe you our lives. If you had not acted as you did, the damage to our frames would have been much greater, and there is a good chance that Bulkhead would not have been well enough to follow you through as a second beacon, finishing off the last wave of those pit-spawn. I might have been too badly damaged to help patch up the others, to complete the groundbridge, to bring Optimus, Arcee, and Cliffjumper home. I don't know what could have happened if you hadn't acted as you did, but I can honestly say that I am very glad you did."
As he spoke, the medic nudged Switchshade gently, and then made his way to the door, turning back to offer a final smile as he prepared to follow Optimus to the main room. "Rest, and heal Switchshade. And one more thing- thank you." With that, the Hatchet, scourge of the Decepticons and Autobots alike, ancient warrior of old and renowned healer of legend, winked at Switchshade, and then left the medbay, closing the door behind him.