'We will not hurt you'. 'We will not hurt you', he said. 'We', as in, the Autobots. Bulkhead, Bumblebee, Cliffjumper, Arcee, even Ratchet and Lord Prime. They have no interest in hurting me…
Objectively, Switchshade could recognize that the smile spreading across his faceplates was undeniably foolish, but he couldn't have stopped the expression if he tried. While Lord Prime had vowed that he wished no harm upon him before, but it had been difficult to believe his sincerity when lies and trickery had simply been part of day-to-day life aboard the Nemesis. Promises were made and broken within kliks, and pity the fool who believed another mech when they swore they meant no harm. Here, with the Autobots, it really did seem to be different, however. Unless Lord Prime was playing a very long game, and Ratchet was in on it, which seemed unlikely at this point, perhaps they truly did mean to keep their word, and inflict no harm, even in punishment.
"The penalty shall be fitting for the crime, and will not, under any circumstances, involve physical violence. Autobots do not employ physical violence to enforce command. We base our command structures by rank, yes, but it is enforced by trust and respect, not fear and pain." Switchshade replayed the memory file of Lord Prime's words when he had first vowed that no corporal punishment would ever be used upon him or any other, and was still rather surprised when he realized that he believed it. The black mech replayed it once more, focusing on Lord Prime's sincerity and concern, and felt that same befuddled, euphoric grin cross his face without his intent. Doubtless, as Lord Prime had promised, he would return to speak with Switchshade again once the current situation had been dealt with, but even just hearing another reassurance from Ratchet, and having seen the Autobots' clear bonds of family, love, and trust amongst each other was enough to reassure the black mech that he was in no danger here.
Slowly, careful not to set off any alarms for all the monitoring equipment that Ratchet had set up to watch all of his vitals, Switchshade began to delicately remove the sensitive equipment. Taking care to ensure he didn't break any of the doubtlessly valuable and difficult to obtain equipment, the black mech slowly and painstakingly freed himself, and then managed to shakily get to his newly-reconstructed pedes. Ratchet really did brilliant work; Switchshade admitted to himself, as he took a few cautious steps, the new armor plating and repaired protoform already well-synced to the rest of his frame. Tingles of pain shot up throughout his pedes and servos, running up to the base of newly-replaced doorwings still wrapped in copious bandages, all the way up to the top of his helm and then back down again. The pain, while distracting, was easily manageable, and in fact quite a good sign, in his opinion, as only solar cycles ago, he had expected to be deactivated entirely. At least now, he knew he was alive, and Ratchet had even promised that he was likely to make a full recovery.
Logically, the black mech knew he probably shouldn't be trying to move just yet, but he really wanted to depart from the medbay, at least for a short period of time, and stretch his frame, try out his new pedes. He knew that his chambers awaited, and although the makeshift berth there was almost exactly the same as the one he had just vacated in the medbay, the one in his room was in a much more private setting, and perhaps there he could find a bit more privacy than in the medbay. Ratchet had been quick to point out that both Autobots and humans alike had been eager to visit him while he had been unconscious, but now that he had awoken the novelty would likely wear off and things could return to normal. Now… how do I get to my assigned berthroom without being detected?
A quick scan of the area immediately outside of the medbay door revealed that Bulkhead stood guard, although for what purpose, Switchshade could not say. The rest of the Autobots appeared to be gathered in the common area, and before the black mech could worry about how he could get past the Wrecker, Miko's voice called out to her guardian, beckoning him to join the others as Ratchet and Optimus attempted to contact the source of the Autobot beacon. Switchshade waited until the Wrecker was a good distance down the hall, and then followed, masking the quiet sound of the door's opening and then shutting by doing so when the Wrecker's pedesteps fell.
Much more quietly, Switchshade glided along the floors, making no noise despite how uncertain his pedesteps were with his still-healing frame. He made it nearly to the open-doorway entrance into the common area before stopping, listening to Lord Prime's clear, confident voice declaring, "Unknown vessel, this is Autobot Outpost Omega 1. Identify yourself." Carefully, Switchshade peeked into the room, and was grateful when it appeared that all attention had been drawn to the computer screen as they awaited an answer. The black mech carefully edged his way along the wall behind them, praying silently that Ratchet did not turn, that no mech would catch sight of him.
Static whirred, and then a cocky voice answered Lord Prime's command with a twinge of sarcasm that was inherently familiar to Bulkhead, if the green Wrecker's optics suddenly lighting up with extreme joy and excitement was any indication. "I've had warmer welcomes from Decepticon combat brigades."
Bulkhead grinned widely, "Wheeljack?! You old 'Con-crusher! What are you doing all the way out here?" The open enthusiasm and genuine happiness in his tone caused a tiny, fond smile to cross Switchshade's faceplates, even as he safely made it to the hallway on the opposite end of the room, quietly but swiftly making his way through and out of sight. As he continued, not certain if his frame would be able to withstand being upright much longer, he heard 'Wheeljack' responding to Bulkhead's query, the other's voice fading the farther Switchshade got from the common area. "Bulkhead? That you? What's with…?"
Switchshade wearily opened the door to his chambers, and despite the fact that he had only slept in them two nights, he felt a sense of comfort when the door closed behind him again. He stumbled blindly to the berth, the small size of the room making it easy, and as he collapsed down, that tiny, fond smile stayed on his faceplates. He had never met Wheeljack, despite the white mech's inclusion in the war, but he did recognize the designation from the databanks on the Nemesis, and recalled that Wheeljack had been one of the Wreckers, and a close friend of Bulkhead's if the green mech's reaction had been anything to go by.
The black mech curled into himself slightly, venting shallowly until the pain that had begun to rack up from his movements began to decrease again. He offlined his optics, frame relaxing into the berth, and had nearly sunk into recharge again when there came a knock upon his door. Fearful red optics blinked open, and, knowing it was inevitable to resist, Switchshade ex-vented in resignation before calling out for the mech at the door to enter. When the door opened, Ratchet stood on the other side, wrench in hand and a blank expression on his faceplates. Switchshade offered a meek, sheepish grin. Ratchet's optics narrowed.