Chapter 3: Loss and Recovery

"Adagio for Strings" Samuel Barber

"Hymn to the Fallen" John Williams

Author's note: While writing this chapter, I realized that I (unconsciously) pulled from some personal hospital experience dealing with a very ill but recovering friend. That tidbit might not be interesting, but to me it adds a level of verisimilitude to the last scene of the chapter. As always, I appreciate the comments and constructive criticism. Thank you!

Flamestrike had slipped into deep recharge by the time Skyfire made his initial descent into Autobot City. Hound and Trailbreaker were still perched next to the padded bunk where she lay, lost in their own thoughts when Skyfire's com unit lit up.

"Incoming message from the city, you three," announced Skyfire, angling over the ruins searching for a path down to the medical wing.

"Two," answered Hound, "Flamestrike's out of it, and that's probably for the best." He glanced down at his right hand, still lightly holding her left one. Even her slender, grey fingers were coated with a sheen of seeping Energon from wounds too numerous to count, caused by the shattering impact of her fall. Though dented and torn, they grasped his in an unmistakable clasp. He squeezed his own black fingers once, gently, but there was no response.

"I'll go up there and see what Flare or Blaster has to say," Trailbreaker said, standing up with a thoughtful expression in his optics. With a final, apologetic pat on Flame's shoulder strut, he passed Hound on his way forward to Skyfire's cockpit. "Maybe Prime's managed to get the City back under Autobot control. There doesn't appear to be any Decepticon activity out there, though the whole place looks – slag! - like a deserted junkyard." The black mech left the cockpit door open as he settled into the pilot's seat and opened the Valkyrie's channel with Autobot City.

Hound tried to find an available porthole in order to form his own opinion, but Skyfire's jet mode was bereft of windows in the cabin area. He sighed, realizing it might be better if he didn't see what the City looked like right now. Unbidden, the memory of his fallen comrades crossed his cortex. Loss was a part of war, true, but the Ark warriors had been through so many sorties without a single casualty! He had seen friends return to Primus before, but this group was particularly close due to landing on Earth. It'll never be the same without them, he thought sadly. We're left to pick up the pieces and mourn.

Suddenly, Skyfire's whole body shuddered, convulsing in what could only be wracking sobs. Hound was nearly jolted out of his seat and grabbed a protruding strut for support with this left hand, his right clenching painfully around Flamestrike's fingers as she slid forward on the bunk. The green tracker braced his feet solidly against the bucking floor as he threw a frantic glance up to the cockpit. Trailbreaker gripped one side of his chair, his nozzle-arm draped across a mobile face frozen stiff, staring straight ahead in shock.

"Trailbreaker?" Hound called out. Trailbreaker started shaking his head from side to side, throwing his free arm down and away from his head in a violent gesture. Skyfire's shuddering eased slightly as he tried to straighten out into his descent. Hound tried again, worried and confused. "Trailbreaker, what did they say?" Trailbreaker slumped forward, shoulders canted in defeat. His hand came up, this time to push the com mike away from his face and drop it on Skyfire's instrument panel. Hound heard the black defender moaning now, but none of the sounds were intelligible.

Skyfire's voice crackled through a speaker located next to Hound's searching head. "Solarflare contacted us from Autobot City. Optimus Prime is dead." The Valkyrie dipped again in the sky, shakily straightening out. His normally quiet voice took on a harsher quality. "Hot Rod, Ultra Magnus, Perceptor, and a few others, including the Dinobots, took off in our two remaining functional shuttles after a second Decepticon attack on the City. They left us behind and took the Matrix with them. We're alone here."

"No," cried Hound, disbelieving. "Not Prime. Not Optimus!" The gentle tracker joined Trailbreaker in a defeated slump, resting his helm on the folded arms bracing against Flamestrike's battered torso. Hound's optics dimmed in sorrow as he, too, grieved the passing of his commander, Optimus Prime.

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Skyfire thundered down the ruined corridor, kicking debris to either side as he made a beeline for the nearest recovery berth. His huge arms clutched the much smaller brown-and-flame colored body closely to his chest, her limp extremities drooping, leaving a slight spatter trail of leaking Energon. The flame-colored bladed tail jiggled against his left elbow in time to his steps, normally a humorous sight. Red and yellow motion caught his attention and the scientist called out to the twin warriors busy clearing the rubble. "Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, drop that and help me! Get this door open! Hurry!"

Matched shocked looks overlaid initially with a faint sneer of pained contempt quickly gave way to decisive action as the Twins caught sight of Skyfire's burden. Both mechs leaped over chunks of fallen debris and smashed equipment to beat the struggling scientist to the room where he was obviously heading. Gracefully strong digits pushed the swinging double doors wide as Skyfire entered and the twin Lamborghinis followed him inside. Sideswipe hit the light panel, sighing in relief as the illumination hummed into life. Sunstreaker darted forward and swept the recovery berth clear of the larger shards, cursing under his breath at the additional damage to his latest wax job. He whirled around to snag the towel that Sideswipe tossed him and both twins quickly wiped the surface free of clinging dust. They stepped aside as Skyfire knelt down to lay his burden gingerly on the recharge bed.

Skyfire had just leaned upright when a commotion in the hallway outside stilled any incipient conversation. The doors burst inward carrying a small, battered group of Autobots, their faces indeterminate at the moment of entry except for the varying degrees of concern. Last to enter, shuffling in well behind the gaggle, were Hound and Trailbreaker. Babbling voices rose as each abandoned warrior surrounded the recharge bunk.

"Did you find her?" "Where were you guys?" "Oh, Primus!" "Hey, watch yourself!" "This place isn't secure, we have to get the sensors back up!" "What are we going to do?" The voices stilled as Skyfire suddenly stood up to his full imposing height. He spread his arms, angling his huge white form in a protective stance over Flamestrike's berth. Looking down, he saw nine pairs of distressed optics focus upward to meet his sweeping gaze. Setting aside his own grief for the moment, Skyfire decided that it was up to him to take charge, at least for the moment. Later, he would have time to mourn. For now, he needed to follow his own dedication to preserve life.

"Here is what we're going to do." Skyfire's quiet statement soothed the tension in the air like a cup of oil calming rippling waters. "I," and he thumbed his chest in emphasis, "am going to take charge of this patient. First Aid," and here the huge white finger swung down to point out one anguished form in the group. "I know you probably have many others who need your skills, but I ask that you be available for my call." The Protectobot, newly promoted by fire to the rank of CMO, merely nodded his head and took one weary step backwards.

"Hoist, make sure that nothing interrupts the power to the medical bay. After two attacks, we're going to need every last piece of working medical equipment just to keep everyone functioning." The green and yellow tow truck straightened up at this statement.

"I'll get Grapple to help and we'll get right on it!" He stepped out of the room, gently guiding First Aid ahead of him. "C'mon, 'Aid, Skyfire's got things in hand here."

Red Alert, who had been surprisingly quiet up to that point, blurted out, "What about security? Blaster may be up in the Tower, but he can't possibly cover every approach! We can't be allowed to let security slip, especially now that we're left in a crippled state! The Decepticons could be anywhere! All it would take to shut us down is one more…"

"Red!" snarled a visibly angry Solarflare, crest flicking high, "why don't you help by resetting the relays for your long-range receivers? That's a start, at least."

"Yeah!" chimed Sunstreaker, using his towel ineffectively to buff at his scratched arm. "It'd be a damn sight better than the whining you've been doing." Sneering in disgust at the fine abrasions marring his golden body, he slammed the towel down on a counter against the back wall, whirling to advance menacingly on Red Alert, Sideswipe a red shadow in step behind his twin. "Or maybe we can just wire you into the City's processor!"

"Enough!" commanded Skyfire. The Twins froze in place, casting wary glances up at Skyfire, then they relaxed, muttering. Solarflare's crest flattened down with a chime on her helm and she stopped mantling, resettling her grey wings. Gracefully, the femme glided over to her friend, opposite the recharge bunk from Skyfire. She directed one more murderous glance at Red Alert, then turned her attention back to Flamestrike, pointedly ignoring the Security director.

"Actually, that's a good idea," Skyfire admitted, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Red Alert, go and at least jury-rig some sort of early-warning detection. Grab Hoist if you need help." Forestalling any argument, he continued quickly. "Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, keep clearing the hallway for use, but be nearby in case I need you." Dazed looks met his orders, but the three sports cars headed out, not without a nasty push from Sunstreaker to Red Alert before Sideswipe pulled his twin away.

Skyfire looked at the four remaining Autobots in the room. Solarflare had taken up a position near Flamestrike's head and was carefully wiping down the brown armor with the towel Sunstreaker left behind. Hound and Trailbreaker stood in the corner near the door. They hadn't moved or spoken since arriving, their faces registering twin emotions of loss and sorrow. Skyfire quickly came to a decision and turned to the last mech in the room, also standing in lost, sorrowful contemplation.

"Bluestreak," the huge white Valkyrie murmured gently. Wide, tormented blue optics climbed up, slowly, to meet Skyfire's. "Bluestreak, would you please take Hound and Trailbreaker to Prime so they can pay their respects? Afterwards, I think the three of you better come back here for a while." He didn't say why, but he knew that they needed time to grieve, time better spent in the company of their closest friends. Bluestreak trudged out of the room without a word, leading Hound and Trailbreaker down the cluttered, orange hallway.

Solarflare watched the trio depart, then swept her intense amber gaze to regard Skyfire. "What happens now?" she asked, her very question a subtle declaration of the right to stay by her friend, no matter what Skyfire wanted.

"Now comes the hard part," he sighed, kneeling down next to Solarflare and gesturing at the unmoving brown femme, covered in more injuries than he could count, much less imagine repairing. His own blue optics dimmed slightly at the thought of the monumental task, then his face set in resolute determination. "Now, we try to put things back together."

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Skyfire wound up placing Flamestrike in stasis-lock for the first two weeks of her long recovery. The pain, he explained, would be too much for her to bear even in deep recharge. He worked slowly, diligently, calling on First Aid and Hoist for help and even locating old Sparkplug Witwicky to come help fix some of the finer details of her circuitry. The four mechanics had to almost completely disassemble Flame in order to reach the deeper fractures and crushing damage. Long repair shifts were always balanced out between them, though Skyfire took on the brunt of the repair work. The femme's broken body and shattered limbs slowly, but eventually took on more normal configurations. Flamestrike's anti-gravity generators, however, were beyond the abilities of any of them to repair.

"These were one of Wheeljack and Ratchet's designs," commented Sparkplug thoughtfully, running a finger along the inside wiring of the detached generators. Flamestrike, still stasis-locked, had been gently manipulated into her gryphon form in order to remove the mangled units. "Without their notes, I don't know what goes where, exactly. I'll give it a shot. Having something to work on is a lot better than worrying about my son." Sparkplug's voice stilled for a moment, then continued in a tone too low for the tall mech to quite catch. "or my grandson."

"That's all we can ask, Sparkplug," replied Skyfire, currently re-folding the brown femme back into her robot mode. Having a gryphon, however docile, on his working surface unsettled the scientist for reasons he couldn't explain. "And I'm sure Spike is fine. Bumblebee has a knack for getting out of tight spots, and he'd never leave Spike behind." With a final snap of servos, he stepped back from his patient, giving her a critical inspection. "I'll go see if there's anyone who may be able to access Wheeljack's project notes- maybe Sideswipe? In the meantime, why don't you please see what you can do with these for now."

Sparkplug cleared his throat, then jerked his head to the unmoving femme. "What about her? Will she be okay without these?"

Skyfire pondered a moment, rubbing his chin. He kneeled down to inspect Flamestrike's inner supports more closely, running a light fingertip along her side and spinal brace. "It's true they did lend some internal support. But," he continued, "as long as she's recovering here and we don't have her do anything strenuous… She should be just fine."

"Well, okay. You're the expert!" said Sparkplug with a low chuckle as he shouldered one of the units and walked out the door towards his waiting truck, presumably to take them to his workshop. A few minutes later he returned. "Hey, if Perceptor ever checks in, maybe he can offer advice," suggested the aging mechanic as he trundled off with the second broken generator. "I'll be back when I've made some progress. Or you can contact me!" came the call from the corridor.

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"You're sure it's time?" asked the Valkyrie, one huge hand hovering over the stasis-switch. Two days had passed with no word from Sparkplug.

"I'm sure, Skyfire," responded First Aid, a diagnostic tool sweeping up and down Flamestrike's mostly-repaired body. "She can't stay in stasis-lock forever. Her internal repair circuits won't work until she's brought back into some kind of recharge." The young CMO put away his reader, placed his hands on Flamestrike's shoulder joints "just in case" and nodded to Skyfire.

Skyfire pressed the sequence to release Flamestrike's spark from stasis. At first, nothing appeared to happen other than a light twitch of the bladed tail and a slight illumination from the smooth green optics. First Aid lifted his hands from her shoulders and turned to look back at Skyfire. "See, that wasn't…"

"Screeeeeee!!" came the audio-shattering cry, ascending octaves in a painful keen. With a sudden wrench, the brown and flame colored form writhed on the recharge bed. Her repaired limbs flailed madly, threatening to undo all the delicate work of the last sixteen days. Her optics flashed in a brilliant emerald nova, suddenly darkened, then flickered in random illuminative patterns, staring blindly without recognition. Her crest-jets exploded in a vortex of flame, scorching the recharge berth as she arched her back painfully, still keening.

"Skyfire, help!" wailed First Aid as he frantically grabbed for the flailing arms. "Grab her feet!" Skyfire reached forward, snagging one kicking leg but earning a cutting swipe of the lashing bladed tail before securing the other. He moved close, pressing one large white foot down on the flame-blade, and leaned as much weight as he dared on the struggling form trying to keep her down, keep her still. First Aid wasn't having as much success, being much the same size as Flamestrike. He grasped both her hands in his, but couldn't help leaning closer to her face and the foot-long jets of flame back blasting upwards from the crest on her helm. "Ouch! Ow! That's hot!"

The commotion in the recovery room caught the attention of Bluestreak, on cleanup detail in the hallway outside. The young gunner burst through the double-doors, pistol in hand. His firing arm dropped and his optics widened in stunned surprise at the sight of Skyfire and First Aid struggling with an awakened-but-not-coherent Flamestrike. "What the – she's awake!?" stammered the young mech, nonplussed.

Blazing green optics fogged with frantic, unthinking confusion focused towards the intruder's voice. Flamestrike froze in place as Bluestreak's outline silhouetted briefly against the hallway lighting, dimming now with the doors' closing. Her optics flickered, darkening and lightening, still staring at the younger warrior for long moments without a hint of recognition. The flames from her crest-jets lowered, then died out in a wisp of smoke. Slowly, movement returned to her still form. Flamestrike relaxed slightly, reclining against the still-smoldering recharge berth, her strange gaze never straying from Bluestreak.

"Bluestreak! Thank Primus!" sighed First Aid, instantly grasping the significance of Bluestreak's appearance and the sudden eerie quieting of his patient. "Get your tailpipe over here," and the medic grabbed a nearby stool, "by the light – no, here." Bluestreak gingerly took a seat on the indicated stool, Flamestrike's flickering optics following his every move with a perplexed fixed gaze. He opened his mouth to speak and was instantly waved silent by Skyfire. Questioning blue optics begged for an explanation.

"She's just out of stasis-lock," explained Skyfire in the quietest voice he could manage. "I'm not quite sure what's going on in that cortex of hers; but we need her in recharge, we need her quiet, and if your, ah… presence" and here the jet indicated Bluestreak's door-winged form, "keeps her from tearing herself apart in shock, then you are going to sit there and keep an eye on her for us, right?"

"R-right," was the tentative reply. Glancing around, the gunner noticed there actually wasn't much to do while he sat there. Flamestrike wasn't able to think right, much less talk, and her intense furrowed gaze was just on the wrong side of unsettling. First Aid slipped behind the recharge bed, altering the flow of energy to keep her subdued, but "awake." He looked back up at the white scientist. "Um, Skyfire?" he asked, tentatively. "Exactly how long am I supposed to sit here?"

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In the end, First Aid discovered that only five Autobots were able to keep Flamestrike quiet while she recovered. Bluestreak, Solarflare, Hound, Trailbreaker and, oddly enough, Skyfire took turns sitting by her berth. First Aid continued to alter the energy flow for the recharge program. "It's like being on Valium" was Sparkplug's dry observation. He checked in at regular intervals, but still hadn't managed to repair the anti-gravity generators. Flamestrike lay quietly enough when one of her "watchers" (as First Aid called them) was there, but soon lapsed into violent restlessness when left alone. Each Autobot figured out the best way to keep the recovering femme quiet during their watch.

Trailbreaker would sneak in a small television set for his watch, keeping the sound low, and play old movies and musicals. Bluestreak sat quietly, a difficult enough task for him, and read over datapads in conscious mimicry of his former mentor, making sure he was always in full view for his short watch. Solarflare busied herself with "keeping" chores, wiping down Flame's armor, and checking the readouts innumerable times in hopes that her friend's cognizance would return. Skyfire generally used his watch time, also kept short, to examine his patient and ask her questions that he knew she wouldn't be able to answer. Hound held her hand and chatted to her in a quiet voice. He and Solarflare assumed the long watch times to give Skyfire and Bluestreak a break.

Flamestrike's physical condition improved with every passing day, as her internal repair units worked on the last of her wounds. But her flickering optics and incoherent stare told the story of her inner spark, lost and trying to resurface. Word filtered back from Cybertron that Unicron was destroyed and Galvatron banished, but it wasn't until Rodimus Prime's return to Autobot city a short time later that she finally awakened.