Chapter Six: Freeloader
This wasn't the torture chamber, thank Primus; it was the wash racks! When Bumblebee and Wheeljack appeared after Prime left, I was sure that he'd sent them to finish the job. Apparently not.
Bumblebee started the water running and gestured for me to get under the spray. I obeyed, not ready to test my luck again at aggravation without consequence. Knock Out had wanted to make me wash back at base—and had offered to fix up my paint job, to boot—but I had pointed out that the second part of the mission would put me back in the field right after, so it was better to save it for later. Breakdown had laughed at Knock Out's disappointed expression and promised that he'd help give me the full treatment when we got back. Then the alert went off and the Vehicons started pouring into the med bay, and Breakdown had waved at me from his position checking out a miner as I left.
I focused on the sensation of the water on my plating to try and ignore the pain in my spark that stemmed from thinking of them. Had news of my capture reached them? Were they looking for me? I pictured Breakdown rushing around the Nemesis, demanding that he be allowed to find the Autobots and beat my location out of them. It was a comforting thought. Breakdown would fix this.
/Need some cleanser?/ Bumblebee interrupted my train of thought. He got some of the stuff on a big sponge and handed it to me.
How was I going to scrub myself down with these cuffs holding my wrists together? I just looked at him, willing him to see the issue here and wondering how he'd get around it. Maybe now I could get them taken off for a few kliks.
His optics cycled wide. /Oh, sorry! I totally didn't think of your cuffs! Here, give that to me./
What? I gave it back, and Bumblebee stepped into the wash racks with me. He started running the sponge over my plating. I could see Wheeljack watching from his seat by the entrance and felt my faceplate heat up with embarrassment. The scout seemed to feel none of the awkwardness.
/So,/ he said, cleaning the spokes of the wheels on my back, /you're a grounder, huh? What's your Earth alt?/
"...I'm not telling you that."
/How do you feel about Earth? Do you like it here? I'm guessing you spend a lot of time on the surface, since we haven't run into you before now./
I hesitated. That wasn't sensitive information, was it? My opinion on Earth doesn't affect missions or anything, after all. And it's uncomfortable to just stand here in silence while he's washing me.
"It's okay. I like the variety in terrain."
/Me, too. I love driving in all the different areas. I mean, some are aren't as well suited for driving as others, like the mountains. I tried that one they call Saint Hilary's or Ellen's or whatever, and it didn't end well at all./
I sniggered as he moved down my back to my legs. "Fell down the mountain, did you?"
/Try "somersaulted." Ratchet threw a hissy fit when I got back,/ he laughed. /He gets that way when we get hurt through our own stupidity. It's how we know he cares./
"Knock Out does that sometimes. He's usually more passive-aggressive about it, but when Breakdown or I get hurt really bad, like when Breakdown lost his eye, he really—" I stopped.
Bumblebee moved around to my front and handed me the sponge again. /Here. You should be able to reach the rest yourself./
I started scrubbing at my chestplate, glad for the diversion from my slip, but then he spoke again.
/You're really close with the two of them, aren't you?/
"What's it to you? I'm not going to give you any more information you could use against my faction."
/Sorry. I wasn't trying to pry./ He shut up after that and just helped me finish up washing and drying myself off. Wheeljack didn't speak the whole rest of the time, but when Bumblebee came to my cell the next solar cycle and brought me to the main room to hang out for a bit, he came along again. He'd just sit off to the side, watching. It was unsettling at first, but Bumblebee put me more at ease than I cared to admit. We'd talk about Earth: it was a safe enough topic if we avoided anything involving our factions. He introduced me to this racing game, and we'd play that for joors. I couldn't remember the last time I was around someone my age like this. Maybe never. If I wasn't careful, I'd forget that he was the enemy.
The other Autobots joined in occasionally. I decided that I should go along with them as best I could. They'd have to drop their guard eventually, and there was no reason I shouldn't enjoy myself while I waited for an opening.
I didn't talk to Upwash, and she didn't talk to me. I had nothing to say in the face of her betrayal.
Wheeljack started participating in our conversations eventually, and I could see how he and Breakdown would have gotten along during their Wrecker vorns. They were both rough and didn't give a scrap what mechs thought. That was where the similarities ended, though. I couldn't stay on that train of thought for long before my spark started hurting. Breakdown will be here soon, I reminded myself every time. He'll get me out of here, and things will go back to normal. We can go home to Knock Out on the Nemesis. Everything will be okay.
One solar cycle, my cell door opened to reveal Wheeljack standing in the hall alone.
