So as I mentioned previously I have decided to continue this story, but it has gone from light-hearted PWP to fucked up and dark. My mind is…a weird place. Anyways, if you just wanted to read hot robot smut stick to the first chapter, but if you dare to see the fallout of the first chapter then here you go, but you have been warned. Pain and sadness ensue.

Chapter Warning-Graphic depictions of pain. A little gore.

Chapter 2-Bonds

Tranquility. A strange concept to some and in war, to all. It was hard enough to be happy in such an unjust universe, but war stripped a bot of the ability completely. Many would say they couldn't remember the last time they were at peace: with themselves, with their comrades, with the universe. Others would say they never had been, that tranquility was a figment of imagination that had never truly existed. Neither side knew which was right and even more unsettling was the fact that the real answer was…they both were.

Those who could barely remember times gone passed were pained by all they had lost. The remembrance of such a state was always in their minds and the knowledge that they could not, maybe never would again, reach that place was terrifying. But what was worse: grasping happiness as if it were tangible and subsequently losing it or never having known it at all? Whether life had started before or after the war had erupted, some had never been able to say definitively that they had ever been happy. The entire situation was sad in ways that were both straightforward and incomprehensible at the same time.

Somehow though, through all that was happening, surrounded by a multitude of unhappy comrades, one was tranquil at this very moment in time. He recharged soundly, comfortably, effortlessly. Life was easy as he intook slowly, deeply and dreamed ever so peacefully. His frame was languid, splayed out in a manner that spoke of easy contentment, of pleasure in every cable, every joint, and every lax tensioner. Side by side with one he had truly loved, twins from spark to offlinement, he couldn't have felt more complete. The pleasure of knowing his mind was full, his spark was not alone, burned fiercely through him as surely as any star ever had. At this moment the envy from any other who knew of this perfect state would have drowned out rationality to leave nothing but a rage borne of jealousy, misery, and loneliness.

What one would soon realize however was that they would not wish to change places with him for anything in the known universe. Even to obtain that perfect state, the answer would still be no for the ensuing spark-wrenching is more brutal, more painful, and more completely debilitating than anything ever before.

It truly is the cruelest cut of all.

Never before had unadulterated happiness and utter torture coexisted simultaneously so perfectly than the exact moment Dreadwing awoke from his nightmare. His spark had truly felt whole, felt as though Skyquake were online and well, right next to him. It had been a coding flux so real his mind and body had truly believed it, had reestablished that connection that tied him so effortlessly to his brother. Everything was right with the world except when he came back online. The moment consciousness had returned to his processor so did realization and that bond was ripped away as it had been that first time when his twin was deactivated.

The pain was excruciating, debilitating at its best and unendurable at its worst. His back arched off the berth in torment and an anguished scream erupted from him so unlike his normally calm and deep vocalizations. His optics flashed open, liquid fire in that stark yellow faceplate, and his claws scratched relentlessly at the berth sheets, gouging the metal below in dark rivulets. The screams reverberated through him as his spark was ripped apart for the second time in his life. The electricity burned fiercely along his circuits, alighting every pain receptor along its way and still his spark tried in vain to quell the fire that burned inside him. The compact swirl of bright blue energy threw tendrils outward slamming into the walls of his inner cavity and scorching the inside of his chestplate. The pulse was erratic, whirling quickly in an attempt to maintain its normal balance and ease the frame through the damage.

The current reached his processor and his neural net exploded with data, every code written of nothing but pain. His helm felt like it would explode as he thrashed it from side to side helpless against the onslaught. His frame convulsed against the berth repeatedly, scraping his wings along each time, chipping the paint and breaking the metal ribbing until finally one of the delicate appendages crumped under his weight. A renewed surge of torture sliced through him from the loss of his wing and sparks exploded from the now open wound. His screams came faster now, a new one erupting before the previous one had tailed off.

Something heavy slammed into his chest but recognition was impossible at that moment. His body continued to thrash, pushing upward against the weight trying to contain his ferocity. Something sharp pinched his wrist joint but the dull sting was lost underneath his never-ending torment. A rush of numbness engulfed his right arm and dispersed outward with lightning quickness devolving the remainder of his frame into a dormant state. The flow reached his processor and immediately everything felt fuzzy, his screams dying in his overworked vocalizer. His optics flickered as he allowed his mind to go mercifully blank, the feeling of his chestplates being manually opened his last sensation before darkness claimed his ravaged processor.

The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional. Dreadwing woke up screaming wordlessly again, aching unbearably from his loss. Skyquake had been torn from him not once but twice. Twice his life had gone from purposeful to absolutely meaningless in less than an astrosecond. Cruel reality crushed down on him and he cried out to keep from weeping. No bot could ever understand this pain, no bot could ever fathom the wrenching that broke his spark, destroying him from the inside out.

"Dreadwing! DREADWING!" somebot was shouting but he cared not. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing outside his frame, outside his mind mattered against this pain.

"What is wrong with him?"

"I'm not sure. Something is wrong with his spark. I'm putting him out again. Medical induced stasis this time though. At least until we figure this out."

Why? Why had his mind done this to him? Why had his body done this to itself? To believe the lie again so easily?

It was because he longed for it so much. He wanted Skyquake back with him and nothing could ever change the extent of which he yearned for that fact. Thankfully though, the other voices were true to their words as the world was swallowed and his mind was drowned in black.

Knockout stood by his patient's berth examining the spark that lay just below him inside of the spread chestplates. His cherry red plating glistened as he moved emphasizing how pristine he kept himself even with his immense workload. If a bot didn't know better they would think him a modelbot or pleasurebot not the competent medic he truly was. Vanity aside the Aston Martin was a decent mech, kind sparked for a Decepticon and caring enough to treat his patients well, at least most of the time. Right now, he was deeply considering his current patient's best interests and none of the choices seemed all that good.

He passed his tablet over the spark again to take more readings and continued to be surprised by what he saw. Dreadwing's spark was full of holes and lacerations within the electrical field, both old scars and new wounds littered the plating that contained the volatile life source. He pondered for a moment the implications of all this and realized he had seen a similar effect before.

It was in that moment that he heard the thunderous steps announcing the approach of his leader. Perfect timing. The doors to the medical bay whooshed open behind him and he turned toward the Lord of the Decepticons, helm respectfully bowed. "Have you made any helmway?"

"I believe so, my liege," responded Knockout. "The reports are confusing but I have a working theory. I think that Dreadwing is suffering the effects of losing a spark bond."

"There is nothing to indicate that he has taken a bonded recently," he said with a look of contemplation.

"True, my lord, but I have seen something very similar to this before. When I was in my later stellarcycles at the academy I was required to do research. The mech I was under was focused on sequencing the exact coding and spark transfers that create spark bonds. There were a variety of subjects, all with different numbers and types of bonds, both current and broken. The damage to the spark chambers of those who had lost a bonded and the reaction they described at the time of severance is consistent with his reaction."

"Noted, but I am still in doubt that he had bonded with somebot aboard the Nemesis."

"I do not believe it is a recent bonding, my lord. In our studies we found that the level of pain experienced correlated with the length of the established bond. For him to experience such a level of pain this bond must be extremely old. Maybe he was bonded before to a bot we are unaware of?"

"I will have Soundwave investigate. For now, what can be done for him?"

"The experience is just as much mental as it is physical. If I release him from stasis his processor will revert his coding state back to reflect that which it was before stasis. Unfortunately, all we can do is allow him to endure it. Once he accepts it and his spark restores itself, he will recover. I would suggest he be anchored to a med table to prevent him from further damaging himself and if he can be made to still enough I can set up an energon drip with pain meds and a light sedative that should reduce the pain."

"Do what you must. When can I expect him back online?"

"It is hard to tell. At least a full solarcycle and maybe more to recover. Losing a bonded…it is not easy, my lord."

Lord Megatron gave him a considering look before, "Why was your reaction less severe than his?"

Knockout took a moment to collect himself as he knew despite his lord's superb ability to frequently be a cold and sparkless bastard that that was not his intention in this moment. That did not mean it was any easier or less painful to talk about Breakdown's offlinement, it never will be. "Our bond may not have been established as early as his. It was relatively young, only one vorn old, but I also believe it is because Dreadwing had already lost a bonded before, Skyquake. Additional breaks cause more pain because the spark never fully recovers after a spark bond is broken. There is a piece of you missing…forever. Spark twins are hard to come by and even less understood, but it is apparent that he has damage to his casing and the spark itself from that break."

"Let me know when he has recovered enough to explain himself."

"Yes, Lord Megatron." When his leader finally left, Knockout went about collecting different items he would need. The pain reducers and energon drip were already on servo, but he didn't have any bonds strong enough to hold the flier through all his thrashing. He doubted whether Dreadwing would still enough for him to set up the drip so the medic was going to have to shut down the rotary cables in his shoulder joint to prevent movement. It wasn't all that hard to do, just attach a cable and find the right splices of code to suppress for the time being.

When that was done he had nothing left to do but get something to hold him down. / I need two drones to the med bay. And bring some energon straps. /

/ Right away Officer Knockout. /

Two vehicons showed up at the med bay entrance not a cycle later. "Secure him." When they moved to do so he had another thought, "Wait. Turn him over. I don't want him damaging his wings any further."

Now lying on his abdominal plates instead they placed the energon straps across his thrusters, knee joints, lower backplates, his shoulders, and finally his wrists. There was nothing more they could do to hinder his movement as shutting off his systems entirely would prolong his healing process. This would have to do. He inserted the drip syringe into an energon line in his immobile left arm and began the procedures to bring him out of stasis. When Knockout was sure everything was correct and he witnessed the first twitch, he ushered the vehicons out alongside himself and waited for the inevitable.

It didn't take long for the screams to begin. They rattled off the walls and resonated down the corridor. Even bound they could hear the awful grinding that was the flier's plating against the metal table. Everybot who passed by stared momentarily at the doors to the medical bay before they rushed off to anyplace that was not there. After awhile only the drones on patrol would go anywhere near that part of the ship and only because they were forced to.

No other wanted to hear that sound. It wasn't an annoyance, it wasn't that they wanted quiet, it was because that sound was one of grief. It stirred within all of them a feeling of pain, loss, and hopelessness. Never before had they been so mercilessly reminded of how much they had all lost in this war. Never before had they all wished it were over, to whatever outcome, if only they could all go home.

Megatron allowed them a solarcycle to themselves if only to escape to their quarters, escape that awful noise, that seemingly endless noise. Megacycles passed, each one ticked off by every member of the crew in the hopes that it would be the last. Finally, sometime in the middle of the human night, there came a reprieve. It was a blessing to most for the noise was gone and they could do their best to forget all the thoughts that had been so eagerly drug up in the past megacycles.

For Knockout though, there was no break, no comfort. He had to endure every thought of Breakdown, relive every moment of that accursed solarcycle in which he had screamed and longed for so much more. He had gone to check on Dreadwing often, unable to escape as every other had. When he entered the med bay now he realized that it was not over, in fact, the poor seeker's vocalizer had just shorted out from overuse. Still he twitched and shuddered. Still his faceplates were contorted in agony. Energon smeared the med table and dripped onto the floor where he had rubbed his plating away. The medic did the only thing he could, he cleaned the wounds to the best of his ability and administered more pain killers, before he walked away.

Two more megacycles passed before Knockout went to check on him and he no longer thrashed. The pain was gone, he looked…defeated. In some ways that look was worse than all the screams that had preceded it. The CMO didn't want to see him, didn't want to lay his optics on that sight, but he had to, he had to do his job and help his patient. He moved closer and Dreadwing's own optics flicked to him. They were hallow, blank, empty of everything. There was nothing left but the want to forget it all and Knockout knew that look for he had sported it himself.

Neither said anything as Knockout went about releasing the bonds and beginning his repairs. He re-cleaned the wounds so that the seeker's auto-repair could work more quickly to replace the worn plating, and to prevent any of the spilt energon from accidently catching fire as some of his joints were now sparking from the constant grinding he had subjected them to. He injected anesthetic nanites into the crumpled wing and began straitening it once all of the sensor clusters had been dampened. He worked laboriously to fix the physical damage to his SIC, all the while, Dreadwing simply laid there, and the medic knew the things that pained the seeker most could not be fixed with medical tools.

"Dreadwing, I am finished. You may sit now if you wish." There was no response not that he expected one. "I have left you two cubes of medical grade whenever you feel the need." Without more to say, Knockout simply left him alone knowing that was what he wanted anyways.

It was much easier to forget his own pain when he left the med bay especially since there was no more screaming to constantly remind him of his loss, and already he began to feel more like himself. His pedes moved briskly as they carried him toward the bridge and when he finally arrived his mood had leveled off. He flowed onto the command deck in all his shiny glory and presented the medical log to his lord for consideration. Megatron gave him a once over before taking the data pad from him with a shake of his helm. "No permanent physical damage. How about mental?"

"To early to tell, my liege. He is unresponsive to communication right now but he will probably come around in a few solarcycles."

"Very well. Soundwave has been unable to find any evidence of a bonded partner so we will question him at such a time. Right now I want you to prepare the med bay for a cortical psychic patch." Megatron turned to dismiss him but he made a small noise low in his intake to indicate that he had something else to say and the warlord fixed him with a sinister gaze that clearly said 'get on with it.'

"Uh…my lord. I believe we should wait a few solarcycles before we perform the patch."

"And why would that be?"

"It's just that Dreadwing is still in the med bay and given his condition anything could set him off. It is best to leave him alone right now."

"I have no time to wait around for him to get over this matter. Prepare…" but he stopped to consider Soundwave, who had turned to him as silently as ever. There was an exchange, or so he assumed, before Megatron's gaze fell on him again. He looked as though he had lost patience with the entire situation and was about to rip somebot's helm off at any moment. Knockout was trying to covertly distance himself when Megatron smirked at him. "As you wish doctor," and he did not miss the sarcasm in that statement, "but Knockout. If I were you I would do my best to expedite his recovery as my patience wears thin, and I have no problem returning you to your previous status as the resident Decepticon wall ornament."

"Aha…yes, my liege. I shall do that," he drawled out in a slight panic. Hurrying before Megatron could change his mind, the medic slipped off the bridge heaving a sigh of relief out his vents and relaxing instantly when he was out of the warlord's line of sight.

The only thing left for him to do now was check on Starscream, who was currently confined to quarters per Megatron's orders. Dreadwing's unexpected problem had come about the same night in which Starscream had returned to them so Megatron was forced to delay the patch and his decision about the former SIC's restoration as a Decepticon officer. The closer he got to the door the more he realized that he was actually a little glad to see Starscream if not only for the company. It had been lonely on the Nemesis as of late, the only officers left were dull, creepy, and/or silent so conversation was definitely lacking.

When he entered the room though, he was not expecting to have a cube of energon chucked at his helm, which he only barely managed to avoid. "Hey, watch the paint."

"Oh, it's you."

"Who were you expecting?" he said sarcastically as he cocked out his hip.

"Oh, I don't know, somebot of importance," he replied, his screechy vocalizer laced with an edge that said he was being deliberately condescending.

"Ouch. That one hurt."

"Knockout, why am I being confined to this sad excuse of a room?"

"Well the luxurious quarters you so desire are reserved for…bots of importance." The seeker blustered at that, wings flicking to their highest positions denoting the seeker's indignation while Knockout could only laugh. When Starscream still couldn't retort he chuckled a bit more before continuing, "Something has happened and Lord Megatron will be busy for a few solarcycles. When he is no longer otherwise occupied, he will summon for you. I am here to look you over."

"Why would I need to be looked over? We have more serious things to be discussing!" he vented sharply.

Knockout gave him a look that clearly said stop being dramatic. "Starscream, you look like scrap."

The seeker's optics glowed fiery red for a moment, clearly he was somewhat high-strung, before he smirked slowly, "I do, don't I? Well, what are you waiting for?" he said gesturing for Knockout to proceed. "You have no idea Knockout. Living on this mud ball of a planet without access to a wash rack. You would not believe the amount of dirt that came off me when I finally got into the racks. And do you know I had to use the public racks? An officer like me, bathing with the drones. I could not believe Megatron put me in these quarters when they do not…" Knockout turned down his audios and focused on his work. Starscream's customary ranting was actually welcome compared to the silence he had dealt with recently so he occasionally grumbled alongside the other or replied with short answers of agreement and happily allowed him to talk.

Cycles upon cycles passed as he checked along the other's plating, circuitry, tubes, and joints. There were missing pieces everywhere and the amount of scratches he had managed to acquire not only on the outside but along his internals as well was impressive. He encased frayed wires, smoothed out roughened plating, and applied nanite gel to any gouges that were too deep for a buffer to remove. The longer he worked the more normal he felt until a question from Starscream brought his processor out of its lulled state and back into the present. "You mentioned something happened earlier?"

"Yes. Dreadwing had a most unusual experience."

"What, did Megatron finally have to reprimand his most loyal SIC?"

"No, it seems he has lost a bonded. Megatron was quite surprised as we were all unaware that he had one."

"Hmm, and let me guess, he is not taking it well?"

"No, he had an intense reaction to the severance. He will be out of commission for the next couple solarcycles."

"Uhh, I never understood the obsessive need to bond with another bot. It weakens a mech, makes them vulnerable. Waste of time in my opinion." Knockout kept quiet because the words hit too close to home and although they should have angered him, they really only saddened him. "Knockout?" He grunted in recognition, refusing to look at the other for he wasn't sure what would be reflected in his optics. "I…I do not think less of you for your choice. Your relationship with Breakdown seemed…true, and you know I thought of him as a brave and loyal soldier." It wasn't an apology, Starscream would never admit to being wrong, but it was satisfactory nonetheless.

"I know." Their optics met very briefly each acknowledging what was left unsaid and then the moment was over. "Anyways, Megatron is dealing with some fallout from that and then he will address you I suppose. I never really know what he is thinking."

"Fine, fine. Well then, I am going to have some energon, and for the good doctor?"

"No thanks. I've got a few drones waiting for me in the med bay." It was a lie and they probably both knew it, but it was going to stand because his berth was calling and nothing could stop him from hitting it faceplates first in the next five cycles. This solarcycle, he was glad, was finally over.

Poor Dreadwing. I love him so much and yet this is what I do to him. So this story will focus on him, but surprisingly enough, Knockout has started to become prominent in it as well. I meant for this to be longer but I have had this written for forever and the second part is much trickier to write aka. taking forever. I decided to just go ahead, split it into two chapters, and update for you guys since its already been 6 months (seriously wtf?).