Title: Error Operator
Chapter: 6/?
Rating: Teen
Warning: Slash, mentions of sex, House, AU, and cursing here and there.
Fandom: Transformers Movie'Verse and House.
Pairing: Many, many pairings. So far shown, Sam/Bee, Ratchet/Cuddy, HouseWilson, and Cameron/Chase.
Summary: Sam's been sick for awhile now, but when he collapses, military officials suggest that he go to a specialist hospital. Bringing those doctors back might have been one of the best ideas they've ever had.
Notes: Fuck everything. -dead-
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Foreman wasn't sure what to make of the young man sitting in front of him, wolfing down a bowl of rice and chicken. He'd been introduced to Miles by Optimus, who was nearby, watching them while he read through some report or another.
The doctor wasn't surprised by the protectiveness that the Autobot leader showed, and it was simple to see the natural, easy, connection between them.
"So how long have you known about... all of this." Foreman picked up the coffee he'd nearly forgotten about and took a sip.
"Since about the beginning. When 'Bee found Sam, my bro' called me, freaking out. He thought that the poor mech was a possessed car, or something." Miles glared when Optimus snorted and looked over his file at them.
"I believe the exact term was 'Satan's Camaro', was it not?"
"Yeah. I was giving Mason a bath when he called. I thought the dude had gotten punked or some shit, you know? But when I went over a few days later, the place was swarming with suits, and I was just, like, holy fuck."
"Uh... huh." Nodding and staring at the teen, Foreman raised an eyebrow. It was like talking to one of the teens from his own generation, or a hippie. Miles was entirely too excited while he spoke, still eating at a pace that all but invited choking.
"Seriously! I went to get a little closer, and the next thing I know, they're yelling at me, asking me what I was doing, so I took off." He grinned and jerked a thumb at Optimus.
"I ran into him with my skateboard, literally, it was epic awesome."
"It was not 'epic awesome' at all. My body is not meant for a human to hit while going thirty-one miles per hour. You are lucky you were not seriously hurt, using that death trap to travel."
"My skateboard is not a death trap. It's beautiful, and awesome, and perfection incarnate. Besides, at least it ain't a motorcycle... yet."
"If you would allow Frenzy to..."
"No way! You're not having one of them watch me again! Ravage is evil, he steals my junk food, and replaces it with gross ass, weird ass, fruits that I've never even heard of. They look like something out of a comic, which, alright, awesome. But the one looked like a tentacle rape plant!"
Foreman burst out laughing, the sight of Miles pointing a fork at the Cybertronian leader, as if to stab the mech, while Optimus calmly watched him. The face mask he wore hide his expression, but it was obvious that he was amused.
The hilarity of the situation didn't last, his pager went off at about the same time as he saw Optimus cock his head.
"Sam?" Miles dumped his dish in the sink near them, suddenly serious. It was strange, but somehow it still fit the strange man. He wasn't expecting the mech next to them to bend down and offer his hand, either.
"Thanks, big guy."
Foreman hesitated, but finally climbed up with the teen, giving his own thanks as they were lifted up, much higher then he was used to. He shuddered, gripping blue hands until his own knuckles went pale, and watched Miles bob along, completely at ease.
"Oh god, if this keeps up, I'll be dead from a heart attack in no time."
"Nah. You get used to things."
"Really?" The doctor wasn't sure if he liked the sound of that, really... it was bad enough that he was used to House's quirks.
"Yeah. But don't worry, it's all good."
"...Sure it is..." He shuddered again and looked at the moving ground, before focusing on playing with his beeper until they reached their destination. Maybe House's quirks weren't so bad... maybe.
As his stomach heaved for the fifth time that day, Sam whimpered. By that point, he didn't even mind the arms holding him up, and thus keeping him grounded. He just wasn't completely conscious any more, drifting in and out of a state of dozing.
The human winced as the bandages were pulled from his arm, the dark burns still bleeding in some places, where they'd seemed to have grown. In other spots, they were completely healed, inky black symbols that had sharpened even more into what looked like tattoos.
He was sure that it wasn't normal, as if any part of the entire situation could ever even seem to be normal.
Sam whimpered again, he let soothing words and touches wash over him, though it didn't help the way his head started to throb, the same symbols on his arm seemingly etched into the back of his eye lids. On impulse he grabbed at the nearest body, not quite seeing or thinking as he stole the pen and clipboard the man possessed.
Symbols flowed from his head to his hand, and then finally onto the paper, letters and numbers that weren't of his own mother-language. Part of him understood the chicken scratched drawings that covered the first page of test results and information on his health, the other part was too tired to care.
None of that even meant anything as he went to a second page and continued, gripping the pen as if it was his only life line.
Medics were trained to heal, not fight. They were made for healing, it needed a special type of spark, kind of like the way Seeker sparks needed a Seeker frame. Though, without that frame problem.
The medics trained during times of war were the same, they were healers.
Most of them also had a temper, and took no slag. Others... not so much.
"Stop moving, for Primus' sakes!" Glit tapped his fingers against the berth his patient sat on and sighed, before reaching out to continue his work. Only the fact that Megatron was at least being 'good' kept him from just knocking the mech out.
That, and Prowl's warning that where there was one creepily zombified, as Mikeala would call it, Seeker trine, there might be others. They didn't have the fire power to hold of any large scale attack, even with the Lord High Protector on board.
Even if Megatron didn't seem to quite care.
"You have minor injuries, but I suggest we head back to... Earth. Reflector wasn't so lucky, they need more than a few patches." The feline Dinobot finished the welding that needed to be done, and stepped back, to his other patient.
"Will they be online soon?" Megatron questioned while he stood from the berth and flexed his wings.
"As soon as I can get their systems out of the self induced stasis, sure. Who knows how long they were stuck on that rock." Glit scowled and checked the three separate energon feeds that were helping stabilize the spy trio. He wasn't surprised that Reflector was in the state they were, not at all.
He was more shocked that Megatron's crash landing at the hands of the Seekers had led the mech to literally fall right next to the smaller three forms, laying curled and in stasis in a cave system.
The rest of the battle had been relatively short, null-ray marks on purple and green armor all Megatron needed to know that there was no misunderstanding. The Skyraiders had gone completely rogue, and were attacking anything in sight.
It enraged the Lord High Protector, and an enraged Megatron was one one to mess around with.
"Send me the report, and soon. We'll be turning back as soon as we reach NC-17, the Autobots had a small stronghold there according to Prowl. If nothing else there should be a few supplies we can use stored in the lower levels."
Glit nodded and started cleaning his tools, one optic watching the mech leave. Things didn't bode well, for their ship, or any of the Cybertronians inside, and he really didn't like it. The Dinobot liked it even less when they landed.
He'd been to a similar outpost as a Neutral before joining the Decepticons, it was purely Autobot, if the bright orange walls were anything to go by.
Or rather, what had once been bright orange walls.
Paint and decay rocked the small stronghold, hiding some of the signs that battle would have left, but not all of them. Certainly not the laser burns or smoke stains. The strangest thing was the lack of Decepticon style weapons, null rays, fusion cannons, and the like. Marks told of Autobots fighting, but not who, or what otherwise.
Glit padded over the rubble silently, senses run amok with the smells of dried, aged, energon.
It was both alluring, and disgusting.
He found a area that was completely destroyed, a lift, or stairwell that must have lead into the level below. The smell grew stronger as he looked down, keen optics spotting snatches of bright colored paint among the rubble.
"I found one..." He spoke over the comm link before he leaped down, into the darkness.
The husk of the dead Cybertronian wasn't alone, it, along with others, left him sighing sadly. He didn't like death, and especially not of the type that he was seeing before him. Glit just hadn't been made for war, or the casualties of it, and even if it was over...
The casualties were astronomical.
Prowl appeared above him, headlights shining into the darkness, and illuminating the corpses at Glit's paws.
"Megatron says his troops never even knew this was here, and Soundwave was able to check his back logs..." The tactician said, climbing down, and then kneeling in front of them.
"These wounds aren't the style of a Decepticon, anyway," Glit responded and pointed to a long, thin, gash that stretched across the back of one of them.
"This was made to cause maximum pain, and... Decepticons don't do that, they just get the job done as quickly and as easily as possible. Such wounds were for capture, but then it's as if the person changed their mind."
Prowl looked at him, door wings flinching back in the slightest of movements. The Dinobot caught it and jumped aside before the first shots fired hit where he'd just been standing. At the same time Prowl pulled his laser pistol from subspace and fired back, filling the hall with noise.
Neither could see the attacker, and any yells for a designation where met with no response.
It was the Skyraiders all over again.
Snarling, Glit ran from his position, agile frame dodging each shot fired his way. As his fangs ripped into metal armor, spilling energon from the still fighting form, the medic felt something hard and heavy hit him. His jaws were wrenched free, form rolling away from what ever was used to dent his hip plating.
The mech stared blankly at Glit, and then lifting his gun, opened fire a second time.
Blackout sat at his desk space silently, the data pads laid out in front of him taking all of his attention. They didn't have a code breaker, or anyone that could possibly know the old, unused form of Cybertronian that Sam wrote in.
At least, that was what was first assumed. The medic, upon being showed the enlarged symbols, recognized them almost immediately.
The Code of Symbionts.
He could see the Code in the symbols, even though it had been ages since he'd first seen the binding contracts that were signed between symbionts. He wished Soundwave was with them, or even Blaster, any other person that could back him up. Not because he thought that Ratchet wouldn't believe him, but because Blackout himself couldn't bear it if he was wrong.
Black fingers ran down his back plating where Scorponok was curled in recharge against him. The processor of the other was a steady connection that he used often, like an anchor and shield.
He put his head in his hands, hiding the data pads from view, as if hiding from them could make them go away.
None of the humans were going to be happy with what he was going to have to say if his hunch was correct.
Symbionts weren't always Master and Servant. There were many grades, and many platforms that had could be had. Blackout had seen a pair once, with no clues to be held that showed they were symbiotic, until one was killed in battle, and the other followed a joor later, broken.
The biggest problem was that... only the Allspark could have written the Code with such perfection. Sam had either channeled the Allspark, or, as Blackout suspected, had been just ithat/i close to the Well. It made the medic shudder, knowing how close the human had been to losing his just gained spark.
His other hunch needed a second set of symbionts to be confirmed in, anyway.
They needed Soundwave back, along with his telepathic abilities.