A/N Just saying, before any of you make any comments about how Transformers don't cry, sweat, breathe, etc., I KNOW DAT ALREADY! D: JUST LET ME WRITE THIS STORY!
Ratchet pulled away, having changed the symbol on Smokescreen's shoulder back to Autobot. He set to work on the chest wound. Ratchet paused, confused. Looking inside at his internal workings, it looked like circuits had snapped, but had been sewn back together.
Surely Smokescreen couldn't have done it himself, but the Decepticon medic Knockout was unlikely to fix it either. Bulkhead scratched the back of his neck.
"So, uh…what happened on your end while you were gone?" He asked.
Bulkhead realized his mistake as Smokescreen's face twisted into the saddest and most horrified face you can imagine times 100. Smokescreen started struggling and fighting like mad on the bed, as if he was trying to fight an invisible enemy only he could see.
"Whoa, boy!" Ratchet tried to settle him.
Smokescreen, however, had gone wild. He looked like he was fighting…something.
Then he stopped.
He grabbed at his torso, where the wounds were, puffing, sounding vaguely like a train, his forehead wet with sweat. "He's re-living whatever happened…" Bulkhead observed.
Ratchet tried to get Smokescreen to relax. In the end he had to activate the restraints. Circular beams of solid light shot out and held his wrists and ankles down.
Smokescreen almost fainted right there. Once again under restraints. Again… Memories flooded him, his one working eye dim. Restraints…they were the things he was under for days, which left him helpless to protect himself. It hurt to remember.
Smokescreen clenched his teeth, staring up at the ceiling, his eye shiny with tears. His breath quivered. Then he squeezed his eye shut and cried, not making a noise. Energon tears slid down his face, even from the damaged eye.
It pained them all to see him as he was, even though they couldn't really understand why he was crying.
Ratchet, feeling uncertain, looked away. A couple more Autobots also looked away.
They could hear faint, quiet sobs coming from Smokescreen. His breath was quavering, it was audible.
In the end Optimus went over to Smokescreen and knelt down next to him.
"Smokescreen, you are with us now. Whatever memories you've had with the Decepticons, wipe them away. You're safe now." The Prime said gently.
Smokescreen turned his head to look at Optimus Prime, tears still flowing. He wanted to say something, to say something back to the Prime, to reassure Optimus and himself that he was okay, but he knew in doing so, he would really cry. So he did nothing but sit there and swallow the lump in his throat as Optimus knelt beside him and Ratchet checked his health.
Ratchet also took off the restraints, much to Smokescreen's relief. Ratchet didn't, however, fix Smokescreen's eye. He didn't have the high precision tools needed. He also needed more information on fixing an optic. He'd never really bothered to learn.
The humans went home, the other Autobots went minding their own business, and Smokescreen was soon fully recharged. He got up, but he seemed to have lost that eagerness he had only a week ago. He tried, but whenever he smiled…his mouth was smiling, but he didn't seem to be into it, and his eyes didn't smile at all, hollow and emotionless. There was one last thing that needed to be done; to find out what happened during the week Smokescreen was gone.
A/N This might be a bit confusing to some of you. My writing style is strange. Feel free to ask questions as you wish, I'll be sure to answer them as soon as possible.
Oh yeah? One last thing-
THE HECK WITH JUST ONE CHAPTER EVERY DAY, I'LL GET ALL THE FINISHED ONES UP TODAY!
HECK YEAH!