X - Hurt
"Hello, Knock Out." I crooned, leaning over his faceplates.
"Ugh, please tell me this is just a dream." The red medic groaned, shuttering his optics and tried to squirm away.
"On the contrary," Seven piped up and Knock Out jerked upright, optics onlining at full charge.
"WHAT?!"
"I guess it's a nightmare." Jack smirked.
He looked around at each of us standing over him, his gaze lingering on Ratchet in the corner for a moment. "I-but–you…" he tried to get up, but the cuffs over his wrists inhibited his attempt.
"I wouldn't." Arcee growled, looking ready to transform out one of her blades. Knock Out glared at the cuffs, tugging on them. Then he noticed the long, thin, white scratch over his chest plate.
"You didn't!" He squealed.
"Guilty." I sneered, not feeling sorry in the least.
"Please, it's merely a paint scratch!" Ratchet huffed, glancing up from Bulkhead's side.
"I deserve far better after what I did for you!" The red mech snapped, earning a few confused looks. "Oh? So, doctor, did you tell them that you just came skipping off the Nemesis and into the sunset?"
"Knock Out, I do not understand." Even Optimus sounded puzzled.
"Pardon my indiscretion," I interjected.
"Everything you say is an indiscretion." The red medic muttered.
I cleared my throat loudly, shooting him a glare, "but why should we believe anything you say? You just decide to drop in out of nowhere and think you can–"
"He saved my life." Ratchet said, looking up from Bulkhead with optics that told me he was dead serious.
"Finally, giving credit where it's due!" Knock Out exclaimed, putting on a smug smirk. Everyone was speechless, including myself and the children. Ratchet, having already known that, spoke up.
"I'll speak first," Ratchet finally said, "seeing that no one is arguing."
"No one wants a wrench stuck in their audial." Arcee pointed out, but her tone was missing the usual sarcasm.
The white mech smirked like he was considering it, "You wouldn't be able to hear what I have to say if I did."
"Spit it out." Seven snapped.
"You younger bots are so impatient…" Ratchet huffed.
"Please, deliver your speech, O wise and mighty Ratchet." My clone bowed with a level of sarcasm could've split rocks.
"Please, old friend." Optimus prodded.
The medic rolled his optics, "I still hardly believe this myself, but Soundwave took me captive aboard Megatron's warship after obtaining the resonance blaster. And without the young doctor here, I would have already been subjected to the tyrant's sick torture experiments."
"Knock Out, it seems we are indebted." Optimus stated solemnly, facing the other red mech.
"Why? Why did you help him?" Arcee asked, her tone more than threatening.
"I certainly wasn't planning on tagging along, that's for sure!" The red medic glared at the white one.
"Oh, quit whining." I rolled my optics.
"That's a first, coming from you!"
"Knock Out," the Prime rumbled, "if you do not answer our questions, we will have to use less pleasant means of extracting information."
The red mech huffed, "Starscream, Seven, were they as welcoming when you strutted over their threshold?"
"'Dragged over is better suited," my clone muttered.
"No one's making you stay." Arcee reminded cooly.
"Starscream, Seven? A moment, if you will?" Ratchet requested from the corner of the room.
"Just when it gets good." I muttered, trailing behind Seven. I could feel Knock Out's optics on my back as I walked away, and the conversation continued as if nothing had happened. Well, more of an interrogation, to be precise.
"What's up, doc?" Seven asked, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
I tried to inch away, back towards the other mechs and femme, but Ratchet glanced up and caught me. "Stay put. I am going to run a diagnostic of your systems, monitoring the virus' progress and so forth."
"What about Bulk–" My optics fell on the green mech. His chest plate looked as good as new, save for a bit of dust here and there. "That was fast." I remarked, impressed.
"The damage looked severe, but was a snap to repair." the medic explained.
"Just as long as everything's ticking under my hood," Bulkhead sat up only to have Ratchet push him back down.
"Some things, however, cannot be sped up." Ratchet stated. "Like allowing your chassis to rest so you don't strain yourself."
"C'mon, I'm missing the action!" The green mech protested.
"Likewise," I grumbled, and I saw Seven shared the same thoughts.
"An interrogation is hardly action." Ratchet countered, motioning for me to sit down opposite the medical berth Bulkhead laid on. I sat, grumbling nonsense beneath my vocalizer.
"Then why, pray tell, am I here?" Seven asked.
"Because neither of you are helping them and your presence would be counterproductive, being ex-Decepticons yourselves." he replied matter-of-factly.
"I never was, mind you. That would be Starscream." My clone reminded him, rolling his optics.
"Nonetheless, your similarities to Starscream give the same effect." The medic ran a handheld scanner over my midsection and up my chest plating.
"Does Megatron know where our base is?" Arcee snarled at Knock Out from the other side of the room, "Did he send you to scope out our location?"
"I already told you: I rescued your precious medic! Without my help, he would have been–"
"So I've been told." She replied hotly, and I turned my attention back to Ratchet as the scanner let out a harsh beep. He shut it off with a resigned sigh.
"How had I not foreseen this?" The white and orange medic moaned quietly to himself, as if expecting me not to hear.
"Foreseen what, exactly?" I whimpered, my tone already taking on an anxious edge. Seven ruffled his wings next to me, looking worried as well.
"As the virus spreads, and it has, it will adversely affect your systems. Fortunately, it hasn't made much headway. I've studied a few earlier samples a bit more closely, and now I can guess at what early symptoms might manifest as." He didn't even wait for a reply before continuing but I was too nervous and shocked to give one. "Minor system malfunctions, such as with core temperature control, glitches with motor functions–"
"Like, glitches with his thruster or engines?" Bulkhead wondered, clearly perplexed. Seven just watched our conversation with an unreadable expression. Considering he was my clone, that was a feat.
Ratchet sighed in mild annoyance and I wanted to. At times such as this, it was clear that the green mech wasn't the brightest bulb. "No, I am referring to his servos." The medic stated.
"'Least the doc's honest." Miko said.
I looked away, "I don't know if I want honesty right now. I've been pretending that this… this virus isn't an issue, but…" I trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence.
"Scream?" Jack asked.
"Don't call me that." I snapped quietly, but wasn't in the mood for pressing it further.
"Right," he apologized somewhat reluctantly, "but you can't put the blame on yourself for the fact that MECH used your T-Cog as the Trojan Horse."
"What?" Seven and I wondered in unison.
"You know," he ran his fingers through his hair, "a myth: the Greeks built a giant wooden horse as a gift to the people of Troy and hid inside of it, then jumped out after dark and conquered the city."
The other two humans nodded in understanding, and I got it too. In fact, it was a good analogy, provided one understood the content, obviously. But that didn't keep me from snapping back just to get him to shut up. "What does any of this have to do with myths and fragging wooden horses?!"
"I just thought… never mind," he wilted.
I wasn't sure when I noticed that the whole room was silent, including the interrogation, only that it had to have been several minutes.
Knock Out was the first to speak, turning to face us the best he could, "Might I ask what that's all about? You're all acting like someone's on their deathbed!" He chuckled, as if that was somehow, in any way, amusing.
Arcee shoved his shoulder plate, enough to get his attention but nothing more. "Show some sensitivity." That was the last thing I expected to hear from her.
"Wait, what? No, don't tell me…" he trailed off, fixing her and I with a light, disbelieving glare. She glared back. I scowled back at him, feeling my optics stinging. The red mech looked as though expecting someone to shout that it was a prank. In reality, the opposite was true; everyone was looking at him, expecting something completely different. I didn't know whether I wanted an apology or for him to simply leave. But the cuffs binding his wrists together made it apparent that he wasn't going anywhere in the near future. The red medic chuckled nervously.
"Knock Out," Ratchet's optics swept over him with blatant disdain, "you, of all bots, should not consider this to be a laughing matter."
"I don't know what you're talking abo–"
Optimus, who had been silent all this time, cut him off. "Knock Out, Starscream is dying."
I winced.
He blinked, "That's absurd!"
"How can you be so dense?" I snapped.
"Any denser and he would be invisible," my clone spat.
"Please! You look fine!" The medic said defensively, shooting him a wry glare.
My tone became deathly quiet, "I imagine you remember MECH and their leader, Silas? As well as what they did to poor Breakdown?"
"How could I forget?" He answered bitterly.
Sated, I continued. "Well, Silas apparently learned a lot from him, and attacked this base with a duplicate Optimus."
"Nemesis Prime!" Miko chimed in, and I nodded.
"Yes, anyway, it clearly was meant for him to lose that battle, in turn to ensure the victory of a much greater one. He put up a fight, but in the end we bested him and took my T-Cog as the prize." I began to speak more rapidly, afraid that if I lost my momentum now, I wouldn't be able to start again. "We thought we had won, but they had implanted a virus in my T-Cog. But we had discovered it too late, and its symptoms are already beginning to affect me." I neglected to mention the fact that he was the one who had salvaged my T-Cog, feeling it would be best not to pile up guilt on anyone, no matter how much I wanted to. And I wanted to. "Ratchet here has been able to glean enough information from a few samples, such as the fact that it isn't contagious, and that it will, in time, terminate me. T-that goes without question."
For once in his function, Knock Out was speechless.
I didn't need to be Starscream's clone to know to give him space. So when he turned and edged further away from us, I pulled my optics off him. Everyone else followed suit except Optimus, who walked over and sat next to him, murmuring words of comfort none of us could hear.
"Silas did leave us with two options, however grim." I finally announced, drawing all the others' attention on me. "The first: allow Starscream to die–" that suddenly brought on a quiet, choked noise from the Seeker and worried, sympathetic glances in his direction. I cleared my throat and continued, "and the second: deliver him to MECH for whatever they intend to do to him. But the upside of the latter, if there is such a thing, is that they would cure him before inflicting whatever sick experiments crawl into their little sadistic minds. Because they would prefer us to be alive to most likely get 'better results.'"
"Well, then why don't you just turn him over and then steal him back?" Knock Out asked, as if we hadn't all thought about that.
"We wouldn't have a chance," Arcee reasoned, "that would be the first thing they anticipate. We'd be playing right into their hands, and they would have a full house."
"I see." The red medic replied. Next to Optimus still and seemingly less distressed, Starscream yawned, wings fluttering as he watched our exchange.
"And," Ratchet added, "if he transforms into his vehicular mode it expedites the process."
"That can't get any darker, and it's night." Jack noted. Miko punctuated his words with a yawn, and Raf looked a bit tired as well. Starscream shifted next to Optimus on the edge of my vision and then the Prime gently rose to his pedes, holding the Seeker in his arms like a rag doll.
"Autobots, it is late. Bumblebee, please escort our guest to a cell. Arcee, Bulkhead, please take the children home. After that, go get some recharge." Optimus ordered, but it sounded more like a suggestion. He only received worried and startled looks back. The Prime looked down at Starscream, "He is fine, I surmise that the emotional strain and the hour of night have induced his recharge sequence." Relieved, everyone began to disperse for each of their tasks, save for the Prime and I.
"Seven." He nodded gently at me, his optics lingering for a moment. With Starscream still in his arms, he plodded away, presumably to let the Seeker rest and then go catch some recharge himself. It was tender, like my double was a sweet little sparkling that needed taking care of.
I watched him go, wondering if the next time a bot would hold him like that would be his last.
Some internal alarm went off, snapping me out of a dazed stupor. I squirmed, the cuffs that had almost become familiar over my wrists and ankles chafing into my armor. A few small points of data displayed in the corner of my vision showed that my core temperature read well over what it should have been, and I was shivering. Small spikes of pain wracked my frame with each spasm.
"Good, Starscream, you're awake." Silas said, scrutinizing me. "You've certainly seen better days. I thought some part of your processor had been damaged when we transported you here."
I bit my glossa, refusing to dignify his insult with a retort.
"You!" Silas pointed at a random soldier, "Go fetch me the cure, we don't want the subject dead yet." The subject. Oh, the nerve!
"You can't do this." I snarled, straining against my bonds, ignoring the pain in my wrists and ankles. "You can't! Stop! STOP!" I screeched, my voice changing from defiant to hysterical.
"Ah, but we can. And who is going to stop us? You certainly are in no shape to do so." Infuriatingly, he was right. I sagged back against the berth. I wasn't even sure what I would do if I got free; I was so weak I could barely lift my helm. Something sharp and tiny stabbed into my right arm.
"Cure administered." A soldier announced. I didn't feel any different, I still was shivering and my temperature soared. My fingers shook, which somehow didn't surprise me. Ratchet said that there would be glitches with my motor functions.
Silas nodded and turned to face me again, folding his hands behind his back, "Thank you in advance for your sacrifice to further our sciences, your contribution will help make great leaps and bounds for all of MECH and its technology. But I understand that you need time to recuperate, a time I am willing to wait patiently for. Until then, you will remain here, under constant surveillance."
"Why so eager to spill your guts to me now, when I can personally do it for you later?" I spat weakly.
"Did I forget to mention that insolence will not be tolerated?" MECH's leader stated calmly, and motioned at a soldier out of my line of sight. I was greeted with the sound of a pulse gun powering up, and then got the opportunity to experience the lovely sensation of being electrocuted for the second time.
I jerked awake, my screams from the phantom pain bringing everyone in the base running. A small part of me felt grateful that they cared and appreciated the support, but the rest just wanted them to leave.
Bumblebee burst into my room first, which bore as much resemblance to a room as the moon did the sun. Despite being more or less accepted by the Autobots, it still felt, and looked, like a cell. There were no windows, only a dim, unreliable light bulb in the ceiling, a berth that was a few feet too short and clearly not made for one with wings, and a gritty, concrete floor. When Ratchet had first shown me my quarters, I had demanded that they were to be cleaned. He gave me a withering look, left, and came back a minute later with a mop. That was my first lesson of being an Autobot: everyone pitched in, especially with the dirty work.
[What's wrong? Are you alright?] Bumblebee asked worriedly, pulling me off my train of thought. The other bots and femme followed short behind him, with Seven bringing up the rear.
"I suppose so," I sighed, scuffing a pede and ruffling my wings that were so close and yet so far.
"It was just a nightmare!" Starscream insisted, slamming his energon cube down and his wings flared up in frustration. "How many times must I repeat myself to get it through your thick helms?!"
"Enough is enough." I agreed, ruffling my wings.
"Ratchet, how's it coming?" Arcee asked, referring to the cure the medic supposedly was working on.
"Coming and going, the virus is complex." He reported from a workstation cluttered with papers and equipment. "Every time I think I've made progress, the virus mutates!" Starscream's fingers twitched and his wings sank at the news.
Optimus laid a servo on my double's shoulder plate, a habit he couldn't seem to shake. "Starscream, we will not rest until Ratchet finds a cure."
"Oh, we haven't heard that one before." He replied sarcastically, pulling away and took a long drink from his cube in an obvious attempt to stall the conversation. The Prime's servo fell to his side.
"What if we enlisted Knock Out's help?" Arcee offered.
Ratchet snorted, making his disapproval clear. "The young doctor is hardly equipped to handle such a task, and even if he was, he's a Decepticon!" He exclaimed, looking up from his workstation to meet the Prime's optics, "And I don't care what you call him, he's still our prisoner! Besides, why would he want to help?"
Starscream and I exchanged a look.
"If you don't think him up to the task," my double explained slowly, "then make him your servant, if nothing else."
"I don't need to be a genius to know that his help could make this go twice as fast." Bulkhead added.
"He has a point there." Arcee reasoned. Bumblebee chirped in agreement.
But the final decision fell on Optimus' shoulders. "I see no harm in allowing the young doctor to work with you, old friend." The red mech smiled at the medic, who wasn't exactly smiling back. "However, we will keep him under constant watch."
"Lock and key would be nice as well," the medic grudgingly agreed.
Knock Out rushed to the bars of the cell, rattling them as I walked closer. "Starscream? What are you do–" he saw the red stripes on my wings and corrected himself. "Seven, let me out of here and I'll fix those horrendous stripes to something much more attractive!"
I ignored his remark. "If memory serves, in a similar situation, you once allowed me to escape, correct?"
"Equal yet opposite," he agreed.
I filled him on the points of our earlier discussion, saying that we had decided on enlisting his help.
"And in return?" He asked expectantly.
"Those cuffs might not become permanent." I answered, pointing at them. "And Starscream's chances double."
"I'm in."
"Congratulations," I smirked, "you're on parole." The lock on his cell's door clicked.
A/N: Seven deserves a round of applause for his nerd joke. Because all nerd jokes shall reign supreme.