His spark.
A dull, empty void.
Is he even alive?
Is it all a dream?
What if he is still back there...
He grips around the base of his right wing and adds pressure until the metal starts to buckle.
The pain is a welcome feeling.
Anything to drive away the emptiness in his spark.
It intensifies as his wing, complete with wing-hinge and base structure, is torn from his frame, and it is pure bliss. The final wires pop, and only a dull ache remains.
Not enough.
He discards the amputated limb and turns to his left wing.
Before he completely can rip it out of his frame, something slams into him, and he tumbles to the ground. With a scream, he lashes out at the attacker.
Kill or be killed.
They roll around, and he is about to get the upper hand when he gets forced away from his adversary. His frame goes numb the next moment, and everything around him is a blur.
"No!" He yells, tears forming in his optics. "Spare me. I will be good. I will do as you say."
Someone plugs into his systems, and he fights against the intruder as his stasis protocols are activated.
Fear grips his spark when he regains consciousness.
"Skywarp, can you hear me?"
Where is he?
Where have they taken him?
"He is not responding."
What are they going to do to him?
When his stasis protocols are activated again, he doesn't have the energy to fight it.
Gentle hands.
Soft murmuring voices.
It's like waking from a nightmare.
Blipping sounds of machinery.
The smell of clinical detergent.
He tries to turn around in the berth, but, to his horror, he finds himself fixated on his front.
Fear grips his spark anew, and an alert goes off.
"Don't try to move, Skywarp."
A hand grips his reassuringly, and he clings to it desperately.
"You are fixated to prevent the jostling of the delicate equipment holding your wings in place as they heal."
He starts to cry.
What has he done?
Everything is a blur.
"You have been here for a week, and you need to stay like this for another before we can try to remove the supportive structures connecting your wings to your spinal strut."
Will he ever be able to fly again?
"I'll let Echo know that you have woken up. It will only take a moment, okay?"
The reassuring hand leaves, and he is at the mercy of his chaotic thoughts.
"I have someone with me today, Skywarp. Is it okay if he joins us?" Echo asks.
"Whatever," Skywarp answers indifferently.
His wings aren't healing as they should, and the longer it takes, the greater the risk that he will never get to fly again.
What is a seeker without the ability to fly?
He might as well still be back at the arena.
The door into the ICU opens and he frowns at the sound of hesitant steps entering.
"Take the time you need," He hears Echo say, and his frown deepens.
Unable to see who the psychologist is talking to, his wings start to twitch, or rather they would have if they could. Inwardly he curses his situation.
He listens to Echo and the hesitant footsteps that slowly come closer with a growing ire.
"Are you disabled or what?!" He growls menacingly when he has reached his limit of patience, and silence suddenly fills the room.
Echo is holding her breath, waiting anxiously to see how Thundercracker reacts to Skywarp's outburst. It is the blue seeker's first direct interaction with a sire belonging to his frame type, and that it starts with hostility from Skywarp can quickly end the interaction.
Thundercracker looks at the floor as anxiety begins to fill him and uses the coping strategies he has been taught to control it. Focusing on a tile, he breathes in slowly and lets the air out in one even blow.
Breathe in, breathe out.
When he has regained his composure, he lifts his gaze and meets Echo's optics before he turns his attention to the medical berth and the grotesque sight of the black and purple seeker's suspended wings. Titanium bars stick out of Skywarp's back, fastening his wings to his spinal strut with large adjustable screws. The wing-hinges and the rest of the wing structure are pierced through by more delicate-looking equipment that fixates them in the correct position to heal.
A feeling stirs in his spark and he moves closer to the berth.
Skywarp cannot see him, his head in a recess in the berth to keep his back straight, and Thundercracker gets a closer look at the extent of the damage.
The feeling stirs again, and he sits down in the chair beside the berth, sadness in his optics.
What kind of trauma can make a seeker do this to himself?
His spark overflows with a strong feeling of sympathy and he reaches hesitantly for Skywarp's hand, uncertain about the other seeker's reaction to his offer of comfort.
Meanwhile, Skywarp stares fixated on Thundercracker's light blue thrusters, unable to believe that what he sees is real.
Another seeker?!
Once again, he curses his suspended situation.
There is a gentle touch to his hand, and he frantically grabs the offered hand, reveling in the sudden field of someone that clearly isn't a therapist. A chaotic mix of feelings mingles with his own, and he registers everything ranging from fear and sadness to relief and a deep intense sense of 'I did it!'.