BEFRIEND YOU
⬵⤁
"Is the battle cry,
The battle cry,"
⬵⤁
Sierra grit her teeth as she slid from the bed, her arm and leg whining in protest. Her burns were healing slowly but surely, and today she was ready to get up and do something. It had been a few days; quite frankly, she wanted to be in the hospital as little as possible. She despised the smell - not of the people, but of the cleaners and strong chemicals. It bothered her far too much.
As she stood to her full height and stretched, she flinched slightly as the tender skin at her neck protested lightly. Though she had suffered the worst of the burns on her arms and legs, a few first degree ones lingered on her neck and chest. Those probably hurt the worst, likely because they just peeled off the top layer of skin, and did not fry her nerves underneath.
Using a crutch for support the young woman decided to go on a walk, limping through the halls with the occasional grimace. Her IV had been removed a couple of days into her recovery, now that she had dialed back the pain medications to nearly 0. Sierra was honestly terrified of developing a narcotic or opioid addiction, thus she preferred to "tough it out" instead of take away her pain. Due to this and her ability to tolerate PO, by mouth, the doctors had elected to have her IV removed.
Yet they wanted her to remain for a few more days to monitor for potential infection. No thank you.
As she made her way towards the emergency room, the nurses were appearing more agitated, a few bouncing from the stock room to the ER, a doctor shouting orders as they prepped one of the trauma rooms. She spotted Miko amidst the chaos, her hands shoving a gurney towards a group of people, which was caught by a nurse as June Darby flopped a body onto it.
Jack? She saw hair stained bright-red, bright blue energon staining their body and clothes. She did not get a good look at their face, and she hesitated. There was some doubt that she would be able to so vividly see such bright red on Jack's black hair.
So . . . what is Miko doing here? She's not a nurse?
"You shouldn't be here," she jumped a little, turning to the nurse who addressed her snappishly. "You need to return to your bed."
"I . . ." she hesitated. "I-I think I know who was brought in-"
"That doesn't matter," the nurse reached out to take her unwrapped elbow. "You need to return to your assigned gurney. Are you in the derma wing?"
"Sierra?" Their attention was switched back to Miko, her eyebrow cocked as she approached, the scrambled team of nurses and doctors disappearing into the trauma room with the patient. Miko peeled off her energon-stained gloves, tossing them into a designated bin which happened to be nearby. "Did you hear what happened?"
"No . . ." she hesitated as the nurse shot Miko a dirty look.
"Young lady, we have a strict dress code for the hospital," she interrupted before Miko could open her mouth. "And there are HIPAA laws we must follow. Who that patient is is none of her business, and you cannot share their information with her."
"I'm not a staff member," Miko shot back, flashing her badge in the woman's face. "Though I do have level nine access to the facility. And I'm friends with Sierra, so let's just call this a visit. I'll take her to her room."
Sierra avoided making her eyebrow-raise too obvious. She and Miko rarely spoke, or even saw each other, so the idea of being "friends" seemed a little extreme.
The nurse blinked, looking unhappy but taking a step back. "She goes back to her room."
"You got it," Miko brushed past her, a bit more agitated than Sierra had seen her. There was tension coiled in her muscles, her eyes bloodshot and even her typical eyeliner look a bit smudged. Upon closer inspection, Sierra realized she was angry.
"What happened? Was it Jack?" She interrogated as soon as the nurse was out of earshot.
"No," the choked response was bewildering, Miko continuing. "Things are falling apart . . . just like before . . ."
"What are you talking about?" Sierra knew what Miko was referring to as "before" - the fall of the Autobots on Earth. But she did not quite understand what events Miko was referencing.
"Jack was kidnapped by the Decepticons, again," there was barely bridled rage in her voice. "Mirage too. Then when I went to talk to June, Vince had an accident; he was cutting the T-cog out when he fell. Busted his head and got energon all over him -"
"Oh my god," Sierra had to stop, the news hitting her like a bus. She had no idea who Vince was cutting a T-cog out of, but that was the least of her worries at the moment. "Is he going to be okay?"
"They're not sure yet. Head wounds bleed a lot, but he got energon in the wound," Miko's hands were shaking. "And we don't know what's happening to Jack. We haven't received any word. Just . . . just like before."
Just like before. Sierra could understand why she was bordering on a panic attack, the pair reaching her hospital bed before too long. Still, Miko was distressed, terrified as various scenarios flashed through her head.
Hearing about Vince's energon poisoning was concerning, but Sierra tried to be optimistic about the doctors quickly working to cleanse his bloodstream. Despite having been around the metal giants for so long, true energon poisonings had not happened yet. Yes, the occasional drop would get on the skin, but a quick wash with water solved that problem. Vince's case was a freak accident.
And Jack . . . she swallowed. Even she could see he had been healing, getting better despite the occasional panic attack or nightmare. To be recaptured . . . he could be tortured again, or killed this time. From what she had heard from Starscream, Megatron held grudges for far longer than a normal living creature. If he had a bone to pick with Jack . . .
They might never see him again.
"So . . . that's what's going on," Miko said awkwardly once they arrived at Sierra's "room." Her whole body, right to her pigtails, were trembling. She looked ready to just break down, holding in her anxiety and overwhelming sadness.
Sierra pat the side of her bed. "Sit for a little bit," she said softly. "If you need to take a second for yourself, go ahead."
Miko took the offer without protest, putting her face in her hands as she sat heavily on the side of the bed, close to the former senior. There was a brief moment of silence before it was broken by her bursting into tears, her shoulders shaking.
"It's not fair!" She shouted to no one in particular. "It's not fair that the Decepticons get to hurt our friends, and we can't do anything about it! It's not fair that he got to take Ratchet and Jack! To hurt Optimus, take the Star Saber! It's not fair that he got to kill our friends!"
The screaming fit was interrupted by another round of sobs, Sierra just watching her.
For three years, Miko dealt with the frustration in stride. Of course war was not fair, of course sometimes the bad guys won. But in the end, good overcame evil, right? So why was everything falling apart again? What was the point of this battle if they did not eventually triumph over Megatron?
Miko had seen firsthand what the Autobots sacrificed to save humanity and themselves. She had understood Jack's pain the best when he had lost Arcee, who, though she was not confirmed deceased to them, was most likely. To have what she used to consider an adventure turn into a serious, detrimental war over her planet was jarring. It was no longer like fun and games to her; her best friend had been brutally tortured, and one of their own Autobots turned against them by pure manipulation.
Things were not fair anymore because Miko had assumed that the Autobots would win - and they had not.
"I'm . . . I'm sorry, Miko," despite how painful it was, Sierra placed her burned hand on the girl's shoulder. "I'm sorry that all of this is happening."
"Don't apologize," Miko hissed, though the anger was not directed at Sierra. "If anyone needs to apologize, it's Megatron."
Sierra was not about to tell her that demanding an apology from the lord of Decepticons would likely not work. Instead, she just nodded silently, not sure what else to do but sit with her as she cried. Sierra felt her own eyes water with tears, and before long she was crying with her. Things were far from fair . . .
But sometimes she wished things would just work out like they were supposed to.
⬵⤁
Gentle digits wrapped around his frame and he leaned into the touch eagerly, a quiet sob escaping with the breath of air that left his mouth as he closed his eyes. He sank into the warm embrace, the familiar touch wrapping him in safety.
"Ratchet . . ."
"It's alright," a soft end stroked his tender back with the upmost care. "I'm right here."
Ratchet looked up at Megatron, who watched the exchange with a faintly amused expression. The medic looked mildly upset, having quickly taken inventory of Jack's state.
"Was this necessary?" He asked, slightly accusatory. "There's blood everywhere, Megatron."
"He received the punishment he rightly deserved," came the smooth, practiced answer. "You understand, dear Ratchet."
Jack swore he felt the medic flinch, opening his eyes and glancing up. He felt his gut contort as he beheld the purple optics that only seemed to have intensified in color over the years, though they gazed at him with the same concern Ratchet always had. He cared about Jack.
"Has he received medical attention?" Ratchet asked, a natural second question from him.
"No," Megatron shifted his stance, and continued before Ratchet could protest. "I will provide it to him when I see fit. I have only allowed this visit for your own sanity."
His medic paused, his next question dying on his glossa. He could see Jack's arms were held outstretched by cruel chains, his digits providing some support and alleviating the stress on his shoulder joints. His face was maimed by more cuts, Ratchet unable to distinguish their purpose because of the dried blood. There were cuts on his back as well, reminiscent of whip lashes; but he knew Megatron would never dare touch a torture device that had been used on him for a millennia. As cruel as Megatron was, he could never bring himself to put another creature on their hands and knees for the sake of degrading them with a whip.
Psychological torture was perfectly fine, but Primus forbid he be so cruel as to use a whip.
A cold presence pressed against him, Megatron's thin patience holding back his wrath as he felt Ratchet's thoughts. The medic realized his misstep and banished the sarcasm from his psyche, instead refocusing on Jack.
"Must he be chained?"
Megatron relaxed his intimidation for the moment. "Until I am finished with him, he must not be given the chance to escape."
Ratchet felt his energon still in his systems, gazing at his master in horror.
"And . . . when you are finished?" He was scared, the question potentially coming with an answer he would not like. His grip on Jack tightened just a little, becoming protective.
There was a pause as Megatron regarded his pet thoughtfully. His smile became a touch wider. "Then I will gift him to you, my pet."
Jack felt a wave of terror run down his spine, certain Ratchet could pick up on the way his heart jumped into his throat. Gift him, as if he too was just a pet in the eyes of the lord of Decepticons. He looked up at Ratchet, the medic appearing satisfied by that answer.
"I understand," he said, looking at Jack with the slightest of apologetic looks. He was not entirely sure what it meant - did he pity not being able to help the human, or did he pity Jack's pet status?
He felt it was more of the former than the latter.
"I will go see your progress with Mirage," Megatron switched to Cybertronian abruptly, making their human prisoner jump just a little. "And allow a few moments with your pet."
Ratchet bowed his helm. "Thank you, master," he replied. "May I request . . . his chains are removed temporarily, to rest his arms?"
There was another pause, and Ratchet thought perhaps he had taken the request too far. However, Megatron pressed a button on the room's only terminal, and Jack fell completely forward as there was a significant amount of slack given to his restraints. His sore shoulders popped and crackled with release, even the tight manacles seeming less restrictive.
He tilted his head back to see Megatron's back to them, slowly and silently exiting the room. The door closed, leaving only the medic and his human companion once again.
"Jack," Ratchet manipulated his servos so the young man was leaning back against them, picking him up fully and bringing him closer to his face. "Mirage told me that you were captured . . . how?"
The human cringed, looking down at his lap. He curled up a little when he remembered his state of undress, now becoming thoroughly embarrassed that Ratchet also saw him in this circumstance. Megatron was humiliating enough.
"I was out on an . . . assignment. We were attacking a Decepticon outpost. The 'con was more difficult than anticipated, but before Mirage and I could escape . . . Megatron interfered. He captured us and took us here."
Ratchet listened, his optic ridges tilting down in the parody of a furrowed brow.
"What are you doing out in the field?" He asked, borderline criticizing. "It's far too dangerous!"
"The Decepticons are trying to enslave humanity," Jack shot back, prickling slightly. "I couldn't just sit by and let them do it! The Autobot team is still alive, and we're doing what we can to save Earth. No matter what it takes."
Ratchet gazed at him, seeing the blood that caked his skin, covering the few scattered scars Jack had accumulated over the years, now joined by fresh wounds he would carry for the rest of his life. Some guilt flickered across his tainted spark, and his digit very gently caressed Jack's cheek. This was not fair to their human friends. None of it was.
But Megatron had every intention to be a merciful dictator, only bringing his wrath down on those who rightly deserved it. The Council had been lax, allowing greed and sin to taint the soil of Cybertron. The lord of Decepticons was merely ensuring history would not be repeated on this planet either.
"Megatron is trying to save Earth as well," he replied gently. "He does not want humanity to make the same mistakes as Cybertron."
"Is that why he's killing our friends?" Jack accused, barely picking up on Ratchet's flinch. "Is that why he killed Smokescreen? Arcee?"
This time the medic did not even move, his entire frame going still as the news cut deep into his energon veins. His optics were wide, staring at Jack as he tried to fully comprehend what he had just said.
"Arcee . . ." he hesitated, the name leaving a bitter taste on his glossa. "She . . . is offline?"
There was a moment of hesitation as Jack realized Megatron had not informed his pet of the two-wheeler's status, the human looking down at the ground in both shame and mourning.
"She has to be," he said, an edge to his quiet voice. "She's been missing for three years, and Arcee never runs away from a fight. She wouldn't run away from me . . . there's no other explanation. The last time I saw her alive was on the warship."
This was news to Ratchet. When had Arcee been on the Nemesis? Was it to attempt and rescue her partner? To rescue him?
"When? How?" He asked, almost borderline demanded. All of this time, and the medic had believed there had been no attempt made to rescue him. But perhaps Arcee - hard-helmed, insubordinate Arcee - was different. Perhaps she actually cared.
Jack hesitated, the mention of his partner still leaving a deep wound in his heart, but he told Ratchet everything. How Megatron had somehow let Arcee aboard the ship, and let her console her partner. The two-wheeler had sworn she would get them out one way or another . . . but she never returned. And even when Jack, June, and Starscream escaped together, she had not been at the Autobot base. She was gone.
She was likely dead.
Ratchet listened with increasing shock, having never heard of such a thing from Megatron. He never once mentioned that Arcee had been on the warship, or that he had possibly terminated her. It took a moment for Ratchet to truly settle on the correct time frame, realizing where he was during that moment.
He had been in his private quarters, still freshly under the influence of the Dark Energon. If Megatron had refrained from speaking of Arcee's fate, it was because he was concerned that Ratchet was not completely under his influence, and he feared that speaking of the death of a comrade would turn him away.
Ratchet had killed Smokescreen. If that did not speak for itself, it meant Megatron did not trust him.
Should he?
"I . . . I'm sorry, Jack," he said, unsure what else to say or do. "I didn't realize -"
"Of course you didn't," came the biting remark, Jack shifting. Where he had before leaned into Ratchet's touch, he now wanted away. "Why would Megatron tell you? He wants to manipulate you, and you're just letting him. Do you even care that she's dead?" His voice became louder with every syllable. "Do you even care that he's going to kill more and more of our friends? That he's torturing me?!"
"Jack-" he made to argue, but the human was already in an emotional frenzy, pushing away the thumb which moved to comfort him.
"You just let him infect you with Dark Energon!" He was nearly screaming now. "And you keep letting him do it! You let him brainwash you! Why? Because you like it? Because you think he cares about you, or Cybertron, or Earth?! He's just using you, and once he's done he'll kill you! Just like he'll kill me, my family, our friends!"
Jack's chest rose up and down in hyperventilation, his forehead beaded with sweat as his hands became slick with it. Even though his body was cold he felt hot, anger tearing into his chest.
"We were Autobots, Ratchet," he said, his voice small and pathetic. "Megatron doesn't see past that. He just uses and uses until we can't be used anymore. Then we die. I don't want to die. Not like that. I didn't want Arcee to die."
Now there were tears, an ugly, primal sob crushing his lungs as the tears flowed down his cheeks, the cuts stinging as they mixed with the salt.
"I just wish I hadn't been so stupid," he cried. "I wish hadn't gotten that stupid drive. I wish I didn't get us captured. I wish things had just worked out like they were supposed to."
He collapsed again, his muscles drained as the fight was siphoned out of him. Whether from exhaustion or lack of nutrition he was weak, all of his strength leaving his words.
"I just want things to be normal again," he said weakly, all the pain in the world in his voice.
Ratchet just held him, keeping him close like a child. He gently stroked the top of his head, watching as the exhausted human just let him. There was no more fight, only a silent plea for rest.
"Everything will be alright," he assured him, unsure of how truly empty his words were. "You are here, Jack, with me. Everything will be okay.
"I promise."