When the shift changed, HK stayed put. Even after a long night of zombie killing, he had no interest in meatbag fuel, especially after all the discussion of chocolate with that rather strange meatbag. It was just making him crave the stuff even more than he had previously, if that was possible
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After that awkward conversation, Depth Charge was just about ready to curl up and drop into stasis lock for the rest of the day. Pit, make that the rest of the week. Once Scourge and Lugnut were gone he settled back into his armchair, sighing. This place was starting to get into his processor. Make him do stupid things. Maybe they put something in the painkillers that turned you into a mellow sap and shot your rear strut for scrap.
That was the trouble with the Institute; he couldn't get his head around the sudden changes. Every spark-pounding night warped into a sleepy day and back again, all without a moment's warning. He was lucky he hadn't started to see things ye-
In a wheelchair, by the bulletin board, was Forte.
Slowly, Depth Charge sat up. Forte didn't flicker, simply went on reading the notices. The younger bot was bandaged and bundled like a soldier after the final push.
He had a right to be. He was dead. Slag it, he'd seen him die, watched the light leave his eyes. This had to be a trick. Some kind of sick mind-smelt the resident psychotic shrink thought would be fun to play out. Or maybe he was just imagining things the way he'd imagined them after Colony Omicron. Faces, voices, movements in the corner of his optic, all belonging to people long dead.
Forte was still there.
Slowly, Depth Charge got to his feet. He had to prove he wasn't real. That this was all in his head. Casually moving to the bulletin board, he came up behind the illusion and reached out to touch its arm.
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Forte had sent the nurse away, although of course she looked worried and simply moved into the background with the rest. He couldn't really get any privacy from them, but at least she wasn't hovering. From what he could see, something had happened last night, besides what he remembered. Of course, there were a few people, talking about what was happening, and what day it was, but Forte didn't even know what day it had been, so-
-and then someone touched his arm. As usual, he'd been completely unaware of his surroundings, and would have jumped if he could. As it was, he straightened immediately, then turned to see his attacker. When he recognized the face, through his foggy memory, Forte grinned widely.
"We won."
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What the Pit was going on?! Forte had died nearly three nights before and that was that. 'Getting better' wasn't an option. You didn't just come back from death. But come back he had, and now the Maximal found himself staring at him, aghast, wondering if he was on the brink of some kind of nervous breakdown. Primus only knew, he was long overdue as it was.
But Forte didn't seem to have noticed. He was actually smiling, as if he'd just been on some kind of vacation or something. Finally, he managed to speak. "You can't be serious."
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"Why not? That thing was dead, you're alive, and it looks like so am I. So, we won." He stopped smiling to ask, "how long has it been?"
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He wanted to be happy. Truly, he did. But there was still part of him that was just too suspicious and too cynical to take it in at all. "Guess so," he answered wearily, leaning on the wall. "It's been three days. Are you sure I'm not...?" He let the question hang. Even he didn't have the bearings to say the 'c' word.
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"I'm here. I'm... recovering. If I weren't real I probably wouldn't hurt so much. But, yeah, somehow I'm alive. It must not have been as bad as it looked."
Sure, it might seem a little suspicious for him to suddenly reappear after several days. But he wasn't going to question it now.
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Slowly, he lowered the hand. Yet again, Forte hadn't moved from his spot. So he definitely wasn't dreaming, or hallucinating, or having an episode. It was only then that he finally let the hint of a a slight, cautious smile tug at his features. "Slag. I... never thought I'd see you in daylight again. Are you okay?"
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"Yeah, I'm... well, I'm hurt, but I'll be okay. Humans heal, it's happened to me before." That's true, the first night he was human, he got stung in the foot, and Sheena saved him- "Oh! Could you put something on the bulletin board for me?"
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But was still too early. The wounds were still raw, and asking was going to hurt like a slagger. He distracted himself. "What do you want me to put?"
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He cleared his throat. Bracing himself or something. "... look... kid..." The words dried uncomfortably in his throat. "About what happened."
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With a sudden force he turned to face Forte face-on and gripped the arms of his wheelchair, face grim. "That's slag. Total slag. I was the one who should have been keeping an eye out. That was my duty. And I let you down." His grip tightened and for a nanoklik his chest tightened too, as though his ribs had suddenly buckled inwards. "I can't make it right for the people I've failed before, but by Primus I'm going to make it right with you."
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"We were partners. It was both our jobs to get the stuff from the storage room and bring it back - not to protect me. I couldn't defend myself, so I got hurt. And..." he hesitated, trying to remember the hazy events at the end of that night, "you were the one that killed it. You know who I blame for this," he raised his injured arm slightly, "I blame that monster... cat thing. And now it's dead, so I can move on and get stronger."
He thought that night was a success, and he didn't want to admit it, but... if anyone had been too weak it was Forte.
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