Fic- Gentle Cage, Tap-Out/First Aid, December Minibot Challenge Piece
Title: Gentle Cage
Writer: Left_eye_better
Rating: T
Characters: First Aid, Tap-Out
Prompt(s): Taking on Too Much
Damage control
Warning: Dark, unnamed character death
Word Count: 3555
Continuity: G1
_________________________
Tap-Out sat silently on the berth. He shivered as his functional arm held his other arm in place against its mooring. The damage done to his arm was severe, and when First Aid had initially inspected it, he discovered that the limb was only connected by strained wires and a horribly warped and inert socket joint. Unfortunately, Tap-Out was not the worst case, and had been forced to wait… though as it turned out, the minibot seemed perfectly fine with that news. All the mech seemed to do since his arrival was watch the attempts to save a scientist mech that had been a part of the crew Tap-Out was stationed with. His optics were unfocused, and dimly lit. The green mech knew the look of a mech that was doomed to gray out due to his injuries. The poorly armored scientist hadn’t stood a chance. If he hadn’t long ago written a program to override his naturally driven ventilations, he doubted he’d even be functioning as well as he was currently.
When the plating of the seriously damaged mech started to gray, it started at the furthest points from the spark, and like a shadow creeping across the ground, it travelled over the mech’s plating until with one last arch and a broken whimper the fellow Autobot’s existence was gone. After that, the medbay of Autobot City was dreadfully silent. The medics that had been involved in the process slowly scattered after they shut the expired mech’s chest plates. The dead would wait if there were living that still needed to be tended to. Tap-Out had propped himself against the wall that anchored the back of the berth he rested on. His legs were out in front of him on the surface, and besides the pressure he used to hold his arm in place, the rest of his frame appeared limp in a doll-like fashion. The fight for that day was over, or at least that was how it seemed.
An unfamiliar medic came to inspect the green mech’s shoulder, and met opposition. The minibot struggled against the larger mech, causing the damaged joint to screech in protest as Tap-Out let it fall to his side to push the medic away. The next few astroseconds ended with the medic backing away after the minibot had made a near-feral snarl accompanied by an unsteady lunge. First Aid watched the scene and excused himself from the patient he’d taken up. The gestalt mech crossed the distance to the berth that the other medic stood some distance away from. His visor flared in interest and he briefly rested a hand on the other medic’s shoulder. A quick exchange over the medical frequency had them switching patients.
Tap-Out’s movements had landed him on the edge of the berth. First Aid moved forward slowly, but in a clearly deliberate fashion, taking a seat beside him. Since the first time he’d seen the mech, he’d had a chance to brief himself on the minibot’s medical history. It wasn’t pretty. Gruesome injuries were taken in the name of protecting others, and the red and white medic had no doubt these wounds were of that origin as well. He held out a white hand as he had the first day he’d met the mech, inviting the other to cooperate as he had then. When the green minibot chose not to take the offer but instead continued to look at the grayed form that still rested on the examination table, the junior medic attempted to use auditory signal to gain attention. “Please,” His optics appraised the injury and curiously found little evidence of expelled energon, strange in a wound that should have been running rivulets…
First Aid’s visor seemed somehow to widen in realization. His hand went to the other’s chassis, the sensory pads turned up in order to hopefully be able to detect the normal vibrations of the minibot’s systems. The only thing the medic could detect was the almost imperceptible rumble of his engine. He pressed his hand harder against the plating, he had to be missing it. There should have been the consistent thump of the minibot’s fuel pump. There was no way a sane mech would consciously disable it. The Protectobot didn’t even want to think about the pain that would subject a ‘bot to.
The pressure on his front made him lose his delicate balance. Tap-Out swayed and fell backwards onto the berth’s cushioning. He still clutched his arm to his side, and the impact jarred it, making him truly feel the injury for the first time since it was originally inflicted. His processor felt foggy, and he shuttered his optics in an attempt to clear the static. He must’ve taken his time retracting his optical shutters, because there was suddenly a large mech above him. He felt the medical port at his collar flare to life as a connection was made. Across his visual display the name of the mech flashed briefly, and taking longer than he should of to initialize his recognition files he finally put an identity to the mech. “First Aid?”
“I’m starting your fuel pump back up, Tap-Out.” A black cord ran from the young medic’s shoulder to the minibot’s collar. First Aid’s hands were busy reaching into the wound, and with tiny non-reusable crimps clamping the lines so the other wouldn’t bleed out. The green mech shivered and cried out as the pump activated. “I’m sorry,” the Protectobot quickly apologized for the action, although it was in his patient’s best interest to have fuel delivered to his primary systems. In the back of the medic’s mind he felt the ever-present pull of his brothers, questioning the excitement but patiently waiting, not daring to interrupt when they could feel the importance of their component’s concentration.
Over the medical hardline he shared with the green mech, First Aid gently instilled pain-relieving coding. The effect was visible… Tap-Out’s helm tilted back, his optics half powered and lips parted slightly. The sudden absence of pain in some mechs seemed to be wired as pleasure, and in the minibot’s case that seemed to be true. Ever the diligent medic, the red and white mech suppressed the small flare of heat he felt at that idea. Tap-Out groaned before dropping into a near-stasis level of recharge, and with that First Aid cycled air. The work could finally begin.
_______________
The repairs on the green minibot had been completed for a few days. It was First Aid’s shift in the medbay, and Groove had decided to stop in and keep him company. The motorcycle mech strolled past the berth that Tap-Out had been laid out on. The grayed mech had been already moved from the central worktable, and the medbay was cleaned and primed for the next emergency, ever efficient even when its original maintainer Ratchet was no longer present. First Aid’s bronze faced brother whistled as he spotted the work that had been done to the smaller mech. “Yikes, woulda hated to have felt that.” Groove turned to look back at the ambulance. “Hey, didn’t you finish this guy up a while ago? Why ain’t he up and at ‘em?”
“I’m hoping he stays under a bit longer, actually. His self-repair is sluggish, and only yesterday I discovered his nanites were severely depleted. We had to give him a transfusion. I’m thinking about putting him on medical leave and doing a full system check as well. He managed to turn his own fuel pump off, according to his system command logs.” Normally First Aid would have refrained from sharing patient information so willingly, but his gestalt would gain the information the next time they merged. They had the same medical clearance he did for that reason, and it was one of the things that made the current command staff unsure if it would be wise to elevate First Aid to resident chief medical officer.
Groove raised an optical ridge at the idea of a mech having that sort of control, or perhaps that much of a deathwish. “Bad aft?”
First Aid chuckled before turning back to the computer screen. “You don’t know the half of it. Actually… you listen to Kup’s stories a lot, so you might. He literally survived the Pit, part of why I want to keep him here. He has some coding issues, and berserker tendencies that I would like to try to neutralize. Also, he is in serious need of some peace, and a stable non-threatening environment. Earth can offer him that.”
“Wait, The Pit? You mean the Polyhex Pits?” Groove left the unconscious mech, taking strides across the medbay to stand beside his seated brother. “You mean he’s the guy that Kup talks about having bolts of trithyllim?” He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the green mech.
“Yes, he’s the one. You’d be surprised how kind of an individual he is for it, though.” First Aid tilted his helm in order to look up at his gestaltmate.
“… Thought you jus’ said he had berserker tendencies?” Mimicking human written speech the motorcycle mech made quotation marks with his fingers to highlight the restated fact. Somehow, First Aid with his visor had mastered the mech equivalent to a human rolling their eyes.
_______________
His limbs felt heavy, and his chronometer lagged as it struggled to update to the correct time. His long-term memory was automatically available, while his short-term seemed just out of reach as it slowly booted up. “Uuugh.” Grinding his dental plates together, he raised a hand to his helm. Tap-Out felt like he’d been involved in a high-speed collision, but with no outward sign of that he was unsure why that was. A hand lightly settled on top of his, prompting him to unshutter his optics.
“Nice to see you awake. The transfusion is still incorporating into your systems, right now they are trying to wear themselves out on old wounds." First Aid stood next to the berth. The younger mech shifted his weight from one pede to the other in what could be interpreted as a self-conscious motion.
"I feel worse than when I came in." Tap-Out managed to grumble, more out of his habit of being honest than from any attempt to insult his caretaker. With a grunt he attempted to sit up, only to find the medic's arms slipping behind his shoulders to help complete the motion.
"That is most likely because your systems were so far into shutdown you were incapable of feeling it, not because the pain wasn't there." Behind his mask the Protectobot frowned as he tried to make his patient comfortable. Unfortunately there was little he could do for the mech as far as the pain from the integration of the new nanites. "I've received permission to put you on medical leave. You need the rest."
"No, I don't. I'm going to feel like slag whether I'm laid up or not, I might as well be doing something useful." Tap-Out was going to be stubborn. First Aid tilted his helm to the side in resignation of that fact. He really hadn’t expected anything else from the small mech, but for once he hoped a patient would make things easy for him.
The young medic took a seat on the berth, and reaching out he untangled the energy feed going into the other, and several monitor cables as he tried to think of a good reply. Out of habit, the horned mech watched his movements. First Aid’s hand moved the rebuilt shoulder, and carefully he rolled it. While doing so, his audials picked up the decisive click of a vocalizer being muted. “You need rest. I know it is difficult…trust me I know, but please. I can give you small tasks here if I must to keep you agreeable, but I do not want you sent out on a ship until I’m certain you have fully recovered.”
He worked his way down the entire arm and ended at the hand, which he held lightly between his own larger ones. The shake was still there, as the mech had said before. First Aid’s optics attempted to meet those of his patient through the visor, but the other would not lock gazes for more than a second before looking away. The minibot’s posture and expression, while it held an overall defiant attitude, was laced with mourning. “Upset about your crewmate?” The younger mech tilted his helm and tried once more to make their optics meet. It was a habit developed from his time spent both with the indigenous population, and the tight knit crew of the Ark. “There is no weakness in expressing grief.”
Inside of the gentle cage of the medic’s hands, Tap-Out’s curled to make a fist. His determination was clear. Another mech was dead. There was nothing to do for the dead, but everything to do for the living. “I want my next assignment.” He let First Aid have the optical contact he seemed to seek so fervently.
The ambulance mech’s visor narrowed in reaction to the green mech’s request. “Your assignment is to heal.” His hold on Tap-Out’s hand tightened with conviction. Hot Spot’s pride lurked in the backed of his processor. Much had changed from the early days that his larger gestalt leader would sometimes have to be a presence behind the red and white mech in order for the junior medic’s wishes to hold strength.
“I’ll do that either way-”
“No, you won’t.” First Aid interjected. “You need peace to heal. If you won’t give that to yourself, than I’ll just have to get it made an order. I don’t want to, but I will.” He had to admit to himself that was a lie. He did want it to be an order if that’s what it took. “You need to rest. You’ve been allowed to run without leave longer than Ultra Magnus, and that in and of itself is feat.” The ambulance set the minibot’s fist onto the berth. He exuded a professionalism that had been inherited from his mentor as he stood and looked down at the minibot. “I’m not doing this to be cruel, or unfair. This is in your best interests.” The red and white mech leaned and unhooked the energon feed, but left the monitor cables attached. “I’ll go get you a cube. There are only so many metallic supplements I can include in a feed.” First Aid’s visor flared in a pleasant way as he retreated to get the energon.
_______________
Time was a greater healer than First Aid ever expected himself to be. Tap-Out had settled into being a patient much more easily after his first attempt at straining himself, and when First Aid had presented him with the simple task of assisting by building field medkits from supplies that had come in, the minibot eagerly took the assignment. That task, though, had been set aside after a test had come back stating that the green mech’s hydraulic fluid been contaminated by large amounts of coolant. A flush of the system was necessary, and while it was typically done with the patient put into a medically induced near-stasis recharge, First Aid had compromised when pressured by the green mech, and agreed with hesitation to conduct the flush while the mech was aware.
It was a simple enough procedure. He had Tap-Out move to one of the main worktables and lay on his front. The patient’s sensors was numbed in the joints, and the dorsal plating and then the back plates were removed to gain access to the hydraulic system, at least in this design of mech. First Aid mentally reviewed the steps as his hand attached the inbound and exit lines to the mech’s systems. The minibot must have felt something since he twitched at the action. The Protectobot patted his shoulder in reassurance. “I’m going to start. I have to ask, you sure you don’t want to be under for this. I can’t imagine it will feel pleasant.”
Tap-Out shook his helm, and out of habit attempted to grip the edge of the berth. With his joints unfeeling it was an exceedingly futile task. “I’m good, probably won’t feel it.” The minibot turned his helm to the side, allowing his cheekplate to rest on the cool tabletop.
The ambulance mech had stopped trying to understand the bravado some bots felt compelled to show in the face of unpleasant medical procedures. “Alright.” With his pede, he tapped a waste receptacle into place at the head of the berth, then flipped a switch on the machine. At a high rate of speed the machine first switched the coolant-tainted fluid out, and then pushed a thicker cleaning agent through the entire system. A light on the equipment containing the pump illuminated alerting First Aid to the change in cycles.
The pressure on his hydraulic lines made him feel as if he was being somehow pressed outward from the inside. The sensation was almost forcibly unsettling. In a motion he didn’t know he had the strength for in the circumstance, he shoved himself to the head of the table and heaved. A steady hand on his shoulder indicated that it might not have all been his strength that got him there. The young mech’s soft tone reassuring him it was almost over was his undoing. His ventilation system seized audibly from the sudden expulsion of processed energon. Tap-Out clutched the edge of the table, his optics filled with static, even after he’d shuttered them to clear it. A low keen left his vocalizer. Primus, he was weak. He’d always been weak. He was stronger than some, but some important part of him was always faulty.
First Aid had acted quickly. He had worked in a medbay long enough to know the signs of when a mech was going to try to purge. Gripping the mech under the shoulder, the Protectobot had hauled him to the edge of the table, and held the mech so he wouldn’t tip off. After it appeared the other was through with it, he ran his hand across the green mech’s shoulders in a soothing way. “It’s alright. Almost done, then I’ll unhook it. Okay?” The machine beeped. Still holding the mech near the edge of the table, he reached without waiting for a reply and only barely shooting a glance back at his intended target as he disengaged the lines.
The mech’s cry seemed to cut through the air with a starkness that made the red and white mech wish he could have sped the procedure even further. Although it was generally not advisable to jostle a mech that had just emptied a good deal of his fuel storage, First Aid managed to maneuver the minibot, and moved to sit on the table with him. “We’re done. It’s alright.” He hated when patients cried, even when it was needed. The horned mech had curled against him almost automatically, seeking comfort. Shaking green hands found holds on the young mech’s sides.
Tap-Out had thought he’d confronted this weakness when he was rescued. He thought he had fought this battle as he stared at the ceiling of the Xantium’s tight medbay with his intakes hitching as their medic rushed to do hasty repairs, but it seemed he was being pitted against his oldest foe once again. “I’m weak.” His vocalizer managed to get the words out through the static. All he was good for was killing. That’s what the ‘Cons had used him for. He’d been assigned to the last ship as a fighter in case the science crew had run into trouble at the destination they’d never made it to. Again willing to be made a killer, and when he’d decided to rename his actions he failed. He had wanted to be their guard. That science mech had died, and showed his lack of skill at his newly designated task.
First Aid allowed the mech lean into him. He wrapped an arm around the minibot’s shoulders and soothingly stroked his helm. “No. No, You’re not. You need to rest. I told you this before.”
“I couldn’t protect that mech. I can’t protect anyone. I couldn’t save anyone then, and I still can’t now.” Tap-Out’s hands tightened and his air intakes hitched woefully.
“No one asked for your protection. Even attempting to help shows you are not weak…” Something in his patient’s words stuck deep. As a pacifist that had oftentimes decided not to act unless brought to it by the group, he often had done his part after the main conflicts had passed. Protecting life whether in battle or afterwards often led to the same problem. You can’t save them all. “We can only do so much, and we cannot do more than what we are capable of, though we can always try. I’ve seen your record, you know.” First Aid tilted his helm down, trying once more to make optic contact with the minibot and this time succeeding fairly well. “You generally bite off more than you can chew.”
At that moment, those words for some reason came across as amusing to the green mech, and although he still ached in several ways a stiff bark of laughter cut through his pain. “You aren’t the first to tell me that.”
Forgot the cut whoops
Writer: Left_eye_better
Rating: T
Characters: First Aid, Tap-Out
Prompt(s): Taking on Too Much
Damage control
Warning: Dark, unnamed character death
Word Count: 3555
Continuity: G1
_________________________
Tap-Out sat silently on the berth. He shivered as his functional arm held his other arm in place against its mooring. The damage done to his arm was severe, and when First Aid had initially inspected it, he discovered that the limb was only connected by strained wires and a horribly warped and inert socket joint. Unfortunately, Tap-Out was not the worst case, and had been forced to wait… though as it turned out, the minibot seemed perfectly fine with that news. All the mech seemed to do since his arrival was watch the attempts to save a scientist mech that had been a part of the crew Tap-Out was stationed with. His optics were unfocused, and dimly lit. The green mech knew the look of a mech that was doomed to gray out due to his injuries. The poorly armored scientist hadn’t stood a chance. If he hadn’t long ago written a program to override his naturally driven ventilations, he doubted he’d even be functioning as well as he was currently.
When the plating of the seriously damaged mech started to gray, it started at the furthest points from the spark, and like a shadow creeping across the ground, it travelled over the mech’s plating until with one last arch and a broken whimper the fellow Autobot’s existence was gone. After that, the medbay of Autobot City was dreadfully silent. The medics that had been involved in the process slowly scattered after they shut the expired mech’s chest plates. The dead would wait if there were living that still needed to be tended to. Tap-Out had propped himself against the wall that anchored the back of the berth he rested on. His legs were out in front of him on the surface, and besides the pressure he used to hold his arm in place, the rest of his frame appeared limp in a doll-like fashion. The fight for that day was over, or at least that was how it seemed.
An unfamiliar medic came to inspect the green mech’s shoulder, and met opposition. The minibot struggled against the larger mech, causing the damaged joint to screech in protest as Tap-Out let it fall to his side to push the medic away. The next few astroseconds ended with the medic backing away after the minibot had made a near-feral snarl accompanied by an unsteady lunge. First Aid watched the scene and excused himself from the patient he’d taken up. The gestalt mech crossed the distance to the berth that the other medic stood some distance away from. His visor flared in interest and he briefly rested a hand on the other medic’s shoulder. A quick exchange over the medical frequency had them switching patients.
Tap-Out’s movements had landed him on the edge of the berth. First Aid moved forward slowly, but in a clearly deliberate fashion, taking a seat beside him. Since the first time he’d seen the mech, he’d had a chance to brief himself on the minibot’s medical history. It wasn’t pretty. Gruesome injuries were taken in the name of protecting others, and the red and white medic had no doubt these wounds were of that origin as well. He held out a white hand as he had the first day he’d met the mech, inviting the other to cooperate as he had then. When the green minibot chose not to take the offer but instead continued to look at the grayed form that still rested on the examination table, the junior medic attempted to use auditory signal to gain attention. “Please,” His optics appraised the injury and curiously found little evidence of expelled energon, strange in a wound that should have been running rivulets…
First Aid’s visor seemed somehow to widen in realization. His hand went to the other’s chassis, the sensory pads turned up in order to hopefully be able to detect the normal vibrations of the minibot’s systems. The only thing the medic could detect was the almost imperceptible rumble of his engine. He pressed his hand harder against the plating, he had to be missing it. There should have been the consistent thump of the minibot’s fuel pump. There was no way a sane mech would consciously disable it. The Protectobot didn’t even want to think about the pain that would subject a ‘bot to.
The pressure on his front made him lose his delicate balance. Tap-Out swayed and fell backwards onto the berth’s cushioning. He still clutched his arm to his side, and the impact jarred it, making him truly feel the injury for the first time since it was originally inflicted. His processor felt foggy, and he shuttered his optics in an attempt to clear the static. He must’ve taken his time retracting his optical shutters, because there was suddenly a large mech above him. He felt the medical port at his collar flare to life as a connection was made. Across his visual display the name of the mech flashed briefly, and taking longer than he should of to initialize his recognition files he finally put an identity to the mech. “First Aid?”
“I’m starting your fuel pump back up, Tap-Out.” A black cord ran from the young medic’s shoulder to the minibot’s collar. First Aid’s hands were busy reaching into the wound, and with tiny non-reusable crimps clamping the lines so the other wouldn’t bleed out. The green mech shivered and cried out as the pump activated. “I’m sorry,” the Protectobot quickly apologized for the action, although it was in his patient’s best interest to have fuel delivered to his primary systems. In the back of the medic’s mind he felt the ever-present pull of his brothers, questioning the excitement but patiently waiting, not daring to interrupt when they could feel the importance of their component’s concentration.
Over the medical hardline he shared with the green mech, First Aid gently instilled pain-relieving coding. The effect was visible… Tap-Out’s helm tilted back, his optics half powered and lips parted slightly. The sudden absence of pain in some mechs seemed to be wired as pleasure, and in the minibot’s case that seemed to be true. Ever the diligent medic, the red and white mech suppressed the small flare of heat he felt at that idea. Tap-Out groaned before dropping into a near-stasis level of recharge, and with that First Aid cycled air. The work could finally begin.
_______________
The repairs on the green minibot had been completed for a few days. It was First Aid’s shift in the medbay, and Groove had decided to stop in and keep him company. The motorcycle mech strolled past the berth that Tap-Out had been laid out on. The grayed mech had been already moved from the central worktable, and the medbay was cleaned and primed for the next emergency, ever efficient even when its original maintainer Ratchet was no longer present. First Aid’s bronze faced brother whistled as he spotted the work that had been done to the smaller mech. “Yikes, woulda hated to have felt that.” Groove turned to look back at the ambulance. “Hey, didn’t you finish this guy up a while ago? Why ain’t he up and at ‘em?”
“I’m hoping he stays under a bit longer, actually. His self-repair is sluggish, and only yesterday I discovered his nanites were severely depleted. We had to give him a transfusion. I’m thinking about putting him on medical leave and doing a full system check as well. He managed to turn his own fuel pump off, according to his system command logs.” Normally First Aid would have refrained from sharing patient information so willingly, but his gestalt would gain the information the next time they merged. They had the same medical clearance he did for that reason, and it was one of the things that made the current command staff unsure if it would be wise to elevate First Aid to resident chief medical officer.
Groove raised an optical ridge at the idea of a mech having that sort of control, or perhaps that much of a deathwish. “Bad aft?”
First Aid chuckled before turning back to the computer screen. “You don’t know the half of it. Actually… you listen to Kup’s stories a lot, so you might. He literally survived the Pit, part of why I want to keep him here. He has some coding issues, and berserker tendencies that I would like to try to neutralize. Also, he is in serious need of some peace, and a stable non-threatening environment. Earth can offer him that.”
“Wait, The Pit? You mean the Polyhex Pits?” Groove left the unconscious mech, taking strides across the medbay to stand beside his seated brother. “You mean he’s the guy that Kup talks about having bolts of trithyllim?” He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the green mech.
“Yes, he’s the one. You’d be surprised how kind of an individual he is for it, though.” First Aid tilted his helm in order to look up at his gestaltmate.
“… Thought you jus’ said he had berserker tendencies?” Mimicking human written speech the motorcycle mech made quotation marks with his fingers to highlight the restated fact. Somehow, First Aid with his visor had mastered the mech equivalent to a human rolling their eyes.
_______________
His limbs felt heavy, and his chronometer lagged as it struggled to update to the correct time. His long-term memory was automatically available, while his short-term seemed just out of reach as it slowly booted up. “Uuugh.” Grinding his dental plates together, he raised a hand to his helm. Tap-Out felt like he’d been involved in a high-speed collision, but with no outward sign of that he was unsure why that was. A hand lightly settled on top of his, prompting him to unshutter his optics.
“Nice to see you awake. The transfusion is still incorporating into your systems, right now they are trying to wear themselves out on old wounds." First Aid stood next to the berth. The younger mech shifted his weight from one pede to the other in what could be interpreted as a self-conscious motion.
"I feel worse than when I came in." Tap-Out managed to grumble, more out of his habit of being honest than from any attempt to insult his caretaker. With a grunt he attempted to sit up, only to find the medic's arms slipping behind his shoulders to help complete the motion.
"That is most likely because your systems were so far into shutdown you were incapable of feeling it, not because the pain wasn't there." Behind his mask the Protectobot frowned as he tried to make his patient comfortable. Unfortunately there was little he could do for the mech as far as the pain from the integration of the new nanites. "I've received permission to put you on medical leave. You need the rest."
"No, I don't. I'm going to feel like slag whether I'm laid up or not, I might as well be doing something useful." Tap-Out was going to be stubborn. First Aid tilted his helm to the side in resignation of that fact. He really hadn’t expected anything else from the small mech, but for once he hoped a patient would make things easy for him.
The young medic took a seat on the berth, and reaching out he untangled the energy feed going into the other, and several monitor cables as he tried to think of a good reply. Out of habit, the horned mech watched his movements. First Aid’s hand moved the rebuilt shoulder, and carefully he rolled it. While doing so, his audials picked up the decisive click of a vocalizer being muted. “You need rest. I know it is difficult…trust me I know, but please. I can give you small tasks here if I must to keep you agreeable, but I do not want you sent out on a ship until I’m certain you have fully recovered.”
He worked his way down the entire arm and ended at the hand, which he held lightly between his own larger ones. The shake was still there, as the mech had said before. First Aid’s optics attempted to meet those of his patient through the visor, but the other would not lock gazes for more than a second before looking away. The minibot’s posture and expression, while it held an overall defiant attitude, was laced with mourning. “Upset about your crewmate?” The younger mech tilted his helm and tried once more to make their optics meet. It was a habit developed from his time spent both with the indigenous population, and the tight knit crew of the Ark. “There is no weakness in expressing grief.”
Inside of the gentle cage of the medic’s hands, Tap-Out’s curled to make a fist. His determination was clear. Another mech was dead. There was nothing to do for the dead, but everything to do for the living. “I want my next assignment.” He let First Aid have the optical contact he seemed to seek so fervently.
The ambulance mech’s visor narrowed in reaction to the green mech’s request. “Your assignment is to heal.” His hold on Tap-Out’s hand tightened with conviction. Hot Spot’s pride lurked in the backed of his processor. Much had changed from the early days that his larger gestalt leader would sometimes have to be a presence behind the red and white mech in order for the junior medic’s wishes to hold strength.
“I’ll do that either way-”
“No, you won’t.” First Aid interjected. “You need peace to heal. If you won’t give that to yourself, than I’ll just have to get it made an order. I don’t want to, but I will.” He had to admit to himself that was a lie. He did want it to be an order if that’s what it took. “You need to rest. You’ve been allowed to run without leave longer than Ultra Magnus, and that in and of itself is feat.” The ambulance set the minibot’s fist onto the berth. He exuded a professionalism that had been inherited from his mentor as he stood and looked down at the minibot. “I’m not doing this to be cruel, or unfair. This is in your best interests.” The red and white mech leaned and unhooked the energon feed, but left the monitor cables attached. “I’ll go get you a cube. There are only so many metallic supplements I can include in a feed.” First Aid’s visor flared in a pleasant way as he retreated to get the energon.
_______________
Time was a greater healer than First Aid ever expected himself to be. Tap-Out had settled into being a patient much more easily after his first attempt at straining himself, and when First Aid had presented him with the simple task of assisting by building field medkits from supplies that had come in, the minibot eagerly took the assignment. That task, though, had been set aside after a test had come back stating that the green mech’s hydraulic fluid been contaminated by large amounts of coolant. A flush of the system was necessary, and while it was typically done with the patient put into a medically induced near-stasis recharge, First Aid had compromised when pressured by the green mech, and agreed with hesitation to conduct the flush while the mech was aware.
It was a simple enough procedure. He had Tap-Out move to one of the main worktables and lay on his front. The patient’s sensors was numbed in the joints, and the dorsal plating and then the back plates were removed to gain access to the hydraulic system, at least in this design of mech. First Aid mentally reviewed the steps as his hand attached the inbound and exit lines to the mech’s systems. The minibot must have felt something since he twitched at the action. The Protectobot patted his shoulder in reassurance. “I’m going to start. I have to ask, you sure you don’t want to be under for this. I can’t imagine it will feel pleasant.”
Tap-Out shook his helm, and out of habit attempted to grip the edge of the berth. With his joints unfeeling it was an exceedingly futile task. “I’m good, probably won’t feel it.” The minibot turned his helm to the side, allowing his cheekplate to rest on the cool tabletop.
The ambulance mech had stopped trying to understand the bravado some bots felt compelled to show in the face of unpleasant medical procedures. “Alright.” With his pede, he tapped a waste receptacle into place at the head of the berth, then flipped a switch on the machine. At a high rate of speed the machine first switched the coolant-tainted fluid out, and then pushed a thicker cleaning agent through the entire system. A light on the equipment containing the pump illuminated alerting First Aid to the change in cycles.
The pressure on his hydraulic lines made him feel as if he was being somehow pressed outward from the inside. The sensation was almost forcibly unsettling. In a motion he didn’t know he had the strength for in the circumstance, he shoved himself to the head of the table and heaved. A steady hand on his shoulder indicated that it might not have all been his strength that got him there. The young mech’s soft tone reassuring him it was almost over was his undoing. His ventilation system seized audibly from the sudden expulsion of processed energon. Tap-Out clutched the edge of the table, his optics filled with static, even after he’d shuttered them to clear it. A low keen left his vocalizer. Primus, he was weak. He’d always been weak. He was stronger than some, but some important part of him was always faulty.
First Aid had acted quickly. He had worked in a medbay long enough to know the signs of when a mech was going to try to purge. Gripping the mech under the shoulder, the Protectobot had hauled him to the edge of the table, and held the mech so he wouldn’t tip off. After it appeared the other was through with it, he ran his hand across the green mech’s shoulders in a soothing way. “It’s alright. Almost done, then I’ll unhook it. Okay?” The machine beeped. Still holding the mech near the edge of the table, he reached without waiting for a reply and only barely shooting a glance back at his intended target as he disengaged the lines.
The mech’s cry seemed to cut through the air with a starkness that made the red and white mech wish he could have sped the procedure even further. Although it was generally not advisable to jostle a mech that had just emptied a good deal of his fuel storage, First Aid managed to maneuver the minibot, and moved to sit on the table with him. “We’re done. It’s alright.” He hated when patients cried, even when it was needed. The horned mech had curled against him almost automatically, seeking comfort. Shaking green hands found holds on the young mech’s sides.
Tap-Out had thought he’d confronted this weakness when he was rescued. He thought he had fought this battle as he stared at the ceiling of the Xantium’s tight medbay with his intakes hitching as their medic rushed to do hasty repairs, but it seemed he was being pitted against his oldest foe once again. “I’m weak.” His vocalizer managed to get the words out through the static. All he was good for was killing. That’s what the ‘Cons had used him for. He’d been assigned to the last ship as a fighter in case the science crew had run into trouble at the destination they’d never made it to. Again willing to be made a killer, and when he’d decided to rename his actions he failed. He had wanted to be their guard. That science mech had died, and showed his lack of skill at his newly designated task.
First Aid allowed the mech lean into him. He wrapped an arm around the minibot’s shoulders and soothingly stroked his helm. “No. No, You’re not. You need to rest. I told you this before.”
“I couldn’t protect that mech. I can’t protect anyone. I couldn’t save anyone then, and I still can’t now.” Tap-Out’s hands tightened and his air intakes hitched woefully.
“No one asked for your protection. Even attempting to help shows you are not weak…” Something in his patient’s words stuck deep. As a pacifist that had oftentimes decided not to act unless brought to it by the group, he often had done his part after the main conflicts had passed. Protecting life whether in battle or afterwards often led to the same problem. You can’t save them all. “We can only do so much, and we cannot do more than what we are capable of, though we can always try. I’ve seen your record, you know.” First Aid tilted his helm down, trying once more to make optic contact with the minibot and this time succeeding fairly well. “You generally bite off more than you can chew.”
At that moment, those words for some reason came across as amusing to the green mech, and although he still ached in several ways a stiff bark of laughter cut through his pain. “You aren’t the first to tell me that.”
Forgot the cut whoops