Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

(Vortex)

Who knew a tipping point in my life would come literally crashing from the sky. And when I say tipping point, I really mean I came crashing from the sky. Beaten and writhing in pain from the harpoon protruding out my back frame. That’s how he found me.

Another battle had raged on over various weeks, fighting over another energon hotspot. Or rather a game of attack and defend, cat and mouse as the humans call it. The Autobots had been just a little bit quicker than us this time around. Managing to reach the hotspot of energon before us and set up a smaller outpost base to defend it, quite the annoyance but we don’t back down that easily, or that’s what our fearless leader believes so we had to act on that principle. Dozens of bodies and battles later the scale tipped between each side. We had been close last time, launching an air attack that was sure to overwhelm their forces but apparently the autobots brought in a ringer. Trailbreaker.

Another dam autobots with a fancy trick!

Thanks to that fancy forcefield gimmick the autobots were able to hold off the bombing strike, and when the alarm sounded the autobots were unharmed and ready to retaliate. Many of us came back with damaged wings and prides. Not our greatest welcome home. Megatron was not pleased, Ravage had returned with intel that the autobots were planning to inhance the forcefield technology based off Trailbreaker’s unique design. Another bump in the road…

Megatron grew starved for progress, an advantage, a tipping point in our favor. So here I am, searching for his precious edge.

The autobot’s base came into view beneath the clouds, my scanner immediately covering the surrounding area to see what I’d be dealing with. Threat capacity and all that. The scans came back as expected, a few guards outside the entrance and positioned on the balcony. A few further life signals roamed the borders, probably scouts, but I took note to avoid their paths. This was a stealth mission despite my arguments against being selected for said mission, this wasn’t within my skill set. I’m part of the combaticons team for a reason, we live for action and combat, not stealth. Plus, news flash! Coppers aren’t quiet! But once again, Onslaught was pissed at my performance score and so I take the heat.

Let’s just get this over with…

I filter the scanner to seek out forcefield signatures, better find out how far along the fancy tech is. The screen blipped with an “error” sign, increasing my irritation. I was too far away to detect something so specific, I needed to move in closer.

I’m still cautious to stay within the cover of clouds, too low and I’ll be spotted for sure. Focus shifting back to the scanner as I move down, watching for the happy green light that means it’s working.

“Come on…”

“Come on, you piece of junk! Work dammit!”

Scan complete

“Finally!”

I’m too focused on the scanner working, before I realize my mistake. I can see the base clearly, too clearly, I’m past the clouds!

“I’m too close!”

Immediately my blades spin faster, climbing for a safer altitude. I’m not a coward but I’m not going to become a sitting duck either.

I think I'm home free when I feel the damp wisp of the clouds against my frame. A sharp shink and ripping pain says otherwise.

A pained cry erupts from my voice box, scanners alerting me with a damage report but I’d don’t need it to tell me where the harpoon was stabbed through. Fired up at me with enough force to stab through my frame upwards and jam my blades from spinning.

Bracing for forced descent never helped, that’s a myth.

I hit the ground hard before I could register the fall fully. Skidding against the dirt and dried rocks, a trail carved behind me. My frame groaned as I tipped up and dropped to the final stop point.

The pain of being stabbed through was nothing like the pain when shot. A shop leaves damage, yes, but the shot is made of energon. Energon dissipates, gonzo, but a harpoon is solid, it stays intact.

I remember my training, ignore the pain, transform. You’re a sitting duck. When your alt mode fails, switch to legs, move any way you can. Get moving! Deceptions don’t go down that easily. The autobots will surely check if I’m still online, move!

My cog whirls to life, shifting my frame towards transformation. I won’t be able to remove the harpoon without hands, I need to transform! But the harpoon is wedged at an awkward angle, wedging some pieces of my blades, I have to force the rest of my body to force the process. Something that brings another pained cry to my voice box. Hopefully no one heard it.

Finally I’m on my feet, panting from the strain I just endured, but no time to waste. My grip closes over the harpoon, adjusting the angle of my hold before squeezing my optics shut and yanking it out. Energon stains the handle as I cast it aside to the dirt, clamping my free hand over my shoulder where the angle of impact leads to my back frame, blades bend and chipped. Will be a nasty set of repairs.

I step with intent to put as much distance between me and the base and me as possible, but I only manage a few steps before my vision starts to blur. Spare hand coming up to grasp my head, hoping I can shake it off. I try again but the feeling intensified.

My optics tilt down and readjust to focus on the wound and, whoa, that’s a lot of energon. One of my fuel lines must have been hit, that was…not ideal.

My audio receptors pick up approaching footsteps from behind me. Pulling out my blaster I whipped around, pushing aside the seizing pain enough to vaguely aim. Was one of the scouts I detected earlier close? If it was a lone autobots I could take him! I won’t go down without a fight! Count on it!

I pan my blaster over the area, waiting for whoever was stalking me to show their faces so I could put a bulletproof in their head. Moments stretched on and my irritation grew.

“Show yourself coward!” I shout, which might not be the smartest move. There was no confirmation I’d been located but now it was announced.

With no one answering my demand I started to hope I was just hearing things, but the shifting of stones sounded nearby. In a flash I whipped around and aimed, but that’s as far as I got. A second later my vision dulled back to blur, head growing light.

I don’t remember falling, but I do remember the sight of a bot with a red and white frame approaching before blacking out in my own energon spill.

Chapter Text

(FirstAid)

“Cycle 702-5” Experiment Hazards

Another decepticon asset crumbled to atoms by the fearsome Wreckers. The gang that makes the DJD look like pushovers.

When attempts to construct another decepticon testing facility reached the ears of our top communicators, the Wreckers sprang into action. The brave leader, Springer led his troops to deal with the problem. Within minutes of arrival the walls were painted with decepticon energon and new trophy heads lined the hallways. The wreckers mark carved into the wall by the tip of Impactor’s—

“FirstAid are you even listening?!”

Whoops. FirstAid’s gaze quickly returned to the monitor in front of him, his optics catching Ambulon’s annoyed gaze on the screen. His mentor shared the larger screen space with Ratchet who was online from Cybertron while Ambulon hailed from Delphi.

FirstAid was certain he saw another piece of paint peel away from Ambulon’s frame with how much tension his mentor was holding. Biting back any sassy comments trying to sneak out, he didn’t want to earn a demotion.

“I’m listening Ambulon.” FirstAid responded while carefully slipping the data pad he’d been reading into a drawer. The last thing he needed was his superiors finding out that he had been reading instead of paying attention to their conversation.

Ambulon arched a brow, “really? What did I just say then?”

Scrap…

Times like this he was glad his face was hidden behind his visor and mask. So the nerves rising up weren’t transparent. Not that it mattered because his words had caught. “Uh…”

Ratchet intervened, “relax Ambulon, the kid is just focused on his assignment. That’s all.”

“Doesn’t justify a disregard for my teaching.” Ambulon shot back, going on to grumble something about not allowing this mission in the first place.

“Don’t start that again, we’ve been over this Ambulon.”

“A pacifist assigned to a base currently targeted by decepticons? Yes Ratchet, brilliant turn out.”

FirstAid sat back, watching the conversation about himself go on like he was invisible.

Ratchet groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where isn’t targeted by cons these days? Mister, I’m assigned to Delphi, the home of the DJD.”

Ambulon grumbled, “point taken, I’ll leave you with my reservations on record.” He turned his attention to FirstAid who sat straighter. “Check in on time and mind your surroundings.”

“Will do,” FirstAid saluted. Ambulon grumbled before his screen went offline, leaving FirstAid alone with Ratchet.

Ratchet waited to make sure Ambulon was gone before speaking. “I’m just going to pretend it was a medical journal you were secretly reading. Actually secretly is a generous word.”

FirstAid shrunk back in his chair, “sorry Ratchet.”

“Just do better next time.”

“At paying attention or hiding it?” He asked but instantly regretted it.

Ratchet shook his head slightly, “both.” He answered before hanging up, leaving FirstAid alone in the communication room.

With a sigh he collected his data pad from the drawer, resisting the urge to flip open his story again as he exited and made his way down the hallway.

The hatch doors let FirstAid into the medical ward, the sound of beeping monitors and filtering energon filling the silence that stretched out. The cons had backed off a bit since Trailbreaker arrived with his fancy shield. Leaving the ward void of patients to look after.

After his small scolding from Ratchet, FirstAid didn’t want to just slack off with his data pad, discarding the story on the shelf. Checking the ward for any other tasks that needed attention. The energon supply was steady with what had been mined on sight, all machines were purring like a kitten, and no tools needed cleaning. Maybe he was okay to take a moment to slack off. His optics trailing back to the data pad, but then he had another idea. Maybe he could take a small trip in the fresh air. He’d been cooped up in the ward for most of his time stationed here. Things had been busy in the beginning, coins at their most aggressive stage.

But things were quiet, and knowing the terrain was an asset in battle. That would qualify as a productive use of his time. Yes, that was the plan.

A twinge of excitement rose up at the idea of exploring alone. He’d heed Ambulon’s advice and be alert. First sign of danger he would turn around and hurry back.

Yeah that’s good.
It’d be fine.
Yeah, perfectly fine.

——-

Tracks stamped into the ground as his tires rolled over the terrain. FirstAid steering around a small crater that had been formed in one of the previous attacks. This felt a bit like sightseeing. After all, he hadn't really been a part of the previous battles, staying in the ward for immediate access to his equipment.

So far this was turning into a perfectly quiet drive. Until the sound of a copter appeared from above. FirstAid skidded to a halt and transformed to bot mode, head cranning up to the sky. Spying the copter that had lowered altitude from where it’d been hidden by the clouds. Zooming his optics, FirstAid tried to find a badge for friend or foe. Before he could find it however, a blast cut through the air, harpoon stabbing right into the copter. Making FirstAid flinch back.

That shot had come from the autobot outpost. Was the copter a decepticon spy?

His optics tracked the descent, watching the copter steer out of control and crash not off from his current position.

Warning signs were screaming at him to turn around and hurry back to base. But what if it had been a trigger happy mistake? He couldn’t find a badge so how did the shooters see it?

If it had been a mistake and he left the bot to die?…

A second later FirstAid’s wheels touched the ground and he sped off towards the crash sight.

——-

He was back on foot when he started to close in on the crash sight. Being cautious as he searched for the fallen bot, but it was quiet again and FirstAid started to wonder if he was too late or the bot had died in the air.

Clearly he’d been lazy with his stealth. Soon hearing an angry voice lash out.

“Show yourself coward!”

FirstAid tensed and quickly hid behind a rock pile tall enough to conceal him. Just in time to hear a gun heating up to fire. So far leaning towards hostile.

FirstAid pressed himself flat against the rocky surface. A rock could hold up against a blast…right?

But no blast came, only the sound of metal colliding with the ground. The sound made him jump. Keeping him planted, until his courage could build enough courage for a peek.

After a breath, FirstAid peeked his head around the rocky hiding spot. Spying a bot on the ground, a harpoon wedged through his frame in a painful position. Energon pooling beneath the downed bot, staining the blaster that lay discarded close to his hand.

FirstAid cautiously moved closer to the bot, ready to run if the need arises. His optics landed on the decepticon badge carved into the bot’s chest, barely visible but certain. It made him pause.

He needed to leave, he couldn’t offer aid to a con spy!

But his oath as a medic was to maintain life, not stand by and let it fade. Could he live with himself by walking away? This con hadn’t attacked… not yet…but…

When the spill of energon reached his feet he took action. Dropping down beside the con, FirstAid pulled out his small emergency kit. Shifting through till he located his micro laser cutter. Moving closer he carefully started cutting away the excess harpoon shaft, including the arrowhead. Luckily the con had fallen unconscious so he was keeping still.

Carefully FirstAid removed the rest of the shaft from the con’s frame, the energon trying to escape but FirstAid was faster. Grabbing his soldering iron tool and got in there, closing up any breaches and severed wires with practiced hands. The energon flow soon halting. FirstAid finished with a patch to keep the remaining energon where it was supposed to be. Sealing the patch on magnetically, it would hold till this con could get proper ward care. On-site treatment was limited.

The final step. FirstAid slipped his arm compartment back and selected a couple smaller energon cubes. Using a siphon tube where inserted into the con’s arm to deliver a small boost. Should be enough to get him back on his feet.

A groan escaped from the decepticon.

Too soon!

FirstAid hastily collected up his tools and kit, scrambling to his feet and bolting away from the scene. Nearly tripping himself up as he leaped into vehicle mode. Not waiting around for the con to fully wake. Speeding off back to base.

Chapter Text

(Vortex)

Red and white frame…

Red and white…

The two colors burned into Vortex’s memory bank. Trying to sharpen the image but all he saw was that blurry figure approaching, then nothing. Back to square one.

The frustration forced out the small growl he’d been holding back. Why couldn’t he remember? He expected to be greeted by primus in the allspark, not wake up painless and patched up. And whoever helped him didn’t bother sticking around to take credit. Leaving him with the question of who and why.

Usually he wouldn’t care so much. But none of it made a lick of sense. There’s no way an autobot would fix him, especially given he was spying on their base. Opposite sides of the war and all. Unless he’d been implanted with some kind of tracker. That would make more sense, but to be sure he’d have to ask for an exam of his wound. And that was admitting his weakened condition. Weakened enough for the autobots to take advantage and use him as a Trojan horse for Intel and locations. What if he was now a live feed!?

Vortex halted in the decepticon base hallway, (yes he finally made it back,) leaning against the wall for a moment to clear his thoughts. He couldn’t become a liability. Liabilities were killed or cast out. Primus knows Onslaught wouldn’t stick up for him. Vortex wasn't his favourite team member. That title was held by Blastoff for whatever reason. Probably the way Blastoff never questioned orders and followed every order like it was the sacred words of Primus.

Vortex needed to figure this out on his own. He prayed for the alternative option. He must’ve been helped by a con instead, someone who just got bored waiting for him to wake up and left him behind.

Yeah…

Yeah! That was much better. He’d just have to get a confession. Find a red and white framed con and he’d have his answer. Everything will be fine.

Red and white….

Come on! Think!

Red and white.

Red and… wait!

Vortex face palmed his forehead, internally beating himself up for his stupidity. How could he not see the answer right in front of him?

With a newfound hope coursing through him, Vortex hurried off towards Knockout’s ward.

——-

Wards are supposed to be a place of healing. A place you feel safe. Confident that your health is the primary focus of your caregiver. Unfortunately that was a fantasy only Autobots seemed to enjoy. Because unless your name is Megatron, Soundwave, or Sockwave, (not Starscream unless he annoys you enough) you really only get a fifty fifty chance of decent healthcare.

Soundwave was Megatron’s first decepticon and holds the title of surveillance chief. Shockwave is head scientist, tinkerer of life and death in his spare time. A Megatron is head honcho. So unless you are a major player in the decepticon cause, fix em up and send em back out fast as possible. Instructions that Knockout didn’t argue.

Vortex wished they’d gotten Flatline assigned to this location instead. He at least cared a bit more about the welfare of his patients, not how shiny his frame was. At least karma made Knockout’s frame a magnet for scratches and dents. Something Vortex mentally shoved down. He needs to play this right to get the Intel he wanted.

With a deep breath he entered the ward, keeping his stance and stride casual as he searched for the good doctor.

Knockout was found leaning against one of the countertops, tools for welding scattered behind him. Medical tablet in Knockout’s hand as his optics wandered back and forth as he read. Hardly picking up the audible ques on a possible patient entering the ward.

Growing impatient of being ignored, Vortex cleared his throat. Finally grabbing Knockout’s attention. Met with a bored expression.

“Yes? What is it Vortex?”

“That’s all you got to say to me after earlier?”

Knockout arched a brow, “what are you talking about?”

Vortex waved his hand down to the patch. “I’m talking about your patch and run job. Care to explain why you just left me out there?”

Knockout placed his tablet on the table and moved closer, finger tapping his chin as he inspected the patch. “Hmm, I don’t know what nonsense you’re spewing but I’d never do such a cheap job, even for you.” He stood taller, “now stop bothering me. You aren’t hurt so shoo”

Knockout swiveled around to leave it at that. Vortex, however, wasn’t satisfied with that answer and thrust out his hand, grabbing hold of Knockout’s arm.

“Hold it! I’m not in the mood for lies”

Knockout tensed and yanked his arm free. “Hey! Watch the paint!”

Unfortunately his raised tone alerted Breakdown who seemed to materialize from wherever he’d been hiding from sight. Marching over to the pair and blocking the path to Knockout. His remaining optic narrowed at Vortex from his towering height.

“Problem, Vortex?” Breakdown asked with a menacing tone.

Vortex shrunk back, backing off a few steps. “N-no…”

“Then see yourself out, Knockout is busy.”

He really wasn’t but Vortex didn’t argue. Quickly whipping around and leaving the ward.

Silently he cursed from his frustration. How had he been wrong? That was his chance for an acceptable outcome. The alternative was…it couldn’t be… why the hell would an Autobot save him?

…

He needed a straight answer, but he wouldn’t take the same hotheaded approach. He didn’t need rumors getting back to Onslaught.

Vortex would have to keep his optics peeled, seek out the bot responsible and then-!

He paused.

What was he actually planning for when he found his mini savior? After a moment of contemplating he still wasn’t really sure. Would he thank them? Talk? Trade notes? They were on enemy sides. Barrels aimed for each other on the battlefield.

So why did he want to know so badly? Onslaught wasn’t exactly the kindest of team leaders, Megatron was … well, Megatron. Kindness was not in the cards for bots like Vortex.

But this stranger broke that pattern.

He would find out who.

He needed to know.

Chapter Text

(Vortex)

Combiners are a rare treasure of the war. Like a game of collection, the more your side had the more advantage you gained. Whole armies could be eradicated by just one combiner. A perfect mix of brute strength and firepower.

Artificial combiners had been attempted multiple times, thanks to the enigma of combination being added to the game board. But there was always something lacking. Take Bruticus for example. Artificially created with mass destruction in mind, and boy did he deliver. But the combined mind was simple, easily lured astray at taunting. Not able to problem solve over just breaking it more. Still Bruticus was an asset for the decepticons. An asset that had to be sealed away.

Power hunger has a way of infecting even the most loyal troops. And Vortex was pretty sure that some of that simple minded desire for destruction had seemed into his team leader Onslaught. Because at some point he decided that the strongest asset should be in charge. What a foolish endeavour… Bruticus wasn’t a leader, it was a tool for Megatron to command. All the combaticons knew this to be fact. Still, Onslaught led a mutiny against Megatron. A mutiny that failed.

Vortex didn’t get a chance to continue his search for the red and white bot. Because at some point after the mutiny attempt, things went still.

——-

Imagine waking up in the wrong universe, where you don’t recognize the world around you, enemies pass you on the street daily and you can’t act on it. Everything just doesn't make a lick of sense. Well that’s exactly the kind of mess Vortex woke up to.

The mutiny had been responded to, with an order to have the combaticons sealed away. Personality chips removed from their bodies and locked away for years. Thousands of years later where the war decided to call a cease fire. At least on the battlefield. The political mess has taken its place. Starscream somehow wormed his way into power as Cybertron’s leader. Starscream! Made up some prophecy that he was chosen by the titans to rule as the chosen one.

What a load of scrap!

Starscream was a scheming coward who relied on support systems and when those inevitably failed he resorted to begging till he was welcomed back as a pity case. Now he was in control of the planet. And to make matters worse the neutrals had come home and decided to praise Starscream like a king. Guess he finally got that hollow crown he always wanted.

Bumblebee decided to stand in as the representative for the Autobot’s side, with a constant whiner by the name of Metalhawk sitting in for the neutrals. Or nails, the preferred term in Vortex’s opinion.

Non-Affiliated-Indigenous-Lifeforms.

N.A.I.L

Guess the only good thing to come out of the whole power mess is the whole argument of second chances. Equality was still in argument but a decision was passed for all decepticons to be given the benefit of the doubt. So the combaticons’ chips were reinstalled into fresh remakes of their original frames. Brought back online with a catch however. A detonation chip had been administered to all decepticons per Bumblebee’s orders. One button push and BOOM! Say goodbye to your head.

Vortex, like the rest of his teammates, were given a choice. Be thrown into this strange world alone or remain with Onslaught and his growing rage against Starscream. All chose the more familiar path. Lesser of two evils. Leaving five grown bots taking crappy gigs for money and living in a stuffy home together where you usually had to sleep on the floor wherever there was space. Quite the life for the once powerful warriors...

Vortex pressed his back to the wall, letting the shadows hide him enough to be a casual observer over the current protest raging outside the political centre building. Nails shouting rage-filled insults that would barely reach the balcony above. But that didn’t seem to be a deterrent as their shouts continued. Waving signs painted red with “Autobots go away” and “Rights for all Neutrals.” Kinda ironic that the autobots were receiving the brunt of the hate at his time around.

Some decepticons had struck a bargain with Prowl to ease off the urge to detonate their inhibitor chips. Freedom of movement for crowd control. Control over the fire that burned inside the Nails. And boy did some of them have fun with their new job. Vortex had witnessed a Nail getting beat up in front of his comrades just the other day. Needlenose and Horribull taking down a Nail who spray painted one of their hate please on a wall. Quite entertaining to watch honestly. Too bad it got broken up rather quickly.

Vortex’s attention was pulled from his distracted thoughts when the shouts became more central to the ground. Tilting his gaze up to see the Nails being shoved aside by armed autobots. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker create a clear path for two other bots to make way to the building. Providing safe passage if you will.

Vortex spied the medical crosses painted on the two bot’s frames. Not surprising as the protests weren’t always friendly to the political leaders.

Vortex could pick out Ratchet pretty easily as he was the most known autobot medic. A common target with little success. Some autobots just don’t die easily.

Soon his optics moved to the other medic following close beside Ratchet, and that’s when his whole body snapped to attention. Nearly leaving the shadows that hid him. Vortex wasn’t exactly the most popular decepticon. But right now he didn’t care about being seen. He was too focused on the second medic.

His body tensed up, gears shifting and optics brightening. His fuzzy memory seemed to clear after so many years of rewinding it and trying again. Looking for answers. But he didn’t need that old footage now. Because he’d finally found the red and white bot that saved him all those years ago.

Chapter Text

(FirstAid)

“I don’t enjoy being a lesson learned, Ratchet. I called you for a reason. You!”

Ratchet crossed his arms tighter, frown deepening more than should be possible, even for Prowl’s standards. “You aren’t Bumblebee. FirstAid is hardly a student anymore. Title doesn’t reflect the experience.” He argued.

Bumblebee still looked weary of the process, his confidence seeming to diminish with every spark of the welder or beep of FirstAid’s scanner. FirstAid narrowed his optics, reflecting that through the shadows on his visor. But that was the only physical response to his irritation. He’d never purposely do a worse patch job just because the patient wasn’t fond of him. Be a pretty lousy medic if he did. But I said nothing about verbal retaliation.

“I’ve fixed hundreds of bots that squirmed and complained more than you, Bee. And they still rejoined the war effort as good as new. So can you shut it so I can concentrate?”

Bumblebee shut his mouth pretty quickly, swallowing and words that had tried to escape.

Unfortunately Metalhawk just had to throw gas on a fire.

“Not trusting even your own faction now Bumblebee?” The Nail leader said.

Bumblebee fully pulled away from FirstAid’s reach this time. Gripping his cane so tight he thought it might break as Bumblebee staggered over to face off Metalhawk. “No one was talking to you!”

“And that’s a big part of the problem Bumblebee,” he countered, speaking more in the general term. Their lovely planet wide prejudice problem. Four million years and back to the same problems. Factions, separation, government divided…

Prowl had been skulking in the corner before he joined the argument. “We’ve entertained your absurd ideas and constant complaining more than enough Metalhawk. Don’t sit there and try to claim otherwise!” Prowl thrust his hand towards the balcony. “You hear all that yelling? Violence? Those are your people down there. Nails! Not Autobots, not cons”

“I told you to drop that identifier, we are neutral! That’s it.”

The room drowned into another heated argument. Starscream leaned against the wall while he watched the show commence before him. Grin plastered on his face, clearly unfazed. He probably loved this. Watching it all fall down around him so he could ascend to the top of the pyramid and build it back up in his image.

Ratchet breathed a frustrated sigh which caught FirstAid’s attention.

“Bah! This won’t be ending anytime soon. Head home kid, I’ll handle it once the smoke clears. You don’t want to listen to politics anyways.”

FirstAid shrugged, knowing Ratchet was right. Packing up his on-site medical kit and heads out. The arguments followed as far as the elevator and even a few floors down. Sheesh…

The elevator lets FirstAid out on ground level, waving him off with a chime as he heads outside. Not feeling like this was a very productive trip after all. More like punishment for having to listen to the scrabbling of politicians. At least he was free of that now.

FirstAid expected to be greeted by a roaring protest still aflame outside, but it was worse. The courtyard had descended into chaos! Bots left and right were locked in combat, fighting against the autobots pressing them back. Protest signs lay cracked and discarded on the ground. But raging Nails against Autobots wasn’t the only problem. Seems some Decepticons had joined in for crowd control… attacking the Nails with no mercy, driving them into the ground. Energon spilled, a sickening sight.

FirstAid backed up from the fight, not wanting to be dragged into the middle of the cage fight. He was a pacifist, he’d be torn to shreds.

Should he go back inside? Alert the council? Help stop the fighting?

A spark of cracking red illuminated his bright blue visor. FirstAid whipping his head up to identify what had been thrown his way-and-!!

Grenade!

FirstAid bolted to the side fast as his reaction speed allowed. Optics wide behind his visor. Hearing the grenade break the glass of the council building door. Connect with the floor.

Too late! Not far away enough!

Someone snatched FirstAid’s hand tightly and dragged him to the ground. FirstAid barely catches himself with minor scuffed hands. About to push up but this stranger had pinned him down with their own frame, shielding him.

The grenade pin clicked free. The lobby exploding into flames. FirstAid hit the deck and covered his face. But he barely felt the power of the blast with his frame shielded by the other on top of him.

When the flames had calmed, FirstAid felt the stranger shift above him. Medical training kicked in immediately. “H-hey! Are you hurt?” When no answer reached him FirstAid grew worried, quickly turning his body around.

FirstAid locked optics with the bot above him. No, not a bot, a con. A familiar face almost lost to time.

“Vortex?”

Chapter Text

(FirstAid)

The grenade had given Prowl permission to approve more drastic measures of containing the threat. Allowing the Decepticons that had joined the area to use force to clear the protesters. Nails that had used violence were arrested, but not without a few dents. Despite the unpopular decision among the council, it did finally lead to a cease fire.

Autobot transports arrived and the officers on site started carting the arrested Nails inside to be transported to jail for the night. Much to Metalhawk’s displeasure, who had joined the scene with Bumblebee and Starscream. Their squabbling continued once again.

FirstAid managed to sit up slightly, still staring at Vortex. Asking again, “are you hurt?”

Vortex was about to find his voice to respond when he was suddenly dragged up and off of FirstAid.

“Attacking medics now Vortex?” Starscream asked with an amused grin, dragging Vortex back a few steps from FirstAid.

Vortex ripped his arm away from Starscream’s grasp. Turning to face the seeker head on. “Don’t touch me you traitor!”

With Vortex’s back now to FirstAid, the medic could see the damage from the blast clearly. There were scorch marks on his arms and back, singing the paint of his frame. But his rotor blades took the worse of it with the metal looking ready to snap if flight was attempted.

Starscream tilted his head, playing innocent. “Last time I checked I still have my decepticon badge Vortex.”

That response caused Vortex to tense, gripping his hands to fists. “Don’t play dumb! You acted like you were on our side, but it was just a ploy to put yourself in power. The second things went south, you went crawling back to Megatron. Letting him remove our personality modulators and lock us away!”

Starscream tapped his chin while his optics tilted upwards, searching his memories. “Hmm, I don’t recall recruiting any wild cards. Must’ve not been important enough to warrant remembering.”

“Why you-!” Vortex arched his arm and fist back, swinging a blow at Starscream’s head. The seeker was ready since he provoked this reaction. Ducking out of the way which left the attack meeting only air. Vortex stumbling forward which gave Starscream a chance to pivot to behind and strike Vortex in the back. Fully sending him to the ground accompanied by a grinding sound.

Vortex grunts from the impact but his attention shoots up to look over his shoulder. Red sparks behind his visor when he sees that one of his rotor blades is bent severely. Seemingly destroyed by the mere sight of it.

And Starscream just had to make things worse too. Calling out to the security team, “arrest this one too. He tried to attack the leader of Cybertron.”

The trigger happy guards approached Vortex, but before they could make a grab FirstAid shot up and blocked them. “Stand down!”

FirstAid pivoted around to face Starscream with narrowed optics behind his blue visor. “Vortex did not attack me, he shielded me from the blast, and you know it Starscream.”

Starscream let his smirk return, clearly knowing FirstAid spoke the truth but loving the conflict that was blossoming. “I saw-“

“No.” FirstAid interrupted sternly, not about to be bullied into submission. “Vortex protected me, and is injured as a result. So I’m taking him to a ward and you are going to let this slide.”

Clearly if Starscream wanted to, he could easily order Vortex arrested anyways. The guards would simply push the pacifist aside and complete the task. But it seemed that Starscream found the alternative option more appealing. Either out of generosity, or pure lack of care. Waving the guards away a moment later. “I’d be careful who you keep in company” Starscream added and padded away, bored of this interaction.

FirstAid made sure he fully left before allowing his shoulders to relax, adrenaline still fading as he had literally just told off the leader of Cybertron. Not exactly the most comforting move. And speaking of his motivation-

FirstAid approaches Vortex and knelt down with his hand stretched in offering. He’d never seen a bot or con so floored by the bending of a rotor blade, silently wondering if there was a deeper wound that brought out such a reaction.

Vortex met FirstAid’s gaze behind their visors. The air around them seemed to still, FirstAid’s hand hovering as he waited for Vortex to take it. The two of them were taken back to the day of the crash. But the present day was different. Vortex could see his savior clearly and FirstAid hadn’t run off.

“Don’t worry, I can fix you up no problem,” FirstAid assured him, trying to shrink any doubts. But any doubts trying to sneak in were cast aside. The decision was clear, clearer than the fuzzy memories of that day. Vortex finally had his chance to redo that encounter, and he wasn’t going to let it slip away. Taking FirstAid’s hand seconds later.

“Lead the way doc.”

Chapter Text

(Vortex)

Autobot wards were so…colourful, compared to con facilities for healing; if you can call patching up quickly and back to the war, healing. Nothing like the bright reddish orange wall stripes and ceilings. Majority white walls but it still seemed almost pastel in color schemes wherever he looked. Nothing compared to the darker purples and blacks of con wards, spilled energon stains on the floor that no one bothered to remove because, what’s the point when the next patient would just create a new puddle.

“Nothing wrong with a distraction.” The little autobot, FirstAid, spoke up.

Vortex lazily turned back to him, shifting on the medical bed so his gaze could meet FirstAid’s. Wearing a dumbfounded look at the medic’s statement. “What?”

“I saw how you reacted to the bend Starscream inflicted.” FirstAid gestures to the bent rotor blade attached to Vortex’s back. “I take it you might be uneasy with anyone working in that area. Distracting yourself with the room activity might help”

Vortex opened his mouth to protest such a show of weakness, but then FirstAid totally threw him off by grabbing a blow torch and flicked it on, causing Vortex to reel back on the medical bed. “The scrap?! You’re not bringing that near me!”

FirstAid sighed with a hint of irritation, like holding a blow torch didn’t actually warrant such a dramatic reaction. “Relax Vortex, I need to heat the metal in order to bend it back into place. I’ll numb the area before, I don’t need you squirming.”

“I don’t squirm,” Vortex protested sternly.

FirstAid tilted his head to the side, mimicking a raised eyebrow. “You’re squirming right now,” he countered, done with stubborn patients today. “Relax will ya, I’ve fixed blades plenty of times, I’m not going to break anything.”

“I doubt our frames are exactly the same.”

A moment of confusion passed over FirstAid, de-scrambling his meaning. “Oh, no I don’t mean my teammate Blades, I mean rotor blades. I fixed many rotor blades before, like helicopters. Unless you switched alt modes recently. Are you an automobile now?”

Vortex scoffed at the mere idea of ever choosing wheels over flight. Giving up the thrill of height and the wind passing over your frame. Leaving the ground dwellers behind as you fly in the heavens.

“Whatever, just get on with it, doc.”

FirstAid approaches again, giving Vortex a second to sit properly before he begins the procedure. Vortex forced himself to sit still when the blow torch was reignited, lowering the temperature to a blue flame. He could feel the good doctor apply a numbing spray first to the bend, then a warm tingle passed over the area, the flame thankfully not reaching intolerable levels. Once the metal reached a moldable level, FirstAid put the blowtorch away and pulled on some protective gloves to protect his hands, gripping the blade and carefully bent it upwards. Going slow to not stress the framing. Slowly but surely, the blade was straightened to the proper position, already providing ease of pressure.

Vortex heard a button click, followed by a hissing sound. Turning his head to investigate, finding that the gloves FirstAid was wearing had formed a blue coating over his palm. Small mists of frozen air falling off. FirstAid must’ve caught him staring because he quickly explained that they were “frost gloves, they resist heat but also serve to cool the metal and harden it.”

“Fascinating,” Vortex replied dryly. He had never seen such tech before; decepticon medics simply lurched the frame back where it should be and hoped you didn’t hit the same weak point again. Autobots had so much more focus on the patient’s comfort, it was annoyingly unfair.

Chills passed through his rotor blade as FirstAid cupped his hands around the bend, helping the bend spot to solidify again. Once he seemed content with the results he removed his hands and peeled off the gloves.

“Good as new. See, not so scary is it?”

Vortex rotated his blades slightly, testing the results. He wouldn’t know for sure till he tried to take flight, but so far he was happy with the results. Just not the wounding of his pride, “no comment.”

FirstAid chuckled at his response which made Vortex perk up. The medic’s laugh was so wholesome, untainted even through millions of years of war. Like he was plucked right out of the golden age of cybertron, when all bots had something to truly smile about. That innocence… how did FirstAid hold onto it through the bloodbath? And what was this feeling bubbling up inside Vortex, envy? Something inside telling him he wanted that in his life? He wasn’t sure.

FirstAid interrupted his thoughts, “well if there’s any problems then come back but you should be good to go.”

Vortex was relieved it was over but at the same time a part of him wished there was more to be fixed so he wouldn’t be discharged so soon. He’d been robbed of his chance to seek out his little savior during the war. Now he finally had his chance to ask the burning question, “why did you help me that day I crashed?”

FirstAid perked up at the question, taking a moment to search his memory files. “I’m surprised you remember it. You were unconscious for most of it.”

“I saw enough to pick you out of the crowd.”

“Heh, guess I didn’t leave fast enough.”

“Why’d you run?” Vortex asked, being mindful to keep his tone from sounding threatening. He was an interrogator in the decepticon army so his speech pattern often shifted to the default that was created as a result.

“Why’d I run?” FirstAid reiterated, “cause you might’ve shot me once you got your bearings.”

“Then why save me in the first place?”

FirstAid paused to collect his words and phrase it properly. “Well, I came across you and it felt wrong to just let you die when I could help.”

“I was the enemy,” Vortex countered.

“I’m still a medic.”

“On the opposite side.”

“I’m a pacifist.”

“Try again.”

FirstAid crossed his arms in frustration, “why are you fighting my reasoning?”

Vortex pushed off the table and faced off with the medic. Despite them being the same height physically, FirstAid felt small at that moment.

“Because I don’t believe you. Why would an autobot pacifist give a dam about what happens to a decepticon warrior, a combaticon no less. You fixing me could’ve led to countless other deaths on your side. There was no possible viewpoint that said fixing me was a good idea. So, why did you save me?”

FirstAid let the silence stretch between them as he listened to Vortex’s words. Only finding his voice a minute later. “I don’t believe in fighting, I don’t believe in killing, and I don’t believe in doing nothing when I can save the life of a bot. Not an autobot, not a decepticon, combaticon, miner, warrior, medic, whoever. It doesn’t matter to me. I saw a patient that day, and chose to do what a medic is sworn to do.”

The clarity of FirstAid’s words took Vortex back a step, still struggling to believe it but it was hard not to. He sensed no lies, and trust me, Vortex knew when bots were lying. He’d seen enough as an interrogator to know the difference. So now he was left with a truth he didn’t want to believe. It was hard to accept after he’d been groomed to believe otherwise during the war.

“Vortex, you alright?”

Vortex’s gaze met FirstAid’s again, having tilted his head to the floor during his internal monologue. Looking at FirstAid, he saw a puzzle he didn’t have the skills to solve. An unexplained innocence that he’d thought impossible.

“Vortex?”

Vortex turned away from FirstAid, hands clenched to fists, but not in the way of anger.

“Thanks for the fix doc, be careful out there,” is all he said before he was out the door, forcing himself not to look back.

Chapter Text

(FirstAid)

“So what was the point of that whole performance if you weren’t even going to follow through and leave?” FirstAid asked with a cheeky grin. Eyes landing on the helicopter bot leaned against one of the ward building pillars.

Vortex gave a huff and avoided optical contact with the medic calling him out. Muttering something FirstAid couldn’t quite make out. Taking a second to look at his internal clock before continuing. “Have you been standing around out here for two hours?”

Vortex let out another huff before standing straight and coming over to meet FirstAid halfway. Looking rather embarrassed to be caught standing out in the open. “I realized I still owe you.”

“How’s that? You already saved me from the grenade.”

“Yes but then you fixed my rotor blade,” Vortex countered, gesturing to the repaired blade behind him. “So now I owe you again.”

FirstAid watches with crossed arms while Vortex states his case, finding this situation rather amusing. A decepticon interrogator waiting hours just to prove he still owed an autobot medic a favor. That’s what it boiled down to in the end.

Once Vortex seemed finished, said medic answered. “Okay, so you waited out here to tell me. I’m going to assume there’s a follow up idea on how to get yourself off the hook by paying me back. So?”

Vortex crossed his arms, hands clenched around the framing of his arms. His visor facing the medic but it was obvious that Vortex had his gaze tilted at the floor as he voiced his idea. “It’s like I said, it’s not the safest on the streets right now with all the protests and grenade throwing. So let me escort you home.”

FirstAid wasn’t expecting such a request, not that it was phrased as a request. More of a demand really. But he found it rather easy to form an answer. “Sure, that would be nice.”

——-

Luckily, no one was throwing grenades in their path as the pair moved through the city on foot. They could’ve travelled in alt modes, but that would create distance. And there was much FirstAid wanted to talk about. He didn’t fully understand Vortex’s actions. It just wasn’t what you’d expect from a decepticon, even if FirstAid didn’t like to fall into faction stereotypes, there were some shared traits you couldn’t always ignore. Decepticons being deceptive was kinda a big one.

It was clear Vortex wasn’t going to break the silence that had stretched out between them, so it was up to FirstAid. “So what compelled you to hold onto the idea of ‘owing’ me for so long? I mean the first one.”

Vortex’s visor lifted to meet gazes, taking a moment before answering. Well…sorta answering with his own question. “You think me incapable of holding onto such things?”

“Well, it just doesn’t seem like something a decepticon- a combaticon would hold onto.”

Vortex’s shoulder slumped in defeat. “Drafted into the team, not my first pick….my only pick actually.” He admitted.

FirstAid wasn’t surprised by that. Megatron didn’t much care about fairness among his ranks. From what the autobots had gathered through intel, mostly deserters like Drift, Megatron’s decision was law and final. You don’t like it? Then die.

“Yet you live with your team, don’t you?” FirstAid had always known combining teams to stay relatively close to each other. Probably a side effect of the Enigma. Being that deeply in sync when combined was like nothing else. Combining was a form of trust, sharing mind and body. How can you not want to share residence after such a deep connection? FirstAid still lived with his team, so why wouldn’t Vortex?

“Yeah, but it’s not always sunshines and rainbows” Hinting at something deeper underneath that statement.

“Hmm,” FirstAid said. “Okay, but you didn’t answer my first question.”

The helicopter grumbled and crossed his arms. Probably hoping the little medic had just let the question slip away instead.

“I’m sure any con deserter would agree that it’s not all buddy buddy on the decepticon side of the war. It’s always been every bot for themselves, but that can get….depressing. Feeling like you have to watch your back even in your own base.”

Vortex would hesitate, FirstAid suspecting the helicopter didn’t know how he wanted to word it. But he did eventually find his voice again.

“I was on that spy mission as a punishment for poor performance. Everyone knows helicopters aren’t stealthy alt modes. They expected me to get caught, and were content to leave me to crawl home myself.” Vortex paused to return his gaze to FirstAid, since his optics had been wandering the streets around them. Needing distractions to focus. “But you decided to help me. Even though I was the enemy. Even though you didn’t know me. I just… it confused me but it was also…warming.”

FirstAid let every word sink in. Just how long had those words been swirling in that head of his? Begging to reach the audio receptors they were intended for.

“Well,” the medic started, “your welcome.”

That threw Vortex back into silence, probably needing a moment to process. FirstAid allowed him his silence as they continued along the path. FirstAid leading the way, using subtle shifts in direction to guide them without actively engaging in conversation again. Honestly the silence was nice, with added company of course. The war of protests was a constant noise one might easily become weary of. Go go go with no time to process or react responsibly. He saw it in the leaders themselves during his visit. Too busy holding guns to each other to actually see the damage outside.

It wasn't too much longer before they reached their destination. A larger house squished into the area. A couple different entrances including a landing pad on the flat roof to accommodate Blades.

FirstAid tools step towards the stairs leading up before tilting his head back to Vortex. “Thanks for the escort,” he said. But he also took note of Vortex’s uneasy stance, almost nervous. FirstAid wondered if the con flyer wasn’t ready to go home yet. Working off that assumption, FirstAid added an offer.

“Would you like to come in for a glass of energon? Meet the team?”

Surprisingly, Vortex didn’t even hesitate to say “yes.”

Chapter Text

(Vortex)

Well….staring down the barrel of a blaster is about the welcome Vortex expected. Walking into a room full of autobots, what else should he expect? But four blasters aimed at his head? Now that was a bit extreme.

Vortex put his hands up in surrender as Hotspot shoved his blaster closer to his head. But the protectobots’ leader was addressing his teammate instead of the decepticon in the room.

“FirstAid, would you kindly explain why there’s a decepticon in our home?!”

FirstAid pushed himself between the raging team leader and Vortex, pretty brave considering a gun was mixed into the standoff, but the medic was probably confident that he wouldn’t be shot by his team leader. Still, it was reckless to come to the defence of a con.

“Whoa! Lower the blaster Hotspot, there’s a good reason for this.”

“And what possible reason is that? He’s from our rival team,” Hotspot countered. The gun lowered but still gripped firm. Battles raged in the war had often pitted Defensor against Bruticus, the combiners of the two factions and the collective force of each team of five bots. Why wouldn’t the autobots create their own when they first experience the power of a combiner on the battlefield.

FirstAid crossed his arm with an annoyed expression stuck on his face. “Try saving my life from a grenade. One of the protesters got a bit heated and chucked one, Vortex pushed me out of the way.”

Putting words to the event seemed to calm the fire in Hotspot, and the rest of his team who had been standing in wait behind him. The light of their blasters fizzling to a cool.

Hotspot tilted his gaze over to a dress Vortex himself. “This true?”

Vortex quickly nodded, not wanting to test the protectobot leader, Hotspot was a brave fighter in the war but also, autobot leaders for combining teams were notoriously known to be protective of the bots under their command. A black and white comparison to the cannon fodder views of decepticons. Of course, a con’s unique ability to combine was an added value, but at the end of the day they weren’t friends. Just…necessary components.

“It was the least I could do to repay FirstAid.”

Hotspot crossed his arms. “Repay?”

Vortex expanded his answer. “During the war I was shot down and bleeding out. FirstAid fixed me. It took awhile to put hazzy color to frame but I have my answer now. So it was only fair that I return the favour.”

Hotspot looked between the pair, probably contemplating whether he should shoot anyways. But soon enough his shoulders released the tension and slumped with ease. Stashing his blaster away to the clip on his back. “Thank you for protecting our teammate. In return I will accept you as our guest.” Then Hotspot held out his hand in offering. The gesture caught Vortex off guard, but he forced himself to accept and shake Hotspot’s hand.

FirstAid beamed a smile which made heat rush to Vortex’s cheeks. The flyer quickly averted his gaze till it cooled and cleared his throat. “Thanks for having me.”

Hotspot’s tone did a one-eighty and perked up, like he wasn’t holding a blaster to Vortex’s head a moment ago. “Just in time to. We were about to head out back for a game of ‘SSBB.’”

Vortex’s gaze found FirstAid’s, demanding an explanation. The medic chuckled behind his mask but thankfully explained that it stands for, “Shoot Shoot Bang Bang. It’s a game, all the rage among teams right now. Heard some scavengers made it up and it kinda spread out from there. It’s a lot of fun.”

There was that lovely word…fun…leisure and peace. Like a foreign language, especially for Decepticons who had been molded to serve conflict and chaos. But you know what, maybe this was his chance to start fresh. He had the favour of this little medic, the bot that saved his life. And for once he wasn’t slaughtering home to a broken team. He was a guest in this home, invited to partake in activities that were promising a good time. So to hell with it, he was going to enjoy himself. Looking back at Hotspot with a hidden smile under his mask. “Bring it on.”

————-

The team, plus one, had made their way outside. Turns out the protectobots had a nice area of metallic forest near their home. Cybernetic plant life colouring the forest on the ground level while reflecting trees provided the perfect location for a little team exercise.

Boundaries of the game were logged in their gps’ and each player was handed a pistol. Not loaded with live rounds, but harmless arrow darts that would stick to a bot’s frame. Rules were simple, set a timer for 30 minutes, whoever has the least amount of darts on them wins. Simple enough.

Hotspot counted them down and they seperated, given a 5 minute window to create distance and build a strategy for themselves. They were welcome to form pairings but no more than two were allowed for the sake of fairness.

Vortex kept his dart gun held up and ready to use. His team had never been one for stealth, no combiner team was really. Why use stealth when you can combine into a massive threat? But Vortex did know how to defend against an ambush, already expecting the autobots to team up in pairs. Take some pent up energy out of the lone con. He was surprisingly hopeful they might team up against him, despite it putting him at a disadvantage he was enjoying the thrill of a hunt again. It was only a darts game but for the first time in a while he had to watch over his shoulder, mind his ammo, keep his steps light, track for enemies, just like back in the war.

However, Vortex must’ve been losing his touch, because the second the five minutes were up a dart flew through the air and stuck right to his shoulder. One point against him. Vortex whipped around to the origin of the shot and found that sneaky medic looking way too proud of himself.

“Gotta pay attention!” FirstAid piped as he took off towards escape.

Vortex quickly raised his dart gun and shot for the medic but the dart fell short. He couldn’t believe that little autobot snuck up on him. How did he not notice? Regardless of how, Vortex took after FirstAid, chasing him through the metallic trees. You’d think a red and white frame would be easy to follow in the silvery forest, but somehow the medic slipped out of view. Vortex halted his steps and did a circle in place. Nothing red came into view and Vortex silently cursed. A well timed curse that echoed at the same time that another dart stuck to his frame. “What the scrap!?”

Vortex whipped back and forth until he finally spotted the little medic trying to escape again. He gave up trying to catch on foot, leaping into the air and flying ahead until he was dropping in front of the medic’s path. Which ended up not being the smartest move because that left no time for FirstAid to stop, ending with the two bots colliding together and tripping to the ground with an audible thump.

Vortex groaned as he tried to get up but found that he was trapped by the medic that had fallen on top of him and was now pinning him down. Their optics met behind vizor when their heads tilted and Vortex could swear he saw hints of a blush hidden underneath. Vortex couldn’t stop the heat rising to his face and prayed the medic couldn’t pick out the same, quickly clearing his throat. “Sorry.”

To his surprise FirstAid just started to laugh. “Bit extreme, don't you think?” He asked while rolling off the con and getting to his feet.

Vortex found his own footing and dusted himself off. “Yeah maybe,” he agreed, “I thought you weren’t practiced in shooting and sneaking.”

“I learned a bit with stun shooting. For defence of patients. Before I went full pacifist.” FirstAid explained.

Vortex perked his attention, “you weren’t always a pacifist?” He assumed the medic held that belief from the start.

FirstAid shrugged, “it had to be learned. Not easy when war breaks out.”

“Huh…” Vortex took a moment to best reply. “Well I guess that makes you stronger than most, holding onto your ideals that long.”

His answer brought FirstAid to a momentary pause and Vortex started to fear he’d said the wrong thing. Not wanting to offend the autobot. But here’s the thing about having a team that mainly wears visors, and when you wear one yourself; you get good at reading what different shifts in shadows and highlights mean. And right now FirstAid’s visor was brightened softly with a shyness.

“Thanks Vortex,” FirstAid finally replied.

Now Vortex’s face was really heating up, so much so that he was worried his fans would have to kick in and give him away. Quickly seeking another distraction. “Uh, hey how about we team up to get the others?” He asked to quickly change the subject to something still relevant.

Firstaid nodded, thankfully not arguing the change. “Sounds good to me.”

Vortex couldn’t help the smile that formed under his mask, excitement returning as he waved FirstAid to follow as they ventured back through the trees to seek out the rest of the targets.

————

In the end it was actually both Vortex and FirstAid that lost with a tie of twenty darts each. The pair had been doing alright but foolishly let themself be led into an ambush worthy of that old human film “Jurassic Park.” Hotspot had used himself as bait, playing the decoy while Blades had pelted them with darts from behind. Wasn’t long before Hotspot joined in and left the team with darts sticking to them head to toe.

They chose to accept the loss without soreness. How can you be mad at a clever trap like that?

The night finished with some shared energon which had them all admitting way to many embarrassing stories from during the war and after. It was the first real time that Vortex got to relax and enjoy time with other bots in a casual setting, especially FirstAid, who he shared a seat with for the rest of the evening. Feeling completely comfortable beside him and the feeling had appeared mutual. Even the rest of his protectobot team seemed more at ease with a past rival in their home.

It was a disappointment when the evening came to a close and Vortex accepted that he needed to go back home as well. Saying parting to the team and little medic before transforming and taking to the sky. The autobots even waved him off which was unexpected but not unwelcome. Vortex almost entertained the idea of asking to spend the night but held the idea back. Something he was regretting now because he knew that once he was home himself, he was in for a complete one-eighty.

Chapter Text

(Vortex)

Let me ask you something, if you’d just arrived home from a long flight and heard crashing sounds from inside, would you rush in all worried? Probably. But not Vortex, who was used to the sound of something breaking whenever he approached the door to their ‘home sweet home.’ If you can call some abandoned house barely holding together a home. Even with a literal decepticon as the leader of Cybertron, his fellow soldiers were forced to scrap by with second hand homes and little energon, especially for a team of five sharing between themselves... Okay so sharing is a bad description. Fighting over the last sip was a better picture.

Vortex entered the code for the door, which flashed red in defiance despite the code being correct. Vortex grumbled and delivered a pound to the keypad, beating it into a green light, opening the door. “That’s more like it.”

His steps carried him only a few inches inside before he had to drop down, dodging the solid chair that was hurtled through the air, smashing into the wall beside the door. A huge dent left behind once it fell away, Vortex huffing adrenaline induced breaths while he got back to his feet. “Primus sake Brawl! Watch where you’re aiming!”

The tank in question completely ignored Vortex’s shout in favour of continuing his rampage of the space. Primus knows what set him off this time. Brawl was a lot like Onslaught when it came to being out of the action of the war. He got very, let’s say restless, when he had nothing to blast in pot dust or crush between his fingers.

The ever heroic suck-up known as BlastOff was trying his darnness to talk Brawl out of his rampage before their leader got alerted. Swindle was happily sitting on what chairs were left intact, enjoying the show.

Vortex came up behind Swindle with crossed arms and accusations, “what did you do?”

Swindle put his hand to his chest in mock offense, “me? Oh Vortex, Vortex, you wound me with your words.”

The glare behind Vortex’s vizior narrowed, “this isn’t one of Sky Byte’s Shakespeare poems. Use your big bot words and spill it.” Vortex shot back with his own mockery. Which seemed to do the trick because Swindle caved, not a hard task, regardless of Vortex’s history as an interrogator, Swindle was just itching to make his mischief known.

“I may have stolen his last can of Enjex and slipped it into your jab suite. He seemed happy enough to believe me.” Swindle chimed.

Brawl finally seemed to notice the returned helicopter, but only because BlastOff had managed to calm the brute down enough for Brawl to be aware of his surroundings. The fire lit again when his eyes locked on Vortex. “Finally come home you thief?!”

Vortex tensed, “Swindle you fragging glitch!”

“Sorry buddy, but things were just getting so dull around here. You understand right?.”

Vortex had no chance to snip back his own remarks, attention thrust back to Brawl when he heard basically a bull in a china shop. The brute tore through the remaining furniture as he advanced on the helicopter. Vortex’s optics widened and quickly he lunged out of the way before he could be flattened into the wall. The house shaked with Brawl’s collision with the wall that looked ready to flat out break at this point. That was definitely something Onslaught would notice.

“Don’t be simple minded Brawl! I was out all day, when would I have taken it?”

There was a momentary hesitance as the logic tried to penetrate his thick head, but it faltered and fell away just as fast. “I don’t know how you did it, but you still did it!”

Vortex outwardly sighed in frustration. How’d this idiot make it through the war at all?! Said brute reeling up for another charge when the door suddenly swung open, hard enough to slam against the wall. The entire room freezing in shocked silence as Onslaught marched into the torn up living room.

“What the scrap is going on in here!?” Their leader demanded.

“He started it!” Vortex snapped in defence, pointing dead at Swindle. “Swindle was feeding him lies to set Brawl off.”

“You left us bored waiting for you to show up,” Swindle countered. “I had to entertain myself.”

Vortex clenched his hands to tight fists. “I’m going to pound you into the dirt scrap heap!” Sick and tired of Swindle’s games.

“ENOUGH!” Onslaught shouted, shaking the room back into silence. “Put your pathetic squabbles to rest and get ready for departure!” He tacked on the order and retreated back into the room.

Vortex huffed, but at least Brawl had been disarmed from his revenge rampage. The calm allowed his question to slip to the front of his mind. Moving over to BlastOff instead since he was done talking with Swindle. “Where exactly are we going?”

BlastOff crossed his arms over his chest lightly. “If you were here on time you’d know, but we’re going to meet with Soundwave.”

——-

“Feels like old times, doesn’t it?” Vortex commented, his elbow leaning on the rim of one of Astrotrain’s windows. Still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Soundwave was able to build such an operation with the autobots cracking down on security. Not to mention the fact that Astrotrain was able to just swoop in and pick them up. Swooping the team into space within the crowded confines of his haul. All that was missing was the triple changer complaining about lugging too much weight, in this case that would be courtesy of Onslaught and Brawl who weighed the most on the team.

BlastOff had torn himself away from staring at Onslaught dreamily to come over and answer Vortex’s comment. “Soundwave is nothing if not resourceful. There’s a reason he was a top end decepticon.”

“Was?” Vortex asked, baffled. “He always will be. What does Onslaught want to talk to him about anyways?”

BlastOff shrugged his boxy shoulders, “Not too sure myself.”

“Seriously BlastOff? You expect me to believe you haven’t been given the VIP briefing?”

“And that’s supposed to mean, what, exactly?” BlastOff inquired.

Vortex crossed his arms as he leaned back against the frame of their transport. “We all can see it BlastOff, we’re not stupid. You’re top of the trust list in the team. Onslaught uses you like an advisor.”

BlastOff’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but quickly tried to shift the perspective. “Not true, the rest of you just don’t give a dam. And where exactly were you today?” He added, trying to shift the conversation away from their leader. But Vortex wasn’t going to play the interrogation game with the flyer.

“Out. I was out.”

BlastOff looked ready to try and steal Vortex’s role in the team and put him through the paces of an interrogation, but time to do that was stolen when Astrotrain’s voice echoed through the ship. “Approaching the station now, prepare for landing.”

——-

Not gonna lie, the place is nice. Soundwave had secured an entire space station for his new decepticon dream. Floating around the vicinity of one of cybertron’s moons, the gravitational pull kept it from drifting too far from the moon’s shadows. Shiny as a new dime inside and out, the hallways busy with plenty of decepticons who had taken to calling the station home. Vortex recognized a few familiar faces as the team followed their guide. Taking them through the sights of their operation before weaving them around to the meeting room, where Soundwave was waiting, but he wasn’t alone.

Vortex peeked around his leader to get a better look at the autobot standing beside Soundwave. A green autobot with a frame that suggested a space-favouring alt mode, though, his name escaped Vortex despite the autobot being familiar. The absent piece in the puzzle was definitely going to bug him. Hopefully Soundwave would mention it aloud so he could log it to memory. However, a question was still in the air. What the heck was an autobot doing here? Something about how close they were standing raised suspicions, the kind he never thought he’d have about Soundwave of all bots. Clearly he wasn’t alone in his confusion.

“What is an autobot doing here?” Onslaught demanded. “I thought we were meeting privately.”

“Correction, you and I are meeting separately. Cosmos was tasked to report findings, resulting in his presence. It was a momentary delay.” Soundwave explained in his echoey tone. Gesturing calmly towards a connecting door. “Onslaught, if you will join me inside. Your team can wait out here while we discuss the matter you have plagued me with.”

Onslaught grumbled something under his breath but ultimately followed Soundwave inside for their private meeting.

Looks like the rest of them were just along for the ride…

Vortex sighs in frustration at the waste of time when he could be back home recharging. Instead he was being dragged around Onslaught’s campaign of bold and reckless ideas. Much as Vortex hated to admit it, the autobots won the war and would probably keep on winning despite whatever fragmented hits the decepticons threw at them. Trying to fight a losing battle got tiring.

Vortex’s thoughts began to wander back to FirstAid. Thinking of how much he enjoyed just listening to the medic speak, the way his visor glowed when he got excited…an idea suddenly sparked in his head. Maybe this was a golden opportunity to get some clarity on some unanswered questions. Mainly, was it possible for this feeling to go further?

His optics searched the room for Cosmos, now that he knew his name, but the autobot was gone from the room. Guessing he had left into the hallways, Vortex slipped away from his team and retraced his steps back into the station. There, he glimpsed the green frame ducking around the corner. Picking up the pace, Vortex chased him down, rounding the corner only to be met by the growl of sharp teeth. Vortex skidded to a halt, hands coming up in mock surrender, his eyes fixed on the panther cassette blocking his path, “easy Ravage, I’m not looking for trouble.”

“Then why are you following me?” A new voice asked, belonging to Cosmos who came up behind Ravage. Kneeling down to pet the cassette, which miraculously, Ravage allowed. This definitely was of note for his suspicions.

“I actually wanted to ask for your advice, er, Cosmos right?”

Cosmos seemed to perk up when Vortex remembered his name, clearly that didn’t happen often. The autobot standing taller. “About what?”

Oh great, now he actually had to find the best way to word this, not expecting the autobot to agree so easily. “Oh, right…I wanted to ask about, well…” Vortex took a breath. “Let me try again. Are you and Soundwave, y’know, together? Like together, together?”

His question clearly caught Cosmos off guard cause it took a good few seconds before he answered. “Oh, yeah we are.” And such a straight forward answer too.

Vortex caught his own fist in his hand, “so it is possible then.” He blurted out, unable to catch his words in time.

“Possible? You mean a con and a bot being together?” Cosmos interrupted, clearly forming an amused smile behind his mask, “Are you interested in an autobot?”

Vortex didn’t like his intentions being so easy to read, but he guessed that chasing an autobot down the halls was already out of character enough. He may as well come out with it, not like he could hide it forever. Better Cosmos than his team of autobot-hating-cons.

“Yeah okay, you got me. Just don’t go spreading it around….please.” Wow that felt weird to say aloud.

Cosmos jumped straight to curiosity, leaning forward slightly, “so who is it? A flyer?”

Should he be spilling names?… “A medic actually.”

“Ratchet? Cause isn’t he like, a little old?” Cosmos asked, trying to maintain respect for the relic.

Vortex quickly shook his head, “no no, not him. It’s-“

“-Pharma?”

“No.”

“Flatline?”

“Flatline is a con Cosmos.” Vortex reminded him.

“Okay right, Fixit?”

“No it’s- none of those. It’s FirstAid okay, FirstAid.”

Cosmos blinked at him, completely baffled. “The pacifist?”

Vortex’s shoulders slumped, “yes, him.”

“I guess opposites do attract after all.” Cosmos teased, apparently not holding much fear around testing the limits of cons. Must’ve been around Soundwave longer than he thought. It wouldn’t actually be that hard for the autobots most forgettable soldier to sneak away, and no one would question where Soundwave was going with how high rank he was. For all Vortex knew, the two could’ve started forming a bond during the war, even if it felt unlikely. About as unlikely as a decepticon interrogator falling for a total pacifist.

“I guess so.” Vortex let his internal barriers fall away. “Look, I don’t know how to approach this and I can’t talk to my team about it. They’d beat me into the ground for such pursuits. So I guess what I’m asking is, will you be my audio receptor for a bit? And maybe offer some input?”

He braced for a refusal, but to his complete surprise, Cosmos nodded. “Sure, happy to help.”

——-

After a long winded conversation, Vortex was walking back to the meeting room, his steps somehow feeling lighter. Clearly a contrast to the energy of the room. Onslaught marching right past him at the same time he stepped inside, looking completely pissed.

“You’ll regret this Soundwave,” his leader grumbled as he marched off.

Vortex looked back to where Soundwave had emerged, arms crossed loosely over his tape recorder chest. The rest of his team already hurrying to catch up to Onslaught. Vortex shared a fixed gaze with Soundwave, only the two of them left in the room.

“You have changed, since the war.” Soundwave observed.

Apparently it was more obvious than he realized. His arms opening to gesture the entirety of the station, “what’s the dream here? Peace for decepticons?”

“Exactly.”

Vortex paused, his arms falling back to his sides, thought swirling in his head. “…are new members welcome.”

Soundwave kept his gaze fixed on the helicopter, “do you wish to be welcomed?”

A deep breath passed throughout Vortex’s frame. His answer felt more certain than he had felt in a long time.

“Yes.”