Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Out in the depths of space, war rages on. Two spaceships twisting around space debris, one closely trailing behind the other, trying to catch up, their battleships’ arsenal firing at each other. Red and purple, Autobot and Decepticon. The Decepticon ship fires a shot into one of the Autobot ship’s thrusters, causing an explosion which slows the ship down, letting the Decepticons catch up.

The Combaticons ready themselves for battle. Brawl and Vortex are excited about the prospect of killing some Autobots as Blast Off looks down at the two with disgust. Swindle calculates how he could profit from this encounter. 

Onslaught stands ahead of them, “You all ready?”

Optimus is trying to take back control of the situation, all while the Decepticons break into the ship, signaling everyone to arm themselves for battle.

The Protectobots are trying to think of a plan. Blades is happy about being able to tear apart some Decepticons, which worries First Aid a little, not wanting to fight anyone at all. Groove is chilling, uncaring about the situation. Streetwise runs through various ideas in his head for the fight.

Hot Spot clears his through to get his team’s attention, “Alright, let’s do this.”

Megatron leads his army, Starscream following shortly behind. Optimus Prime and Jazz stand guard with the others, ready to fight, the Protectobots standing nearby.

“Combaticons! Combine into Bruticus!” Megatron orders.

Onslaught and his team follow his order without any thought of consequences. As the large figure of Bruticus begins to form, the Autobots begin to panic.

“Protectobots! Combine into Defensor!” Optimus commands.

Hot Spot seems reluctant for a moment, before deciding to trust Optimus, believing he should have a plan.

No side considers the lack of space for both gestalts until the ship creaks and bends for both Combiners. A cannon protruding from Bruticus’s back snaps into the inner working of the ship, causing something to explode. Defensor tries to protect Autobot high command from harm, accidentally breaking more of the ship in the process. 

An explosion breaks open a wall of the ship, revealing the vast emptiness of space. Everyone is panicking, both sides immediately retreating, realizing how badly it had already gotten in the past two minutes. Both gestalts, in the chaos of the short lived battle, uncombine, but not before two members are sucked into the vacuum of space. Their team members' voices do not reach them.

Quiet. Still. First Aid drifts between being online and recharge, feeling his body weightless in the expanse of space, trying to grab onto something. His servo makes contact with something, alerting his systems back online, his optics unable to focus on anything. Debris from the ship slowly moves around him.

Noticing sunlight reflecting behind him, First Aid turns around, being greeted with the sight of a large, unfamiliar planet. Like Cybertron, tall metal buildings populate the surface. Like Cybertron, cold and dead. 

One building sticks out most, a tall tower resembling a space station, several giant satellite dishes and solar panels at the very top.

First Aid remembers the situation he’s in and tries to refocus his optics to let him find anyone else in the wreckage. Part of him hopes that everyone else made it out okay, but another part hopes he isn’t alone.

First Aid spots another figure in the mess, a grey painted warbuild with a red visor, a Decepticon, Vortex. First Aid couldn't care less about the war or factions or anything right now, working with someone else is always better than drifting alone in space. He tries to reach out, unable to move forward without anything to push himself off of.

He tries to call out, but no sound can be heard. First Aid picks up a metal sheet and throws it towards Vortex, which ends up moving slower than he was hoping for. The sheet bounces off Vortex’s shoulder, whose visor now blinks online, body stirring.

Vortex onlines, looking around to assess where he is, panicking a little when he finally processes the situation. His visor meets First Aid’s, the two staring at each other, just for a moment, then immediately trying to shoot First Aid, who somehow didn't see this coming.

First Aid grabs the closest piece of scrap to defend himself with, the laser bouncing off and the scrap metal flinging out of his servos at a high speed. He tries to speak to Vortex through a very panicked attempt at communicating through flailing around, finally managing to calm down and raise his servos to show he’s unarmed and means no harm. 

Vortex lowers his weapon, before pointing and laughing. It’s still silent. First Aid relaxes and hunches over, looking upset at the helicopter.

For a moment, it’s calm, First Aid tries to figure out how they could work together to get out of this situation. His comm link doesn’t seem to be working. Vortex looks around at the mess they’ve gotten themselves into, spotting something bright in the distance, something that is getting closer.

That something moves past between the two at a high speed, pulled by the gravity of the planet behind them. A small meteor. The force of the meteor pushes them in the same direction, slowly moving, before beginning to pick up speed.

The two realize what’s happening and try to stop themselves from being pulled into orbit. They keep picking up more and more speed, beginning to burn as they enter the atmosphere. 

It’s no longer silent, instead their audials are filled with the sound of pushing against the air at high speeds. 

As they drop further into the planet’s atmosphere, the cities become much more visible, ranging from entire sectors that seem to consist of factories, suburban areas, and large skyscrapers. 

Vortex tries to transform, but only halfway before he crashes into part of a skyscraper, pieces of his chassis torn off, then naturally switching back into his root mode. First Aid tries to slow his descent, but it’s too late. 

First Aid crashes pedes-first through the roof of a factory building with a loud crunch, his leg struts bending and twisting, pain throughout his entire frame, knocking him out immediately.

PROCESSOR……ONLINE

STATUS REPORT

SPARK……FUNCTIONING

FUEL PUMP……FUNCTIONING

FUEL LINES……REPAIR NEEDED

TRANSFORMATION COG……FUNCTIONING

OPTICS……FUNCTIONING

AUDIALS…… FUNCTIONING

VOICE BOX……FUNCTIONING

SERVOS……FUNCTIONING 

FRAME [UPPER]……FUNCTIONING

FRAME [LOWER]……REPAIR NEEDED

STRUTS [UPPER]……REPAIR NEEDED

STRUTS [LOWER]……REPAIR NEEDED

PEDES……REPAIR NEEDED

ENERGON LEVELS AT 64%

ENERGON LEVELS AT 61%

ENERGON LEVELS AT 58%

ENERGON LEVELS DEPLETING FAST

IMMEDIATE REPAIR NEEDED

CONTACTING AUTOBOT COMMAND

…

…

…

…

NO SIGNAL

CONTACTING AUTOBOT COMMAND

…

…

…

…

NO SIGNAL

There’s a large hole in the ceiling where First Aid fell through, light pouring in and onto the energon covered mess. The factory building is relatively large, as if the inhabitants of the planet were around the same size as the average Cybertronian.  Run-down machinery sit in silence, years of dust piled on. Conveyor belts snake throughout the building in ways that would be physically impossible. 

Cold air enters from the hole in the ceiling, chilling the building and anything or anyone inside.

First Aid onlines, having a small moment to regain consciousness, before excruciating pain burns through his frame. He screams, his broken and snapped leg struts splattered across the rubble covered floor. Energon spills out as his frame writhes on the ground, screams turning into sobs and heavy venting.  

He tries to sit up, his arms giving out immediately, his spinal strut damaged. Removing his mask, he bites down hard on his digits, hoping to transfer the pain away from what remains of his legs.  

First Aid checks his through his status report, hoping for some good news. Each line only brings him more despair and hopelessness. He lays on the ground, curling up into a ball, sobbing muffled by biting down on his digits, shutting down his pain receptors. 

Footsteps are heard nearby, stumbling toward First Aid, who looks up to get a better view of who's there.

“Y'know, I could hear you screaming from all the way where I landed.” 

First Aid focuses on the figure, “...Vortex?” he calls out. 

Vortex whistles, “And here I thought I got the worst of it. At least your T-Cog is still functioning.”

Vortex’s chassis and where his transformation cog should be is torn to shreds and a reinforcing bar pierced through his leg strut, causing him to limp as energon spills out from the wound. He looks down at First Aid, who lacks the energy to speak.

“Vortex… Can you help?” First Aid asks, feeling like he’ll go offline any moment, “I think it’d be better if we worked together in this situation.” 

“Pffft. I dunno, why should I? It’s way more fun to watch you struggle like this.” 

First Aid lacks the energy to panic, “Please? I can help fix your chassis and leg. I don’t want to die.” 

Vortex laughs at First Aid, not bothering to consider the offer.

“So? You think that’s gonna change my mind?” Vortex says with a smug look. 

Uncertain of what else he could do, First Aid thinks for a moment, wanting to understand Vortex.   

“Then what?” First Aid asks. 

Vortex tilts his helm, “Hm?” 

“If I die here, what will you do? You can’t transform in that state and your comm link is most likely not reaching anyone. You’ll be bored, right? Plus, that wound is bound to kill you sooner or later.” 

Vortex pauses, surprised, not sure how to respond. Thinking about it for a moment, he assesses his damages and chances of surviving. It didn’t particularly bother him if he did go offline, but with the way First Aid worded it… 

Vortex groans with frustration, “Urgh. Fine.” 

“Thank you.”

Vortex mentally recoils from First Aid. 

First Aid didn’t need to thank him, he shouldn’t have thanked him at all, this is barely anything, but he wants to try to let Vortex know he’s not an enemy here. 

First Aid reaches out his arm, asking for help to sit up. Vortex begrudgingly abides, grabbing his wrist and yanking him up to sit against the wall. First Aid pulls out a set of medical tools from his subspace. 

Vortex stares, confused, “Do you just have random stuff lying around in your subspace?” he asks.

“Of course, I’m required to? Actually I kind of forgot about these when I landed here,” First Aid says, laughing nervously, “Kind of makes my reaction earlier a bit over dramatic.” 

Vortex looks down at First Aid’s legs, or what remains, which are crumpled like paper, “I mean sure I guess. Anyways, how did you forget about something in your subspace ?”

First Aid shrugs. He picks up his tools from the ground and begins closing up fuel lines. 

Crouching next to First Aid, Vortex watches his servos, being way too close for comfort, as Aid closes up fuel lines to stop them from bleeding. First Aid glances from his legs to Vortex, trying to ignore the bright red glow right next to his face.

“Could you… uh—” First Aid tries to lean away from Vortex without accidentally falling.  

“Hm?” Vortex looks up at First Aid’s face, staring into his visor, somehow unaware. 

Too worried to say anything, First Aid shakes his helm instead, “Never mind.”

Vortex doesn’t move away, still having no concern for personal space. He doesn’t make any physical contact with First Aid, but it still brings an air of discomfort.

“Y’know,” Vortex says, startling First Aid, “I’ve actually done this kind of stuff before. But usually when I’m interrogating ‘bots, not when they need repairs.” 

“That sounds about right,” said First Aid.

STATUS REPORT

ENERGON LINES……FUNCTIONING

FRAME [LOWER]……REPAIR NEEDED

STRUTS [UPPER]……REPAIR NEEDED

STRUTS [LOWER]……REPAIR NEEDED

PEDES……REPAIR NEEDED

ENERGON LEVELS AT 36%

First Aid can finally calm down for now, no longer actively losing energon. His servos are shaking.

Vortex taps on First Aid’s shoulder, “Alright. My turn to be fixed up.” 

First Aid puts up a servo, “Wait.”

First Aid checks his status again, remembering how much he was bleeding out just a few moments ago.

First Aid fiddles with his digits, “You wouldn't happen to have any energon, would you?” 

“Lick it off the floor.” Vortex responds, annoyed.

First Aid looks at the energon that was pooling beneath his legs, now filled with dust and rubble, glowing—

“I was joking. Don’t actually, I don't wanna see that kind of scrap” Vortex says. 

First Aid scowls at Vortex, “ Okay . What are your energon levels at right now?”

Vortex stares for a second, his visor blinking off for a second, and then back to glowing bright red.

“74%. It was at 80% when I came back online. Been going down pretty slow, so that’s not really a problem.” 

“It’s just your leg that's bleeding, right?” First Aid asks. 

“Yeah?” 

“Ok, this might be a bit annoying for the time being but I think it’d be better if I didn’t remove the reinforcing bar.”

First Aid reflexively moves away from Vortex, expecting an aggressive reaction.

Vortex sighs, “Because of the bleeding?” he asks, with irritation in his voice. 

First Aid “Huh? Yes, it’d get worse if I removed it without the proper materials to fix it. And I don’t think anything from this planet would work well as a replacement, at least from what I’m looking at.” 

“Ah, well. I’ve felt worse, just a nuisance more than anything.” 

“Right. Right, ok.”

The two sit in silence, thinking about what to do next.

“How long do you think it’ll take before someone comes to help us?” First Aid asks. 

Vortex ponders, “Depends. Does your team care about you?” 

“Of course they do!” First Aid pauses, “…I think they do?” 

Vortex glares at First Aid, “That was a yes or no question.” 

“What about your team?” 

“None of your business.” 

“I-” 

“Anyways, I’m bored,” said Vortex, standing up, doing a little stretching, before heading outside. 

“Wait what- Where are you going?” First Aid panics, forgetting about the state of his back strut, falling onto the floor face-first. 

“Just getting some sunlight,” Vortex yells from outside, “Don’t worry! I’ll be back! Eventually ,” his voice gets further away with each word.

First Aid, too tired and in pain to crawl, trusts Vortex’s word and waits.

As he exits and is introduced to the cold air, Vortex takes a good look at the planet he’s landed himself in, the sunlight muddied up by grey clouds, the city abandoned and uninviting. Each building in the area seems the exact same as the others, all factories, in masses until they reach the city. He looks around, expecting to find something organic, but it’s completely empty, not even overgrown plants.  

Whatever the inhabitants of this plant were like, they were definitely around the same height as Cybertronians, maybe a bit smaller, considering Vortex doesn’t seem to be towering over any buildings. 

His attention is caught by the tower, looming over the planet, looking as though it reaches past the clouds and out into the depths of space. 

Vortex remembers what he was doing, snapping out of it. He’s already gotten used to the pain in his leg and manages to keep his balance as he walks around. 

He tries to think of something that might help him with repairs, remembering that if these buildings are all factories, then they must have something to help him and possibly First Aid, who Vortex already wrote off as dead in the next few hours. Even if this planet’s resources are trash, it’d still be better than nothing. 

Vortex enters one of the larger factories, not really expecting anything. 

Surprise!  

Nothing interesting! 

It looks basically the exact same as where First Aid landed. Vortex notes all of the similarities are as he walks through, run-down machinery, impossible conveyor belts, a dead Cybertronian-

“—!?” 

Vortex, startled, jumps away from the dead mech despite his damaged leg. 

“Huh???”

Vortex walks closer to the offline Cybertronian, colors long faded away, looking at it a little closer. It’s definitely a war build, most likely some grounded alt mode, being much larger than Vortex, even having a Decepticon logo on its shoulder. Vortex can’t recognize who the Decepticon is, lacking any kibble from an Earth alt mode, not that it would’ve helped him.  

It’s got minor damages, similar to Vortex’s current wounds, but not as severe, still limited only to the chassis, the transformation cog too broken to work as a possible replacement. 

Regardless of who or what or where this Decepticon came from, Vortex found a solution to First Aid’s problem, at least he thinks so. He struggles a bit with carrying the dead mech, but manages to lift it over his shoulder, nearly losing his balance, his damaged leg not helping. 

Before heading back to First Aid, Vortex wonders if there’s anything else interesting lying around, laughing giddily.

First Aid is leaning against the wall, trying not to expend too much energy, keeping any functions that he doesn’t need offline, including any pain receptors at all, not wanting a repeat of what happened when he came back online earlier.  

With his low energon levels and the quiet atmosphere now that Vortex ran off, First Aid almost feels like falling into recharge.

“I’m back!” Vortex announces, seeming very proud of himself. 

First Aid, tired, looks up, “That didn’t take lo—Wh- WHAT? HUH? WHERE DID YOU GET THAT???” 

First Aid tries not to fall back on the floor.

“Yeah, I had the same reaction,” Vortex drops the mech on the ground next to First Aid, “I have no clue who this is, genuinely never seen them before, but now you can fix up your legs and-” 

“I’m not going to take someone else’s legs!” First Aid shouts, horrified. 

Vortex tilts his helm, “Why not? You need them, don’t you?” 

First Aid struggles to understand Vortex, “Because it’s—it’s wrong! It’s disrespectful! I don’t have permission to do something like that!” 

Vortex groans, “Who cares about permission? It’s dead . Can’t complain either.” 

“But—” 

“Plus, whoever it was, it was a Decepticon , so like- who cares? It looks like it was here for—what—a long fragging time. So you definitely shouldn’t.” 

“I—” 

“Listen if you’re not going to take it, could you at least use it to fix me?” 

First Aid gives in, “Fine, they’ve probably been dead for a while anyway.” 

Vortex pulls out an item from his subspace, “Found some other cool things too, like a knife, and… just the knife actually.” 

“No energon?” First Aid asks, losing hope. 

“Nah, I thought there’d be some lying around, but looks like this idiot used all of it.”

First Aid looks at the knife that Vortex is holding, who is currently spinning it around in his servo. First Aid thinks about the dead Decepticon lying in front of him, who it might’ve been before the war. At the same time, First Aid thinks about the planet he and Vortex are stranded on, how it must’ve gotten to this state, where there’s no one else around. 

Dead, like Cybertron.

“Can I have the knife?” First Aid asks, reaching out his servo. 

Vortex stops doing strange knife tricks, “Why?” 

First Aid ignores his conscience yelling at him, “Legs.” 

Vortex gives off a smug look through his mask and visor, “See? You need them.”  

He hands First Aid the knife, who examines it closely, secretly hoping it’s too dull to do anything, while dragging the dead Decepticon closer. Vortex sits down from across the corpse, pleased to watch First Aid’s discomfort. 

First Aid takes a klik to figure out how he’ll use the parts to repair both himself and Vortex. His servos are trembling, contemplating whether it’s too late to turn back now. He steels himself, before chopping off their leg from their pelvis in one swift motion.

STATUS REPORT

ENERGON LINES……FUNCTIONING

FRAME [LOWER]……FUNCTIONING

STRUTS [UPPER]……FUNCTIONING

STRUTS [LOWER]……FUNCTIONING

PEDES……FUNCTIONING

ENERGON LEVELS AT 32%

First Aid pats Vortex’s repaired chassis, as energon begins flowing through it again, its original colors begin to show. A sickly neon green that doesn’t fit well with Vortex’s greys, but does fit well with his personality.

“How is it?” First aid asks. 

Vortex stands up to do a quick stretch, “…Little bit heavy. Still no T-Cog.” 

First Aid looks away, ashamed and disappointed in his inability to do more, “Sorry, this is the best I can do with our current supplies.”  

First Aid feels upset that he couldn’t perform his procedure perfectly, Vortex’s dissatisfaction weighing down on his ability.

“Sucks that I can’t fly for now,” says Vortex, not caring for First Aid’s apology.

First Aid struggles to stand up, his legs weighing him down much more than what his frame is used to. Stumbling a bit, First Aid uses the wall as support, then looking to Vortex with a pleading look in his visor. 

Vortex grumbles to himself in response, grabbing First Aid’s arm and wrapping it around his shoulders to use as a crutch.

“Where to?” Vortex asks while readjusting himself and First Aid. 

“Did you see that big tower outside?”  

“Hard to miss.” 

“I think, maybe, there’ll be something helpful up there.” 

Vortex glares at First Aid, “…Now I’m really upset that my T-cog's not working.” 

“Sorry.”

Vortex ignores First Aid’s pointless apology again. 

“I’ll transform if the road is flat enough, I don’t want to spend too much energy,” First Aid says.

Slowly, the two walk outside, the cold air greeting them as the sun gets blocked out by a layer of clouds. The tower stands far, far away in the distance, beckoning them, the top now obscured. 

The road ahead seems smooth and simple enough. A few pieces of rubble lie around, but still easy enough to manage. 

First Aid transforms into his alt mode, an ambulance that resembles those on Earth. He opens the back doors for Vortex to climb in.  

Vortex ignores First Aid and climbs on top of the ambulance.

First Aid, startled, almost transforms back to his root mode, “Wha—?” 

“Inside’s too cramped.” Vortex clarifies. 

“Oh.”

First Aid closes the back doors, while Vortex sits near the front, legs crossed. First Aid calculates how much energon he’ll end up using, hoping that there’ll be enough to just make it. 

His wheels begin to move them forward, the sound of asphalt crunching under the weight brings a familiar comfort to First Aid as they head toward the tower.

Chapter Text

Rubber wheels crunch against asphalt, the road becomes more rubbled, leaving First Aid to slowly maneuver around large obstacles, Vortex’s added weight not helping. The pair don’t feel like they’re getting any closer to their destination, the scenery isn’t interesting to watch either, all the same structures, repeating almost endlessly.

First Aid’s mind wanders off, wondering how this planet got to this point, why there was a Decepticon here, one that neither of them recognized. There’s no nature, but there is weather such as clouds, meaning there’s probably water. He wonders if all of the planet’s citizens are in the tower, or maybe they’re all gone. First Aid makes a couple theories in his head, but all of them lead to something he doesn’t want to think about.

Getting bored of the silence, Vortex whistles a tune, not wanting to start any small talk with First Aid. It’s a simple and childish melody, repeating the same notes again.

First Aid preferred the silence.

Looking ahead on the road, an entire building seems to have collapsed, leaving a pile of broken concrete that he would be unable to drive over, and he’s not in the mood for a detour. First Aid, frustrated and tired, sighs deeply and transforms back into his root mode, catching Vortex off-guard, who falls on the ground face first.

“Sorry. We’re walking now,” First Aid clarifies.

Vortex gets up and dusts himself off. “Pretty sure you say that before dropping me on the ground,” he complains, becoming irritated.

First Aid, takes a deep vent, tries to keep his patience, “You were getting a free ride, stop complaining.”

“mehmehmehmehmehh”, Vortex mimics First Aid with his servo, mocking his voice.

First Aid’s digits twitch, but he stays silent, moving forward.

Vortex struggles to keep his footing as they climb over the rubble, nearly tripping over each piece of debris, still not used to the weight of his repaired chassis.

First Aid keeps his balance, getting used to his new legs quickly, the added weight helping keep his footing sturdy. He wonders what could’ve caused this level of destruction, wondering if that meteor that dragged the two here caused it. Sliding down the other side of rubble, First Aid waits for Vortex, who promptly trips and falls, landing next to First Aid.

“Are you okay?” First Aid asks while reaching out a servo for Vortex to grab.

Vortex slaps away his servo, “I’m not used to having to actually climb,” he grumbles, frustrated, picking himself up off the ground. “Flying would be great right about now.”

“Mm.” First Aid hums in response, feeling more annoyed.

First Aid looks around the area, still hoping that maybe they’ll find something useful like last time. The two continue walking, still too much debris everywhere to drive on. Vortex kicks around the broken concrete.

Even when they do get past the debris, some part of First Aid doesn’t feel like transforming, not wanting to drive around some annoying Decepticon who keeps complaining. Yet at the same time First Aid knows how upsetting it feels being unable to transform, especially for those with aerial alt modes. Not being able to fly must be a miserable experience.

First Aid feels like he’s being a bit too harsh on the Vortex he imagined berating in his processor.

“Sorry,” First Aid apologizes, again, seemingly out of nowhere after standing still for the past klik.

“Yeah ok.” Vortex, beginning to reach his limit on First Aid, continues, “Next time, tell your Prime that having your gestalt combine while still inside the ship is a terrible idea.”

An emotion in First Aid’s processor boils slowly, “My gestalt?”

First Aid tries to keep his processor steady and calm, but he’s losing the energy to put effort in staying calm.

Vortex answers, “Yeah. You and your stupid team.”

First Aid tries to keep his voice gentle, “Care to elaborate?”

Vortex sighs, not paying attention to First Aid’s attempts to restrain himself, “Well, if your team hadn’t been a bunch of idiots and combined in such a cramped ship, we wouldn’t be stuck on this stupid planet.”

First Aid finally snaps, “My team? MY team? Are we just going to ignore the part where Megatron said ‘Combaticons! Combine into Bruticus!’ or did that fall fry your circuits?”

First Aid steps closer to Vortex while still staying just barely out of arm's length. Vortex, surprised and somehow not expecting this outburst, steps back.

First Aid steps forward, “I thought Onslaught was meant to be strategic and smart, huh? Where’d that side of him go?”

Vortex is at a loss for words, unable to form a valid argument to defend himself, caught off guard from First Aid’s change in tone, “We were following orders!”

First Aid continues, “Oh sure, because it’s Megatron, and clearly his plans always work out so well all the time!” he drags his servo down his face.

“Then what’s your excuse? You don’t get to complain about following orders when Optimus did the same thing!” Vortex fires back, stomping his pede on the ground.

“We were panicking! We had to improvise because of you!” First Aid yells in frustration, “What happened to being renegade Decepticons, huh? You were fine with trying to take over Cybertron, I thought your whole thing was disobeying orders!”

“We can’t—!”

—Vortex shuts up, immediately turning away from First Aid, as if something was preventing him from speaking, like he said something he shouldn’t. First Aid, anger now replaced with concern and confusion, stares at Vortex, waiting for some kind of follow-up. Vortex scratches the side of his helm, bits of paint stuck onto his digits, annoyed and tired, expecting First Aid to ask something.

The two stand there for a while, neither sure of how to respond to the other. Time flies by, Vortex doesn’t elaborate, and First Aid doesn’t ask.

Vortex’s mood shifts, as if he isn’t there right now, his voice sounding tired, “This is all a waste of time. Let’s just go. No point in arguing.”

First Aid calms down, “Right. Ok.”

Vortex keeps walking forward, not bothering to ask First Aid for a ride, who follows slowly behind him. The tension between the two is now thick enough to cut with a knife. The sky darkens, clouds clumped together as the first drops of rain begin falling down. Any kind of daylight the two had had been wasted.

First Aid regrets what he said, fiddling with his digits as the uneasiness sets in. They’re both exhausted and they have no way of getting out, no way of contact, stuck on a dead, empty planet until help arrives. Help that neither are sure will even be coming. His processor lingers on what Vortex had said before he interrupted himself.

First Aid checks his energon levels.

30%.

Could be worse.

It could always be worse.

First Aid figures they need a break, more rain will keep pouring down, it’s been a hard time for both of them. “We should probably recharge, until the rain clears up at least.”

Vortex nods in agreement, still looking away from First Aid. Vortex picks the building on their left as First Aid follows behind. The interior is just barely different from the one they started in, only now with a jumbled mess of pipes on the walls and floor which release steam, warmth against the cold air outside. There are small spaces between the pipes that could serve as comfortable spots to rest.

Vortex picks a spot closest to the corner and furthest from the entrance, still not saying a word to First Aid. While First Aid, not wanting to be left alone and still not completely trusting Vortex, picks a spot on the same side, but a bit further away from Vortex.

The rain pours outside, playing a loud cacophony of thousands of droplets hitting against rusted metal and broken concrete. The cramped space is comfortable, the steam leaking keeps his frame warm, but the hissing and whistling from the pipes makes it impossible to rest. Vortex is restless, moving around way too much and making too much noise.

Everything sounds so much louder and First Aid is tired. He stares at the ceiling, unable to rest and fall into a recharge cycle, trying not to let any paranoid thoughts or worries take over his processor. But he can’t help it.

He worries about his team, his allies, his friends. Everyone. How long would it take until help arrived? They wouldn’t leave him behind, they wouldn’t. They’d come looking for him, right? After all, First Aid is helpful and useful and a good person. The other Protectobots, Hot Spot, Blades, Groove, Streetwise, they all care about him, right? He’s a good person, right? A good ally? A good friend? Surely they’d find the wreckage and the planet. They’ll be here soon, they’ll be here soon.

They’ll be here soon.

Right?

First Aid curls up into a ball. He feels like trash. Vortex is still restless. First Aid wonders if he’s even recharging. He doesn’t want to go check, scared of upsetting him any further. He still wonders what happened earlier. The way Vortex became reserved, quiet, unlike anything from how he usually acts. How do his teammates deal with him?

First Aid wants to pry deeper, he wants to understand Vortex, and help fix any problems he might have, but he doesn’t want to intrude on his privacy. If he wants to keep it to himself then he won’t go further on the matter.

Maybe he’s losing it. Vortex is Vortex. There’s no way First Aid could ever actually help someone like him. He’s crazy. Not like they’ll ever speak to each other again once they get out of here.

As the rain calms down, First Aid relaxes. His stressed processor finally feels like slowing down, letting the rest of his frame rest, the light from his visor slowly blinking off, as he enters recharge.

He misses his team.

CUSTOM AUTOMATED MESSAGE:

“ REST WELL, FIRST AID

(( _ _ ))..zzzZZ ”

[INSERT alwaysremember.png]

Chapter Text

RECHARGE CYCLE……ACTIVE

ANALYZING NEW INFORMATION

……

……COMPLETED

TRANSFERRING INFORMATION >>> PERMANENT STORAGE

STABILIZING INFORMATION……OK

BEGIN; CLEARING EXCESS INFORMATION

PLAY; MEMORY

As I enter the Ark, the cool air circulates through my vents, a refreshing feeling after the Earth nearly got scorched by the Sun. I stretch my arms out and up, relieving my frame from stress. To think all of that was just one day. To think I’ll probably have to deal with more problems on this scale. Hopefully not. I’m tired.

Blades pushes me out of the way of the entrance, “Finally!” He drops onto the floor of the Ark, splayed out, letting his frame cool down on the cold metal, “That was so exhausting.” 

Streetwise enters, walking around me, sitting down next to Blades, “Well you did fly to the countryside and back while losing coolant and carrying passengers.”

“And I had to do it like… thrice. Oh!” Blades snaps his digits, “I should be given a medal or something!”

Streetwise sighs, “Well, no. We were all just doing our job.”

Blades groans, “Fine, give us all medals.”

Streetwise scowls at Blades, “That wasn’t the argument I was trying to make.”

They seem like they’re having fun, mostly just Blades though from the looks of it. Groove enters, nonchalant about everything that happened, like it’s just another day, fanning himself with his servo. Despite doing the least amount of work compared to everyone else, he seems like he’ll pass out soon.

I look around, everyone should be accounted for, but where’s…

“Hey Groove, do you know where Hot Spot is?” I ask.

“Nah. I thought he was following us but I guess he left to do something,” he says, before collapsing face first onto the floor, startling the other two.

I can check up on Groove later, he’ll be fine. 

With a good amount of hesitation, I go back outside, the sun setting across the horizon, my frame already misses the cool air in the Ark. Hot Spot is still nowhere to be seen. I guess he wanted to help clean up the city a bit more. Maybe I should’ve stayed back with him, I was so happy to get a break from today. 

Maybe I’m not working hard enough.

Something taps on my shoulder “First Aid-” 

“AGHFGDHJS”

Startled, I jumped away and immediately lost my footing, tripping and falling onto the ground. Looking up, I see- oh hey there’s Hot Spot.

“Sorry Aid, didn’t mean to scare you,” Hot Spot apologizes, reaching out his servo for me to grab. Helping me off the ground, he laughs, jovial and full of energy as always, “I’m assuming you were looking for me?”

I clear my intake, “Yes. I was wondering where you went off to.” I say, ignoring what just happened.

“Just wanted to spend some time alone, didn’t want to slow you guys down so I didn’t say anything,” he says, brushing off some dirt on the side of my arm.

I sigh, of course, “But also you could’ve just told us.”

“Yeah, you're right.” Hot Spot takes another look at the setting sun, “We should head back inside, I’m starting to get tired of looking at the sun.”

“ Now you’re starting to?”

He laughs, “It’s a nice sun.”

Hot Spot still hasn’t moved inside. I wait, expecting him to say something or do something. 

He stares at me, “First Aid.”

“Yes?”

He smiles at me, “Thank you for your hard work today.”

…Now I’m just confused. “What?”

“I just think you should be appreciated for your efforts,” he responds, like it’s fact.

I really don’t think so. “We’re all working hard. Everyone was putting in a lot of effort.”

“Hmm? Then what about you?”

Just doing my job, like always. “I was just helping evacuate citizens alongside Streetwise. I didn't really do much.”

He flicks my forehelm. 

“Wrong. I saw you speeding through the city, prioritizing hospital patients and the elderly. Honestly, I’m surprised, I didn't know an ambulance could drift.”

My optics burn bright with embarrassment, “You saw that part?”

He shrugs, “I thought it was cool.”

My voice box makes a noise I didn’t know was possible, “thank you..”

He pats me hard on my back, “Anyways, what I’m trying to say is that you should be more confident in yourself. You’re worth more than your work. Always remember that, okay?”

I nod my head, looking at the ground under me, unable to meet his optics. Being appreciated. It’s a strange feeling, but it’s nice. And yet, I still have this lingering feeling in my spark.

Hot Spot is right about one thing at least, it is a nice sun.

:')

CLEARING EXCESS INFORMATION; 84%

CLEARING EXCESS INFORMATION; 93%

CLEARING EXCESS INFORMATION; 100%

……COMPLETED

HIGH EMOTIONS DETECTED

RECHARGE CYCLE……INACTIVE

First Aid wakes up. His sensory functions online slowly, optics readjusting to his surroundings, audials beginning to pick up noise. Vortex shuffles around a bit, but he’s not constantly restless anymore.

He sits up and looks outside, it’s still dark, still raining. The only light in the darkness coming from his visor. He smacks the side of his helm, upset about waking up so early, upset about the memory his processor decided to play. Why’d it have to be that one? 

Thinking about his team right now is going to lead him down another cycle of emotions and First Aid really doesn’t want to deal with that right now.

He probably can’t fall back into recharge and Vortex would probably stab him if he tried to get anywhere near him while he’s vulnerable. That leaves First Aid with himself for company until the weather clears and Vortex gets up.

The memories of that day flood back, the Insecticons were ordered to attack the city and then the Combaticons redirected Earth’s orbit to head toward the Sun. Then the Autobots and Decepticons had to work together to stop the Combaticons. The Protectobots weren’t a part of that plan though, only staying back on Earth to help clean up the mess left behind. 

He heard from the others that Bruticus was supposed to be destroyed, but here’s Vortex, in a nice recharge cycle, stranded with First Aid on an uncharted planet. Now the Combaticons are all horribly loyal to Megatron, no longer the strong and strategic team they once were. Did they make some agreement for their survival? Maybe he’ll ask when they’re on the road again.

He checks his energon levels.

30%.

No change.

Standing up, First Aid decides to go outside. Feeling his way around the darkness using the walls, he walks quietly, not wanting to piss off Vortex, which is very difficult with how heavy his legs are now.

As he exits his frame immediately gets covered in water. The rain is clean, surprisingly, no pollution or contamination. He looks up at the sky, the inside of his visor blurring as the warmth from his frame creates condensation from the cold rain.

The cold rain helps in clearing his processor, cooling him down. 

First Aid looks to where the tower should be. The city buildings around it seem to be lit up, or at least, he thinks those lights are coming from the buildings. He begins to regret staring up at the rain.

First Aid hopes that means there’s someone or something living on this planet. 

Vortex watches First Aid stand in the rain, looking up at the sky as he gets soaked. A little bit dramatic. Even more so considering he was crying just a few moments ago, waking Vortex up from a fairly average recharge. 

Vortex’s gaze is drawn to Aid’s legs, colors unfitting his usual clinical whites and reds, like someone dumped a bucket of bright green paint in a hospital building and smeared it across the walls and floor.

Vortex honestly could not care why there was a Decepticon lying around, just a lucky find he supposed. But sitting around with his own thoughts leaves him with nothing to do but wonder, switching between random thoughts without any focus.

It did bother him a little, however, that he didn’t recognize who it was. He doesn’t know if he’s ever met the Decepticon before, whether it was before the war or during. That irked him the most, having something, or lack of, in the back of his processor itching away at him.

He’d probably be able to ignore it if First Aid didn’t make such a big deal about in the first place.

Vortex thinks First Aid apologizes way too often for things that he shouldn't even be sorry for. He constantly acts ashamed of everything he does, believing everything he does is a bother to everyone around him, but also switches to being more self-centered occasionally. Plus, he’s way too good at reading how Vortex acts. That one reason he hated the most compared to everything.

Vortex enjoys being a nuisance. A chaotic, patternless, nuisance. The one thing that he was able to keep throughout the war. One that no one wanted to figure out, not his team, not even himself, not until First Aid. 

“You’ll be bored, right?” That sentence repeated throughout Vortex’s processor. First Aid made it sound like he hates being alone. Maybe he’s right, but that’s not something Vortex would ever willingly admit out loud.

Not even Onslaught could ever figure that part out yet, something that Vortex used to take some pride in. And now, chances are he never will.

…Vortex ignores the heavy feeling in his spark from that thought.

He wishes he could’ve gotten some mech who isn’t miserable to be around, one who’ll just treat him like some insane individual that would stay as far away as possible.

“Vortex?” First Aid called out, coming back inside, wet footsteps trailing behind him.

Vortex looks up at First Aid, “Are you finally done brooding in the rain?” 

First Aid seems nervous, fiddling with his digits, “When did you get up?” he asks.

When you were crying, Vortex thought.  “Only a klik ago. You were already standing outside.”

First Aid relaxes, relieved, “Ok. Good. I mean- Not- it’s-” First Aid stutters, embarrassing himself without needing Vortex’s help doing so. He clears his intake, “You seem like you’re doing better.”

Vortex leans back against the wall, his rotor blades clinking against the pipes, “Doing better than you, it looks like. Did you want to talk about it?”

“No! No. There’s nothing to talk about.” First Aid continues, “Did- uh- did you want to talk about what happened earlier?”

“That’s none of your business.” Vortex says, coldly.

“Ah, well. uh. Ok! That’s fine!” First Aid gives a thumbs up but is visibly disappointed.

The two sit around, waiting for the other to continue. Neither of them say anything. 

First Aid sits next to Vortex, still just barely out of arm’s reach, water pooling around him, “I guess we’re both waiting out the rain.”

“Mm.”

Raindrops tap against the roof, the wind whistling, pulling the rain in its direction. The darkness is cut through by the light coming from their visors. Blue and red. Only able to light up their faces.

It’s calm and quiet. The pipes still offer warmth, letting First Aid relax, more than should be in a situation like this. Although, he wishes that Vortex would open up more about his feelings. Part of him really does want to try and help, it’s always nice to help others.

Vortex hates the silence. So much so he’d rather start another argument with First Aid, still better than slamming his head into the wall over and over to satiate some boredom.

“Did you have any plans after this?” Vortex asks, startling First Aid.

“What kind of plans?” 

“After the war? If your side wins?” Vortex clarifies.

“Oh. No? I kind of assumed I’d die at some point during the war so I… haven’t been thinking about it,” First Aid says, trying to hide the sad tone in his voice.

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Vortex replies, ignoring First Aid’s shift in mood.

“What about you?” First Aid asks, not really expecting an answer.

“I’d probably just follow Onslaught around,” Vortex responds without thought.

First Aid perks up, Vortex is talking about his team , “What do you think Onslaught would do after the war?”

Vortex notices First Aid’s immediate intrigue, “Something political, probably, not sure.”

First Aid scoots closer to Vortex, “Like?”

“Something about trying to lead the Decepticons?” Vortex responds, as if asking himself if that’s the correct answer, “Overthrowing the entire High Command and taking control of everything. Y’know, like Starscream, but better.”

“And you’d help him with that?”

“Well, yeah. He’d probably just keep me as an interrogator and torturer,” Vortex complains.

“Ah,” First Aid isn’t sure how he’s supposed to respond to that, “I think that role fits you best.”

Vortex pauses, trying to analyze First Aid’s intent, “I can’t tell whether to be offended by that or not.”

First Aid panics, “No! I meant that like- uh- you’re very intimidating and so I thought—!”

Vortex snickers, “Yeah, I just wanted to be mean.”

First Aid relaxes, sighing, “You’re the worst.”

“I know,” Vortex says, smug.

The rain slows down, the outside just a little brighter than before as light manages to peek through the clouds. Morning will arrive soon and the weather will clear up.

First Aid thinks for a moment, “Do you think Onslaught could do it?”

“What?” 

“Take over the Decepticons?” First Aid clarifies.

Vortex pauses, a sudden distant feeling in his voice, “No. I don’t think he can,” he says, quietly.

“Ah.”

First Aid worries he said something wrong, again. He tries to think of a way to backtrack the conversation, but fails and gives up. The two go back to being silent, Vortex staring at the ground. 

Vortex wishes he didn’t indulge in First Aid’s intrigue about his team, now First Aid will probably try and get closer, which is the last thing he wants. 

Rain now slowed down to a little precipitation, more light from out through the clouds, weather clearing up as the sun rises. And yet, the two stay sitting, not wanting to be the first to say something. They need as much daylight and time as possible, the last thing First Aid wants is to die from lack of energy. 

First Aid stands up, about to offer his servo before pulling it back to his side, “We should get going.” 

“Yeah yeah. I know.” 

Vortex gets up off the ground, his rotor blades scraping the side of one of the pipes, making a very high-pitch scratching noise.

Vortex’s blade twitches, “I did not mean to do that. ow .” 

“Are you alright?” 

“No. Never.”

“huh.”

The ground outside is wet, water cascading down from the gutter, creating large puddles on the road, filling any crevices. The sky is clear, sunlight beaming down and reflecting off of the water.

Vortex steps outside, splashing various puddles, looking down at the—

“aGH MY OPTICS” Vortex yells, covering his visor with his arm.

First Aid looks disappointed in Vortex, “I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to not look at the reflection of the sun.”

Vortex groans in frustration, “In my defense, I didn’t think it would be-” he moves his arm down, “Great, now colors look weird.”

“Yes, your optics do that. It takes only a klik or two to go back to normal, you’ll be fine,” First Aid says, imitating a calm and clinical voice.

Vortex whines.

First Aid looks toward the city, lights now gone as the sun takes its place. The view of the tower now blinded by the sun, the silhouette still reaching further up than he can see. Still so far away from their destination.

First Aid blinks on and off his optics. He sighs, “Scrap, colors look weird for me too now.”

Chapter Text

The buildings’ exterior are still the same as always, somehow remaining unchanged despite the pair’s attempts at going forward. Vortex notes that there does seem to be some different buildings further up ahead, but that’s still a while away. He wonders what a planet like this could possibly need this many factories for. 

Vortex walks with big strides, each step off the ground flicking water off his pedes, only to splash into another puddle. He keeps his view directly forward, trying to avoid looking at the sun. Vortex nearly trips several times on large pieces of rubble on the ground. 

First Aid enters a cycle of falling behind Vortex’s walking pace and having to run to catch up. He’s not in the mood to drive, the replayed memory from that day made him feel nice when it happened, but now he doesn’t want to feel competent. It’s not as if First Aid hated being relied upon, it’s just that he can’t get too confident in his own abilities or else he’ll probably become annoying to be around.

He’s glad Vortex hasn’t said anything, whether it’s because Vortex doesn’t care at all or does care to respect boundaries, it’s better than talking about feelings. First Aid shouldn’t be worried about himself at all, he should be worried about Vortex. Every time he tries to get closer it feels like he’s ending up with more questions. 

First Aid wonders why Vortex is the way that he is, wondering if something happened to cause Vortex to act like—Vortex. First Aid wonders if he could help him, maybe there’s something wrong with his processor and—

—He internally scolds himself for that sort of thinking. Vortex doesn’t need ‘fixing’, at least, probably not. First Aid isn’t qualified in any mental health line of work to help Vortex.

First Aid’s mind wanders to their conversation in the dark. Onslaught seems like an interesting character, not one he’d get along with personally, but he can see why Vortex would follow him. If the Autobots had never gotten involved then the Combaticons could’ve easily taken over the Decepticons, they’re all clearly strong fighters, so what did Vortex mean when they can’t?

Vortex seems a bit tired. Maybe he’s just imagining it.

Vortex ignores how quiet it's gotten, not wanting to be yelled at by First Aid again. Being scolded by someone who’s actually trying to help always feels more personal than someone who just hates him. Now he’d have to deal with two of them if he gets out of here, assuming he can escape in the first place.

He found First Aid’s efforts to understand him more to be another addition to his list of problems, a list that at this point is filled with random nitpicks that don’t even count as anything at all. Plus, First Aid is a very slow walker, either that or he’s actively avoiding him, which is unlikely considering what he’s been like this entire time.

The alleyways between the buildings seem more wide now, and there’s some variety in the structures. Streetlights stand over the road. Rather than concrete walls, there are metal buildings with windows, which are still painted in a dull grey color, signs hanging off the sides near the entrance indicating the buildings’ purpose. Some of them seem to be hospital buildings, Vortex wonders if First Aid will enjoy that. 

…Vortex isn’t sure why he thought that.

He looks in the alleyways, hoping for another interesting find. Nothing but dumpsters. Nothing interesting on the other side of the—never mind. Vortex runs over to the other side of the road.

“Hey, I found something!” Vortex shouts at First Aid, who now realizes how far he’d fallen behind Vortex.

Vortex stares at something in a wide alleyway while First Aid runs up to see what it is. Wedged in between the walls of two buildings is a Decepticon battleship, crashed and landed on its side at an angle, clearly gone unused for a very long time. Vortex, without hesitation, walks over to the crashed ship.

Before First Aid can say anything, Vortex responds, “I’m just gonna check out if there’s anything useful in there.”

“You could have waited before running off.” First Aid says, hurriedly following behind.

“Yeah, I could’ve.” Vortex says, playfully, giving a thumbs up. He walks toward the empty Decepticon ship.

The ship is a dark purple color, fairly small, only seeming to be able to carry a single pilot. The thrusters on its back are broken, immediately throwing away any chance of escape. The interior is covered in a thick layer of dust, control panels all shut down a long time ago. 

“Think this is probably how that Decepticon we found got here,” Vortex states.

First Aid hums in agreement, “I don’t know how else they would’ve.”

“Must’ve been a pretty bad driver to land it like this,” Vortex jokes, “Definitely from before the others crashed on Earth.”

First Aid is intrigued, “You can tell?”

“Yeah? Saw plenty of these back on Cybertron before…” Vortex clears his intake, “Anyways. They’re pretty basic to use. Makes the idiot that crashed this even more incompetent.” he says, kicking one of the thrusters.

“Huh,” First Aid drags his servo across the side of the ship, “Neat.” 

First Aid ignores the small feeling that bothers him about the ship. He can’t remember what the Decepticon he stole the legs of looked like exactly, but he swears that they were too big to fit in the pilot’s seat. 

Vortex climbs in the ship through the glass covering at the top, pushing and pulling at random seams at the wall until one opens up, revealing a small storage compartment. Inside are two glass cubes of energon. 

Two, Vortex thought, that’s convenient. “Huh.”

“Did you find something?” First Aid asks from behind.

Vortex pulls out one of the cubes and holds it up to show First Aid. “There’s two.”

“Oh!” First Aid’s expression is hopeful, as he walks up to the ship.

Vortex makes a noise of disgust as he looks at the energon, “Probably went bad around now.”

“Energon doesn’t go ‘bad’ it just tastes weird and you can’t get overcharged,” First Aid comments.

“That’s the problem! Taste is a very important detail for me. And maybe I do wanna get a little overcharged.” Vortex complains.

“You’ll be fine.” First Aid takes one of the cube and hears a very thick sloshing noise as the energon moves around. They stare at the cube, waiting for the other to say something. “I don’t think I want to drink this anymore.”

Vortex scoffs, “So now you get my point?” he asks, shaking around his cube, making the same disgusting noise which First Aid hates.

“It’s energon! Energon shouldn’t make that noise!” First Aid argues.

“ And it’ll taste bad too,” Vortex adds.

First Aid yells in frustration, “You’re not helping!”

Vortex giggles, “Yeah I know.” 

First Aid checks his energon level.

27%.

At the rate they’re going, First Aid will probably die before they get anywhere near their destination. Those types of thoughts make the energon very tempting to drink. His fuel tank starves for something to refuel it. Vortex stares at First Aid as he contemplates drinking it or not.

“What is your energon level at?” First Aid asks, wondering if he’s just losing it.

Vortex’s visor light blinks off and on, “61%, still doin’ good. I’ll refuel later.” Vortex puts his cube into his subspace.

Well, Vortex is still faring better than First Aid. He probably could’ve gotten to the tower a long time ago if his T-Cog wasn’t broken. With that much energon he could—

First Aid pauses, that can’t be right. Vortex has barely done anything to warrant that much energy usage. He was recharging last night, that should’ve paused most of his functions and reserved energon. Even with restlessness, it wouldn’t take off that much, since the processor would’ve slowed down too, doing only menial tasks. 

Something is wrong.

There’s no way Vortex stayed up that entire time, even for him that’d be a stupid choice in this situation.

“What was it after waking up?” First Aid asks, trying to hide the worry in his voice.

Vortex tries to remember, “Like, around the same as right now-ish, somewhere around that.” he estimates.

First Aid’s concern only grows, “What was it before?” he asks, trying to confirm something.

Vortex isn’t sure how to feel about the sudden line of questioning, “…A little over 70%.”

Something is terribly wrong. First Aid worries, “Do you have any unnecessary functions still online?” 

Vortex is getting annoyed, “Define ‘unnecessary’ ,” he says, climbing down from the ship, confused about the questions being thrown his way.

First Aid thinks for a moment. Pain receptors only really activate when there’s something to be ‘in pain of’, they both need their audials and voice box to communicate, Vortex’s T-Cog is busted and First Aid made sure there wasn’t any internal bleeding. 

Something is terribly wrong.

First Aid wonders if there is something messed up with Vortex’s processor. Clearly it must not be entering recharge mode like it should be, but he only knows the basics for operating on something as complex as that. Would it be wrong of him to ask?

Vortex snaps his digits in front of First Aid’s visor to get his attention. “Hey. You there?” he pokes First Aid’s visor.

“Can I look inside your processor?” First Aid asks without thinking.

“Wh-” Vortex, startled, backs away from First Aid, the glow from his visor dimming, becoming defensive, “No!”

First Aid panics, realizing how bad that came out, “Sorry! Sorry. I didn’t mean to ask like- I just meant-!” First Aid tries to explain himself, “I figured that there’s probably some issue and—I just wanted to help!”

Vortex steps further away from First Aid, his back hitting the wall, “No. Nononono. I swear. If you even think about getting anywhere near-”

“I didn’t mean- I was just worried about how quickly you’re losing energon! It shouldn’t be doing that! Especially not when you’re recharging!” First Aid tries to explain himself, worrying over Vortex’s reaction.

Vortex aims the gun attached to his shoulder, “Who cares about what it should or shouldn’t be doing! Don’t!” 

“I won’t! I won’t get anywhere near you, okay?” First Aid backs away, both servos raised to show that he means no harm, he speaks softly, “Calm down. Sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Vortex lowers his arm, mumbling “ …I’m not…”

First Aid tries to pick up on what he said, “Could you repeat that?”

Vortex groans, upset, “I’m not scared, ok? I just got caught off guard.” He kicks a pebble on the ground, “I’m not.” He scratches the side of his helm. “Never ask me something like that again.”

First Aid’s frame relaxes, trying to slowly move closer to Vortex, who scrapes his pede on the concrete. He looks at First Aid, tensing up as he walks closer, unable to move any further back.

First Aid keeps his distance, “Listen, I just meant that I’m worried,” Vortex glares at him, even through the visor his optics only show hate, which startles First Aid a bit, “Sorry. I’ll stop talking about it.”

Vortex takes a deep breath, “Good, because there’s nothing to talk about,” he jokes, voice clearly still shaking.

First Aid, now calmed down, tries to think of another topic, remembering the energon he’s still holding, “Right. This thing.” He shakes it around again, cringing at the noise.

“Yeah, the disgusting energon,” Vortex called it, taking his own cube back out of his subspace, shaking it around to remind First Aid of the sound, “Old. Slush-”

First Aid wants to gag, “Do not use that word to describe energon.” 

Vortex thinks for a moment, “…Thick?” he suggests, shrugging, “I dunno, dense?”

“I think those are too general.” First Aid notes, “Also it’s still gross.”

Vortex scoffs, “Well I don’t know what else to call it. Not like you’re going to drink it anyways.”

First Aid wonders if he can turn off his taste receptors for just a moment. The real problem is only the texture, he’s never seen energon this old before, usually being able to last a very long time. How long could this ship have been here? Clearly it belongs to the Decepticon they found dead, so it’s been here a while. 

Does time move differently on this planet? First Aid doesn’t like the implications of that thought.

First Aid glances at Vortex’s bouncing leg, stressed. “Ah, frag it.” First Aid takes off his mask and chugs the energon cube.

Vortex, surprised, watches in disgust and fascination as First Aid manages to down the whole cube. One of the more insane things First Aid had done since getting here, besides cutting off someone's legs.

As First Aid takes in the last drop, he coughs, “ Primus , you’re right. That tastes awful !” He quickly puts back on his mask.

“Pfft,” Vortex lightens up a bit, his leg no longer bouncing, “Did that help you at all?”

First Aid checks, revealing a clean 98% for energon levels, feeling like he can finally take a real break. Also meaning that First Aid can keep driving for as long as he wants, until it goes down again. Even if the taste was gross, and the texture was , First Aid’s fuel tank feels so nice, energon finally running through his lines and wires again.

“98%” First Aid sighs with relief, “I missed that. I missed the feeling of refueling.”

“Damn. That’s a lot. So I guess I won’t need to for a bit,” Vortex comments.

First Aid feels that concern from before nearly settling in, “No. You’ll be fine,” he responds, gently.

Vortex mentally takes note of First Aid’s reaction. “Good. Don’t wanna use this yet.” Vortex puts his energon back in his subspace again.

First Aid hopes that Vortex has calmed down a bit now, considering how he reacted just a moment ago. First Aid knows he came off a bit out of nowhere with his question, but Vortex’s reaction was much more than just being ‘caught off guard’. Vortex already wasn't going to talk about the other conversation, so he most likely won’t talk about this one either.

First Aid really didn’t want to upset Vortex, watching someone back away and treat him like a threat isn’t something that he’s used to, especially not from a Decepticon like Vortex. He’s not sure how to feel about it.

Vortex mentally smacks himself for reacting so harshly earlier, not wanting First Aid to start having even more questions than he already did. This is the third time he’s let more personal emotions slide out and it’s beginning to bother him more and more. He doesn’t want to deal with this. 

He waits for First Aid to stop spacing out so that they can continue, another nitpick to be added. Vortex is not sure what to do considering First Aid is also looking right at him, then a random idea pops up. He steps a bit closer, reaching his claw out to First Aid’s shoulder, and pokes in between the transformation seams.

First Aid, startled, “Did you need something?” he asks.

“I was waiting for you to say that we need to continue,” Vortex says, bored.

First Aid’s optics burn bright with embarrassment, “Oh. Sorry.”

First Aid walks onto the empty asphalt road, ready to transform and drive around. He tries not to think about that memory. Now that he’s not actively spacing out, he notices that the buildings have changed a little, signs on the—First Aid spots the hospital.

“Oh. I didn’t notice that was there.” First Aid says, “Neat. Wonder what this planet’s medics were like.”

Vortex tilts his head, “You didn't notice the building with the giant sign earlier? Really?”

“I was kind of… not paying attention ,” First Aid mumbles, fiddling with his digits, looking to the side, “Plus, you dragged me around to do something else.”

“Well- Yeah. Fair.” Vortex glances between First Aid and the hospital, “You wanna check it out?” he asks.

First Aid stutters, “Well, I think we should use our daylight sparingly, it would be bad if we ended up taking too long.” He sounds unsure of himself.

“Should be fine. It’s still…” Vortex shades his optics from the sun as he looks up, “Midday? Can’t see scrap. We have time.”

First Aid’s optics glow, “I mean- If you’re fine with it.”

“It was my idea. We’re going.” Vortex pushes First Aid toward the building.

“Wha- ah- ok?” First Aid nearly trips as Vortex pushes him to the front entrance.

The entrance is basic and blends in with the other buildings in the area. At least three stories tall with windows on the top floors, all broken. The front doors are also glass, yet they remain unbroken. The sign near the entrance has a large plus sign which most likely used to glow green.

The glass doors to the building appear to be automatic, but they don't open, worn down over the years. Without hesitation, Vortex kicks the door and the glass shatters, loud, pieces flying everywhere. The metal frame falls onto the floor as well, slamming into the glass and grinding them down into dust.

“You first,” Vortex says, moving to the side.

“That seemed a little unnecessary.” First Aid comments, pushing the glass shards to the side.

Vortex cocks his head to the side, “Did you have any better ideas?” 

First Aid stands there, staring at the door, “No.”

It’s dark, the only light coming from the windows and doors leading outside, highlighting the dust flying through the air. The interior is similar to the average hospital on Earth, a front desk in the center, seats for waiting thrown around the ground. Walls and floors once painted a clean, clinical, white are dirtied and covered in dust. Each of First Aid’s steps echo, empty, nothing else in sight. It’s somber and sad.

Paying closer attention to the front desk, First Aid notices a mess of bullet holes sprayed into the desk, the type of weapon that, with the technology this planet seemed to have, wouldn’t have access to. First Aid traces his digits over the bullet holes, the edges having slight burns. He should know what weapon this is, he’s seen it before, he’s dealt with the damage it can do.

Vortex enters behind First Aid, taking in the cold atmosphere before realizing that something is stuck in his leg. A couple glass shards from the door. He tries to take out the pieces of glass inside a gap near his ankle joint in between some wires. After a few attempts of struggling to keep his balance, which led to him tripping and falling onto more glass, breaking First Aid’s concentration, Vortex gives up.

First Aid, after watching his repeated attempts, smiles behind his mask, “Do you need help?” He asked, 

“Nah. It’s fine.” Vortex dismisses First Aid, picking himself back up, “It’ll fall out. Probably. Eventually.” He dusts himself off, flicking a piece of glass to the side.

First Aid continues down the hallways, looking through open doors to see emergency rooms, trashed and deserted, machines destroyed. It’s sad for First Aid to see the state of the hospital, destroyed and abandoned. The thought of lives that were once here now gone forever. Something happened here. Something that First Aid doesn't like the thought of.

Vortex grumbles, wincing at each step taken as he follows behind First Aid. He tries to shake off the pieces by shaking his leg but it fails. “Yeah no, can you help?” he asks First Aid, interrupting his train of thought again.

“Alright.” First Aid has an idea. He grabs Vortex’s wrist and brings him into the emergency room, “Could you sit on the bed?” he asks, “I know it’s a mattress and those feel weird but it’d be fun.”

Vortex complies. “This is your way of having fun?” he jokes, sitting on the bed. The mattress weighed down by the mech.

First Aid shrugs, pulling up a chair. “I’m getting a bit rusty,” he says, “It’s been a while since I’ve had the chance to work with Cybertronians.”

“It’s been like, two days,” Vortex comments. “Plus, you’re only just removing stuff.”

“Yes, I know.” First Aid pulls out tweezers from his subspace, “This really isn't necessary, I just think it’d be fun.” He analyzes Vortex's ankle, finding where the glass pieces lodged themselves. “Maybe this is a sign that you shouldn't have kicked down the door.”

First Aid gently adjusts Vortex’s ankle to have a better view. Finding one shard, First Aid gently pulls on a wire to loosen it, pulling it out with the tweezers. Vortex’s rotor blades do a small spin in response, which First Aid, thankfully, doesn’t notice. 

“Is that all?” First Aid asks, searching for more pieces he might have missed.

“Nah. I mean there’s really small ones that I can kinda feel, but the big one was the only one bothering me,” Vortex says, hoping First Aid doesn’t pick up on his 

First Aid places the shard on the ground near the legs of the bed, “The small ones will most likely begin wearing down your leg, so I’ll get rid of those too.”

Vortex keeps his rotors from spinning again. “Ok, you’re the professional here.”

First Aid finds the smaller shards of glass, one of them stuck between the leg strut and more wires. That will definitely become a nuisance if it stays there. He pushes around the adjacent wires, pushing the shard out. First Aid removes it with the tweezers.

Vortex watches First Aid’s movement, trying to keep his leg, as well as his rotors, still. There’s an odd feeling. He reasoned to himself that it’s just the discomfort from the glass and that getting them removed felt nice. Vortex winces as First Aid accidentally scrapes part of his leg strut.

First Aid nearly drops his tweezers. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to do that.” He places another small shard onto the ground, now becoming a small pile.

Vortex speaks through his teeth, “ffffffffhhhsss it’s fiiiine.” he gives a thumbs up as if that makes it feel better.

“Sorry. Sorry.” First Aid he repeats apologies as he continues picking out glass shards.

Vortex feels slightly disappointed by the shift in mood, still unsure of why that is. He looks around the hospital room, analyzing the damage and destruction done. He saw First Aid focused on the front desk earlier, but he forgot to check what was so interesting. 

The silence is beginning to weigh down on Vortex, needing to talk about anything at all.

“What do you think happened here?” Vortex asks, receiving another jolt of pain from his ankle in response.

First Aid sighs, “Sorry. Again. Please let me focus.” He massages the area that he accidentally poked a little too hard with the tweezers, which Vortex misses when First Aid gets back to cleaning them out.

Vortex hunches over whilst trying to keep his leg still. “Was just curious what you might’ve thought.”

“Sure.” First Aid stops, placing the tweezers on the side of the bed. “I found all of the pieces anyway.” He leans back in the chair, stretching out his arms.

Vortex shakes around his leg, no more discomfort. “Whatever happened here was definitely not just natural causes.” He sits with his legs crossed.

There’s a pause.

First Aid stares up at the ceiling, trying to piece together his words in a way that would make sense. “The front desk had bullet holes, no bullets left behind though.” Vortex looks as though he wants to add something, but First Aid continues, “That ship we found earlier, the pilot seat. It’s definitely too small for that Decepticon we found to ride on.”

Vortex follows First Aid’s train of thought, “The inhabitants of this planet were definitely organics, yeah?”

First Aid points at the bed Vortex is sitting on. 

Cushions. “Oh right. Anyways.” Vortex clears his throat and continues, “Just a theory, mainly because I… was locked away on Cybertron for most of the time, but this,” Vortex makes random gestures, “whatever happened to this planet, was probably after Optimus and his team and Megatron left Cybertron.” 

“It was definitely after,” First Aid confirms.

“Yeah. So uh- stop me if this starts sounding a little bit stupid,” Vortex pauses, trying to figure out to phrase his next words, “Shockwave probably got all lonely being stuck on Cybertron for the past few millions of years, and in need of new resources and energon, sends out some Decepticons to attack other planets…?” 

First Aid waits for Vortex to continue. “Oh, sorry. Keep going,” he says, realizing Vortex was waiting for him.

“Damn, really? I thought I was coming up with random scrap.” Vortex tries to think of something more to add, “Nah, that’s all I got for now. They needed new resources and they sent some soldiers out here.”

First Aid stays silent, staring off into space.

“You don’t seem very happy about this.” Vortex comments.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” First Aid hunches over in his chair, resting all of his weight onto his servos, “Seriously.” he groans, feeling sick.

“Don’t see why you care so much.” Vortex says, casually, “It’s just-” 

First Aid stares down Vortex, who shuts up in response. “It’s just what?”

Vortex hesitates on his answer, “Well- It’s not like you were involved in any of this. It’s not your faction that decided to bleed an entire planet dry. I mean, hey, I wasn’t here for any of this either.”

“Would you have done the same thing?” First Aid asks, “If you were ordered to destroy a planet to get resources to win this war, would you?”

Vortex stutters, “I mean, if I’m being ordered to.” First Aid looks more upset somehow. Vortex tries to explain himself, “I don’t like the idea of being on the losing side, and I really don’t want to be put back in… a cell for insubordination.”

First Aid leans back in his chair. Frustrated, he huffs, loud and exaggerated, “ Really ? You don’t care about any of the inhabitants here, the lives that they lived, who they were?”

“Their city infrastructure could do some work. Too many roads and not enough public transport if you ask me,” Vortex jests, which in response First Aid throws his tweezers at him, clinking against his visor.

First Aid gets up to leave, not looking back at Vortex.

Vortex sighs. “Hey, you dropped this,” he says, picking up the tweezers. No response.

First Aid stomps through the hallways, walking deeper into the hospital. He’s just upset, upset with Vortex, upset over this endless war, upset that he’s stuck on this wasteland of a planet, that he misses his team, Earth, the amount of help he could have been doing instead of being stuck here. He climbs up a staircase, still intact. First Aid feels betrayed by Vortex, but why? He’s a Decepticon, he tried to destroy him and Earth several times. First Aid shouldn’t care about him. 

Slamming open the door for the third floor, First Aid picks out a random hospital room, entering and closing the door behind him gently. This one is just as destroyed as the last, supplies thrown across the floor, the window showing the outside broken. First Aid looks outside, seeing the road they’ve been travelling on for two days, the sky becoming dim as the sun begins to set. So much time wasted.

Wind blows in through the broken glass, letting First Aid cool down a bit. Watching the sun set brings back the memory of that day again. It’s serene, nice and calm. This sunset isn’t as nice as the one on Earth, but it’s still an alright view. He reminds himself that it's only been 2 days, but he’s certain his team is hard at work looking for him. Then he’ll apologize for cycles upon cycles, crying nonstop. 

First Aid still wonders if the other Combaticons would care about Vortex like that. Maybe. Maybe not. The way Vortex’s energy levels dropped overnight still bothers First Aid. He should stop thinking about what Vortex is feeling, but he can’t help himself, worrying about others is all he can ever do.

Hearing footsteps outside, First Aid hides behind the window, just barely peeking out to see who’s there. Vortex walks around outside, presumably searching for First Aid, looking at the tower, before giving up and kicking the glass around. First Aid, finding it oddly entertaining, keeps watching as Vortex vents his frustrations by risking getting glass stuck in his leg again.

First Aid leans over the window to get a good view of the tower, accidentally breaking off a piece of the broken window, which falls next to Vortex who jumps away in surprise. He tries to find the source, looking up to see a very tired First Aid.

“There you are!” Vortex shouts, “I was looking for you!”

First Aid slowly slides back inside.

Vortex panics, “No- Wait!” he yells, not wanting to lose his chance to say something. 

First Aid still doesn’t peek back outside. 

“Uh- Sorry! I guess?” Vortex feels gross, apologizing for something so stupid, “For not caring! About! The— frag it —horrific planet-wide genocide! Yeah! I know it’s messed up! I should… care more about the planet I’ve never heard of!”

First Aid still doesn’t respond. 

“What the hell am I doing?” Vortex mumbles to himself, crossing his arms, giving up on his half-assed apology. 

Vortex thinks he should just continue on his own at this rate, not wanting to wait for First Aid to get over something that Vortex thought was a completely reasonable argument. He wasn’t involved in whatever happened here, even if that were the case, it’s not like he’d be given a choice. Vortex wishes he was just stranded here with any of his team members instead, even one of the seekers would be easier to deal with, maybe not Starscream though.

First Aid runs outside, startling Vortex, “Ok I’m over it. Kind of.” He pauses, “Not really.”

“You could’ve said something.” Vortex complains.

“I know.” First Aid gives a thumbs up, “I could have.”

As the sun goes down further, First Aid stretches, feeling the cool breeze and warm setting sun on his frame. Vortex waits, watching the sunset, which has passed behind a building, unable to be seen. 

“Do you want to redo your apology?” First Aid asks, “It wasn’t very good.” he jokes, in a better mood now.

“No.” Vortex glares at First Aid, “I’ve filled my weekly quota to try to be a decent mech.”

“Figures.” First Aid hides his smile under his mask. “I’m still mad at you, for the record. But I shouldn’t be surprised anymore.”

First Aid does a few more stretches before transforming into his alt-mode. He revs up his engine, looking up ahead at his destination, the road is lined with street lamps, the buildings no longer repeating into an endless pattern of factories. The setting sun creates a dark shadow on the opposite side of the tower, just barely visible.

Vortex tries to climb on top, but First Aid drives forward a little, leaving Vortex’s reach. 

“Sorry. I had to. At least one time.” First Aid says, trying to hold back a laugh.

Vortex lightly kicks one of First Aid’s wheels. “Aft.”

Chapter Text

The sun sets further past the horizon, slowly darkening the sky alongside it while First Aid drives in the middle of the road. Vortex lays on his back atop the roof of First Aid’s alt-mode, legs hanging off, watching the clear skies transition into night, humming the same tune from a day ago. 

It was Vortex, who was starting to get bored, trying to spark a conversation. “Are you still mad at me?” He turns to lay on his front instead.

First Aid sighs, “It hasn’t even been a cycle. Of course I’m still mad.”

“Damn.” Vortex kicks up and down his legs, resting his head on his hands. “Can I rant about something?”

“You’re that bored, huh,” First Aid comments.

“Yep. Anyways.” Vortex clears his throat, “Something I’ve always found kinda funny about you Autobots when I’ve tried interrogating-”

First Aid hits the brakes suddenly. “Please, pick your next words very carefully.”

Vortex thinks for a moment, “…is that you’re all so self-sacrificing. Seriously, I can’t torture only one of you because then they’ll stay dedicated to the cause and prepare to die.” 

He waits for a response, to which First Aid keeps driving at a slow pace. 

Vortex continues, “Once I tortured two at a time and it led to a cycle of ‘ No! Take me instead! ’ or just ‘ Let me die! Don’t tell them anything! ’ Awful. Worst experience of my life. Got absolutely nothing out of it and they both died so who cares really.”

“Vortex.” First Aid says in a stern voice.

“OK. ok. My bad,” Vortex grumbles, laying his head in his arms.  “I kinda wanna bring in, like, five in one room maybe, and see what that would look like. Prolly chaotic and a mess, but it’d be kinda funny. Just go in a circle and see what they have to say, who’s the weakest link, etc etc.”

First Aid visualizes the image in his processor, a little bit curious on what it would look like. For some reason, the imaginary example uses the Aerialbots. It’s not a fun image, but it does make him think. “It’d probably be Slingshot , ” he accidentally says out loud.

“huh” Vortex asks, befuddled, “who”

First Aid panics, “Nothing. Sorry. Just thinking about something stupid.” he says, feeling awful for visualizing such a thing.

“yeah ok.” Vortex scoots closer to the front of the ambulance, “You wanna add anything? Because I prefer talking to people, not talking at people.”

“Uh.” First Aid hesitates, “I don’t like talking about the hypothetical situations of people I care about being hurt.”

“Y’know what? Fair. Have anything else to talk about?” Vortex asks, rolling to lay on his back.

First Aid thinks for a moment, “Not really- Oh! I’ve been wondering—because I forgot to ask Blades about this—what does it mean whenever your rotors spin? Outside of your alt-mode.”

Vortex stills, “Why do you ask?”

“I’ve just seen Blades do that a lot whenever he’s part of a mission or messing around with Streetwise. It doesn’t seem very consistent.” First Aid responds, unaware of Vortex’s internal worrying.

“Oh.” Vortex relaxes, “It’s kind of just a general happy feely-thing. The speed at which it spins does sometimes mean something, but don’t worry too much about it.”

First Aid speaks with intrigue, “I see. I guess I could ask Blades about the speed differences when I get back.”

“Aren’t you a medic? Shouldn’t you know this already?” Vortex asks, shifting around to rest on his side.

“It's body language type of stuff. I never did any research about that besides the basics.” First Aid answers.

“Well.” Vortex sits up, pointing to himself, “My job relies heavily on small details like that!” he says, pride in his voice, his rotors spinning with great speed. “And with the Earth kibble, it makes my job a whole lot easier!”

“What about wheels?” First Aid asks.

“Wheels don’t do anything. You should know that, you’re driving on them right now.” Vortex says while lightly poking the roof of First Aid, “Most I’ve seen grounders do is rev their engines.”

“I know, I was just wondering if there was some detail I missed.” First Aid clarifies.

“Idiot.” Vortex says, poking down hard.

They continue driving down the road, the sky completely darkened, adorned with a few stars far away, street lamps lighting the roads, letting First Aid drive without concern.

Vortex looks at the city further up ahead, which glows with lights along the streets. “Hey look.” 

“Yes I see the lights.” First Aid says, still driving forward.

Vortex hums, “Thought this planet was dead.”

“I think they’re just street lights.” First Aid notes.

“Oh.” Vortex feels stupid, “Yeah that makes sense. Surprised that all of these still work.”

“It is surprising. Does make it really beautiful though.” First Aid says, enamored by the view.

Vortex watches the lights and the city. “Light pollution is kind of a glitch though, huh.”

First Aid stutters on his words, surprised, “I- yes? I agree. What’s this about?”

“Back on Earth, you can’t really see the stars. With the way technology keeps advancing there, it becomes brighter and brighter and- oops! Can’t see scrap anymore.” Vortex complains, audibly upset.

“Do you like stars?” First Aid asks, interested.

“Yeah. They’re cool.” Vortex looks up at the sky, “I know it’s just like, a big ol’ ball of fire in space, millions upon millions of miles away, and there’s like a thousand of them, but it’s pretty.”

“Wish these street lamps weren’t here then, huh?” First Aid comments.

“Yeah.” Vortex agrees, “Then we’d be able to see everything. Never got that view on Cybertron either.” 

First Aid thinks back to their home planet, “There shouldn’t be anything obscuring the view on Cybertron though.”

Vortex pauses, “There was.”

“Oh. That’s… a shame.” First Aid gets that strange feeling in the back of his processor again.

Vortex claps his servos, “Anyways! Not a big fan of the dark. Gets all spooky and stuff. And makes it hard to see.”

“But you don’t like light pollution because it’s too bright?” First Aid jokes.

“I’m allowed to hate both.” Vortex grumbles.

“That’s fair.”

A street lamp is broken in the middle of the street, its light went dark a long time ago. First Aid drives around it, making sure to avoid the glass shards.

“Think there are any areas on Earth without lights?” Vortex asks. “The spot us Decepticons are hiding out in makes it kind of hard to leave and look around.”

First Aid thinks, “The Ark is basically in a completely deserted area. I’m not sure the Autobots will be too friendly though.”

“Just. Hide me or something. Or pretend I’m a captive.” Vortex suggests. “Oh! Pretend you’re a captive! Then the ‘Bots can save you and I can leave!”

First Aid worries, “That seems a bit dangerous, we have combiners too, remember?” 

“Yeah, then I can get smacked out of the air like a bug” Vortex jokes.

“Pfft.” First Aid clears his throat, “Sorry. Thought that was funny.”

“Thanks, I don’t try.”

Vortex curls up into a more comfortable position, laying back down, not dangling his legs off the side anymore. “Do you like the stars?”

“Huh? Um, I guess. They’re pretty, but…” First Aid hesitates on his answer, “It kind of leaves me feeling insignificant about myself sometimes. I’m so small compared to everything. There are so many planets like this one and Earth and Cybertron where there’s an entire society and culture. It makes all of my problems feel so unimportant.”

Vortex pauses, “…What the hell? Warn me before you say things like that next time.”

“Sorry.” First Aid apologizes, feeling like he shared a bit too much about himself.

Up ahead is a bridge, a bit too broken to travel over, built over a relatively large river, polluted water flowing through. Past the bridge is a residential area, or what appears to be one.

First Aid slows to a stop, “Think we should rest here?”

“I don’t…” Vortex pauses for a moment, “Sure let’s recharge here.”

“If you don’t want to-” First Aid tries to say, concerned.

“Nah. It’s fine- just- it’s fine.” Vortex interrupts, not wanting a repeat of their other conversation.

First Aid waits, expecting something more, “Ok.”

Vortex drops down from First Aid, who transforms back into his root mode, dusting off his wheels. 

“So did you have an idea for where we’re resting or are we just recharging on the ground?” Vortex asks, looking around the buildings.

“That building looks comfortable, right?” First Aid points toward a large building, a station building with tracks leading out and onto another bridge nearby.

“Hey they do have public transportation!” Vortex says, surprisingly giddy.

First Aid’s processor eases a little, “That seems nice enough to recharge in, yes?”

“Yep. Let’s go in!” Vortex pushes First Aid toward the station. 

First Aid tries to ignore the lingering feeling of discomfort when it comes to Vortex. If he recharges and loses energon, then is there really a point to recharging? He’d be better off continuing on his own without worry, of course that would wear down the processor over the fuel reserves, but it’s better than waking up feeling even worse than before.

As they enter the station, dark and ruined, clean and silver, it’s filled with empty booths for tickets and benches. There’s an empty store with packaged foods near a corner. Leading further into the station, there’s a ticket machine with a tiny gate blocking anyone without one from entering. Despite being two stories tall, the second floor doesn’t seem to have any real purpose besides decoration.

“This place looks cool,” said Vortex, “In sort of a… liminal way.”

First Aid hums in agreement.

They jump the ticket gate.

Past the gate is the actual waiting area for trains, benches attached to walls and a linear map of the locations on the planet. The paint is worn down, making any actual words or images hard to distinguish. There’s some vending machines that are empty and don’t seem to function anymore.

On the rails is one single train, gone unused for years, still standing. Built like a giant metal serpent, smooth and silver.

“We gonna recharge in there? Looks really comfy.” Vortex runs up to the train, checking out the small details.

First Aid smiles behind his mask, “Sure, why not?”

Vortex kicks down the door, again, but due to only being made of metal, no pieces get stuck in his leg this time. Entering through the far back of the train, the interior is relatively large, filled with cabin rooms that are completely empty, no furnishing or decoration. 

“This seems kind of cozy. I like it.” First Aid comments, spinning around to get a good view.

“I want this room.” Vortex immediately runs to open the door of a small cabin, climbing in. “We can explore the rest after.”

“Alright.” First Aid waits to pick the booth right next to Vortex’s, “Have a nice recharge.”

“…Yeah. Ok.” Vortex says, distant, sliding the door closed behind himself.

Vortex lays down in the booth, which has a window and a control panel to heat up the floor. He doesn’t bother with the controls, assuming it doesn’t work.

He’s definitely not going to be recharging.

Chapter Text

The train cabin is empty, completely empty, Vortex lies on the floor. It’s quiet. It’s dark. Walls made of metal, and a carpeted floor. Ew. Vortex doesn’t like the carpeted floor, it has a strange texture and it’s uncomfortable, but it’s different. Cybertron would never live up to the exciting disappointment that is the materials from these kinds of planets.

Vortex, as much as he tried to avoid caring about whatever this planet had to offer, was oddly interested in how different certain things were compared to Cybertron or Earth. The structures are very… unique, is how Vortex would put it. The colors are dull and a bit boring, just metal and concrete buildings. Whoever once lived here, they’d have to have been pretty big, organic, and probably bipedal, but they’re all gone now, so he doesn’t care that much.

He’s a little miffed at how First Aid reacted, who saw it as a really big deal, but it’s not like either of them were around when it happened. At the same time, he found it more fun to mess around with a First Aid who actually argues back… sometimes. It just almost reminds him of Onslaught, and arguing with him over petty things is always fun. 

Vortex’s processor feels like it's drowning into static. That’s usually not a good sign.

He checks his energon levels.

54%. 

That’s a decent drop. Not going to last long at this rate.

Vortex feels tired. He should recharge, that’s what his HUD warns him, that’s what he needs to do, because if he doesn’t then he’s going to short-circuit something, which is the worst case scenario. Short-circuiting something in his processor will make everything feel like mush, turning his already disorganized thoughts into more nonsense. He’d only ever done that once before the war, and that was a bit terrifying to experience. 

He could’ve recharged in that one factory building, only took him half a mega-cycle to finally recharge, but then First Aid started crying in his recharge cycle and that’s always miserable and annoying and pathetic, waking him up after not even an hour. Why can’t he just recharge normally? 

Vortex can’t tell if he’s asking that about himself or First Aid.

Vortex gets bored, kicking and scratching at the floor, hoping to tire himself out enough to pass out. Repeating the same actions over and over, he feels the exact same, giving up. Onslaught told him once that it’s better to just pretend to recharge and then it’ll come naturally. Vortex thought that was stupid. Frustrated, he kicks the wall again, hard, before realizing First Aid would’ve heard that.

He stops what he’s doing, lying on the floor, not wanting to deal with a pissed off First Aid. Not a moment later, the same wall is hit loudly from the other side, startling Vortex. Taking this as a challenge, he kicks the wall again, harder, louder. First Aid hits back immediately this time. Vortex stands up, preparing to hit the wall harder, when the door opens.

First Aid enters the train cabin, closing the door behind him, “That was your cue to stop, not continue.”

“Already? It was starting to get fun,” said Vortex, playfully.

First Aid sighs, tired from being woken up, “Did you want something or were you getting bored?” he asked, slowly sitting down on the floor.

“You’re not gonna leave?” asked Vortex, confused by First Aid’s calm composure.

“No, I’ll leave whenever you fall into a recharge cycle,” First Aid clarified.

Vortex drops down onto the floor, crossing his legs, “We’re gonna be here for a while then.”

The space is a little cramped with the two of them together. First Aid was prepared for a nice evening to recharge and let his frame rest, but after being rudely woken up to a loud thud, he’s more awake than ever. Maybe they should’ve gone through the night outside, that would let Vortex run around if he’s not tired enough. First Aid stares at the floor, his servos, and Vortex, switching between each one, waiting. 

The floor in this room is carpeted, unlike the one First Aid had picked that was next door, which was made of wood. He’s not a big fan of the texture, being made of a material that was hard to come by and practically useless back on Cybertron. Humans back on Earth really seemed to like this kind of material however, which he thought was kind of annoying. 

First Aid’s servos are functioning as normal, a very intricate body part, the one part of him he absolutely cannot lose, or else he’d be rendered useless to everyone around him. Some of the paint is scratched off, showing a dull, grey metal underneath. He’d always heard from others that a medic’s hands were forged to be more sensitive, but it’s not like he’d be able to know the difference. He presses down on his palm very lightly, the pressure still strong enough to be felt.

Vortex is lying on the ground now, knees curled up, resting his helm on his servos, visor still glowing a bright red, still awake. “Do you have anything to talk about? I’m getting bored.”

“Aren’t you always?” First Aid jokes.

“Yeah. Tell me about literally anything.”

First Aid should probably just think of a dull topic that would hopefully bore Vortex so they can both just recharge, but… “There’s a species of animal on Earth called molluscs-“

Vortex interrupts, “Ok. Maybe not literally anything.”

“Shush, let me finish.” First Aid continues, “Anyways, there’s a class of molluscs that have animals with those shells like clams and stuff, right? Specifically ones with two shells.”

“Uuuggghhh” Vortex groaned, regretting his prior decisions.

First Aid blankly stares at Vortex, “Do you want to know the name of that specific classification?”

“what?” Vortex asks, playing along with whatever First Aid was doing.

“Bivalves.”

Vortex snorts, “Wh- huh?” 

First Aid bites back a laugh, “It’s called that because bi means two. Two shells. Bivalves,” he said, keeping his composure.

“Pfft- Are they actually?? huh??” Vortex, struggling to form a coherent sentence, starts laughing.

“You know one of our human friends? You know how his name is Spike?” First Aid continued, keeping his calm voice.

Vortex wheezes, “yeaah?”

“Our little friend Spike went to go eat some bivalves the other day.” First Aid spoke with a professional tone.

“Mech, stop saying that in such a normal voice! I can’t-” Vortex coughs in between his laughter, rotor blades stuck against the floor.

“You have a sense of humor that of a sparkling,” said First Aid, faux disappointment in his voice.

“Shut up! You can’t say things like that and expect me to react normally!” Vortex’s laughter quickly turns into a violent coughing fit, his vents are struggling.

“I’m just sharing fun facts about Earth that I’ve learned. I don’t see the problem,” First Aid said, very proud of himself.

“You suck!” Vortex, laying on his side, tries to calm down his vents.

First Aid’s optics glow brighter, “Did you like my fun fact?”

Vortex, finally calmed down, sits up, “No. But I will be stealing that for later.” His rotor blades, now no longer trapped from the weight, spin frantically to even out the happy feelings.

First Aid, after letting his face relax, only now realizes how hard he had been smiling. Vortex’s rotor blades slow to a stop as he takes a deep breath, leaning back against the wall. He’s a little upset that the joke ended up making him feel more awake than ever, but it wasn’t that big of a deal, it’ll wear off eventually.

First Aid is glad that Vortex liked his rather immature joke. Maybe it’s just being tired that made it funnier to him, but First Aid was happy nonetheless to see Vortex in a good mood.

He’s kept the joke on the backburner for a while, hoping to make a couple of his teammates laugh someday, although it’d probably only be Blades. First Aid’s mind wanders off, again, to his team, wondering how they’re doing. 

Ah, right, his team. Back to those thoughts again. 

First Aid didn’t want that. Not now. Not when he’s having fun. He readjusts his posture to something more casual, worried that somehow, Vortex will just be able to physically see into his thoughts, ruining the nice mood they have. Like tar enveloping his mind, slow, and dark.

Why now?

Vortex spots a slight shift in tone with First Aid, causing a bit of confusion. Something changed. He was fine just a minute ago. Weird.

“You feelin’ alright?” Vortex asked, startling First Aid out of his thoughts.

First Aid panics internally, “Huh?” he keeps his composure, “Yes? Why do you ask?”

Vortex stares, trying to find something in First Aid’s behavior, “Nah. No reason. Just got a weird vibe.”

First Aid tries to avoid Vortex’s gaze, optics are a gateway into one’s spark… or processor. Something like that. Would trying to avoid eye-contact make it more obvious? Would he be able to tell regardless? First Aid tries to smile from under his mask, despite knowing it won’t be seen. 

He figured that if he can just ignore those thoughts right now, he won’t make this really weird.

Vortex is still staring. “ Frag it. You wanna talk about it?”

“ …About?” First Aid pretends, hoping that Vortex gives up.

Vortex sighs, “Primus, mech. You know what I’m talking about.”

“I- Sorry. I’m just tired.” First Aid said, staring at the ground again. “Everything’s fine though, really,” he says as a last ditch attempt.

“Uh huh.” Vortex nods, exaggerated and unconvinced.

First Aid gives in, knowing that Vortex is impossible to lie to. “I’ve just been worrying about my team.” He looks down at his servos, “I’m worried that something bad happened. What if someone got hurt and I wasn’t there to help and someone died and I couldn't do anything.”

Vortex hesitates on answering, uncertain if he can say anything that would be helpful... Why would he care about something like that? “But that’s only what-ifs and scrap.”

“It’s possible though.”

“But it doesn't matter.”

“But- It’s all I’m good for, isn’t it?” He intertwined his fingers together, “If I can’t help others, then I’m not doing my job, and my job is all I’m good at.”

“Doesn't seem very Autobot-y to judge people on how useful they are.”

“Are you admitting the Decepticon treatment of soldiers is unjust and cruel?” First Aid jokes.

“Look at who you’re talking to.”

“Right.”

First Aid’s mind feels empty, like all of his thoughts had been washed away, just for a moment. Some feelings are still lingering, staying dormant in the back of his processor until it comes back. He didn’t want the conversation to get to this point, now Vortex is probably annoyed with him, ruining the nice moment they had just a moment ago. 

Ah, right. First Aid was here because he wanted to make sure Vortex would enter his recharge cycle, still worried about what might be going on. They’ve gotten so off topic, and now they’re talking about First Aid’s annoying problems instead. It brings a strange discomfort to everything he feels.

“Are you feeling tired yet?” First Aid asked. All he wants to do right now is recharge and pretend like all of this never happened.

Vortex shrugs, “Kinda? We’ve been talking for a bit. Are you?”

“Very. But I’m still going to wait for you.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Vortex comments, ignoring his hypocrisy.

“It’s fine! Uh- we can talk about why you’re not feeling tired?” First Aid suggests.

“Nope.”

First Aid wasn’t sure what response he expected to get. It was worth a shot. 

He lies on the ground on his side, the carpeted floor isn’t uncomfortable enough for him to bother leaving. First Aid’s just tired, his processor is slowing down. He’s supposed to wait for Vortex, not care about his own feelings right now, especially not when those feelings are persistently annoying.

“ …tired,” he mumbles. An incomplete thought.

His visor dims, his HUD spews a jumble of words at him, before letting him recharge.

Vortex sits around, expecting First Aid to do or say something. He’s more confused by how comfortable First Aid is with leaving himself vulnerable next to a Decepticon. Not that he would do anything, there’s nothing to gain from something as petty as that.

“What happened to waiting for me?” Vortex whispers, mostly as a joke.

First Aid, unsurprisingly, doesn’t respond, the only noise being air circulating through his vents. Vortex won’t be able to leave either, considering First Aid is also blocking the door, which is really annoying. The space is cramped too, which brings Vortex a considerable amount of discomfort.

Vortex plops down onto the floor, he should probably recharge too. He stares at the ceiling, waiting still not tired enough. If he tries to move around to tire himself out, it’ll definitely wake up First Aid, which he doesn’t really want for some reason, especially not after he rambled about his personal feelings.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about First Aid’s feelings. Caring about other mechs, especially ones that he’s in a war against, isn’t exactly something Vortex takes an interest in. It was definitely weird. Even stranger that First Aid would ever trust him with something personal, even with Vortex persisting on asking.

Vortex shuts his optics, letting his frame relax, trying not to think about anything at all. He focuses on the darkness, his vents, and the silence. For the first time in a long time, he feels calm. It’s strange. Very very strange. He’s not sure if he likes it.

First Aid is having a weird effect on him.

Chapter Text

{

DESIGNATION:  [VORTEX]

ID NUMBER: [D-66]

ENERGON LEVELS: 53%

RUNNING [RECHARGE CYCLE PROCEDURE]

WARNING: FOREIGN CODE DETECTED

ATTEMPTING REMOVAL…

ERROR: REMOVAL FAILURE

ATTEMPTING REMOVAL…

ERROR: REMOVAL FAILURE

ATTEMPTING REMOVAL…

ERROR: REMOVAL FAILURE

Cancel: [RECHARGE CYCLE PROCEDURE]

Replay; selected [MEMORY]

hello?

damn

it’s way too dark

can’t feel anything either

oh well

something is wrong

“something is wrong”?

yeah great observation

hahahah

“something is wrong”

hahahahahahaaa

eurgh

stupid.

hellloooo?

CONTACTING [ONSLAUGHT]

ERROR: COMMUNICATION LINK DISABLED

nope

worth a shot

this is pissing me off

i swear im going to stab someone

just

gimme my

thing

RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC…

ERROR: NOT RESPONDING

…

huh

RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC…

ERROR: NOT RESPONDING

RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC…

ERROR: NOT RESPONDING

RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC…

ERROR: NOT RESPONDING

thats 

wh

hm

that

is

not what i wanted

ATTEMPTING ACCESS;

[OPTICS]

ERROR: [OPTICS] NOT DETECTED

…

what?

ATTEMPTING ACCESS;

[OPTICS]

ERROR: [OPTICS] NOT DETECTED

ATTEMPTING ACCESS;

[OPTICS]

ERROR: [OPTICS] NOT DETECTED

ATTEMPTING ACCESS;

[OPTICS]

ERROR: [OPTICS] NOT DETECTED

.

shit

ATTEMPTING ACCESS;

[AUDIALS]

ERROR: [AUDIALS] NOT DETECTED

no

ATTEMPTING ACCESS;

[VOICE BOX]

ERROR: [VOICE BOX] NOT DETECTED

no no no

ATTEMPTING ACCESS;

[SERVOS]

ERROR: [SERVOS] NOT DETECTED

no no no no

ATTEMPTING ACCESS;

[TRANSFORMATION COG]

ERROR: [TRANSFORMATION COG] NOT DETECTED

no nO NO NO

ATTEMPTING ACCESS;

[SPARK]

ERROR: [SPARK] NOT DETECTED

NO

WARNING: HIGH STRESS DETECTED

YEAH 

GOOD JOB

WHERE 

FINDING LOCATION COORDINATES…

ERROR: PERMISSION NOT GRANTED

DAMMIT

aaaAAAAGH

CONTACTING [ONSLAUGHT]

ERROR: COMMUNICATION LINK DISABLED

YOU

CONTACTING [ONSLAUGHT]

ERROR: COMMUNICATION LINK DISABLED

PIECE

CONTACTING [ONSLAUGHT]

ERROR: COMMUNICATION LINK DISABLED

OF

CONTACTING [ONSLAUGHT]

ERROR: COMMUNICATION LINK DISABLED

SHIT

GREAT plan Ons 

clearly worked out SO well

Hhhhhaaaahahahaha

fuck you

fine

FINE

(FORCE) INITIATE;

[RECHARGE CYCLE PROCEDURE]

ERROR: HIGH STRESS DETECTED

UNABLE TO PERFORM ACTION

…

fine

INITIATE; 

PERMANENT SHUTDOWN: [PROCESSOR]

ERROR: PERMISSION NOT GRANTED

fine

fine

fine

its all

great

amazing

wonderful

hahahah

i hate this

i hate you

INITIATE; 

PERMANENT SHUTDOWN: [PROCESSOR]

ERROR: PERMISSION NOT GRANTED

INITIATE; 

PERMANENT SHUTDOWN: [PROCESSOR]

ERROR: PERMISSION NOT GRANTED

INITIATE; 

PERMANENT SHUTDOWN: [PROCESSOR]

ERROR: PERMISSION NOT GRANTED

INITIATE; 

PERMANENT SHUTDOWN: [PROCESSOR]

ERROR: PERMISSION NOT GRANTED

INITIATE; 

PERMANENT SHUTDOWN: [PROCESSOR]

ERROR: PERMISSION NOT GRANTED

INITIATE; 

PERMANENT SHUTDOWN: [PROCESSOR]

ERROR: PERMISSION NOT GRANTED

INITIATE; 

PERMANENT SHUTDOWN: [PROCESSOR]

ERROR: PERMISSION NOT GRANTED

INITIATE; 

PERMANENT SHUTDOWN: [PROCESSOR]

ERROR: PERMISSION NOT GRANTED

INITIATE; 

PERMANENT SHUTDOWN: [PROCESSOR]

ERROR: PERMISSION NOT GRANTED

INITIATE; 

PERMANENT SHUTDOWN: [PROCESSOR]

ERROR: PERMISSION NOT GRANTED

Detected: Physical disruption

Replay; selected [MEMORY]: Cancelled

ENERGON LEVELS: 42%

}

“Vortex?” First Aid knocks on Vortex’s forehead, trying to wake him up, “Are you okay?” he asked, voice filled with concern.

Vortex, optics readjusting to light pouring in from the window, fails to hear First Aid’s question. “Whuh?” 

First Aid sighs with relief. “Are you okay?” he repeats a little bit louder, as if that would change anything.

Vortex, only now noticing the blue visor staring at him, lies still on the floor. “Nope. Feel awful right now.” He said, 

“Oh. Do you want to talk about it?” asked First Aid, knowing that it wouldn't lead anywhere. “You were… screaming.”

“No.” Vortex said straight away. “I do not.”

First Aid expected that answer. But still. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Vortex sits up, clawing at his helm, scratching off paint. “I’m sure.”

First Aid pauses. He wants to keep trying but… “Okay. If you say so.”

Vortex looks out the window, the train station’s glass roof letting sunlight be brought inside, illuminating the building, making it much easier to see the other side of the train station. It’s too bright, too annoying.

The floor feels so much more uncomfortable to sit on. His entire frame feels so much more sensitive to touch, like every single piece of the carpet was triggering his sensors. 

His audials keep picking up the most subtle of noises, whether from himself or First Aid, it feels like it’s driving him more insane. 

Why does everything feel so much more annoying?

First Aid is staring at him, again. Vortex didn’t care much for First Aid’s attempts at trying to get closer. He’s slipped up too many times, judging from how First Aid stares at him, he’s probably figured something out by now. He didn’t want pity, and especially not from someone like First Aid. Vortex won’t be able to get away this time.

And of course it replayed that memory. It’s always that memory. Cold. Dark. Silent. The Detention Center. The worst place on Cybertron. 

And First Aid heard the screaming too. 

A recurring problem, Onslaught had told him, while acting too distant to bother with doing something about it. Vortex had watched Onslaught as he left, leaving Vortex alone to deal with it himself when he refused any help. An unpleasant memory. Not like it matters anymore. 

First Aid sits around, waiting for Vortex to do something, considering it looks like he won’t be talking about what happened. Neither of them try to say anything, about what happened, or anything else. 

The silence is only filled with the light hum of the inner workings of machinery. 

First Aid hesitates, “Do you want to start heading out?” he asked, hoping to relieve the tension.

“I don’t wanna do anything.” Vortex slouches, placing the weight of his head on his hand, “I just want to die right now.”

First Aid feels even more concern, placing his hand on Vortex’s arm, “Please don’t.” 

“T’was a joke!” Vortex says, lighthearted, fixing his posture and pulling his arm away from First Aid.

“Vortex.” First Aid says in a stern voice. He sighs, softening into a gentle tone, “Take your time”.

Vortex, discomforted by First Aid’s reaction, gives a small hum in response, listlessly looking out the window. 

First Aid’s concern only grows. He’s never seen Vortex so… stressed? 

Recharge cycles rarely, if not ever, try to replay a memory that actively causes stress unless they’re constantly thinking about it. Maybe with someone like Red Alert, someone who is paranoid about everything and everyone, but usually a Cybertronian’s processor is hardwired to avoid these things.

Even then, getting to the point where he started screaming. It was terrifying for First Aid, waking up to that sound, watching Vortex flail around, trying to hold onto something, anything.

First Aid didn’t think someone like Vortex would go through that. He didn’t think Vortex could go through something like that. He didn’t want Vortex to go through that at all.

First Aid wants to hug Vortex, but that’s a death sentence waiting to happen. Instead, he just sits there in close proximity, waiting. If Vortex needs something, then First Aid will help in any way he can. 

…Something clicks. 

The Combaticons were imprisoned back on Cybertron due to disobeying Megatron, that much was obvious, being referred to as renegade Decepticons by the Ark. But something changed. Now, they follow orders without a second thought, even for the worst plans.

Their conversation while waiting out the rain comes back. ‘No. I don’t think he can.’ 

Did they already try usurping Megatron in the past? They’re competent enough to nearly destroy Earth and almost single-handedly take over Cybertron. Something changed. 

Vortex’s reaction about his processor was more than just being ‘caught off guard.’ 

He couldn’t see the stars on Cybertron.

Losing energon during recharge cycles.

Replaying a stressful memory.

Imprisoned.

What did Megatron do?

What did he do to the Combaticons?

Vortex looks back at First Aid, who’s still waiting around. He’s analyzing something. How annoying. Vortex ignores the unease in the back of his processor. “We should get going.” He said, trying not to prolong the silence. Once they get back on the road, they’ll act like nothing happened.

“Wait-” First Aid, startled out of his thoughts, realizing that this is his only shot, can’t lose his opportunity to talk now, “I need to ask-”

“No.” said Vortex, his voice stern, “My answer is gonna be no.” He starts to get up from the floor, not wanting to deal with this right now.

“That’s not my question.” First Aid grabs Vortex’s arm with his left, trying to keep him from standing up. “I need to ask- What did Megatron do to you on Cybertron? After you and the others failed to take over.” He wasn’t sure if the wording was too vague or not.

Vortex froze. “…What?” The discomfort floods through his mind, unprepared for the sudden intervention. 

First Aid holds on, “Megatron did something, didn't he? Something to your processor.” He feels sickened by the idea that anyone could do such a thing, “Did he reprogram you? You and the other Combaticons? Please, just tell me. I want to help-”

Vortex grabs the arm First Aid held onto him with, claws digging deep into his transformation seams. He flinches in pain, trying to get away. Vortex tightens his grip, shaking.

First Aid watches the red visor glowing, staring at him, an indiscernible expression, “Vortex, what—”

In a sudden motion, First Aid experiences a very novel feeling of pain, 

His entire frame

yanked to the side

A sudden burst of pain on his 

left

he screams

PROCESSOR…ONLINE

STATUS REPORT

(LEFT) ARM MODULE…REPAIR NEEDED

FUEL LINES…REPAIR NEEDED

ENERGON LEVELS 93%

ENERGON LEVELS 90%

LOSING ENERGO—

…

FUEL LINES…REPAIRED

First Aid’s optics online, the sun is already setting, the light pouring in through the window now dimmed. His body aches, like he’d just fallen down a cliff.

How long was he out? What was he just doing? Why does everything hurt? 

Still lying on the ground, he tries to get up, struggling to do so without his…

“Huh?”

First Aid feels something missing. His arm.

Where- Where is his arm? 

First Aid panics, where is his arm? He looks to the side, expectant of an answer, finding only a pool of his own energon, as well as splattered across the room, wires and fuel lines protruding out of a large wound that’s no longer bleeding. Did Vortex do this?

Realization hits.

Where's Vortex?

First Aid tries to get up, again, not wanting to lie in a puddle of his own energon. The sun is already setting, he’s been out for too long. First Aid stands up, nearly losing his balance. His arm doesn’t matter right now, he needs to find Vortex. 

First Aid scans the room for a hint or some idea of where Vortex might be. Nothing. Exactly as he saw it earlier, only now a puddle where he was bleeding. His arm isn’t lying around broken or anything either. The door was left ajar in a hurry. 

It’s empty.

First Aid stands there, unsure of what to do. The sun creates a shadow of the medic, extending through the room. 

It’s silent.

First Aid feels miserable. He feels so stupid. Why? Why why why? He shouldn’t have asked. He shouldn't have said anything. He shouldn’t have done anything. Vortex didn’t want to talk about it and First Aid should’ve just respected that. He’s awful. He’s an awful person for doing that.

His head feels like it’s going to split open. It’s hard for his vents to function. First Aid feels like he’s choking on his own thoughts as they weigh him down, escaping as sobs. Why is he so pathetic? 

First Aid misses his team. He misses everyone. He just wants to go home. He can’t do anything anymore. Missing an arm, he’s useless. He’s so pathetic. Fighting a war where everyone’s life is on the line, yet he wouldn’t even be able to muster the strength to pull a trigger, let alone aim a gun. First Aid can’t even help those who need it.

“ …sorry” The words spill out. First Aid doesn't even know who he’s apologizing to anymore. There’s no one else here to hear his cries.

There’s no point anymore. Reaching for the loss of sensation on his left, First Aid grabs onto air. There’s no point. He'll just rot here. He’s worthless now. Whenever he’s found and wherever he’s found, it’ll be better if he’s torn and used as spare parts. He’s useless anyways.

First Aid stood there, crying, time passing by. His voice box turns to static, his body weak, unable to stay standing.

He’s not sure how long he cried for, wasting time, wasting energy.

Optics refocusing, First Aid spots a small trail of energon, still glowing and fresh, that dripped outside, now feeling stupid for wasting more time.

He decides to follow it, not having any other direction to go in. If Vortex took First Aid’s bleeding arm, then he’ll probably find it if he finds Vortex. If he can find it, then he’ll be helpful again. Nothing else better to do other than cry, which is always a waste of time.

The trail leads outside the train, following the edge of the platform. First Aid follows, everything feels so much slower than usual. He can’t transform like this. The station echoes with each step, heavy and slow. Metal on concrete floor. 

Reaching the front of the train, the energon drips onto the tracks, to which First Aid follows, jumping down. The tracks reach outside, onto a bridge, crossing over the polluted river. There’s railings on the sides of the bridge, as well as another set of tracks that likely carries a train back to the station.

It’s a long walk. The setting sun offers a small amount of warmth and comfort, but it’s still pointless. 

First Aid steps between the metal rails, staring at the ground as he walks. The railroad ties are made of wood. He thought that was funny. An entire planet that’s a constant dull mess of grey concrete and metal, here’s the only part of a structure made of wood. The only place where it’s needed, and it’ll never be seen by most people. How sad.

That’s a stupid thought to have. The wood isn’t alive. 

First Aid kicks the wood. Doing so offers no satisfaction.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, as if it could ever hear him. What is he doing anymore? 

He continues down the bridge, still barely halfway through. If he tried to transform without his arm, he’d be missing an entire piece of his alt-mode, which would bring a risk to driving on the already dangerous train tracks. 

First Aid should hurry, it’ll only get harder to find Vortex if it’s dark. Everything feels too heavy. Why was he putting in all this effort for Vortex anyways? What did he ever do to warrant this much time? What did he ever do that gave First Aid a reason to care? Vortex clearly didn’t care. Not about First Aid, not about this planet, not about the lives of others. 

First Aid shouldn’t care. He wishes he didn’t care. He’s putting in all this effort to help Vortex and for what? A missing arm? What would his team do in this situation? 

Great. Those thoughts again. His team. They’d all just tell First Aid to not care so much about Vortex, wouldn’t they?

Blades would probably tell him that he needs to be ready to fight. That a Decepticon like Vortex is much more skilled in combat and a threat.

But Vortex hasn’t done anything to warrant something as drastic as that—besides tearing off his arm—and it’s not like First Aid had anything to fight back with.

First Aid steps between the railroad ties, trying to avoid stepping on them.

Groove would probably tell him to not worry so much about it. It’s nice to help others, but First Aid should give himself a break.

First Aid’s taken too many breaks. He needs to do his job, and that’s helping others. That’s all he’s good for anyways.

The trail of energon is drying, reaching its end.

Streetwise would probably tell him that a Decepticon can’t be trusted, that he’s going to take advantage of any kindness that’s offered.

But Vortex hasn’t done anything like that yet. His behavior is erratically stubborn, but he’s still shown a considerable amount of restraint compared to how he normally acts. First Aid considered that good enough.

Hot Spot… 

What would Hot Spot think of Vortex?

What would he think of what First Aid was doing?

Tell him to stop? No. Maybe?

He stops to think, rummaging through old memories, making an irritated noise when he remembers an embarrassing one, hitting the side of his helm to try and ignore it.

If he had to guess, Hot Spot would probably tell First Aid something similar in the past, something he’d have to be reminded about; to prioritize his own feelings first. If he keeps trying to carry the burden of others over his own, he’ll become spiteful of the people he cares about. 

…Staring at the sunset, First Aid pondered about those words, what they meant to him.

That’s a little stupid, First Aid thought, and a little bit melodramatic. Vortex needs his help right now, he can’t be worried about his own feelings. First Aid’s not an idiot, he’ll know when to stop when it becomes too much. He’ll be fine. 

First Aid ignores the pain on his left. He’ll be fine.

“Ah. Right,” First Aid checks through his status report, seeing if he was imagining it. 

Vortex had repaired his fuel lines, or at least that’s the only explanation for why he hasn’t died from energon loss.

It’s not like First Aid would be able to do anything when missing an entire limb, but it was also Vortex that caused it in the first place. Still better than bleeding out, although it would've been nicer to not get to the point in the first place.

First Aid nears the end of the bridge, looking up at the area ahead. The bleeding energon trail ends here, which likely means Vortex either threw away the arm, or he realized it was bleeding, and tried to stop it. 

The tracks lead through a residential area, with buildings that actually have some variety between them compared to the repetitive architecture from before. Different heights and shapes.

It almost resembles some areas back on Earth, but it’s still too dead. A lead canvas. It’ll take too long for First Aid to comb the entire area for just Vortex. He’ll get a better view of the area if he climbs up one of the buildings, considering these seem to actually have accessible roofs.

The tower still feels as far away as ever.

First Aid looks back to the other side of the bridge, the station so far away now. It’s impossible to see the factory that he landed in originally. The river water, filled with trash and rubble, glitters with the setting sun as it falls behind the horizon.

Stepping off the tracks, he continues forward.

If Vortex threw away the arm, First Aid is gonna punch him so hard.

Chapter Text

Metal footsteps stomping against the ground, echoing through the large station, Vortex wanted to leave as soon as possible, movements slowly speeding up, the severed arm dripping energon behind him. He wasn’t exactly sure where he was going, but it had to be anywhere but here. He follows the train to the front.

First Aid. Why’d it have to be First Aid? So annoying, so frustrating, thinks he’s so smart being able to figure out that the Combaticons were reprogrammed to be loyal. 

It doesn't matter if First Aid was being genuine about wanting to help, it doesn’t matter if First Aid would actually be able to help. Vortex doesn’t need help, he doesn’t care, which is why he accidentally tore off First Aid’s arm, which is why he put in the time to fix up the wound, which is why he’s carrying around the arm! He doesn't care!

Vortex really didn't mean to tear off his arm, but when someone can’t keep their thoughts to themself, when someone won’t stop talking and asking about something that triggered that annoying coding, that made him feel—

—Vortex wasn’t scared. He’s not scared of the Detention Center. He’s not scared of Shockwave. Not scared of Megatron. Not even scared of First Aid, which is why he’s running now, still carrying First Aid’s arm. 

He can’t imagine how pissed the medic would be if he woke up about having his arm torn off. Not something he wants to deal with. First Aid will be less of a threat like this. He can’t mess with Vortex’s processor with only one.

The way First Aid always insisted on helping brought Vortex discomfort. It’s not as if the medic would even get anything out of it, so why did he care so much? They’re meant to be fighting each other, not trying to bond with each other. 

But First Aid’s words are usually so truthful, so honest, yet there’s an obscured tone behind them, one that Vortex couldn’t pinpoint, one that First Aid keeps trying to hide. It’s not malicious, but it’s not friendly either. Added on with the fact that First Aid barely spoke of his own team too. 

It’s an unfamiliar and new feeling, which, under any other circumstance, Vortex would like, but this is not one of them.

What was he supposed to feel about that?

Vortex jumps down the tracks, nearly tripping after landing on the metal rails. Taking a moment to regain his footing, he runs on and in between the railroad ties, exiting the building and onto the bridge. Keeping his movement steady as he sprints, Vortex’s pedes clank against the ground. 

The sun blaring light and heat onto Vortex, he feels his frame overheating, the feeling only worsened by the ache in his processor, pain building up like a bubble that’s ready to pop. Why does his processor feel like melting? Why does his entire frame feel so weak? His energon levels are only at…

39%

See? Not that bad! Only 39%—and it dropped to 38%.

Over halfway across the bridge, no longer running, Vortex vents, heavy and tired, wanting to just pass out on the ground. Slowly, again, Vortex continues down the tracks, his body heavy, unable to push himself to run anymore. He drags the severed arm on the ground as the energon flowing through it slows down, trickling out the ruptured fuel lines.

It’s fine, it’ll be fine. Vortex will be fine, because he still has that stupid and gross energon cube to drink in his subspace, swishing and sloshing around. Thick and slimy. Ew. 

It hasn’t even been that long since he refueled or properly recharged, considering he’s gone even longer without so and turned out mostly fine in the end, if he ignores the how that was also the first time he ever short-circuited something in his processor.

The main difference is that Onslaught isn’t here to carry a stressed and scared Vortex over to the medbay, while the others stared at him like he’d actually gone insane.

Looking back on it, Vortex found it embarrassing, being seen in a moment of weakness, begging and crying to not be sent back to the Detention Center. He probably looked like a sparkling. It was the first time that he can remember since coming online that he’d ever truly cried. 

Pain was usually fun for him, being left on the edge of death was usually fun for him, but that was different. Even if it was repaired physically, the itch in the back of his processor never left. It became harder for him to recall certain memories, if he could remember them at all.

The worst part for Vortex was how his teammates didn’t even make fun of him for it either. They’d just look at him weird whenever he’d try and joke about it days later. Like some horrific realization hit the entire team after the incident; that the same could happen to them.

Brawl would start holding back on his punches whenever the two would roughhouse around the base. At some point, Vortex got bored of how monotonous their fights became, only sticking to verbally attacking each other, which was even more repetitive against a mech like Brawl, who can’t come up with an interesting comeback if his life was on the line.

Swindle started trying to avoid bringing Vortex into his ridiculous cash-grab schemes, which Vortex was completely fine with for the most part, but he was more upset about not even an attempt at hustling him for cheap change. It made Vortex realize how much he actually found the oddly cartoonish plots Swindle came up with to be less of a nuisance and more of a fun game sometimes.

Blast Off just became so much colder toward Vortex. No fun banter about calling Vortex repulsive or primitive or some other uppity-sounding words, instead just keeping his distance, only speaking to him during missions. For some reason, that always hurt him the most.

Onslaught would keep on checking up on him afterwards, making sure he’d properly refueled and recharged, which felt even worse than being ignored. All of Vortex’s joke attempts at trying to fight for control of the Combaticons weren’t even treated as something annoying, just met with slight disappointment, not even a fight.

But it’s all fine! Vortex doesn’t need his team and they don’t need him, clearly. It didn’t bother him that everyone else had gotten so much so much closer with each other after the incident. It didn’t scare him that everything was changing and that Vortex wasn’t prepared for it! He can just die out here and nothing would change!

It didn’t bother him in the slightest! In fact, it made him happier than ever, knowing that everyone still has no idea how to handle being around him! That they’d all just keep their distance rather than pry any further! After all, talking about his feelings will just soften him up too much, and he can’t have something like that as a Decepticon!

Vortex scratches at his helm, stressed and tired. His frame is overheating, cooling fans refusing to activate in case of using up more fuel. 

The wooden railway ties creak as Vortex steps on them, old and rotting. The sound is irritating, repeating the same squeak that makes him want to just tear out his audials and snap the wires out and watch his energon bleed from his helm and-

Vortex kicks the wood, over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over again. His pede leaves an indent. 

He calms down, a small amount of frustration still left behind, but it’s just enough to keep going for now. Vortex avoids stepping on the railway ties, continuing to drag the arm along the tracks, feeling heavy and annoying to bring. 

Why is he even carrying this anymore? First Aid’s already disarmed and Vortex has gotten far away enough, basically on the other side of the bridge anyways. He looks back, finally noticing the very convenient bleeding energon trail he left behind.

“Scrap.”

In a short lived panic, Vortex tosses the arm into the river, watching it sink into the water alongside trash that floats near the surface, leaving a slight pink hue, before being washed away as it goes deeper, and deeper into the darkness. 

Vortex watches, feeling a temporary victory, before the regret seeps in. Reminded of their short, late night conversation, the way First Aid tried to pretend like he was ok, the way First Aid valued himself based on his own usefulness, the way First Aid was hiding an even darker tone behind those words…

“Ah scrap, oh no-” He mumbles expletives as he frantically tries to think of what to do, and, without a second thought, jumps off the bridge and into the river.

In the air, for a short moment, Vortex felt

strangely at peace.

Breaking the surface tension, cold water clashes against his overheated frame, seeping in through the seams of his body, creating a painful sensation. 

His limbs, his joints, his struts, his intake, all drowning in the water, air bubbles flying out of the gaps in his body. Vortex tries to focus his optics onto the arm, but it’s too dark as he sinks further. Water enters into his visor through a small gap, making it harder to see. 

He reaches out his hands, hoping to grab onto something, anything, but he’s too far from any surface to hold. He tries to look for the arm, but it’s too dark. Vortex only then thinks about how poor of a decision this was to make without planning.

Why was he doing this anyways? What was First Aid going to do with his own severed arm? It’s not as if Vortex had any reason to help reattach it. 

That awful, incompetent medic. 

Water becomes colder and colder and denser as he sinks further, pressure building around him, feeling as though his frame is being crushed, even worse with the added sensitivity of his frame from feeling so weak. The combination of senses and stimulations overwhelms him. Vortex spots his HUD telling him something, warning him of something, but it’s hard to focus on anything.

He just needs to find the arm, give it back to First Aid, then everything will be fine. Except nothing is ever going to be fine, because First Aid will just be able to drive away without Vortex and leave him behind. Then he’ll be left all alone again, he can’t be left alone. He doesn’t want to be alone anymore. He’s been left behind here, that’s why the other Combaticons don’t treat him the same anymore! They don’t need him! 

If the Decepticon High Command learned about how he’d been working with First Aid to survive, if Onslaught learned about it, they’d send him back to the Detention Center, and he can’t go back. He can’t go back.

He can’t go back. He can’t go back. He can’t go back. He can’t go back. He can’t go

Vortex feels something in his processor snap, a strong electric shock that sends pain throughout his entire frame. His HUD is screaming, sending a flurry of warnings and errors that feel like loud static and white noise, ringing through his audials. A kind of pain that Vortex would never get used to, a kind of pain no one could ever get used to.

He tries to scream, only coming out as static and noise, his voice box submerged, muffled by the water. Unable to recognize his surroundings, his directions, how to leave. Vortex’s frame feels numb, yet alive, everything and anything, but nothing at the same time. Everything feels too overwhelming and loud.

Not again. Not again. Not again Not again Not again

Memories; repressed or forgotten, old and new; Emotions; rage against tranquility, despair against ecstasy; Sensations; pain and pleasure, hot and cold; all flood throughout his mind and body, shooting him, stabbing him, breaking him, embracing him, beating him, hurting him, crushing him, touching him, fucking him, arguing with him, fighting with him, crying with him, laughing with him, laughing at him, shouting at him, yelling at him, pushing deep inside him, pulling out of him, tearing into him, digging into him, drilling into his mind, rewriting his mind, losing his mind, removing his mind, removing his insides, filling him up inside, trembling fingers intertwined, holding on too tight, feeling like he’s going to die. He feels like he’s going to die. He feels like he’s going to die. He feels like he’s going to die. He feels like he’s going to die. He feels like he’s going to die.

Vortex feels like he’s going to die.

ERROR: aSBkb250IHdhbnQgdG8gZGll

ERROR: b25zbGF1Z2h0LCBwbGVhc2UgaGVscA==

ERROR: c29tZW9uZSwgYW55b25lLCBoZWxw

ERROR: aSBkb250IHdhbnQgdG8gZGll

ERROR: b25zbGF1Z2h0LCBwbGVhc2UgaGVscA==

ERROR: c29tZW9uZSwgYW55b25lLCBoZWxw

ERROR: aSBkb250IHdhbnQgdG8gZGll

ERROR: b25zbGF1Z2h0LCBwbGVhc2UgaGVscA==

ERROR: c29tZW9uZSwgYW55b25lLCBoZWxw

ERROR: aSBkb250IHdhbnQgdG8gZGll

ERROR—

SHUT UP

SHUT.

UP.

FOCUS. 

Focus. 

You’re not dead. You’re not dead. 

Just focus. 

You know what to do now.

Vortex shuts his optics tighter, trying to concentrate, where he is, who he is, what he is. Onslaught had reminded him, again and again, to remember those things whenever his processor replayed those memories, to focus on himself, to separate his mind from reality.

His spark, burning bright, warm under his chestplate, reminding him he’s still alive, not yet extinguished. His vents, working away, unable to cycle through air, submerged by the water, slow and steady. His frame, aching in pain, but if he can still feel, he can keep moving.

Spark, burning.

Vents, working.

Frame, moving.

Vortex reopens his optics, looking around, trying to figure out where ‘up’ is, focusing on the sunlight just barely gleaming through the surface of water. He pushes himself to swim up, despite what his HUD screams at him, straining his body to keep moving. 

Blast Off had told him to keep on moving, even when everything hurts. Pain for them is different from pain for organic. It’s a weakness to be held back by such a thing.

Spark, burning.

Vents, working.

Frame, moving.

He followed those words, not because he believed in the mechs who told him so, but because he had nothing else to follow when at his lowest. And he knew, even if it hurts his pride, that his own logic and reasoning would only drag him down further.

Vortex swims to the surface, the sunlight offering warmth, his servo reaching out of the water, grasping for a surface to hold onto, grabbing onto the solid concrete riverbank, which ramps up back to the bridge. The ground is hot, burning Vortex’s servo, cold water spilling out of the gaps in his frame, wetting the surface.

Spark, burning.

Vents, working.

Frame, moving.

Pulling himself up onto the concrete platform, Vortex feels water pouring out of his frame, his vents clearing up, cycling through air again. He hits his helm repeatedly, trying to remove the water trapped behind his visor.  He can taste burnt energon in the back of his intake, caused by the short-circuit while he was sinking. With the sun overheating him again and without the cold water cooling him down, Vortex collapses on the platform.

He couldn’t get First Aid’s arm.

Vortex laughs to himself, manic. He went through all of that and he couldn’t even get back the arm. Lying on his back, he stares up at the sun, which is beginning to set. He spent too much time underwater. First Aid would’ve most likely regained consciousness by now. At least he didn’t cry this time.

Vortex claws at his helm, again.

He seems to have managed to calm his processor down for the time being, but that also means several of his functions are definitely not going to be working. One of which seems to include his rotor blades, as well as the guns fixed to his arms. His HUD isn’t spouting depressing gibberish at him anymore. 

Vortex checks his energon levels, knowing he’s practically running on reserves at this point.

30%

All things considered, that’s really not that bad. Vortex finally motivates himself to sit up, watching the sun begin to set further into the distance. He tries to think about what to do when First Aid inevitably finds him in such a pathetic state. 

Struggling to stand up, Vortex starts climbing out of the riverbank and back onto the road, water dripping off of his body. The river had swept him away further than he expected, noting how the railroad bridge is much further away than before.

… Oh that arm is gone , Vortex thinks to himself.

This area seems interesting enough for him, not a series of boring box shaped metal and concrete buildings. Actual houses! Amazing! He continues forward, taking in the surrounding environment, still disappointed by the dull colors. 

Tripping over air, Vortex stumbles a little. His body is still weak and struggling to function properly. It’s frustrating, unable to transform and soar the air, unable to recharge peacefully, unable to refuel with fresh energon, unable to bargain with an upset First Aid now that he doesn’t have his arm anymore. There’s no way Vortex will be able to get away far enough to avoid confrontation, so he needs some excuse. 

Vortex claws at his head, again. First Aid would hate him regardless of what he says at this point. He should just accept it and move on. Yet, for some reason, he doesn’t like the idea of First Aid hating him. It brings him the same frustration that he felt with his team. 

There’s a large building a good distance away, fancy and white, adorned with pillars and a double door entrance, high chance that it’s important on this planet. Seems like a good enough place to hide out until Vortex can figure out what to do next. He pushes his body to keep moving forward.

His frame is shaking, he’s pushed it too hard when it should be resting, but too bad that Shockwave just personally hates him, otherwise he’d actually be trying to get a nice recharge cycle in. 

Didn’t make the whole short-circuiting any less terrifying.

… Trembling fingers intertwined. Suddenly, Vortex interlocks his fingers together, trying to recreate the feeling from the short fraction of the memory before it can disappear out of his grasp, before it can be something else that just itches away at the back of his mind. It’s not the same if his hands are the same size. They need to be—

His audials pick up footsteps from far away, startling Vortex, who looks around to see where it came from, anxiety building up in him. 

He finds the medic, missing an arm, standing with those unfitting bright green legs.

First Aid scans Vortex, looking for something.

“Oh. Oops.”

Chapter Text

First Aid isn’t exactly pleased at the moment. The light from his visor dimmed when he realized Vortex, who’s dripping water for some reason, isn't carrying his arm. He reaches for the phantom sensation on his left, where his arm should be if someone didn’t mess up. Thinking about what his team would do, he steels himself. 

No point in running now. 

Not to say Vortex couldn’t try running, but considering the state of his mind and body, he doubts he could make it very far without potentially getting tackled.

“Hey, so about your arm…” Vortex starts, trying to come up with some kind of excuse on the spot, but his processor is too sluggish to function correctly. “Listen, it was an accident-” He tries to explain, but is interrupted when a fist collides directly onto his visor, knocking him to the ground.

He skids across the concrete, adding extra pain to his already sensitive frame, but it feels so much better than everything that transpired within the past couple cycles. His visor now cracked on the side, making his vision blurry and harder to focus on anything in front of him. 

Vortex laughs, despite himself. His vents hurt as air is sharply swallowed. First Aid punches harder than he looks. 

Fun!

First Aid’s confidence falters for a moment, “Ah- I didn’t mean to break your-” He huffs, trying to get back into character, “Where the frag is my arm?” he shouts, hoping his imitation of an angry Blades was close enough.

“Yeah yeah ok, gimme a klik. Need to get up.” Vortex tries, and fails. His body isn’t exactly in the mood to work correctly. He tries again, only managing to sit up. “Didn’t know you had it in you, honestly.” Vortex gives a thumbs up, “Good job!”

First Aid isn’t sure how to respond to being praised for violence. “Answer the question,” He commands, looking down at the helicopter.

Vortex sighs, definitely no running away. “Ok ok. Calm down.” He hesitates on his answer, staring up at the medic, who placed his hand on his hip, trying to appear more confident. It’s kind of cute… Not really. Time to watch that fall apart. “I might’ve… accidentally dropped it in the river.”

First Aid stares, slowly processing what he was just told. “You what?” He says, in a tone of panic mixed with aggression.

“I mean- I tried to get it back, but I got swept away by the current,” Vortex explains, hoping First Aid doesn’t become doubtful of his story, “The same would probably go for the arm.”

“You what?” He repeats, clear panic in his voice.

“Yeah I know. My bad and all that. Sorry.” 

“You wha- No. Okay.” First Aid paces around in a small circle, trying to figure out what to do. “Well, thanks for the information, I guess. Goodbye.” He starts to leave, heading toward the riverbank.

“Wait what” Vortex tries to stand up, but his legs give out on him, “Where are you going?”

First Aid turns back, “To find my arm? In the river?” he clarifies with an exasperated tone. “What else?”

“I told you it got swept away by the current! It was near the bridge when it fell in!” Vortex points to where the bridge is, which stands far, far away from the two.

“Well, what else am I supposed to do!? It’s not like you’d accept any help I could offer!” First Aid huffs. “Unless you changed your mind after swimming in the river?” 

“Something definitely changed in my mind after the swim.” Vortex finally wills himself to get off the ground. “Everything tastes like burnt energon.”

First Aid’s frame droops a little, “Did you short-circuit—?” He smacks himself on the side of his helm, “No- we’re getting off topic. Either you’re going to let me help you, or I am going to spend the remaining 88% of energon I have looking for my arm.”

“So either die or die.” Vortex nods in an exaggerated manner, “Good choices.”

First Aid tenses up over the threat. 

Vortex steps closer, “What? You still wanna keep annoying me when you’ll be a limbless body being dragged around?”

“And how much energon do you have to pull off something like that?” First Aid fired back, regaining his confidence.

…28% and dropping steadily.

Vortex struggles to keep his gaze. “Not important.”

First Aid groans, “In all the time I’ve been alive, I have never met someone who has absolutely no sense of self-preservation.” 

Vortex scoffs, “Well I’ve never met someone who’s so casual about the idea of killing themself over an easily replaceable arm,” he argues, like the hypocrite he is.

“I would be less casual about it if I was around someone who actually cared,” First Aid mumbles.

That shut Vortex up. 

How is he supposed to respond to something like that? He knows he doesn’t care about First Aid that much, but something about saying that makes him feel odd.

First Aid sighs, then switching back to a more gentle voice, “Listen, I really do just want to help you. I know I won’t benefit from it,” he steps closer, “and it hurts to see you struggle like this.”

Vortex steps back.

Thinking back on it, maybe he did overestimate First Aid’s ability to be an actual threat. His first judgement on him was definitely the right one. Looking at the medic standing in front of him, he is rather pathetic physically, and way too emotional. 

Trying to read someone felt a lot more difficult when his processor was on the verge of snapping too.

A stifled noise comes from his voice box.

First Aid keeps his composure, “We don’t need to start with anything big, just communicate with me.” Another step forward. “Tell me what happened. What Megatron did.”

Vortex’s vents shake, short, breathless and choking. 

And

He laughs. A hard and disgusting series of laughs spill out. He hunches over, holding his sides. He can’t stop. Manic. 

He steps closer to First Aid, who flinches away.

Vortex chuckles, an unhinged tone in his voice, “You wanna know about Megatron? Oh let me tell you about Megatron. Our gracious leader, the wonderful and amazing Lord Megatron, so great that he’s started a war that’s been going on for millions of years!,” Vortex wheezes and laughs, hysterical, “But we still have to follow his every command!”

“Vortex?” First Aid tries to back away, but Vortex grabs him suddenly, clutching onto his shoulder, his other servo digging into the wires. It hurts.

Vortex laughs, manic, short vents in between, “And Shockwave! That one-eyed bitch is something else alright! Oh so loyal to Lord Megatron, willing to follow any command! And! Guess what!?” He pulls First Aid closer, the red glow from his visor overtakes the medic’s vision. “He tore me apart! He tore all of us apart! Locked our components in a cold, metal drawer! For over four million years! Trapped and only able to hear the echo of my own thoughts in a dark void!”

The claws dig deep into the exposed wires. “Vortex—!” First Aid tries to call out, needing to calm down the mech in front of him. His voice won’t reach Vortex. 

“And now here I am! Walking around in this—carcass—that doesn’t even belong to me! I didn’t even get to keep my original frame! It’s gone! Everything is gone!” His voice slowly breaks, “My body! My home! The people I once cared for! Bits and pieces of my memories! My own freedom!”

Vortex stops yelling, his voice box turned to static. His vents struggle to cycle through air. Spark, vents, frame, he chants to himself religiously. You’re not dead. Keep yourself grounded in reality. 

First Aid listens to Vortex mumbling words to himself. His audials can’t pick up on what Vortex is saying, the stress in his spark makes it hard to focus. Whatever Vortex is doing, he’s calming down slowly, so First Aid waits.

Vortex slowly falls to the ground, too weak to keep standing. First Aid helps him slowly descend until they’re both sitting on the asphalt road. The setting sun reached below the horizon, darkening the sky.

First Aid grabs Vortex’s wrist, not to pull it away from him, but gently soothe his servo, much bigger than First Aid’s. 

Vortex sits still, trying to control his vents. He wants to tear into his own helm, scratch and claw until it bleeds, but he keeps his grasp on First Aid, the only thing left to hold on to. 

“Hey. Vortex?” First Aid calls out, getting only a small hum in response. “I’m going to do something. Just tell me if it makes you uncomfortable.” 

First Aid pulls Vortex in closer, and embraces him in a hug. He feels the weight from his shoulder move to behind his back, pressing the two closer together. First Aid notices Vortex’s rotor blades spin slowly. Street lights begin turning on, replacing the glow of the sun, now gone.

The warmth of another frame against Vortex’s feels strange, but comforting. After so many words spilled out, he doesn’t have any more thoughts weighing him down for the time being.

He wishes, for a moment, for everything to just disappear, leaving behind only the two and their embrace…

Fuck. Is he doing this wrong? He hasn’t been given a hug in a long time, or at least one he can remember. He doesn’t want to let go.

First Aid slowly pulls away from the hug, much to Vortex’s disappointment. “I don’t want you to struggle on your own,” First Aid starts, “I know there’s a lot of things you say that I won’t understand, so show me, teach me, because I want to understand you. I want to save you.”

Vortex’s visor glow feels warmer than before, pushing away the strange feeling he got from First Aid’s words.

“My guess was correct, right? From this morning?” First Aid braces himself in case of another violent reaction. “About what happened to you and the other Combaticons.”

Vortex stares at the ground, refusing to say anything. His frame tense, he slowly nods. Struggling to maintain eye-contact, Vortex mumbles, “Will you change the way you treat me?”

“I won’t hate you—”

“Yeah, of course not, I literally tore off your arm and here you are acting like I’m someone who deserves help.” Vortex’s voice is tired and staticky from the meltdown before, “Just- don’t start acting like I can’t take care of myself. Ok?”

First Aid takes Vortex’s pinky finger, interlocking it with his own, “I promise.”

“…What are you doing?” Vortex asks, staring at his hand.

First Aid feels his visor brighten with embarrassment, “Huh? It’s the- It’s a human thing,” he mumbles.

“Humans are weird.”

“They are… interesting.” First Aid’s visor glows softly, “It’s meant to be a sign of sincerity for a promise, however I’ve only seen the little ones do this, so I’m not sure if that helps.”

Vortex stares at First Aid. Not a sign of malice or dishonesty in sight. “ …Fine.” Vortex huffs, “Fine. Just do what you need to do.”

First Aid perks up, “Really?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

First Aid thinks for a moment, before pulling out an adaptor cable from his subspace, coiled up neatly.

Vortex stares blankly, “why do you have that ”

First Aid shrugs. “I’m not actually that confident in my ability to reprogram, so it’d be easier if I directly connected myself to your processor.” he asks, handing it to Vortex.

Vortex takes the cable and uncoils it, “Have you done it before?”

“Yes, but only once. Blades was really into the idea, but also Blades is Blades, hard to get him to not go along with something.” First Aid’s expression drops, “He didn’t seem too happy about it when we were done, then he kind of avoided me for a month or two.”

Vortex ignores the several different theories that popped up in his mind. He tries to ignore thinking about his own team.

“Yeah, I get that.” Vortex finishes uncoiling the cable, handing one end to First Aid. “Guess he didn’t like whatever he saw in there, huh?” he comments, pausing when the medic seems uncomfortable. “What, you a freak or something?” Vortex jokes.

First Aid’s discomfort is replaced with irritation, “Do not call me that.”

“Wasn’t a no,” Vortex laughs.

First Aid’s cooling fans nearly click on from embarrassment, causing Vortex to laugh harder, hunched over and holding his sides. Rotor blades spin with great speed.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better already,” First Aid grumbled with a tone of irony.

First Aid feels around his own helm, digging into a seam, letting segments shuffle around, until revealing the inner workings of his processor, complex machinery and wires. The cool air against open wires sends a small tingle through his frame.

He plugs in his end of the adaptor cable with a small click. 

Focusing back toward Vortex, he waits for the helicopter to follow suit.

Vortex feels around his helm, lost, “Yeah uh. I’ve never done this before.” 

First Aid scoots closer to Vortex, who tenses up. “I won’t do anything besides lead your servos to the correct spots.”

Vortex stops himself from making a rather undignified sound, “Ok.”

First Aid kneels behind Vortex, taking his servo into his own, dragging his finger along a seam on his helm, letting his claw dig into it, and with a click, pieces begin to shuffle around. 

Vortex’s processor is revealed, the first notable detail being the after smell of a short-circuit. His processor is a mess of jumbled wires, unclean and tangled.

Taking Vortex’s end of the cable, First Aid, with a small amount of difficulty, finds the spot to plug into, but—

“We should lay down first,” First Aid suggests, “It’s going to be near instant, and I don’t want to break anything by ragdolling onto the ground.” 

Vortex snickers, “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

“Shut up.”

Laying down next on Vortex’s left, First Aid plugs in the adaptor cable into the helicopter’s processor. Something brushes against his servo and

PROCESSOR……ONLINE

FOREIGN PROCESSOR LINKED

FOREIGN ID NUMBER…[D-66]

ESTABLISHING CONNECTION…

{

NOTICE: FOREIGN PROCESSOR LINKED

FOREIGN ID NUMBER: [C-75]

ESTABLISHING CONNECTION…

CONNECTED

…CONNECTION ESTABLISHED

PLAYING CUSTOM AUTOMATED MESSAGE…

“ HELLO    (・ω・)ノ ”

Hello?

Are you there?

WARNING: HIGH STRESS DETECTED

Vortex?

yeah

i’m here

i’m here

i’m fine

it’s fine

just

feels

bad

We can back out now, if you want?

no

i just 

need

 a klik

Okay

It’s okay

Take your time.

STATUS REPORT;

PRIORITY LIST:

[OPTICS]: FUNCTIONAL

[AUDIALS]: FUNCTIONAL

[VOICE BOX]: FUNCTIONAL

[SERVOS]: FUNCTIONAL

[TRANSFORMATION COG]: FUNCTIONAL

[SPARK]: FUNCTIONAL

… Vortex?

yeah?

Are you feeling better?

i think probably

Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?

nah 

not really

If you say so.

i

…

ok what

what is this (・ω・)ノ

Oh!

Blades showed me those a while back!

I downloaded them because I think they’re cute

(*´꒳`*)

stop

(◞‸◟)

eugh

this feels so weird

it’s like my processor

but now there’s another presence here

You have access to a lot of parts of my processor too

It’s a mutual trust experience type of thing

yeah there’s a lot of info to just look at 

memories and stuff

can access different parts of your frame too

ACCESS: [C-75] [OPTICS]

oh weird i can see your perspective

CANCEL ACCESS:

[C-75] [OPTICS] 

cool

It’s pretty strange to get used to

But it can be fun!

I let Blades mess around with some sensory systems

Felt weird

… uh huh

anyways

let’s just get this over with

ah slag

right

uh

i don’t exactly know how to do this

this whole processor thing

I can see that

shut up.

do you know how to look for something like

uh

something … foreign?

Hmm.

I mean

It would be easier to find if I knew where to look?

wow

great

care to be more specific?

Something like pushback from your own processor would be helpful.

I’d imagine it’s not a big fan of having something that’s not supposed to be there.

oh

OH

yeah i know where to look

(FORCE) INITIATE;

[RECHARGE CYCLE PROCEDURE]

ERROR: ESTABLISHED CONNECTION

UNABLE TO PERFORM ACTION

WARNING: FOREIGN CODE DETECTED

ATTEMPTING REMOVAL…

ERROR: REMOVAL FAILURE

REMOVAL (PAUSED)

there you go

Thanks

Hmmhmmhm

 CONTINUING REMOVAL…

LOCATING FOREIGN CODE… 

…

…

Does that feel weird?

Sorry if it does.

a little yeah

i can feel you picking around at my processor

obviously not physically

but it’s still

eugh

… Sorry.

why do you keep doing that?

Doing what?

apologizing?

for literally everything?

you do it even for things you shouldn’t even be sorry for

I guess it just brings me some comfort?

Maybe it’ll just let me take all the responsibility

And then the other person won’t feel as bad in the long run.

that’s kinda stupid

It is, huh

Now that I’m telling that to someone else.

do you not tell your teammates how you’re feeling or something?

Do you?

…

ok listen

there’s a big difference between how your side acts and how my side acts

ok?

BIG difference

Whatever you say

fggbgbb

buh

anyways

 pretty sure you haven’t even brought up your own team 

besides Blades or whatever

Have I not?

I swear I did a few times.

nah

you just ask me about mine all the time

Ah

I’m just not really sure what to say about them

you not close with them or something?

It’s not that—

I mean

Do you ever get the feeling everyone secretly hates you?

Like everyone just pretends to be nice to you and then one day they’ll all leave you behind?

So you want to keep a distance from everyone, but you’re also scared of being left behind, so you‘re just stuck in between?

wh

no???

i already know everyone hates me

I don't hate you

liar

ok

…

… anyways

still didn’t answer me properly

asked about your team

idiot

I know :(

Uhm

Hot Spot is nice

who?

Defensor’s head and torso

oh

is that all you have to say?

No, it’s just—

He’ll check up on me often.

I mean he does check up on everyone

Making sure team morale is high! 

But he checks up on me twice as much.

I’m not sure why

I think I’m doing fine

mhmm yeahhh suuuure

let's go with that

…

…FOREIGN CODE LOCATED

ACCESSING…

…

It’s taking some time.

a lot of time

…it’s weird

Locating and accessing usually takes a while so don’t worry—

no

not that

i mean this entire

thing

i keep expecting something to just happen

some inconvenience 

and then we’ll have to figure that out before my problems get fixed

Oh.

I mean, there’s a chance we’ll get stopped.

But also, I’d imagine they didn’t think you’d have someone willing to help.

Not to be mean but, you don’t seem like you have close relations with anyone.

i mean

hhgh

yeah sure let’s just go with that

At the same time, Megatron is also just kind of an idiot sometimes, huh?

right?

He’s got his own pede shoved so far up his exhaust pipe that he forgot how to create a strategy that’ll benefit him for over a week.

RIGHT?

Decepticons!

 we need energon for the entire team!! we need to fuel the spacebridge!! 

let’s openly and dramatically take over this powerplant which could offer SO MUCH and then fragging destroy it !!!

he’s stupid

i swear

he’s gone senile 

Let’s create big explosions and draw the attention of the Autobots!!!!

soundwave!!!

 i need you to record my drunk ramblings of how much of a hate boner i have for the prime!!!

Did he actually record that?

nah that was the cassettes

the blue one and red one

funny as hell 

everyone had that recording for like . 2 days

That sounds amazing

yeah

soundwave got rid of it for obvious reasons

and then starscream used that as another ploy for overthrowing megatron

I kind of want to hear it 

hehehehh

Do you…?

hhahahahahaaaa

HahahahHAHAHA

no

Aw

…

bored

Can I ask something?

bout what

if it’s the detention center

then no

No, not that

What does short-circuiting feel like?

oh

it just sucks

Mm.

..you want me to be specific, don’t you

Yes, please.

I’m just curious

I’ve never actually met anyone who went through one

you are the medical expert here

hrm

it’s like feeling nothing and everything at the same time

like your processor wants to just shut down and go numb

but it’s also just 

doing everything?

i dunno

I think I get it?

That sounds too overwhelming for me to handle

the worst part is the aftermath

i just forget certain things

and it’s not like useless information that’s usually cleared out when you recharge

but just entire sections of important memories

i can’t consider it ‘missing’ because that would imply it can be found

it’s just gone

deleted completely

stuff like what i said in an argument

or someone’s name or face

certain textures or sensations

and your processor knows that it’s supposed to know what is gone

but it can’t retrieve that information

so it just feels itchy

and i hate it

eurgh

i rambled too much

my bad

I mean, I was the one who asked

It doesn’t bother me that much

I like listening to others talk

I’m sorry you went through something like that

sounds about right

…FOREIGN CODE ACCESSED

VIEW CODE?

Y/N

Simple as that.

It’d have taken more time if I actually tried to physically reprogram your processor

Time moves differently like this and all that

there’s no way it’s just this easy

right?

there’s gotta be some 

i dunno

firewall?

there’s no way he just placed this in here without protecting the code??

i had an entire meltdown over this and everything

Only one way to find out.

Are you ready?

yeah

yeah ok

Y

…

…

…

“ if MegatronCommand = true; obey 

else set VortexLoyalty = false

if VortexLoyalty = false

cancel (RechargeCycleProcedure)

replay (Memory.DetentionCenter) ”

Oh

can’t ever touch the code but it lets you, huh

Oh.

that’s just mean

i knew shockwave found me annoying

but that’s just messed up mech

I’ll get rid of it now

go for it

FOREIGN CODE SELECTED

DELETING FOREIGN CODE…

23% DELETED…

79% DELETED…

100% DELETED…

…FOREIGN CODE DELETED

that actually worked?

Do you feel any different?

is that it?

What?

that’s all there is?

really?

huh

You seem… upset?

no it’s just

i kinda wanted to-

never mind

i’m not sure what i was expecting

Do you want to disconnect now?

Your energon levels seem low

You should rest and refuel

…

yeah 

why not

DISCONNECT; PROCESSOR [C-75]

DISCONNECTING PROCESSOR [D-66]…

DISCONNECTED

}

DISCONNECTED…

PLAYING CUSTOM AUTOMATED MESSAGE…

“ (^^)／~~~ BYE ” 

First Aid’s optics come back online first, the world filled with shades of monochrome, before finally processing the color around him. The second, his physical senses, and the odd warmth that remains in his servo, but there’s nothing there.

Vortex, taking out his end of the adaptor cable, sits up, staring at the ground for a moment. The panels of his helm click back into place.

He tries to compile all of his thoughts together, everything that's happened, everything he said. It felt strange, not having some odd part of his processor checking everything he did. He’d gotten so used to the presence of being trapped by Shockwave, freedom began to feel unfamiliar.

Thinking back on it now, when was the last time he could’ve actually considered himself to be truly free?

Not in the Detention Center, not under Starscream’s command, not after being reprogrammed. 

Vortex should be happy. And yet, he can’t help but feel a little disappointed. All that time spent, wanting to disappear, wanting to tear out his own processor, wanting some kind of revenge, all gone in a matter of minutes. All that remains for Vortex is a single question.

Now what? 

Vortex turns toward First Aid, who is still lying on the ground, taking out the adaptor cable. “Hey, First Aid?” He calls to the medic. 

The medic, surprised by the sound of his own name, sits up immediately. “Yes?”

Vortex struggles to meet First Aid’s optics, deciding to stare at ground beneath him. “Thanks,” he mumbles, his visor flushed with embarrassment.

First Aid feels his spark burn bright, warm under the plating of his chest. It feels so heavy and light at the same time. A strange feeling. A smile forms under his mask, “You're welcome.”

First Aid likes this feeling. The feeling of being relied on. The feeling of importance. The feeling of helping someone else. There’s something else hidden behind all of that though, one that First Aid wants to ignore right now.

First Aid remembered their promise from earlier, and he’d make sure to keep it. Something still bothers him.

“Think I’ll be able to recharge now?” Vortex asks, startling First Aid out of his thoughts.

“Do you want to try?”

“Sure why not. Tired as hell.” Vortex lies back down with a thud, “Here is fine, we can check out the area later.”

“Okay.” First Aid lies next to him, “Have a nice recharge cycle, Vortex.”

“You too, Aid.”

First Aid stares a little longer at Vortex than he should’ve, before turning his optics offline. Considering he spent most of the day knocked out, he isn’t exactly tired, and just relaxes on the road.

Vortex is a bit uncertain. Even if the code is gone, he still expects the worst. He just tries to relax, focusing on his vents, letting himself slip into recharge. Maybe the rough ground wasn’t the best location to rest, but he’s not in the mood to get up.

The street lights block out the stars, leaving the sky pitch black. Wind chimes can be heard somewhere far in the distance, clinging alongside the whistling wind. 

The air feels colder.

{

DESIGNATION:  [VORTEX]

ID NUMBER: [D-66]

ENERGON LEVELS: 26%

RUNNING [RECHARGE CYCLE PROCEDURE]

[RECHARGE CYCLE];

ACTIVE