Chapter Text
Knockout was practically dragging your body at this point. With a scowl on his face he pressed his comm link to Breakdown. “Breakdown! Come help me with this!” He all but screamed into the comm link. If it weren’t for Megatron's demand to repair you with a special request Knockout would have tossed your body into the furnace so they could recycle your metal.
He hadn’t had time to check your vitals with Megatron growling at him and your motionless frame to get out of his sight. He had grabbed you by your shoulders and picked you up, hauling you over his shoulder. Your ripped wings leaked energon and Knockout audibly grumbled as he continued to walk down the halls of the Nemesis. The open wound’s blood seeped down to your shoulders and fell in small droplets onto his shoulder, practically covering himself in your blood at this point. Knockout had to keep himself from just dragging you by your arm but knew better.
Breakdown met him halfway, a smile on his lips and waving his hand. He noticed the bot on his shoulders and gave him a curious look. “What is-“
“She is ruining my paint job. Here-“ Knockout pulls you off his shoulders, your limbless body swinging in his hold. “Take her. We’re going to my med bay so that I can repair her. I’ll need your help.” He huffs out, leaving no room for argument with his annoyed expression.
Breakdown quickly reaches for you, not looking to start an argument with his partner. He adjusts you so that he’s carrying you by the underside of your neck and legs, your body being near weightless to him. Your hands swing down and Breakdown frowns, “You should be gentle with her. You’re supposed to fix her right?” Knockout rolls his optics, he wipes at the blood on his frame and makes a disgusted look. Without another word passed between them they begin to make their way back to the med bay.
“Where do I put her? All the berths are flat. Her wings are injured.” Breakdown speaks when they enter the med bay. He holds you against his chest cautiously, he eyes your Autobot logo and can’t be confused at the situation.
Knockout closes the door behind them and waves his hand dismissively, “I have a custom berth for seekers. Starscream has had his wings injured more than enough times.” Knockout goes over to his desk, clicking a simple button. Mechanical whirs and a click is heard as a berth pops up from the ground, a berth frame with two large holes on it stands on the side. “Just toss her in there and tie her so she doesn’t fall over. I’ll go get my tools.” Knockout grumbles, still upset about his ruined paint.
Breakdown gently lays your frame against the standing berth, he’s careful with your frame, not wanting to injure it more than it already has been. You perfectly fit into the berth, your wings sliding through the open slots. He places your head back, using a latch to carefully seal your neck back. It clicks in place and he does the same with your wrists and ankles. As he finishes your wrist he smiles to himself, proud for being able to hand you with care.
But before he can pat himself on the back your body begins to convulse. “Uh Knockout?” He takes a step back, unsure on what to do. Your body arches and shakes, it’s a good thing he had locked you in safely before that.
Knockout walks to your side, a calm look on his face. “She’s fine. Kind of expected this to happen.” Knockout pulls a machine with a monitor on it that Breakdown has no clue about and connects it to your neck. He curses when you avoid the wire with your shaking form. When he’s able to insert it, the monitor blinks on, revealing your vitals. They’re all over the place, jumping up hazardly. Breakdowsn frowns, crossing his arms.
Knockout glances at the monitors, a frown on his lips as well, “Guess her controlled stasis couldn’t handle the intensity of the injury. It’s forcing her to wake up so that she can attend to it.” He explains to his partner. “Could you hold her down, darling? Need to force her under stasis now. Don’t know what it’ll do at this point but it will work.” Breakdown complies, going up to your still shaking form. He’s able to easily pin your top side, Knockout slips beside him, needle in hand and inserts it into your neck. Breakdown releases you, his hands still close to your shoulders in case. You throttle around before coming to a sudden halt. Your body loosens and then slumps. The bigger mech worriedly looks at the monitor and lets out a relieved sigh when he sees that your vitals have slowed down.
Knockout nods to himself and then goes to the back of the berth, “Will she be fine?” Breakdown asks in a curious tone.
Knockout peeks his head from the back of the berth, “Are you really asking me that?”
Breakdown shrugs, “I’ve never seen you work on something this intense. Where are her wings? How are you going to attach them?” He takes a look around, unsure if he had missed them when he entered the med bay.
“This is nothing. And they’re not here,” he refers to the wings, “Megatron told me how to treat her. In a pretty gruesome way if I say so myself.” Knockout turns his head back to your injury. He begins stringing out tools and meticulously starts working on your open wounds. A small whirling begins to fill the room. “At this rate of blood loss I’ll need extra doses of energon. Do you mind going down and getting some for me?”
“Sure.” Breakdown grunts out, beginning to make his way out.
“Thanks, sweetspark.” Knockout calls out as he continues to work.
Your headspace is empty. Your internal sensors are able to feel how cold it is in the black landscape making you shiver and hold yourself close. You’re unable to think and process your thoughts as you sit there for a while. The clinking is at your side without fault and you want to start laughing.
You’re able to feel hands on you but don’t see any. You blink and when you open them again a bright light consumes your vision. You groan and then an intense pain begins to fill your senses. It’s a burning hot itchy feeling that surrounds your body and you open your mouth, a pained cry escaping your lips.
Someone yells and a big mech with an orange and blue finish comes into your vision, he stares at you, his lips in a thin frown and scrunched eyebrows. He says something but not to you as another voice coming from behind you replies. The mech in front of you uses a soft tone while the one behind you is clearly upset about something. You begin to thrash around but the big mech throws his hands up, hesitant to touch you but when the voice behind you yells the mech places his hands on your shoulder. His hands are much bigger than your shoulder and he’s able to hold your body down easily.
You protest, letting out a moan and sob, trying to form words of pleas to make the pain stop but only incoherent whispers leave. You feel a stinging at your back, something pressing against your wings and you gasp, your talons scratching at the metal berth you're strapped to. You try to beg them to not hurt you any further and throw your head back, letting out one more sob before your vision goes black again.
You’re woken up by a quiet beeping at the side of your receptor. You’ve been moved on a berth that’s laying down. You recognize the familiar setting of the medical bay and begin to lean yourself up. A hand quickly comes to your chest, gently pushing you down. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” A deep, soft tone offers. You flinch and the hand quickly retracts as if apologizing for making you uncomfortable. You follow the hand up to see the familiar face of earlier that had held you down.
You open your mouth to ask a question, he puts a finger up, as if shushing you. You frown, when he turns walking over to a table. You realize you’re no longer tied down and lift your arm up to your face. You try to recall what exactly has happened as you focus on the dents of your palm. Megatron… his name comes first to your mind. A stinging pain consumes your back and you let out an uncomfortable sound.
“Here, drink this.” The mech comes back with a cube of energon in both his hands. He places them on the counter next to you before hesitantly moving his hands up to your back. When you don’t protest this time he begins to lift you until your half sat on the berth. He hands you your drink, helping you drink it. You manage to down the drink and cough when he pulls the cup away. He rubs your shoulder soothingly, being careful to avoid your back.
A silence fills the room as he leans on his chair and drinks his own energon cube. He doesn’t stare at you, avoiding your optics, taking the floor as interest. You press your palms to your thighs, “Why am I not offline?” You finally ask. He looks up at you about to speak when a voice interrupts him.
“Megatron’s orders.” Knockout’s familiar voice comes from the front of the room. He enters with tools in his hands, a buffer on and pressed against his chest. “Had to go clean up. Nice that you’ve already met my assistant Breakdown.” He shares the mech's name nodding towards him. Breakdown fixes you a half smile before going over to Knockout and helping him out with the box of tools. He points at where he wants them and he happily obliges.
“Why am I alive? How…?” You break off, unsure if you really want to know. You wanted to live at that moment, you remember, but you’re unsure now. It feels like you should be dead.
Knockout walks over to your berth, arms crossed. “Megatron said you’d be of use to us. And it’d be best if I showed you now rather than you realizing later on. Besides, I can't imagine how painful you’re going to feel for a couple of weeks.” Knockout gestures for you to get up, holding your arm as you do so. You give him a puzzled look but he pays you no mind.
You’re able to stand with his help and he leads you to a mirror. “Like I said, Megatron's orders.” You’re about to ask him what he means by that but he nods his head towards the mirror.
Your reflection makes you want to gag. And you do, pulling yourself away from Knockout's grip, your hand shoots to your mouth, covering it. You want to keep in the intake you might release and as you back up you stumble over yourself. Knockout curses, reaching for your arm so you don’t fall on your back. You want to sob out and scream but nothing escapes as lonely tears begin to stream down your cheek.
Where had once been your sleek wings were now replaced with torn, sharp edges. Hints that they had been crudely sealed to prevent blood loss cover the wounds. You could barely see the tip of what was left of your wings on your back so you turn to get a better view. Your hands pull from Knockout as you run them over your shoulder, hesitant to touch the remains. You decide not to.
You had barely used your wings during the war of Cybertronian but before that they were everything to you as any Cybertronian who valued their cog would be. You recall being able to soar the sky in races and enjoy the breeze past you. Your wings were a part of who you were, unused or not.
You let out a sob, falling to your knees, hunched over and clasping yourself tightly. Your cooling fans blast to keep your thoughts intact and so you wouldn’t pass out from the stress. The mech beside you says nothing, looking away. He squints, looking away from your position. He feels some remorse, only because you had shown him kindness.
You lay in that position until your throat becomes dry. Your sobs turn quiet and your body trembles in the silence of the room. Knockout purses his lips, crouching down to your level. He whispers your name, soothingly. “Let’s get you back on the repair berth. You need rest.” Despite his offer you feel the opposite. You’re not tired like you were before. You had rested for far too long already. You clench your teeth, your vision going red for a second. Your talons clench the floor, scrapping it. A final tear falls from your cheek, hitting the floor.
Knockout reaches for your shoulder but your sensors activate and your hand snaps to his, smacking it away. He reels back, standing. You stand as well, you stare at the ground for a second before looking up at his optics. Giving him a hard, cold stare you ask, “Where will I be working?”
Knockout walks in front of you, a smirk on his face and a bounce to his step. He strides with confidence, humming to himself. He stops in front of a door attached to the med bay, “Alright, here’s your lab.” He doesn’t mention how it was his before Megatron ordered you to be transferred and be responsible for it. A small part of Knockout is bummed at the idea of not being able to control the conduction of what experiments go down anymore but he doesn’t bother to voice that. He had seen the look on Megatron's face when you lay underneath him, out cold and your energon pooling around you. You were something important to the Decepticon leader, Knockout could see that himself. The way his optics burned with anger, anger that had only shown just how much he cared for you still.
“Thanks.” Came your voice from behind him. You step inside the room, noting how large and spacious it was. The walls were lined with various tools and materials, all dimmed in the scarce light that was in the room. Exactly what you would need. Your talons itched with a sense of excitement. The room gave off the same familiar feeling of your old labs in Cybertron.
Knockout notices the way you react and lets out a chuckle, leaning against the wall. He gestures to the largest screen monitor nearby, “Since Lord Megatron still doesn’t trust you yet, you’ll be working under me. Reporting to me any of your findings.” He points at the door you had just come in through and then another on the side. “That one leads back to my lab and that one leads to the hallway of the ship.”
You approach the monitor, running your sharp talons over the keys. “Of course.” You answer in a respective tone. “When do I start?”
Knockout shrugs, “Anytime really.” He notices your hard focus on the keys and decides this is the best time to pry, he leans over towards the desk, looking down at you, “Say,” he begins, pulling the ‘y’ with his silky tone, “us finding you, with an Autobot logo and all, I’m quite surprised you haven’t been offlined. I couldn’t help but notice and assume that maybe you and Megatron have a past-“
Your talons press against the keys, almost crushing them under the pressure. You give him a slide glare, your optics shimmering with caution, “You assume too much, Knockout. Megatron saw it more logical to keep me at his side as a mere tool to help aid his war against the Autobots. He has seen my work before the war but that is all.” You lie, looking over at the monitor. Your optics scan the screen looking at what you’ll be able to work with.
Knockout leans back, pulling his hands up defensively. “Right. Of course. None of my business.” When you don’t respond he tilts his head to the side, his optics scan your chest, your Autobot insignia still prominent. “You’ll have to have that insignia switched. Let me know when you’ve made yourself comfortable and we can start that process.” Again, you do not reply to him. Your optics stick on the screen and your talons flying across the keyboard.
Knockout says nothing as he makes his leave. As he approaches the door your voice calls his name. He raises his brow, turning halfway. With your head still towards the screen you speak in a clear tone, “Thank you.”
Knockout can’t help but smile, letting out a breath, he replies almost immediately, “Of course, Sweetspak. Anytime.” He exits the room and the door shuts, leaving you alone in the emptiness of the room.
The silence of the room is filled with your constant clicking and noises of the monitor as you begin document notes that you’re able to recall. You decide to invest your time in researching Earth, the planet the Nemesis resides on and where you had crash landed. Your wings itch at moments but you bite your lip and continue working, ignoring the distractions. You know Megatron as an impatient being and to add on that you’re not on his good side right now you know you’ll have to figure out a presentation soon.
You decide this is what’s best. To isolate yourself and make sure no one gets close again. Not like how Ratchet and Wheeljack did. Those names are distant to you but you recall how they felt against you, Wheeljack’s hands across your cheek and Ratchet’s tired voice filling your receptor.
“Regretting switching sides already?” You freeze, your talons hovering over the keys. You place a hand on the desk and turn. The seeker from before stands in front of the door leading to the hallway. His lips are pursed and he glares at you. His silhouette is darkened by the light coming from the hallway and you have to look away to keep yourself from scowling at his interruption, avoiding any conflict.
Starscream doesn’t enjoy your nonchalant attitude. He scoffs, “Do you think yourself so high and mighty just because Megatron has allowed you into our ranks so easily?” He approaches you, his heels clicking against the metal of the floor. The sound causes you to gain a headache and you let out an annoyed sigh. “He should have offlined you where you stood.”
“Well he didn’t.” You shoot back, finally biting. He raises his brow at you, surprised by that.
His expression quickly changes back to an annoyed one. “You must not know who I am.” He raises his hand to his chest, his wings fluttering up in pride, “I am Starscream, second in command to the Nemesis.”
Your wings, or what’s left of them, twitch down in annoyance, “I work under Knockout. There’s no point in knowing you. You can go back out from where you came in- I’m busy.”
Starscream’s hand snaps down holding a fist he practically yells at you, “Why you embarrassment of a seeker-“ his hand shoots towards you but in pure instinct you're able to avoid his touch, backing away. He curses out loud and goes to reach for you again. You’re able to avoid his reach again and he embarrassingly stands straight. “You’re an annoying pest.”
You roll your optics, “Just leave. You gain nothing here in this situation.”
Starscream decides, for some reason, to let it go. He places his hands on his hips, “Fine. Only because I want to.”
You have to keep yourself from laughing at his face, instead you nod, speaking in a softly hidden sarcastic tone, “Of course. I bet you’ve got much more important things to do.”
The second in command continues to stand there despite his words. He takes his time being obvious at looking at your form and when he gets to your ripped wings, he winces. He doesn’t try to hide the fact that he’s internally cringing at your situation. He’d seen punishments similar to this done by Megatron. such as missing wheels, arms, legs, wings, but it was the fact that you were still kept alive for this long that made him sick. Megatron had never shown this kind of cruelty to even himself. Starscream could only wonder what real intentions Megatron had for you.
Starscream continued to stare at your wings, his optics never wavering. You could practically read what was going on through his processor. Finally, it was too much, you grow embarrassed despite your uncaring attitude. You wouldn’t care if he stood and stared if it wasn’t for the small amount of pride you still held for yourself.
You curl your fist, staring at him, you stand straight, doing your best to hide your fractured wings behind your back. He blinks, coming out of his trance. His optics go to yours, as if silently communicating with you; He feels bad for you. But he won’t admit his shared sympathy towards you, not out loud at least. He didn’t want to know why he felt this way, maybe because of the way your optics looked at him, the pained look behind them, or simply because you were a seeker and it was a hidden shared link all seekers share. Starscream hopped for the latter.
Without a second word he leaves, he hesitates to open the door but he takes an intake in and continues, slamming the door behind him. You stand there, in the dim lighted darkness of the room. You scoff and decide to continue working, letting the event pass as if it was nothing but an afterthought.
Your stay on the Nemesis was, what you were assuming, definitely permanent. Megatron had not visited, you had not been summoned, there was no visible sign that you would be offlined anytime soon.
You didn’t ask questions, deciding that the better solution would just be to dive yourself into your work. Your prolonged stasis comma had terminated plenty of your notes but having access to the Nemesis' monitor systems made it so that you were able to salvage certain notes from your processor. A lot of your time was spent on that and so you’d report to Knockout about it. Knockout spent what time you’d allow him in your lab to try to figure you out. He’d sneakingly slip in personal questions while asking questions about your report. You’d glare at him, avoiding those questions.
When Breakdown visited it would be a much more common and calmer instance than Knockout's visit. He’d come in, no words said except a simple exchange of ‘hello’, with energon in his hands and sit and drink with you. He didn’t pry, instead, listened to your typing and watched what you would be writing down. He didn’t understand a thing, having only been taught the basics by Knockout.
At some point, in the silence, you decided to speak. “How long have you been on the Nemesis?” You don’t look away from your screen as you ask.
Breakdown is leaning against his chair, watching your monitor screen. When you finish asking him the question he stands straight. He thinks about the question, scratching his cheek, “Well… I was with another team during Cybertronian.” He pauses, as if thinking about something. “When we had to evacuate I spent about… two millenium with that team until I had to transfer.”
You raised your brow, “You transferred?”
He nods, “Yeah. I would have transferred sooner but I got injured during a battle. It’s a long story…” you notice his uncomfortable shift and decide not to press on.
Deciding to break the awkward tension you clear your throat, “I’ve been working on restoring my notes. A lot of it was kept in a file inside my processor.” You tap your helm, “Unfortunately, during my long stasis lock a lot of it was lost or has been corrupted.”
“Is it important?”
“Very.”
Breakdown hums, looking from the screen to the back of your head. He eyes your wings before continuing to stare at the screen. “What is it?”
You’re unsure if you want to share with him, not wanting to disturb him. “Experiments I conducted while in Cybertronian.”
“Like?”
You open your mouth awkwardly, “Just curiosities of the Cybertronian body that crossed my mind while in my isolation-“ you stop shortly, realizing what you’ve revealed.
Breakdown leans forward, “Isolation? Weren’t you an Autobot?”
You take a long pause, Breakdown notices your change in demeanor but waits to see if you’ll explain or not. He has no intention of outing you if you’re lying to Megatron. By the look of your wings you’re suffering enough as it is. “I was an Autobot. For two weeks before the evacuation. Before that I was alone since before the war started.” You finally decide to say, pausing and rubbing your face. You’re frustrated at yourself for not being able to keep your lie up. You’re expecting Breakdown to get up and immediately report to Megatron.
Breakdown’s hand comes up, he wants to pat your shoulder. He couldn’t imagine how it felt to be alone. He hated the thought of it. Breakdown likes being valued, he likes being sought upon by his leader and going pede to pede with Bulkhead. It gave him purpose.
He hesitates at first but does so, leaving his hand there. You piqué up, looking over at him, your optics wide. “My old frame was destroyed in a battle in Cybertron. It was modified into this. I was weak before, not now, not ever again.” His gruff voice turns dark as he squeezes your shoulder. The shared information makes you softly smile at the mech. You place your hand over the one he has on your shoulder. You both stare at each other, taking in the calmness of the situation and shared trust.
You open your mouth, about to speak, when a sudden knocking and shifting is heard. Knockout enters the room without your approval, data pad in hand. He looks bored until he spots the both of you, leaned so close. His optics perk in mild interest and annoyance, placing his hand on hip he coldly laughs, he waves the data pad, “Oh? Having fun with the new femme are we Breakdown?” You wince at the disapproving star, avoiding his teasing stare.
Breakdown lets out a sigh, apologizing, “We were just talking.” He pulls himself away from you, stepping up. He looms over you, his back to you. “Soundwave just sent me coordinates for a mission. I’ll see you guys later.” Breakdown mumbles. With Knockout leaned against one of the entrances to your room he takes the other one leading to the hallway.
Knockout watches him go until he’s out of the room. He lets a scoff escape his lips. His annoyed look quickly dissipates once he sets his optics on you. Your lips thin and you tap your thigh in a nervous way. “Anyways,” he comes up to you, standing in front of you with his hip popped out. He puts his hand on his hip and waves the data pad towards you. “You can write up your report here.”
You nod and take it from him. He gives you a look over before shrugging his shoulders and making his leave. You wonder what that was about.
The day quickly comes to an end and you’re left cleaning your mess. To double check if your notes were being deciphered correctly you had begun constructing them. In your craze you had sprawled various bolts and scraps across the tables. You fiddle with a certain bolt in your hand, you had used another one like this on your tool.
You glance at your tool that lay completely finished, lit up by the one lamp in the room. It’s purpose was to extract excruciating pain underneath the panels of a bot so that they’d be unable to reach the spot so it could be treated. You hadn’t been able to test it out and pondered for a second if you should conduct it on yourself.
The thought leaves your head when a clicking just above your head is heard. You feign ignorance, approaching your main table. Clicking on the tool, in one swift moment you throw it towards the sound. When nothing happens you shrug your shoulders, blaming your schizophrenia. The tool falls down and you go to fetch it, then something above lets out a small screeching, pained sound. The object falls from where it had been perched in the deep darkness of the ceiling, crashing onto the ground.
You hum and approach it. Within nano klicks your lifting it and rushing it to your desk. You push everything off the table, clearing space. You recognized the shape of it immediately.
Lazerbeak lay on your table, letting out whirls of pain and his small foot twitching. You check his small metal plates and find the spot you’d hit him. Luckily it was the underside of his bottom wing. You hush the bird, soothing it with soft caresses on his upper wing.
“Give me one klick. I need to grab my tools. Stay still for me… you’ll only hurt yourself more.” You whisper to the bird.
You rush to grab your materials. Within the promised klick you’re back at his side. The bird continues to shiver and you inject a numbing dose into his bottom wing. It works as the bird stops shivering, still letting out slow whirls. You find a stool and begin to work on the wing, deciding replacing the bottom wing would work better. “I’m sorry about that. I panicked. Sometimes I hear voices. If I knew it was you, old buddy, I would have never done that to you.” Your words work on the bird as his whirls stop.
It only takes half a cycle for you to replace the wing. The surgery is successful and just in time the numbing dose wears off. You hum as the birds replace wing twitches, noting how he was able to adapt to the new wiring system so quickly. Lazerbeak waits as if waiting for you to say anything. “You should be fine. Go ahead.” You urge the little bot. He lets out a cautious whirl, lifting himself off the floor. When he doesn’t run into any problems he lifts himself off higher until he’s out of reach of you. He lets out a happy screech, zooming around the room.
You smile, seeing him so happy. You reach your hands up and the bird quickly comes back to you. You wrap your hands around Lazerbeak, “Just as how I remember you.” You place a soft kiss on his top wing. It chirps, “Where are the others?” You ask. Immediately Lazerbeak becomes stiff. You raise your brow in confusion. He pulls himself away from you, hovering just in front of you. You approach the bird but it backs away. He begins to take off, towards the door leading to the hallway.
You chase him, “Wait- Lazerbeak?” The doors slide open and in your rush you slam your face into a steel wall, bouncing off and your bottom hitting the floor. A steel wall? Right in front of your door? You hold your helm and groan.
A click is heard and you look up. Your optics widen for a second, seeing a familiar face. Or rather, a mask.