robothell | (no subject)

Who: First Aid & open
What: post-Tarn drama
When: SHRUG
Where: Autobot Medibay
Warnings: mention of horrible robot gore, hospital setting

First Aid was conscious before he had sight, but the damage to his brain made him too confused to really react much, so eventually he just faded back to unconsciousness. The next time he onlined it was to test his eyes, and he remembers flinching at the light as the freshly built apertures of his optics cycled to pinpoints. Funny, he can't feel his face. That's mildly alarming.

Coherency was a slow build, but by the time First Aid felt fully awake he finally was aware enough of his surroundings to realize where he was, but not entirely how he ended up there. His whole body ached, and he didn't have the strength to lift his hands to his still numb face.

Even after the surgery his frame was sort of a mess of patches of weld marks, not yet fully integrated with his auto-repair to be painted over. His face itself was the worst part, having suffered the most damage, and most of it was a dull gray instead of his usual bright white.

Recharge didn't quite seem too unpleasant, especially when confined to a slab and hooked up to life support and IVs feeding fuel directly into his lines.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ambulon.

It warmed his spark to see his friend. First Aid realizes every day with Ambulon nearby was a gift, but right now he was feeling so very happy to see him. Part of him realizes he could just be dying; it wasn't uncommon for mechs to get sappy when the spark was weak.

"Mmm." It's a small confirmation. He's been in and out of wakefulness for a bit now. When you had medics hovering around you like a swarm of metal mites, there wasn't much to do besides rest.

[Ambulon reaches out, placing his hand over First Aid’s. He sees no point in not be honest with him.]

You had us worried…I wasn’t sure that you would make it when you were brought in. You’ve been making an incredible recovery.

[He squeezes gently, running his thumb over his his still injured knuckles.]

Ambulon wasn't ever good for keeping secrets anyway, and when he tried usually First Aid could tell. He's nosy like that and working together so long meant that he'd learned Ambulon's particular... tics.

"I still can't feel my face."

Funny, on Messatine he had always found Ambulon kind of a gearstick. Getting away from Pharma's leadership did a lot for their friendship. He squeezes his hand, weakly, keeping it in his grip.

"Yeah that might take a bit of time; Tarn really did a number on it.”

First Aid was victim to Ambulon’s worst fear. He can’t imagine what he felt as Tarn ripped into him. He knows that there is nothing that he could have done to stop it, but he can’t help but feel something like guilt. Like it should have been him. The Decepticon deserter, living right under the DJD’s nose for all those years.

All Ambulon knows is he doesn’t want to let go of his friend.

"I'm still handsome though, right?"

First Aid is trying to take some humor in it. He tries shifting, but he aborts it quickly as a stab of pain lances through his hip. He couldn't even prop himself up to get a better look at it.

He just manages to hold back a hiss. He doesn't want Ambulon to worry too much.

Ambulon rolls his eyes, smirking.

“Good to know your sense of humor is still intact.”

The sudden stillness in First Aid’s frame betrays his pain. Ambulon immediately locks on to it.

“What’s bothering you?"

So much for trying to hide pain. First Aid exhales that hiss he was holding and shrugs slowly. His shoulders at least work fine without pain, which means he can use them to be sassy.

"My hip hurts." It's no wonder, considering it was slowly peeled and carved away from his body, but to be honest First Aid's memory became a haze after his optics were ruined.

“That’s reasonable, the hip joint still has some repairs needed. The damage was extensive…but obviously you know that…” Ambulon trails off, a little bit embarrassed. He quickly sets to work replacing the pain dampener chip.

“How much do you remember?” He’s shamefully and morbidly curious. It isn’t often that anyone lives to see another day after a run in like that with Tarn.

Although it seems to be happening more often lately. Maybe he’s losing his touch.

As the chip is replaced, the pain fades to a dull ache and First Aid's frame begins to relax. The question makes him tense again though as he tries thinking back to what he remembers.

"I-I remember..." Thinking about it made him feel ill. It made him think of the badly mangled mechs on Messatine, barely alive. Had he looked like that when they brought him into the medical bay?

"He... crushed my vocalizer, and ruined my eyes, and then things..."

“It’s alright…Don’t push yourself.” Ambulon gently grabs First Aid’s shoulder in an attempt to ground him. “I shouldn’t have asked.” Ambulon knows better. After such a traumatic experience, First Aid should be focusing on recovering, not panicking over painful memories. Ambulon tries to distract him.

“At least he received a bit of divine retribution. Ratchet really put Tarn in his place."

First Aid's thoughts are caught in a loop. He feels nauseated thinking about Tarn, unsafe, and his venting hitches when Ambulon moves his hand to his shoulder. His body wants to flinch, but he doesn't have the strength to move much.

"Ratchet?" Oh, God. Why? Tarn would be back to tear him apart eventually. There's no way his pride would allow it.

"No..."