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.

Threaded | Flat

Sixshot's been at First Aid's side since the moment he'd been allowed to occupy the space. Sometimes he paces, which probably drove Ratchet up several walls.

Mostly he sleeps.

He's sleeping when First Aid wakes up, curled up in his wolf mode with his nose very, very gently bumping up against the side of the medic's tiny hand.

"First Aid...?"

Ratchet's by the slab and reaching out, curling one of First Aid's mostly-fixed hands in between both of his and pressing very, very gently, his voice raw with staticky exhaustion and relief.

"First Aid, hey. Just--squeeze my hand if you can hear me all right, yeah? Take it slow."

Ambulon finds himself checking First Aid almost obsessively; monitoring his stats and checking to make sure that his replacement parts are integrating successfully.

He startles a bit when his colleague's optics flicker a bit in consciousness.

“First Aid… can you hear me?"

It's been an exhausting week.

Between managing more rogue Decepticons and trying to keep the shaky, tentative peace in the city, doing familiar work in the clinic was calming to him. Even though First Aid was there under circumstances he'd do anything to reverse, going through the motions of checking his vitals and helping nurse him from near death brought an odd form of ease to his mind.

It seemed paradoxical, how gentle and quiet he was while managing the machinery that helped keep First Aid alive. When everything seemed to check out, he just sat by the medic's berth, resting his head in his arms on the emptier end by First Aid's feet. It's only now that he realizes it's been a few weeks since he's recharged.