Chapter Text
The room was dark. First Aid couldn’t see anything clearly, except the curtains on the window frames.
He could only hide in a small corner of the medbay, gripping his legs tightly with his back to the wall, optics trying hard not to look at the door as he waited for the battle outside to cease. The sound of guns being fired filled his audials, making him fear whatever was going to happen. The moonlight from one of the window fell right on the door, right on where on the other side the battle was happening. He kept his grip on his legs, trying not to start shivering.
It was a bit curious why the Decepticons would attack the Protectobots HQ. It was located in the middle of a human city, yes, but they couldn’t let the humans help them. The Cons were too dangerous, and the casualties would be too much. Besides, the Cons beat them on numbers. They needed the other Autobots. It would be a while before they arrived here.
He was cleaning up the medbay when the attack happened, and now, he was trapped and couldn’t help his gestalt.
A loud explosion caught himself off-guard. Looking at the door, he was glad that it still was able to hold whatever caused the explosion.
“Aid, are you still in the medbay?!” Hot Spot called him through the gestalt bond. He could feel him holding up a Decepticon in front of the hallway to the medbay.
“Yes! What are we going to do?! The other Autobots haven’t come here yet!”
A loud explosion echoed away from the hallway and he whimpered.
“Is any of you hurt?!”
“We’re fine, Aid!” Groove told him in that easy tone of his. “Hold up, Aid! I’m still trying to get your weapons! The cons are busting our quarters, too!”
Hot Spot then warned him. “Watch up, Aid! A con is going to the medbay! I can’t hold him!”
First Aid panicked and gasped.
“Who?!”
The door then suddenly blasted open. First Aid whimpered, shivering. He didn’t dare look up, the sight of big legs on the top of his vision convinced him so. However, when nothing happened, he dared himself to just get a small peek and he looked at the door, trying to make up who the uninvited visitor was, but suddenly he regretted doing so.
It was that six-changer of the Decepticons.
And he saw him.
He didn’t listen to Hot Spot’s screams for him to run through the bond, nor the sound of the other Autobots coming from the windows. He stared right at him.
And he stared back.
Then he walked closer with those blazing red optics of him still staring into his blue visor.
First Aid was terrified of the big Decepticon coming near him. He scrambled back, unable to process anything to do, anything, except to stay back from that weapon of mass destruction. He didn’t even dare to throw anything at him, in fear he’d antagonise him and making him think of him as a threat and decided to shoot him and, and…
“Stay away!”
He didn’t listen—why would he—to his scream. It made him more terrified when the Decepticon stood up right in front of him. His frame was trembling; he couldn’t do anything except trying to be smaller than he already was.
“Please stay away…”
Then he fell. The con fell into his front, and First Aid screamed as blue fluid of blood washed his helm. He scrambled back uselessly, trying to press himself to the wall more, holding up the sides of his helm with his hands and closed his optics. Sixshot clawed his digits onto his pedes. Then a shoot happened. And another one. He screamed again.
“Aid?”
Knowing that voice, he stopped screaming and looked up. It was Groove, holding a prototype weapon from Wheeljack that he saw a few days ago and the medic’s own gun.
“It’s better now. He’s dead.” He threw his weapon to First Aid. First Aid caught it with his still-trembling hands and stared at Sixshot. There’s a hole in his shoulder, and one near his spark. He couldn’t see any lights glowing from his spark; he was dead.
“Come on,” Groove said. “we still have Cons to shoot.” Then he left. The shooting from outside the medbay then slowly ceased.
First Aid stood up slowly, still trembling, with gun in hand. He stared at it, thinking whether he should join the others or go hide in his room until any one of them fetched him. He was a medic, for Primus’ sake, he wasn’t meant to kill…
The big con under him twitched, meaning that he was still alive.
Surprised, he gasped and stayed back, fingers tight on the gun. He pointed his gun, prepared to shoot him again in the head, but stopped when he saw a light peeked out from his spark chamber. A faint light.
He stopped and pull back his gun. He was a medic; he wasn’t meant to kill.
First Aid couldn’t just stare at an injured mech and do nothing. It was against his nature.
But it was an enemy. A Con who had killed maybe a million in his existence. A weapon of mass destruction.
Something deep in his spark told him to repair this mech.
“First Aid, where are you?!”
“I left him on the medbay. He’s fine now.”
First Aid ignored the battering on the bond. Blades and Streetwise now joined them.
What should he do? He couldn’t repair this mech, but he couldn’t just leave him either.
“Aid?! For Primus’ sake please answer me!”
First Aid twitched and answered the bond.
“I-I’m here. I’m s-still on the medbay. I need to do something.”
He didn’t hear the answer. He was busy trying to move the enormous frame to a nearby berth.
It took him some time to drag him away from near the door to the closest berth. His frame was a very heavy one, and First Aid was just as tall as his lower chest. His mask and his optics were broken, shattered from the fall.
He plugged him into a spark-support machine and cleaned him from any blood in his frame. The hole near his spark and his shoulder would regenerate by self-repair. He closed the hole using a bandage because he couldn’t find any other choice.
For now, there’s nothing more he could do than just wait. He looked once more to the still frame on the berth, then headed off the medbay.