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The medbay was swamped.
Every single berth was occupied with groaning, moaning, injured Autobots. At one point, Ratchet had to clear off his desk to make room for another patient. He, First Aid, and Ambulon were kept on their toes, rushing back and forth between patients, gathering supplies, making sure everyone was stable.
The explosion had fortunately been very minor. No causalities. Just over fifteen injured. Nothing too serious, but a few did require some intensive work. Everyone would live. Meanwhile, Magnus and a few others remained on the planet's surface, dealing with the once hostile natives that had translated their attempt to communicate as a threat. They had managed to settle things before anymore explosives could be thrown and Autobots could be stuffed into the medbay, however. Though it was clear the natives were still wary and ready to fight if the alien "intruders" made one more false move.
Now it was up to the medics to clean up the mess.
The final patient had been brought in. Arm blasted off, but it was a clean cut. No blood, nothing that would require intensive surgery. Just some tweaking and re-connecting of circuits and plating. Cyclonus unceremoniously dropped the Autobot on the berth; by this time, patients were trickling out, clearing up the medbay. The 'bot scowled angrily at Cyclonus who just turned and left without a word.
Ambulon gathered up the Autobot's mech specs and read them over as he headed to his side. Before he could even speak, let alone assess the damage, the Autobot's optic band tightened and he said, grumbling, "I want to see Ratchet."
Ambulon's optics shuttered. "He's with another patient," he answered a second later.
"First Aid then."
Ambulon stared. He didn't need to say anything as First Aid rushed by, balancing a box of supplies. The Autobot twitched in his berth and looked away. "Then I'll wait," he said.
Ambulon's frown twitched. "Your arm was severed cleanly from its joint, by the looks of it," he began his assessment, glancing between the patient's chart and shoulder nub, "where is it, by the way? Is Cyclonus--"
"I said," the Autobot interjected, visor flashing as he met the medic's gaze, "I'll wait."
"Don't be stupid," Ambulon snorted, and the Autobot scowled. "I'm sorry I don't have my medical credentials on me right now, but maybe after I've put you back together, I'll go--"
"Look!" the Autobot snapped and raised his only hand, silencing Ambulon. "I don't want you to treat me, okay? I'll wait for Ratchet or First Aid. I'm in no real danger, right?"
Ambulon hesitated. "No, you're not."
"Then let me be," the Autobot growled and laid back, offlining his blue optic band.
The medic had a hunch why the Autobot was refusing his treatment. Yet Ambulon liked to think that this kid wasn't a complete moron. "My background will not affect your treatment or how I handle your case," he said, firmly. "Now," he cleared his vocalizer, sat the datapad at the foot of the bed. The small medical scanner flipped open his right eye, winked online, and he leaned forward, hand out to study the wound. "If you're quite done acting like a cycle-old protoform, I'd like to do my j--"
"Don't touch me!" the Autobot barked.
"You listen to me, soldier. I'll touch you in any way or manner that my professional judgment indicates."
In a flash matching the flare of the blue visor, the Autobot reached up and snatched Ambulon by the wrist. Squeezed enough that something cracked. Ambulon kept calm, however, face blank though slightly perturbed. "You got your audiols switched off or somethin'?" the Autobot seethed, lips pulling back to show grit teeth. "Or are you just lookin' to get your aft kicked, Decepticon?"
Ambulon wasn't surprised, not really. Though there was a slight flare of irritation in his spark. He refused, however, to betray any emotion. "You should let me go," he said, calmly, "or I will call in security." His yellow optics darkened. "They will restrain you if that's what it takes for me to repair you."
The Autobot sneered crookedly. "Right. Cowards like you need someone to fight their battles for them," he taunted.
Ambulon did not fall for his bait. He remained quiet, firm. Neither leaving nor giving in to any sort of rage. The Autobot twitched, uncomfortable by his unwavering glare and silence. He squeezed the medic's wrist a little harder, enough to dent, and sat forward. "I ain't going to warn you again, 'Con," he hissed. "Back off now, and I won't tear your poorly painted--"
The Autobot's gasp surprised Ambulon more than the sudden crunch of metal. Ambulon's optics flickered; suddenly, a pair of thick pincers were buried in the Autobot's arm, leaving behind two ugly dents. The Autobot was heaving with pain, hand clutching the medic's wrist with sudden desperation.
"You know you're suppose to leave the bad bedside manners to the medic, right?"
Ambulon looked up at Whirl, easily reaching over the berth. His single yellow optic bright and staring menacingly at the shocked Autobot in his grasp.
The initial shock wore off quickly, however. "Whirl," Ambulon said, "what are you doing?"
Whirl looked at the medic. "I'm playin' doctor," he replied. He dug his pincers deeper into the Autobot's arm, earning a shrill cry. Ambulon winced, surprised his colleagues and the other patients hadn't heard the yelp. "Seein' how much pressure I can apply to the patient's arm before he starts to cry." The cycloptic Autobot leaned forward, face hovering over his injured comrade's. "You gonna cry, sissybot? Protoform gonna cry? Gonna cry?" Squeezed, and more mental dented around the patient's shrieking.
"Whirl, stop it!" Ambulon snapped. The wounded Autobot finally released his hand. "You're not helping!"
"I never said I was helping, Ambubu," Whirl corrected, and dragged his claws down the Autobot's busted arm, peeling away blue paint.
Ambulon quickly took Whirl by his arm, tried to pry it off his patient's. "Knock it off," he growled. "Let him go!"
"Nurse! I think our patient is in pain!" Another squeeze and scream. "Four million two hundred trillion CCs of radioflochlorosassafrackerscrapium! Stat!"
"Whirl!" Ambulon snarled. "Do not make me call in Ultra Magnus." His optics flashed. "Or Drift."
Whirl twitched, went still. He stared down unblinking at the medic. "You wouldn't. Not Drift..." he mumbled.
"Drift," Ambulon said, narrowing his optics. "You'll be hauled away to the brig in front of everyone by Drift."
Whirl's claws loosened just slightly from the whimpering Autobot's arm. "You sadistic bastard," he scowled, and then stepped back. The Autobot rolled onto his side, weeping over the throbbing pain in wrist.
Ambulon pointed to the nearest berth. "Go lay down. You're still recuperating," he said, taking notice of Whirl's patched up knees.
Whirl tilted his head, but said nothing.
Ambulon, however, remained as firm as always.
For a moment, both Autobots held a staring contest. Whirl might have won if he suddenly hadn't turned and started marching out of the medbay. Ambulon blinked, surprise replacing his agitation. He watched Whirl storm out, his footfalls heavy and angry.
What... just happened?
"Something up?"
Ambulon turned to First Aid. "I..." He closed his mouth, looked back to the open door.
First Aid tilted his head, then noticed the empty berth beside the one-armed Autobot. "Where's Whirl?" he asked. "Ratchet wasn't ready to discharge him. Did you?" His visor dimmed. "Ratchet's going to flip his pistons--"
Ambulon raised a hand, silencing his colleague. First Aid made a quiet annoyed sound; never did like being undermined. "Have you finished up with your patients?" Ambulon asked. The smaller medic nodded, and Ambulon looked to his patient. "Take care of him. He needs a... second opinion."
First Aid managed to look confused. "Where are you going?"
"Get Whirl back," Ambulon answered, turning, "and keep the CMO's pistons calm."
---
Ambulon had searched the ship for ten minutes before he caught wind of Whirl's location. Sunstreaker pointed off to the cargo bay, adding that Whirl looked "more homicidal than usual". Ambulon was confused, yet slightly daunted. He couldn't explain it, but thanked Sunstreaker and headed off to the cargo bay.
The bay was filled with a few escape pods. Not nearly enough for over two hundred crewmates. Then again, the Lost Light was a special case. Not an entirely good one, however. Ambulon weaved his way around the smaller spacecrafts, listening to his footfalls echo off the walls. It was freezing down here, and his core temperature spiked up a few degrees to keep his system warm.
The bay was larger than Ambulon had expected, and he'd nearly given up by the five minute mark-- It was the sound of a low hum that caught his attention. Ambulon turned and made his way down an aisle past a few smaller escape pods. When he stepped out into free space, he found himself staring out into black, dark space.
Ambulon jolted back, spark skipping a pulse. For a moment he had forgotten. The bay doors were equipped with thick windows, showing a view of the universe outside. The stars were invisible against the light radiating from the cruising ship, but he could faintly make out the curve of a pink moon in the far distance.
Ambulon heard the hum a second time. Looked aside. Whirl stood before one of the windows adjacent of him. While he did not turn nor speak, Ambulon knew Whirl knew he was there. He was an ex-Wrecker, after all. Sharp senses, used to ambushes. Nonetheless, the medic kept his distance, turned to face the 'bot's back about fifteen feet away.
Both Autobots remained in silence a good minute.
"You're wanted back in the medbay," Ambulon said, suddenly. "Ratchet needs you for further observation."
Whirl's shoulders twitched, then rolled. "Mm, nah, not interested," he replied, casually.
Ambulon frowned. "Let's not make this difficult."
The ex-Wrecker looked back over one shoulder, showing a sliver of his yellow optic. "For who? You?" he chortled. "You going to try and drag me back to the medbay?" His eye flashed; playful, threatening. "Good luck."
"I'd like to think you'd be mature and comply with your doctor's orders," Ambulon answered.
Whirl was slightly surprised by the response. There was no fear, though Ambulon had picked up the chill in his tone beneath that layer of smarm. "I'm not the poster mech for maturity, doc," he said a second later, and turned his head around.
"Why are you angry?" Ambulon asked.
Whirl made a sound akin to a snort. "I'll ask you the same."
"I'm not angry. Not yet, at least."
"I'm not angry, either," Whirl assured, raised and clicked his pincers together. "Brightest beam of starshine, that's me!"
Ambulon tilted his head. "... Is this in regards to me yelling at you in the medbay?"
"Huh? Oh." Whirl shrugged. "I forgot about that."
"Right," Ambulon grumbled. "You were hurting my patient, Whirl. I don't care if he's a royal pain in the aft, he was still in my care."
"Well, not officially," Whirl disagreed. "Didn't he refuse your help? I mean, that's why I stepped in."
"You say what you want, but I think you had another reason for breaking that mech's one remaining arm."
Whirl said nothing.
Ambulon was hesitant to continue. Not by fear, but his own confusion. "I'd say it almost appeared as an act of..." He didn't finish, because it... felt unnatural, almost. Why would anyone--
"Ravage got your tongue, doc?" Whirl asked. He turned and faced the medic. "You think I was defending you. You think I was just trying to help you out. Put that punk in his place."
"I didn't say that."
"But you thought it."
"Do I believe it?"
"I think you do."
Ambulon was tempted to smirk, but kept his face blank. "... You caught me, I guess," he said. "You were just doing what you thought any good friend would do."
Whirl chuckled. "Oh, doc, you are way off."
"Aren't you the one who came to my quarters not even a week ago, saying you liked me? That you could relate to me? And that you preferred I'd see you over--" And that's when Ambulon's optics widened. "... You. Were you..." He didn't know what to say. "... You wanted me to treat you? That's why you..."
"No, I just got tired of waiting for Ratchet's fat aft," Whirl insisted. "Besides, I think I was a little tipsy that night. I had about one, two, ten drinks, you see."
"You were not even slightly close to inebriated," Ambulon scowled. He frowned again. "I'm sorry, but I was busy with another patient. Otherwise--"
"Whatever, doc," Whirl interjected. "You keep thinkin' that."
Ambulon did, actually, and came to a second conclusion. "... I embarrassed you, didn't I?" he asked, and that received a slight flare from the Autobot's field. Bingo. "You were embarrassed because you stood up for me, and I... pushed you away."
The cargo bay was quiet for a good ten seconds before Ambulon spoke again.
"Whir--"
"What!?" Whirl shouted, obnoxiously. He turned, claws pressed against the sides of his head. "Sorry! I can't hear you! Bit loud in here!"
Ambulon gave him A Look.
"We got a party goin' on, sorry I can't let you in! No nerds allowed! House rules!"
Ambulon folded his arms. "I can call the police," he said.
Whirl's optic widened. "Clear out!" He dropped his pincers from his head and chortled. "Nice one, Ambubu. But, yeah, I wasn't listening. What'd you say?" He swished a pair of claws. "Haha, no, I'm kidding. Don't repeat yourself. I'll just tune you out again."
"You need to go back to the medbay," Ambulon insisted, back to no-nonsense.
"Nah." Whirl turned for the nearest exit. "Gotta go fight me some... some... I forget what we're fighting again, but I know they're bad and we're good so it's okay!"
"We're not fighting anyone. Nothing is wrong. Really, I will call security if I have to."
Whirl rolled his shoulders. "I can take 'em."
"Whi--"
"Look," Whirl said, and his tone was bitter and salty. The medic went quiet instantly. "I'm not going back to the medbay." His optic darkened. "So back off."
The two stared down one another for a solid minute before Whirl made another snort-like noise. "That's what I thought," he huffed, and once again turned for the exit.
Whirl got two steps forward before sudden pressure was on his back. He whipped around, relying simply on instincts, knocking his attacker aside with a swift strike of his clenched claws. The closest to a fist he could ever make.
Whirl calmed, just slightly, and looked down. Ambulon sat on the ground, a hypo in one hand, the other wiping energon from his torn nose.
"It's not wise to try a sneak attack on a Wrecker, medic," Whirl said, and his tone was both playful and yet threatening. Which was pretty much the standard tone for Whirl.
"Ex-Wrecker," Ambulon reminded, sniffling. That didn't seem to faze the cycloptic Autobot, however. He just remained staring down his would-be attacker. Ambulon climbed to his feet, watched Whirl stiffen. He was ready for another attack - if the doctor dared. "That was stupid of me, I admit," Ambulon said.
"You're just lucky I'm in a relatively good mood, doc," Whirl said, "otherwise you'd find yourself short a head."
"I was close," Ambulon said, weighing the hypo.
Whirl's optic flashed. "You tryin' to drug me, doc?" he asked. "I didn't know you were suicidal. But I'm glad you decided to come to me for assistance." He clicked his claws together. "I'll make it nice and painless for you. Not my specialty, but I like you, Ambubu, so damn, I'm gonna try."
"You really could use a sedative," Ambulon said. Nonetheless, he put the hypo back into a spare compartment. Raised his hands. "But, really. Doing something stupid like that - don't you think I deserve some credit?"
"A plus for stupidity."
"How about you thank me by returning to the medbay?"
Whirl bowed his head. A defensive stance; he was getting annoyed, now. "No," he said, and that was that.
Ambulon studied him a moment.
Whirl glared back. "What... Are you?" His optic widened, and amusement welled back into his spark. "Are you assessing me? Trying to find my weak spot? Well, you got my mech specs, doc, I'm sure you'd--"
The cycloptic Autobot grunted as he was suddenly flipped onto the ground. "Your weak spot is your ego," the doctor said, and once again reached for his hypo.
Whirl's optic widened, full of fear and rage. He swiftly flipped back onto his long legs and charged at the medic. The two wrestled a moment, the hypo falling to the ground; Whirl stomped on it, crushing the device, before turning his attention back on Ambulon. Ambulon kept a tight grip on Whirl's wrists, the claws slicing inches from his face. Whirl bent forward, applying pressure, only giving the doctor enough space to bash his head against his. Both of them scrambled back dizzily, releasing one another.
Ambulon shook his head, equilibrium settling. A shadow fell over him, and when he next looked up, huge claws were suddenly clamped around his throat. Centimeters from closing completely and cleanly decapitating him. Ambulon swallowed, a dent in his crest; he looked up to see Whirl's optic had cracked, but still bright with a flurry of emotions.
"Gimme one good reason why I shouldn't kill you, doctor," Whirl said, and his voice was flat and deadly.
Ambulon actually felt a chill run down his backstrut. "I'm your friend," he answered, "looking out for your best interests." That and, well, not wanting to piss off the CMO.
"How many times do I gotta tell you," Whirl growled, "you are not my friend."
"Maybe. Maybe not. But," Ambulon vented deeply. He kept utterly still. "But you said you understood me. That you get me. Isn't that right?" He swallowed. "Well, I think I kind of get you too."
Whirl's cracked optic shimmered. "Oh? Do tell, Rung."
"You said all this stuff about me that night. You spoke to me as if you truly knew me. So, now I'm going to repay the favor, and tell you what I think of you." He took a deep breath. "I think I'm not the only one who sees you for what you are, Whirl," Ambulon answered. "Not many, I'll admit. But it's obvious - you're a wreck. A terrible mess."
Whirl's head tilted slightly. "It's not nice to insult the guy holding your life in his deadly pincers."
"I don't know all of what you've been through but I know it's been enough to frag you up something fierce," the medic continued. "There's more to you than just your obvious psychosis. I think, above all that anger and bravado, you're actually really scared."
Whirl guffawed.
Ambulon pressed on over the laughter, "You're scared because you're a product of your time. You were molded and shaped to become the perfect sparkless killer. Even before the war. In your prime, you were one of the best. You were probably even feared." He got another chortle out of that. "But the war's over, and you're a dying breed. You hinted at this in our last conversation. You can't change who you are, and I don't think you even know how to."
The silence was heavy over Ambulon's head. Nonetheless, he was not deterred. He had the Autobot's undivided attention, and he was going to ride that wave until the bitter end.
"I think you're even jealous of me," and before Whirl could break out into laughter, "because I was able to change myself. I was able to leave my old life behind and start anew. Something you can't seem to do. Something you know you probably never will. You're gonna be stuck as broken as you are until you finally go out in a blazing mess. And whenever you do try to... adapt, you keep failing, because you don't have the skills. You don't know how to use them."
Ambulon chortled, bitterly. "Pharma was like you, in a way," he said. "He devoted his life to saving others, and yet that hatred for the Decepticons would never leave him. Even after I proved my worth and loyalty, he still hated me, and he even used me to take his fall. I don't know if he intended for me to be arrested and hauled off to prison, or if he intended for me to die and everyone else to escape, but... The truth remains. He could have changed himself - over time, yes - but I don't think he wanted to. And I think the reverse is said for you - you might want to, sometimes, but I don't think you can. Or at least, as I said, don't know how."
Whirl leaned forward again. "You done with the psycho-analysis, Froid? Want to tell me I wasn't loved enough as a protoform and that I never had the right figures in my life growing up?"
"I don't really pity you; not entirely," Ambulon said. "I know you can't change - not much. Maybe, but not much. I know, no matter how hard you try, some demons will never sleep. I think you're always going to be a mess. But." His frown tightened at the edges. "That doesn't mean I'm going to let you go get yourself killed." He swallowed again, the sharp steel cold against his throat. "I guess what I'm trying to say is... I don't think you're as nearly two-dimensional as people believe. I don't think enough people give you credit. I don't think most people see just how tremendously miserable you are underneath your crazy ex-Wrecker facade." Ambulon didn't wait for a response: "And as I am doctor, it's my duty to treat the ill and the injured. So, by letting you go out there and run-a muck, possibly causing trouble when you should be resting, I'd be going against my oath.
"So," Ambulon huffed and stood upright, risking the metal slightly rubbing against his neck cords, "I'm not going to tell you again. I can't fix you. I'm not a psychotherapist. I just call it as I see it, and I've seen plenty like you in the Decepticon ranks." His optics darkened. "What you do with yourself in the end is up to you. It's not my decision to make. But if I'm your doctor, and if I'm going to be anything close to a friend, it's my responsibility to make sure you do something that isn't, at the very least, incredibly stupid."
Ambulon sighed. "You came to me that night because it showed you hurt and feel lonely just like the rest of us poor, pathetic bastards. And I think - I think what you did back in the medbay, by standing up for me, was an attempt to show you're not a total lost cause. So, why should I turn my back on you? You've proven that there's still hope in you somewhere. Still some desire to redeem yourself. I... think I'd like to see you succeed and defy the odds stacked against you. Prove me wrong, maybe, that there's more than just a sliver of hope for you."
Ambulon looked Whirl right in the optic. "So, how 'bout it? Are you done huffing and puffing and throwing a temper tantrum? Because if we're gonna make this thing between us work, you're going to have to meet me half way. And if not..." He jut out his chin. "I'll call security to come strap you down in the medbay if I need to. Try and stop me. Cut off my head. See where that gets you. It won't be very far."
Whirl had - surprisingly - remained quiet the entire time. Ambulon couldn't tell if he was shocked or angry or just amused. As if he were listening to one amazing, intricate joke and waiting for an immensely hilarious punchline. Yet that never came.
His claws remained around Ambulon's throat, and Ambulon said, "Are we done here?"
A second later, Whirl's claws clamped down. Ambulon stiffened. Whirl bowed forward, face to face with the medic. "... Yeah," he said, "but you're still scared of me." With that, he released Ambulon's neck, stepping back. The doctor visibly relaxed, making no effort to hide his obvious fear. He didn't care; Whirl wasn't laughing or mocking him, anyway.
"You're wrong, by the way."
Ambulon took a moment to rub his throat. He looked up at Whirl.
"Completely fraggin' wrong," Whirl continued. "But." He shrugged. "That's okay. I'll let it slide. You're not some headshrink, like you said. But, yes, I'd give you a thumb's up for your valiant effort if I had any thumbs."
"Right," Ambulon snorted. "Whatever."
They said nothing for another minute or two.
Recomposing himself, Ambulon turned for the door. Whirl stayed in place, and the two stared at one another.
"I don't want to recharge next to that annoying glitch," Whirl said, referring to the patient he had scuffled with.
Ambulon knew.
Whirl headed for the door, the medic soon walking side by side with him.
"By now, I think we'll have room. We'll get you a different berth."
"I don't want one near Ratchet."
"Okay."
"Or First Aid."
"Well--"
"I want to be waited on."
"The medbay is not a hotel."
"I want to throw a party."
"You don't need a party."
"Yes, I do. A 'get well soon' party. For me."
"I'm going to put you in the closet."