re_alignment_logs | and on the green they tell their tales

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and on the green they tell their tales

WHO: First Aid, Fortress Maximus
WHERE: Megatronus' quadrant
WHEN Soon after Overlord makes his appearance on the Link
WHAT: Fort Max has a bit of a breakdown, finding out that his tormentor of three years is not as 'gone' as others once claimed.
WARNINGS: Strong allusions/references/memories of various types of torture/trauma.

"I'm timing you."

The memory of his voice had been bad enough. Of his face, and his form. Nightmares plagued him every night, and he'd given up hope of ever being able to rest without them - unless he could manage to wear himself down past exhaustion, where his processor couldn't manage defragment dreams.

But hearing the voice again - new, and fresh - and seeing his face...

One fit, apparently, wasn't nearly enough.

Fortress Maximus had collapsed against the rock, a hand over his mouth to stifle a scream. No sound, no noise, don't show yourself-why was he here, he was gone, they said he had been gone he was here, he was going to kill them all, make them wish they were dead or maybe he'd just snapped, finally broken, gone crazy and now he was seeing things, oh gods. Oh gods.

He wanted to shriek in terror. Run. Flee, like the utter coward he was. But Fort Max knew he couldn't stand against him, he'd tried, they had to believe he'd tried, but everything had been stripped away from him in that hellhole, power, pride, men, everything...

Somehow he was able to stumble to his feet, using the wall as support - but even then, he could barely walk. Fueled by the terrifying urge to move, to hide, find some sort of shelter before all hell broke loose again- Max blundered through the corridor as though blind.

He had to get out of here.

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Sorry, First Aid, did you think Fort Max was paying attention? Because only than vaguely hearing 'Starscream' and then dismissing it as a not-quite-as-big-threat...

It's only when he has that moment of silence that Max starts to pull himself back, and even then- the question takes him off guard. He looks...bewildered.

"Why would...?"

That. Wasn't really what he was expecting.

That completely bewildered look from Fort Max just makes First Aid instantly regret asking. He ducks his head, avoiding the ex-warden's optics, shaking it in dismissal.

"Nothing. Please... er."

He tugs on his thumb, stepping through the doorway into his quarters.

"Come in."

Why would he hate...?

Max has a lot of hate in him. Most of it is directed at the 'Cons, with one in particular holding a special amount that continually teeters between terror and a hatred so strong it defies wording. Some of it, a few Autobots hold. The rest, well...

It has to go somewhere. And he's had a lot of time to consider himself.

It's not at the forefront right now, though. Right now is him stepping in to the room, and then turning, the sole entrance and exit both a blessing and a curse for his mood. He can keep an eye on it, he can be warned if he's coming-

But there's also no way of escaping.

"...you...sure this is safe."

He feels like an idiot asking. But he can't help it.

"It should be."

First Aid realizes that's probably not very encouraging, so he'll explain. It's pretty obvious he's not used to guests, though. He wasn't kidding when he said it wasn't much. The room itself is like any other quarters in Megatronus's haven, but it's a bit messy with datapads and assorted small bits of equipment that he'd been fiddling with. They didn't look like much, but experimental medical instruments never did until the finished product.

"I haven't been bothered."

He moves a handful of datapads off the berth, making room for Fort Max to sit down.

"I'll protect you, don't worry. Nobody is going to hurt you." First Aid honestly doesn't even really realize how ridiculous that sounds, since by his tone and everything about his body language he really means it. He was a nurse and a medic-- he dedicated his job to health and comfort.

Ridiculous is an understatement. But it's an offer of safety.

He takes it.

Fortress Maximus takes that seat on the berth, not even bothering to respond. All he does is hunch forwards, putting his face in a hand, and cycles his vents in a single, heavy burst.

Frag.

He just...

They still need to get out of here. He can't stay here. But he knows enough to know that he's not thinking straight, at least, and he needs to slow this panic down to where he can and maybe...figure out something.

A plan. An escape.

Anything.

Since Fortress Maximus wasn't really supplying much to the conversation, First Aid just keeps talking. He's fairly used to it at this point. There were times when he was caring for the comatose Autobot and would just chat with him, telling him about his day and so on. This wasn't all that different.

"I haven't seen you since I woke you up," he comments as he flits about the room, moving things around to make everything a little more homey.

"I'm really glad to see you're fine. Everyone had pretty much given up on you, but I just knew that you'd wake up. They seem to think I maybe er-- hurt myself when I did that, though. I have some lapse of... memory."

He vents, shaking his head.

"But I feel fine! Aside from..." Oh. Right. He really hasn't told anyone about that. He settles down, looking at Fort Max. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Oddly enough, it's helping.

When Fortress Maximus was comatose and under repairs, he was mostly oblivious to the outside world. There was nothing but black, for him - black and lingering agony, churning emotions and memories that were trying to settle but could only find so much rest.

But as time went on, there was something else. Something that couldn't quite pierce all of that, but something there nonetheless, a constant reminder that there was still a world. And that it wasn't all black and pain. There were other things, too, maybe things that he wasn't able to understand again but still.

The not-even-a-murmur was only there for so long at a time, but it would come back.

The ex-warden slowly eases as First Aid continues, more than willing to let the medic take charge of the situation and drone on and on. Really, he's only paying so much attention, but it's calming nonetheless. Enough so that he can move his hand enough to look over his fingers at the mech, offering a small noise of affirmation.

Least he could so.

Good enough. First Aid is torn, though. He hadn't really spoken about this and it was something he still wasn't quite comfortable with himself. The gift, special talent of cybertronians were their ability to transform. Take that away and they were... less.

He settles the last of the datapads away, then moves over to join the ex-warden on the berth. He hops up, worming into the small bit of space next to him, and folds his arms.

"A couple months ago, my t-cog started having issues. It'd make this nasty grinding sound sometimes when I'd transform for recharge at night. Malfunction. It stopped working entirely a little bit ago. I told you when... it first happened, since you were the only one I could."

Comatose 'bots couldn't judge and all.

"They say people are a lot more relaxed these days about handicapped 'bots and monoformers these days, but you know there's still a lot of shapeism out there. Nobody really cares what you turn into, just as long as you can."

He unfolds his arms, pressing his hand to his knees as he look up to Fort Max.

"So yeah. I can't transform."

Maximus shifts over, a bit, offering more room for First Aid. As he continues to talk, that hand lowers a bit more...to finally, with a heavy exvent, to slide down his face entirely.

All right. So First Aid...can't transform.

"You're a medic...can't you...fix that?"

He's not the most brilliant of mechs when it comes to that kind of thing, but all he can think of is how damaged he was...

...and how First Aid was able to make him, essentially, as though he'd just come off the line.

He probably should have expected that kind of response, but still it takes him a bit by surprise. Maybe he had just expected Fortress Maximus to just understand, but then again, he was conscious and that meant he was just another mech now.

"There's a lot a doctor can fix. I've fixed mechs who came in with their cogs almost completely shattered."

He squirms a bit, feeling self conscious now. Nobody particularly liked talking about their weaknesses.

"But, um. This is different. It's an illness, not an injury. All the right components of my cog are there, they just don't work."

It's not something that he's familiar with. But Fortress Maximus...hell, of First Aid, of all mechs, he can't hold it against him. He's not sure if he could hold anything against him, all told.

And considering he himself hasn't been in a position to transform until lately...

Well, to be fair, he did it a couple times once he'd woken up. Before getting on the ship. But...for a long while, there.

Max just nods, not knowing if he should offer some sort of sympathy, or...

"...sorry."

Well, that's not awkward at all.

Sure, not awkward at all. First Aid's not sure what he was expecting. There's a tense, awkward moment as he looks up at the huge mech, waiting for him to continue, before he finally realizes that's it.

Ah. Okay. He vents and looks away.

"Thanks."

He glances back up once, then leans in to bump his shoulder against Fort Max's arm. Who was he kidding? Yeah, he'd probably never transform again, but after Garrus-9, the other mech had spent a year in a coma.

"Hey. Can I do anything for you?"

"I don't..."

He appreciates the company. But he's not sure he wants it. He doesn't want to talk, he doesn't want to spill his own secrets, he doesn't...

...we'll.

After a few moments of silence, Max shrugs uselessly.

"...you can. Keep talking."

If he wants.

"Oh, okay."

First Aid isn't sure where exactly to go from there. Aside from things he'll never speak -- the duty given to him by Springer -- that his his biggest secret. He reaches for Fort Max's hand, fingers brushing the side of it.

"Getting around has been a bit hard. I never had to go very far at Delphi, taking care of you and the others there. Ratchet's medbay and Pharma's clinic are almost a day's walk away. I'm sure you... don't really care."

He shrugs.

"I missed talking to you like this."

He doesn't...not...care. If it's any consolation. He tries to convey this through raising his other hand in a kind of shrugging gesture, but when the words don't come...he grimaces a bit at his own inability.

"...it's tough," he finally decides on saying. There. That sounds...about right. Hell, even before...everything...he was used to operating in a small area, unless dispatched to a combat site. But even then...that's hardly comparable to this.

And...

"..."

This is going to sound so slagging stupid.

"Can...talk anytime."

And then he shifts, looking away. Yeah, he probably just sounded like an idiot, right there.

It's fine, really. First Aid really isn't used to speaking much to anyone who would answer back anyway. It's different speaking to Faders or the dead. Just as it was difficult for Fort Max to think of things to say, First Aid was having difficulty adjusting to waiting for a reply.

He curls his fingers around one of Max's own, smiling up at him with his optics.

"Thanks. It's nice having someone who will listen."

He shakes his head.

"You know, after the whole demotion thing. Everyone thinks I'm crazy. But I'm not."

...First Aid? Crazy? The comment, more than the gesture, brings his optics back to the nurse, expression clearly confused. To say nothing of 'demotion' itself - maybe there was a reason, but it can't have been because of capability, because if First Aid was able to bring him back then that's saying something (especially regarding timing), but...

"...why would they say that?"

No, really. Why?

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and on the green they tell their tales

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