re_alignment_logs | 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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?

and on the green they tell their tales

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