Categories > Cartoons > Transformers > Patient H-18

Facing Memories

by Beregond5 0 reviews

What the title says.

Category: Transformers - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst,Drama - Warnings: [!] - Published: 2007-10-08 - Updated: 2007-10-08 - 1488 words - Complete

Another day went by, and Streetwise didn't return. To Prowl, that meant the Protectobot still hadn't been able to find the right cog yet - which also meant the tactician would have to stay immobile at least one more day. Ratchet and First Aid tried to make his condition as bearable as possible, but it was getting harder. The uncomfortable feeling of helplessness and vulnerability Prowl tried to suppress through logic and bravery was slowly overwhelming the usually collected and passive Autobot.

And the worst part for Prowl was that H shut the tactician out after his breakdown. He didn't so much as look at Prowl anymore, let alone address him in his friendly, albeit quiet manner.

Prowl never thought it was possible but... he felt lonesome.

He sighed and looked again at the direction of H. The young mech was sitting on his accustomed spot in the corner. His back was to the wall and his gaze remained locked on the floor.

It seemed that H had no intentions of acknowledging Prowl's presence today either.

Even so, Prowl was certain that H wasn't acting this way because he was angry at the tactician. His body posture didn't reveal such a thing anyway. No. The young one was pained, like he always had been ever since Prowl met him. He just didn't bother to hide it behind a smile in the hopes that all the bad things would just vanish.

I wish you knew how sorry I am, Prowl thought sadly. My words just won't suffice this time.

It was then that a booming sound reached Prowl's audio receptors, and his berth shook violently. Being accustomed to such kind of sudden occurrences, Prowl managed to assess the situation quickly and efficiently. The sound was quite a distance away from the medical centre; nevertheless, Prowl was still sure that it was an explosion - one that had the name "Decepticons" written all over it.

He caught a flash of light from the corner of his optic, making him look out the window. However, it was another loud explosion that confirmed the fact that a raid was actually taking place somewhere beyond the walls of the medical centre.

So typical of them. He turned around so he wouldn't have to watch such a disturbing sight, since there was nothing he could do to stop the Decepticons.

But then he saw H.

The young mech still kept his gaze on the floor, giving the impression that he wasn't paying attention to what was happening around him. Yet Prowl could clearly see the white hands trembling. The tactician didn't know how long he remained like this, watching the young one trying piteously to remain calm and yet flinching at every loud sound.

Finally, Prowl knew exactly what he should do.


H didn't respond at once, and Prowl thought that he wasn't heard. However, several moments later, the young mech dared a peek at the injured one's direction.

Prowl extended his hand. "Come here," he said softly.

H looked at him, uncertain, and then out the window. He shook his head.

Prowl understood.

"I'm just five steps away from you. All you have to do is keep your optics on me and count." He smiled reassuringly. "I know you can do that."

H thought about it. Deciding that Prowl had a point, he nodded and stood up. He shuffled one leg forward and made the first step, but another, closer explosion reverberated through the room. H almost turned his head at its direction.

"No, don't turn," Prowl reminded the young mech, keeping his tone calm. "Just look at me and move on."

H nodded at once, remembering himself. Bracing himself as though he was ready to take a deep plunge into unknown waters, he swiftly took the next four steps and brought himself close to the tactician.

Prowl winced inwardly when he saw H's wide-open optics, for he realised just how terrified the young mech was. Since this wouldn't do, he took one of H's hands and curled his own fingers around it.

"That was it," he said soothingly. "You did well."

H looked as though he didn't register what Prowl just told him. But then the frightened expression started smoothing away and, moments later, H's initial panic eventually died down. H squeezed Prowl's hand a bit, wishing to express his thanks.

Prowl's smile broadened. "You're welcome." He patted the small empty space at the side of the berth. "Sit down."

H tried to object somehow, certainly thinking that he would be inconveniencing the injured mech if he tried to occupy part of the berth as well. But Prowl didn't let the young one continue.

"It's okay," he said simply.

H decided to comply. He sat down without letting go of Prowl's hand, while he kept his optics stubbornly away from the window. He still flinched at every explosion, but at least he wasn't shaking. That was something Prowl welcomed.

Fifteen minutes later, everything was quiet once more. Even so, neither of the mechs let go of the other.

That is, until shame caught up with H and he bowed his head. He tried to let go of Prowl's hand, but the tactician's grip didn't loosen.

"You are too hard on yourself."

H sighed. It was clear he wasn't sharing the same opinion. However, Prowl wanted to make the young one understand.

"Trust me. I know."

H stared at Prowl, unsure what to make of that statement. Meanwhile, Prowl just kept talking; for a long-suppressed need finally surfaced and it wouldn't be smothered.

"Have you ever heard of the city of Praxus?"

H shook his head.

"I suppose you haven't," the tactician said. "It's just that you look as though you could have been from there."

That certainly piqued H's curiosity, something that made Prowl smile ruefully.

"It was the city where I was created," he explained in a soft tone. "It was a beautiful city, bustling with life; most of my friends were there too. For a long time, it seemed that nothing could taint those tall, burnished buildings which offered me and the other inhabitants a comfortable haven.

"But then I heard the roars from the sky. It was true that rumours about a group of Cybertronians who could fly had reached my audio receptors, but I didn't really believe it. I thought it was merely a tale, like the ones old mechs sometimes say when they're overcharged with high-grade.

"I was wrong."

A small gasping sound drew Prowl from his grievous reminiscence and made him look back at H.

"Yes," he said. "Five minutes after the roars filled the air, the first buildings started to fall. Two hours later, everything was gone. And during that whole time there was nothing but utter disarray. Screaming, running, crying, fear for one's life - all jumbled into one big chaos from which there was no escape." Prowl's vocaliser almost failed him, yet Prowl persisted. "And the only reason some of us survived was because we had luck on their side.

"The irony was... I didn't consider myself lucky. In some ways, I still don't."

Now both H's hands were holding Prowl's, keeping it close to the black chest-plate. The tactician saw the tears welling up at the young one's optics and then trickle down H's visage, so he used his free hand to wipe the liquid away with a gentle stroke.

"That's what happened to you too, isn't it?" he asked; his voice was barely a whisper.

H nodded. He quickly used the back of his hand to wipe some more tears that started accumulating in his optics before gripping Prowl's hand again; but there was nothing he could do about the confusion and desperation reflected in them.

"I know," Prowl murmured. "Even now, there are times that I ask myself the same question: why I should survive when others didn't. The only logical answer I can come up with is that I survived so I could find a way to atone for those I didn't save; to reach a position where I could do that. Because I like to think that then I live for them as well." His optics locked on H's. "Don't blame yourself for living. It's not fair to you."

That was all H could take. As Prowl's last words came out of his lip components, he bowed his head and his shoulders shuddered involuntarily. As the sound of the first sob echoed in the room, Prowl tugged H gently and brought him down to a comforting embrace, whispering close to the young one's audio receptors that it was all right. Another sob followed and, soon enough, the silver and black mech was openly crying, whereas Prowl still held the young one as soothingly as possible.

The tactician never realised that there was something oddly wet in the corner of one of his own optics as well.

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