SEE YOU

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Warning: Physical torture, mental torture

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"Nobody can save me now,"

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Sierra was discharged from the hospital that afternoon, given a pack of bandages to take so she could change out her current ones once they got old. She paused on her way out to stop at Vince's room, peeking in to see he was sitting up, the gash on his head wrapped in plenty of gauze. His green eyes met her own, a silent invitation for her to step in. His permanent scowl softened just a touch as he looked her up and down.

"Glad to see you're making a recovery," he said stiffly, his voice coarse as if he was recovering from a cold.

"Miko told me what happened," she scooted a stool over to his bed, gingerly sitting on it. "How do you feel?"

His sarcasm was practically palpable. "Like I slipped and fell inside of a 'bot and bashed my head open. The docs are monitoring my condition for 48 hours to make sure I don't have any adverse side-effects from the energon getting in my wound."

She nodded, chewing the inside of her lip absentmindedly. The young woman was not sure what else to say, or do. Hope you get better sounded so lame, and she was certain Vince would make fun of her for it.

It was no secret he and Jack were competing for her attention; any popular girl with a brain would have seen it. And even though she was far more interested in Jack than the pushy bully, Vince was attractive. She did not want him to think she was stupid by saying something pathetic like Oh wow. Hope you don't get poisoned!

"Well . . . I'm glad to see you're doing okay now," she said, still sounding totally lame.

Vince huffed. "For now. Pulled the tube that was in my throat out, and punched a nurse, so I'm not exactly on the ER's favorite list."

Sierra cringed. "I'm, uh, sorry to hear that."

"Is Screamer going to let you fly again?" He asked. The question was a bit out of the blue and caught her off guard. She paused, unsure if he actually would.

The Seeker and pilot were undeniably close, having some kind of mutual respect for one another. He might let her go back out onto the field, however she would not be surprised if it was reluctant. It had been a long road to recovery, and she was just getting out of the hospital.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully. "Probably not until I'm healed up more. Those pilot suits would chafe the scrap out of my skin."

A short, genuine laugh escaped the older man.

"I believe it," he said. "Those don't look comfortable."

There was another pause, Vince's fingers absentmindedly playing with the sheet.

"I should let you rest," Sierra could feel the awkward silence slowly building, deciding it was best to leave before it became unbearable. "And maybe even report to Starscream. He'd probably like to know I'm out of the hospital."

"Yeah," he watched her stand up to leave. "Hey, Sierra?"

She paused, her heart pounding in her chest a little. The way he said it, the softened edge of his voice . . . "Yes?"

Vince blinked slowly, as if trying to build confidence. "If you're into Darby, just tell him. He's a total idiot and won't get the hint otherwise."

Her next words died in her throat, because it was not what she was expecting. The slight smile from her face faded, because she realized she might never get to tell Jack.

"Vince . . ." she did not know if she should be telling him this, "Jack isn't here. He's gone. He was captured by the Decepticons during a raid. Mirage too."

The man's own slight smirk faded, and a curse left his mouth. "Got into trouble again, did he?" He frowned. "Any word since then?"

"No," Sierra shook her head, feeling her eyes burn with unshed tears. She felt like an idiot, and Vince was right. For the past three years she had tried to get closer to Jack even though they worked in drastically different fields. Still, she should have said something. She could have said something, but it never seemed like a good time. Maybe she was waiting for him to make the first move. Nevertheless, it might be too late now.

Just like before.

"Well, that's neither good nor bad news," Vince sat up a little straighter. She was unsure if he was trying to make her feel better with that statement. "Hopefully we get something. But until then . . . heal up, Sierra. We need you on the field more than anybody."

She blushed at the compliment. "Thanks, Vince. You too."

Quietly she exited the room, leaving Vince in his lonesome.

The young man laid back down, staring up at the ceiling.

He felt super dumb for telling Sierra to pursue Darby, but he was feeling generous. Besides, it was obvious she was interested in him - why else would she constantly make up reasons for them to be in the same place at the same time? Especially when she'd ask for motorcycle rides; that was almost too obvious.

As cruel as it was he realized that, with Jack gone, he had no competition. However, as much as he despised Darby and the robots he stood for, he did feel sorry for him. He was annoyed by his nighttime outbursts because he knew what PTSD looked like, and he hated the reminder that Jack brought him when he screamed. He knew it was hard to keep the pain away, and as much as he wanted to yell at Darby just to keep it all in, to bottle it up and move on, that was not how it worked.

He could only imagine what was happening now. He wondered if Darby was legitimately insane, or maybe he was more sane than ever. What if Jack was spilling his guts, or Mirage for that matter, and it was only a matter of time before the Decepticons came knocking on Area 51's door? They had protection in place, so that was not the problem; it was just that this protection kept the enemy out . . . and trapped everyone else in.

Maybe they could do a prisoner exchange: Cyclonus for Jack. Or Mirage. But who would they choose? Which one would Megatron give up?

His gut twisted, because he knew which one the tyrant would prefer to exchange.

While Vince was no stranger to the horrors of war, to imagine a situation like Darby's was almost impossible. He realized that the longer Jack stayed there, the more likely he'd die.

Vince thought of Reese, his best friend, and his sacrifice for his country. He thought of all of his veteran friends, and family, and how he had been too much of a coward to enlist once he hit 18. He tried to convince himself that the military lifestyle was not for him, especially while watching his dad lose his mind over the most mundane of civilian things, but it was a lie. Vince did not enlist because he was a coward. It was because he didn't want to end up like his friends. He was scared of going insane.

But Darby was not military the first time. He was civilian, just like Vince. And yet he continued to fight, to stick a giant middle finger to the mech who took everything. He was the last person who deserved what he was going through now.

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He was so tired.

Jack barely managed to get any sleep that was not the result of pure exhaustion, his shoulders seemingly numb from their permanent upraised position. He almost wished the claws which caressed his maimed cheek were tearing into him, ripping him apart and reminding him of the monster which lurked beneath the surface.

"Drink."

His cracked eyes glimpsed the blue energon glowing in front of him, and his mouth opened obediently.

The numbness which washed over his tongue was much lesser this time, a testament to his already-adapting body. This time the energon did have an odd twang to it, but he found he barely cared. Whatever just made the tyrant come and go.

As the alien substance settled in his stomach he resisted the urge to force himself to throw up; it would only bring unnecessary pain, and Megatron would likely make him lick it off the floor. He had gone through enough humiliation for the next lifetime.

"Good," the rewarding touch sent awful chills down his spine. He shied away from the digits; had they been attached to their original owner, he might have been flattered by the reassuring, confident graze. His small resistance was rewarded with a strong grip on his chin, forcing him to look up at deep red optics.

"You understand this suffering may end," Megatron reminded him, "with just a simple word."

Jack hissed, his voice cracking from hours of silence. "You'll have to make me."

"It will be much sweeter when you say it on your own volition," Megatron let him go as he chuckled, the deep sound echoing in the large chamber. "The faster you admit defeat, the faster I can reunite you with your medic."

"I am defeated," Jack snarled, his blue eyes glittering. "But I will never surrender."

Megatron laughed at that.

"Always something new to say," he was both mocking and impressed. "If I was capable of swaying Ratchet to my side, what makes you believe that you, a human, will be any different?"

"You manipulated Ratchet with Dark Energon," Jack narrowed his eyes. "You're going to have to work harder to get my mind as twisted as yours!"

Megatron smirked, finding something amusing in what Jack said. A single digit tilted his chin up, its sharp edges pressing painfully into his skin.

"I will, with time," he promised.

Jack was finished. He was exhausted, angry, and just done.

The human had immense patience, but something made him snap. Maybe it was because he was scared Megatron was right. Maybe he was just so numb that he wanted to feel something again. Whatever it was, it caused energy to surge through his veins, and he lunged forward.

Megatron was not expecting the spat as it landed straight on his face, nor the kick which landed on his chest and sent him back. Jack had gotten much stronger in the past three years, strong enough to cause Megatron to fall flat on his back.

The reaction was nearly instantaneous, though there was a moment of pause as Megatron processed just what happened.

He bolted up with a snarl, his servo swinging forward and slamming into Jack's cheek, his neck practically snapping from the force. The second blow came to his chest, and he screamed as fire raced across his ribs. The agonized noise did not last long, as he had to catch his breath, however he barely had time as claws gripped his hair and yanked his head back.

"Decided to get a little feisty now, hm?" Megatron snarled, sharp denta bared. They were so close Jack could feel his false breaths against his cracked lips. "Perhaps I should remind you that my kindness only extends so far, and for so long."

Jack just let his head drop as the grip on his hair let go, though he still could not escape the sharp blow which left his head reeling and cheek stinging. He gasped, tears pricking his eyes as his muscles shuddered.

"You're better off killing me," he said, barely able to force the words from his throat.

"Then you are of no use to me," Megatron pointed out, Jack feel claws slice thin, bleeding lines across his skin. "Would you be so selfish as to abandon your medic?"

Ratchet.

Jack shivered. "If he was in his right mind he would leave with me."

"He is in his right mind," Megatron's unforgiving claws dug deeper, Jack hissing as more blood spilled from his arm, "the Autobots think that just because a mech is not indoctrinated into your beliefs, they must be insane. But Ratchet is far from that. He has seen the truth, that which the Autobots attempted to suppress, and has become what they fear: more than his predestined function."

"Without the Dark Energon, I think he would disagree," the human growled.

"The Dark Energon merely enhances his current abilities and inner thoughts," Megatron justified. "It does not serve to warp his mindset."

Finally his claws came away, their tips coated in blood. Jack swore he felt light-headed, wondering if he was finally feeling the effects of blood loss. He had already shed plenty of it while under Megatron's care - if it could even be called that - so perhaps now he was getting to the point where the effects were presenting themselves.

"You're a monster," Jack snarled, the familiar words feeling anything but threatening as they left his tongue. Megatron knew that. He knew he was abhorrent, unforgivable. There was nothing new to be said.

"And you are my prey."

Jack screamed as there was another blow to his face, then the tyrant circled back around to his back. This time, however, he sliced the back of his arms to ribbons, soaking his skin in warm, thick blood. The wounds burned and stung horrendously, small strips of fire which could not be satiated.

The young man was left panting once the Decepticon had his fill, tears running down his cheeks in unforgiving streams, but at this point he did not care. He was tired, and just grateful that he could feel this pain.

Cold gently seeped into his fingertips, much more inviting than one would have expected. He felt something like chilled fingers caress his cheek, words warping into unintelligible garble as his ears rung. The feeling was replaced with an uncomfortable dizziness, and Jack realized he was going to pass out.

He closed his eyes, choking on a breath until the ringing faded, and he remembered no more.