PRESERVE YOU

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Warning: Intense medical scenario. Depictions of war.

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"That all this time I've been afraid,"

⬵⤁

"We need a doctor in here, now!" Miko screamed as soon as Bulkhead cleared the Groundbridge threshold, the mech bending down and gently sliding Miko out of his servo. She kept a tight hold on Jack, the young woman carrying him almost effortlessly - a combination of adrenaline and her history of mechanical work with Wheeljack giving her the ability to haul Jack's weakened frame with ease.

"Jack?" Rafael whimpered softly, looking over the railing as soldier scrambled to grab a physician and nursing team from the ER.

The young man looked horrible, his clothing barely concealing his thinning muscles and the scratches which peppered his entire body. A couple of soldiers assisted Miko in carrying the injured Jack towards the hospital, and soon a gurney was thrust in their direction, nurses already surrounding the small group as they placed Jack on the bed.

"Find a pulse, find a pulse!" One of the nurses shouted at another, pushing Jack towards the hospital while a doctor and another nurse began undressing him and throwing a gown over his body. Miko stared as they wheeled her friend, wanting to keep up but feeling grief squeeze at her chest. She was so worried, and she had no idea where she had to be - should she return to the main hub and give a report, or follow her friend?

"What-" June dropped her clipboard as the new patient was wheeled back, recognizing her son no matter his condition. Her hands covered her mouth in shock, another staff member grabbing her before she could step forward.

"June, you have to give them room to work," she said, keeping herself between the mom and her son. "He's in the best of hands. I promise."

"What happened?" June demanded, whipping her head around to look for someone who had answers. "What happened?!"

"I'm not finding anything," one of the nurses shouted as they placed their fingers deeper against Jack's neck, desperately searching for something. "I have no carotid pulse!"

"No radial either," another nurse  reported.

"Begin chest compressions," the physician ordered, a nurse brushing past him as three got into a line, one finding a stool and kicking it next to the bed, standing on top of it and placing his hands over Jack's chest. He shoved, the third nurse holding Jack's wrist.

"Pulse is there, keep going," she confirmed, glancing over as yet another worked on his IV.

"Get that epi ready," the physician thrust his head out of the door. "Ultrasound, in here now! I need the crash cart and get the AED warmed up!"

Making his way to Jack's head, the physician cracked his eyes open, shining a light inside of them. "Pupils are 3mm with minimal reaction to light. Finish this cycle of CPR and check for pulse."

The nurses did as instructed, thirty chest compressions performed before one of them yelled "Stop and check!", the room stilling briefly as fingers were pressed to carotid and radial arteries, waiting. There was nothing, not even a minute flutter of the heart.

"Go," the physician instructed, pointing to the nurse at his new IV line. "Is that epi ready? Give him one dose."

She did as instructed, sliding the needle into his access line and pushing the plunger, sending a jolt of energy straight into his veins. There was a moment of hesitation and tentative hope, the physician waiting for any sign of life. Yet Jack remained still, the boy's chest hitching for a brief moment, then even his breath sounds became quiet.

"Bag, now!" The doctor snapped, stepping to the side as the respiratory therapist took his place, slipping a mask over the boy's face and popping the bag valve on it, checking oxygen flow before she began to squeeze the bag every five seconds. "Resume CPR, and prep another dose of epinephrine! You, ultrasound tech, I need trauma in here now!" He paused, turning back to their patient, and speaking to a nurse. "Also get a bicarb ready for when this round is over."

The grey-scrubbed technician burst from the room, the nurse uncapping the epinephrine needle and preparing the second shot, waiting for the three to five minute mark. Meanwhile, the nurses resumed their CPR, the physician bringing over the ultrasound machine and turning it on. Simultaneously he re-checked the boys pupils, still finding them reactive, but sluggish in their extraocular movements and barely responding.

He allowed for another round of CPR and epinephrine before having them cease, coating the boy's chest in the gel before placing the wand against his skin. Staring at the screen he moved it around, seeing the dark hole where the boy's heart rested. There was a flutter of muscle, his valves weakly pushing blood through while his heart twitched, the drugs they pumped into his veins coaxing for them to move.

"Come on, Jack," he hissed, the nurses resuming CPR as yet another dose of epinephrine was prepared. He looked up as trauma surgery came in another five minutes later, the time flying by with every chest compression.

"What does he look like?" The trauma surgeon asked, slipping past the team and cracking open Jack's eyes. He shined a light in them, flinching as the pupils, sluggish at first, suddenly contracted to small points. "Pause CPR."

Fingers went to carotids, radials, and even dorsalis pedis veins as they searched for the pulse, the ER physician's hands shaking with his own adrenaline. He looked at the nurse across from him, who nodded as she felt the soft pulse beneath his skin.

"Get him on a ventilator," the trauma surgeon instructed, the nurses all starting to bustle around him, scissors cutting Jack's clothes and every inch of skin examined to determine where the trauma was located.

"My god," the doctor swore again, gloved hands touching the scars of his shoulders, barely able to imagine what Jack's back looked like. He palpated his neck, glancing at Jack's blood pressure and noting how high it was, a side-effect of the epinephrine in his system. He hoped the boy did not go into cardiac arrest again.

"We need to get him scanned immediately," his companion noted, not liking the state of their patient. "Full body CT. I want nothing left unscanned."

"I'll get CT ready," a nurse took initiative, exiting from the room to inform the techs on what was coming their way, a respiratory therapist finished with hooking Jack up to oxygen. He was stable, for now, but the odds of him coding again were immense.

The ER physician stepped out of the room, taking several deep breaths. His eyes landed on the nurse that was waiting for him not three feet away, her hands clasped to her chest. It was like she was praying - and maybe that is what brought Jack back.

"Is he okay?" June asked, searching his face. "Is he at least alright?"

His expression was sad. "Jack had gone into cardiac arrest, and because he was brought to us in that state, it is difficult to tell how long it had been. We managed to get him back, but it was hard, June."

"But he's alive," her voice cracked, like she was reluctant to say it.

"He is, yes," he tried to be assuring, but honest. "We are taking him to CT as soon as  he is ready."

"Thank you . . ." finally her voice broke entirely as she sobbed, burying her face in her hands as she did so. Grief closed around her heart like cold claws, the reality of the situation settling into her bones. Jack likely suffered some form of brain damage, depending on how long his heart had stopped beating. The brain was a greedy thing, and it did not take long for its tissues to begin dying once it was deprived.

The doctor moved to comfort her, but she collapsed to her knees, keening softly in the hospital hall. Behind her a group of people were approaching, the doctor recognizing Agent Fowler, a young woman and teenage boy flanking him. They all paused when they saw June, the Agent looking towards the physician and asking the silent question.

The doctor was unsure how to respond, but by then the girl had reached her own conclusion, wailing uncontrollably as she screamed no over and over. Once she cried the boy did as well, his cries not nearly as loud however they were plentiful, tears streaming down his face as he ripped away from the small group and sprinted back the way he had come.

Agent Fowler leaned against the counter heavily, his expression vacant. The doctor approached him, quietly telling him what he had told June, aware the Agent and Jack were close. He nodded numbly, however it was apparent his mind was reeling.

The ED physician was not optimistic, though he had seen miracles in the past. The cries of the mourners were not unusual to him, and though there was a weight on his chest his heart did not ache. It couldn't.

He had seen far too much of it before.

⬵⤁

Optimus charged forward, Megatron running to meet him with a sneer on his face. Starscream shared a data stream parallel to his own, providing a plethora of ideas which Optimus could select from and use to his advantage. Instead of being distracting, the mech found it extraordinarily useful, the Seeker's own natural coding revealing some rather interesting facts about his processor.

Starscream was a brilliant tactician because he had perfected the art of running multiple simulations in his helm and selecting the one with the best outcomes - well, he was supposed to, but apparently the Seeker had a bad habit of just doing what he thought would work, not what his own personal calculations showed him. He wanted to take Megatron head-on despite statistics demonstrating that was a horrible idea; the Seeker's biggest vice was his pride and his emotions, something Optimus had no issue with dismissing easily.

Megatron curled his servo into a fist, aiming straight for Optimus' helm. The Prime dodged, gripping the wrist in both servos and heaving, finding surprising strength within Starscream's frame. Megatron snarled as he was thrown forward, Wheeljack and Jazz meeting him with two fists, slamming straight into his helm.

The tyrant fell to the ground with a whoosh of air escaping his systems, instincts urging him to roll and avoid a katana to the neck cables, sweeping his arm and taking out Jazz's legs. He turned as Wheeljack yelled, throwing his other arm up and catching the sword between his cannon and arm. The Wrecker ducked as the charged weapon nearly took his helm off, leaping backwards as the massive sword deployed with a shhrk.

Bumblebee kept a cannon pointed towards the group, however he did not partake in the battle. Instead, he ran to Ratchet, skidding to a stop next to the mech.

Sadness enveloped his spark as he stared down at the grey optics, the dull orange and white frame surrounded by a devastating puddle of purple, dark energon. Returning his cannon to its place he knelt down, gently taking Ratchet under his arms and lifting him up. There was a terrible scraping noise as he took the broken medic off of the earth, energon splattering on the scout as he did so. Ratchet was heavy, yet Bumblebee was determined. He would make it to the Groundbridge. He would bring Ratchet home.

"Bug!" Megatron snarled as he shoved Wheeljack to the side, charging towards Bumblebee as he dragged Ratchet to the bridge. The scout froze, not sure what to do, the dictator so focused on him he did not see the shot until it hit him.

Hit, was a generous word, as the missile truly slammed into him with concussive force. The explosion burned across his armor, searing wires in his Prime arm and scattering scorch marks on his chest. Megatron whirled, Optimus lowering his servo from its raised position. Roaring in rage, the Decepticon abandoned his earlier target and re-focused on the Prime, baring his sharpened denta.

"We really should invest in some close-range weaponry," Starscream mused. "Such as those handy swords of yours."

"For now, we must adapt with what we have," Optimus answered, shooting at Megatron as he charged forward. The dictator allowed his shielding to take the brunt of the hits, raising his Prime arm and wrapping his digits around the Star Saber. There was a slight, imperceptible moment of hesitation, Starscream realizing it came from Optimus as his optics focused on the bright sword.

He feared the Star Saber.

Megatron roared in anger as he brought down the sword, Optimus jerking to the side as a beam of energy flew past him. Muscle cables tightened, Starscream gritting his denta as corrupted code - a painful flashback - scattered across their processor.

"Prime!" He snarled, his voice jerking Optimus from the brief, crippling pause. "Now is not the time."

Something akin to resolve settled back across their frame, Optimus clinging onto the logic that now was indeed not the time for hesitation, even while their shared spark beat wildly against their chest plates. He was terrified, yes, but he could not allow fear to cloud his judgement. Besides, Starscream appeared to be anything but afraid of the ancient weapon; surely that meant he had no reason to either.

They merely needed to avoid its blasts and keep Megatron distracted from Bumblebee, who had recruited assistance from Jazz to carry the medic back to their base. Behind Megatron, Wheeljack ran toward him with his pair of katanas.

Wheeljack roared a battle cry, Megatron letting go of the Star Saber with his right servo, unsheathing his sword. He spun with amazing speed, meeting the Autobot's pair with his own. The shriek of metal clanging against metal rang out through the desert, Optimus taking advantage of the situation to lunge forward.

Megatron glanced behind himself to see the Seeker charging, however Optimus did not make it far before a spray of bullets smacked against his shiedling. On instinct he paused and shielded himself with his arm, Seeker wings pressing tight together to decrease the size of the target.

A squadron of Vehicon Seekers streaked past, shooting at the Autobots on the ground.

"We got him!" Jazz shouted from the Groundbridge portal, signaling the extraction was complete.

"Wheeljack, let us fall back!" Optimus ordered, hearing the Vehicons begin to circle back around.

The Wrecker grunted his acknowledgement, and with final push he shoved Megatron back, throwing the Decepticon leader off enough balance that he could not bring either of his swords forward and cut him in half whilst he ran towards the Groundbridge.

The titan did not hesitate, however, to turn around and attempt to cleave off Optimus' helm. The Prime was well versed in his enemy's fighting style, ducking as the silver blade whistled towards him. Continuing the motion he somersaulted, however that proved to be a mistake when his wings got into the way. Starscream squawked as they made an ungraceful effort to then roll sideways, though eventually Optimus managed to scramble into an upright position.

Megatron laughed, sheathing his sword as his servo once again gripped the Star Saber to assist in holding it, preparing for another swing.

"Still becoming accustomed to the body of a Seeker," he sneered. "You were never meant for the air, Prime! Your weakness will be your undoing."

"Not again, Megatron," he promised.

Just as Megatron made to swing the Star Saber again something flew from the Groundbridge, slamming into his chest plates with a thunk and hitting the dirt, where it stayed buried. Both he and Optimus registered the grenade at the same time, the Decepticon leader lunging for cover while the Prime scrambled towards the Groundbridge.

He barely made it inside when he heard the bomb go off, not slowing down until he made it to the other side of the bridge, where he jumped into the base.

His pedes hit metallic ground, then was met with complete and utter silence.

Looking up, Optimus saw Ratchet's frame laying perfectly still in the center of their main control room, surrounded by humans. He was jolted by a wail, Bumblebee holding Rafael in his servos as the young boy cried. He had his head turned away, unable to help the shuddering which wracked his body as he mourned the loss of a friend.

The same grief ached in Optimus' spark, yet he pushed it down. He could not afford to acknowledge it for the time being, needing a clear helm in order to continue commanding his Autobots.

"You are allowed to feel, Prime," Starscream reminded him. "Especially for your friend."

Optimus shook his helm. "I will, when there is time. But with Megatron still at large, we may not have time."

He looked up, seeing that Agent Fowler was near the entrance of the control room, the one which was used by humans. He was leaning against the wall, his head in his hands. Optimus realized he could not find Miko, who he assumed would be with Rafael, however it was also strange to him that the young boy was not with Jack at the hospital. Rafael was in so much distress, however, he did not think it appropriate to pry.

Ultra Magnus stood at the controls, standing taller in the presence of his leader.

"Sir . . . I believe it would be best if we moved Ratchet to the medical bay," he said slowly, carefully. He did not want to offend, however the commander had seen enough death that the process of burial was almost . . . procedural to him. "There he can remain until we decide what would be best."

Optimus gave a single nod, not meeting Magnus' optics. They were still trained on Ratchet, who looked almost peaceful . . . save for the large hole in his chest.

"That would be the best course of action," he agreed. "I am certain Ratchet will wish to be buried on Cybertron."

"Except the 'cons control it," Jazz pointed out. "And I don't think a secret burial would be right."

"I understand," Optimus took a long ventilation. "Which is why I believe it would be best if we set our sights to the New Darkmount."

Ultra Magnus seemed to choke on his air. "New Darkmount, sir? But that is the center of all Decepticon activity!"

"And not only is it nearly impenetrable, but it has massive fusion cannons, any of which may be trained in a major metropolis within a few thousand miles. If we provoke the Decepticons enough, they could use them." Wheeljack crossed his arms.

Starscream sounded thoughtful. "Except they have yet to be used. I suspect it is because they require a massive amount of energy, which is also necessary for their Spacebridge. Directing so much to both may drain it from other, equally necessary but less expensive assets. Cyclonus preferred to use the Spacebridge should he need reinforcements . . . Megatron may prefer the fusion cannons."

Optimus relayed the message, adding his own thoughts. "And since Bumblebee has destroyed the Spacebridges, it stands to reason Megatron may direct such resources to the fusion cannons until the bridges are repaired. If that is the case, it is imperative we disable them and destroy New Darkmount's core. Should we accomplish that, we will further cripple the Decepticon's hold on Earth."

His subordinates looked at one another, not liking what he was saying, however they were unable to truly counter his argument. Earth was their top priority, as without access to a Spacebridge outside of what the Decepticons were using, they could not make it to Cybertron alone.

"We don't have the firepower for a full assault," Ultra Magnus said, not fully agreeing but also not denying the obvious. "The best course of action may be to create a distraction, pulling the Decepticon forces away from their base while an infiltration team disables the core."

"I agree with your line of thought," Optimus replied, Starscream already providing several different plans of action. He flicked through them briefly, noting one common problem. "However, we lack the structural layout of New Darkmount."

"We may have a solution to that problem," Wheeljack offered. "Cyclonus is currently under interrogation; Colonel Lennox has already provided Decepticon communication frequencies, and I'd suspect they're nearly done with a detailed map of the facility."

"If that is truly the case, then I believe it is paramount we obtain them immediately," Optimus glanced at Bumblebee as Rafael hiccuped in his servos, his spark faltering just a little. He then returned his gaze to Agent Fowler, who he realized had yet to "put in his two cents." His face appeared ashen. "Agent Fowler, are you well?"

Silence settled across the Cybertronians as they stilled, though there was the flinch of armor as Rafael wailed again. Agent Fowler grit his teeth, his voice low.

"No."

"Jack." Starscream said in revelation.

Optimus felt himself leaning back, as if the man had yelled at him instead of whispering the word. The Prime felt his mouth open just a touch, however he was unsure what he was expecting himself to say.

"Jack . . . might not make it," the Agent continued, voice thick with grief. He pushed himself from the wall, heading towards the stairs. "He was in cardiac arrest at least from the time we received Ratchet's transmission, which was easily two or three minutes. They barely got him back."

"Humans can survive for up to five minutes without air before their brain begins to shut down," Starscream said matter-of-factly, but Optimus did not share that information. Now was not the time for objective truths.

"Is he stable?"

"As stable as he can be," his answers were short and clipped, barely holding in  their bitterness. There was a long silence, then - "he didn't deserve this."

"No, he did not," Optimus agreed, his expression soft. "I am sorry, Agent Fowler, for the pain this is causing you. I know the physicians are doing their best to ensure Jack gets the best medical care available."

Their liaison made his way up the stairs, leaning against the railing more than necessary.

Bumblebee stroked Rafael's back with a gentle digit, buzzing quiet reassurances to him. His normally large optics were smaller as he tried to absorb his partner's grief, his spark hurting immensely for him. In one fell swoop, they had both gained back and lost those the boy would consider good friends - Ratchet, his mentor, and Jack, an older brother who never forgot him.

"So, we're planning to attack Darkmount," Fowler was desperately trying to change the subject back to what they were discussing prior. "Just tell me what I need to do. I can get the ground units scrambled and the Air Force-"

"I will not ask your military to join this battle," Optimus said firmly. "I cannot condone more human casualties in this war."

"They're your military, Prime," Agent Fowler corrected, his voice uncharacteristically stern. Usually there was a discernible point of weakness, one that told the Autobot commander the Agent would concede to his wishes if he pushed the matter hard enough. This time, there was none of that. "We've been fighting this war for three years alongside the rest of the 'bots. We're not just human casualties, and we will take back our home. You need us if you want to make enough noise, and our men and women are willing to lay down their lives for this."

Optimus set his jaw, still ready to argue, when Starscream interrupted him mid-thought.

"They are adamant creatures, Prime," he mused. "And though I was reluctant at first, they proved to be invaluable. We need them."

There was a tense moment of silence, then Optimus was the one who finally broke, and agreed.

"Prepare those who are ready," he instructed Agent Fowler. "I will obtain the current schematics of New Darkmount from Colonel Lennox, then we will forge a plan. We must act swiftly, before Megatron can mount a proper counterassault."

Everyone nodded, Wheeljack and Bulkhead tasked with moving Ratchet's frame, Jazz working with Ultra Magnus on a game plan while Optimus disappeared into the bowels of the facility, seeking out Cyclonus. Bumblebee stayed with Rafael while he cried, comforting him as his small wails echoed through the room.

⬵⤁

Megatron snarled in rage as he beheld the sight of his third-in-command, the mech lying still on the medical berth Knock Out had transported him to.

"How dare he," he growled. "Should Jack survive his injuries, I will ensure he regrets his crimes against the Decepticons!" He whirled on his medic. "When will the repairs on the Spacebridge be complete?!"

Knock Out stammered to answer. "O-our side is nearly done, and from Dreadwing's report it appears they will be finished within the hour."

"Good," Megatron turned from Soundwave's corpse completely, a fire in his optics, rage that Knock Out had never seen before. "Once the repairs are complete, Dreadwing is to bring his Seekers to Earth."

The planet's name was spat like a curse, Knock Out merely agreeing with his lord, following him on trembling pedes to the central hub of New Darkmount. He was no idiot; Megatron intended to bring the Seekers to Earth so they may lay waste to it. He suspected the Decepticon would start by destroying the entire state of Nevada, then use their fusion cannons to bomb major cities within their vicinities. He had spared Earth merely because it had yet to garner his attention; but now that Jack, a mere human, had caused the death of two important Decepticon officers - though whether Ratchet was an "officer" or not was still in question - Earth was now in his sights. The planet would feel the wrath of its Decepticon overlords.

And no human would dare to retaliate ever again.