Not the Way It Once Was... (RID2015 Short-Story)

"Well look who it is! I haven't seen you in orns! What happened to you?"

Knockout chuckled as he came up to the counter. "Had to give a speech to the Medical Council... Gimme something to cool the jitters."

The bartender smirked as he turned to fill a cannister for the medic. "I meant 'where have you been?' Like I said, it's been orns, and you used to be a very frequent visitor."

"Oh." Knockout took the cannister. "I was banished from Cybertron for insulting those cons that were impersonating the High Council."

"Ah...Got it worked out with the new council then?"

Knockout nodded as he took a sip. "Got my job and credentials back, too."

"Wow... Back to your first answer, what kind of speech? An apology?"

"I encountered a spreading condition amongst the Cybertronian Colonies while I was away. Something serious."

"A virus?"

"No...But something we are all at some risk of developing. I can't go into the details other than no bot is the same afterward."

"Sounds nasty...The kid know you're back?"

Knockout's face fell, looking down at his energon as he stirred it with a finger. "No...I haven't had time to see him yet. I'm planning to, though. As soon as I get the chance."

"Good.The two of you seemed close."

"We were..." You don't even know how close...

As he sipped on his energon, Knockout's thoughts went to that day...The day his own life had been forever changed...

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Something was wrong, he'd known that for cycles.

That night, after Optimus Prime had sacrificed himself to save the planet, he'd felt out of sorts. He'd ignored it at the time, blaming it on the event. What bot wouldn't be shaken up after defeating Unicron, watching their former leader send himself into exile, and then witnessing the leader of the winning team die to let others live?

He'd gone back to the Nemesis, using the medical bay's scanners to do a self-diagnostic, but had found nothing wrong. In fact, his reports came back better than normal. Over time, however, he'd felt a tension in his joints, and pressure in his chestplate building.

Now he sat in the tower he'd made his home. With the power back on, he'd turned what was obviously once a war outpost into a simplistic home of sorts. Energon stored under the floor, a recharge station in the back, and some medical scanners set up in the corner. It wasn't perfect, but it served its purpose.

His back was against the wall, his legs pulled up as pain pulsed through his chassis in waves.

The sounds of Cybertron's reconstruction came from outside, creaking plates moving together, the occasional hum of power being restored in nearby structures, and the movement of bots as they worked. He'd seen a ship of returning bots come in from the sky the night before, but he hadn't heard yet who was aboard. He had helped the first few bots to arrive home with their wounded and checking for any unknown injuries in order to hopefully gain their trust and to help Ratchet not be so overloaded, but once Autobot medics other than Ratchet returned, the new bots went to them instead.

He still wasn't seen as an Autobot...to them, he was still a 'Con.

Another wave pulled him out of his thoughts. His spark was pounding, but he didn't cry out. Who would come? He opened his chest plates, feeling the pressure ease a bit. But he gave a soft cry as he saw a silvery substance moving inside of his chest compartment, pulsing and shifting like it had a life of its own.

He knew this substance, what medic didn't? Cybermatter...The substance that formed them, their planet, everything cybertronian. He grimaced, his clawed fingers leaving scratches in the floor. His optics were malfunctioning, flickering between showing the patchwork ceiling and darkness every time a wave of pain would hit him. His cries came out in gasps, fluid leaking from his optics and spilling down his faceplate. Cybermatter was coating his insides, and nobody was here to help him. He could be going offline any moment; Primus, let it end...

All of a sudden the pressure faded and he let out a cry of relief, shutting his optics tightly as the pain eased, but didn't subside entirely.

Movement against his arm caught his attention, and he turned his helm a little to investigate, his optics only widening as he saw a tiny, silvery body squirming on the floor.

Knockout whimpered as he sat up, putting one hand to his chest compartment, now closed but still throbbing with pain. His attention was more on the little life now feebly squirming across the floor, optics tightly shut and whimpering as it seemed to search for something.

"By the Primes..." He whispered, slowly moving his fingers towards the shape. It reacted to his slightest touch, almost reaching for the touch. It was definitely cybertronian, and very much alive, but...Had it come from him? He had never even heard of such a thing! It was impossible! It was...

Knockout's thoughts came to a halt as the tiny cybertronian took his fingers and wrapped its own around them, putting its mouth on the tips. Knockout should've felt grossed out as he felt their glossia brush against his fingers like they were a food source, but he wasn't disgusted in the least... Food! "You're hungry...!"

The shape was immediately scooped into his arms, and he scrambled across the floor, holding it close to his chest as he rummaged through boxes and crates for something to use to feed the newborn. "Something, something...!" He hissed, finally finding a syringe. "...It'll work."

He quickly cleaned the syringe and sterilized it before opening a container of energon. At one point, he would not have bothered sanitizing anything unless it was for himself, but that was before...

He filled the syringe then slowly allowed it to drip onto the little bot's lips until it opened its mouth and he was able to squirt it into its mouth. "Good..." He gave a quick look, realizing he hadn't yet identified their gender. "...Mech...Good mech..." He whispered.

The little mech's optics finally opened, white and colorless like the rest of them. His little fingers brushed against the sides of the syringe, as if trying to hold onto it himself.

This wasn't right. Bots weren't supposed to come from bots, and any bots he'd seen born had emerged at the perfect size and maturity to be programmed as soldiers, but then again that had been during the war, when any able body was never wasted for either side. Still, this protoform seemed much too small and under-developed to be in the waking world, and this world was not one that would be kind to such a young, helpless bot.

"Primus...!" Knockout whispered. Was this the source of that odd feeling he'd had since they'd returned? Surely it was, because that out-of-sorts feeling was now replaced by...Something else. His programming as a medic and fighter has being over-ridden by this new urge to give up everything and do anything to keep this tiny life safe and happy.

A rumbling from outside shook the room, and Knockout ducked into the corner, out of view from the window but peering out like a frightened fugitive. Just in sight was yet another refugee ship coming in for a landing, its lights barely visible now as it came ever closer to the planet.

Knockout looked down at the little mech in his arms, still trying to get energon from the syringe even though it was empty. He pulled the container over to him with his foot, refilling the syringe without looking away from the window. "...I need answers..."