Chapter Text
When Dreadwing later came into the med bay to inform Knockout of Breakdown's passing, the medic simply stood at his console and stared at him. Through him. Completely numb to every wretched, mournful word that left his abhorrent intake. He already knew, of course, but hearing Dreadwing's recount of the failed mission made him want to purge his tanks and punch a wall at the same time.
"...I was unable to free myself, but I heard him... cry out, from further away. I tried to comm him for his status, but he wouldn't respond." The Second In Command explained, staring down at the med bay floor with a mixed look of shame and sorrow.
Knockout felt another wave of nausea grip his intake and rob him of his equilibrium, grabbing hold of the console for stability as he forced a shaky invent through his frame. He wanted to tell Dreadwing to stop, to just go away, but when he continued, the words were so spark-wrenching the racer nearly blue-screen crashed.
"When I finally managed to untangle the webs, I followed the direction of Breakdown's previous shout. The spilled energon was unmistakable - he had truly perished by Arachnid's servo, and I could only hope with honor - but... none of his remains were present."
Knockout suddenly felt the tiniest flicker of hope.
"I swear to the allspark Knockout, I would never have left the area and abandoned our comrade without a proper burial. Never! He deserved an honorable rest, but no matter how I searched the surroundings, I could not find him, nor a trail of energon. I am sorry I have failed you in this regard. I know you and Breakdown had worked closely for millennia."
You have no fragging idea… Knockout's spark shattered again, still grasping for a bond that wasn't there anymore. Yet denial clung to his processor and began whispering its sweet lies and promises into his audials, blocking whatever the blue and gold seeker said next.
He wasn't there. He could still be alive! Breakdown's alive! Don't listen to Dreadwing, don't listen to that gaping hole in your spark. He's alive!
"I apologize, Knockout. But I must take leave now that you have been informed. Arachnid has challenged Lord Megatron to a duel, and I must provide backup should she best our ranks twice in this pit-forsaken cycle." Dreadwing cursed, turning to leave the med bay.
As soon as the large steel doors folded closed behind him, the combat medic slid down the console and immediately purged his tanks on the floor, trembling violently. He shifted his pedes so that they wouldn't get covered in the energon pooling in front of him, and wiped the energon from his intake with the back of a servo. He didn't even realize he was crying, until the movement left his faceplate feeling wet and his vision blurred.
Was Breakdown alive? Was he in trouble and leaking to death since Knockout wasn't there to patch him up? Was he searching for a way back to the Nemesis? Was he dead?
The thoughts swirled like a plague in the red mech's processor, driving his sparkache and increasing the desire to continue vomiting.
So he simply complied.
Knockout hurled again and again until his tanks had nothing left, and proceeded to choke on dry heaves even after his system was completely emptied. Energon and coolant streamed down his pale faceplate and mingled in the pool at his pedes, creating a sickly teal that only reminded him of what Dreadwing had described in the forest: Breakdown's energon covering the ground, glowing in the fading light.
He wanted his partner back. He needed him. It just wasn't fair! Why would Primus take away the kindest, most selfless mech the Well had ever forged!? Why didn't Dreadwing enlist somebot else for the mission!? Why did it have to be him!?
"B-Breakdown..." The medic sobbed, curling in on himself.
Truly, he had never felt so broken, so alone, in his life.
<· > < · > < · > < · > < ·>
Knockout didn't remember falling into recharge.
But he suddenly awoke to the sound of the med bay doors opening, and heavy pedesteps coming inside the room. He startled upright from where he lay slumped against a console in front of a pool of purged energon, and the memories came back to his processor with a crushing weight.
The Aston Martin quickly wiped his faceplate with a servo and stood up, hoping he didn't look like a complete mess as he addressed the mechs that had appeared for repairs.
"Ah, my liege. Dreadwing. To what do I owe the honor?" He observed, turning on the charm like flipping a switch.
"Lord Megatron requires immediate medical attention, doctor. Arachnid had an Insecticon warrior under her command, and it proved to be a fierce adversary." The blue and gold seeker explained, leading their leader over to the closest medical berth.
Knockout immediately grabbed his medical scanner and started taking diagnostics, searching for more internal injuries than what he could see externally. Megatron's fusion cannon was covered in a thick layer of Arachnid's webs, and while his entire frame was littered with superficial scratches and dents, a concerningly deep gash on his neck cabling was steadily leaking energon. Further, he was putting little weight on his right leg, relying mostly on Dreadwing for support when he walked.
The cherry-red racer quickly grabbed a collection of tools and began welding the punctured line closed on the gladiator's neck, subconscious medical routines taking over his functions like cruising down an empty highway.
"Breakdown, see what you can do about those webs." He directed subliminally, gesturing vaguely to where his partner needed to work.
The cobalt nurse practitioner didn't respond.
"Uuuhhh… Knockout?" Dreadwing replied instead, forcing him to pause his work and look up at the seeker, "Breakdown is no longer with us… remember?"
What?
What is he talking about?
Breakdown's right-
...
oh.
"Is there a way I can assist instead?" The Second In Command offered, already moving to grab hold of the sticky webs.
Knockout fell silent, his systems shutting down into their most basic "survive" protocol. He continued to methodically work on his leader with servos that shook, while his expression appeared to literally shut off. There was no emotion, no words. He didn't even dare to think anymore. There were only shallow vents, deliberate movements, and a hollow stare that saw to Lord Megatron's repairs.
The leader of the Decepticons and his first lieutenant noticed the drastic change, but said nothing. They both knew the grief their CMO was going through, and understood that everybot handled it differently, and at their own pace. Granted, war usually forced soldiers to move on pretty quickly, but never did that feeling of loss dissipate. Many simply turned it into fuel against their enemies, like the split spark Dreadwing harbored for his fallen twin, or the revenge Arcee promised against Arachnid for her late partner.
It was morbidly funny; that now Knockout and the Autobot two-wheeler had something in common, having had their partners terminated by that wretched spider.
"Done." The medic whispered, gaze drawn as he stepped away from the medical berth with his collection of used tools.
"Appreciated, Knockout. I will let you return to your usual tasks." Megatron acknowledged, rising from the slab.
He tested his weight on his legs before nodding minutely in approval, striding out of the medical center without another word. Dreadwing however, stood still and watched the medic place his utensils in a large metal basin, running the facet briefly to soak them underwater. The seeker wanted to offer his condolences again, but found the words to be stuck in his intake, and instead glanced around the room.
He immediately noticed the energon puddle hiding behind the console, still faintly glowing as a sign of recency, and shuddered. That had definitely been in Knockout's tanks the last jorn he was in here to inform him of Breakdown's termination.
Dreadwing decided not to draw attention to it, given the racer's already unstable state, and took his leave of the med bay before he felt compelled to purge his tanks as well. Perhaps he could at least bring a cube back for Knockout when he stopped by the energon dispenser later...
Guilt clawed at his spark as he wandered the purple-lit halls of the Nemesis, knowing he was partially responsible for Breakdown's death. He had never really minded the mech. A simpleton, yes, but a loyal warrior. He distantly reminded the seeker of Skyquake, and Dreadwing prayed to Primus that he met his end quickly, unlike his dear twin.
But other than praying to a deity who lay dormant in the core of their dead homeworld, and helping replace the energon the CMO lost in his anguish, there simply just wasn't anything he could do to help the medic.
There simply just wasn't anything anybot could do to help the medic...
…not anymore, at least.