1...2...3...

1...2...3...

1...2...3...

A slow count between injections of the altered energon, and this goes on for about 1 minute and 23 seconds. It's a painful process, but necessary with my fragile spark and thin armor. Shockwave puts the last of the liquid in my systems, and I cringe.

"This will last you until the second shift."

I nod my helm.

As a vehicon, it is my duty to do my best at any task given, but I'm different. My task is to simply survive. I was created with a weak spark, and my armor is far too thin and soft for battle. I look like any other vehicon, other than not wearing a mask, so my faceplate is plainly seen by everyone. Usually it's thought that we vehicons have red optics, much like the Decepticon Medic Knockout, whom I have never met, but in truth, most of us have a form of dark blue optic coloration. The red visor is mainly an intimidation tactic, which usually works on the humans of this planet. I've been told that my features are quite fair for a vehicon, but I think otherwise, mainly because those who know me and my... complications, sugar-coat everything, simply because they feel bad for my situation.

"I still think this treatment illogical, it does nothing for your spark."

Shockwave, always one to be blunt, and the only one who doesn't sugar-coat anything. It's why I've grown to take an, I guess you could say illogical liking to him.

"The dear Doctor said to my carrier it will prolong my expected life cycle, not that it would strengthen my spark." I said, sliding off the berth.

"An accurate statement to a point," Shockwave said, almost sounding exasperated with this small ray of hope for me, "I'm assuming he did not give her the data of this serum?"

I shook my helm 'no', and the mad scientist turned to his computers, bringing up a file. I could tell it was the serum file, and part of me didn't want to read it, the small bit of hope I was allowed having the possibility of being stamped out like a small fire. But, curiosity took hold, and I started reading. Being a cripple, though I honestly prefer invalid, I was allowed to do small things, and one of these, was to sort files, delete old ones, make new ones. In short, I had to become a sort of tech genius to survive on the war ship, and the rise of Darkmount helped my cause even more.

As I read on, I found that the serum did practically nothing to help me, other than a small energy boost to get me through the day. Knockout felt bad enough to lie to my carrier. So I've had to go through this painful process every day, when it does absolutely nothing.

"I'm sorry to say, that-"

"Oh don't you start too!" I yelled at him, infuriated, torn and broken, wanting to cry, "I have enough of the others giving me sorrowful looks and saying sorry for something they have no control over! They can't change my future, and neither can your apologetic words!"

I panted from my rant, a digit pointed at the mech who had volunteered to do the entire procedure, why, I do not know, but that is besides the point.

"You are flustered."

"How long did it take to compute that?!" I crossed my arms, scratching my armor and making myself wince. It's difficult, having armor almost as soft as talc.

Shockwave took my servo, and examined the damage I had done to myself, noting the deep gash on my right arm.

"You are far too careless."

I huffed.

"So I'm told."

"You almost severed a wire."

"I would have lived."

"Indeed."

He brought me to sit on the medical table, not wanting to reset the berth, and looked for a welder. Once he found one, he got to work on repairing my arm.

There was a long silence, other then the torch to my wound, and a few involuntary winces from me. When he finished both arms, I was careful when I folded them into each other this time, and started out of the laboratory wing of Darkmount.

"I believe you confuse pity with understanding."

I stopped, and looked back to the one eyed mech.

"Pardon?"

"Pitty is when one feels bad for another, so gives them special treatment, understanding is when one knows what the other may be going through, or is going through." He turned to his computers, and hid the file about the failed hope for my life, "I believe, that I understand what you are going through."

"Well... believing and knowing are two very different things," I sighed. Like he would know what it is I go through every single day, what pain I hide, and what I show in order to hide that pain.

"You feel useless, like you have no purpose," he began, and I stopped my exit once more, "Stuck, and unable to find something that may prove yourself in your seeming absence of what you fight for." he turned to look at me, finding an astonished, and almost frightened expression on my faceplate, "Of course, this may not be the case."

I felt the dents slowly start to form in the upper armor of my arms as I kept myself from crying, but that didn't stop the few tears from hitting the dark metal floor. He's so... blunt about it, and then backs out of the truth as if it is a possible lie because it's unmarked territory for him. He has no clue, yet he knows everything. He shows himself as emotionless, yet here he is spurting out what it is I feel inside. And with so little effort.

I felt a gentle servo to my shoulder, and I leaned into his chassis, not quite caring about what his reaction would be. I just needed the unbiased support. The understanding support.

"H-how did you know?" I finally asked through sniffles and sobs.

"I was lost on Cybertron, surrounded by a wasteland, until I found further scientific work, and resumed my duty."

"You found a purpose," I sniffed, "and hoped for the best."

"I found a logical course of action," he corrected, though it was more like he was confirming my statement, "The rest was happenstance."

"Says the one who runs on figures and probability rather than luck." I chuckled, my helm still resting on his chassis. I was surprised he hadn't forced me away yet. I was even more surprised when I felt a gentle servo on my back plates. Almost no one touched me in fear they would wound me... and it always hurt if they did find the courage to touch me... but this was different. It didn't hurt, Shockwave wasn't afraid of hurting me, and I found that his touch calmed me.

"I suppose my reputation precedes me." he admitted, and I snickered.

"No kidding. Who knew the supposed emotionless Shockwave, would be giving mental support."

"Only you, (Y/N)."

I could tell this was a warning as well as him answering my hidden question, but hearing him say my designation, was almost euphoric. He never said my designation until now.

Looking back up at him, I smiled, and he gently wiped away what was left of my tears. I could only wish this moment would last, but that is a fantasy, and we vehicons don't get to indulge in such fantasies very often. I left after my carrier had commed me, wondering where on Cybertron I was. Giving Shockwave one last goodbye, and deciding to be brave and kiss the side of his one red optic, I quickly made my way back to the others.

As a vehicon, it is my duty to do my best at any task given, but I'm different. My task, is to simply keep my optics open for an opportunity to prove myself, for a chance to prove Shockwave's theory right, and to show him just how thankful I am for giving it to me straight, rather than pitying me. I never saw his reaction to my show of affection towards him, but my spark feels stronger already.