Flashwing whimpered as the painful memories finally ceased. Some element of control returning to his processor.
I just want to be accepted. I just want to be loved. But I keep messing up…hurting other’s that didn’t need to be hurt. Making everyone hate me as a result.
No…not everyone. Berylstar…Rustshift…they didn’t hate him. By some miracle, he found himself in the hands of two mechs that looked past all his flaws. Both innate and learned.
But so many others did hate him. Could he ever be truly happy and safe with threats on all sides?
Would it even be worth trying?
A voice. Someone was trying to talk to him. He fluttered his optics open and was greeted by Rustshift’s face. He was quickly joined by Berylstar: they both looked relieved, smiles on their faces.
Flashwing blinked a few times, trying to discern where he was. He wasn’t in Berylstar’s lab...or even his house for that matter. No…this was too clean…clinical. He became aware of the faint beeping of monitoring equipment, finally noticing the leads attached to his chassis, one being an energon drip.
Medbay. He was in a proper medbay.
“Weh-ell, about time he decided to wake up,” a new voice remarked. A white and red bot now entering his field of view.
He’d have to be processor defunct to not know who that was. Never thought he’d end up in the infamous Ratchet’s care….