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Already Broken	By : Breech_Loader Category: Transformers > G1 > AU/AR Views: 3421 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Already Broken

Co-Written by Harley Quinn hyenaholic and Red Alert

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Harley: I’m sorry about all the time I’ve spent not adding any chapters.

Red Alert: Don’t you worry – it’ll be fine.

~~~

Chapter Eight: Denial

As usual, Sideswipe didn't knock before entering his shared room. But when he did, he noticed the smell of internal Energon. The smell was coming from the washracks, and he quickly headed for the room, concerned. He'd been worried about his brother lately, but he wasn't expecting what he saw.

There was his brother, curled up into a tiny ball on the washrack floor in a now quite large pool of what should have been inside his body. Energon was leaking steadily from his chassis - and what Sideswipe made out to be his brother's front bumper could be seen in front of him, as if the yellow Lamborghini was curling around it to protect it. Fresh tears glistened on his cheeks - he was awake but even then, just barely. It wasn't surprising, really, considering the situation.

"Sweet slagging Primus on a stick, Sunny!" Sideswipe almost screamed, "What the slagging pit happened to you?!" he rushed over to his brother, kneeling beside him and gently turning him so that he was facing the red mech.

All Sideswipe got in reply was a sort of muffled moan of equal parts pain and despair. Sunstreaker shifted slightly on the floor, emitting a pained, hacking cough and spitting a mouthful of Energon out beside him. He offlined his optics then, figuring he didn't want to see the look on his brother's face.

"Oh Primus, oh slag..." Sideswipe held his brother close, ending up with quite a lot of energon smeared on his chassis, "Hold on there, Sunny, I'm gonna radio Ratchet and he'll fix you up and then however this happened, we'll find out together." Upon saying this, he promptly radioed the medlab with a request for aid.

Sunstreaker squirmed a little in Sideswipe's grip, weak fingers reaching to grab hold of his brother's forearms, "No-" Sunstreaker rasped with difficulty and choked, followed by another hacking cough and a moan into Sideswipe's chest.

It was too late. Sideswipe had already radioed Ratchet. He looked down at Sunstreaker again, unsure that his brother would last as long as it took for Ratchet to get here and then take him back, "You're losing too much Energon. You can use half of my ration for now," he took out half a cube and started to pour it down Sunstreaker's throat.

Sunstreaker, despite his current state, spluttered and choked on the fluid - deliberately perhaps? "Stop it-" a gasp and a lurch, "d-don't!!"

Sideswipe continued to pour the liquid down his brother's throat until the cube was empty, "How did this happen?" he asked, cradling Sunstreaker's head in the crook of his arm.

"Not-" Sunstreaker spluttered and spat, "-saying... a-anything! No!! You- you'll just- augh!!" he writhed and convulsed in Sideswipe's arms, the pain shooting through his whole chassis again, "-Tell Ratchet! You... I know you will!!"

"Sunny, I'm your brother, you can trust me!" Sideswipe insisted, "And besides, Ratchet's our medic, you can trust him too!"

"N-no!" the yellow twin protested, "He'll- stop this... a-and- no! Just NO!"

"You're bleeding to death, and you need to see a medic, right NOW," Sideswipe replied, "I don't care what you say, Ratchet will be here in a matter of minutes and then you'll be fine."

"I'm fine- as it is!" Sunny insisted.

"No, you're NOT fine, you look like somebody attacked you!" Sideswipe replied.

Ratchet entered the room, huffing slightly, "You weren't kidding when you said Sunstreaker looked like he'd crawled out of a blender," he said, "Right, first things first, we're getting him to the medbay."

"You are- NOT!" Sunstreaker made an attempt at wriggling out of Sideswipe's grip and getting as far away from the medic and his brother as he could. But his efforts were in vain - he was weak, too weak, and it showed, "Get lost!"

"What happened to him?" Sideswipe wailed, "He keeps acting weird, like he hates me, like he wanted this to happen!"

"Well," Ratchet took Sunstreaker off Sideswipe and held him firmly, "That's a sure sign that he did want it to happen. Either way, we need to get to the medbay." The medic started walking towards the medbay, carrying Sunstreaker in his arms.

"No-" Sunstreaker moaned and howled for lack of anything else to say or do in response to the medic's actions. How in the Pit had he managed to land himself here, for Primus' sake? "Stop it! STOP it!!"

Ratchet ignored Sunstreaker's weak struggles, and with Sideswipe in tow, carried the yellow mech to the medbay, "If you keep fighting like this, I'll have to give you a sedative," he warned Sunstreaker.

"You won't!" The Lamborghini tried to sink his teeth into Ratchet's arms, "P-please- DON'T!"

"You're really not being that persuasive right now," Ratchet pointed out, pulling his arm away from Sunstreaker, and reaching into a compartment for the EMP he needed to knock the wounded Lamborghini out, "Don't worry, this will be painless."

"Please-!" Fresh tears were running nonstop down Sunstreaker's faceplates again, making him look even worse than he had done already, "Please! Don't! I d-don't- don't need your slaggin' help-! Leave me ALONE!" He summoned what little strength he had left and surged out of Ratchet's arms and straight into the med bay wall. How he managed that he'd never know but he didn't care at that moment – he was just stumbling about on the verge of collapse, trying to find the door.

Ratchet sighed, and moved forward, intending to grab Sunstreaker, lay him on the table and sedate him. The first part was easy, as was the second part, "Lie still, Sunstreaker," he told the twin, "You could get damaged if you keep struggling like this."

"Any more than I am now?!" he howled, "I don't care! Don't- don't get that slaggin' stuff NEAR me!" he eyed the sedatives with dull blue optics that had a look of what was almost fear in them.

Ratchet just sighed and shook his head, then pressed the EMP to Sunstreaker's head, and fired gently, sedating him.

Sideswipe looked on with misery, "How did this happen, Ratchet?" he asked.

"From the looks of things, the condition you found him in and the way he's behaved about it, it seems that Sunstreaker did this to himself," Ratchet replied, "I suggest that you get yourself some rest, or occupy your CPU with something else. You can't help in here. I'll be here working on him, and I'll let you know if there's any change in his condition."

~~~

Wheeljack peered around the doorway into the medbay. Ratchet was working over an unconscious Sunstreaker, and the yellow Lamborghini looked terrible. Wheeljack suddenly felt very guilty. Apart from removing parts from Sunstreaker, he really should have guessed the yellow mech was going through a rough time and told somebody, like Ratchet, or Prime. With a sigh, he walked into the medbay, "Um, Ratchet?" he asked, looking from the ambulance to the mech on the table.

Ratchet replied without looking up, too engrossed in his work to care, "What?"

"Um, I've got something I need to say about Sunstreaker," said Wheeljack, "After I heard that he'd been hurt, and moved into the medbay... well... a few days ago, he came to see me, and he asked me to remove some parts. Little things, things that he didn't really need..."

Ratchet's gaze had hardened considerably, "What? It was you?" He looked dismayed beyond belief, "I took note of the fact his wing mirrors, spoiler, front bumper and seats had vanished into what we can only assume is thin air... but you? You removed them?" Suddenly he was angry, "WHY, Wheeljack? What in Primus' name possessed you to do that?"

"He SAID he wanted to go faster!" Wheeljack replied, his voice almost a wail, "I tried to put him off, but he still insisted on it and he was acting practically normal! And now I feel really stupid for not seeing what was going on! And besides, I only removed his seats," he added, "He was asking for me to remove all sorts of parts."

"'Only his seats'?" Ratchet snarled, prodding Wheeljack in the faceplate, "Do you realise what you could have done here? Just look at him!" Ratchet stepped aside and gestured viciously at the yellow Lamborghini on the main repair berth, "I expect he thought you were encouraging him to cut other bits off!" What an assumption.

"Well, he probably would have done so whether I’d removed his seats or not," Wheeljack replied, "He'd just have ended up damaging himself even worse."

"You encouraged him," Ratchet snapped, "And now look what's happened! LOOK at him, Wheeljack!"

"I can see him just fine, Ratchet," Wheeljack scowled, "You think I came up with the brilliant idea of him destroying himself? You think I went into his room and encouraged him? What's made him act this way?"

"You tell me. There's no way I'll get it out of him now. I doubt he has any trust left." Ratchet gazed sadly at his patient, "Apparently Sideswipe doesn't know either. Just found him on the floor in their private washracks. Whatever it is, it's clearly bad enough for Sunstreaker to keep it from his twin of all people. Poor kids."

"Let me just check something..." Wheeljack bent over Sunstreaker and lifted a few parts carefully, looking under them, finally looking into his holding tank, "You know, his Energon tank's practically empty," he pointed out, "Just a few dredges on the sides. He can't have refuelled in at least three days. And that's not counting how much he's been bleeding either."

"I don't know," Ratchet shook his head, "Perhaps he's just been feeling ill. I've had the likes of Fireflight and Air Raid in here whinging about feeling sick having taken nothing into their systems."

Wheeljack closed the plating again, "Oh yes," he shrugged, "First I'm the one to blame for all of this, then you decide that it's actually because he's not feeling well."

"You just helped things along," Ratchet interrupted. It was, unfortunately, true that he'd never encountered symptoms like these, all together, in his whole career as a military medic. To be honest with himself, he didn't know what to do, "Perhaps Sideswipe knows something that we don't? He must have spoken to Sunstreaker at least once in the past three days. He might have picked up anything abnormal."

"You'd have thought he'd have told somebody," Wheeljack pointed out, "Fine, I'll go get him. He can't have gone far." The inventor frowned again, and left the medbay, looking for Sideswipe.

It was less than ten minutes before he tracked the younger mech down in his room, "Sideswipe?" he asked the young mech, who was sitting on his bunk, "You're needed in the medbay. Ratchet wants to talk to you."

Sideswipe looked up, unhappy, "It's about Sunny, isn't it?" he asked.

"Yes," Wheeljack replied, "But don't worry, Sunstreaker hasn't gotten any worse. Come on, don't worry about this." The older mech held a hand out to Sideswipe.

Sideswipe sighed, and took Wheeljack's hand, standing up, "Ratchet's going to ask me what I knew about this, isn't he?" he checked, before they headed back to the medbay.

"Probably, yes," Wheeljack admitted, "But you needn't worry, nobody is accusing you of anything. Just tell us what's been going on and it'll be easier to help Sunstreaker.” Wheeljack led Sideswipe into the medbay, sitting him down where he could see what was going on with Sunstreaker.

Sideswipe rested his head in one hand and stared at his poor brother. Already he could feel the tears welling up - he twisted round in the chair and rested his arms on the back, trying his best to keep himself composed. He had to be strong, for Sunstreaker's sake as well as his. Wiping the tears from his face with one hand he turned back round again to face Ratchet, who was waiting patiently for him to calm down a little.

“Okay, Sideswipe,” Wheeljack spoke up, while the red and white Lamborghini wiped his face, “Did you know anything about what was going on with Sunstreaker?” He didn't know where the conversation was going to head, but somebody had to start it.

"We need to know if he's been acting even a little odd," Ratchet spoke up from his place leaning against the opposite wall, "And we need to know it now."

Sideswipe snuffled a little, but relented, "A few days ago," he muttered, "Sunny was washing himself in the shower and I hadn't seen him all day and he was acting all... miserable and depressed. I tried to get it out of him but he just got all snappy... like he was avoiding me."

Ratchet cocked his head just slightly to one side, "He was avoiding you?" he paused, "You said miserable. How?"

"I don't know," Sideswipe said, "He was just... I should have been watching out for him, now this has happened... all I know is that he was spending a lot of time training... he was hardly even getting any recharge in, and he was always telling everybody - me too - to just leave him alone... Spent a lot of time cleaning up marks and stuff too..." Sideswipe looked as if he was about to cry again.

"Nobody's blaming you, Sideswipe," Wheeljack tried patting Sideswipe's hand.

"Cleaning." Ratchet repeated, face contorting into a frown. He was starting to fit the pieces together but he still didn't understand, "Hasn't he always been like that, though? So vain it's almost OCD-like?"

"Yeah," Sideswipe muttered, "But... it just seemed like it was worse. I mean, he was acting like it was the only important thing to do. I didn't get it... but it didn't seem right..."

"I'm starting to suspect something," Ratchet mumbled, "but... I don't know, for once. It doesn't seem right. I've never seen it in a Transformer before, let alone one of our own kind. I'm not entirely certain on what to do to confirm my suspicions..."

As Sideswipe hunched over and started to cry, Wheeljack sat up, "What suspicions?" he asked, "What is it you're suspecting?"

Ratchet pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think, "It looks to me like he has some kind of... disorder. If you wish to put it that way."

"Which one?" Wheeljack asked, "There's about a thousand viruses he could be infected with that could have caused it."

"Not viruses." Ratchet waved an arm, "I repeat: a disorder." He paused to download some information straight from the Internet, "I do believe you can't 'catch' it, so to speak. It just... develops. As I said though," he spoke hastily now, "I'm not sure. I don't want to leap to conclusions and treat him in entirely the wrong way."

Sideswipe looked up, "Yeah, I get the idea," he said, "So what's wrong with Sunny? Or what is it you think is wrong with him?"

Ratchet lazily waved one hand, "Looks like the result of..." he wasn't sure how to put it, but he tried his best, "Your brother is a perfectionist. He's vain. He's perceived as violent by everyone else. We all know he's... difficult. How do you think that makes him feel?"

Sideswipe hesitated, and considered this. How would it make him feel? "Lonely?" he suggested, "Angry? Inadequate?" there was a pause as Ratchet nodded, "But I kept telling him I just wanted to help!" he wailed, "I even tried giving him room! It didn't help at all!"

"Giving him 'room to breathe', as I believe the humans put it, clearly wasn't enough." Ratchet locked optics with Sideswipe, "You're right when you say angry, inadequate, and lonely. 'Inadequate' is the key word." The CMO moved to stand closer to the repair berth, folding his arms and gazing down at the yellow Lamborghini, "From what I can see, he's been trying to conform to everyone else's standards. He can't be the best frontline warrior we have and be a social butterfly at the same time. At least, not in his mind."

Sideswipe burst into noisy tears, "And now I've practically failed him!" the mech wailed, ""I... don't know what to do!"

"Neither did I at first but I think I now know what's going on in that processor of his. You haven't failed him, Sideswipe - you did your best but he shoved you away. That's not your fault. None of this is," Ratchet was watching the monitors he'd hooked up to Sunstreaker now, "In fact, nobody is to blame."

Sideswipe wiped his face again, "But... if he doesn't want to be repaired, how are we supposed to help him?" he all but sobbed.

"It seems to me we'll have to intervene whether he likes it or not. We've got to change his way of thinking." Ratchet eyed the red twin, curious, "Sideswipe. What are you crying over? Your brother is stable. He'll live. We're going to help him."

Sideswipe snuffled again, still looking miserable, "What if he winds up hating me for this?" he asked, "Before I contacted you for help, he told me not to, but I did anyway... and he told me not to feed him half of my Energon, but I did that too... he probably hates me now!"

"Wait. Back up," Ratchet was suddenly alert, "He told you not to feed him? ... You had to FEED him? When was this?"

Sideswipe looked up, "When I found him bleeding out in our washroom," he said, "I was worried that he was losing too much Energon, so I fed him some of mine, but he tried not to drink it..."

Ratchet looked appalled, "That just confirms all my suspicions! ... Frag. Now it all makes sense! He was refusing food. He asked for his seats to be removed. It looks like he either hacked off his spoiler and other paraphernalia off himself, or got someone other than us to do it, as it was done in a quite amateurish way." He gently rested one hand on the gashes and cuts from where Sunstreaker's spoiler used to be, "I do believe I'll have to coin a new term for this. I've never seen it before."

Wheeljack hesitated, scanning his data banks, "I think he may be anorexic," he suggested, "At least, that's the human word for it, I'm less sure about our application of the word."

"As I said, we'll need to come up with a new term for it. I'm not at my most imaginative today..." Ratchet mentally kicked himself for joking about in such a serious situation, "... anorexia transformerosa...?"

"Right now, what Sunstreaker really needs is to be fully repaired," Wheeljack walked over, "Also, I don't think he'll want to start eating just because we're aware. We'll have to keep our optics on him."

"Yes." Ratchet let his hands rest on his hips now, "However. We can't just let him starve. That's just wrong and obviously unhealthy. Just look at him."

"I'm looking," Wheeljack agreed, "But the last thing we want to do is force him to eat. Right now his biggest stumbling block is his feelings of inadequacy."

"We don't know the source," Ratchet cut in as if Sideswipe suddenly wasn't there, "And we won't, not if we don't ask him straight."

"It'll be difficult to ask him when he's in stasis lock," Wheeljack sighed. He shook his head, and patted Sunstreaker on the forehead, before leaving the medbay.

Ratchet shot Wheeljack's back a sour look, then turned to Sideswipe, speaking gently to the red twin, "Sideswipe. What do you want to do?"

Sideswipe looked up at Sunstreaker again, then rested his head in his hands, "I don't want him to hurt," he said, "These... problems, you talk about... well, they sound awful. And I know you're saying it's not my fault, but I feel like if I'd been watching closer..."

"Drop it," Ratchet said sharply, "it is not your fault. It's nobody's fault, just like I said earlier."

"He's my brother," Sideswipe spoke up, "I don't want him to hurt, that's all..." he stood up, walking over to Sunstreaker, who was lying all too still on the table. Taking his brother's limp hands, Sideswipe gave a choking sob and leant forward, kissing him on the forehead. Ratchet could hear him whispering gently, "Please, Sunny... please don't leave me... I do love you..."

Ratchet saw Sideswipe out before returning to the berth. He ran a quick check over the yellow mech, shook his head, sighed, and simply stared.

What to do?

~~~

Harley: Yep, people are finally noticing, but that’s not stopping problems from happening. And it’s going to get worse.

Red Alert: We’re going to sort out the difficulties, and continue with the fanfic.
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