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ayngelcatTitle: Humans don't always get it right.
Universe: G1
Rating: PG
Characters: First Aid, Hook
Warnings: injury to unknown human, mech surgery, nothing very explicit or gory
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, or any of the characters or scenarios from the series within this story
Prompt: #1 Laughter is not at all a bad beginning for a friendship, and it is far the best ending for one.
Notes This is told by First Aid, set well pre-war and was really an excuse for me to start exploring First Aid's 'old flame' situation with Hook, a factor which assumes some importance in the Substitute AU and which has been something of an unknown. As usual, its hard to write about what you don't have a ckue about. I'm getting more idea now :-)
Humans don't always get it right, Part 1
The human laughed, thinly.
"Laughter is not at all a bad beginning for a friendship, and it is far the best ending for one,” she whispered, her voice thin and garbled as blood oozed from the corner of her mouth. “Do you not think so, First Aid? I think we could be friends, she said. The guy who wrote this, he's very famous, he wrote a lot of famous and true things …”
"It's very lovely," I said. "And very true. Rest now. The doctors will be with you shortly.”
“Thank you …” Her eyelids closed and I moved hastily on to my next charge.
To be honest, I did not want to stay too long or think too deeply on what she said. The human was one of those pale, frail types who weren't uncommon, the sort hallmarked for an even shorter life expectation than their already lamentably short one. And this one’s would be shorter still; I was sure she would not survive long enough for us even to have a friendship. I did not see that considering how it would start or finish could be helpful.
I wanted only to make her comfortable, to see that the human doctors were aware of her existence in addition to the twenty or so other victims of the building collapse who filled the ward next door; And so, I gave her words little more thought.
It was only later, as I lay on my berth contemplating once again the rueful state of having to try and save creatures so easily destroyed, that the words came back to me and I thought, not of humans, but of other equally disquieting things.
...........
The first time I ever met Hook, he laughed at me.
It was about the fourth milennia before the war and I had finally, finally, made it as a surgical intern.
Of course, I was never cut out to be a surgeon. I lacked the cold technical precision which the geniuses of surgery seem to possess. My forte was, I was to find out, in healing the sick, in curing disease. I was not without value in the world of surgery, but it was in making mechs better afterwards, preventing problems and ensuring their recovery. Never in performing heroic incisions and fusions which would save their lives.
In those days, however, I liked to think otherwise. And that day, as I stood over the unconscious form at Kaon General Hospital, and several jagged wounds, tangled, mangled circuitry and broken energon conduits from some pit fight in the Blocks stared up at me; as I checked the instrument trolley, ready to put my mostly self taught study of scalpels and saws and clamps and staples into practice, I was convinced that with the right guidance, I could make it.
For this was not just any old internship. Oh no. I had managed to land myself with Hook. And, at that time, there was no better surgeon. That’s not to say there weren’t others skilled in their own way - like Ratchet, a master at assessing casualties and performing on the spot procedures and Wheeljack, already an eminent technician. But for sheer innovative surgical technique, for finding daring methods of repair and cure that none would even have thought and performing them with the utmost precision, no mech – in my view – ever even came close to Hook.
So there I stood, waiting for the great mech, as he doused himself under the sterilizer, and then the drier, trying to keep under control my circuits, which fairly fritzed in anticipation. An anticipation which I told myself, only arose from excitement at his professional abilities and the prospect of my own future career - and not at all from certain ‘other’ qualities which femmes tittered about in the rec rooms.
He emerged, striding across to the table. And he was all gleaming green metal, his tall thin form moving with the litheness of a cybercat; and I knew then that the tittering femmes were justified, and that there were, indeed, other reasons why I might have sought this internship. Well how could there not be, when he was not only brilliant but looked like that?
And now, I felt stupid, terrified of looking hopelessly like some infatuated mechalescent. Was this what it was really about? Surely every intern who set foot in here thought like this! No - I must focus on the career angle which was, after all, what I was here for! With this in mind, I looked determinedly down at the patient’s gaping wounds which were, I now realized, a lot worse than I had previously realized but which the 'master' was about to make as good as new.
He was opposite me, bending over the patient. "Your name?" The question was addressed to me, his voice was so smooth, so cultured for one who I knew had beginnings in the worst suburbs of Kaon. Beautifully crafted surgeons fingers ghosted over the patient, lightly exploring the wounds, assessing the damage. Those fingers, which could fix anything! I kept my hands clasped to my chest and swallowed hard, determined to present the most professional image I could muster.
"I'm - First Aid."
Hook gave a short laugh. “Another newbie,” he mused, digging deeper into the main chest wound and picking up a handful of circuitry. “I wonder how long you will last!” he examined the tangle of wires and nodes, an immensely complex tangle – from an equally immensely complex are of the mech’s anatomy; yet Hook sifted through it as though every part was completely recognizable. “You’ve heard of my reputation, I’m sure,” he said. “And that my methods can be somewhat - radical? And my manner – well – some seem to find it rather - offputting.”
He found a thicker looking wire which seemed to be what he was looking for, and snapped it. Apparently, it was the main attachment for the rest. Hauling the tangle out, he tossed it on a tray to one side.
I could not help it. A little shudder ran through me. To have that amount of chest circuitry removed in one go! I looked down. He was still going through the mech, pulling out bits here and there, clamping the odd leaking conduit. More circuitry joined the rest on the tray.
“I hate unnecessary components,” he said. “We can put together something far simpler and much more useful.”
Now, I recalled things other mechs had said. That some patients didn’t make it, not because they couldn’t be fixed, but because Hook pushed the envelope, believing that to do so and to sacrifice a few would lead to greater knowledge and the fixing of the many. And a little voice told me I had made a mistake, that I should be reeling at what an appalling travesty of the profession I was going into this was. But I was not at all put off! On the contrary, I thought it thrilling – courageous – and it me more keen to be a great student, to absorb, to learn, to maybe even be considered his – colleague?
“I think we can start.” His smooth voice again. And I realized he had withdrawn his hands and rested them on an intact part of the mech’s surface. “But first, look at me!"
Slowly, I raised my head, and found myself looking straight into his optics, which burned like coals in his face which was not good looking but, now I saw it up close, angular and so very, very striking.
At that moment something passed, something more than my standing there as a student. And a thrill went through me – yet I was filled with dread. For surely, what I saw was a recognition that - like the others - I wasn’t up to it, wasn’t the right stuff. He had seen my reaction! And after all, I hadn’t had the education afforded to the students from Iacon and the Towers, did not get the grades they did. Surely only the very best would prevail in here?
No - I was about to get my marching orders, be told that obviously I didn’t ‘measure up.’
And my spark sank. It was soo not what I wanted! “I … don’t have any experience,” I stammered. “And I’m not the dux of the class. But ..." I steeled myself, and looked straight at him. "I promise to give you my full co-operation. You’ve no idea how much I admire your work! If you’ll keep me on, I promise to be the most attentive student you ever had!”
His gaze was fiercely upon me for a moment more; I tensed, but then - he laughed, his optics suddenly sparkling with the strangely irresistible mirth which still haunts me, maybe because from him, it is what you would least expect.
“Well First Aid, I noted your reactions just then, and to be honest I had a moment of doubt,” he chuckled turning to the trolley behind him and seizing a retractor, which he then proceeded to insert into the wound and then wind, drawing the edges further apart. “But I like your attitude. Most of the medic students from Iacon they send in here are the most arrogant specimens imaginable – they’re disappointed when I don't just step aide and let them do the op!” He paused, grinning at me. “That’s why a little lesson in – humility – is often in order.”
The winding recommenced. “ Whereas you – you already have a good grasp of this. And I like it!”
“Now,” he said. “Let’s get started, shall we? Get me the biggest laser scalpel you have on that trolley!”
.....................
Yes, he laughed at the very start. But I’m not sure if it was a good beginning. Or even a good friendship. Or, like most of my so called 'love affairs,' even a 'friendship' at all.
Humans, I have long surmised, are not always right. Even the famous ones.
Especially the famous ones.
Universe: G1
Rating: PG
Characters: First Aid, Hook
Warnings: injury to unknown human, mech surgery, nothing very explicit or gory
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, or any of the characters or scenarios from the series within this story
Prompt: #1 Laughter is not at all a bad beginning for a friendship, and it is far the best ending for one.
Notes This is told by First Aid, set well pre-war and was really an excuse for me to start exploring First Aid's 'old flame' situation with Hook, a factor which assumes some importance in the Substitute AU and which has been something of an unknown. As usual, its hard to write about what you don't have a ckue about. I'm getting more idea now :-)
Humans don't always get it right, Part 1
The human laughed, thinly.
"Laughter is not at all a bad beginning for a friendship, and it is far the best ending for one,” she whispered, her voice thin and garbled as blood oozed from the corner of her mouth. “Do you not think so, First Aid? I think we could be friends, she said. The guy who wrote this, he's very famous, he wrote a lot of famous and true things …”
"It's very lovely," I said. "And very true. Rest now. The doctors will be with you shortly.”
“Thank you …” Her eyelids closed and I moved hastily on to my next charge.
To be honest, I did not want to stay too long or think too deeply on what she said. The human was one of those pale, frail types who weren't uncommon, the sort hallmarked for an even shorter life expectation than their already lamentably short one. And this one’s would be shorter still; I was sure she would not survive long enough for us even to have a friendship. I did not see that considering how it would start or finish could be helpful.
I wanted only to make her comfortable, to see that the human doctors were aware of her existence in addition to the twenty or so other victims of the building collapse who filled the ward next door; And so, I gave her words little more thought.
It was only later, as I lay on my berth contemplating once again the rueful state of having to try and save creatures so easily destroyed, that the words came back to me and I thought, not of humans, but of other equally disquieting things.
...........
The first time I ever met Hook, he laughed at me.
It was about the fourth milennia before the war and I had finally, finally, made it as a surgical intern.
Of course, I was never cut out to be a surgeon. I lacked the cold technical precision which the geniuses of surgery seem to possess. My forte was, I was to find out, in healing the sick, in curing disease. I was not without value in the world of surgery, but it was in making mechs better afterwards, preventing problems and ensuring their recovery. Never in performing heroic incisions and fusions which would save their lives.
In those days, however, I liked to think otherwise. And that day, as I stood over the unconscious form at Kaon General Hospital, and several jagged wounds, tangled, mangled circuitry and broken energon conduits from some pit fight in the Blocks stared up at me; as I checked the instrument trolley, ready to put my mostly self taught study of scalpels and saws and clamps and staples into practice, I was convinced that with the right guidance, I could make it.
For this was not just any old internship. Oh no. I had managed to land myself with Hook. And, at that time, there was no better surgeon. That’s not to say there weren’t others skilled in their own way - like Ratchet, a master at assessing casualties and performing on the spot procedures and Wheeljack, already an eminent technician. But for sheer innovative surgical technique, for finding daring methods of repair and cure that none would even have thought and performing them with the utmost precision, no mech – in my view – ever even came close to Hook.
So there I stood, waiting for the great mech, as he doused himself under the sterilizer, and then the drier, trying to keep under control my circuits, which fairly fritzed in anticipation. An anticipation which I told myself, only arose from excitement at his professional abilities and the prospect of my own future career - and not at all from certain ‘other’ qualities which femmes tittered about in the rec rooms.
He emerged, striding across to the table. And he was all gleaming green metal, his tall thin form moving with the litheness of a cybercat; and I knew then that the tittering femmes were justified, and that there were, indeed, other reasons why I might have sought this internship. Well how could there not be, when he was not only brilliant but looked like that?
And now, I felt stupid, terrified of looking hopelessly like some infatuated mechalescent. Was this what it was really about? Surely every intern who set foot in here thought like this! No - I must focus on the career angle which was, after all, what I was here for! With this in mind, I looked determinedly down at the patient’s gaping wounds which were, I now realized, a lot worse than I had previously realized but which the 'master' was about to make as good as new.
He was opposite me, bending over the patient. "Your name?" The question was addressed to me, his voice was so smooth, so cultured for one who I knew had beginnings in the worst suburbs of Kaon. Beautifully crafted surgeons fingers ghosted over the patient, lightly exploring the wounds, assessing the damage. Those fingers, which could fix anything! I kept my hands clasped to my chest and swallowed hard, determined to present the most professional image I could muster.
"I'm - First Aid."
Hook gave a short laugh. “Another newbie,” he mused, digging deeper into the main chest wound and picking up a handful of circuitry. “I wonder how long you will last!” he examined the tangle of wires and nodes, an immensely complex tangle – from an equally immensely complex are of the mech’s anatomy; yet Hook sifted through it as though every part was completely recognizable. “You’ve heard of my reputation, I’m sure,” he said. “And that my methods can be somewhat - radical? And my manner – well – some seem to find it rather - offputting.”
He found a thicker looking wire which seemed to be what he was looking for, and snapped it. Apparently, it was the main attachment for the rest. Hauling the tangle out, he tossed it on a tray to one side.
I could not help it. A little shudder ran through me. To have that amount of chest circuitry removed in one go! I looked down. He was still going through the mech, pulling out bits here and there, clamping the odd leaking conduit. More circuitry joined the rest on the tray.
“I hate unnecessary components,” he said. “We can put together something far simpler and much more useful.”
Now, I recalled things other mechs had said. That some patients didn’t make it, not because they couldn’t be fixed, but because Hook pushed the envelope, believing that to do so and to sacrifice a few would lead to greater knowledge and the fixing of the many. And a little voice told me I had made a mistake, that I should be reeling at what an appalling travesty of the profession I was going into this was. But I was not at all put off! On the contrary, I thought it thrilling – courageous – and it me more keen to be a great student, to absorb, to learn, to maybe even be considered his – colleague?
“I think we can start.” His smooth voice again. And I realized he had withdrawn his hands and rested them on an intact part of the mech’s surface. “But first, look at me!"
Slowly, I raised my head, and found myself looking straight into his optics, which burned like coals in his face which was not good looking but, now I saw it up close, angular and so very, very striking.
At that moment something passed, something more than my standing there as a student. And a thrill went through me – yet I was filled with dread. For surely, what I saw was a recognition that - like the others - I wasn’t up to it, wasn’t the right stuff. He had seen my reaction! And after all, I hadn’t had the education afforded to the students from Iacon and the Towers, did not get the grades they did. Surely only the very best would prevail in here?
No - I was about to get my marching orders, be told that obviously I didn’t ‘measure up.’
And my spark sank. It was soo not what I wanted! “I … don’t have any experience,” I stammered. “And I’m not the dux of the class. But ..." I steeled myself, and looked straight at him. "I promise to give you my full co-operation. You’ve no idea how much I admire your work! If you’ll keep me on, I promise to be the most attentive student you ever had!”
His gaze was fiercely upon me for a moment more; I tensed, but then - he laughed, his optics suddenly sparkling with the strangely irresistible mirth which still haunts me, maybe because from him, it is what you would least expect.
“Well First Aid, I noted your reactions just then, and to be honest I had a moment of doubt,” he chuckled turning to the trolley behind him and seizing a retractor, which he then proceeded to insert into the wound and then wind, drawing the edges further apart. “But I like your attitude. Most of the medic students from Iacon they send in here are the most arrogant specimens imaginable – they’re disappointed when I don't just step aide and let them do the op!” He paused, grinning at me. “That’s why a little lesson in – humility – is often in order.”
The winding recommenced. “ Whereas you – you already have a good grasp of this. And I like it!”
“Now,” he said. “Let’s get started, shall we? Get me the biggest laser scalpel you have on that trolley!”
.....................
Yes, he laughed at the very start. But I’m not sure if it was a good beginning. Or even a good friendship. Or, like most of my so called 'love affairs,' even a 'friendship' at all.
Humans, I have long surmised, are not always right. Even the famous ones.
Especially the famous ones.
