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She was humming as she went about cataloging their medical supplies and updating a few files from her own patients. Anything she could do to make the lives of the other medics around her easier. Each of them she was sure had a certain amount of patients that preferred them over other medics. She didn't mind that at all, and with new sparklings on the base her life felt like it had a real purpose again. It had been so long since she'd been able to really dedicate herself towards her primary function, even if those sparklings weren't her personal patients at least she knew they were there. It lightened her spark to see their bright little optics and hearing the sounds of little voices and chattering.
The seafoam colored femme shifted her doorwings just slightly, sending along some random data burst so that it would reach whoever it was meant to go to. Really, she needed to recalibrate her doorwings again so they'd stop grabbing random transmissions like that.
Blizzard spent a little more time tidying up and cleaning the bay until she'd done everything she could do. So she grabbed up one of her datapads and started working on another set of information files for her own research.
Dylan really hoped no one was in right now, so he could just do this himself.
It may have been a strong sting of irony to hear that Dylan hated seeing a doctor. His foster father was a medic. His foster brother was a medic. But Dylan hated being in doctors offices when the spotlight was on him. So when he’d decided to go out to a skate park with friends after school, he’d of course had to gotten himself scraped up. Which meant Pharma would freak, if Ratchet didn’t. And that would mean a doctors appoitment, which he hadn’t had in forever and that sure as heck wasn’t changing now.
So he’d carefully slid inside the med bay, backpack and all. Of course, he quickly caught sight of Blizzard, which caused him to sprint away. He didn’t know the femme well, but as another medic, he’d seen her around. And she’d no doubt sell him out. And nope. Nope. NOPE.
He squinted his eyes a bit as he looked for where the human supplies were hidden. He groaned, walking hurt a bit from his skidded knees but really he could get over it. He could patch his own dang self up thank you. “Come on Logan, you’ve done much worse,” he grumbled as he continued to sneak toward where he was pretty sure they kept those supplies.
Hopefully he was sneaky enough - because James Bond he was not.
She heard the bay doors open with a soft whoosh, but didn't see anyone walk in. For a confused moment she thought maybe someone was playing with the doors, but then she noted little footsteps and her scanners detected an organic lifeform on the other side of the bay. She had company. Fantastic. Blizzard set her datapad down and walked over to where the boy was looking for something. Kneeling, and with doorwings splayed down behind her to seem non-threatening, she tipped her head at him. "May I help you with something?"
She knew who he was, of course, she looked over all the human allies' charts. This was Dylan, adopted into the Autobots by Pharma and by extension sibling to Ratchet. Two of the most protective beings on the base, and she wondered why he hadn't gone for them if he was looking to visit. "Are you looking for Ratchet? Pharma perhaps? I can comm them for you, save you a bit of time." And then her scanners came back with the indication that he was damaged. His human 'armor' was breeched at the knee joints, and he seemed to be leaking fluids. So had he come to see a medic, only to find one he didn't know or trust there to attend him?
"May I assist you?" Or perhaps he was at that stage where younglings liked to do things for themselves? It was hard to judge with a human. "Or perhaps provide you with the means to help yourself? Whichever would make this more comfortable for you."
Dylan yelped nearly dropping his skateboard at the voice.
Of course she noticed him. Why were medics so good at this stuff? Or maybe he was just getting completely predictable. Probably the latter, he figured. He had a reputation for pulling stunts he gathered. God knew he was in the med bay too often for the longest time with Ratchet yelling at him for being an idiot. “Oh uh, hey,” Dylan tried to offer in a friendly manner. “Sorry to interrupt. I uh, ain’t looking for either, actually just want to get these scrapes cleaned up before they notice. They’re both going to flip if they find out I went grinding on a-.” He paused. “Well let’s just say it won’t be pretty.”
He looked at her with his hands on his hips. At least she was being helpful. “Yeah, I think I can clean up my scrapes. Don’t take it personally. I haven’t even done a check-up in forever. I’m not good with the whole “doctor” thing,” and he could list the reasons: old scars, weird hands on his body, and frankly just a lot of other reminders. “I know it sounds silly since uh... My family and all. But ehhh...”
Her head quirked again. "You are not interrupting me at all, youngling. I can understand your reluctance to worry your family with some minor injury as this. So might I move you to a higher surface where the light is better while I bring you what you need to tend yourself?" She'd already scanned him and decided she'd give him a light antibiotic just in case the wounds got infected from the impact.
Once he was situated either way Blizzard would busy herself with gathering the necessary materials for the youngling to attend himself. Sterile gauze, several sizes of bandage in case he felt the gauze and wrap were unnessary, some hydrogen peroxide, and several other items just in case. Like tweasers. If she thought there was any way inside the wound she'd have told his creator what was going on. She was still telling them, and logging it into his medical file. After all, he hadn't asked her not to tell them.
It worried her that he hadn't had a check-up, but she remembered from her days in Iacon that sometimes you couldn't push a traumatized youngling. When he felt safe enough he'd seek out his own medical care. Or Pharma would attend him. Or Ratchet. She wasn't going to push him on the matter. She didn't want to add to his trauma, regardless of the reason. It wasn't a life threatening injury. "I understand you're discomfort and respect it. I am content to provide you with the means to attend yourself and trust that you know when you need help." She stayed nearby, watching him quietly. "Its not silly at all Dylan." She didn't go further than that. "Please just let me know if you require anything else." She'd plopped antibiotics in the pile of supplies for the youngling human. "And humor an old Autobot and take those for a week, just to keep an infection from setting in."
Dylan relaxed, ok so she was definitely cool. Thank God. Because he could name four or five mechs or femmes who’d flip out. He guessed it now came with the territory. They were moving toward an official adoption and he’d probanly ceased being just one of the four kid allies. Now he imagined he was “Pharma’s kid”, “that one human”, or maybe even “Ratchet’s brother” really. “Sure uh, that’d be fine.” He replied as she offered.
He was a little surprised by everything she brought to. Dang this femme was thorough. He had to give her that, and honestly that was good. Because it meant he was more inclined to trust her. Taking hold of some of th stuff, he began going over how to dress it. He’d seen the others do it dozens of times by now but he had to think it through.
Finally he managed a: “Thanks.” Though.
For a moment he realized he hadn’t even introduced himself. And considering they’d never actually met he was probably being a bit rude. “Sorry, by the way. Should probably introduce myself properly, I’m uh, Dylan,” he explained with a smirk. “You’re uh... Blizzard, right? I’ve send you around a couple of times. But usually I’m pretty busy bugging Ratchet for kicks when I’m in here.” He snorted.
She would wait to see if he asked for her help, let him set the pace for how their interaction went. That way, the next time he needed help, perhaps he'd come back to her. If he wanted direction to attend himself she'd give it, if not she'd watch him take care of it in his own way. It made her anxious not to be doing it for him, but with mistreated younglings this was the absolute best way.
Her doorwings went up and shifted happily as he told her his designation. It pleased her so much to have even that small thing offered willingly. "You are correct. Autobot medic Blizzard, at your service." She angled her frame down a little bit so that she wasn't towering over him any longer. "I've heard of you, and the other human children. I admit that I don't know much about humans and their habits, so please feel free to correct me if I do something wrong." Within reason. She did have internet access and the will to do her own research if she thought for a moment he was trying to trick her.
Blizzard backed away then and went to fetch something, coming back with a small sucker for the youngling. "For you." She offered the sweet.
Dylan definitely appreciated that she wasn't crowding him as he started to carefully dress his wound. Maybe she'd heard through the grapevine that he'd been abused and assumed his reasoning - or maybe Pharma and Ratchet warned people of this anyway. He winced a little as he started to wrap it up - but tried to keep himself calm.
A part of him also knew he'd bruised his rib. But he'd do that in closed quarters. No one saw his back - NO ONE.
He nodded along as she spoke, seemingly understanding it at least a bit. "Yeah, I think a lot of people know who I am now. It used to be I mostly stuck with Ratchet or Bee. But now I'm around you guys all the time so I'm uh... Trying to socialize better?" he explained, honestly, that was hard for him due to his trust issues. "Not that I don't like you guys. It was just a little overwhelming when more of you guys started showing up. I was so used to it just being Prime's team for a while."
When she came back with the sucker, Dylan smirked. OK, he could say he was too young for this on one hand. But on the other who passed up free candy? So he took it, and popped it in. "Thanks," he paused a moment. "So what kind of medicine do you do? Because you're striking me as the pediatrician type."
She had to intervene. She'd wanted to let him realize he didn't know exactly what he was doing, but as he started wrapping the raw injury she had to speak. "Might I make a suggestion?" She stood back from him, letting him realize she wasn't going to take over his personal care so much as offer her medical advise on the matter. "It will hurt much less, and heal much faster if you clean it first. It'll sting, but an infection setting in would hurt much worse." The swelling aside, the would would hold heat and hurt much worse than the initial cause of the injury itself. She'd seen it happen before. Injuries attended improperly festered and a heat to the systems could be fatal to her kind. She didn't yet know if that was true of humans as well, but she was slowly combing through medical texts to familiarize herself with their care. As a proper medic should, she adapted to any potential patients.
She let him keep the sucker, scanning him subtly again and worrying that his internal injuries may need more immediate care. It didn't seem life threatening, and a check of a medical journal said it shouldn't normally be, unless he presented with compromised breathing. Then there was the chance the rib had punctured a lung. Again, she'd report to Ratchet on the entire matter. For now she had the youngling in front of her and he needed her attention. Perhaps more than he realized, and she wondered how long it had been since someone had given him this much choice in how he handled himself.
"You're welcome." Her tone was very soft, much lighter than what she used for her adult patients. And when he asked her what sort of medicine she practiced her features lit up, doorwings perking straight up and fanning out to display perfectly. "My primary function is to see to the care of carriers and their sparklings from conception unto the passing from youngling into adulthood. I've specialized in their care as well as learned how to deal with spark related issues regarding to them."
She had to shake her head and realize he might not understand. "I deal with expectant parents and their young. So more of an OBGYN and pediatrician combined."
Dylan felt his cheeks flush read, dang he should have thought of that. He was the son and brother of a doctor dang it. He slowly began to take her advice cleaning it despite the stinging. He carefully began to do the same for his rib. Luckily he had broken a rib when he was younger (and one could guess how) , and it didn’t feel like that. “Yeah shoulda thought of that,” he then added. “Thankfully I think this is the worst of it. And even then I’ve gone through way worse. I uh... Had stuff happen as a kid.” He decided to leave it at that. “Plus I skate a lot so it’s par for the course sometimes.”
Dylan listened carefully to what she had to say about her practice. Dang, so she really knew what she was doing big time. Here he’d imagine she’d probably be a world renowned doctor in the medical field to know that much. “Whoa! That’s pretty impressive. I mean, I can’t imaigne even beginning to do stuff like that. I’m still trying to figure the whole carrier thing out at all,” he then noted. “But if that makes you my pediatrician now expect to take me to check-ups kicking and screaming. Just warning you now. My last two called me a hellion.”
He smacked his lips on the sucker as if for emphasis. “Though to be honest you at least seen a lot less intimidating than those slaggers.”
She didn't point out his embarassment that he'd forgotten his process, and didn't mention it again. She let him use the information as though he knew what he needed and had just needed a bit of prompting to manage things for himself. She did check his work and smile in approval once it was clean and patched. She had to assume he knew to change out the bandages everyday at least until it stopped bleeding. And turned her attention to his hobby. "Might I suggest, to prevent a repeat of this performance, that you invest in some pads to protect your joints?" She knew his caregivers would find a way to provide them if he asked and couldn't do so for himself. "It would prevent having to repeat this so often in the future. Spare you the stress."
His admission that something had happened when he was a sparkling made her feel a deep sense of hatred to whoever had done him harm. "As a medic that deals primarily with your age group I have to say I won't say that I'm sorry. You don't need my pity, but I will say without any doubt that there is no way that anyone will let it happen again. I wish the Autobots had found you sooner, but we cannot change the past. Instead, we can do what we can to make sure your future is filled with better memories."
She vented loudly and pulled back the rage that had filled her slender frame as he indicated to a very traumatizing event in his life. She let him change the subject. "We'll see how it all goes. If you don't want me to touch you, then I will respect that. However, if your life is ever in immenant danger I will not hesitate to provide whatever care I can to the very best of my ability. Only if your father or Ratchet aren't available. If I can, young Dylan, I'll get you to those you trust." If he was about to die she was going to save him though, no questions asked.
His cursing made her frown. "If you are under majority please don't curse in my presence."
Dylan looked thoughtful at her, she was probably right after all. Truth was, Dylan wasn’t used to his caretakers caring as much as Pharma did so he didn’t think about it. Before he’d just been happy when one of the nicer families had gotten him a skateboard one Christmas. He’d lesrned it was better to not question kindness. “Yeah, I suppose I should be asking about that. I’m uh... Not used to it is all,” he explained. “If anything I probably should do it to save the headache.”
Oh good, she was one of those people. Dylan didn’t much care for people who would be “poor you” or the like. He appreciated the sympathy but he also rose above his past. Some days better than other others, but he did not, and would not let it define him. “Thanks. Yeah, I always feel that way too. Being around you guys have been some of the best days of my life. War and all,” he then added. “It’s kinda weird but you’ve all given me hope that not everyone in this universe is messed up. You guys sometimes show more compassion than most humans - which still shocks me.”
Dylan nodded that was at least a good thing. He could deal with a pediatrician with that attitude at least, work with her. “Now that’s a style I can work with. But yeah, if I’m in danger I don’t blame you there,” he then added. “Plus not gonna lie candy can get me to agree to just about anything.”
Wait, cursing? Wow, ha she just used Cybertronian slang? It took him a minute to register he had. “Whoa, sorry. I uh... That must have just come out,” he looked dumbfounded. “Dang you guys are already rubbing off on me. Usually I use my own human slang.” He laughed a little. “But seriously won’t happen again.”
She took a slow breath and let it ease out of her vents. Perhaps there was the chance of this little youngling trusting her eventually after all. She had literal eons of experience dealing with younglings just like him, those that had been hurt and betrayed by the world and just needed someone to care. To remove them from that toxic environment and turn their life for the better. She'd been that 'bot a few times over the years, and with this youngling she'd make sure he found a care physician he could trust to at least provide him with the means to care for himself. Sparkling steps.
"It would perhaps also mean less worry from your creator when you aren't around. Creators worry, its what they do. Even brought into a family unit the creator worries. A good creator will provide what you need, worry about you while you are away, and always be happy when you come home." And she believed, with Pharma, that was true. She hadn't seen them together yet, except for in passing, but she was familiar enough with his personality to believe it without seeing.
Blizzard smiled when he admitted that being with her people had been good for him. "I am glad you've found that. Everyone needs to have something to believe in, to provide hope." She vented again and leaned against he counter behind her, shifting her doorwings again. She was far more expressive with them than she had to be, but it usually entertained her patients back on Cybertron. Old habits.
"You are reasonable when it comes to your own health. That is enough to give you the chance to take care of things yourself if possible and provide for you when you can't." She beamed at him. "So you liked the treat? Excellent. I have a jar in my office filled with various Earth sweets, but I haven't the faintest idea why there's an appeal towards them.
When he realized his mistake she just shook her head. "You spend time around Ratchet, you pick up his habits. It is forgiven and forgotten. You are old enough to speak your own mind of things." And that was fine, as long as he wasn't using his foul language around her. She didn't like it.
Dylan never thought of it that way. Did Pharma really worry about him? He never thought about that. Really he’d never actually worried someone before to his knowledge. Even when he had been asked to be adopted before - they’d sent him back, and he doubted it wa because they were worried. “I guess I never thought about it that way. When you’re in foster care “worry” comes and goes,” he explained. “I’m still getting used to this lasting the last family that wanted to “adopt” me sent me back in two weeks. So I guess I still have a lot to learn.”
Wait? She had a jar of tons of candy? Oh god, his inner sweet tooth was screaming. How did he get in her office and get those candies? He’d definitely have to figure that out - soon. “I mean candy is sweet and savory. And addictive don’t you guys have anything like that?” He then added. “Like you guys have your own version of beer! How do you not have candy?”
Well he couldn’t argue with her about Ratchet. “True. He dropped about eight curse words when we first met and I tagged him.”
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altria : please dont be dead?
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