AUDIO;

[forcowardice]

Okay, haha, joke's on Fulcrum. It's hilarious, really.

But seriously, I'd like to know where my stuff is. Y'know, what few belongings I have in this place anyway.

My flat's suddenly looking more vacant than usual. So, whoever's playing this little prank, you got me. You got me good. I applaud you. Now give it back.

Comments

[forcowardice]

[He can't remember anyone ever comforting him. You're rigid, strong, and unyielding in the Decepticon military; you take care of yourself. You don't buckle, you don't cry, you don't stop to help someone if they can't help themselves. You're a cog and if you don't work, you can be exchanged for something better.

You don't cry.

Fulcrum can't fathom the comfort he's being given, but he takes it readily. Maybe if he could recall the memories of the friends he supposedly has, things would be different. But he has nothing, as far as he knows, to base anything off of. He leans his negligible weight against Ratchet, making miserable sounds and feeling his optics burn hot with flits of light as he sobs.

He already knew, but this solidifies it. The Autobots, individually, aren't all bad. Maybe he really can trust him.

It's stupid, but he feels like he still needs to make an excuse for himself.]

I-- I'm sorry. Hell, I don't... I don't know what overcame me. [He still sounds weak and his voice trembles and Fulcrum hates hearing himself, but he struggles to try to get himself back together.]

[stubbornandfrustrating]

Hey. You've had a hell of a week. Don't worry about it.

[Ratchet tightens his grip very briefly, then eases, letting Fulcrum pull back if he wants, or stay right where he is. He shakes his head a little, his hand still moving against Fulcrum's back.]

Any one of your crew would do the same for you. I'm sorry.

[forcowardice]

[He should pull away and stand on his own. Instead, Fulcrum just leans on Ratchet, focusing on cycling his vents.]

...Yeah? They would?

[Fulcrum can't help but feel dubious. It's inherent.]

[stubbornandfrustrating]

Yeah, they would. I know they would.

[Ratchet's voice is a little rough, his optics dimming.]

You'd've done the same for them, too.

[forcowardice]

I... I can't think of. Doing that. I can't think of anyone doing that for me.

I don't know what to think.

[stubbornandfrustrating]

...I know. And that's not your fault. But they care about you a lot.

[Ratchet's quiet for a moment, his hand moving absently against Fulcrum's back, and when he speaks again his voice is choked.]

I just wish you didn't have to take my word for it.