#spark problems

It was not that thick mouthed fear that would grit its teeth and snarl, slam down and keep its ground. Burn the fear to create a deep seated barrier because there were things worth using the bone rattling feeling for.

No she was locked tight, joints dipped in that flavor of fear she hated with a passion. It hurt, banged against her chest in a thrum that would skip and stutter. Sending rockings of agony as though her plating would come apart. Deep within herself she sputtered, shockwaves of that choking pain not even able to escape her as a scream. 

No. Her joints in her jaw had been dipped and frozen so she could not even alert the air around her of the way she had fallen. Balance lost as the panic had spread so deep, so quickly. A disease or infection that had attacked her at that slam. That loud echoing noise that resembled gunfire, she had heard it in halls before. Felt a shot rattle through her and shake her insides. That was a long time ago she had whispered within her mind, even as the second paint can dropped from her hand and slammed to the ground when she lost her grip.

Her spark had jumped, her limbs had half locked. Legs becoming useless beneath her she fell. Crashing down and only having mere seconds before the pain of her panicking heart locked her tight in the embrace of fear. Only having enough time to curl defensively forward for the split second she unlocked when the pain in her chest dulled moments later, before snapping sharply and raggedly tight again. So she sat stiff and coiled tight, spark screaming as it strained to contain itself and calm. Over stressed and weak as it already was, the fear was too much. 

Fear of tall shadows, bloody handed mechs, thick weaponry. Mechs who she had watched and helped crafted the battles for. Mechs that spoke loudly, mechs who would look at her and see every crevice. Optics predatory enough and alien in their brutality her limbs would stutter. Transports with the head Tech, watching from the loading ramp, those soldiers she would only see as numbers on her desk to be calculated for battle movements and fronts, shoot political prisoners. The exploding gore so brilliant in its grotesqueness in the setting sun.

A spray of pink, metal twisting as it was blown apart. Mechs screaming, echoing and challenging the restraints that held them down. As the sparkless frame fell limply to the ground. Jumping and twitching almost demonically in the dirt. Later Ebbin would know as she was welded together not for the last or first time by the Decepticon medics, that the display was from left over signals and pumping insides still loaded with energy. Since they had hit the mechs Helms. Not their chests. 

Ebbinwane had been one of the minds behind the taking of said base, of that fortress. She and her fellow strategists had been taken from their dark rooms and mathematics to leave the compound. Security measures. Ebbin had tried to never leave her safe dark desk after she had been moved there. Too much danger beyond it.

She would never have known those few numbers left from her equations would be dragged out to be killed as the forces flocked. If she had not been last to be dragged on the transport, she would never had seen the display. 

Thats what had caused a major attack then, her spark screaming from shock and fear. Because it became once again painfully real that her math and board games were people, that those pieces held weapons and walked beside her. In that crypt of a ship her spark cried and screamed because those weapons and monsters surrounded her. She had been afraid, and could not scream then.

Even now within the supply closet, busted paint cans seeping past their confines onto the floor, she could not do more than suffer in silence. Optics dimming and flaring bright white blue she struggled to breathe, images of every other nightmare she witnessed flashing past. The panic grew when the pain did not ease, and like a snake sinking its teeth into its own tail. Panic fed panic.

Her body grew impossibly tighter. Like an over twisted cable, joints aching and wishing to spasm against the strain. But her frame ignored her, primal fear of incoming pain and consequences keeping her still. The feeling of pain so intense, or pain at all so alien her body had only one response, freeze. 

No further movement could be made as her chest grew hot, pain feeding fear.

Mind numbing the shocks did not stop, it wrenched through her so hard her frozen body quaked. Breathing clogged, her optics seized and focused on the slowly growing puddle of thick paint. Hunched and so very small Ebbinwane suffered in complete silence. Save for her rattling plates, thin and rounded. A representation of the bot and where she came from.

She could not flinch from the much louder crash that resounded from the doorway, not even look up to see what stepped so heavily and had a voice so deep. No she could only stare at that paint, watch its glossy surface ripple. Her hearing must have become staticky, because she could make out the deep rumble of a voice. But words slurred and stuck, overwhelmed as her spark twisted. Sending a wave of heat that made a slow whine finally escape her throat.

The paint was overshadowed now, a darker shade as she felt a slight brush of the air shifting. Ever so softly she felt a slight touch on her shoulder, rough and catching on her paint. The voice as it rumbled kept her frame from trying to tighten any farther, it actually began to slowly begin to unwind it. Touches that eased, a thick blue splash of plating that spread the paint out of her view. Ebbin, stiff as a board, stared unblinkingly downward as Powercase moved to cradle the much smaller mech against himself.

The guardian was large, thick shoulders and heavily armored. But was infinitely gentle as he wrapped an arm over the servant’s painfully tense frame. Powercase continued to talk, his drawl soothing as he tried to slowly calm Ebbinwane. Reassurances firm even as his nerves bristled with tension. 

“Its ok Doll, m’ here. I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner, just breath for me. That's it, that's my girl just breath.”

 He rubbed slow circles into her side and pressed her close as he listened to the slowly calming hum of her spark. He frowned deeply, trying his best to temper down an anger at every odd frequency he could hear coming from her pain filled frame.

Not anger at her, not ever at her it seemed. Powercase had a while ago found the rage at his own inability to keep her safe from her own spark. He hated this, hated that she couldn’t fight it and had to sit and wait for the fit to pass. He hated that he couldn't fight it for her, keep her safe. Could only hope she could hear him and slowly come out of it. If all he could do was comfort her, make it stop faster. Then he would. Everytime. That firm thought would keep him up later, have him staring at the ceiling as he did so many nights. 

But right now he could only frown and hug her close as her spark sluggishly returned to that hum. That frequency only her’s hit, that he knew. Powercase clenched his jaw tightly when her body finally gave her up. Let her loose. Ebbin sobbed, slumping and curling inward as her joints raggedly let go. Powercase without a moment to spare caught her exhausted frame against his own, letting her cry hard into his chest. Powercase only felt his engine growl lowly as her hushed soft voice choked out an apology.

“Im sorry- Im so sorry-” she fell into another hard pained whine as she shifted slightly, her joints screaming from all the time locked. Powercase released a breath, pressing his face softly against her rounded helm. He felt a deep sadness and agonized squeeze of his spark at her trembling hands, at her pained breaths. 

“Never apologize Doll, ‘m here remember?”

Taking up a good portion of the supply room floor, the shaken servant pressed into the guardian as the aftershocks of her fit rolled on. He manoeuvred himself so she was firmly hidden from the door and against him, keeping an arm around her as she pressed her face into his side.