Wedge (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
loadership) wrote2020-02-22 08:38 am
loadership) wrote2020-02-22 08:38 am
My Body Knows When I Am Off The Ground
Rating: General Audiences
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: Other
Fandom: Transformers: Rescue Bots Academy (Cartoon)
Relationships: Wedge/Medix, Wedge & Medix
Characters: Wedge (Transformers), Medix (Transformers)
Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Nonbinary Character, Panic Attack, Pre-Relationship
Words: 2,530
Chapters: 1/1
Summary: After the recruits have gotten back from space, Wedge needs a little time on solid ground. Really on solid ground. Fortunately, Medix is trained in what to do in case of panic attacks. (Fic set directly post-"Flying Hunk-A-Junk," or rather between their space mission and the ending scene.)
* * *
After the Sigma had landed and they'd all filed out, none of the recruits found it particularly surprising that they were in trouble. Boulder made it clear that Wedge was excluded, and didn't lecture long, much gentler in their disappointment than Heatwave would have been. They kept it simple: They'd done something wrong, and they needed to do a little more work to make it right. Starting the very next day, the four of them would be spending an hour every day sorting through trash to separate the recyclable from the non-recyclable, and they'd be doing that for as many days as it took to get through all of it. It would, basically, be an extra "class" for them, a sort of detention, for as long as it took them to finish the task.
None of them argued against it; even Hot Shot agreed that it was deserved, and was honestly a fair punishment. And Boulder was sympathetic as they dismissed them for the night, noting that things had been stressful.
"No kidding," Hot Shot agreed as they wandered off, as a group. "Wow. I'm wiped out, but I'm not sure I'm gonna be able to sleep any time soon. Anyone wanna watch some T.V.?"
Whirl and Hoist were quick to agree, but Medix glanced around, noticing for the first time that Wedge was— not actually with the group, which was unusual. "Where is Wedge?"
They all paused. "...Huh," Hot Shot said. "That's weird."
"Yeah, Wedge doesn't usually wander off without being dismissed," Hoist agreed. "Or saying anything. Maybe he was really tired?"
"He went through a lot," Whirl noted, her rotors ticking a little concerned.
"Well, he wasn't in trouble. Maybe he just left when Professor Boulder told him that," Hot Shot suggested.
"I'll check in on him." Medix excused themself from the group as the other three headed to the common room, heading off down the hall towards their rooms instead. They all had a quite small, but private, room of their own, and they had a feeling that they would indeed find Wedge in his, whatever the reason for his leaving. It was true that he'd been through a highly stressful ordeal, but he had also had his leg physically trapped, and had been struggling against it, and there was a chance that he was in some pain — there was even a chance that the impact had jarred something out of alignment! Medix wanted to at least give him a check-up and make certain nothing was wrong.
"Wedge?" Medix knocked on the door, and was surprised when it slid open automatically, which it should not have done if Wedge had locked it at any point. They hesitated for a moment at the idea of entering without Wedge's permission, but then spotted his familiar rusty orange figure — on the floor, and they was moving inside without any further hesitation.
"Are you in pain?" Their voice was slightly urgent, but thrummed with the professional calm that they'd been trained to show when someone was hurt, which was of course their first thought. That Wedge was indeed hurt, and they circled around to his front, as his back had been to the door, he was curled up on his side on the floor as if he hadn't been able to make it to his bed, which was... concerning. More concerning was that Wedge wasn't answering, but they was watching him closely and his wheels were twitching, and he did nod his head without moving in any other way. At least he was conscious.
"My spark," he said in a tight, quiet voice, Medix barely catching the words as they knelt down in front of him, and they paused. The reason the words were harder to hear was that Wedge's fans were running loudly, his engine giving periodic urgent revs. His visor was locked over his eyes, which were shut, a look of notable fear on his face.
Oh. Not an injury, then, or at least not a physical one. Spark pain was certainly a scary symptom a lot of the time, but in this case Medix had a feeling he knew what was going on. Blades had discussed it early on, because it certainly wasn't rare in high-stress disaster situations.
"Does it feel like it's spinning and flaring?" Medix asked. "And like something terrible is going to happen?"
"Yeah," Wedge half-gasped the word, and Medix's spark went out to him, but they stayed calm.
"You're going to—" be just fine, they almost soothed, but they stumbled over it remembering their absolute fiasco with the ship's comms. They regretted lying to try to comfort him, regretted failing at hiding it even more, and changed course. "Err. Everything is all right now, Wedge. Nothing is wrong with your systems."
"How do you know that?" Wedge asked, not opening his eyes.
"I've been taught about this. You're having a panic attack." They tried to pitch their voice soothing, not sure how good they was at it but wanting to try. "Your body is reacting as if you're in a high-stakes situation, and it's making you feel as if you're in danger now. But you are not. You are at the Academy, in your own room." Wedge was still venting like he was in danger of critical system overheating, though, and Medix added, "Do you want to try to get into bed?" Moving a little could help sometimes, if the person wanted to and could manage it.
Wedge's response was quick, though. "No."
Medix paused a moment, then continued carefully, "Do you want me to stay?"
"Please."
If anything, that was even quicker, and more urgent. Wedge shifted only enough to curl in on himself a little further, the movement looking instinctive rather than really planned, and Medix stood, carefully, trying to figure out what would be most helpful. Trying to remember all their lessons.
"I'm going to lie down with you," they said quietly. "If you are comfortable with that?"
Wedge nodded, and Medix walked back around behind him again, first sitting down on the floor, then shifting to lie on their own side as well, situating themself against Wedge's back and wrapping their arms around him carefully. He didn't twitch, or flinch, but he didn't lose any tension either, his engine giving another restless growl. It had been imperceptible to the eye, but Medix could feel that he was shaking slightly, holding him like this.
"Try to concentrate on your ventilation system," they said quietly. "Do you feel the way the air is circulating? The temperature in our rooms is kept at 72 degrees Fahrenheit. The air you bring in should be cool, and after it's cycled through, it will come back out stale and heated." Did they imagine the slightest degree of relaxation? He didn't answer them, either way. "Would you like me to keep talking?"
"Yeah."
"Will you try talking a little more, too?" Wedge might benefit from anchoring a little more to the present, but Medix also didn't want to force it.
"I don't know..." Wedge trailed off as if the sentence was going somewhere but he wasn't sure about it, then just left it at that, repeating more miserable, "I don't know."
"That's all right. Whenever you start to feel up to it is fine."
Wedge was quiet, then shuddered abruptly, stronger than the way he'd been trembling. "I could've—" It came out in a rush, "I almost died."
Medix felt a sudden, surprisingly sharp pain in their own spark, and closed their eyes. They knew. They knew that he had, indeed, almost died, they had done all the calculations, they had gone out there on Hoist's winch and cut away at the junk pinning Wedge's leg even as everything started to get hotter. They had not let themself think at the time about what would happen over... over the next thirty seconds, even, if they couldn't manage to cut through.
And he had almost died falling. Heights were his greatest fear! It was no surprise that he was having this reaction, he had made himself be brave at the time because countless people depended on that satellite and they had no other way to reroute the garbage ball. He had not even contributed to the problem! That had been the four of them.
That didn't bear thinking about, at least not right now. All of it flashed through Medix's mind incredibly quickly, and they didn't pause long. "You're here now. You're safe, on Earth. We all made it home. Here."
Medix took hold one of Wedge's hands from where they were curled at his chest. He didn't resist them as they guided it to the floor, encouraging him to press his palm flat on the cold metal. "You're lying on the ground," they said quietly. "And I'm lying here with you. The floor is solid and real. Try concentrating on it."
That time, they was sure they did feel Wedge relax a little. "...It's cold."
"It is," Medix agreed, encouraged and encouraging. "Describe the texture for me?"
"It's smooth, mostly." Wedge's voice was small, at first, but got a bit more certain as he curled his fingers slightly. "But there's a line here. Where the two tiles come together."
"Keep concentrating on—" Medix started to suggest, then Wedge started to roll over, and they pulled their arms from around him, surprised. He didn't roll to face them, which they'd half-expected, just onto his back and then stopped there. "Oh. Or on that."
Wedge's eyes were finally open again, and Medix thought that might be a good sign, even if he was staring up at the ceiling and his visor was still in place. "I think I want to concentrate on my back being on the ground," he said.
"That is very fair." Medix stayed lying on their side next to him, though, and didn't move as Wedge glanced over at them. They was encouraged to see that his tires weren't twitching anymore, and to hear his engine a bit quieter, though not entirely calm. "You're doing well. I'm very proud of you, Wedge."
Wedge shook his head, looking frustrated, but didn't directly argue. "Why am I so scared?"
"It will take a little longer for the panic attack to end. But it won't last much longer," Medix assured. "Just try to remember that you're safe. If you need something to concentrate on besides the floor, or your ventilation, you can try repeating that to yourself."
Wedge swallowed coolant, visibly, then reached over, fumbling for Medix's hand again. "—This helped."
"Then I will stay exactly like this."
They did, content to, though still concerned for Wedge. He seemed somewhat calmer now, but he was still venting as if running hot, and once or twice he reached up with his free hand and touched his chest and his fans kicked on even louder. Medix stroked the back of his hand with their thumb, every so often assuring him again, quietly, that he was safe and home and doing well.
"Did Professor Boulder punish you?" Wedge asked after a few minutes. He'd finally retracted his visor again, and was seeming a little more relaxed, the panic gradually releasing its tight hold on him.
"Yes, the four of us are going to be sorting trash for at least a few days," Medix explained. "An hour every day until we've gotten through a room's worth of garbage that the humans didn't bother to sort into recyclable and non-recyclable."
"There are worse punishments," he noted. "That sounds pretty important."
"And quite fair," they agreed.
"I'll help."
Medix paused, uncertain, almost flustered. "But... you are not being punished."
"No," Wedge said, "but this is something I'd want to do anyway. It's important, like I said. Besides, it'll go faster with all five of us working on it... And I like spending time with you guys." He smiled, a little. "Even on trash-sorting missions."
"I am amazed," Medix admitted. And a little humbled, honestly. After Wedge had dove straight into his own phobia to help strangers against a problem he was not responsible for and nearly died for it, after helping him through a panic attack on the floor of his room, him volunteering to join them all in their punishment as well because he knew recycling was important was... Well. Medix had wanted to help him understand he was a hero for a while now, and this really drove home to them just how true that was.
"Okay." Wedge carefully started to sit up, not relinquishing Medix's hand for the first few seconds, but then pulling his hand back to get to his feet, only a little shakily. "I think I can get up now."
"Would you like to join the group in the common room?" Medix offered as they stood as well. "I believe the rest of the team is still watching T.V. They felt they would be unable to relax enough to go directly to sleep."
"I'm pretty sure I'm going to have the same problem," Wedge said wryly. "I'd like that. Thanks, Medix." His voice went warmer, "For everything."
Medix opened their mouth to answer, then closed it again. When Wedge headed for the door, though, they caught at his arm with one hand, though their voice didn't carry quite the same urgency as the gesture did. "Just a moment." Wedge turned toward them, immediate open and receptive and attentive body language, and Medix said in a rush, "I am so sorry for alarming you! I sincerely thought that the ship's communications were muted. Both times."
Wedge blinked, then gave a quiet huff of a laugh, and reached out to pull Medix into an embrace. He held them somewhat tightly, likely because he was still shaken, but Medix returned the hug with a tight squeeze that surprised even themself. "I know you did," he said, voice a little choked up, and Medix closed their eyes. "You sounded pretty freaked out, too."
"I'd never want to frighten you like that," they said, their voice smaller than they intended.
"I know. I'm not mad at you, not about any of it. Not accidentally letting me know how bad it was, not trying to keep it from me so it wouldn't scare me." He added more lightly, weakly amused but still amused, "Not even when you stared me down while dumping that trash."
Medix groaned, lowering their forehead to Wedge's shoulder. "Oh, Primus. I did, didn't I?"
"I mean it." Wedge pulled back, and Medix lifted their head again, loosening their grip and letting their arms drop reluctantly, but Wedge immediately grabbed their hands and held them in his again. "You couldn't have known what would happen. Littering doesn't usually have that kind of immediate backlash. We were just super unlucky. And you risked your own life coming out to save me, don't think I didn't notice that."
"I couldn't just let..."
"I know." He squeezed Medix's hands, then let them go, slowly, as if reluctant himself. Medix found themself hoping that he was. "I'm lucky to have someone like you. Having my back."
"Always," Medix said, and they meant it fervently.
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: Other
Fandom: Transformers: Rescue Bots Academy (Cartoon)
Relationships: Wedge/Medix, Wedge & Medix
Characters: Wedge (Transformers), Medix (Transformers)
Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Nonbinary Character, Panic Attack, Pre-Relationship
Words: 2,530
Chapters: 1/1
Summary: After the recruits have gotten back from space, Wedge needs a little time on solid ground. Really on solid ground. Fortunately, Medix is trained in what to do in case of panic attacks. (Fic set directly post-"Flying Hunk-A-Junk," or rather between their space mission and the ending scene.)
After the Sigma had landed and they'd all filed out, none of the recruits found it particularly surprising that they were in trouble. Boulder made it clear that Wedge was excluded, and didn't lecture long, much gentler in their disappointment than Heatwave would have been. They kept it simple: They'd done something wrong, and they needed to do a little more work to make it right. Starting the very next day, the four of them would be spending an hour every day sorting through trash to separate the recyclable from the non-recyclable, and they'd be doing that for as many days as it took to get through all of it. It would, basically, be an extra "class" for them, a sort of detention, for as long as it took them to finish the task.
None of them argued against it; even Hot Shot agreed that it was deserved, and was honestly a fair punishment. And Boulder was sympathetic as they dismissed them for the night, noting that things had been stressful.
"No kidding," Hot Shot agreed as they wandered off, as a group. "Wow. I'm wiped out, but I'm not sure I'm gonna be able to sleep any time soon. Anyone wanna watch some T.V.?"
Whirl and Hoist were quick to agree, but Medix glanced around, noticing for the first time that Wedge was— not actually with the group, which was unusual. "Where is Wedge?"
They all paused. "...Huh," Hot Shot said. "That's weird."
"Yeah, Wedge doesn't usually wander off without being dismissed," Hoist agreed. "Or saying anything. Maybe he was really tired?"
"He went through a lot," Whirl noted, her rotors ticking a little concerned.
"Well, he wasn't in trouble. Maybe he just left when Professor Boulder told him that," Hot Shot suggested.
"I'll check in on him." Medix excused themself from the group as the other three headed to the common room, heading off down the hall towards their rooms instead. They all had a quite small, but private, room of their own, and they had a feeling that they would indeed find Wedge in his, whatever the reason for his leaving. It was true that he'd been through a highly stressful ordeal, but he had also had his leg physically trapped, and had been struggling against it, and there was a chance that he was in some pain — there was even a chance that the impact had jarred something out of alignment! Medix wanted to at least give him a check-up and make certain nothing was wrong.
"Wedge?" Medix knocked on the door, and was surprised when it slid open automatically, which it should not have done if Wedge had locked it at any point. They hesitated for a moment at the idea of entering without Wedge's permission, but then spotted his familiar rusty orange figure — on the floor, and they was moving inside without any further hesitation.
"Are you in pain?" Their voice was slightly urgent, but thrummed with the professional calm that they'd been trained to show when someone was hurt, which was of course their first thought. That Wedge was indeed hurt, and they circled around to his front, as his back had been to the door, he was curled up on his side on the floor as if he hadn't been able to make it to his bed, which was... concerning. More concerning was that Wedge wasn't answering, but they was watching him closely and his wheels were twitching, and he did nod his head without moving in any other way. At least he was conscious.
"My spark," he said in a tight, quiet voice, Medix barely catching the words as they knelt down in front of him, and they paused. The reason the words were harder to hear was that Wedge's fans were running loudly, his engine giving periodic urgent revs. His visor was locked over his eyes, which were shut, a look of notable fear on his face.
Oh. Not an injury, then, or at least not a physical one. Spark pain was certainly a scary symptom a lot of the time, but in this case Medix had a feeling he knew what was going on. Blades had discussed it early on, because it certainly wasn't rare in high-stress disaster situations.
"Does it feel like it's spinning and flaring?" Medix asked. "And like something terrible is going to happen?"
"Yeah," Wedge half-gasped the word, and Medix's spark went out to him, but they stayed calm.
"You're going to—" be just fine, they almost soothed, but they stumbled over it remembering their absolute fiasco with the ship's comms. They regretted lying to try to comfort him, regretted failing at hiding it even more, and changed course. "Err. Everything is all right now, Wedge. Nothing is wrong with your systems."
"How do you know that?" Wedge asked, not opening his eyes.
"I've been taught about this. You're having a panic attack." They tried to pitch their voice soothing, not sure how good they was at it but wanting to try. "Your body is reacting as if you're in a high-stakes situation, and it's making you feel as if you're in danger now. But you are not. You are at the Academy, in your own room." Wedge was still venting like he was in danger of critical system overheating, though, and Medix added, "Do you want to try to get into bed?" Moving a little could help sometimes, if the person wanted to and could manage it.
Wedge's response was quick, though. "No."
Medix paused a moment, then continued carefully, "Do you want me to stay?"
"Please."
If anything, that was even quicker, and more urgent. Wedge shifted only enough to curl in on himself a little further, the movement looking instinctive rather than really planned, and Medix stood, carefully, trying to figure out what would be most helpful. Trying to remember all their lessons.
"I'm going to lie down with you," they said quietly. "If you are comfortable with that?"
Wedge nodded, and Medix walked back around behind him again, first sitting down on the floor, then shifting to lie on their own side as well, situating themself against Wedge's back and wrapping their arms around him carefully. He didn't twitch, or flinch, but he didn't lose any tension either, his engine giving another restless growl. It had been imperceptible to the eye, but Medix could feel that he was shaking slightly, holding him like this.
"Try to concentrate on your ventilation system," they said quietly. "Do you feel the way the air is circulating? The temperature in our rooms is kept at 72 degrees Fahrenheit. The air you bring in should be cool, and after it's cycled through, it will come back out stale and heated." Did they imagine the slightest degree of relaxation? He didn't answer them, either way. "Would you like me to keep talking?"
"Yeah."
"Will you try talking a little more, too?" Wedge might benefit from anchoring a little more to the present, but Medix also didn't want to force it.
"I don't know..." Wedge trailed off as if the sentence was going somewhere but he wasn't sure about it, then just left it at that, repeating more miserable, "I don't know."
"That's all right. Whenever you start to feel up to it is fine."
Wedge was quiet, then shuddered abruptly, stronger than the way he'd been trembling. "I could've—" It came out in a rush, "I almost died."
Medix felt a sudden, surprisingly sharp pain in their own spark, and closed their eyes. They knew. They knew that he had, indeed, almost died, they had done all the calculations, they had gone out there on Hoist's winch and cut away at the junk pinning Wedge's leg even as everything started to get hotter. They had not let themself think at the time about what would happen over... over the next thirty seconds, even, if they couldn't manage to cut through.
And he had almost died falling. Heights were his greatest fear! It was no surprise that he was having this reaction, he had made himself be brave at the time because countless people depended on that satellite and they had no other way to reroute the garbage ball. He had not even contributed to the problem! That had been the four of them.
That didn't bear thinking about, at least not right now. All of it flashed through Medix's mind incredibly quickly, and they didn't pause long. "You're here now. You're safe, on Earth. We all made it home. Here."
Medix took hold one of Wedge's hands from where they were curled at his chest. He didn't resist them as they guided it to the floor, encouraging him to press his palm flat on the cold metal. "You're lying on the ground," they said quietly. "And I'm lying here with you. The floor is solid and real. Try concentrating on it."
That time, they was sure they did feel Wedge relax a little. "...It's cold."
"It is," Medix agreed, encouraged and encouraging. "Describe the texture for me?"
"It's smooth, mostly." Wedge's voice was small, at first, but got a bit more certain as he curled his fingers slightly. "But there's a line here. Where the two tiles come together."
"Keep concentrating on—" Medix started to suggest, then Wedge started to roll over, and they pulled their arms from around him, surprised. He didn't roll to face them, which they'd half-expected, just onto his back and then stopped there. "Oh. Or on that."
Wedge's eyes were finally open again, and Medix thought that might be a good sign, even if he was staring up at the ceiling and his visor was still in place. "I think I want to concentrate on my back being on the ground," he said.
"That is very fair." Medix stayed lying on their side next to him, though, and didn't move as Wedge glanced over at them. They was encouraged to see that his tires weren't twitching anymore, and to hear his engine a bit quieter, though not entirely calm. "You're doing well. I'm very proud of you, Wedge."
Wedge shook his head, looking frustrated, but didn't directly argue. "Why am I so scared?"
"It will take a little longer for the panic attack to end. But it won't last much longer," Medix assured. "Just try to remember that you're safe. If you need something to concentrate on besides the floor, or your ventilation, you can try repeating that to yourself."
Wedge swallowed coolant, visibly, then reached over, fumbling for Medix's hand again. "—This helped."
"Then I will stay exactly like this."
They did, content to, though still concerned for Wedge. He seemed somewhat calmer now, but he was still venting as if running hot, and once or twice he reached up with his free hand and touched his chest and his fans kicked on even louder. Medix stroked the back of his hand with their thumb, every so often assuring him again, quietly, that he was safe and home and doing well.
"Did Professor Boulder punish you?" Wedge asked after a few minutes. He'd finally retracted his visor again, and was seeming a little more relaxed, the panic gradually releasing its tight hold on him.
"Yes, the four of us are going to be sorting trash for at least a few days," Medix explained. "An hour every day until we've gotten through a room's worth of garbage that the humans didn't bother to sort into recyclable and non-recyclable."
"There are worse punishments," he noted. "That sounds pretty important."
"And quite fair," they agreed.
"I'll help."
Medix paused, uncertain, almost flustered. "But... you are not being punished."
"No," Wedge said, "but this is something I'd want to do anyway. It's important, like I said. Besides, it'll go faster with all five of us working on it... And I like spending time with you guys." He smiled, a little. "Even on trash-sorting missions."
"I am amazed," Medix admitted. And a little humbled, honestly. After Wedge had dove straight into his own phobia to help strangers against a problem he was not responsible for and nearly died for it, after helping him through a panic attack on the floor of his room, him volunteering to join them all in their punishment as well because he knew recycling was important was... Well. Medix had wanted to help him understand he was a hero for a while now, and this really drove home to them just how true that was.
"Okay." Wedge carefully started to sit up, not relinquishing Medix's hand for the first few seconds, but then pulling his hand back to get to his feet, only a little shakily. "I think I can get up now."
"Would you like to join the group in the common room?" Medix offered as they stood as well. "I believe the rest of the team is still watching T.V. They felt they would be unable to relax enough to go directly to sleep."
"I'm pretty sure I'm going to have the same problem," Wedge said wryly. "I'd like that. Thanks, Medix." His voice went warmer, "For everything."
Medix opened their mouth to answer, then closed it again. When Wedge headed for the door, though, they caught at his arm with one hand, though their voice didn't carry quite the same urgency as the gesture did. "Just a moment." Wedge turned toward them, immediate open and receptive and attentive body language, and Medix said in a rush, "I am so sorry for alarming you! I sincerely thought that the ship's communications were muted. Both times."
Wedge blinked, then gave a quiet huff of a laugh, and reached out to pull Medix into an embrace. He held them somewhat tightly, likely because he was still shaken, but Medix returned the hug with a tight squeeze that surprised even themself. "I know you did," he said, voice a little choked up, and Medix closed their eyes. "You sounded pretty freaked out, too."
"I'd never want to frighten you like that," they said, their voice smaller than they intended.
"I know. I'm not mad at you, not about any of it. Not accidentally letting me know how bad it was, not trying to keep it from me so it wouldn't scare me." He added more lightly, weakly amused but still amused, "Not even when you stared me down while dumping that trash."
Medix groaned, lowering their forehead to Wedge's shoulder. "Oh, Primus. I did, didn't I?"
"I mean it." Wedge pulled back, and Medix lifted their head again, loosening their grip and letting their arms drop reluctantly, but Wedge immediately grabbed their hands and held them in his again. "You couldn't have known what would happen. Littering doesn't usually have that kind of immediate backlash. We were just super unlucky. And you risked your own life coming out to save me, don't think I didn't notice that."
"I couldn't just let..."
"I know." He squeezed Medix's hands, then let them go, slowly, as if reluctant himself. Medix found themself hoping that he was. "I'm lucky to have someone like you. Having my back."
"Always," Medix said, and they meant it fervently.