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Dot drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as the tow tractor made its slow, trundling way through the military base. Strapped on tight to the trailer behind her was a led-lined crate, stamped in bold red with 'caution: hazardous material'. Inside was a small stack of energon cubes.
Outside, in the loneliest corner of the base, well away from her colleagues and superiors, Dot rolled her eyes and sighed.
Her mood didn’t improve when she finally reached the warehouse. It was the oldest on site and barely up to code, more a place to shove random junk than a proper storage facility. Dot hopped out of the tractor cab, hauled the doors open with a squeal of rusty hinges, and grimaced at the feeling of hot, stagnant air that rolled over her like a wave. The windows were clearly too small to do much good without proper ventilation, and there didn't seem to be so much as a battery powered desk fan. Sweat broke out on Dot's upper lip as she got back inside the tractor and continued inside, deciding not to close the doors behind her.
Around the corner of a few hastily stacked crates, the warehouse opened up. All the junk had been pushed to the sides to make room for a barren desert of scuffed grey concrete, and in the middle lay the base’s guest of honour: Megatron himself.
He was curled up on his side, one arm pillowing his head and the other tucked close to his chest. Dot could hear the thrum of his enormous engine above that of the tractor's, but it was subdued, almost quiet. He stirred as she approached, opening his enormous eyes to scowl with displeasure. They seemed dimmer than usual, the red less piercing. But most tellingly of all, he'd taken his helmet off. Dot could see a row of ridges encircling the top of his head.
To anyone on base who'd been wondering if transformers could get sick, they had their answer. Just like every other living thing – and every other computer, for that matter – they weren't immune to viruses, and this one had knocked the mighty Megatron flat on his big grey metal ass.
“Oh,” Megatron grunted, a faint static crackle in his voice, “it’s one of you.”
“Nice to see you too,” Dot said dryly.
She pulled up in front of him and cut the tractor's engine, slowly squeezing the steering wheel for a moment as she watched the giant in front of her. Dot may have been one of the few humans who worked closely with transformers, but that didn't mean they were her friends. In fact she'd only spoken to Megatron a handful of times, and he’d always struck Dot as arrogant, aloof, and several other words she was trying to phase out of her vocabulary for the sake of her son. It didn’t matter if he was technically on her side, being alone with him always made Dot feel a little… tense.
Steeling herself, Dot left the relative safety of the tractor cab and unhitched the trailer.
"Lunch time," she said lamely, knocking on the top of the crate.
Megatron shifted a little, visibly unimpressed. "And here I thought it might be something useful," he grumbled. “Like a patch for this fragging headache.”
“If you’d rather starve I can arrange that,” Dot bit back.
The corner of Megatron’s mouth twitched, fighting either a smile or a snarl.
“Now I remember,” Megatron purred. “You’re the feisty one.”
Dot bristled. “I’m the one who gets the job done,” she said coldly. “And I’ll have you know I’m the third highest ranking officer on his site,” Dot snapped. Although I should be the first, she thought bitterly.
That did earn her a smile – or rather a sneer. Too many of those not-quite-teeth.
“Oh of course, that’s why you’re here running errands instead of something more worthwhile. Why don’t you cure this virus as well if you’re so competent?”
That struck a nerve. Worse, Dot couldn’t think of an immediate counter that didn’t sound like an excuse, and she could tell by the growing smirk on Megatron’s face that she’d already run out of time.
Megatron watched her flounder and chuckled, but it wasn’t a nice sound. Too much like metal going through a shredder.
“My boss is a jerk,” Dot said finally, looking away. “I had one kid and now he’s decided I’m not good for anything else.”
“You… what?”
Dot glanced back at Megatron. He was still scowling, but looked puzzled as well. Something about what she’d said seemed to have genuinely thrown him.
“I took time off to make another, smaller human,” said Dot, not in the mood for an impromptu class on human biology.
Megatron’s frown faded completely. “You’re a blacksmith?”
Dot shrugged helplessly. “Sure, if that’s what you guys call it.”
“Oh.” Megatron didn’t seem to have a comeback. He looked at Dot with the most honest, open expression she’d ever seen on him before. “I haven’t met a blacksmith in over four million years,” he said quietly, almost to himself.
Then his eyes hardened.
“You’ve done your job,” he grunted, sounding more tired than angry, “now leave me in peace.”
Dot hesitated. When she’d agreed, reluctantly, to do the job, she had fully intended on being in and out as quickly as possible. She’d only ever thought of Megatron as a dangerous, violent, pain in the ass, but… she’d seen that hint of softness now.
Megatron's engine kicked into a low, rumbling growl. It would've been a lot more intimidating if he'd been sitting up and towering over her, but he seemed reluctant to move. Against her better judgement, Dot felt a pang of sympathy. If her allies made her wait out the flu in an old closet, well… she wouldn’t be happy either.
Dot looked Megatron over with an assessing gaze. He seemed cold, but the air above his head shimmered faintly, like the freeway in summer – was it the same as when malware made a computer overheat? That must be uncomfortable. He looked uncomfortable, lying on bare concrete without even a blanket or a pillow. Dot knew transformers didn't need the same cushy comforts as humans but this still seemed like a less-than-ideal set up for rest and recovery. Hadn’t the Autobots considered that?
To be honest, Dot didn’t think the Autobots had considered much at all. When the higher-ups had asked why they needed to quarantine the giant alien robot and not the giant alien robots themselves, the answer they'd got back sounded hollow and flimsy to Dot. Something about differently coded immune systems – an annoyance for Decepticons could be lethal to Autobots and vice versa. Smelled like bullcrap to Dot, but she didn't have the medical, engineering, or computer science degree to prove it.
Dot waited another second before taking a slow step forward, aware of the hands that could reduce her to paste, but trusting that they wouldn’t. Megatron watched, guarded but curious, as if wondering what this ‘feisty’ human would do next.
Dot still wasn't sold on ‘good guy’ Megatron. She didn't see how anyone who'd waged war for so long could make such a drastic change. But at the same time… Dot understood the desire to do the right thing, even if it wasn't easy.
Besides, he looked so put out and pathetic it was honestly a bit uncomfortable.
“How do you feel?” she asked, softening her voice.
Megatron rolled his eyes and huffed. "Oh, I feel sublime," he grumbled. "My central processor's overheating, my core temperature dropped to prevent my helm from melting, and I'm trapped in his dust box because the Autobot medic didn't think to make compatible anti-viral software. Everything aches. This is exactly what I had in mind when I negotiated the ceasefire."
Dot inched a little closer. "Can I do anything to help?"
"No," Megatron snapped.
Dot threw her hands up in exasperation. "Men!" she exclaimed, tenderness forgotten. "I swear, you're the same in every species – complain all you like, but as soon as someone tries to make it better, you're back at it with the tough guy routine." She cocked her hip, folded her arms, and hit Megatron with her best Mom Stare. It was still a work in progress, but he didn't need to know that.
"Do you need anything?" she asked firmly.
Megatron stared.
Dot stared back.
Megatron kept staring.
Dot stared harder.
Megatron was the first to look away.
"A cold compress would be nice," he mumbled.
Dot fought a smug smile. "I'll see what I can do," she said, getting back in the tractor. "Try to eat while I'm gone, ok? At least half a cube."
Obviously the base didn’t have a transformer-sized compress, but she got a clean sponge, a bucket of fresh water, and a few cups of ice from the staff lounge.
She returned to the warehouse to find Megatron propped up on one elbow, idly swirling half a cube of energon around with his other hand. He had the presence of mind to toss back the rest before Dot could get too close, muttering something disparaging about 'medgrade'. He eyed the bucket with distaste as Dot got out of the tractor, but he must have been feeling worse than he’d let on because he lay down again without complaint.
"Sorry I can’t give you the five star experience," Dot said anyway.
"As if I'd expect more from a human," Megatron grumbled.
"You're lucky you're under the weather, big guy,” Dot muttered under her breath, soaking the sponge and squeezing it out.
She hesitated a moment. She hadn't fully realised just how close she'd be getting to Megatron's face. Never one to back down, however, Dot pressed the sponge gently to the heated metal forehead, watching faint trails of steam evaporate.
It hit her suddenly how familiar the motion was. Robby had come down with a bug only a few days before Dot was due to go back to work, and she'd stubbornly extended her leave because of it. Maybe that was why she'd been shunted aside, but she'd do it again in a heartbeat.
Megatron closed his eyes and sighed, great metal body relaxing with a hydraulic hiss.
"Higher," he mumbled, ever demanding. Dot rolled her eyes and did as he said, re-wetting the sponge and moving it to the edge of the ridges. They shuddered faintly, Megatron's breathing hitched, and then they slowly unfurled with gentle clicks and creaks. Tall metal panels, tapered like petals on a flower. They looked… not rusty, but lined. As though they'd been folded for a long time.
"Thank you," Megatron breathed, so softly Dot barely heard him.
"Don't mention it, Megs," she said, "just get well soon."