~ * ~

Tarn took the 'Con's face in his palms and came closer to him, so that their faces were now a few inches apart.

"I know how that feels," he whispered softly, "I know all you want right now is to disappear somewhere where you can shut down, but you know what? That isn't going to change anything. Even if you disappear, the Autobots will continue to torture and bully those of our kind. Your self-induced termination will do them a service."

Crack's optics were humid with warm tears, that now found their way out of their socket and down his cheek. Tarn used his thumbs to wipe them away.

"Tell me, Crack," he whispered again, after a pause, in a reassuring tone, "would your departure serve other 'Cons?"

The robot closed his optics and leaned forward, bursting into a desperate cry on Tarn's chest. The big, fuchsia and green 'Con pulled him into a warm embrace and hummed a kind song, a lullaby. He rubbed his back and the 'Con's cry slowly stopped. However, Tarn still held him close.

"It's alright. You will be okay soon," he said, smiling behind his mask.

The young 'Con lifted his head to look at Tarn's masked face and stretched his lips into a small smile. "Th-thanks, Tarn... it feels better..."

Tarn patted the robot's cheek. "Live, Crack. Live, and show the Autobots that your life does count. Every life does."

~ * ~

Kaon had forgotten to tell Darkmoon there was no therapy chair in the room. He felt almost embarrassed to tell the truth.

"Er... I'm the chair, actually."

The confession made Darkmoon's optics blink. "You? I mean, is that... your alt-mode?"

"Yeah. Makes things easier, doesn't it?"

"I suppose..." Darkmoon glanced around the room while Kaon transformed. Nothing against chairs, and the whole thing didn't embarrass him, but he didn't want to offend his therapist with sudden laughter... because when he first stumbled into Kaon at the spaceport, a quick glance at his dark optics made him burst into a sudden laughter, immediately followed by tears. His brain could never process emotions and sensations like others.

Kaon waited for his patient to get comfortable and loosen up a bit before warming up the seat and sending calming impulses through the Con's body. Darkmoon's nervous system relaxed as the impulses brought balance into his messed-up brain.

Everything slowly became more regular, ordered, one emotion at a time. Maybe two. It was bliss.

"Are you crying?" Kaon asked, softly.

"I'm just relieved, Kaon. Just that."

~ * ~

There was nothing  that Vos wouldn't do with his "feel better" face, given the opportunity, and since right now he could, he did.

Stopcase wasn't exactly a lucky femme - she had had nothing but a handful of Energon sticks to go by for months, and she would have starved to death hadn't she found Vos on her path. What made it worse was depression: if she didn't get over it, she wouldn't eat or drink enough Energon to get a chance. She was surrendering to death, and that was something Vos couldn't allow to happen if it was in his power to stop it.

So he removed his own face plate and placed it over Stopcase's face. The electrodes on the inside of the plate linked to the Decepticon's skin sensors and emitted light impulses, something similar to what human beings called acupuncture. Every impulse reactivated dormant nodes in the Cybertronian brain that depression and hunger had deactivated.

It was nothing like Kaon's powers, and it always took a while to see the first results of Vos' special therapy, but he could see the femme reacting after a few minutes: she stretched her fingers and feet, and then Vos heard her chuckle, and then mutter something in a cheerful tone.

Nothing Vos would understand, alas, because all his brain could process was Primal Vernacular, but the cheery tone made him happy.

When he removed the plate from Stopcase's face, he saw a real, bright smile of gratitude.

When he handed her a bunch of Energon sticks, she devoured them.

~ * ~

When the Paristia-City clinic on Nebula requested an ICU unit for Minicons in life-threatening conditions, they didn't foresee they'd get Helex from the Decepticon Rescue Division, someone who was more of a legend to them than a real medical unit. The big yellow 'Con was humbled with so much trust and appreciation, but he tried to not let that distract him from his duty: he had two Minicon lives to save.

There was enough room for a third Minicon inside his chest chamber, but the more personal space each patient had around their body, the better.

Helex spent forty-eight hours trying to save both Minicons, but one didn't make it. Her condition was too critical even for his super-powered ICU.

So, for the next twelve hours before he left the clinic, Helex spent them mourning.

~ * ~

Tesarus didn't leave Helex alone at the clinic. He was in another room, working as an efficient washing machine that made used hospital clothes clean and disinfected in less than an hour, but he kept a comm open with his comrade.

"You did your best to save her..."

"I know I did, but it wasn't enough."

"Sometimes 'enough' is all you can do, mate."

A minute of silence fell over the comm.

"Thank you, Tess."

~ * ~

In the middle of the night, back at the base, Nickel had almost drifted off to recharge weren't for her comrades coming back and making noise. Clang, clang, voices, laughter. She sat up on her chair in medbay where she had been waiting, and rushed to the corridor to greet her friends... and let them know she hadn't been exactly happy to miss hours of good recharge.

"You made me wait so long! Where have you been?"

"Sorry, Nickel," Tarn said, picking her up to hug her, "we had difficult patients today."

"You mean yesterday... given the hour."

Tarn laughed and put her down. "If we get late again, we'll comm you, I promise."

"You better stick to that promise, Tarn, or I'll lock up the ship."

"I dare you."

No, she wouldn't dare, but mocking Tarn was fun and she knew he loved the exchange.

But now, no matter how tired she was, no matter how badly she needed to recharge, Helex needed her support.

~ * ~

THE END