Jazz’s whole frame trembled, his vents shuddering in frantic, uneven bursts. The medbay walls felt like they were closing in, suffocating him, pressing tighter and tighter with every second. He shouldn’t be here. He didn’t want to be here.

The second the door opened, panic surged through his circuits like an electric shock. He bolted—didn’t think, didn’t hesitate—his body moving on instinct alone. But hands caught him before he could even reach the door, lifting him easily, keeping him in place.

“No! No, no, no—lemme go!” Jazz’s voice cracked, raw with desperation as he struggled, twisting, thrashing, fighting. His hands clawed at their arms, pushing, pulling—anything to get free. “I can’t— I can’t be here! I gotta go—I gotta go!”

He kicked wildly, optics wide and pleading, his vents coming too fast, too shallow. “Please! I’ll be good, I swear! I-I don’t need this—I can do it on my own!” His voice was breaking, cracking under the weight of his panic. “I just— I just wanna go home!”

His struggling grew weaker, his strength draining as his body shook violently, his frame heaving with sharp, uneven vents. “Please…” His voice was barely above a whisper now, optics burning as tears blurred his vision. His limbs twitched restlessly, exhaustion creeping in, but the panic didn’t fade.

His helm hung low, defeated sobs wracking his frame as his spark ached with a single, painful truth.

He wasn’t going anywhere.