( gn!usr; tw: mention of injuries, mention of violence, betrayal )

Wheeljack hadn't felt this strange sensation in a long time, the kind that made his insides feel ready to burst. His fuel pump was malfunctioning, creaking as if from rust, and his own processor was begging him to go anywhere, as long as it was far from this place. Far from you.

He ignored your presence, preferring to stare with an unseeing gaze at the murky reflection in the steel of his blades rather than make eye contact with you. As if something terrible, perhaps disgusting, was sitting beside him, and not a wounded former friend. The Decepticon badge, proudly displayed on you, was irritating. Anger was a corrosive liquid, eating him from the inside. He wanted to tear it off you and never see that shameful mark on you again.

An Autobot badge would have suited you better, giving your worthless exterior at least a shred of decency.

His servo twitched, and his helmet sank even lower, slumping. His thoughtful gaze spoke for him—he had no idea what to do. What was he supposed to do with you? The questions buzzed inside him, stirring beneath the metal.

When Wheeljack found you in the forest, he just wanted to walk away. The pain of your betrayal poisoned every waking moment of his existence, but to fight you? That was too much, even for him, with his unhealed spark-wounds; even if you had betrayed the Autobots and joined the Decepticons; even if you had betrayed him, trampling the friendship he had valued so much.

But you chose to fight. You have only yourself to blame for lying here now with multiple wounds and a torn-off leg. Your actions led to Wheeljack capturing you. He did not want this fight, he didn't start it—so why did a strange bitterness wash over him at the mere sight of your energon spilling onto the ground, staining the grass?

The ache in his helmet was annoying: his processor was gradually beginning to overheat. Thoughts flowed in an endless stream, and with every second, there were more and more of them.

Killing you or letting you go was too much for him. Maybe just hand you over to Prime's team? What they would do with you afterward was no longer his concern.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed you twitching, trying to crawl away. His servo clenched the handle of his sword, and his insides tightened, making his entire frame jerk. Wheeljack knew you couldn't escape, but he couldn't force himself to relax.

"Don't move," Wheeljack said, pouring a feigned indifference into every word that grated on his denta.

He was worried about you, despite your vile betrayal, and it seemed to him that by feeling this way, he was betraying himself. How could he worry about you when he was supposed to hate you?

"Don't try to run. If you keep this up, I'll have to cause you even more pain. And believe me, I'll do it."

Not really. Wheeljack wasn't even sure he could go further than he already had.