The car stops by the hospital in what feels like a flash without recklessness. When Smokescreen climbs out from the car with his sister in his arms, he is greeted by the sight of an older man with dominating grey strands amidst his red hair—the white coat tells him all he needs to know about the other. He couldn't think straight nor keep his focus, and there is a hesitant flinch when Optimus tries to take (Y/n) from him and moves her to the wheeled bed. She is moved to the emergency room, and then everything just goes blank when Smokescreen's mind stops functioning in the waiting room.
His mind buzzes loudly although the room is so eerily quiet. He sits alone on one of the rows of metal benches, eyes glued to the floor while he fiddles his fingers anxiously. Somewhere in the back of his head, there is a whispering voice that tells him to expect the worst to protect himself from the pain, telling him not to hope. However, Smokescreen is never a pessimist; not when they lived in the threat of constant violence, not when they had to work and beg for money to survive, and especially not when his sister's life is barely hanging by a thread. It is then when the young boy feels the track of tears running down, wiping them quickly or else it'd be too hard to stop.
The pair hang back a little distance away from the grieving brother, giving him the space that he might need. It doesn't stop Elita to rest her gaze at him, the expression and body language being displayed are enough to let her know how worried and overwhelmed he must be in this situation. She turns to the man standing next to her, his arms crossed in front of his chest, looking as worried as she is although they are practically strangers.
"Optimus." Elita proceeds to tug on him a little, gaining his attention instantly. "I'm not really good at this—"
His small nod is a relief to her, knowing that he understands what needs to be done.
"I will try my best." He answers, giving his wife's hand a small squeeze of reassurance before making his way over to the lone boy.
At first, Smokescreen ignores the footsteps coming his way because nothing—no one—can make him feel better. Soon, he hears subtle rustling next to him and a hand on his shoulder. Smokescreen turns to the side only to see the man that drove them here.
"What is your name, young one?" Optimus asks in hopes to start a lighthearted conversation.
"Smokescreen, sir." Despite the visible hesitance, Smokescreen answers in a whisper. "T-thank you for helping my sister."
Optimus offers a thin smile then nods, feeling the tenseness in the boy when he mentions his sister. "Do not worry, Smokescreen, your sister will be alright."
"What if she won't be?" The collected persona Smokescreen has been clutching onto for the past few hours is slowly cracking. "What if she's beyond help, then it'd be my fault, and—"
The reassuring squeeze on his shoulder returns him back from his horrible thoughts, seeing the older man shaking his head. "Accidents happen, Smokescreen, what happened was no one's fault." He tells him gently. "And most definitely not yours. All we can do now is hope for the best for your sister."
While the two men in the room are conversing among themselves, Elita notices the door that slowly cracks open, revealing the familiar figure making his way out. She approaches him quickly. When she does, the other two notice and do exactly the same thing—Smokescreen is almost running towards them.
"How is she, Ratchet?" Elita is the first to ask the question, the air tensing up a little while waiting for his answer.
The doctor—Ratchet, the one Elita had called on their way to the hospital—sighs lightly. "She's stable, for now." His answer is enough to bring the tension down. "Had she been brought in a little later, she would've been beyond saving."
Once again, Smokescreen feels his eyes sting whilst keeping his gaze on the floor, harshly wiping the tears that leaves him and biting his lower lip to stop it from quivering. Elita shares a look with Optimus, the relief in their faces are visible to each other.
"Thank you, old friend." Optimus thanks Ratchet, earning him a curt nod before he leaves the three who linger by the door.
---
Smokescreen has never left (Y/n)'s side while she lays unconscious on the hospital bed. On the night of the accident, Smokescreen returned alone to Starscream, being confronted for his late arrival. Recounting the event was painful enough for the young boy, then he had to stand there to endure Starscream's unforgiving lecture and name-calling—'who would pay for the bills?!' was his first and foremost concern of the whole incident. He had to hide his own anger and disappointment over Starscream's lack of concern, that's just how he is.
A week has passed since then. Smokescreen makes his way to (Y/n)'s room with a bag slumped over his shoulder. This time, he doesn't come alone; Arcee walks with him, keeping some distance away, her eyes clearly surveying the area around them. The hallway is long and wide enough for two wheelchairs to pass at the same time. Some doctors and nurses move hitherto, walking in and out of patient rooms. Her gaze returns to the boy walking in front of her, a tiny ounce of pity rises in her chest. She had been given a task by Starscream to go with Smokescreen and ensure that he does not run away—also to learn where (Y/n) is being kept.
They stop in front of a door, and Smokescreen slides it open. Soon, he takes a seat by (Y/n)'s bed while Arcee stands by the door. He reaches for his sister's hand and grasps it gently, putting on a forced smile.
"Hey, guess what?" Smokescreen intends to start a conversation even when he knows the other cannot reply to him, "We got adopted. Finally, huh?"
For a moment there, his voice shakes. An attempt to keep it steady is made instantly. "I have to go first. When you get better, I'll come to get you."
"So, get well soon so we can live together again, as a family."
Smokescreen gets up and leans down, giving (Y/n)'s unmoving form a kiss on the forehead. He doesn't let go of her hand instantly; it is hard, after all, to say goodbye, but they will be together again soon. He has faith in them.
Finally, he turns around to leave, meeting Arcee's gaze for a moment. Smokescreen halts his steps by the door, turning to face her fully. Arcee knows that he is barely hanging and keeping it together.
"Arcee." He speaks her name softly, a pleading whisper. "Take care of my sister, yeah?"
Her answer is simply a nod and her arms wrapping themselves around his figure; for what reason, she can't figure out. One thing she knows for sure, the gesture is enough for Smokescreen's resolve to crumble as he cries in silence.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Brother (TFP/RID & Reader)
Fanfiction[Human AU] Smokescreen and (Y/n) are inseparable siblings. After the death of their parents, they lived with their abusive uncle and aunt somewhere far away from the city. In hopes for a better chance in life and future, they ran away. Upon arriving...
