TW: mentions of vomit, nausea 

  "All right. I'm ready."

  Ratchet glanced over at me with a discontent frown. I stood in the centre of the platform with my hands on my hips, surrounded by all the supplies I thought I'd need and more; cleaning products, a rubbish bin, cheap plastic drawers, an old camping kitchenette set, and a decrepit heater that was close to twice my age.

  It'd been almost a week since I first met the Autobots, and each day had been a carbon copy of the rest; wake up, drop Raf off at school, arrive at base where the rest of the bots would disappear off for patrol, contemplate the uselessness of my existence with only Ratchet for company, pick Raf up, return to base, go home, and then do it all over again.

  The nothingness was beginning to make me restless. I was exhausted and burnt out, but going from being in a constant state of busyness to doing zilch was a shock to the system. I was rotting away. I was bored to tears.

  So, on Friday, I finally managed to bring myself to do something. Clean.

  Everything I'd brought was all stuff dug out of storage, things that my family would realistically never use again or had never gotten around to throwing out. Better to reuse than have it tossed into a landfill, right? Besides, this place needed to be more human-friendly.

  I didn't think Ratchet appreciated my very large pile of good intentions, though.

  "Are you purposefully infecting more of my work area with human junk?" he bitterly asked.

  I held out my arm and gestured to the mess around me. "No. I'm cleaning the human junk."

  Ratchet's grouchiness eased with surprise. "Oh. Good to know at least some humans understand the necessity of cleanliness."

  I was pretty sure that was the nicest thing he'd ever and ever will say to me.

  "Hey, Raf's usually pretty good," I defended. "It just looks like they all picked up on some bad habits here. Why didn't you say something if it bothered you so much?"

  Ratchet huffed and grumbled and said no more. I smiled to myself in amusement. No matter the species, grouchy old men were always the same.

  I got to work; gathering the discarded wrappers, old take-out containers, a broken pen, empty tubs of ice cream, and shoving it all into a trash bag. When that was sorted, I organised what looked to be homework pages and notebooks and laid them neatly on the table. Then I grabbed all the plates and utensils, the dishwashing supplies I brought, and set to scrubbing them clean in the nearby sink.

  Thank god this place had hot water. I was half-expecting the tap to stay cold, considering its occupants.

  "What are you working on?" I asked as I dunked a plate into the soapy water.

  "I'm scanning your planet for energon signals using satellites and your extensive camera network."

  "Sounds like a lot to cover," I said.

  Ratchet made a half-hearted sound of contemplation. "It passes the time. I'm not exactly built to be out in the field."

  "So, you're both the medic and the guy in the chair," I murmured to myself. "You're pretty skilled."

  Ratchet sent me a strange, confused look. "What does a person sitting on a chair have anything to do with me?"

  "It means that you're the one making sure everything runs smoothly behind the scenes," I answered. I unclogged the sink and let the water drain with a loud gurgle. "Y'know, providing tech support, giving directions. That kinda stuff."

  "I still fail to see how a chair comes into this."

  I grinned. "It's an Earth saying."

  Ratchet grunted, interested no more. He continued observing his scans. I set up the plastic drawers in the corner and filled them with all the miscellaneous items that had been strewn about the place.

  It didn't take half as long to clean up the platform as I'd feared. I glanced at my Bag of Things that was still sitting on the end of the couch, taunting me with all the tasks I needed to do. My chest seized with anxiety.

  "This burn out recovery thing really sucks," I said. I dropped onto the couch and tiredly stared at the ceiling.

  "My spark goes out to you," Ratchet said insincerely.

  I leant my head back and squinted my eyes at his sarcasm. The sass was astronomical, but I supposed that was a fitting description. He was from outer space, after all.

  My glare turned back to my bag. Wouldn't even just opening it be a success? A little win to soothe my feeling of inadequacy? It would. C'mon, Y/n. Just open the bag. CV. Job search. Appointments. Self-maintenance. Go, go, go.

My body cringed away from the bag. Just the idea of doing anything made me want to shut down. After two years of having insignificant time to rest, I didn't want to do anything that felt like work, afraid that I'd fall back into the obsessive routine I'd been stuck in. It was almost sickening.

  But I couldn't just do nothing forever. I couldn't just do nothing for the entire week, I'd go stir-crazy. I was a person who needed assignments, a person who had to keep themselves busy, I was a person who devoured organised tasks and jobs - when I was treated right. I had to do something.

  I flexed my hands. Me Vs Bag. I inhaled deeply and shook my head to clear my lingering thoughts. Just one thing, Y/n, come on! I graduated with a masters - doing a simple task like booking a dentist appointment is a fraction of the effort.

  I took a nap.

  The portal zipping into existence and the deafening sound of Autobot footsteps filling the base woke me with a start. It took a second to remember where I was, left confused by the abrupt end to my slumber. Something heavy was being dragged along the ground.

  "Oh, thank Primus," Ratchet sighed with relief. "Our reserves were getting far too low."

  I struggled upright and peeked over the couch. Bulkhead, Bee and Arcee were shoving in large, metal crates filled with so much glowing blue ore it would make a geologist faint from excitement. My brows furrowed. This must've been the stuff they were mining for. Energon, was it?

  Optimus watched the three bots stack the crates in the corner of Ratchet's work area. "I fear that what we managed to gather won't last more than a few orns," he said.

  "Just as long as we have enough to keep our sparks lit," Ratchet murmured.

  "Have you uncovered any more signals?"

  "A few, but they're weak."

  "Weak might mean that Megatron won't bother," Arcee said. She joined Ratchet and Optimus and placed a hand on her hip. "He'll continue focusing on the larger mines he's got guarded. We can't afford to be fussy."

  "Agreed," Optimus replied.

  Ratchet hummed with consideration. "Yes... there are three signals. When do you want to roll out?"

  Optimus transformed his hand into a very large, very scary gun. "Let the others recharge. I will depart now."

  "Now?" Ratchet spluttered with disbelief. "Optimus, if anyone needs a recharge, it's you. If you keep working yourself to the gears, you'll end up like- like..." He pointed to me. "Her!"

  Taken aback by suddenly being dragged into the conversation I'd been observing, I shot Ratchet an insulted scowl. "Whoa, hey, what did I do?"

  "Ugh - you know very well." He waved me off with a flick of his hand.

  I scoffed. Rude.

  Optimus' gaze lingered on me for a second before returning to Ratchet. The dials of his eyes seemed to spin and dilate as he contemplated, before finally coming to his decision.
 
  "We can't afford to wait, old friend," Optimus said. "I won't be long."

  Ratchet followed after him as he walked back toward the groundbridge. Frustration seeped from the medic as if it were a bad odour - the pinch of his expression was sharp with exasperation.

  "At least take someone with you," he insisted. 

  Optimus faltered with consideration. I stood from the couch and leaned upon the railing, waiting for the outcome.

  "I could go for another spin," Bulkhead offered after he stacked the last of the crates.

  Ratchet relented with a grumble. Bee whirred something that made him hold his hand up in an order for silence.

  "Fine." Ratchet pointed a threatening finger at the much larger Prime. "But you must recharge when you return. This is an order from your medic."

  Optimus responded with a nod. I hesitated, teetering between speaking up or not. As he and Bulkhead began walking toward where a new groundbridge had just been opened, I gathered my courage.

  "Can I come?" I asked. "Being stuck in here with Doctor Smiles is making me go crazy."

  Optimus and Bulkhead paused with a look back at me, while Bee and Arcee both snickered at the sour look Ratchet made. Bulkhead glanced at Optimus, who in turn looked to the scorned medic. He surveyed his screens for a moment before shrugging with nonchalance.

  "Signal's clear of Decepticons," Ratchet said. "Please, feel free to leave her there."

  The frown Optimus sent Ratchet might very well have been one of admonishment. He nodded to me. "Very well, Y/n. You can join us."

  I brightened. I quickly grabbed my phone and padded down the stairs before joining the two Autobots at the swirling turquoise vortex. Their height gave me upside-down vertigo.

  Bulkhead transformed into his SUV mode and popped open his shotgun door. "C'mon, fleshy. You're riding with me."

  I grinned and clambered into his cab. "Alright, metaly."

  Bulkhead chuckled at my reversal of his joke. The inside of his car mode was more spacious than Bee's, and while his was all streamlined and racer-ready, Bulk's was more fortified for strength and protection. His seats were so large that I almost sunk halfway into its padding.

  "Ready to roll?" Bulkhead asked.

  "Let's get some cool-ass rocks," I said.

  The illuminated Autobot insignia on his steering wheel pulsated as he laughed. "That's the spirit."

  Optimus transformed into his Peterbilt mode and, with his engine rumbling smoother than any Earth truck, rolled through the groundbridge. My hesitation reared its head when Bulkhead began to follow after him. The swirling portal stretched high and wide, a monumental rip in space-time, so fantastical and terrifying that I think I forgot how to breathe.

  A thought struck me. "Wait, this is safe for humans, right-?"

  We'd already passed through before I could finish my question. It left my skin buzzing, as if I were clamped onto an electrical outlet or had been coated by a shower of lightning. My limbs felt strangely heavy and thick, stiff to move. My stomach upturned.

  "Oh, fuck." I grabbed the side of Bulkhead's door and hung my head with misery.

  "Ahh..." Bulkhead sympathetically slowed to a crawl. "You get used to it, promise."

  I was too busy trying not to throw up to reply. Thank god I'd had an early lunch, otherwise the inside of Bulkhead's cab would be the colour of last night's leftovers. I offered him a shaking thumbs-up instead.

  When I was sure my gag reflex was in the clear, I looked up to see where the groundbridge had spat us out. Tall trees stretched for the baking sun that dappled us through the leaves, and the terrain was rocky with sprouts of harsh vegetation. We were in a mountainside forest.

  "Whoa..." I spotted Optimus in front of us, traversing the uneven ground with ease. "Teleportation is crazy."

  Bulkhead chuckled. "Miko had the same reaction. You're like sparklings seeing Harmonex for the first time."

  "I have no idea what that means but I get your point."

  Bulkhead's radio crackled with an incoming communication.

  "The access point is too degraded to attempt entry," Optimus said. "I suggest we fan out and try to find another way to get inside the cave system."

  "Copy that, Prime," Bulkhead replied. The Peterbilt continued to tackle the unforgiving landscape while we turned to take on the west side. "So, Y/n, how are you handling things?"

  I gazed out at the scenery and made a sound of contemplation. "If somebody told me last week that I'd be having small talk with an alien, I'd ask if they needed help. I think I'm handling things pretty well all things considered."

  Bulkhead chortled. "It's pretty wild, I guess. I have to remind myself that your kind is a desolate species."

  "What do you mean?"

  Bulkhead grunted as he accelerated over a large stump that was in his way. "Well, I can't think of any other planet that doesn't have intergalactic communications." 

  My brows raised with surprise. "Really?"

  Bulkhead hummed. "I was told that before all the wars, we were a space-faring race. Cybertron had connections and trades with multiple galaxies from all the travelling we'd do. Coming across a species that never had any outer planet contact was pretty rare."

  "So humanity is essentially still in the Stone Age in comparison to the rest of the universe," I figured. "That doesn't surprise me. I can't even get my meds without the pharmacy screwing something up."

  "I have no idea what that means," Bulkhead said.

  I patted the side of the door with a smile. "I have a feeling we'll be saying that to each other a lot."

  Bulkhead made a sound of agreement. The terrain began to grow more cliff-facey than just rocky, so he transformed to continue on foot. He had the grace to be slow enough for me to keep up as I found my way over rocks and through bush.

  "You and Ratchet seem to be getting along," he noted.

  I raised a brow. "You call that 'getting along'?"

  Bulkhead held out a hand to help me over a slip that was a little too tall for me to get over without climbing like a raccoon. "With Ratch? Yes."

  I stepped off his palm with a huff of amusement. "I guess if you spend hours together everyday, you start to understand each other's boundaries." I gave him my thanks when he stretched back up. "Everyone's been really nice to me considering, y'know, I kinda shouted at your leader."

  Bulkhead's guffaw echoed through the forest at the reminder of a tiny little human chewing a gargantuan robotic being out. My cheeks burned with shame.

  "Taking on a vehicon and a Prime." Bulkhead chuckled to himself. "If you weren't Raf's older sister, I'd think you were crazy."

  My smile was grim. "Yes, well, when you look death down the barrel of a gun that's twenty times your size, your composure isn't exactly in perfect shape."

  "Heh, fair. I don't think anyone's spoken to Prime like that since before we came to Earth." Bulkhead paused for a second. When he next spoke, his voice was quieter. "Probably since Elita."

  My intrigue overtook my shame. "Who's that?"

  Bulkhead expelled a low sigh. "Elita-1 was a commander back on Cybertron. She'd been with Optimus since the start of... well, everything. She offlined a few thousand vorns ago."

  My mood grew heavy beneath the weight of his melancholy. I held back a branch covered with spiky leaves and released it once I'd passed.

  "Sounds like they were close."

  "'Close' doesn't begin to cover it," Bulkhead murmured. "They were sparkmates."

  Sparkmates? I recalled Ratchet mentioning something about a spark before we left, but he used many Cybertronian words that I didn't know the meaning of. Sparkmates. Well, given the context...

  I looked up at Bulkhead in surprise. "Were they, like... soulmates?"

  "If I'm guessing what you mean correctly, then yeah, pretty much."

  My heart sank. "That's so sad."

  "Yeah... that's war."

  I looked back in the direction where we'd split off from Optimus Prime. How long had this war been going on for? How many Autobots had he lost? I wasn't one to believe in destiny or souls, but to lose who you considered to be your soulmate... I couldn't imagine how much that must've devastated him.

  Something glinting through the trees caught my attention. My steps stopped short.

  "Hey, Bulkhead?"

  "Yeah?"

  I pointed to the sky. "That plane's heading toward us."

  Bulkhead whipped around and followed my frozen gaze. The firm expression he took didn't soothe my apprehension.

  "Scrap."

  "Is it one of those scammers?" I nervously asked.
 
  He sent me a confused look. "One of the what? Never mind - you need to hide. Prime? Prime, we have a situation." Bulkhead's hands transformed into a gun and what looked to be a wrecking ball. "Hide, Y/n, go!"

  So it was one of the scammers. Motivated by a return of my highly-strung survival instincts, I turned on my heel and bolted deeper into the forest.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck! I hopped from rock to rock, the uneven ground threatening to send me tumbling right down the mountainside. My heartbeat raced in my ears. My lungs and legs quickly began to burn with exertion, unused to physical activity after my sedentary office job.

  The sound of gunfire from behind skittered my feet faster, sending me scrambling and stumbling down the harsh slopes. My palms began to sting and grow numb from all the times I had to catch myself. Another round of explosions had a sob build in my throat.

  I skidded around a corner where the rock rose into a small cliff face and offered a half-concealed hiding spot. I pressed my back against the jagged wall and tried to control my hectic, panicked breathing that kept escaping me in thin sips. The expansive forest played tricks on my ears; the horrifying, echoing cracks of trees falling victim to the bot-on-bot battle taking place sounded like it was coming from all around me.

  My body shook, charged and electrified by adrenaline. My legs gave out, sliding me down into a crouch while the rock scratched me through my jersey. I clawed at my racing heart. Every distant sound made me flinch. I should've just stayed at base with Doctor Smiles.

  A flock of birds took the sky in a rush of flapping wings and shrill caws, making my panic skyrocket with a startle. A robotic, glitching cry screeched amongst the trees. It was a haunting sound.

  I clasped my hands over my ears and pinned my eyes shut. Terror had seized me wholly, scooping me up and squeezing me between its fingers. Aside from the first night I met Bee, I hadn't been this afraid since I was a little kid. 

  What if Bulkhead and Optimus died? What if I got stranded with no way to get back to civilisation and I died? I had no idea where I was. I didn't even know if I was on American soil.

  A heavy thud of a Cybertronian footstep had the ground rumbling and a gasp squeaking from my lips. I gathered my hands over my mouth to silence me from making any further sounds. I didn't dare look around to see if whoever it was friendly or not - but they kept walking toward my hiding spot, spurring my heart faster with every approaching, ground-shaking footstep.

  I huddled into myself tighter the stronger the shaking became. Tears sprung from my eyes. I wasn't built for this, for some interplanetary war fought by metal titans - I was built for office jobs with reasonable hours and engaging work. I just hoped that my death was swift.

  "Y/n?"

  The gentle call of my name had me looking up and finding a worried pair of large, blue eyes. All my breath escaped me at once. Relief was dizzying.

  My hands fell. "Optimus," I gasped.

  He held out a finger for me to grab onto. "Are you alright?"

  I made a sound of unconvincing agreement. My weak hand slipped against his metal twice before I forced myself to take a solid hold. He pulled me to my shaking legs and allowed me a moment to regain my scattered, drifting senses.

  I leaned on his finger and willed my strength to return, ruined adrenaline making me limp and feeble. I'd forgotten how consuming mortal terror was. It left me winded. Optimus' battle mask detached and slid back, revealing his soft frown as he watched me struggle.

  "I apologise," he said. "If I'd known there was a Decepticon inbound, I wouldn't have let you join us."

  "It's fine," I breathed. "Is it over?"

  "It's over."

  I shakily nodded. "Is Bulkhead okay?"

  "He's unharmed," Optimus replied.

  "Are you okay?"

  He faltered, as if not expecting me to ask that. His pause made me turn my eyes up and meet his gaze.

  "... I'm okay," he slowly said. "Can you stand?"

  I tested my legs, lifting one and then the other. Satisfied that I didn't immediately topple over, I nodded. Optimus slowly recoiled his hand and rose to his full height. My neck prickled, sensitive from fear.

  "We need to reconvene with Bulkhead before reinforcements arrive," he said. He glanced at me and then at the rocky, rising terrain. "It would be quicker if I carried you."

  My despair made itself known with an audible groan. Carried at his height? Just another panic attack to add to the one I was already having. But what was my other option, to stay here and risk dealing with reinforcements? I didn't have a choice.

  I lifted my arms with reluctance. "Let's do it, then. Uppies."

  Optimus hesitated, probably unsure what 'uppies' meant just as much as I still didn't know how long a vorn was. He didn't question it. He crouched down with his hand on the ground for me to clamber on, and was gracious enough to tilt a finger toward me so I had something to latch on to for dear life.

  I shuddered at the odd sensation of my stomach getting left behind when Optimus stood. The shock from each step he took vibrated across his entire body and made my insides rattle like a ping pong stuck in a can. I could feel it in the nerves of my teeth.

  The scenery was incredible from this new vantage point - the tops of the trees were thin enough to see through, providing an unrivalled view of the valley that stretched through the mountain range and to the ocean beyond - but the drop kept me from truly admiring it. I sure hoped Optimus wasn't grossed out by sweat, because my hands were practically dripping.

  I turned my gaze away from the height, instead opting to stare at the piston of his shoulder and try my best not to be overcome by panic. It was a losing battle.

  My focus turned to Optimus' stern face. My heart grew heavy at the reminder of Elita's passing, and then heavier still when I remembered how I'd verbally destroyed him for letting my baby brother be in such close proximity to a war. I knew now that everything the Autobots did was in the best interest of Raf's safety.

  I was laden with guilt. There were much, much worse people out there than Optimus Prime. The last thing he deserved was some overprotective, out of her depth human shouting at him and claiming that he was a bad person. I had to apologise.

  Optimus stared around us as he walked, scanning the scenery for any signs of unsavoury scammers. He didn't seem much for conversation, which was totally fine. I was good with silence - the only reason Ratchet hadn't killed me yet was because I was happy to stay quiet.

  Another minute passed. There wasn't even a distant chirp of a bird. I was far too aware of the sound of my own breathing.

  No, okay. This silence was killing me. I had to break it.

  "Whose stupid idea was it for me to come along?" I said with a crack of a grin. 

  Optimus sent me a sideways, silent look.

  I mourned our mismatched sense of humour. "It was a joke."

  "Ah."

  I dropped my eyes while my cheeks burned with embarrassment. Should've just stayed quiet. Should've stayed at base. Should've kept my cool. Should've done a lot of things differently, but this was the hand that I'd dealt for myself, wasn't it?

  "I never got a chance to apologise about how I spoke to you when we first met," I said quietly. "I'm sorry."

  Optimus glanced at me again. Sheepish, I met his gaze, but I couldn't hold it for longer than three of his ground-shaking steps. It was that quizzical, studying look of his again. It made me feel uncomfortably transparent.

  "You have nothing to apologise for," Optimus said.

  I shook my head. "That's not true. I was being unfair."

  He was quiet for a moment. I wanted to shrivel up and disappear on the breeze from how awkward the conversation made me feel. Did he have to be so benevolent as to not even take an apology?

  Optimus hummed with consideration. "I understand your fear for Rafael. Bee was only online for a few cycles when the war began. Even now, vorns later, I still find myself worrying over him."

  I observed the dents and scratches of the large, blue finger I held on to. "Is he your son?"

  "'Son'?"

  I pursed my lips and thought of a way to explain it. "... someone younger than you. Someone that you look out for and guide, who you keep safe. Someone you never stop fretting over, no matter how old they get."

  He went quiet again. I could practically hear his mindframe ticking over the examples I gave. "Like you and Rafael?"

  My smile was lopsided with contemplation. Sure. I was pretty much his legal guardian except in the eyes of the law. "In a way, I guess."

  "Then yes, I suppose I do consider Bee to be my son," Optimus said.

  I braved myself enough to send him a small smile. "Then the worry we have over our younger counterparts is something we have in common." I paused. "Hey, how long's a vorn?"

  We reunited with Bulkhead before Optimus could respond. The wrecker was standing over the corpse of a purple robot that looked identical to the triplets Bee, Raf and I had encountered in the canals. This one's head was smashed flat.

  He looked up at our approach and smiled with relief. The wrecking ball at the end of his arm transformed back into his hand. The battle was clearly over.

  "Y/n, there you are!" Bulkhead greeted. "Glad you're safe."

  I slowly nodded. My attention kept snatching on the offlined scammer to think about much else. "Is it normal to be attacked like this?"

  "By one vehicon?" Bulkhead asked with disbelief. "Ha! Not even a little bit. We're usually ten-to-one, barely escaping with our sparks-"

  He was cut off by Optimus. "Bulkhead."

  Bulkhead stuttered to silence. "Ah, scrap. Sorry, Y/n. Didn't mean to scare you."

  I quickly shook my head. "I'm not scared."

  Optimus and Bulkhead regarded me with doubt, which was coincidentally the moment I realised I was still shaking. I held my arms in an attempt keep them still. The grin I flashed them didn't convince them much further.

  "How long do you think reinforcements will be?" Bulkhead asked.

  "Not long. We should gather as much energon as we can and leave promptly." Optimus crouched down for me to disembark his hand. I teetered on shaky legs like a baby deer. "Did you locate an alternative entrance?"

  "There's one just 'round the corner."

  "Good. Lead the way."

  Bulkhead took us past a few more trees and around the bend of a slip, where the disturbance had left a gaping hole that led underground. It was tall enough to fit even Optimus, which was fortunate. I doubt him crawling on all fours could count for a speedy mission.

  I stuck my head around Optimus' leg as we all peered inside the cave system. Even though the midday sun beat down directly into the entrance, it still quickly became a dark abyss. The headlights on Bulkhead and Optimus' chests illuminated to life with a startling brightness and chased away the gloom.

  Headlight nipples, my mind supplied. My nose scrunched at the wayward thought.

  "Let us enter," Optimus said, before leading the way inside.

  I stuck cautiously close to the Autobots with their spotlights, afraid that if I was too slow I'd get lost in the dark forever, but also that if I was too close I'd get underfoot and become a splat on the cave floor. Luckily, the Autobots had experience in walking alongside a human.

  We walked until we met a crossroads. Stumped, Bulkhead turned to Optimus with a shrug. The leader pulled out some handheld device from a hook on his waist (was that an in-built holster? Metal) and presented it toward the tunnels. He nodded toward the left. We took the corresponding path.

  It only took another few minutes down an uneven, stalagmite-filled path before we came across some veins of ore that glowed a soft blue in the dimness. Bulkhead got to work with some kind of drill that he'd strapped to his back. Optimus followed the vein along the rock wall with a trace of his fingers.

  "I found the source," he said, before grabbing a tool similar to Bulkhead's from his back and driving the end into the rock.

  I stood at the side and twiddled my thumbs, because the tools were twice the size of me and I couldn't do much else except watch. Small piles began to grow next to Bulkhead and Optimus. My uselessness had never felt so potent.

  I picked up one heavy, glowing rock and held it. There, I could contribute to the cause. The energon-ore seemed to buzz in my arms, as if infused with chemical-induced static.

  "Why is Ratchet so upset about mining these rocks?" I asked.

  Optimus sighed and dislodged another chunk of ore. It dropped to the ground with a heavy clatter and echoed into the silence that continued to linger. Bulkhead answered for me when it was clear the leader wouldn't.

  "We spent fifty cycles mining and rationing our energon due to Sentinel giving it all to the Quintessons, and now we have to mine it again because of the shortage." Bulkhead shook his head. "Just when we thought we'd left that era behind, we found ourselves right back in it."

  "Oh." I struggled between being sympathetic and still entirely confused. I really was trying my best to understand. "That sucks."

  Optimus stood back when the veins had been chipped clear. "We have the energon. Let us-"

  He was cut off by a commotion echoing down the cave system. Voices - loud, nasty commands, tinged with the staticky twang of a Cybertronian accent. Bulkhead and Optimus shared a grim look of understanding. Reinforcements had arrived.

  Oh, great. I held my Cybertronian nightlight tighter and had to remind myself to breathe. Swell idea this was, Y/n.

  "Well, this has been a fascinating field trip," I said with chirpy worry. I turned to send the two Autobots a tight, terrified smile. "Can we go home now?"

  Optimus didn't disagree. "Ratchet, we require a groundbridge."

  Bulkhead and Optimus gathered as much ore into their arms as they could carry. A portal ripped open not a moment later, popping out Bee with some empty crates for the rocks to be dropped in. The echoey voices grew louder as the Decepticons neared.

  Bee somersaulted into the air and transformed, popping open his door and buzzing an order for me to get in the moment his tyres touched the ground. I didn't need to be told twice. Nauseating side effects of teleportation be damned - I'd rather feel sick than be dead.

  Zipping back through the groundbridge at a breakneck pace almost backhanded me with motion sickness (displacement sickness?) and I hunched over my rock of energon from the severity of it. Bee skidding to a tyre-screeching halt didn't help settle my equilibrium.

  Optimus and Bulkhead entered from behind us, each carrying a crate full of glowing blue ore. After making sure I wasn't going to upchuck, I staggered out of Bee's cab so he could transform.

  "Is anyone hurt?" Ratchet asked.

  "We were fortunate enough to make our getaway before being noticed," Optimus answered as he added his crate to the pile. "The Decepticons will be disappointed to find neither us nor the energon they were seeking."

  Ratchet hummed with acknowledgement. The look he sent over the stock of energon was displeased and concerned. The expressions on Bee, Bulk and Optimus' faces were similar.

  Behind the residual wooziness of teleportation, my heart grew heavy at the sombre atmosphere. Now that I'd known the Autobots for a week, I was beginning to feel sympathetic to their plight. I was glad Raf wasn't here to witness their doleful reaction. I really wouldn't be able to take it if he was miserable, too.

  "It's still so little stock," Ratchet wearily muttered. "What are we supposed to do if the Earth runs out of energon ore?"

  I was feeling well enough to lift up my rock. "Here."

  The medic glanced down at me, at my rock, and then scoffed with a roll of his eyes. "Ah, a single facet. We're saved."

  I glared up at him. "I'll keep it, then."

  Ratchet sent me an insulted glower, because I'd noticed that he really wasn't used to someone matching his energy. Our interaction was cut short before he could recriminate by squishing me between his metal toes or calling me some kind of Cybertronian slur that I wouldn't understand.

  "Cease your squabbling," Optimus ordered. He held out his hand for my rock in a wordless request, which I obliged to follow without complaint. "Any fraction of a supply can make a difference."

  I sent Ratchet a bitchy smirk when Optimus wasn't looking. He returned it with a pointed, pissed curl of his lips. Bee noticed the exchange and buzzed a quiet snicker to himself, amused at the ignited vitriol between us.

  "Where is Arcee?" Optimus asked as he turned back toward us, intent on checking the computer station.

  Ratchet quickly dropped his scowl. "In recharge. Like how you should be."

  Optimus typed on the keyboard and pulled up a few more scans on the screen. "I am in suitable condition. Bulkhead, Bee, you should consider recharging."

  Ratchet unhappily huffed. Bee and Bulkhead sent each other an awkward look, sent worried ones to Optimus, before vacating the main hanger with a wave goodbye to me.

  "Suitable condition is not good enough against Megatron," Ratchet said. "If you come up against him in a battle unrested and unprepared - hah. Optimus, we need you at your peak."

  Optimus turned and sent Ratchet a not-quite-there smile. "I am a Prime. I can take more than most. Rest easy, old friend."

  Ratchet gave up with a shake of his head. "You make it impossible."

  I watched as Ratchet retreated from the hanger with a heaviness to his walk as if his exhaustion was dragging like an anchor behind him. Solemn, I slowly ascended the stairs to the human platform. My steps echoed in the now eerily quiet base, intermingled only by the occasional beep of machinery and the clacking of metal fingers over a keyboard.

  Optimus met my stare. I couldn't quite pick what he was thinking from his apathetic eyes, or if he was feeling anything at all. His attention diverted back to the computer before I could make any discernment. He was a mystery - but also, somehow, his situation felt vaguely familiar to my own.

  I dropped my gaze. It seemed that we had more in common than I'd initially thought.