Disclaimer: Transformers Prime is the Intellectual Property of Hasbro Entertainment and in no way is this writing intentionally creating a market or profit off of existing copyright laws.

Chapter 1- A Very Hard Landing

"I know of only one duty, and that is to love."- Albert Camus

The Pain.

That was all she could feel once the sweet embrace of that which was all black suddenly left her unconscious mind. The white searing feeling of being crushed physically by an extremely large force was very present in this rush of physical ailments she began to experience. There was the feeling of ache, or sore, or wounds that have not yet closed and are still fresh and raw; potentially dripping her precious energon for the entire Galaxy to bear witness to.

Panic.

The first reaction her tired and aching helm that held her overworking processor told her to do, and it assisted her body into doing that very thing, very much against its will as it always would. Her processor was always quicker than her conscious mind, a product of what she was raised to be and all that she ever will.

Her processor began to pump he energon in her veins much faster, it began to order her pain receptors to be dulled, it called for emphasis on the senses that were functional at the moment that would help perpetuate her survival in a deadly situation. It was how she was programmed, some bots destroy, while other retreat for their sparks, she was the latter.

Energon Flow.

All of this was screaming at her to run, to get up and never look back, and all before she could even open her optics.

She could not hold the non-consensual groan that fled her mouth as her body began to work itself into over drive, as she began to become more and more aware of her situation. Memories, from before the darkness, began to become clear as the grogginess began to gradually wear off.

The ship, the raid, the Decepticons… The Carriers… Her best friend…

As soon as these things came flooding back in a big wave of images and sounds, she snapped her eyes open and let out a loud shriek of fear, similar to that of a newly formed protoform who was unwillingly separated from its Carrier sooner than it should have been.

As she unconsciously scooted back on whatever surface she was on, to try and make herself seem much smaller than what she was, she gave no time for her optics to tell her processor what was going on around her, and was set to try and remove herself from whatever situation she was in. Whatever surface was holding her ended after a few feet of scooting backwards with a full force she found herself feeling weightless for a single second.

It caused even more panic as she felt herself fall onto a hard and cold surface. That split second of weightlessness mixed with the unknown of how far off her body was truly from the ground cause a fear so great in her that she did not even have a chance to scream again before she reacted without her processor understanding what was going on.

It would have been a funny occurrence, her falling flat on her back onto the dirty floor, had her processor and energon lines not be working in overdrive in order to protect their vessel and spark from whatever threat she has yet to see. The fall caused not only more pain to erupt from her systems, but another involuntary sound to emerge from her lips, as she could taste the energon creating a small pool on the inside of her mouth. It was old energon that had been used in her systems for many cycles, and it left such a bitter taste in her mouth that it made her glossa feel like it was numb.

She could hear faint voices around her, yelling out different things that her processor couldn't understand, as it all sounded so muffled and distant as if the beings were miles away from her. In another attempt of self-preservation, the small femme began to panic and dove underneath the first thing that appeared to make a decent cover from whatever prying optics were around her.

It worked.

Once a few seconds had passed by she was able to get her bearings back, and she found herself underneath a makeshift looking medical berth, it was held up by sturdy enough beams that she used as a shield for her front, while her back was covered by a solid concrete wall. She noticed how dusty the underneath of this medical table was, and was actually silently thanking primus her seniors were not here to see this. Should her paint get scratched or her protoform bruised it would be a hard punishment to bear.

She leaned forward a little as she heard voice again from behind the sheets that hung off of the berth she fell off from, and found herself in a strange new environment she did not recognize. From her small glimpse she could see the room was large, and in a circular shape, it made her a little bit nervous to even think she was no longer on the ship she had been taking refuge on since she was a youngling leaving Cybertron.

She could also see a makeshift medical exam room; it was rather barren with a few counters full of miscellaneous objects that seemed to have no other purpose but to take up the precious space meant for things more important than they could ever hope to be. From her space she could also spot an incline in the floor with big monitors flashing mostly the color green, as they were too far away to read from her position.

She could tell, however, that the symbols were Cybertronian, so she was not captured by an alien race and going to be dissected for future study, which was a plus in her book. Though it concerned her how the writing was familiar, but the technology was not. It appeared very old and primitive compared to what she was used to seeing whenever she got to leave her small housing facility on Cybertron.

She shrank back and retracted her hand from the sheet as if it had burned the armor on her hand enough to feel it through her protoform as soon as a figure obstructed her view of the room around her. She shrank back and let another involuntary whimper escape her vocal processor as she had no idea who this unknown bot could be.

She remembered something being said to her as a youngling being tutored by her elders that Cybertronian have a natural destroy or retreat reflex left over from their tribal days in order to guarantee their survival. She was the unlucky bot with recessive programing to freeze in a danger similar to a proto-deer caught in the headlights of a cargo bot.

The next thing that she knew she could hear this noise, the low rumble and purr of an obviously powerful engine begin to try and sooth her nerves. It was a sound she was very familiar with, as a lot of Carriers use it to calm down fussy Sparklings and Younglings when they begin to get into small fits of anger or sadness.

Before they were separated, her Carrier used the noise on her very often, and the sound brought more comfort than she thought anything ever could, as she began to feel her processor slow down and allow the rest of her sense to catch up with her vulnerable body.

The other Carriers would laugh at her, falling for such a cheap and easy tactic of comfort and affection, but she could not help what she was conditioned to enjoy. A lot of bots couldn't, it was a sheer sound of love and relaxation, a sound that promised no harm would come to the receiver and that they were in a safe place.

Her spark stopped jumping around in its chamber, as her optics began to focus on the figure emitting the soothing sound from behind the sheet. Though she could not see much from her angle, she could tell it was a large Mech; as he bent down slowly to reveal his face plat to her. He wore a soft and comforting expression to show that he meant the smaller femme absolutely no harm.

He must have been a very powerful Mech, capable of a lot of things… be them good or bad. Her Spark jerked a little as her processor feed that thought to it, and she receded a little and shook her head from side to side indicating she did not want to come out from under the berth. At the moment she felt incapable of using auditory language, and reverted to using physical means to display a message of uncomforting distress.

She saw his faceplate falter slightly, but he fixed it quickly and gave a small sigh and retracted from the small space she was under. She felt he braced himself a little using the berth above her head as it creaked under his massive weight. His shaking must have caused something to fall, as she felt a foreign object touch the small of her back.

She involuntarily yelped and jerked away from the sensation on her back, and that was enough of a chain reaction for her processor to re activate her pain receptor, it was probably the most pain she has ever experienced physically. She had no more power to yelp or cry, but to instead wince loudly and lower herself into a more relaxing sitting position on the floor.

She finally looked down and noticed a lot of dings and dents in her outer armor, all deep and debilitating enough to jab at her bruised and sensitive protoform. She winced as she moved to touch one of the very bad dents located on her chest plate, and began to feel really anxious about how her chassie and leg struts were looking. She began to feel very anxious about her appearance and was not looking forward to the punishment by her seniors.

They would tell her it was fitting for someone like her to look like this, a dusty and dirty ding up hunk of metal that had no place in their world. She would have the dings buffed out enough to where she could move, and left to look like a slob and set for display for the other Carriers to mock and be wary of at the same breath of language.

"Optimus, we can't just leave her under there! She has very serious injuries that need to be looked at immediately."

A voice.

One she had no idea whom it belonged to, but it sounded very upset with the situation. There was more than one mech up there, and she had no idea how to process that information. Was he like the bigger mech, whom was capable of a lot of destruction? She had no real interest in finding out herself, and would be ok just sitting under this dusty berth were that the case.

"We cannot force her either, she already does not trust easily."

Another Voice.

It was demanding, yet somehow retained a certain respectful air to the tone and pitch. Hard, but had a sort of softness underlying the sounds in which they spoke the words. A natural leader, someone programed for great things no doubt.

"If we don't force her, she could potentially die. I didn't get a chance to do a scan for internal injuries!"

She has appeared to have cause another argument.

"I understand, Ratchet, but won't forcing her cause more injuries should she struggle?"

"Maybe someone else can try and coax her out?"

A new voice.

A voice that had experience, pride, and held a little bit of a pushy attitude attached to the vocal sounds that seemed to seep through the processor it originated from. The pitch sounded rather feminine to her, but she has learned her lesson the hard way that voice pitch means little to a bots given body type.

As soon as the voices stopped, she felt herself recoil a little bit more, they were trying to trick her into coming out of her hiding spot. Were they having a private Comm communication so she could not hear whatever it is they were planning on doing with her?

Before more anxious thoughts could reach her processor, she saw a figure stand in front of the berth she was under. It was much, much smaller than the last, as she could see all the way up to their mid chest area. Along with the fact there was relatively no struggle, without the use of the berth for a brace, to kneel down and show her their face plate.

They were a yellow and black Mech, with a mask to cover his face so that nothing but his interesting and under developed optics shown through the slightly dark area of her hiding spot. He undenounced cast a small blue glow under her hiding spot, and she found it somewhat comforting to see the color of blue over red. She was always told uncorrupted bots had optics the color of pure grade energon and that they can always be trusted.

She felt herself coming loose in his presence; there was something comforting about this bot that she could not seem to place. He was young, around the same cycle age as her, and his soft expression spoke volumes to her spark to calm the sporadic movements that were being made in its chamber.

As he too attempted to make the low rumble and purr of his engine to try and soothe her as the mech before him did. He, instead, ended up making a loud revving noise, and she couldn't stop the smile on her face as his expression dropped and the sound of collective groans emerged from around the room. It was the sign she needed to know that everything was going to be ok.

The feeling of curiosity is stronger than that of fear; at least, it is to her. She has always found herself in many bad situations and trouble because her processor absolutely needed to know what was puzzling it so much. One would think she would have learned her lesson, but, as most instructors would say, some lessons just don't seem to process in a Bots processor.

The Mech turned to look behind him, slightly embarrassed and listening to the small protests from around the room, as she felt herself grow more curious as she begin to lean forward a little. Her shaking had stopped, so it was easier to have control over her battered and bruised form without causing more harm to herself. She wasn't sure what her arm was reaching for, but she let her servo reach out towards the strange young Mech in front of her.

He turned his head quickly, and she snapped back in fear and held her servo close to her chest, as if he was going to lash out and hit her. He too began to use physical language to break the barrier between them and allowed for his face plate to drop in regret for moving too quickly and frightening her away.

She saw him shift a little in his spot in front of her, as he was almost lying on the ground in front of her while still giving her enough space to scoot away should she want to. He held his servo a little in front of her, still giving her enough room to reject him should she feel the need to. A classis sign of submission used by bigger mech to show they are not a threat to their smaller counterparts.

Her processor was telling her not to trust him, but her spark was taking in all the kind and small gestures he was performing and doing small flips in its chamber. It was telling her this was not a bad bot, and he held a certain air about him that was similar to that of someone that has always treated her fairly in her life span.

Slowly, and with a shaky servo, she reached out and touched his with a small brush of her finger tips. She retracted a little, and when he didn't respond to her small touch, she decided it was ok to place her smaller servo into his flipped one, palm up to welcome her with a warm piece of armor plating.

She grasped at his wrist lightly, and waited for him to respond, and he did not leave any window of doubt to his intentions. He gave a small tug and a little pressure on her wrist in turn, silently asking for her to come out from her hiding place, and wordlessly communicate that this was a safe place for her to be, that she could trust him and all the bots that were in the room.

She went with her spark on this one, and let it lead her slowly out from under the berth as this Mech gently helped to pull her up onto her shaky peds once her form was emerged from under her hiding place. She stumbled forward a little, and he held his arms out to catch her should she need it, and the gesture alone really sent a good message to her processor.

He was Trustworthy.

For her whole existence, actions and physical communicate have always been the best form of communication and understanding for her. She was not very good at expressing words or comprehension of most things, but she has always had a good sense of morality, along with good optics to read what other bots silently tell her through body language.

"Good job, Bumblebee." The demanding voice praised the young Mech she found herself unconsciously leaning into as he continued to hold her smaller servo in his.

This was the mech from earlier, the very large and powerful one who demanded your respect by simply placing his optics on you. Seeing him now in such close proximity was intimidating, she was very small in comparison and it sent signals to her processor to be wary of him.

Before more words could be exchanged, another bot, a Mech of White and Red-Orange, began to quickly make his way over to the small duo that stood just in front of the berth she first awoke on. It triggered her in a way, as an unknown bot making their way into her space without any indication of intention absolutely terrified her.

She tried to hide, like she always did, though instead of under she chose to be behind the young mech that was still holding her servo in his warmer one. She fell below his shoulders, so she easily dissolved from view behind this juvenile and caring bot. He shifted his servos as well to place on onto her side to try and communicate that everything was alright.

"Maybe try coming over a little slower, Ratchet?" The Young Mech, Bumblebee scolded as she felt his field flare up with protective intent.

His voice.

Or rather, there was no voice.

It was static, static mixed with a series of beeps and jingles that held not enough emotion for her to interoperate well enough on their own. His blips were that of Cybertronian Morse code, a simple way for bots with no voice box to communicate without much stress on their most likely already damaged systems.

"Apologize for trying to save her life!" Ratchet huffed as he pulled out a scanning device as he attempted to push Bumblebee out of the way enough for him to scan her body to see if he could identify any major fuel line leakage.

Bumblebee, she could tell he was a good Mech, silently asked her permission as he turned slightly in her direction enough so she could read the expression on his faceplate. He was empathetic, and could tell that she would rather read faces and emotions rather than hear words and empty promises. He was similar in that way, he preferred silent communicating over his broken voice whenever it was possible.

The little femme looked up at the medic she deduced to be Ratchet, as if to try and find a hidden motive behind what he was trying to really do to her besides a simple scan. She has never had a good track record with medics, and she could not count the number of times on her fingers the complications there were between them and her fellow Carriers.

She was unable to identify anything but a deep concern and helpfulness radiating from the Medic's EM Field, and his pushy behavior really only meant to get his job done quickly. It was a trait most medically trained professionals had, a rush and eagerness to serve and heal others around them.

She stepped a little away from the young slowly, and with purpose in each of her small steps. She wanted to feel safe, and safety was only processing when she was around the younger mech she had learned to trust.

Once she stood enough away from him, but still close enough to jump back should she need to, Ratchet began his scan that took a little too long for her liking. Full body scans always made her feel uncomfortable, as it made one feel like any bot could just read into her body and find all the small things wrong with them.

The small blue opaque light slid up and down the surface of her armor while the machine beeped quietly to indicate what type of reading the machine was reading. The light was beautiful in its own right, as it helped many medical staff to find what was wrong internally, but it could only point out the physical flaws and completely skipped over that which was mental.

As soon as the machine was shut off, she jumped back and hid her small form behind the yellow and black mech, as he looked down to her and she saw him smile thankfully with his brightly lit optics. He appeared to her as such a kind and gentle spark, someone with no secrets and a genuine love for his fellow bots around him. His optics and expressions will always speak louder than any words he could squeak out would, as it was with most Cybertronians.

"Good news, it's not as bad as I suspected." Ratchet began "For someone who crashed here in an escape pod, you're lucky."

She stopped.

Escape Pod?

Was that how she got here? She can't seem to recall anything beyond now, past the small images and sounds that startled her awake a few moments ago. Vaguely she can remember an incident… Was there fire? There was definitely yelling and screaming…

She jumped as her thoughts were interrupted by the young bots sudden movements that made her spark jump in her chamber a little, but she let air flow through her vents as she realized it was just him turning to look at her with a little concern.

It caught her off guard, and she flinched a little from the small pain caused by her placing her servos together near her chest, as she looked up at him with confused optics. She was remembering some things, and it caused her energon to flow faster again, as the anxiety began to set in more and more.

Where is Rivulets? Where was her best friend Rivulets?

Her optics grew as she realized a little what happened to her before her crash landing wherever she was. Her processor telling her that he was dead and her spark telling it to be quiet and that they just messed up and got lost somehow. Her spark was screaming louder than her processor ever could, and she began to blame herself for something she had no control over.

Bumblebee noticed her optics begin to gloss over a little with rapid spouts of shaking and twitching beginning to flow through her smaller frame. From what he could tell she was reliving a terrible memory, as it was something he has seen in warrior bots having flash backs to traumatic battles.

That was when he noticed something so small but a big cause of concern.

"Ratchet?" the young mech beeped as he began moving his servos slowly on the smaller femme's shoulders, to show he was concerned about her and attempt to keep her calm. "Her optics are pale, is there something wrong?"

"Energon deficiency." He said simply as he typed away on a data pad he had in his servos "Results of ingesting old or nutritionally inefficient Energon over a long course of time."

"How long have you been in that escape pod, little one?" The big mech, the one with a demanding voice asked. He was obviously their leader, as when he spoke everyone around stopped to turn and hear what he had to say.

She shrugged as she came back from whatever it was she was trying to remember, and it was with honesty, as she was not sure what was even happening in the present moment anymore. She vaguely remembers feeling trapped in a small space with no hope of escape… but she doubted it was from the escape pod, as literal tight spaces don't bother her. It is always mental tight spaces that affected her more than anything physical.

The feeling of being trapped inside one's own head, on a loop that seemed to never end of bad and toxic thoughts that the processor subjected itself too. Her loops were always the same thoughts of uselessness, ungratefulness, and undesirability. Always the terrible three things that make her wish she had never been sparked in the first place.

"We traced your escape pod to its landing position once it broke through Earth's atmosphere." The bigger bot began to explain "Once we arrived, you were unconscious and buried underneath the wreckage. Any files inside the ship were lost, so we ask you for any details you may remember."

She stalled, and felt herself lean into the young mech in front of her for more physical support, she felt so tired all of the sudden. The Mech was more than happy to oblige her need for physical comfort, as he knows how important kindness and warmth can be too many bots in bad situations. He would sometimes also wish for more physical affection at times, but he was a warrior class bot, and should not be allowed to feel such trivial needs such as comfort and physical affection.

She began to shake and tremble again as feelings of anxiety and severe stress began to invade her processor once again. Her spark was thrashing in its chamber as it was reacting to what her processor was telling her body to react to. She had no idea why she was feeling this way, and maybe it was better off her memory core was drawing a blank at the moment.

Bumblebee, the young mech she felt a connection too, took immediate action in turning his body closer while holding her close. While she was burying her helm completely in his arms, covering her from the stresses of the outside world as she felt the sting of leaking from her optics in the form of tears. Allowing her a both physical and mental place to hide, he was also in turn trying to establish a silent relationship with the little femme. He will show that he can be her shelter and shield form any and all forms of anything that might prove to be too much of a challenge for her to handle alone.

He had no idea why he was trying so hard to keep this little femme calm, he had no idea who she was or where she even came from. It was outside of his programming as a warrior to be as comforting as he has been, but he let his body do what he felt was right to try and calm her before she had another break down like before.

Her venting began to slow, her spark began to calm, and her processor began to relax. She felt herself slowly stop shaking, and she was grateful for the comfort of physical contact. She closed her optics and took a deep vent in through all of her working systems and began to relax a little with the soothing void that lay behind her closed lids.

The darkness…

The comfort of quiet and nothing, it was not always a sign of pain and disorientation, as most times to some bot like her it was a sign of the quiet and serenity her small world had to offer. It was a comfort and promises that there will be a light soon to follow the seemingly endless black void, but for the moment you are there is that of peace and time to think, and enjoy the lasting silence surrounding.

It took a few minutes for her to completely calm, the Medic informing the leader that it is best for the femme to relax and rest and be patched up before she delves into a potentially painful and repressed situation. The rest of the bots agreed, and dispersed to continue with whatever it was that they have been assigned to do.

Bumblebee did not let go of her until the shaking was completely halted, and her vents stopped releasing large intakes of air. It was a relief once he saw her re open her dimly lit optics to look up at him with this certain serenity and peace as if she had nothing wrong with her at all.

The medic, Ratchet, asked for her to return to the berth so that he may begin working the dents out of her armor plating that he doubted were very comfortable to bear. She agreed, but continued to hold onto the one thing that promised comfort in this unknown place she found herself. She could hear the begrudged medic remark about how much of a problem she was going to be as she pulled Bumblebee along to follow her to the berth from earlier.

This also brought her comfort, in a little ways; this grumpy mech who had a concern for her wellbeing so much that he would scold her harshly for her bad behaviors reminds her of someone she used to know on Cybertron. He, too, was always upset when bots placed themselves in danger for no reason and allowed his concern to show not through kindness, but anger and distraught frustration. It was poetic, in a way, they care so much that it surfaces not as calm and kindness, but frustration and huffiness.

She felt a little better, making that comparison, and let go of Bumblebee enough to allow her to be pulled up onto the berth as the uncomfortable process began. It was both relieving and uncomfortable to have the dents no longer causing pressure on not only her protoform, but her joints she had no idea were sore until some nasty bent metal was reshaped into its original form.

"Thank you." She squeaked out as soon as Ratchet turned around and she was able to grab Bumblebee's arm yet again, he was kind enough to not leave her side while the medic worked on her small frame. She curled up while pulling her legs up to her chest and looking around with a little caution in her optics again.

"Your welcome" He said distantly as he began doing what seemed to be a medical record on the same data pad from before "do you remember your designation?"

"Yes." She replied while gripping Bumblebee a little tighter, and he relaxed his arm to allow her the flexibility of pressure should she need it. She was not squeezing tight enough to cause him any kind of pain. "I am designation Dulcet, of Carrier faction K-3-98."

Bumblebee stalled as soon as the words left her mouth, as he watched Ratchet just type away on his data pad probably putting away her designation and faction away for later usage. He wasn't fazed at all to find that this femme was a carrier, but it was both a scary and amazing revelation to be had. In fact, it caught everyone's attention in the room to stop all conversation to pay attention to their conversation.

They all presumed the carriers dead, after the Decepticons bombed all of their sectors in the cities around Cybertron, whether they were Autobots or neutrals. He had heard about a few factions fleeing off planet before they could be destroyed, but communications was lost with all vessels very quickly, and most bots lost hope that any carriers made it very far without energon supplies or military support.

He was always told carriers were at the bottom of the priority list behind Sparklings and younglings but he had no idea why. Carriers are the only bots around that can create Protoforms without the use of the Allspark, and no one has seen or heard wind of the life giving crystal in so many cycles that everyone was starting to lose hope for the repopulation of Cybertron.

"Just as I though, a small and weak carrier… but a carrier none the less-" Ratchet said as he looked up from his pad, putting it away in his subspace compartment.

"… What are you going to do with me?" She interrupted with an almost dead pan tone, while releasing all pressure she place on Bumblebee's arm. This caused him to panic a little, as he was shocked at this sudden change in the otherwise very jumpy and scared femmeling.

He couldn't place his finger on what suddenly changed in her, but he saw almost all the life leave her optics and be replaced with what looked like a barricade to whatever trust and comfort she may have has between her and the rest of the bots in the room.

"For now, nothing" Ratchet began as he reached over into a box nearby to grab a rather small portion of cubed energon. He shifted all around his make shift med bay as he began to mix and pour different things Bumblebee couldn't identify into the small cube.

He began to shake the cube of energon roughly, changing it from the normal brilliant blue color into a dull pink that matched her armor color to a tee. Bumblebee has never seen Ratchet do this before, and felt compelled to ask what he was doing with a perfectly good cube of energon.

"Well, what are you doing now?" Bumblebee beeped out as he watched Ratchet turn towards them rather quickly, which cause Dulcet to jump and grab onto his arm again.

She might have lost trust with Ratchet, but not with Bumblebee.

"Creating a very mineral rich Energon mixture for our friend here, her levels are dangerously depleted and this will fill her tanks enough not to make her sick while giving her the nutrients her body is craving." Ratchet began "It will also help her self repair programs to come back and finish some of the repairs I wasn't able to get too."

It was a good enough answer for Bumblebee, as he took the rather small cube from the medic and handing it over to the tiny femme that was clinging to him harder the closer the medic got to them. As she took the cube she gave it an odd look and held off on drinking it for a minute to decide whether or not she really needed it. It made Bumblebee a little antsy, watching her examine the fluid; she obviously needed it and was in dire need of nutrition.

Finally, however, she slowly began to drink the small amount in little sips, as to not force her body to take what it can't process. She had no idea this medic knew the compound for carriers, let alone the compound needed to keep her healthy. Carriers needed more protein in their diets than other bots to help them grow Protoforms in their gestation chambers, and she was certain carrier care was a very specific practice on Cybertron.

Once the cube was empty, Ratchet took the husk and put it back in its original place near his work station, as well as separate some other containers of compounds that looked really familiar to her in some way.

"Bumblebee, it would be best if you stayed here with her for a while" Ratchet explained "I feel like I don't need to explain the importance as of why"

"I will take care of it, Ratch." Bumblebee exclaimed while nodding his head at the Autobot Medic, as this was now a mission that he was not going to fail.

"Good, I need to speak with Optimus about this and see if we can get to the bottom of this." Those were the final words spoken once he left the general facility of the medical corner of this smallish base.

After he and Optimus the others began to dissipate into their own lives to continue doing whatever it was that they decided was important. Their curiosity would have to wait to be fulfilled until Ratchet and the Prime figured out what to do with her.

No words needed to be said as she began to cuddle up closer to Bumblebee, whom only returned her affection with just as much force. She was safe here, carrier or not, he would make sure she would be kept safe and happy.

Not because it was his programming telling him to, but because it was the right thing to do. Not because of whom she is and what she is able to accomplish that the rest of them were unable to do.

This was something completely out of nowhere that I really really needed to get out of my brain. I wasn't going to publish it but I think I can make something from this little thing.

EDIT 8/15/16- Completely rewritten to make more sense and read better as a whole chapter without jumping around and sounding like repetitions. (The other chapter is currently being re written as well)