"Ratchet..." The name escaped Arcee's lips as she stared out at the green and blue orb before her. If the femme had the strength to do so, she would currently be shaking, but the painkillers and stabilizers that had been administered to her throughout the years for her mind and leg prevented that gift. She'd oftentimes thought it sad that so many took movement for granted. That's what she'd felt in her bedridden existence: sadness, never bitterness. She just didn't have it in her to be that way.

The medic had become a sort of guiding light to her, one that she had felt herself deeply missing for fifty stellar cycles, leaving her to stumble around in the dark. Unfortunately, when Arcee finally was given the chance to see him again, a Primus-given gift in her opinion, she hadn't had the opportunity to say a word. Perhaps it wasn't so much a miracle that First Aid had just given her a strong painkiller right before Ratchet burst in. Then again, she highly doubted that he would have wanted to see her writhing in pain. More than anything, Arcee wanted him here with her. She felt so afraid, surrounded by Decepticons without a way to defend herself, and these mechs were chomping at the bit to strip her apart for some access codes that she supposedly knew.

Arcee shuttered her optics. Perhaps she had at one point, but Ratchet had never told them to her. He either hadn't known about their existence himself, or he had been concealing them from her to protect her. Most of her memories were still blacked out, but recently she had been retrieving a few from when she was young. Still, none of those memories mattered now. She felt as if that femme was a stranger to her. That femme didn't know what it was like to live with pain. That femme didn't know what it meant to have a true friend...and someone more. Slowly, she reached back into her processor, and retrieved that golden treasure, a memory that wasn't lost, fuzzy, or strange to her. Arcee let herself drift into its warm and comforting embrace, the cruel voices, piercing as blades, die away.

XXXXXX

A younger Arcee awoke to a bright light, blinding her for a moment. The beeping and humming of various machines echoed in her audio receptors. She shuttered her optics with a squeak of fear, overwhelmed by her surroundings. A gentle servo laid itself upon hers. "Easy, soldier. You're safe here."

With an effort, she turned her head to see a red and white mech standing next to where she was lying. Seeing as how her vision couldn't pick up his stabilizing servos, Arcee guessed that she was on top of a raised platform. The mech was gazing down at her with concern in his turquoise optics. Above them was a red chevron, with one side of it badly cracked. The cosmetic imperfection jogged something in her processor.

"Y-you're Ratchet," she whispered, remembering his servos carefully leading her through a black valley, peppered with fire and light storms, until she felt too tired to continue. The same servos had carried her the rest of the way. Arcee would have wondered if it had been only a dream, but something was making her mind run a little slowly.

A warm smile formed on his face, and she heard him mutter, "Thank Primus."

"Who's Primus?" She asked softly, confused at the unknown name.

He waved his free hand. "I'll tell you later. Right now, I need you to answer a question for me, okay?"

"Nothing will happen if I get it wrong, right? I don't feel like myself."

"Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you. You're just feeling a little out of it because you were given something to relieve pain."

"Pain," she repeated, remembering how hard it had felt to walk through that valley. She had stumbled a few times, but she had also never fallen with Ratchet's servos strictly guarding her every movement.

"Now, here's the question," Ratchet's voice pulled her out of her reverie, "What's your name?"

"My name?" She could feel it tugging against the edge of her self-conscious.

She asked, "May I have a moment please?"

She could feel his fingers softly tighten on her servo as he replied, "Of course."

Turning her processor to look up at the gray ceiling, the former intelligence officer reached back through the haze in her mind as quickly as she could before it completely overtook her. Wait...Haze, that was it! Her mind had felt this way when she became too tired to walk, and Ratchet had carried her, saying, "Come on, just a little bit more. We're almost there, Ar—"

Ar-something. What was the ending of the word? She felt a thumb run over her servo as she puzzled this over. Her optics widened. "Arcee," she replied weakly, glancing back over at him.

Ratchet's grip released. A look of relief was on his face. "You did it."

"Ratchet, can I rest now? I'm tired," Arcee requested, smiling as she settled herself more comfortably against the berth.

"Sure. Rest all you need to, Arcee. You deserve it."

"But all I did was answer a question," she replied with a yawn.

"You did a lot more than that, but I'll have to tell you later. I doubt you'll be awake for most of it," he joked, removing his servo from the berth, and turning to leave the room.

Arcee felt fear flash through her. "Wait, you'll come back, right?"

He returned to her side, and took her servo in his again. "I'll be there when you wake up." His tone indicated that he would hold himself true to that oath.

"Thank you." She again shuttered her optics to prepare for recharge, and felt his metallic lips press against the side of her faceplate as she did so.

XXXXXX

Back on board Omega Supreme, Arcee felt it hard to hold back a cry. Would she lose that memory too when they opened her for all to see? Ratchet had treated her as if she was important as herself, and not as a vessel for information. It would shatter her spark if she lost her memory's warmth.

As she heard a pair of stabilizing servos head in her direction, she looked up bravely to stare Megatron, an Autobot's worst nightmare, in the faceplate. With a malicious grin, he whispered, "How very easy this shall be."

"I'll be there when you wake up." Ratchet's words echoed inside of her processor. Arcee could only hope that she would be awakening to his voice after coming out from under the knife. He had failed her once, and she knew that it would destroy him if he did so again.