Biggest change to this one was the addition of the Optimus scene at the end, to make up for taking him out of earlier chapters. Also, Riella is less emotional.

Chapter 15: A Friend In Need

Chromia glided down the hall, searching for one of her sisters. Ironhide was out on assignment with Major Lennox, and she was bored. Maybe she could convince Arcee or Moonracer that a 'Con hunt was just the way to spend a dull afternoon.

"Chromia! Are you busy?"

She sighed internally and turned to face Prowl, hoping the tactician wouldn't need her to do something. "No, I'm not."

Prowl nodded, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "I believe you heard what happened this morning with Riella?"

"Who didn't?" The femme's shouting match with Ratchet, over her perceived loss of abilities, had been all over the base.

"I am not emotionally compromised!" Riella glared up at the medic, blue optics blazing and jaw locked.

Ratchet barked right back at her. "Slag yes you are! Enough with the dramatics, kid. Quit acting like you're the only one with a problem!"

"Is anyone else losing to Stunticons?" Riella snapped, slamming one hand down on the table and denting it. "No? Then maybe there truly is something wrong!"

Down the hall, Lennox glanced at Epps. "Ten bucks says she wins the argument."

"You're on."

Unfortunately for their bet, Riella had stormed out and slammed the door right about then, so there was no verdict on who won. Chromia shrugged. "So she's ticked at Ratchet."

"Yes." Prowl gritted his jaw, a mannerism very similar to Riella's. "Have you seen her since?"

Chromia thought about it, but already knew the answer. "No. Is she missing?"

Prowl shook his head. "She has not left the base, so technically, no. But no one has seen her since then. I suspect she found somewhere quiet to be angry at the world, but…"

"But what?" Chromia pointed a finger at him. "So your mate's acting like a sparkling. Find her and tell her that."

The tactician winced. "About that. She's blocking the bond. And when we discussed it earlier…"

"She got mad and now you're sharing a bunk with Jazz." Chromia rolled her optics. "Fine. I'll do it myself. Mechs."

She started off in the direction of Riella's office, ignoring Prowl's reply. "That is not what's happening – Chromia!"

Riella wasn't in her office, or her bedroom. That figured. Primus slaggit, femme. When you drop your emotion filter, you really drop it.

Chromia finally found Riella on the shooting range in robot mode, taking out target after target viciously. She watched for a moment before speaking.

"Well?"

"Twenty-eight thirty," Riella muttered, blowing the head off another Megatron-shaped target. "Twenty-nine thirty-one."

"Not bad," Chromia shrugged, folding her arms across her chest and locking her wheel-foot into place.

Riella slammed another round into her arm cannon. "Not good either."

Of course. Chromia grimaced. "And this standard is from…"

"Me." Another target shattered.

Chromia sighed. "Thirty thirty-two would have put you in the top quarter at the Academy."

Riella turned to glare briefly at her friend. "This is war, not the Academy. I used to have a steady ten-ten average."

"So you're down to slightly more normal again." Chromia decided to clean her own arm cannon so she wouldn't have to keep staring at Riella's back. "I know bots that would kill for a nine-ten."

"Don't you have something else to do?"

That did it. Chromia grabbed Riella's gun arm and spun her around, planting her free hand on the smaller femme's shoulder and pushing her into the wall. "Shut the hell up and listen to me! You need to quit whining right now. The planet doesn't depend on your shot average being one point higher! So get a grip, femme. Do you want Bluestreak to come to Earth and find you like this? Huh?"

Riella didn't say anything, so Chromia kept going. "I didn't think so. Now, you are going to go find Ratchet and let him check you out, and then you are going to patch things up with Prowl. Or I'm going to want to know why. Deal?"

Riella's optics flickered a shade lighter, and she gasped in pain. Chromia let go instantly. "Frag it, Riella! Why didn't you tell me I was hurting you?"

"Not your fault," Riella snapped, pulling herself upright. The gritted sound in her voice indicated she hadn't stopped hurting. "I'll talk to them." With no further comment, she turned her back on Chromia and left. Chromia sighed, staring after her friend in frustration.

Riella stalked down the hall into the base, half-wanting to pretend the conversation with Chromia had never happened. Of course, she wouldn't get away with that. Chromia would check to make sure Riella had kept her promise to talk to Ratchet and Prowl, and if she didn't, the other femme would flip a gasket.

Her logic center reminded her that it wasn't Chromia, Ratchet, or Prowl's fault she was struggling, and therefore it was wrong to be angry at them. Still, if they were going to ignore her concerns, didn't she have a right to be angry?

No. No one ignored you. You became attached to one idea and wouldn't drop it. They tried to explain, and you wouldn't listen.

Sometimes Riella hated her logic center.

She stumbled slightly, catching her ankle on a crate someone had left in the hall, and winced as pain shot from her back down to her injured leg. With a groan, she sat down, back to the wall, and rested her forehead in one hand. What is wrong with me?

"Riella, are you all right?"

Optimus. Riella winced and looked up at the Prime, staring down at her with a slightly confused expression. "Yes, sir."

"Are you sure?" Optimus held out a hand to help her up. She didn't want to accept, but a twitch from her leg suggested that getting up by herself would hurt. She took his hand, which was practically big enough to wrap around hers twice, and let him pull her upright.

"Thank you." Riella looked down at the floor, debating whether or not to tell him. "I…I don't know." Suddenly, against every logical thought in her processor, she couldn't stop herself from talking. "I lost, Prime. To a Stunticon."

Optimus arched a brow ridge slightly and nodded. "No one blames you, Riella – Motormaster has proven capable enough to be a challenge to much stronger Autobots."

Riella grimaced. "That is…not reassuring. I have not lost like that in years." To her embarrassment, she felt her voice crack slightly. "Do you still trust me as a member of your team?"

"Of course." Optimus looked at her in surprise. "Riella, I choose who to trust by their character, not their skill. You should know that. I trust you as a member of my team because you are intelligent and loyal. And even if I did choose based on combat ability, one loss is not nearly enough to disqualify you." He frowned. "If I used that standard, even I would no longer be a member of the team. Is that what your…outburst toward Ratchet was about?"

A blush spread up Riella's cheeks, and she stared at the floor, too embarrassed to look at him. "…Yes, sir. I apologize. I understand it was out of line -"

"Riella." Optimus placed a hand on her shoulder gently. "Look at me."

She did, and was relieved to see no hint of anger or disappointment on his face. His only emotions, either through telepathy or visible in his optics, were concern for a friend and absolute belief in what he was about to say.

"You need not fear losing your place among us, Riella. We may be on an organic planet, but you are one of us, and have been even since before you became technorganic. No matter what happens, that will not change. You are an Autobot."

Riella blinked back unexpected tears. The Prime's reassurance had touched on a fear she hadn't even admitted to herself. "Thank you…Optimus."

"You are welcome." Optimus nodded and patted her shoulder once before turning to go. As an afterthought, he turned back. "Might I suggest a civil discussion with Ratchet? Sooner rather than later."

Riella half-smiled. "Yes, sir. I'm on my way." Prowl, too. Gradually, she opened the bond again. Prowl wasn't actively blocking her, but he wasn't really listening either. It hurt, but really, she had to admit she had it coming.

Prowl, if you can hear me…I'm so sorry.