Something you should know about people: they're not always who you think they are. Sometimes this is a jarring and unnerving experience.

I sincerely apologize for the longer than usual wait. Time honestly got away from me and life was a pain in the ass. I planned on writing three chapters as Christmas treat for you all, but I had to choose between writing important essays or writing more of the fic. So here, after all, is the new entry. Expect another one either on the 31st or the first week of the new year.

[~]

I'm not always like this
It's something I've become
A terrible weakness
In my nature, in my blood
Save me, oh save me, save me from myself
Before I hurt somebody else again

Domino motion jump starts when we touch
The blackout approaching
Here it comes now, wish me luck
It's all over, it's all over, it's all over in a flash
I can't remember
What have I done now?

Go, go faster, wider
More, more get it down you
Dance, dance take me over

~ "Glittering Cloud," Imogen Heap

[~]

Chapter XXXVIII: I Heard You

She heard sounds all around her, muddled, incoherent, impossible to place. Her optics blurred as they opened, but just like her hearing, eventually cleared.

"She's waking up; I need everyone to move away." Ratchet. Of course. Ever attentive Ratchet.

She blinked and saw the nervous medic steadying her with both servos on her shoulders. Over his frame she saw the entire gaggle of her companions, plus the three humans, looking at her expectantly, worriedly.

With a growl, she heaved herself upwards, trembling at first then straightening herself to full height, "do you mind? I'm not some exhibit that you can all gawk at whenever you feel like it."

"What happened? One klik you were up and talking, then you just—" She cut Bulkhead off with a flippant wave of her servo.

"I know just as much as you do, which is nothing." Coming out here was a mistake. She should just get whatever bearings she had left and leave, hole herself up in there until they keep their distance. She huffed, agitated, and began to walk away.

Arcee, please," Bumblebee pleaded, reaching his servo out to grab hers, please don't shut us out. We'll listen to anything you have to say; we don't care how bad it was. We won't judge—

She whipped her wrist out of his grasp and backhanded him hard across his face. She had to admit, there was a wondrous thrill of power that came with it.

And that power is rightfully mine.

"Who do you think you are to touch me like that?! Do you even know who I am?!" Nothing but aghast stares. What a joke. "Well, do you!? You all care so much about me!"

"Arcee, I need you to try and ground yourse—" She could feel the fire in her glare as it silenced Ratchet. They wanted her to talk? She'll talk.

"I am the Scion of Ventus Prime, the Winglord of the Skies! I am the Crown Prince to the Vosian throne, and I refuse to be order around by some, some heirless grounders with no idea what I've gone through or what I have to bear for the rest of my function. Now, if you would all kindly give me the space I need, I will tend to my own mental health."

She was more than ready for them to follow her and give some sort of overwrought plead for her to do something that made them feel better about themselves. They didn't.

Hopefully locking herself away would send the message.

[~]

"I have to say, Prime, I'm a bit blindsided," Fowler said, a sardonic grin forming on his face. "Starscream is a member of Cybertronian royalty! To be honest…I'm surprised I didn't guess that before, with the way he holds himself."

"I know, right?! We should have seen that a few hundred thousand lightyears away," Miko shrugged and looked at Bulkhead. "But in a weird way, it's kinda cool! You think that Airachnid's a princess? Or Breakdown's a duke?"

"I highly doubt that, Miko." he grumbled.

"Cybertron as a whole did not have a monarchy," Optimus explained, "we had the Senate and Council. His people were largely separated from the rest of the planet."

"Isolationists…but why?" Folwer crossed his arms.

"I do not know everything about Starscream or his fallen home, only that he was the next in line to rule Vos, the name of is polity-kingdom."

Raf adjusted his glasses and he thought deeply about this revelation. "Optimus, why didn't you tell us this before?"

He paused for a moment, then spoke, "as tedious as an answer this may be, it is because it was not relevant to our mission."

Fowler relaxed a bit as he began to fully digest everything he had leaned. "Still, it's an interesting bit of information, Definitely makes me look at Starscream a whole new way. Did anyone else know this?"

Silence and shrugs were his answer, and he took that as a chance to change the subject. "So…about Arcee. Are you sure there's nothing that I can do to help?"

"Time, Agent Fowler. Time and patience."

Throughout the exchanges Jack was silent. There we so many things he wanted to ask, so many things he wanted to do. His eyes were nearly glued to hallway where Arcee exited, knowing that following her wouldn't be a good idea yet straining himself not to.

[~]

Venus Prime…the youngest of the Thirteen. A sixed winged force of nature, he who turned the skies against Unicron, he who built foundations in the clouds themselves.

He who took his many children away from a world who could not accommodate them and gifted them all with a place to call home.

The origins of the royal line, of Vos itself, has been told to her since sparklinghood. She and her brothers had been taught about each of Ventus Prime's offspring, how the greatest of them was crowned sovereign of Vos, how she was part of that unbroken line.

Unbroken…

His people were free from constricting roads and wheels; they were blessed with wings that brought more advantages than any other mode of transportation. With each passing generation Vos flourished on its own. It had no need for assistance or allies; the blessings of the city's natural resources were all they could ever need.

No matter how it was repeated, the message was clear: the rest of Cybertron was for the grounders. Vos alone was for his Seekers.

[~]

Enough.

She was sick of the shame, the guilt, the nightmares.

She was sick of letting Starscream win.

Arcee was going to swallow her fear and spit it back in his face if need be. She was going to face this thing head on—really face it, not just say she will and then back out at the last minute. She was going to stop being afraid.

She had cried for hours in shame after the high came down. This entire thing wasn't fair to anyone; not them not her, not Jack, not herself. It wasn't right.

Striking Bumblebee was something unforgivable, yet she knew that he'd forgive her. He believed in her, had faith in her.

They all did.

A long recharge without any sort of dreams or memories was the best way to start this.

She stared at the door for some time, formulating opening sentences, none of which were satisfactory. For what felt like hours she mulled over each and every word, until finally she settled on a few. Without a heavy Spark, she walked into the brightly lit center.

They are looked in her direction, not a hint of judgement or disgust in their optics. But her attention was locked on Bumblebee as she deliberately made her way close to him.

She said, firmly, with little hesitation, "I…I think I'm ready to talk to someone about, well, everything. It's not pretty, and I'm going to need some breaks in between…but if you're ready to listen, then…"

Bumblebee perked up faster than the rest, even going as far as try to reach out for her, only to pull back. She sat on a crate close to her, servos folded and trembling. No going back now.

"Whenever you're ready, we're ready," Ratchet, ever attentive Ratchet, said.

Oh, she was ready as she'd ever be. She cleared her throat, and began to speak.