The previously-devastated military base had been mostly reconstructed in the year since the blast, and all of the injured had healed or returned to their modern hospital. Despite the mass exodus, there was still much scurrying activity underfoot for the Autobots.
On a cold dry winter morning in the desert, Optimus COMed his team to meet in the entry hangar. Once assembled, he began his briefing.
"There will be another Autobot joining us today. I felt it necessary to prepare you all for this addition. We can never replace our fallen allies, and we may never measure up to their sacrifices, but we must move forward with the resources we can acquire. Our new ally is the capable medic we desperately need, but please, do not hold him against your standards of Ratchet. I hope you will welcome him to our team just as you did Arcee and Sandstorm."
Bee whirred happily and pumped his fist in the air. Mirage grumbled quietly to himself something about teaching proper supercar maintenance. Ironhide remained stoically silent.
"Well, I hope he's not afraid to get his gears dirty. I've had this crick in my aft that I just cannot seem to solve!" Sandstorm cried boisterously, clawing at his tailpipes.
Arcee rested her hand on Optimus's arm reassuringly. "No one could ever replace Ratchet."
Shortly before midday, a barrage of automatic gunfire popped off, interspersed with the pinging of bullets off metal.
"Back up! Lethal force is authorized against all unsanctioned access to this building!" The soldier yelled at the foreign black and red-striped bot. The guard stationed next to him radioed his commanding officer to announce the breach.
With no delay, the closest NEST patrol was parked atop an overlooking ridge, guns drawn. Soldiers on the roof and ground of the complex all fixed a bead on the possible enemy that had tried to push his way into the ARC hangar.
"What are you on about? Unsanctioned!? I'll have you know I'm not some rubbish 'con! How dare you shoot at me!"
Bumblebee came careening around the corner, cannons ready. The red stripes on the intruder dusted off some very very old memories in his circuits and he put his guns away. He patted the air, signalling for the rest of the defense to lower their weapons. Whiring, he approached Hoist from behind.
The medic turned around and exclaimed "Bumblebee!? How long it's been, old chap! The last time I saw you, what, 1984 after the Ark?! Come here!" He reached out and vigorously shook with both hands, a wide smile on. "Wait just a moment, did you beep at me? Where's your voice, Bumble?"
"He ain't got one." Ironhide replied gruffly. Having joined the group in response to the earlier gunfire, he remained unsure of yet another stranger.
"Don't be daft, every bot has a voice! Show me to your medbay and we'll get this sorted right away!"
Ironhide packed away his guns while responding "If it was that easy, Ratchet would have already done it. It's not a loose bolt or frayed wire. His voicebox was ripped out."
"Oh dear. And I assume these little lifeforms don't have near the technological advancements to fabricate our biomechanics. Quite a pity." He cast a sympathetic glance at Bee, whose shoulders slumped almost in shame.
"You must be Hoist. I am Optimus Prime. We are grateful to have another ally with us, especially a medic." said Optimus, strolling out to meet Hoist.
"Well I'm proper gobsmacked! It's an absolute honor to meet a Prime, on this world of all unlikely places." Hoist bowed at the waist briefly. "I am happy to serve the Autobot cause once more."
"Good. There may be a project for you to start work on immediately. Follow me." Optimus instructed as he turned to enter the ARC hangar. The guards that had shot at the newcomer stepped aside without a word.
His scanners went to work analyzing before he even crossed the threshold. Stepping into the hangar, Hoist was immediately drawn to the hollow mech poised across the floor from him.
Muttering to himself, he walked around the body scratching his chin. "Protomatter, manganese, cobalt, iron, nickel and chromium… Curious. HCP structures? Genetically dissimilar between the interior and the limbs… Hmm… no energon lines, could be highly conductive instead... connected to a compression-combustion chamber? Core structure of high-entropy metal. Optimus, this is not a born Cybertronian. Is this the human's work? Will you allow me to fix it?"
The stars shone brightly in the clear obsidian sky, looking down on the ARC pilots as they were finally dismissed after their long day of training. They had begun testing the sync between controls and actual movement of the mech. Errors with the balance system and power control made for halting work, but the intel was valuable. The newest Autobot had been very hands on, tweaking and heedlessly interrupting to further inspect or adjust.
Nicholas Blaese rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms over his head, straining the seams of his flight suit. Examining the chilly nighttime desert, he spied a small human form sitting atop the closest dune.
"Hey Cole, chow time?" called the area controle expert, Lionel Archer.
"Nah, I'm good. Catch up with you guys later." He watched them retreat before returning his attention to the person on the dune. Slowly, he trekked up the sandy slope and found a young woman, hugging her knees to her chest, staring off into the distance.
"Hello? Are… you okay?" he asked. Danielle turned her face and met his gaze silently. Even under the blackness of night, he recognized the void that stared back at him in her eyes. Many soldiers returned from war with that vacant expression, seemingly unreachable by anyone on this plane of existence.
"You look like you need someone to talk to, soldier." he said, sitting down on the sand a respectful distance from her.
She snorted air out her nose before looking away. "I'm not a soldier. And I've done enough talking for a lifetime today, just don't tell my therapist that."
Time drew away slowly with nothing but the hush of sand sliding down the dark slope in a cold breeze.
"Have you tried any other ways of facing down whatever your demon is? Talk doesn't work for everybody." he said, shrugging.
"Only if you count eating or ignoring as valid coping methods."
He chuckled lightly. "Valid? Yes. Healthy? Not really. You know, back when I couldn't handle my shit, I used to just sleep all day. Military straightened me out real quick, but you wanna know what did the trick to keep me outta that funk?" He paused but didn't receive any answer. Undeterred, he announced "Martial arts."
Resting her head on her knees, face still devoid of emotion, she looked back at him. She noticed the tightness of his clothing around his shoulders and the chiseled ebony of his arms. His eyes caught hers, the corner of his mouth lifting into a knowing smile.
"I don't know what you've got going on, but do you want to give it a try?" he asked. When she didn't move, he stood up and brushed the sand from his suit legs. "C'mon, throw me a few practise punches, and if you don't feel better at the end, I'll let you hit me."
She couldn't make logical sense about it, but his genuine smile somehow pulled her to her feet against her apathy. "Okay, sure. What uh… What am I supposed to do?" A shade of self-consciousness crossed her face, leaving the traces of a smile.
He widened his posture and sank lightly in his knees, turning his shoulders some degrees away from her. He put his palms out towards her in front of his chest, one slightly behind the other. "First, you need to find a balanced fighting stance, like this. Then we'll practice the moves, nice and slow, so nobody gets hurt."
Danielle approached and mimicked his pose. He walked her through the first punch, how to hold her fist, extend her arm, twist with the torso for power, and how to complete the follow through. They walked through the routine several times, Cole giving critiques while she threw slow motion punches into his open palms. After a dozen rounds, he could see her posture had become less rounded, less closed in on itself. Now, her shoulders were back, chest open, head up.
"Alright, lets try a real one, normal speed. Go for my left hand with your right. Remember, it's not about power, just trying to build muscle memory. Please don't break my hand." he taunted.
She breathed deep into her chest, going through the motions in her mind, before sending her fist out to strike his hand.
"Ooo, look at you!" he said, straightening up and shaking out his fingers in mock-pain. "You've got it now. Next time I'll bring gloves." his deep laugh rolled through the night.
The concentration on her face melted away to a soft smile. "Next time?" she asked.
"Yea, if you want. I'm in there training all day everyday," he jammed his thumb at the ARC hangar, grinning, "but I'm free about this time tomorrow."
"You're training in there? Even I don't know what's going on in there, and I'm friends with the Autobots! You must be something special. Now that I think about it, I didn't catch your name. "
"Friends? Who are you exactly?" he asked, arms crossed over his chest.
"Hey, I asked first." she retorted.
"I'm Nicholas Blaese," he conceded, "friends call me Cole. I'm a hand to hand combat specialist. Can't tell you what I'm working on, though. You'd have to ask General Reims."
"How about I ask Optimus Prime since we're on casual speaking terms?" she smirked wryly. He only tilted his head, returning the look. She rolled her eyes at him and answered his previous question "I'm Danielle Terannce, ward of the bots since their war brought destruction down my city and destroyed my home last year." she said with sarcastic spirit-hands
His eyes widened. "Do you know you're practically a legend around here? You had a driveway-Decepticon for years and then took it out when it attacked! Didn't know I was in the presence of a hero." He mock-bowed, but upon seeing her face when he rose back up, his playfulness disappeared. Her demeanor had returned to stone, a rigidness gripping her shoulders. "Oh. I'm sorry, I-"
"He wasn't a Decepticon." she stated firmly, cutting him off. "Just misguided. And like I told you before, I'm not a soldier, much less a hero." She began to walk down the dune towards the base entry. "It's late, you should go if you have more special training tomorrow. Thanks for the punching lesson." she said flatly.
"Woah, woah, hey! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to… I didn't know it was personal." He followed her through the sand, sliding steps catching up to her in no time. "Is that why you were up there tonight?"
Danielle froze, fists at her sides, staring dead ahead. "No."
"Well then, maybe we can work through whatever it really was tomorrow. Same time, same place?" he asked, a tinge of hope in his voice.
She looked at him over her shoulder, trying to quiet the turmoil in her thoughts.
"Goodnight, Cole." Turning back towards the base, she descended the rest of the dune and snuck inside, leaving him alone with his confusion.
"Goodnight!" he hollered back just before she had slipped beyond the door.
Around a dimly lit corner, just beyond the range of human night vision, two blue orbs peered out of the dark.
He had been returning from patrol when he picked up Danielle's heat signature. A sneaking insecurity had subtly engaged his scouting tactics. The night eagerly consumed his yellow body. Only faint starlight dancing on the edges of his shape alluded to his presence as he inconspicuously watched Danielle train with, and confide in, the soldier.
Why aren't you coming to me when you're upset? Have I lost your trust? He remembered all those times she had snuck into his quarters for comfort. First Arcee, now this human? he thought to himself.
"He wasn't a Decepticon" also rang in his memory. Was she defending that traitor, even after Raptor nearly extinguished both his spark and her life?
"It really has been too long, Bumblebee." At the time, her words had caused a worry that he brushed aside as reading into something that wasn't really there. Now, though, they hung an odd weight on his spark. He needed to talk to her.