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Ratchet was feeling guilty.

True, he'd been very nice to Arcee the whole solar cycle – when she'd stomped off after he yelled at Orion, he'd sat with her in an empty classroom and let her cry for the rest of their break. He'd done his best to be silently supportive, listening as she described what she'd gone through these past orns in more detail. When Orion Pax had interrupted them, he'd yelled at him again, and even though Arcee didn't say anything, he could see that she was burning to join in.

She was much more mature than him. She was trying her best not to blame him, she said, but it was hard not to some times. And some of it really wasn't his fault – she surely couldn't blame him for not wanting to associate with a low caste in public, she argued. Ratchet hotly disagreed. He himself was associating with a low caste in public, for Primus' sake. Sift had taught him not to believe in any of that kind of stuff. Therefore, Ratchet concluded, Orion Pax had acted like a glitch head, no matter what Arcee thought.

In spite of saying all these things, even defending her against Jazz's jibes to the point of having him tease him about how Ratchet had suddenly 'fallen in love' with her, he still felt incredibly guilty.

Though he hadn't physically bullied her, he'd still deprived her of her only friend (even if that was mostly Orion's fault) and he'd done his best to make her feel unwelcome. After a point she just stopped fighting back and let him do what he wanted. At the time, he'd wondered why, but had never pursued the question; now, the answer seemed obvious. She was a low caste, and I was treating her like a high caste would generally treat a lower caste... Sift had taught him to treat everybot the same, but he hadn't even realised what he was doing until she had pointed it out to him... I must have a monkey-wrench for a processor.

What more could he do to improve the situation? He stared dully at her berth in his berthroom, feeling drained after doing so much arguing with both of his best friends. He slowly became aware of how little there was on it, unlike his own, which was at its messy best. In fact, there was nothing on hers, aside from a small, neatly folded up square of polishing cloth. Of course, he thought ruefully. He knew how poor low castes were. She had nothing to own. He resolved to give her all the old stuff he had. He'd make sure that she had separate datapads for each subject, like he did, instead of just the one that he'd given her; he'd give her all his old toys that he no longer played with; and he would buy her something with this orn's credits. There.

He sat down tiredly on his own berth.

Something still nagged at him, though. Those law enforcement younglings... They were Arcee's main problem. Her lack of stuff was just peripheral.

She'd still refused to talk about what those bots had done to her, though he could tell that it was weighing heavily on her processor. He could easily guess that whatever it was happened during training, but it was beyond the scope of his imagination to figure out what it was. He asked her if they beat her up, but apparently that wasn't it. What, then...?

He shrugged his shoulder caps. He'd considered the issue more at night, because he couldn't recharge, and also in the morning and at school. Law enforcement was above engineering, his own caste, so there really wasn't any way he could interfere by bringing in an authority...not even his sire, even though Appa was Arcee's legal guardian. He gnashed his dentas. If only he was an Elite caste, or something... He sighed. No point in thinking about impossible solutions.

Arcee was currently at training, wasn't she? The enforcement caste started training earlier than any other caste, so she had to go even though she was still six vorns old. Maybe...he could go there and walk her back home, like he was actually supposed to. His sire had tried to make him do it, since Arcee was still pretty young and he had been a little concerned about her and Prowl making it home safely, but Ratchet had point-blank refused. Appa had shrugged, saying that he couldn't force him.

Yes, he would go do that and be nice to Arcee. With that thought in mind, he sped through all his homework, and at 1755 cycles, he was trotting out the front door to get to Thanix, the Law Enforcement quarters of Iacon.

In about a breem, he was standing outside the training building, and he quickly checked his internal chronometer. He was just on time – younglings, some Arcee's age, some older or younger, streamed out of it. They give him odd looks – his build clearly gave away that he wasn't from their castes – and bots from other castes rarely ever came into Thanix, unlike, say, Dnanix, the Engineering Sector. Still, Ratchet persisted. He turned the corner and leaned against a wall, figuring that Arcee would see him when she passed out of the building.

After around two more breems, Ratchet was still leaning against the wall all the other bots were gone, and there was still no sign of Arcee. He was now confused. Where was she, and why was she late?

Then he thought a little more about things. He knew for a fact that her training ended at 1800 cycles. It had taken him less than a breem to get here, but Arcee never came home till around 1830. It didn't add up.

Something was horribly wrong. Then again, he already knew that.

He heard a muffled shriek and a clanging noise. Ratchet frowned and peeked around the corner. What was that...?

Arcee.

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