Greetings, my lovelies!

My 20th Birthday was quite wonderful. I did have to work that day, but I got to go out for ice cream after…which was free! Since there wasn't a cake, ice cream had to do. And it was goooooood.

But I digress….

Yes, the title of this chapter is inspired by the Alchemist's First Law, from "Fullmetal Alchemist"; In order to gain, something of equal or greater value must be lost. Equivalent Exchange. After all the depressing stuff that the first three chapters inspired, I decided to try my hand at something a little lighter. A little happier.

But, lo and behold, it still ends on a fairly gloomy note.

Eh. Can't help it.

Oh! Don't know why it took me this long to put this to each of my chapters!

To help ease the process of trying to figure out….

Body parts (all approximate, and the anatomical chart I use for my stories):

Hands = Servos

Arms = Support Servos
Legs = Stabilizing Servos
Tongue = Glossa
Feet = Landing Pads
Shoulders and Knees = Shoulderpads and kneepads, respectively
Eyes = Optics
Fingers = Digits
Hips = Pistons
Lips = Vocal Labi
Mouth = Vocal Receptor
Ears = Audio Receptor
Neck = Chassis Pillar

Torso/Chest = Chassis
Body = Frame/Shell
Brain = Processor
Sections of brain = Lobes

And time (all approximate, and the chronological chart I use for my stories):

Any time less than a second = Microklik
Second = Nanoklik
Minute = Klik
8.3 Minutes = Breem
Hour = Cycle
6 Hours = Joor
Day (both day and night) = Solar Cycle
Week = Decacycle
Month = Orbital Cycle
6 Months/Half a Stellar Cycle = Orn
Year = Stellar Cycle
83 Years = Vorn
Approx. 100 years = Megacycle

Hope this helps. Now, go on and enjoy the new chapter!

~Ylysha

Preview picture courtesy of Lecidre.

Disclaimer: Transformers, and anything relate to it, is not mine. Neither is the pairing. I just ship it hard.

_

"Get your aft back here."

The larger, hulking mech turned around to face my cobalt-blue protector. The prison area fell silent, and prisoners of all factions and all walks of life begun to form a square around the two. An arena. The bot that caused all the hubbub pushed me to the side.

"Hey! The frag-?"

"-I promised your mentor no harm would come to you while I'm here, Flareup. Besides", she murmured, glaring lead-tipped shots at the dingy gray-and-red mech that had fondled me and grabbed me by my thigh, "….this one is a slagger. I'll gladly take this one."

In the left corner was Beta, a hardened criminal, in for a theft felony as well as releasing dangerous organic creatures on a hapless Neutral colony of Cybertronians.

And in the right….the recently disgraced Chromia Minor. At least to the rest of the Autobot cause. In for hoarding 'dangerous' vagrants in an evicted building, maiming of Autotroopers, refusal of arrest, and 'presumed' knowledge and contact with terrorists.

Presumed my aft.

I love Chromia. She's much like me. And, so far, she's kept her word to my mentor Firestar that I wouldn't be in any serious trouble while I was in Trypticon.

So far.

Beta was easily twice her size, but she looked at him with all the courage of Beta Magnus, the first femme Magnus and more deserving of the name, and cracked her servos with a tiny smile.

"What? She your girlfriend?"

"My responsibility, fragger. And, as far as girlfriends, NOT yours, so back off, and don't be touching any femmes the way you just did, or I'll rip off more than a part of your head."

"Don't make me laugh."

"Laugh? I will make you scream in complete agony."

"Bring it, glitch."

Wrong choice of words, fragger. I barely contained my excitement when she used her fist to crush his faceplates in.

"Kick his aft, 'Mia!"

She gave me one curt nod and a smile, then unleashed the Pit on him. Into his chassis. His optics. His stabilizing servos and kneecaps. His support servos.

The shouting and hollering rose with my energon running. I saw, I felt, I heard bots around me cheering on Beta, cheering on Chromia, making bets and gambling things like energon cubes or servo-made bullets.

A feeling of deep satisfaction settled in my frame when Chromia took a heavy chair and bashed it against his head, knocking him to the ground. Despite being smaller, she stood taller than a lot of bots think, which helped her a lot.

He scrambled and, seeing me, grabbed me and used me as a shield. Except 'Mia won't hit me with the table she's just picked up, so he stood up and threw me into the crowd. There were lots of screams and the servos of strangers reaching out and brushing against my shell.

The indigo-colored support servos of Beachcomber were the most effective in breaking my fall, and I was never more grateful to have him there than then.

"Beachcomber?"

"Yep?"

"What-what in the Pit is going on now?"

"Ionno. You…..just have to get up now. I-"

The noise reached an all-time high. I looked over the crowd and saw that Beta, somehow, had managed to get Chromia down. I was suddenly afraid.

She wasn't moving. Facedown, sprawled on the dirty prison floors, and energon gushing out of wounds on her frame.

"'Mia!", I yelled, quickly looking around. I knew, at the least, all prison guards had a servo-held gun of some sort. I saw one, strapped to the piston of an unconscious guard. Finders keepers, losers weepers. I ran over, dodging bots cheering Beta as he began assaulting her with heavy kicks and punches. I pulled the gun off, then made my way to the end of the circle.

"Chromia. Chromia! Get up!" I fit the gun into her servo just as other bots roughly pulled me out.

"No helping, glitch!"

Had it not been for Beachcomber coming in, I may very well offlined the slaggers. He put a servo over my optics.

"BC, what the Pit-?"

"He's got a chunk of a wall, Flare-'

I yanked his servo off.

Just as Beta dropped the heavy slab onto Chromia, I saw the digits on her servo twitch; the servo I placed the gun in. Without looking backwards, she attempted to aim and shot him, catching him in the spark. He froze for a nanoklik, then fell backwards. The slab slipped from his digits.

Then-it happened. It happened so fast it rendered the crowd speechless.

Chromia, already too weak to move away quickly enough, let her support servo drop lifelessly. Beta had intended the slab to crush the upper part of her body.

"Flareup, you gotta stay here!'

"-NO!"

Squish.

Aside from the gasp of shocked prisoners and the fainting of some pansies, the crowds go from screaming to silent in less than a klik. Beta was probably dying. As for Chromia….

"Somebot fragging do something!"

"…."

I didn't want him to see.

I didn't want to see.

But it happened.

The slab ends up crushing everything from her chassis pillar upwards. Her throat cables, her audio receptors, her processor: scrap metal. Her faceplates are the only part of her head left intact. Everything else was flattened into an energon-covered mess. Her optics were empty and wide open, like every prison cell.

I was the closest to her when the back of her head was crushed in. Her energon coated my faceplates and servos, and began falling off of me in little drops. So much. Too much. All for my sake.

Primus, Chromia. I could've handled getting roughed up, and possibly molested. I never wanted this to happen.

I promise I'll make it up to you. I swear.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

They never did thoroughly clean the floors, and, even now, her energon is dried in the cracks.

_

Equivalent Exchange

or

A story of huge favors, sentimental value, sharing secrets, surprises, and a moment of comfort.


{Sometime during the beginnings of the Great War of the Factions}

[Perceptor's private laboratories]

It has been approximately three hundred and thirty-five stellar cycles since Moonracer was employed by the Ministry of Science as my assistant. And with Wheeljack mentoring Ironfist and Red Alert working on her degree from Protihex, Moonracer has been a valuable help.

In that short amount of time, she has managed to turn from a troublesome femme in need of employment, to a close friend and collegue.

How, exactly?

I cannot pinpoint exactly, but I presume her experience in social situations I am not comfortable in, coupled by her generally cheerful disposition and liberal mindset, makes her a suitable companion in any situation.

That, and she can stand up for herself and others when need be.

Regardless, I have noticed that the Ministry pays her a rather paltry amount in comparison to the works she does.

"Percy, what's this?"

"A code card, Moonie."

"I know that. But for what?"

"….My finances."

"…..You mean, your credits?"

"All of it."

Here it comes….

"Percy, this is-I can't even-I don't-wha-oh, I can't accept this in good conscience! Here, take it back!"

Of course.

"Why won't you accept it? Your salary is hardly compensation enough for the work you do around here. Not to mention the work you've been doing before you were hired."

"First of all, it's all of your credits, not mine. You've been working for it almost all your life. Second of all, I remember those good times. That one time you tried to drag me out, after I popped out of a box of wires you needed. Third, I don't mind working a little. I have energon and a place to recharge, and good friends and the opportunity to be helpful. That's all I need."

"Needs? Most bots need more than that to survive."

"Oh, c'mon, genius, I think I've covered the bases there. Energon, a place to recharge….and recharge itself, companionship, and exercise. Yep, thought of it all."

I drop the pliers I am fiddling with, and turn off the burner I have been using. So she wants to debate? Two can partake in this mind game.

"Following Eminate Xaaron's Hierarchy of Needs, how about safety? Warmth? Interface? Actually, considering interface, that might not even be a need, since most interface is recreational, and Cybertronians can technically reproduce-"

"-well, maybe the companionship and warmth needs of most bots are covered that way. Interface, I mean."

I look at her, and she gives me an incredulous look back. Yet neither of us will drop the topic. And since no one else is present…..

"Now that I have mentioned it, what is so great about interfacing? There are data files on the matter. Dramatic works are made about it. It is tradition, that mentors are expected to answer their apprentices' questions upon interfacing."

"You've got a point. And you're so right about the mentor-apprentice thing, too. I mean, what I know on the subject, I learned from Chromia. I don't even know sometimes. She says I really should wait when it comes to interfacing, and really think about who I choose as a sparkmate. Then she gets into rather uncomfortable, but honest, talk about….like, positions or whatnot. She has a significant other right now."

"You do not?"

"Well, I'm just testing things out with Powerglide right now. Still have doubts. Not so sure. Spark bonds are things one doesn't lightly, says 'Mia.
…..Are we-are we really talking about fragging right now, 'Scientist'?"

She laughs, and I can't help but chuckle alongside her.

"Apparently so. Just imagine, 'Sharpshooter': 'Yes, Alpha Trion, sir. The grant is going to an excellent and relevant study."

She chimes in with her own opinions. "Fragging: The impact of interface on Cybertronian history, sociology, and psychology."

"Conclusions will be announced after we find enough bonded pairs to examine about the various positions and preparation involved. Very, very relevant to the Autobot cause."

"And we take this study oh-so-very seriously."

The both of us cackle with laughter.

"We have such a messed-up sense of humor. Maybe you and I should never, ever be allowed to laugh. EVER."

"Nonsense. Laughter is shown to be healthy, not only emotionally, but mentally, psychologically, and physically as well."

We sit on a table, and as our laughter dies down, Moonracer moves herself so that we are back to back. I hear the distinct creak of her landing pads swinging back and forth.

She feels unnaturally warm. Perhaps the cool temperature of my labs is causing her systems to overproduce heat. Her voice, soft and lilting, a stark contrast from our boisterous laughter, breaks the companionable silence.

"Percy?"

"Yes?"

"The credits-"

"I've said before, you have access should you ever need any."

"No, not that. I mean….is one of the reasons for you giving me the code card involved with what happened a couple solar cycles ago?"

The sensation of my spark running cold suddenly fills my chassis.

Four solar cycles ago, I returned from being a Decepticon captive for approximately a megacycle. The opposing faction captured me, to not only hold me for ransom, but also to attempt copying my processor and finding the secret for my ability to store exponential amounts of data. They did deprive me of energon and recharge, and interrogated me until I began fading into stasis right in my trappings, and they did not torture me, but-they-they-

-then Autobots came to rescue me, but I was paralyzed.

Paralyzed. Completely online, and completely helpless. I could not get myself out.
I am supposed to be a genius, supposed to be smart enough to get myself out, and I could not.
When I was being fixed in a hospital before returning to the Guild, then to my quarters after an unnecessary check-up from Hoist, all I could do for the last half cycle was douse my faceplates with coolant, consume as much low-grade as my tanks could handle, then return to my projects as if nothing had happened. Four cycles, twenty kliks, and forty-three nanokliks later I was purging my tanks until the amount of energon I had was just enough to keep me online.

I abhorred that feeling. Of being unable to do anything.

"Percy? Percy? Percy!"

The image of myself cuffed to a wall in a Decepticon prison cell dissipates into Moonracer's pale green, concerned faceplates, her optics staring into mine with an intensity I haven't seen before.

"What? What? What did I do?"

"You….you just…..left your shell for a nanoklik there. One klik, you and I are back to back. The next klik, you're just staring off into the distance. No blinking, that faraway look I see in Greenlight's optics sometimes. What's going on?"

I desire to tell her I am perfectly alright. I fully intend to. Yet, out of my vocal receptor she hears,

"They jammed a downloading peg into the middle of my head. No anesthetic, no disabling of pain receptors."

When I found out, it was by looking at the reflective surface of Ironfist's mask. It was the largest of the changes to my faceplates. It was a large gaping hole in the middle of my head.

"It was one of the most painful things I had ever experienced."

When they jammed the downloading peg, they wanted information, and didn't care about the consequences. They just wanted to solve whatever problem they had, right away. A quick solution. A heavy price. How did they do it? Supposedly, they are Cybertronian as well. Yet, how did they push their conscience all down when they had to maim, torture, or murder another bot for a selfish, idiotic cause?

These thoughts go down the proverbial drain when Moonracer takes my head and lays it on her right shoulderpad, since my microscope prevents a comfortable embrace on her left shoulderpad.

"Shhh. It's okay, Percy. It'll be okay. Your head, I mean. Does it hurt now? And did it do any permanent damage to your processor? No wonder you're acting all funny, with the interface jokes and the laughter tidbit. Are you okay? What'll happen if you, I dunno, have seizures? How many digits am I holding up?"

"Er…my head does not hurt now, I have no permanent damage I am aware of, I am okay, and you are holding up four digits."

There is tension in her back, the click-click-click of wires seizing up. But as she relaxes, a faint whoosh of air leaves her systems.

"Do not be worried for my sake. Really."

"But I do. I can't help it. I worry for you all the time. Even when I'm with Chromia. Even when I'm with Powerglide. Even now."

"But I have a relatively safe work environment. The biggest danger here is Wheeljack, and he is a member of our faction. On our side. I have a place to recharge, enough energon to consume, some of the best medical care on Cybertron, access to enough funds, supplies, and labor to carry out my science projects. I work in a place of science, something I have always felt strongly about, with bots I can depend on, and who can depend on me in return.
Why, oh why, do you worry for me?"

"Because you're not happy."

"That is a hasty generalization. I am very content-"

"Then why does it seem you're missing something? Like…..I don't how to say, exactly, but….there's something inside of you unfulfilled? Unsatisfied? Like….there's something you want to so desperately tell me, joor after joor, but you just can't? You can't force yourself to do it."

I lift my head out of her crook of her chassis pillar. "Moonracer-"

"I always have this feeling, something's not right with you. Something's horribly, horribly wrong, something now, or something to come. I can't quite put my digit on it, but….maybe, just maybe, whether or not you are aware, you have that feeling, too, and….you're trying to….keep everything you have close to you. Your capture by the Decepticons was only a preview, only a stepping stone, to this…something wrong. Am I…..am I making sense?"

"-I will be frank, Moonracer. You are not. But intuition does have its merits…..and also its problems. I, for one, do not have that 'feeling'. Although….you may not be wrong about me being in some sort of danger. There is a war, and yet, here we are laughing and making jokes. In a time of war no one is safe. You are simply more aware of it because you are a soldier. That is what you do"

She cocks her head thoughtfully. "Now that you mention that….it just seems so unfair sometimes. How…not every bot is so battle-ready. I mean, you, for example. You don't even know how to handle a gun…."

"Not necessarily true."

One of the three secrets I trusted with no one but Moonracer was a bomb test range I had access to. It was Wheeljack's personal test range where he would test bombs and other explosives a somewhat safe distance from the Guild. I have yet to convince him to permanently house his laboratories here as well, and, as a rebuttal, he allowed me to use it as well. Never thought I'd have a companion here.

Until this solar cycle.

"This is amazing, Percy! Your very own shooting range. The glass is shatter-proof AND sound-proof….."

There are no land mines, so it is safe enough for the two of us to set up a few makeshift targets that move every klik or so.

After about a breem or so of practice shooting while discussing a synthetic energon formula, she turns the discussion to me.
"How long have you been practicing sharpshooting?"

"I estimate about an orn ago, not very long. I'm getting a little better with every passing solar cycle, but the progress is miniscule."

"Why snipers? I mean, I'm your best friend. I'm a sharpshooter, and you now learning sharpshooting is going to make you seem unoriginal."

"Yes, but I found that a sniper….suits me best. The weapon is lighter and, in some cases, easier to conceal, and it can catch a target from a great distance, while allowing the sharpshooter to stay a relatively safe distance from danger. It also uses less bullets and takes less time to repair. Logical choice, for me, anyway."

"Hmmm, that's a pretty good explanation. Me…..I just like it. It's too tiring to do that Chromia thing, just to run into battle with a dozen guns strapped to my frame, firing two automatics like there's no tomorrow."

"In a battle like that, many don't experience a tomorrow."

The sound of our gunshots cease.

"I-"

"It's true, though. You're not wrong."

"Hmm."

She cocks her head to one side, running her gaze along my support servos and along the length of the sniper. I do not pay too much attention, concentrated with trying to hit targets.

"Your aim isn't too bad, but a bot like you will not always have a gun within servo's reach. You need to learn some individual defense lessons. Close combat."

"I do not have the capability for that. My frame is much too light, and my shell is hardly powerful enough to take down combatants quickly enough."

"So do I. I have a lithe frame as well, but I can probably fight better than you can."

She carefully places her sniper down. "How about I teach you a few things?"

I stop shooting and glance in her direction. "Now?"

"Yes, now, silly. I'll teach you just basic stuff you need to know."

I carefully place my sniper down, and turn off the moving targets. "Is that really necessary?"

She looks away for a klik, then sharply looks back at me. "Who's to say something bad won't happen to you again?", she murmurs bluntly. "I wouldn't be a very good friend if I didn't at least show you some way of helping yourself. Like you said, it's a time of war. We all need to be ready."

I stare down at my servos.
Am I capable of hurting another bot, if only to protect myself or another? Am I able to seriously injure, or even possibly take a life, if it meant protecting something even greater? Could I bear to? Would I be able to when the time came? And could I face the consequences of my actions when I did? If the situation called for it, could I look in the faceplates of another bot and watch them offline before my very optics?

I answer, but it feels as though another bot is speaking through me.

"Yes. More than anyone will ever know."

Moonracer is oblivious to the darkness in my tone. "Great! Then follow me out here, so that there's enough room."

I follow her out to an open area, and she instructs me to face her.

"Okay, so…now….I want you to….come and attack me."

"….You're not serious."

"I am dead serious. I will be gentle to you, I promise."

"I am not worried for myself."

"Well, what do yo-oh! Me! Don't worry about me."

"I do worry about you. As much as you worry about me."

"You really shouldn't."

"I will worry about you as long as you worry about me. Fair is fair."

She holds my gaze for a klik; holds it with the same intense blue I saw in her optics before.

"You know, it's times like this I wonder why you don't have a girlfriend-"

"-Because I…have never seemed to find one, perhaps? I do not….socialize….as much as Wheeljack says I should."

"I should drag you along with me sometime."

"After this lesson, perhaps?"

She smiles. "You're so formal, with your 'perhaps' and whatnot. You can most definitely get a significant other even without my help."

An involuntary rise in temperature heats my faceplates.

"How about…..okay, come here. You need to face my back, and, when I say 'go', put your arms around my chassis pillar, like you're going to cut off my flow of energon by decapitation."

I raise an optic ridge, but I oblige, standing directly behind her. I see any visible wiring coil with tension as she prepares herself.

"See how I'm crouching? How far apart my stabilizing servos are? You want to make your attacker believe that you're giving up, you're slouching over in defeat. When really, you're seeing if his solar plexus, or the area under his chin, the front of his neck, or his…..ah….unmentionables….are unprotected. Alright, go!"

I almost miss the cue, grabbing her from behind just a microklik after her command.

And, through the pain-induced haze that follows after, I faintly register that her elbow joint slams into my faceplates with sudden, surprising force.

"OhmiPrimus! Percy!"

I feel myself stagger back from the blow, grabbing onto the nearest solid thing my servo touches.

It's Moonracer's shoulderpad, and she gently eases me onto the floor and grabs my faceplates in her thin digits.

"OhmiPrimus ohmiPrimus ohmiPrimus I AM SO SORRY PERCY!"

"Moonie, don't be worried, I've sustained injuries far worse than this-"

"-your olfactory sensor is leaking!"

"Is it?" I manage to touch my servo to the area underneath my olfactory sensor. My digits stain bright blue from leaked energon. I gently press into any areas around my olfactory sensor to feel what she hit. Besides my broken olfactory sensor and some slight bruising near my right optic, I am in working condition.

"Percy, dear Primus, I am so sorry! I don't know what I was thinking!"

"You're a soldier, and you are conditioned to react that way. It's perfectly alright."

"But you're bleeding! And besides, I think there's a cut near your right optic."

"It will heal in a solar cycle or so, now please, stop worrying. I don't like seeing you afraid."

She cups my faceplates in her servos and gently brushes my right optic with a digit. That unexplainable flash of heat arises again.

"Still…I could have done so much more damage to you if I applied more force. That cut near your optic, I think it's gotten bigger."

She takes her servos away and slumps in a kneeling-down position. I sense the thoughts that fly across her processor as I straighten myself. Then I see her faceplates light up with some crazy, wonderful idea. She calmly smiles and takes her yellow visor off of her head (how did I oversee that until now?), and slides them on my faceplates so that they shield my optics.

"In exchange for….well…everything. That's yours now, Perce. Then you're less likely to lose an optic to my clumsiness."

I take it off, take one of her servos, and carefully place the visor in her palm.

"You're not clumsy. Far from it, actually. And…..this visor. It's yours. You need it more than me….I couldn't possibly…."

She simply slides it back on my faceplates. "…..shh. It's called Equivalent Exchange, scientist. 'In order to gain, something of equal or greater value must be lost.' My shield, in exchange for your support. The visor that protect my optics from bullets and Wheeljack's explosions for the longest time, plus made me look pretty awesome out in training with 'Mia, in exchange for access to your precious, hard-earned credits."

"You're bringing up the credits again."

"Because it's a big deal for me. Not even Chromia was that….lenient. 'My dear girl, if you want to be anything like me, you have to work for a living. You have to learn what it's like, to have to survive on your own. To scratch a living, and to sacrifice. Because, sweetspark, this world doesn't care how pretty or awesome you think you are. You can't learn to survive on your own, you ain't gonna be a help to anyone else. Believe me, dear girl. That's the truth.' So, yeah….free credits…in exchange for a measly visor."

She suddenly looks up at me. "You're right, Perce. That visor isn't enough. Maybe I can-"

I touch my servo to her vocal labi.

Another intense stab of heat. I have got to see Hoist, or Red Alert, about that.

"No. This is….this is sufficient. I greatly appreciate this, Moonie. I do."

"Wait, what? Percy, it's just a protective visor. You could've probably bought a better one someplace else, or had one made for you. I know bots that do make visors."

"Well, this visor was given to me by my best friend."

"Your…..your best friend?"

I nod.

"Isn't Wheeljack-"

"-My partner. My co-worker. My colleague and friend professionally. Not my best friend. I don't quite know how to verbalize it, but-somehow, you make me feel safer. As if I could tell you anything, and you wouldn't condemn or berate me."

"Because you can, Perceptor. You can tell me anything, and I promise, no matter what, I will have your back. You will have my support. We will be friends forever."

"Forever is a long time."

"So I hear."

"This visor is a symbol of our friendship. As long as I wear it, it means that we are friends. That we can trust each other definitely."

"I like the sound of that."

A signature radiant smile from Moonracer, and I fix the visor on my slightly painful olfactory sensor in response. Everything bathes in a cool yellow tinge, but I can still see everything clearly.

"This place, or at least me using it outside of scientific purposes, is one secret you know of. You know the second one already."

"That you-"

"Yes."

"Not even Wheeljack knows that?"

"No."

"I see." Moonracer moves to wipe the trail of energon leaking from my olfactory sensor, but after a few kliks she looks at me and makes a face.

"What?"

"What do you mean, what?"

"You're smiling at me."

"Am I? I suppose, then, I have just found how you can compensate the access to my credits. In exchange for my credits, you give-or, rather, already have given me-your protection, your trust, and your friendship. Fair?"

I hesitantly put my servo out to shake. I have read that personal deals between two bots were sealed with a joining of servos. She slips her servo into mine.

"Fair."

We seal the deal with a small shake, and I let my servo drop first.
"It's just amazing, really, that I can trust you with almost anything, and not experience any negative feelings."

My best friend stands up. "Almost anything? Please, Percy, you can trust me with everything."

I stand up as well, but my spark feels like it's dropping down, down into the ground. She walks back to the main laboratories, probably to go pick up an energon cube for me, but I can't help but whisper to her retreating form,

"Oh, Moonracer …'everything' is not as simple and easy as you'd like it to be."

_