It's time for Smokescreen and (Y/N) to meet their baby. No one knows Smokescreen has been misinformed about women dying during delivery; the statistics are blown out of proportion — but his wife still dies, and the day he's dreaded has come, his child asking about mom.

The day has come; (Y/N) has been in labor for six hours. Arcee and June are here to support her and show Smokescreen how he can be supportive. The two ladies insist (Y/N) gets pain relief, feeling she's listening to the woman to claim having pain relief is not real childbirth.
We're screwed then if she needs a c-section. June worries.
Ratchet joins them in trying to convince (Y/N) to get pain relief.
"You still have a while to go," Ratchet explains.
Smokescreen is not liking how much pain (Y/N) is in, but no one knows someone after someone told him a woman can die during childbirth — unfortunately, they gave Smokescreen statistics that were blown out of proportion. Rather than talk to Arcee, June, Ratchet, or even his expecting wife, Smokescreen panics alone. The fact his wife is refusing pain relief is the least of his worries.

After a long additional eight hours, (Y/N) is ready. Arcee tells Smokescreen to hold (Y/N)'s hand while she holds her other hand. June and another nurse hold (Y/N)'s legs.
With the lies Smokescreen was told, he worries how it's taking a while for the head to be seen. Unfortunately, all he learned in the classes is gone.
"You're doing great," he says.
Shit, it's been thirty minutes. Something is wrong, Ratchet. Smokescreen frets.
"Come on, push," Ratchet encourages.
Smokescreen hates how much more pain (Y/N) ends up in as his child is delivered.
Finally, the baby is delivered and demonstrating ( his/ her) well-developed lungs.
"It's a (boy/girl)," Arcee announces.
(Y/N) and Smokescreen smile as their baby cries on (Y/N)'s chest. Smokescreen believes his wife is going to be ok m, but he forgot about the afterbirth.
"Hello,.(baby's name)," Smokescreen says, smiling.
"Scrap, she's bleeding badly," Ratchet frets, but Smokescreen doesn't hear him.
Ratchet and June hope to stop the bleeding without alarming the happy new parents, but that backfires when (Y/N) passes out.
"(Y/N)? babe?" Smokescreen frets.
"Let's go!" Arcee urges without Ratchet or June telling her to get Smokescreen out of the room. She takes the baby and pulls Smokescreen out of the room. Smokescreen fears he saw a lot of blood. I

Twenty minutes pass before the baby is crying loudly. No matter what Arcee does, the little one won't stop. She assumes the baby is hungry, but she doesn't have a bottle until Ratchet and June walk out of the room. The expression on their faces says it all; the baby can sense their mom died.
"I'm sorry, I tried to stop the bleeding," Ratchet says.
No one thought Smokescreen would pass out.

Once he came to, Ratchet took him to say goodbye to his wife. He sits on the chair by the bed, holds her hand, and cries. He knows Ratchet would pay close attention to his wife, and anything he could have prevented would have been taken care of, but he still asks why did it have to be his wife? Why (Y/N)?

The others try to be supportive back at the base, but Smokescreen pushes everyone away. Fowler coldly suggests putting the baby up for adoption.
"Even if this baby wasn't a hybrid, I would tell you no," Optimus tells him, "this is Smokescreen's child, and while his spark is broken, he'd be devastated being told he must put the baby up for adoption."
"Add this little one is a hybrid and adds to why putting them up for adoption is a bad idea," Ratchet adds.
Everyone carefully plans how they'll support Smokescreen as he raises his child — aware at first, he will not bother taking care of his child.

Everyone is happy. Smokescreen will at the very least spend time with his child, but it's hard. He'd cry as he holds the baby. It's a long month before he waits until he goes to his room to cry. Eventually, he's able to be the baby's father.
Everyone continues to help Smokescreen take care of (C/N).

Time seems to fly, and (he/she) is now seven years old. The explanation about the Autobots had to be done four years ago, but Smokescreen only told (C/N) mom isn't around anymore. He didn't want to confirm it meant mom died. He knew eventually he'd have to tell (him/ her), but he didn't think (he/she) would ask at the age of seven.
"Why isn't mommy here?" (he/she) asks.
No one else is around to answer for him.
"She died giving birth to you," he explains, hoping this doesn't lead to that conversation.
"What was mommy like?"
This is one question Smokescreen thought he wouldn't get asked. One he's not prepared to answer, knowing he's going to cry.
Unknown to him, Optimus was around and listening to the conversation.
"I think it's time, Smokescreen," Optimus says.
In the seven years since his child was born, he's never taken (him/her) to their mother's grave.

"This is mom's grave," Smokescreen explains as he and his child sit by the grave, "mom was an amazing person. She would try her hardest to do anything. She didn't fear anything."
That's when Smokescreen could no longer hold back the tears, which results in his child crying. They both hug each other, unaware the woman they lost is standing by them, watching, wishing she could return to them.