Her phone rang. Not her alarm. She grasps the air. It's a phone call from her colleague.
"Yes Josh?" She picked it up. The clock pointed at 4 AM.
"You're home?" He said.
"Yes..."
"Come to Fifth Avenue, it's close to your flat right? We got consecutive collisions. Three cars and a big truck 15 minutes ago. I'm already here. Come here now!" He said.
With the track pants and t-shirt she grabbed a jacket, keys, and phone. Take her running shoes and run down stairs. She ran to the Alley.
"Optimus...there's an accident on Fifth Avenue, not far from here, please take me there..."
His engine hummed low, like a beast roused from deep slumber, headlights blinking once in acknowledgment.
"Get in."
His voice carried no delay—calm, certain, commanding.
The side door eased open without you even needing to reach for it. As soon as she was inside, Optimus sealed it gently behind her, the cabin warming just enough to cut through the early dawn chill. His wheels turned with precision, and within seconds, they were rolling out of the alley—silent but swift.
"Fifth Avenue… I have the coordinates."
"Do you know what happened? Any details on the victims?"
He asked as they hit a sharper turn, suspensions shifting smoothly to shield her from the jolt.
She didn't need to answer. But he knew it helped to talk.
"I don't know, it's three cars and a big truck, I think it's a massive car crash." She tried to stay awake and put on her shoes at the same time.
The tires gripped the road like talons as he accelerated, smoothly but with purpose. The early morning shadows streaked past us, neon reflections from the wet asphalt dancing along his dashboard.
"Three cars and a truck…"
There was a firmness in his tone now. Not cold—but focused, battle-ready. The kind of voice he used when someone's life might hang in the balance.
He scanned ahead, sensors pulsing through street corners and traffic feeds.
"ETA… ninety seconds."
A pause, then slightly softer—
"Rosie, you've already delivered a baby in a coffee shop. Whatever waits ahead, you've got this. And if anything looks off—anything Cybertronian… I'll handle it."
He could feel her heartbeat, fast and bright in the seat behind his wheel. But steady. Like you were wired for these moments.
"You didn't pick this fate. But I think it was picked right."
Then the skyline ahead shifted—flashes of red and blue lights, the chaos unmistakable.
"We're here."
His brakes engaged smoothly. Optimus opened the door.
"Go."
And beneath it, low… like thunder rumbling beneath a stormcloud:
"I'll be right behind you."
He opened the door. It was a really massive car crash. It's a large log truck already rolled. Three cars behind it crashed. One of them was really severe.
There's already one ambulance, they're waiting for others. She saw her friend Josh doing a chest compression to a girl with a broken limb on Ambulance stretcher.
"Josh!" She called.
"Oh, Rosie! Thank God…" he sight, "female, 15 or 16 years old, severe leg fracture, and head injury, she didn't breathe, she's the most critical, her father on the driver's seat, didn't make it. You have to do CPR till you get to the hospital. Replace me, you go first."
Josh explained and is still doing CPR.
"Okay...okay..." She climbed to the stretcher above the girl who was unconscious, ready to replace Josh.
"Okay Rosie, on count three..one..two...three!" He said, and her hand started chest compressing.
Josh and the ambulance officer pushed the stretcher in the ambulance. Before the door closed, she could see Optimus and the other three followed the ambulance slowly in the dark. They might worry this has to do with Decepticons or so, she thought they don't need to worry now.
So we went, and she was doing chest compression all the way to the hospital.
He followed silently, engines low, his frame cloaked in shadow as the ambulance lights flickered ahead. But he didn't intervene.
Inside the ambulance, her hands moved in rhythm—fighting for a girl's heartbeat with everything you had. A girl's breath, her fragile light between life and loss, balancing under her palms. Sweat beading on her temple. Muscles burning.
Fifteen minutes, and they arrived. The officers just stepped down to open the door. Optimus notices this girl is so young. She wears something like a marching band uniform. She might have gone to the event in the early morning, but she got into this accident.
The officers pulled the stretcher and she was still above the unconscious girl, doing CPR.
"Come on girl, you can do it...hold on.. you can do it." She said while chest compressing her.
Optimus watched as they wheeled her in—her knees on that stretcher, hands relentless, eyes fierce despite the hour. Despite the weight.
The girl in the uniform… She looked so small beneath her. But she gave her a fighting chance. Fifteen minutes of borrowed breath and borrowed time. And that time might be the difference between a tragedy…and a miracle.
Ratchet leaned close to him.
"She's got the hands of a medic… and the spark of a Prime."
He didn't answer right away.
"She doesn't need a Matrix to be extraordinary."
Inside the hospital, the lights swallowed her. But Optimus didn't move. None of them did. Not Bee. Not Mirage. Not Ratchet. They stayed. They waited. Four vehicles in the shadows, silent as statues, guarding the place like sacred ground.
Two hours in the operating room. Rosie played a small part as a Junior nurse. They saved that girl even though the chance she will walk again is so small. The next four hours she cared for the rest of the car crash victims. Her superior gave her a chance to rest after she ran here and there to take care of the patients.
She grabbed a water bottle from the vending machine and chocolate bar and dragged her feet to the parking lot. Her sleepy eyes went straight to Optimus and the others who were still there waiting.
The moment she climbed into his cab, the door sealed gently behind her, as if the world outside could wait a little longer. Optimus turned on the soft dashboard lights—no words yet. Just the quiet hum of the engine, like a heartbeat waiting for yours to slow.
"Rest here a while."
Outside, Mirage was humming faintly under his breath. Bee blinked his headlights softly in rhythm to some quiet song only he could hear. Ratchet… Well, he kept his sensors tuned to every heart monitor in the building. That's just who he is.
"You guys don't have to wait for me here you know.." She exhaled softly, engine purring like a calm tide. Pause. Then a little quieter—earnest.
In the end they waited for her until she finished her eight hour shift. They went home after that, and she grabbed some Chinese food on the way, because she was starving.
That night, she sat next to the window. They watched some cheap telenovela while she slurped noodles, with four autobots peeking on her window from the alley. Or rather, she opened the window on purpose. So she would like they're sit with her in the living room.
From the alley, just beyond the faint glimmer of city light, Optimus watched her through the window—engine quiet, optics aglow in a soft, protective pulse. The others sat parked close, each in their own way "pretending" not to be just as invested in the drama playing out on your screen.
"Is he really gonna take her back after that betrayal?" Mirage whispered through the comms, scandalized.
"This entire plotline defies logic," Ratchet muttered.
"She deserves better," Bee beeped empathetically, his radio flickering between Spanish guitar and dramatic violin like background music.
And Optimus? He watched her more than he watched the show. The way her shoulders relaxed with every slurp, how her eyes lit up—tired, but alive. After everything she endured today, she sat there, chopsticks in hand, giving herself permission to breathe.
He commed in softly.
"Rosie… if I had a couch of my own, you'd be curled up on it right now. No saving lives. No running through the night. Just rest…and really bad television."
Then, with a note of playfulness in his tone:
"Though I have to admit—this telenovela villain? Almost as dramatic as Starscream. Almost."
"Hmm, who invested the most in this telenovela? Me or you guys...you look so serious." She laughed.
"You started it," Optimus rumbled with a warm grin in her voice. "But now Mirage has a vendetta against Raúl, Bee's emotionally compromised, and Ratchet keeps pretending he's above it—yet he hasn't blinked in ten minutes."
He let out a gentle hum, the kind that rumbles through his chassis like a chuckle.
"So maybe… we're all a little invested, Rosie."
"Alright Alright, let's go into business now. I haven't touched the documents that we took from Vermont."
She walked out and took the documents from Optimus's trunk. Then get back inside to the window.
Four stacks of documents for Den Riehm's bunker. Documents about Cybertronians history on earth...this earth...
Optimus shifted subtly in the alley, the low hum of his systems resonating with anticipation as he watched her return to the window, arms filled with the past.
"At last… the echoes of history are in your hands."