One In A Billion | TFP

𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟔

"You're gonna be okay, kid,"

Wheeljack knelt beside me, his massive hand offering some semblance of comfort as I found myself clinging to one of his digits. Too dysregulated to speak, I nod instead, stress and terror masked behind my tired eyes.

Arcee's voice broke through the base's com sharp and clear."We're about to come through the groundbridge," she announced. 

As the communication link went silent, Wheeljack and Bulkhead exchanged glances. I couldn't help looking over at them, wondering if I truly was going to be okay, but I'd known the Autobots long enough to know that I could trust them. And that was just it. Trust.

How was I supposed to trust someone, especially if they turned out to be my enemies, and not just my enemies, but enemies of my superiors; of my people? I clenched my fists, struggling to resist the urge to cling to them, to beg for their protection even though my training screamed at me to stay distant. 

Wheeljack and Bulkhead had rescued me from the clutches of the Decepticons. The memory was a haze of chaos and violence, but through it all, I remembered the strong, gentle hands of the Autobots pulling me to safety. That image clashed violently with the image of Autobots as enemies, the enemies of Russia. 

Maybe my superiors had drilled that belief into me from the beginning—Autobots were not to be trusted, but here I was, alive because of them.

My thoughts wandered, imagining a different life where I hadn't been conditioned to hate the Autobots, where they were allies instead of enemies. Maybe I'd have a better life and not all this suffering. Maybe my burden could go away. Maybe my parents would still be alive. Maybe there would've never been a war back in my hometown. Maybe my life wouldn't be such a mess. Maybe—

Quit it Ember. 

I couldn't afford these thoughts, these betrayals of my training. I was a professional, a soldier, and my duty was to my country, not to the Autobots.

Stop thinking. 

If I went back to Russia empty-handed, I would be branded a failure, ignominious in the eyes of my superiors. The punishment for failure was severe—death, a fate I couldn't afford to face. 

Switch off that side of your brain. 

I snapped out of my thoughts as the groundbridge hummed to life. 

Optimus, Arcee, and Bumblebee emerged from the swirling vortex. Their expressions were grave, and they wasted no time in assessing the situation. Smokescreen materialized from nowhere, dashing up to the scene. I'd assumed that he was with Optimus and the rest, but here he was, at base before all of us. 

"I heard what happened," he said, concern etched on his face. "Is Ember safe?"

Ratchet stepped forward to reassure Smokescreen. "She's safe now," he confirmed, his optics scanning my condition. "But she needs medical attention. Wheeljack—bring her over here."

Wheeljack carefully lifted me from his hand and placed me gently on a nearby gurney. I got comfortable, preparing for my check-up. Jack, Miko, and Raf appeared in my line of vision, as they ran up to where the bots were gathered, which was outside of this glass-like tubular infirmary. There were steps leading up to the gurney and the platform was glowing blue. 

I bet they had been worried sick during my absence, and their relief at seeing me was palpable.

Wheeljack banged his metal fist against the glass. "I found her in Shockwave's custody, Prime. A hundred Decepticon troops were guarding the door to where they had her. It was a damn fortress,"