Elita One sat stiffly on Rung’s couch, her face in her hand, not saying anything.


    “If you’ll allow me, Madame,” Rung began gently, “I could start if you’re finding yourself unable to.”


    Elita ex-vented, dragging her palm over her optics. “Go ahead.”


    Rung adjusted his posture. “Very well, then,” the doctor started. “Do you have a clear memory of what happened last week?”


    Elita’s gaze dropped to the floor. “It’s fuzzy… I just know that my behavior was unacceptable.”


    Rung nodded. “Acknowledgement is a good first step. Not everyone is as introspective.”


    Elita sat up slightly, rubbing the side of her sore right upper arm. It had been welded back on, but still needed to heal internally. It had to be in a sling for a few weeks. She looked to the side, avoiding the other bot’s optics.


    “Can you remember what triggered the episode? You don’t have to answer if you can’t, but it might help me get a better understanding of the incident.”


    A bitter laugh escaped her. “What DIDN’T set me off?”


    Rung lowered his notepad and looked at Elita. “Could you elaborate?”


    Elita sighed. She took a long pause, deciding if she wanted to answer or not. “I felt… Like I was in the same damn place I was back at home.” Elita stood up and began pacing around the room. “Ironhide isn’t the first friend I’ve had to watch die on a hospital bed. Nor is it the first time I’ve had to comfort a loved one while doing so. And every time I see Chromia…” Elita halted mid-step, “Whenever I look at her I just.. I see myself. And when I look at Ironhide I think of when Optimus was critically wounded by Megatron and I- “She sighed again, “I’m being selfish, I know. I need to be focusing on being there for Chromia and my kids, not on my past woes…” She sat back down on the couch, landing a bit too hard. She grabbed her arm and winced in pain from the mild impact.


    Rung scooted over a little closer to his client. “You’re not selfish. You’re just a person like the rest of us are. And a lot— I’d even dare to claim all —of us, are deeply traumatized people. Be easier on yourself.” nm


    “Still not an excuse for my behavior.”


    “Do you think there was any one specific thing that might have triggered a PTSD episode?”


    “No… Well, maybe it was just the sight of Starscream and his stupid smug face.” Her brows furrowed at the thought of the former high-rank Decepticon. “Why does he defend them?”


    “Come again?” Rung adjusted his glasses.


    “Optimus! After all, we’ve been through, after all that animals like Starscream and Megatron did to us!” Elita’s optics glowed brighter as she continued “Don’t get me wrong, Rung. There are many well-reformed ex-cons on the fleet. But some people can’t just… UGH! Who shouldn’t be offered any kindness from us? It’s like Oppie can’t even remember what has happened in the past several billion cycles! I don’t get it! Why does he have to be so relentlessly forgiving? WHY is he allowing Starscream to run loose on the ship and letting Mebatrom just waltz on in whenever he wants?! He didn’t even take my side when our own kid started dating Deadlock!”


    “Drift.”


    “What?”


    “His name


    Is Drift, now.”


    Elita squinted her optics. “Right…”


    “Apologies for interrupting.”


    Elita rubbed her hand against her face. “look, Rung, I know Dead- ugh, DRIFT is a lot more well-mannered than someone of the likes of Starscream. But it doesn''t matter how much he tries to repent. Doesn’t matter how often he meditates or how spiritual he’s become. It doesn’t even matter if he feels genuine remorse! He still has more blood on his hands than most of us do. I mean, is Hot Rod even aware of how many people he’s harmed?”


    “Oh, he knows.”


    “There’s no way he knows.”


    “Elita, trust me, he knows. And he certainly knows a lot more about Drift than either of us do.”


    Elita leaned back in her seat and let another long vent. “Shit… He’s just like his father, isn’t he?” She sat there for a few moments, looking down at her legs, saying nothing.


    “Elita One? Are you alright?”


    “……No.”


    “Do you want to talk about it?”


    “No.”


    Rung could see her free hand gripping her thigh. “Are you certain, madame?”


    Her shoulders began to shake as she tried and failed to choke back on her tears. She covered her face with her hand, turning away.


    Rung brought the chair in closer. “Hey, hey, it’s okay to cry. If there’s anyone you don’t need to hide your tears from, it’s me.” He reached out a hand, but she didn’t take it.


    “I miss him.” Her voice cracked, barely a whisper.


    “Optimus, I take it?”


    Elita silently nodded, wiping tears away from her optics.


    Rung leaned back in his seat, thinking of what to say next. He wasn’t trained as a relationship counselor, but neither was anyone else in the fleet. “Elita, no one comes out of a merge break unscathed. It causes permanent physical damage to your spark. Your tears are more than justified. Never having been part of a merge myself, I can’t even begin to imagine-”


    “We’re still merged.”


    “You are?”


    “Of course we are. We’ve been merged for the majority of our lives. We are bonded for life. Even if we tried to break the merge, we’ve done it too many times. We have far too much of each other’s sparks in our chests to break without killing each other in the process.”


    “Wait, so, You two are split up… but still merged? Elita, you do know that-”


    “YES, I know!” Elita blurted out louder than she intended. “I can’t even hear the sound of his voice without my spark practically trying to leap out of my chest to join his!”


    “And you also know that it’s going to get worse.”


    “Yes… I miss him every day of my life.” She looked at her injured arm. “I know he’s probably feeling it too, but, we can’t merge again. We’ve grown too far apart.”


    Merge breaks were potentially deadly, but there was at least a chance for survival. But unsuccessful merges were always fatal, hence why very few conjunx endures attempted to merge.


    Merging was Primus’s gift to Prima and Megatronus, two of the original 13 primes. The Allspark said to hold a piece of Primus himself’s spark, was what gave Transformers the ability to create offspring without the well. But one Transformer’s spark was not powerful enough to create another without killing the parent. There needed to be at least two. The more people who are a part of the merge, the stronger the resulting offspring will be.


    Spark merging was exactly what it sounded like it was. Two or more transformer sparks temporarily merge into one. For a few moments, the merged become the same person. Sharing all thoughts, emotions, and memories. Afterward, much of it fades away like a dream. But each merge results in leaving a little bit of you in your partner’s spark chamber. Legend says, that if you merge enough times your bodies combine permanently. But no Transformer has been able to prove that as true.


    Elita and Optimus merged a few cycles after the war had started. Both knew it was a horrible idea at the time, but the spark doesn’t always ask for permission. Sometimes the merge just happens accidentally while interfacing. To create new life, it couldn’t just be one merge. It was a very complicated process that involved both recreation interfacing and spark merging. Elita and Optimus had planned to have a sparkling after the war, but they never got the chance to. Sometimes, Elita allowed her mind to wonder what their child would have looked like. She missed having children, but both she and Optimus refused to bring a new spark into a world that may not have even been there by the time they grew up.


    Rung was genuinely at a loss for words. He desperately wanted to offer advice, but even he wasn’t sure how he’d handle the situation if he were in Elita One’s place. But alas, he tried his best. “If you don''t mind me asking, how is your relationship with Hot Rod, currently?”


    Elita let out a groan. “I think he’s still angry at me. I also think he’s been deliberately avoiding having to see or speak to me.”


    “And why do you think that might be?”


    “He knows I don’t want him around Drift.” She began absently fidgeting with one of her antennae, “I know he’s far more than old enough to be making his own decisions. And I know he’s confident about Dea-Drift being reformed. But dammit, that’s my KID! How could I just smile and nod while watching him put all his love and trust into someone with a past like Drift’s!”


    Rung took off his glasses and removed a cloth from his storage space to clean them. “Correct me if I’m out of line here Elita… but have you ever considered trying to get to know Drift yourself?”


    “Hah! I''d sooner adopt a scraplet!”


    “I’m serious. You should consider it. It may ease the tension between you and Hot Rod. And hey, if you find some current dirt on him, you’d have the satisfaction of proving your point.”


    “That’s one of the things I’m afraid of. I’m already on bad terms with Roddy, the last thing I want to do is be the one to break his spark. I can’t always be the bad guy here!”


    “Elita, I’m going to be honest with you. We live a VERY long time. We’ve all been through more pain than we can measure. The one thing keeping all of us sane, and therefore alive, is family and camaraderie. We need to fight for the people we have in our lives now before we end up having to spend the rest of our long, painful lives without them. And I think it would be a great benefit to you and Hot Rod to have you both here, but he would have to agree to come along.”


    Elita stopped for a moment to think. “Maybe I’ll have civil a chat with Drift… but I doubt Roddy will agree to come to therapy,” she murmured.


    “That’s fine. Perhaps you may even start to understand Prime’s view on things a bit more.” Rung gently set his glasses back on, pushing them in with his index finger.


    Elita turned sharply, antennae twitching. “The only way I’m ever going to understand Oppie’s reasoning for being so easy on dangerous ex-cons is if I merged with him again. And like I said, the resentment that has grown between us— It’s too risky.”


    “Then maybe…” Rung tried to sound like he knew what he was talking about. “Maybe you could try to start over instead? I think what you have in mind is jumping back into the relationship right where you two left off. But lovers don’t always work out that way. Sometimes, starting over slowly is the best way to rebuild a relationship with an ex-conjunx.”


    Elita waited another moment, then stood up and began pacing around again.


    “Elita One?”


    She stopped pacing, biting the tips of her fingers. “I doubt he’d ever want me back. Especially not after what happened the other day. And even before that, the last time we had a real conversation we had…”She hesitated, looking away. “It was not long after the war ended. An argument. A bad one. Intense argument over Megatron.”


    “The war ending is what caused you to split?”


    “not entirely,” Elita said quickly. “At first I was elated, Just like everyone else. But then Oppie wouldn’t tell me why. And then he started visiting Megatron in prison. I was just so FRUSTRATED with him suddenly not telling me anything! And when we discovered the supernova, that’s when it happened. The argument, I mean. He wouldn’t stop INISITING that Megatron was a reformed bot and that we should let him on the fleet instead of just executing him.”


    Rung tilted his head.“Hasn’t Optimus always been highly against executions?”


    “OF COURSE! But it’s MEGATRON. There is not a shred of doubt in my mind that he is taking advantage of Oppie’s forgiving nature, and has somehow convinced my sparkmate that D-16 is still in there somewhere!”


    “Elita,” Rung said carefully, “Megatron is also my client. I can’t delve into personal patient information, and I won’t claim to understand everything that goes on in his mind, but I can tell you that he’s trying. I can see it He’s trying as hard as he can.”


    “Then he’s lying to you, too. Do you honestly think he’s not just going to shoot Oppie in the back and try to take over Theta-3 the moment we land?”


    “And do YOU honestly think Megatron would even attempt to do that when Autobots and Nuetrals greatly outnumber the surviving Decepticons? He doesn’t even have his fusion canon anymore. He left it back on-.” He slapped a hand over his mouth, optics widening. “Scrap… I wasn’t supposed to share that information.”


    “What did you just say?”


    “I wasn’t supposed to “


    “He left his fusion canon back on Cybertron?!”


    Rung shut his optics, slapping his palm against his forehead. “Uuugh…. Yes. But do NOT tell anyone else!”


    Elita Blinked. “I had always assumed he at least wore it on the Nemesis…”


    Megatron’s fusion canon might as well have been permanently welded onto his arm. He never went anywhere without that thing. He even slept with it on. And if rumors were true, he didn’t take it off while interfacing either.


    Elita’s optics darted around the floor, processing the new information. “But why would he leave it?”


    “He wasn’t lying about his vow against violence.” Rung explained gently. “I completely understand your anger and resentment towards him, but I think his actions have been speaking louder than his words. He never wants to see that canon again in his life.”


    Elita sank back down into her seat, her expression torn. Again, she didn’t speak for several moments. Rung gave her time to think. She rubbed the back of her neck. “I…. forget it—“


    “Come again, Madame?”


    “Oppie… I want to trust his judgment so badly but—“ her optics flared in frustration. “I DON’T KNOW!” She grabbed one of her antennae, tugging at it as she fought back the threat of tears.


    Rung offered his hand again, this time she took it. “I can’t tell you what to do, Elita. But I can see that you still care for him. Who’s to say he doesn’t miss you just as much?”


    Elita looked at her arm, gently placing her hand over the injury. “It was… it was just so easy for him to cut it off… No hesitation.”


    “And you think that hasn’t been tearing him up inside ever since? You know him better than any of us, Elita.”


    “I suppose…” She vented.


    “Bonded for life, remember?”


    She managed a weak laugh “I do still feel bad for throwing him.” She got up for a final time. “I should go apologize… Right now.”


    “While I admire your determination, you still have a day left to spend in psychiatric care. Just be patient, we still have at least 10 cycles to go on this ride, he’ll still be there when you get out.”


    “I hope you’re right about him, Rung. I want to believe you so badly.”


    He wanted to say “I hope I am, too.” but decided it was unwise. Instead, he just nodded.


    “Well Elita, I’m glad I got the chance to speak with you. But I’m afraid our time is almost up, and my next client should be coming in soon.”


    “I understand. Thank you, Rung. Truly.”


    Rung reached out to shake her hand but was surprised with a hug instead. “Oh!” He awkwardly patted her on the back. “Um… Thank you!”


    When she let go of Rung, she wiped away one last tear before saying her final goodbye. Once outside the office, she was supposed to go back to psych care with Chase. She hated having to be supervised like a child, but she knew it was a temporary policy for psych patients were were in care due to violent behavior. Chase was only doing his job.


    But Elita found herself distracted once she spotted Bumblebee waiting outside for his appointment.


    “Hello, Little Bee.” she knelt and welcomed him into a hug. They pressed their foreheads together. “I’m so, so sorry about what I did, Little Bee. I must have worried you sick!”


    Bee took his mother’s hands into his own. “I’m not angry at you, just worried. We all are— especially Dad.”


    Chase walked up from behind Elita. “Ma’am, it’s time to go.”


    “Just give us a moment, please.”


    “Elita-“


    Bumblebee separated from Elita and then placed himself between her and Chase. His horns curled back and his door wings raised as a warning. The hole in his neck vibrated with a low growl.


    “Woah there, little guy!” Chase raised his hands. “I’m not going to harm her.”This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Bumblebee stared the officer down, juking forward at him.


    “Bumblebee! What has gotten into you?”


    Bee lowered his wings and looked back at Elita, frowning with his big blue optics dimmed.


    “I’m sorry, Chase.”She stepped between him and Bee. “He’s just being protective.” She turned back to Bee and gently caressed his crest. “I’ll be alright, Little Bee. Chase is only following policy.”


    Bumblebee sheepishly looked at Chase. He mouthed the words, “I’m sorry…” before running into Rung’s office.


    Rung saw his client rush in, “Woah, Bee, what’s the rush?”


    Bumblebee lightly shook his head, signifying a, “Nothing”


    Rung looked behind the small mech. “Where’s Optimus? Could he not make it?”


    Bumblebee shook his head again, horns curled down.


    “That’s alright. We can take this as slowly as you need. We don’t even have to discuss your experience today if you can’t do it.”


    “Thank you…” Bee mouthed.


    “Very well. Is there anything else on your mind that you want to talk about?”


    Bumblebee’s horns slightly perked back up. He took Rung’s hands. “Well, Windblade is back on the Ark…”


    Rung’s big eyebrows raised. “Ah! Thought I saw her pass by me in the halls the other day. How have you two been?”


    Bumblebee looked down, his optics glowing slightly brighter, “Well, we’ve been hanging out a lot…”


    Rung leaned forward, smiling. “Aaand?”


    “I haven’t told her yet— It almost slipped out while we were drinking together last night, but I chickened out again. I’m not sure I can do this, Rung. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before…”


    “Oh, Bee,” Rung said softly.


    “I know you said I should give it a shot but, haven’t been the same since…” Bumblebee took a deep vent. “Since the injury.” He paused and looked at the stars outside of Rung’s window. “When we first met, it was at a victory celebration where I was singing in a gig with Jazz, Blaster, and the cassettes. She said she loved my voice… And when I first spoke to her, I made her laugh. A lot. She loved my jokes…” He closed his optics and dropped his head. “But now… I’m angrier. Always, frustrated, always in pain. I’m always running on low power because I have nightmares whenever I try to recharge. Maybe if I had realized how I felt much, much sooner, I would have had a chance. But now-“


    “Bumblebee, you are the same person as before. You’re traumatized, and I’m certain Windblade is wise enough to understand what trauma does to someone.”


    Bumblebee looked back out the window. “Maybe you have a point… She’s also had her share of scarring memories during the war after all.”


    “Look around you. Trauma may have changed you, yes. But you are still loved. I’m not sure there’s even anyone else on the Ark that has as many friends as you, Bee.”


    Bumblebee turned and looked back at Rung. “I really love her, Rung. But I’m so scared.”


    Rung gave his client’s hands a comforting squeeze. “Loving someone that deeply is extremely rare. I’m several vorns older than you are, and even I have yet to meet someone I feel that way about. Even if she says no, I truly think it’s worth a shot.”


    Bumblebee took a deep vent, his optics dimming briefly before glowing steadily again. “You really think so?”


    “I do.”


    Bee leaned back into his seat, letting go of Rung’s hands. He thought for a while, then nodded, a light smile appearing on his face.


    The rest of the session was uneventful, but Rung did give Bee a prescription for sleep-aiding medication. “These are in extremely low supply, and a lot of bots need it. Don’t take any more than your prescribed dose, because you won’t get an early refill.”


    Bumblebee gave an acknowledging nod.


    Rung patted Bee’s shoulder on his was out. “Good luck, Bumblebee. And whatever happens, you can always come talk to me.” He lowered his voice to a light whisper. “I’ll even let you in when I’m off work.”


    Bumblebee smiled, then gave Rung his second hug that day, this one being a lot tighter.


    “Haha, Th-thank you Bee.”


    Bumblebee was the last scheduled appointment Rung had that day. Now he was open for walk-ins. He took the opportunity to take a break and brew himself a cup of energeon tea. He was just about to pour in his sweetener when a red, white, and black mech forced the door open, ran in, and started yelling incoherently.


    “HE IS HERE. HE IS HERE AND HE HAS FOUND US AND WE SHALL BE CONSUMED BY HIS LUST FOR AGONY!!!!!!!!”


    “Woah, woah, WOAH! Hey!” Rung backed up. “Red Alert! Let’s try to settle down!”


    “HE SHALL PUNISH US FOR ATTEMPTING TO ESCAPE OUR FATE! I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN AND NOBODY BELIEVED ME!!!!!!”


    “How about we just sit down, and you can tell me all about it. And….” Rung looked around the room. “Where is your supervisor?”


    “THEY WOULDN’T LISTEN!!! I SAW HIM! I SAW HIM AMONGST THE STARS!!!!!”


    Rung pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh, jeez— Alright just sit down, Red Alert. I’ll listen to you.”


    “Yes! Thank you, Doctor! Thank you!” Red Alert aggressively shook Rung’s hand with both of his, nearly lifting the much smaller mech off the ground.


    Red Alert cautiously sat down on the couch, optics fixated on the window. Rung sat down across from him.


    “What’s the matter, mate?”


    “UNICRON, GOD OF CHAOS AND CONSUMER OF WORLDS SHALL REIN HIS VENGEANCE DOWN UPON US!”


    Rung blinked, “Inside voices, Red. I can’t understand a thing you’re saying when you’re yelling like that.”


    “OH- I’m sorry.”


    “That’s much better.” Rung gestured for him to proceed.


    Red Alert cleared his throat, “I was looking out the window at the rear of the ship. And I-I-I saw him, Rung! I saw him! Unicron has followed us!” Red Alert was trembling as if he had just witnessed a murder.


    “Red Alert—“ Rung sighed, “we’ve been through this. You’re just seeing Shaula from a distance.”


    “No, no it’s not like last time! It’s not a star! I saw something MOVE!”


    “Red, did you take your medication today?”


    Red Alert stiffly shook his head.


    “Do you think we should probably go do that?”


    “They only make me take them to shut me up!”


    Rung shut his optics, rubbing his temples. “We’re trying to look out for you, Red.”


    “No, no, not you too! You’re the only one on this ship who listens to me!”


    “And I am still listening to you, Red Alert. But you aren’t well right now. Paranoid Personality Disorder makes it difficult to rationalize. The meds you take help you think more clearly and be less frightened.”


    “NO NO NO NO NO! HE IS UPON US!!!”


    First Aid suddenly stumbled in. “Come on, Red Please don’t make this difficult!”


    Red Alert shoved First Aid over as he barreled back out the door. He could be heard outside, transforming and speeding away. Rung leaped up to stop him, but First Aid was too quick to get to his feet and hold out a hand in front of him.


    “This is my job, Rung. You stay right there!” The medic transformed inside the office and drove after Red Alert, scraping the inside of Rung’s door frame on the way out.


    “Bloody hell…” Rung murmured.


    Red Alert was practically a permanent resident in psychiatric care. Always fearful and constantly on suicide watch. He was SUPPOSED to be working as the ship’s security director, which was a job he used to excel at. But the troubled mech was so shaken by the war that it left him in a constant state of paranoia. The voyage had only been worsening the poor bot’s condition.


    Rung was able to finally finish preparing his tea. He sat down and began sipping on his drink, trying to take Red Alert off his mind. It wasn’t long before he heard someone knock on his door.


    Rung leaned his head back in his seat, exasperated. “Break is in 2 hours.” He reminded himself before calling out to his next client to come in.


    A young fembot shyly poled her head through the door frame, the signature Camien tattoos on her face making it clear who it was.


    “Windblade! Please,” Rung gestured towards the couch, smiling. “have a seat.”


    The Camien jet sat down in the center of the couch, back straight and shoulders tense.


    “Saw Bee earlier today. I won’t go into specifics, but he always says good things about you!”


    Windblade nervously laughed. “Yea… Bee is great.” She forced an awkward smile, tapping her thighs with her fingers.


    “Was there something you wanted to see me for?”


    “I’m just… Checking in on my mental status. Always important to keep both mind and body healthy after all!” She gave another awkward laugh.


    Rung raised an eyebrow. “You seem a bit tense.”


    “Who? Me? Nooooo, I’m fine! Well I mean, I’m not completely FINE. Why would I be here if I was totally fine!” Windblade responded, still smiling.


    “Alright… So, what was-“


    “I had sex with Starscream.”


    Rung nearly spat out his tea. “…………Come again?” He asked, feeling his spark drop to the pit of his fuel processor.”


    “AAARGH! I don’t know what I was thinking!” Windblade suddenly raised her voice. “I felt so awful for him after the incident with Elita. His stay in the med bay was extended due to the assault. I went to visit him in his new room, alone.”


    “Please— don’t tell me you did it in the medbay.”


    Windblade tapped her thumbs together. “No… I snuck him back to my quarters for the night. At first, we were just going to have a few drinks…”


    Windblade explained what happened that night;


    She had walked Starscream to her quarters, with him still sore from the two previous attacks.


    He walked up to her mirror. He hadn’t seen his own reflection since before the first attack. His armor was covered in scratches. The soft alloy that made up his face was scarred and still very sore. “I look like shit.” He huffed.


    “You can borrow some of my makeup if you’d like.”


    Starscream’s optics widened. “Really? Where is it?”


    “First drawer under that mirror.”


    “Ooooh!~” Starscream opened the drawer, seeing various containers of face polish and lip paint.


    Windblade walked up next to him. “I think you should use the medicated faceplate polish. It won’t irritate the cuts on your face and might help soothe the pain a little.”


    Starscream held up a tube of deep red lip paint, smiling at it. “Mind if I borrow this one too?”


    Windblade playfully giggled, “Sure, Star!” She took her entire makeup kit out of the drawer and set it down on her window-seal. Then sat on it with Starscream after she brought two pints of low-grade. The lights in the room were off, save for one lamp. This way, they had a clear view of the gorgeous stars and nebulae that painted the black backdrop of the void.


    “You know, as much as I hate this goddamn trip-” Starscream started gazing out at the universe as he rubbed polish around his cheek, “I’ll never get tired of this view. Even the clearest nights on Cybertron didn’t look this spectacular.”


    Windblade leaned back against the wall with her arms crossed. “Neither did the nights on Caminus.”


    “Ah, yes… forgot about that colony.”


    “Windblade furrowed her brow” You certainly wouldn’t be the first.


    “Sorry about the whole er…. The whole thing about your planet running out of resources and everyone dying… thing.”


    Windblade raised an eyebrow at the red seeker and snickered. “You aren’t very practiced at consoling people, are you?”


    Starscream half-heartedly shrugged, looking into a hand mirror as he painted his lips. “Oh, I look absolutely delectable in this color!”


    “It does look great on you! You can keep it if you want. I have a spare, anyway.”


    “Why think you, darling!” Starscream turned his face from side to side, admiring himself in the mirror. His expression changed for a moment.


    “Something wrong, Star?”


    The seeker slightly narrowed his optics. “Why exactly don’t you hate me just like everyone else?”


    Windblade looked into the mech’s optics. “I guess I just figured you needed someone to have your back.”


    “I can take care of myself!” Starscream snapped, immediately regretting it and softening his tone, “But, er… thanks for not despising me, I guess…”


    Windblade tilted her head. “Can I be honest, Starscream?”


    “What is it?”


    “I think you have trust issues.”


    Starscream gasped, clutching his chassis in mock surprise, “NO, do I?”


    Windblade smirked, taking a sip of her drink. “I can’t exactly say I blame you. But I do think you should try to be a bit more open about making friends. It’s not gonna be as easy making it to Theta-3 with your sanity if you spend the entire trip alone. We all need each other right now.”


    Starscream creased his eyebrows and batted his optics. “But aren’t WE~ friends?” He lightheartedly exaggerated.


    Windblade laughed. “Yeah, I’d say we are.”


    They sat in companionable silence for a while, watching the stars. This distance between them seemed to shrink when Starscream slowly turned back and looked into the optics of the other jet. “Windblade…” he started, his voice barely a whisper.


    “Yes?” Windblade whispered back.


    “Those markings on your face— did you emerge from Caminu’s forge with them?”


    “They’re tribal tattoos, actually.”


    Starscream softly smiled. “Very interesting! Your pain tolerance must be something to admire.”


    “Oh, don’t even REMIND me.” Windblade exaggerated, making Starscream slightly giggle.


    “I think they’re beautiful.”


    Winblade blushed and bashfully averted her optics. “Th-Thank you!” She mustered up the courage to look back into his optics, softer than she had ever seen them before. “Did you emerge with the black tearstain markings?”


    “Yes, and so did my siblings. Faceplate markings are very common in seekers.”


    Starscream had thick black markings covering his optic lids, like permanent mascara. Markings known as ‘tear stains’ ran down from his optics to the start of his neck. Markings like this were often considered physically attractive in many cultures.


    “You’re very handsome. But I’m guessing you are already aware of that.” Winblade complimented, her spark fluttering.


    “I am aware of that, thank you.” Starscream took a long sip of his drink, still looking at the fembot.


    The air felt thicker and a subtle scent of pheromones began to emanate from both bot’s bodies. Starscream and Windblade bridged the gap between them, pressing each other lips together. The kiss was far more gentle than Windblade would have expected from Starscream.


    Once they pulled apart, both seemed at a loss for words. They stared into each other’s optics for a few moments before going back in for another tender kiss.


    Windblade ended her story there, sparing Rung the more intimate details.


    “After we— Ahem, did our thing… we lay in bed for a while and shared a joint. He opened up to me a little bit more.” Windblade fiddled with a loose thread on the arm of her chair. “I think there’s a lot more to him than people think.”


    Rung shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his one antennae twitching. “……uh-huh.”


    “He mentioned he used to be conjunxed with Megatron. Can you believe that? And they were together for a long time, too. I think that relationship really hurt him…” Windblade looked down at her thighs, the memory of Starscream’s lip paint smeared all over them making her blush. “Rung, I know he’s older than me, but I…”


    Rung forced a smile, trying to ignore the voice in his mind saying, “Oh good heavens, please don’t say what I think you are going to say, PLEASE.”


    “…I think I have deeper feelings for him. But I’ve never had feelings for someone before, so, I’m not sure what to do next. Especially considering who he is…”


    Rung’s optics squinted, still forcing a smile. “Oh my god, what have I done? Bumblebee is going to be crushed!” he thought silently to himself.


    “I’m also a bit concerned that he won’t want me. I mean, he obviously finds me attractive, but everyone knows he usually prefers larger mechs over fembots.” Her leg restlessly shook, heel tapping on the metal floor. “He said Megatron used to carry him around on his shoulder. Used to call him his Lucky Star… I think Starscream really misses that kind of affection, but I’m not sure I can give it to him. I’m a lot smaller and weaker than Megs, after all.”


    Rung scratched the back of his neck. “Well, I don’t think you should rush into things.” He paused for a moment, rubbing his temples. “But I also don’t think it’s useful comparing yourself to someone’s Ex.”


    “Yea… Maybe. I guess I’m just nervous about asking him if we could be conjunx enduras, or at least test the waters for a while and see how things go.”


    “D-Don’t you think you may be going too fast?”


    “Romantic love is so rare in this universe, Rung. I’m not sure I’d want to risk wasting this chance. Would you?”


    Rung leaned back, steepling his fingers in thought. “Windblade, it’s perfectly natural to seek romantic connection, especially after facing so much loss. But I think you need to consider what you’d be getting involved with. Starscream, by his own admission, is a rather complex individual. And you can’t enter a healthy relationship based on trying to fix someone who doesn’t want help.”


    Windblade frowned, wings dipping slightly. “I’m not trying to fix him. He just…. He just needs someone who believes in him and has his back. I can see that he’s always scared and tries to hide it. He’s spent most of his life being hated and has gone through so much abuse. Nobody else seems to see what I see in him….


    Rung slowly nodded. “That’s not a bad start, but are you even sure HE’S ready for a connection like that? The turbulence of his past relationships is not exactly a secret.”


    “Uugh! That’s because he was abused in nearly all of his past relationships! He still has chronic pain from his damaged voice box, for Primus''s sake!” Windblade snapped. She lowered her voice. “I’m sorry! Sorry… I shouldn’t have yelled.”


    “His voice box is damaged? Well, that sure explains a lot. Should’ve been obvious in hindsight.”


    “Rung!”


    Rung held up his hands a little. “Apologies! That wasn’t appropriate of me.”


    Winblade ex-vented. “Look, I get it. Nobody on this fleet likes him. But you’ve personally seen Drift’s reform, as well as Megatron’s of all people. If a monster like Megatron could be a better person— I think… —Then why couldn’t Starscream?”


    “Megatron and Drift WANTED help. That’s the difference. Starscream is an extremely stubborn person who refuses help from anyone who offers it. He’s very well known for this.”


    “Well then maybe he just hasn’t met anyone who makes him feel safe enough to trust.”


    “Windblade…. You can’t fix someone who doesn’t want to be.”


    “But- I want to help him. I… I think I’m in love with him. And because of that, I don’t want him to be in pain anymore. I care about him.”


    “DOD DAMN IT,” Rung thought to himself, still trying his best to be professional and supportive. He couldn’t lie to his client, she had a few solid points. If Megatron could learn to cope with his issues, then it theoretically should be possible for someone like Starscream. But Rung personally did not have the slightest bit of confidence when it came to that bot. His stubbornness and arrogance were legendary. Rung had also formally diagnosed the seeker with a laundry list of mental illnesses. Narcissistic Personality Disorder, CPTSD, Bipolar Disorder, and whatever the hell else he didn’t have time to test him for. And Primus almighty, was he a combative patient.


    Rung gently set his tea aside and clasped his hands together. “I understand. Love is elusive, and you want to bring out the best in him. You’re a good person, Windblade. But I think you need to be approaching this with caution—“


    “THE GOD OF CHAOS IS UPON US!!!!! KNEEL AND PRAY THAT PRIMUS HAVE MERCY ON YOUR SPARKS!!!!”


    “Oh no.”


    “YOU CANNOT ESCAPE YOUR FATES!!!”


    “Um… What is going on outside your office?”


    “HIS TEETH WILL GRIND OUR METAL INTO DUST AND HIS EYES WILL BURN THROUGH OUR VERY SPARKS!!!!”


    Rung let out a long, exasperated sigh, “Red Alert.”


    Red Alert forced the door open again and ran in, startling Windblade and causing her to jump out of her seat, wings fully extended.


    “It’s okay Windblade! He’s harmless! He’s just confused!”


    First Aid stumbled through the door again, this time followed by Ratchet and Jazz.


    Jazz attempted to rationalize with Red Alert, “Come on, man. We’re your friends! You’ve known Ratch and me for vorns!”


    “You two have just been playing me for a fool all this time and you know it!”


    “Red, you’re sick! Please come back, we’ll help you!” Ratchet said.


    Rung tried to step in. “Now Red, I know you’re scared and frustrated right now. Being medicated will take that away.”


    “Sure! But then it will just come back? Won’t it?! This is the real me, Rung! And I’m not crazy!”


    Rung could see First Aid quietly sneaking up behind Red Alert, small syringe in hand. It was the kind used to inject through the neck or a joint. “You’re right, Red. You aren’t crazy, you’re just unwell.”


    “JUST SHUT UP, SHUT UP” Red Alert grabbed the sides of his helmet and screamed, curling over on the floor.


    Rung, nor anyone else in that room, had ever seen Red Alert get this bad.


    Windblade felt obligated to help settle the frantic mech down. She slowly approached him, “Hey, you’re gonna be okay buddy. Everyone here wants to keep you safe.” She knelt next to him.


    Ratchet was quick to warn, “Windblade! I know you’re trying to help, but you need to stay back and let us take care of this!” But he said it too late. The moment Windblade placed a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him, his gut reaction was to strike her in self-defense. She was hit directly in the optic and was knocked out. Rung, Ratchet, and Jazz rushed to her side as First Aid used the distraction as an opportunity to jab his syringe right into Red Alert’s neck. The effect was instant, and he passed out. He was unharmed, only having fallen asleep.


    First Aid rolled the unconscious Autobot to his back. “I’m so sorry, friend. I didn’t want to do it.” First Aid’s voice cracked.


    Rung’s composed demeanor was thrown out the window, “Oh my God! Oh my God- Windblade! Can you hear me?!” He lightly but firmly shook her by the shoulders.


    Windblade’s optics were dim and half-open, the injured one was flickering. A little bit of bright pink blood trickled down from it like a tear.


    “Shit!” Jazz yelled, “Ratchet, is she gonna be okay?!”


    “Everyone get back!” Ratchet pushed Jazz and Rung aside. He knelt next to Windblade. “Jazz, go get more medics while First Aid takes care of Red!”


    Jazz left for the medbay without hesitation.


    Ratchet took a look at Rung, who was trembling and hyperventilating. “Rung, you look like you’re about to have a panic attack!”


    “I-I am having one!”


    “Shit— Just go sit down and try to relax, I need space!”


    Rung stepped back, his legs threatening to give out from how much they were shaking.


    “She isn’t going grey and I can feel her spark beating. She’s alive.”


    While Ratchet was trying to take a closer look at Windblade’s damaged optic, a low groan came from her frame to everyone’s immense relief.


    “Oh thank heavens!” Rung exclaimed.


    Winblade’s optics fluttered open. “Augh! What just happened?”


    “You were knocked out. Take it easy.”


    “What happened to Red Alert- OH MY GOD! Am I missing an optic?!” She felt around the side of her face that was hit. “I can’t see out of this one!”


    “You’re fine!” Ratchet firmly reassured. “It probably just came a little loose. I’ve seen it happen more times than I can remember.”


    Her face and the back of her neck were very sore from the impact. Thankfully, the hit wasn’t strong enough to have likely caused serious injury, and it took a lot more than being knocked out to cause real brain damage in a Transformer.


    “Hold still, this is going to hurt like a motherfucker.” Ratchet warned Winblade.


    “WAIT WHAT ARE- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!”


    Within a second, Ratchet had used his thumb to forcibly push her optic fully back into its socket. He released when he felt the ‘click’ from it setting in.


    Rung looked away, nearly losing his tea. “Ratchet! Was it REALLY necessary to do that right here?”


    “You couldn’t have at least sedated me first?!” Winbladed added, rubbing her optic.


    “Sorry— field medic habit. But can you see now?”


    “Ugh…” Winblade’s optic blinked open. “It’s blurry but… Yea, I think l so.”


    “That’s normal. You’ll be okay, kid.” Ratchet patted Windblade on the back after she sat up.


    Jazz and Knockout came back just in time. Ratchet sent Windblade with them to get an optic patch. She wouldn’t need to stay in the hospital, but the optic still needed to be examined in a less chaotic environment.


    Ratchet made sure to check on Rung. “You okay, pal?”Rung was still venting heavily. Ratchet held him by the shoulders and rubbed them. “You’re okay, buddy. You’re okay. I think you should take an early break and get some rest.”


    “Yea…” Rung took in a deep vent. “Okay... I’ll do that.”


    “Need me to get you anything?”


    “Plain liquid energon, please.”


    Ratchet luckily had a tube of some in his storage compartment. He gave it to Rung, who thanked him. Ratchet stayed with his fellow doctor till he was finished drinking and calmed down.


    Rung took Ratchet’s advice and took an early break. He pressed a button on his terminal, changing the sign on his door to read ‘closed’, and list what time he’d be back.


    His tea was cold by now, so he quickly drank the rest of it, not wishing to waste the energon. He turned the radio on— anything to help him shake off the lingering anxiety gripping his chest.


    The voice of Rewind, who had been substituting for Blaster ever since Iornhide’s suicide attempt, could be heard on the radio. He was saying something or whatnot. Rung wasn’t paying attention, he just needed the background noise.


    He set his alarm for an hour and a half before laying down in his bed to take a much-needed nap. It took him about 30 minutes to go into recharge mode, his mind fixated on what he had just seen. He was only able to relax after resorting to his very limited supply of anxiety medication. It was a small tube of liquid that had to be injected into a port on his wrist. It offered near-instant relief.


    When he woke up, he didn’t feel very well-rested but knew he didn’t have time to keep recharging. He had slept through his alarm and only had around 20 minutes left of his break.


    He turned to his side, reaching for the datapad on his nightstand. He needed to see who his next client was. When he read the next name on the list, he sat up, grabbed a pillow, and screamed into it.