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The water cools down the burn of her stomach. Quickly, she drinks another glass and then fills a third to take to her room. The world spins a little too loosely around her as she turns around and she has to steady herself against the counter. She immediately glances up at Ratchet, thankfully still buried in his work. He knows nothing. She pushes herself away from the counter and walks away.
The little room she’s been given in the base overlooks the main hall, so close to the very centre of operations that sometimes she is woken up in the night by the green light of the bridge. She usually does remember to close the blinds, but other times she prefers to keep them open to feel less lonely in her room.
Sometimes it still gets too much and she moves to the beat-up couch of the overlook, under the cold pull of the air conditioning to be closer to someone else.
The rhythmic clack-clack-clack of metallic fingertips on smooth glass is quite a relaxing sound when attempting to fall asleep, it seems to fall within the same category of distant conversations and rainfall.
When she does that, Ratchet makes sure to check up on her from time to time and keep the other bots posted on the sleeping human, mainly to make sure that nobody wakes her up.
Ratchet’s got a gruff personality and he’s a little bit too pedantic for anyone’s good but makes sure not to be too harsh on the human in their care. He’s experienced enough to see when someone is simply too sensitive to endure his usual way of communication and prefers not to make the little one cry and shy away.
He wants to be respected, not feared by someone entrusted within his care.
Optimus worries for the human. It is easy for him to notice when she’s unwell, physically or emotionally. He makes her feel safe just by being present, no matter how horrific she feels at that moment.
A solid wall of living metal that wants nothing but the best for you does wonders to a person’s state of mind.
He worries for her, as lately she has been more withdrawn and slower than usual but hasn’t had the time to talk to her about it due to more pressing matters.
Now that the most intense missions are over and his soldiers, his family members are all safe and in Ratchet’s skilled hands, he devotes an evening to the smaller things in his life.
-
She stands up in her room and visibly stops as the blood rushes to her feet. Briefly, her vision darkens out and she has to rely on her desk for support, but she’s not about to pass out now.
She decides that she needs another cup of tea to distract her from that horrific gnawing sensation.
She feels horrible, her muscles ache and her vision swims when she turns around but she wants to know how long she can endure it. The feeling of an empty cup weighing heavy in her hand scares her, she’s never felt this weak before.
Suddenly, she feels like she’s being watched and judged for her miserable hand strength.
Optimus follows her movements closely. Why is she so weak? He turns to Ratchet: “Have you any observations of interest about our small friend?”
Ratchet stops typing and thinks. His brows draw together. “She’s seemed awfully quiet these past few days, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary during long missions with the rest of you out on the field. How come?”
“She seems uncharacteristically unwell.”
“That doesn’t mean anything, Optimus. She’s a human, they will withdraw upon any inconvenience.”
“I must talk with her. I have a feeling that she is not telling us something, and whatever that is, it is affecting her quite a lot. I cannot have one member of the team suffer alone simply because it would be easier for us to ignore her, or because it happens often. In fact, I believe that the very truth alone that this is not an isolated incident should be all the more reason to check up on her wellbeing.”
“Knock yourself out.”
She looks at the two bots. They’re clearly talking about something important, so she dares not open the door in fear of interrupting the train of thought. She only pushes the handle after Optimus turns away from Ratchet.
As she does so, she notices that the bot is actually heading her way, so slowly she pulls back and releases the handle without opening the door. She’d rather not talk to him right now, he tends to speak at length and in elaborate sentences and she feels like her thoughts are made out of wallpaper adhesive at the moment.
Maybe she could lie and say that she has a headache and can’t talk.
“Little archivist, I must speak with you.”
Oh god. She pushes the handle again and hears the telltale click of a door not having been completely closed before being opened again. She cringes at it as she knows that Optimus had to have heard it too. He does hear it but does not judge her for hesitating.
“There you are. Ratchet and I have noticed a decline in your state of wellbeing, would you be willing to provide us with an explanation and perhaps consent to a medical examination? We simply want to ensure that you are in good health.”
Optimus’ words feel like a smack in the face. Even after all these months she’s spent with the Autobots, his directness still leaves her speechless at times.
She stands in her doorway for a moment, trying to formulate a response that wouldn’t be so much of a lie that she’d be caught for lying while also somehow being not alarming enough to warrant more concern.
“I’ve just been a bit stressed out from that series of missions you all went on. I can never know when one of you comes back home injured or dead.”
Optimus can tell that she’s lying.
“I will not push the issue further, little one, but I want you to know that you can always speak to any one of us, at any point and about anything. You are a part of this team, and it is of utmost importance to us that you remain well.”
His optics remain upon her, searching for answers. He hates this feeling of helplessness that comes with not having the complete trust of one of his crew.
“Thanks. Really, it’s just stress. I’m just glad that you’re all back now”, she mutters.
Technically, she’s not lying, just being selective about the truth. Optimus nods, she nods back, and then he turns around and walks away. He makes sure to move slower than usual, just in case she changes her mind about it.
She doesn’t.
She’s left standing at her door, cup still in hand and her limbs heavy. She decides against the tea and steps back into her room.
-
A few hours later, as she decides to go for that cup of tea, she slips. Her foot seems to just forget that she’s on a staircase and steps forward as if on solid ground, and she falls.
She manages to save her dear teacup, but bangs seemingly every single bone in her body against some edge or railing on the way down.
She remains on the ground, moaning in pain and trying to pull some air back into her lungs at the same time.
“Primus, what was that? Little archivist, are you alright?” Ratchet exclaims and immediately abandons his work to go check up on her. He reaches out for her, but pauses at the last moment as the image of broken bones springs into his mind.
She groans and slowly rolls over to her back. The thud of her shoulder blade against the hard floor pulls another moan of pain from her. A bright red stream of blood trickles from her face and mixes in with her hair.
Ratchet shakes his head to rid it of doubt and reaches for her. Carefully, he slides his servos underneath her stiff and wiggling body, mindful of her lungs still struggling for air.
As soon as he’s certain that she’s secured in his palm, he makes his way to the berth on the other side of the room. She groans again in his grasp as her body jolts with his steps.
Slowly and carefully, she sets her down on the cold, hard metal surface of the berth. She stirs again and cries out in pain.
“Stay still. I need to scan you”, Ratchet says curtly, but his wavering tone undermines his command. He’s worried, but trusts his scanner to tell him how worried he needs to be.
She feels the ray sink into her body, bite into her tissues and prick at her skin. For a moment, she even feels it cradle her stomach, twist and pull it like rubber.
While the ray doesn’t hurt, she doesn’t necessarily like the way it feels. Arcee has told her that cybertronians don’t feel it at all, and it surprised her to hear that humans do.
Ratchet pulls his arm away from her as he finishes the scan and three separate results pique his interest: the wound on her left browbone, her suspiciously empty digestive system, and a variety of old bruises and small cuts littering her entire body, all in different stages of healing. Some of the wounds are fresh enough to bleed, but old enough that they could not possibly have resulted from the fall.
“Oh my little spark, what have you done?” he mutters as he lowers the berth of the medbay. A series of clicks and schlicks sound out in the hall as he displaces himself to be about twice the size of a human.
He turns towards her, optics watching her movements intently and servos grasping for his supplies in the drawers next to him.
“Oh my god this hurts so fucking much”, she mutters and pulls her arm over her face to block the light.
“I said don’t move, little one.”
She pulls her arm away from her face, and settles for closing her eyes. The initial pain of the fall has subsided and been replaced by an ache all over.
“Miraculously, you haven’t broken anything”, he says as he reaches for her face with a cotton pad in one servo. Ever-so-gently, he guides her arms away from her body and sets his elbows down on the berth, against her sides.
“Grasp my plating as hard as you can”, he says. He waits for her initial confusion to pass, then feels for the strength in her hands. Both squeeze just as hard. It’s weak, but at least it’s as weak in both hands, so no signs of a concussion.
“Keep your hands there. This will sting”, he says. She nods and fixes the positioning of her hands to be more comfortable.
Her entire face contorts from the pain of the antiseptic. He apologises silently and keeps cleaning the wound.
“This won’t need stiches.”
“Thank god”, comes her breathless answer.
“But some of those other wounds might. I’ll wrap this up first, then let’s see about those”, he continues. Her heart drops and she lets go of his plating as he leans away from her, reaching for the bandages.
“I don’t think you need to waste supplies on those, they’re healed already, and so small anyways”, she tries to defend herself. He pauses at her words while cutting out a strip of adhesive.
“No, they are not all healed. And the severity of them is irrelevant”, he answers simply and turns back to her, a set of bandages in his servos. They look comically small in his grasp. She turns her head away from him and draws her brows together.
She feels cold metal close around her jaw as Ratchet gently, so gently turns her head back to face the light.
His optics are locked into her eyes when she eventually opens them. His tone is gentle when he speaks: “Please stay still, I need to finish this wound.”
With precision she didn’t know was possible, the mech pulls the cut together and lays a series of strips on top of it to hold it together. He then applies a bandage that covers the entire wound. He leans back and allows her to sit up.
She keeps going and attempts to scoot over to the edge of the berth to leave, but he sets his servo down in between her knees and the edge to stop her.
“I really do still need to check those other wounds of yours, and then you’re going to sit down and eat”, he states. His optics are locked in on her face, looking for a reaction. She deflates slightly.
“I really don’t need that. Please, you can do it tomorrow, I just wanna sleep now”, she defends herself. Ratchet’s servo is unmoving. She moves her knees away from it and turns around completely, now scooting over to the other edge. She feels slightly dizzy from the turn.
“Why won’t you let me help? Talk to me”, Ratchet sighs. He doesn’t attempt to stop her from leaving, an involuntary examination is not an option for an ally not in life-threatening or immediate danger. He simply walks to the other side of the berth and extends his servo for her to step on.
The fall isn’t huge, only around 2 metres, but he would rather not have her jump down right now. He lifts his servo up to be level with the edge of the berth after he notices a brief moment of hesitation to stand up from her. She slides on to his palm, the appendage just big enough to support her entire backside.
He sets her down gently and doesn’t let his servo stray from her before he’s sure that she’s okay to stand up on her own. She sways for a moment, holding the edge of his palm, before pushing herself off. He follows her with his servo until she’s out of reach.
At that moment, Optimus steps in.
“Little spark, what has happened to you?” he begins, looking at her bandages. He turns his optics towards the mass-displaced mech next to her. “Ratchet?”
“Please talk some sense into her, will you? She’s injured and malnourished but won’t let me help her beyond that wound on her head”, he answers and stands up.
She’s stopped walking already and is leaning on a railing, looking up at Optimus. She always forgets how massive the bots are until she stands at the feet of one of them.
“You can trust Ratchet’s medical expertise. He saved countless of lives during the war and has healed so many of us more times than we can count.”
“It’s not about that. Please just let me go back to my room, I’m too tired for this”, she lies again.
“Then what is it about, little one?”
“It’s nothing.”
“I do not wish to accuse you of being untruthful, but I’m afraid I cannot take your explanation at face value or let you go at this time. Talk to us”, he says and crouches down to her level. She can feel the warmth of his optics on her freezing cold hands.
“I don’t wanna talk about it.”
Optimus doesn’t move, doesn’t react. Just looks at her. She takes a quick look at him, and his entire face is etched with a frown full of worry. She turns her head to look at the hallway opposite to the one from which Optimus came.
She makes a run for it.
Her legs feel like they’re made from lead and her head pounds with each step, but she manages to slip past both of the mechs. Optimus is too big to turn around and follow her safely right away, and Ratchet is blocked by the supply drawers.
She gets all the way around the control panels before either one of them has the chance to go after her. She feels the ground shake to the beat of giant footsteps, now two full-sized mechs at her tail.
She makes it a few more metres before a blue and chrome hunk of metal falls from the sky and blocks her way. Very quickly, another one appears next to it and then a face appears right in front of her.
“Do not attempt to run, you will injure yourself further”, Optimus commands her. His voice sounds the same as when he’s issuing orders to the bots. It scares her.
“What on Earth are you doing?” Ratchet calls from behind and above her. She cranes her neck to see him back in his full size, servos hovering over the sides where there are openings between the two bots.
“Let me go!” she attempts to scream at them, but it comes out more between a whimper and a wail. Optimus extends one of his servos to her, worried that she might fall. She pushes it away and fights a quiver in her bottom lip.
“Let me go”, she says again, this time quieter. She can feel the gaze of both bots drilling into her, trying to see inside her mind. She’s looking at the ground to avoid them.
“Please talk to us, little one”, Optimus says, his tone now softer and quieter. He brings his palm closer to her, and she fights the urge to just run into its embrace.
“Your health, physical or mental, is our top priority at the moment. All the soldiers have been taken care of, they are in recharge. All that remains now is you, but we cannot help you if you do not let us”, he pleads. “Please, let us help.”
The tears finally spill over and she lets out a small wail. Optimus’ servos close in around her and she buries her head down between her hands, allowing him to lift her up without resistance.
He brings her up and around and with a few steps, sets her back down on the berth. He loosens his grip on her, but keeps her trapped within his servo as Ratchet displaces himself once more.
He allows him to close his servos around her in turn as he does the same. He has observed that the little human finds it easier to talk with them if they are down to a size where she can hug them, an action that he finds quite enjoyable no matter the circumstances.
“You are bleeding again”, Ratchet says and points at a spot of blood on her thigh. “Will you let me take a look at that, as it is clearly not healed like you said it is?”
She doesn’t look at him, just shakes her head. He ignores her answer to ask another question.
“I’ll need you to take your pants off. Can you do that, or do you need help?” he asks. She shakes her head again.
“I don’t wanna take them off in front of you.”
Ratchet turns his gaze towards Optimus, who lifts his optics from the spot of blood on her white sweatpants. They nod at each other and then look back down to look at her face.
Optimus speaks first: “You are injured, little one. I must ask you to allow Ratchet to take a look at those, no matter the placement. We are aware of your cultural sensitivities concerning the body, but we must insist, for your safety.”
The girl remains quiet for a moment, trying to gather her emotions around having to be that vulnerable around what are essentially war machines. Eventually, she nods. Her ice-cold hands betray her as she pulls at the sweatpants, but she does eventually get them off of her legs.
“Optimus, will you…?”
Optimus nods, turns around, and sits on the berth next to her. He very gently lifts her up, just enough to get her to sit on his thigh. She leans back against his torso, and he circles his arm around her body. She can’t move, but despite the physical strength of the mech practically trapping her in place, she feels safer than ever.
Ratchet is horrified at the sight. Bruises in various stages of healing mottle the skin of her legs, and little cuts crowd around the tops of her thighs and disappear beneath the underwear on her hips. He barely knows where to start.
“This will sting again, just stay still”, he mutters to her.
As soon as the cotton pad touches the one bleeding wound on her thigh, she twitches and pushes his servo away from it with her knee. He sighs and pushes himself onto the berth as well, kneeling next to her.
Optimus is not new to his old companion’s methods, and turns around enough to allow the human’s legs to be lifted onto the metal surface, where they are then gently trapped between Ratchet’s knees.
“It’s okay, little one. Hold on to Optimus”, he says and brings a new cotton pad down on her wound once more. She flinches again, tries to pull away from the sting, but can’t do anything but squirm in the tight hold of the two mechs.
Ratchet cleans each and every single scratch with gentleness and focus that she has never seen him exhibit before, then bandages each and every one like he’s afraid she might fall into pieces if he presses down too hard.
When he’s finally finished, she’s finally numbed up to the sting enough to begin to relax despite the cold of the air beginning to seep into her bones. Ratchet leans back and refocuses his optics on the red lines that disappear beneath her underwear.
She startles out of her thoughts and looks at the warm blue optics of the two mechs watching over her. She can’t see herself below her chest because of Optimus’ arm blocking her sight, but she’s guessing that they're looking at the cuts on her hips. She keeps her head down, eyes focused on the glittering red paint in front of her.
“I would rather take care of them now with your consent instead of by force later when they get infected”, Ratchet says. His servo hovers over her thighs.
“Fine”, she mutters defeatedly. “But I’m cold.”
“Thank you, sweet one. Please stay there, I’ll be right back”, Ratchet says gently and then gets up.
He reaches for the spare duvet on the couch of the overlook next to them and brings it down to her. He carefully slides it underneath her legs and behind her back, and Optimus moves his arm to help him wrap it around her body.
Ratchet looks at the little colourful cocoon they’ve made of her and then looks at Optimus again. Nod.
“Let us get you somewhere warmer…” he pauses to look up and around them, then continues: “…the room with our recharge chambers. Are you comfortable with that?” Optimus asks her and leans forward to look at her face. She looks around for a little bit, then nods.
He slowly slides off the berth and with Ratchet behind him, makes his way into the hallways of the base. He holds the cocooned girl against his chestplates, supporting her head and pressing it against himself. She’s too embarrassed to look at either one of the bots.
-
Ratchet looks at the girl for a moment, before he sets his ball of cotton on the wounds nearest to the edge of her underwear. They’re scabbing over already, but he still cleans them up and bandages them like they’re fresh.
Some are smaller, some are bigger, but all have bled and many places have bruises to accompany the strange cuts.
Ratchet knows what self-harm is, this isn’t the first time he’s taken care of injuries like this, but this is the first time that he sees it on a human.
Slowly, he makes his way up to her hips, each and every single cut and bruise carefully cleaned and bandaged. Most need nothing beyond a cleanup and he thanks some higher power for it.
Optimus pulls up the warm duvet in time with Ratchet’s progress along the hips of the small human. When Ratchet finally deems his work finished, he leans back and pulls the duvet all the way up. The human stirs and repositions it again to surround her more comfortably.
“I’m sorry”, a small voice sounds out in the room. She’s not crying anymore, but is visibly tired as her eyes move slowly and she struggles to keep them open.
“There is nothing to apologise for, little one. You’re not the first one we’ve taken care of just like this. The war back on Cybertron did horrific things to the minds of strong, experienced mechs and broke them completely, and we can only imagine what kind of havoc you humans can wreak upon each other and yourselves when put under pressure. We have many of the same concepts of processor malfunctions that you have here. It’s okay, you are okay. You’ve done nothing wrong.” Ratchet’s tone is so gentle it makes her want to cry.
At that moment, Ratchet remembers the original reason for all of this, why they’ve been keeping an eye on her in the first place: she’s not eaten in a suspiciously long time.
“But we are still not finished here, little one”, he continues. “You’ve not refuelled enough for a human your size. Are you aware that we can see the logs of our human food storages?” Her eyes widen and she looks at Ratchet. Apparently not.
“Unless you have been able to gain access to outside sources of food, you are not eating enough. You are not being accused of anything, sweet one, but you need to work with us on this. We cannot force-feed you in good conscience.”
“I don’t wanna eat.”
“Will you at least talk about it?” Optimus interjects. His servo rests on top of her and his engine is running to produce some extra heat for the girl. He can tell that she’s still cold.
“I… I don’t wanna burden you any more than I already am.” She turns her face away from Optimus and back into his servo on top of her. Its weight is comforting.
“Nothing you say to us can burden us. We want you to talk to us. You are under our protection, and we truly would not be asking you this is we did not want to hear it and help you”, Optimus answers. Ratchet nods in time with him. She buries her face further into the duvet.
“I’m always the big one who gets asked out to dance as a joke. I’m always the biggest person in pictures. I’m always spilling over my clothes and I never feel pretty enough to deserve any attention. I starve to lose weight. It works. The feeling of an empty stomach is what keeps me going, it gives me confidence that I’m doing something right”, she mumbles quietly in hopes that the two mechs holding her wouldn’t quite catch everything she says. Optimus and Ratchet still hear it.
“What do you mean, big?” Optimus asks and smooths his palm against the girl.
“I’m overweight. Humans have this… classification system to determine how much or how little someone should weigh. I’m overweight. I need to lose weight. I’m always the overweight one and it drives me up the wall. I feel like I need to be skinny to be feminine and deserve attention and care.”
“You forego eating to affect your physical form?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, my sweet little sparkling”, Optimus laments and turns his optics towards Ratchet.
“But why do you harm yourself?” Ratchet asks the human. He’s still cleaning up his supplies.
“I just get this sort of an itch. I feel like if I’m physically injured, it gives me the right to rest and feel the way I do. I… Yeah.”
“Do continue.”
“I also use the pain to sort of... punish myself for feeling hunger and wanting to eat”, she mumbles.
Optimus thinks for a moment. He continues gently petting the cocooned girl. Ratchet remains quiet for a moment more, before he’s done packing the supplies and he sits back once again.
“I’d like to put you on closer observation until you’ve recovered enough to be able to tell us if it gets bad again. I will not require you to be healed immediately, I’ve seen this same behaviour before, but I want to make sure that you never, ever feel like you can’t talk to us again. Would that be alright with you?”
She feels both of them looking at her again. “What would that like, actually look like?”
“We’ll have someone accompany you at all times”, Optimus answers. His servo has stopped moving, and has settled upon her stomach again. “Not to watch you, as I am aware of humans’ psychological requirements for privacy, but to make sure that you are never alone.”
She thinks about their proposal for a moment. “Will you force me to eat?”
“No-one will force you to eat. We will encourage it, but I assure you that not one single bot will force you to eat unless you are in great peril, in which case we will not be opposed to using a feeding tube”, he says, very gently. His thumb smooths over her torso.
After a moment of stillness, she nods, and both Optimus and Ratchet feel a wave of relief wash over them.
“But for now, we must make sure that your body has enough energy to be able to heal itself. Is there anything that you would like?” Ratchet asks her. She shakes her head.
“Something pleasant, then. You like those vegetable soups, do you not?”
“Yeah”, a small voice replies from within the cocoon.
“Ratchet, please take care of our archivist. I will make sure to alert the others of this arrangement”, Optimus says.
He hands her over to the medic and stands up, plates and gears already shifting to transform his body back into its original size. She looks at him as he does so, mesmerized by all the moving parts.
Before he leaves the room, he pauses at the doorway, turns back around and comes back to Ratchet and the girl. He motions for Ratchet to set her down and he does.
He crouches down to her level, scoops her up in his servo, and brings her to what closely resembles a hug. The duvet slips off her shoulders as she grips the wires and plating of his neck.
He remains there until she loosens her hold, and then hands her back to Ratchet. Ratchet fixes up the positioning of the duvet around her as she watches Optimus leave the room.
“Don’t you ever scare me like that again”, Ratchet sighs and brings the cocoon against his chestplates. She leans against the warm chassis and relaxes in the firm hold.
The beat of his spark underneath all the metal slowly but surely lulls her to sleep.
He dares not wake her before she stirs by herself about twenty minutes later, by which time Optimus has returned with worried Bumblebee and Arcee by his side.
They simply smile at the girl as Ratchet sets her down on the couch and remain to keep her company as the medic and the leader leave for the food storage.
Crowded between two iron giants, she’s never felt safer before in her life.