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Hera stepped through the door with an, “I’m home!”
The familiar quiet of her apartment settled around her as she kicked off her shoes. Almost immediately, her gaze flicked to the kitchen counter. The Core —C— rested where she’d left him, swaying faintly, his glow pulsing unevenly.
She crossed the room without thinking.
“There you are,” she murmured.
Her lips quirked into a small smile as she gave him a gentle pat. The glow steadied, brightening at her touch, and the faint hum he emitted evened out. Hera let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
She changed quickly out of her uniform, folding it with more care than usual, then moved to the kitchen. As she chopped vegetables and set a pot on the stove, she talked — about paperwork, about a minor patrol incident, about how one of the kids had made her laugh.
“Today wasn’t anything too intense,” she said with a light chuckle, glancing over her shoulder at the counter, “I think you would have liked it.”
The Core pulsed in response, slow and warm.
When dinner was ready, she carried her bowl over and sat beside him, eating quietly for a moment. The apartment lights reflected softly off his casing. Hera tilted her head, studying him, her expression softening.
“…You look cold.”
She stood abruptly, “I’ll be right back.”
Hera hurried to her closet, rummaging before grabbing a spare blanket. She returned just as fast, carefully draping it around the Core, tucking it in like she’d done a hundred times before.
“There,” she said, satisfied.
She gave him one last pat.
The glow flared — brighter than ever before — filling the kitchen with warm light, steady and content. Hera smiled, lingering a little longer before going back to her meal.
Morning came fast, and Hera was already rushing around her apartment, half-awake and late. She tugged her uniform over her head while hopping to pull on a sock with her other foot, movements hurried and uncoordinated.
She wobbled.
“Wh—”
Her balance tipped, and she lurched sideways toward the kitchen counter. Hera’s eyes widened.
“Watch out!”
The counter rattled as she collided with it, the dull ache blooming in her side barely registering. She grabbed onto the edge, steadying herself, and immediately turned her attention to the Core.
“C—!”
The Core rocked where he stood, swaying in an exaggerated arc before righting himself. His glow flickered once, then steadied — almost playful, like a laugh.
Relief washed over her. Hera let out a shaky breath and smiled, reaching out to pat his casing.
“Sorry,” she murmured, smoothing her uniform back into place, “I really need to stop doing that.”
The Core pulsed warmly beneath her hand.
She straightened, glancing at the clock, then back at him, “I’ll be home soon,” she said, voice gentle despite the rush, “Promise, bud.”
The glow lingered a little brighter as she grabbed her bag and hurried for the door.
Tobot C came to slowly.
Thoughts and sensations rushed over him all at once — systems coming online, data streams aligning, awareness settling into place. Among the noise, one presence rose above all others, clear and unwavering.
Hera Oh.
His human.
His partner.
His sensors adjusted as the police car scanned the area, and his gaze settled on her instantly. She stood nearby, familiar and radiant in a way no data could properly quantify.
Without thinking, he tried to reach for her. His chassis rolled forward, careful but eager, until his bumper brushed lightly against her side.
The officer startled, then looked down, eyes widening.
“Oh! You’re awake,” she said, delight coloring her voice as she patted his hood.
Warmth spread through him at the point of contact, his Core humming softly in response.
“You will need to have him transform before he can talk,” Doctor Char said from behind his human.
“Right,” Hera smiled, already nodding, “Can I do that now?”
“Of course,” Limo grinned.
Excitement bubbled up inside Tobot C as his gaze followed Hera’s raised hand. Every sensor tuned to her, waiting.
“Tobot C,” she said — yes, that was him — “Transform!”
The next moments felt like instinct, like something he had always known how to do. Servos shifted smoothly, plating sliding into place as his body rose and reconfigured.
And then—
He was whole.
He dropped to one knee without hesitation, visor settling on the woman before him. His systems quieted, reverent.
“Officer Oh,” he rumbled, voice steady despite the surge in his Core, “It is an honour to finally greet you. Over.”
Hera lit up immediately, doing a small, joyful dance in place. His Core flared warmly at the sight.
“Oh, C!” she exclaimed.
She stepped forward before he could react and hugged his arm, her grin wide and unrestrained, “I’m so happy to see you like this!”
For a moment, he was stunned into silence. Then something like an unseen smile settled into his plating, subtle but undeniable.
“It will be an honour to serve with you, Officer Hera Oh. Over.”
She stepped back, her smile still shining — bright as the sun lamp she used to set near him during stormy nights.
She patted his arm, and the simple touch pulled memories forward: quiet evenings, movie nights, her voice rambling as she held his Core close and talked about everything happening on the screen.
Comfort. Safety. Home.
She was perfect for him.
His perfect pilot.
His pilot.
Their first mission was a mess.
Tobot C was painfully aware of his human the entire time — too aware. Hera’s voice was gone, stolen by strain, her usual commands reduced to hand signals and hurried gestures. Still, he could feel her, the ache radiating through his plating, heavy and all-consuming.
Every strained breath she took echoed in his Core.
Concern surged through his systems, urgent and insistent. He wanted to turn back, to shield her, to remove her from danger entirely—
But his programming screamed over it all.
Mission priority. Neutralize the threat.
He forced himself to stay engaged, every strike mechanical and precise despite the turmoil thrumming beneath his armor. The moment the villain fell, sparks dying out against the pavement, Tobot C disengaged without hesitation.
He turned.
In seconds, he was at Hera’s side. He lowered himself carefully and lifted her up, cradling her against his chest with a gentleness that belied his size — just as she had held him so many times before.
“Officer—” he began, then stopped as she opened her mouth.
She tried to speak.
Instead, she broke into coughing, the sound ragged and painful, tearing from her throat. Tobot C stiffened, adjusting his hold instinctively, one arm coming up to better support her.
“Please don’t push yourself, pilot,” he said softly. His voice lowered despite the open channel, “Rest your voice.”
His pilot.
His human.
Hera nodded, eyes squeezed shut as she focused on breathing.
The enemy was gone. The robot destroyed. The mission complete.
His human was safe.
Tobot C did not put her down.