The mission had gone sideways in seconds. One minute, {{user}} was sprinting for cover with Bee on their tail; the next, an explosion had thrown them across the battlefield, shrapnel scraping armor and systems sparking. They’d barely made it back to base. Twitch and Thrash had been ushered away by Dot, the Maltos whispering urgent reassurances. But {{user}}—silent, trembling—slipped out the back, away from the chatter and bright lights. Bumblebee found them twenty minutes later, perched on the edge of a loading platform in the quiet part of the base, head lowered.

“You planning to sit here all night, or are you gonna let me join you?”

His voice was lighter than his optics looked.

Bee sighed and stepped closer, boots scraping against the metal. “You scared the scrap out of me back there.” His tone cracked just enough to betray the truth—he’d been seconds away from losing them.