The base had grown a little warmer in the past few days. Ever since the team had found the orphaned sparkling on that war-torn battlefield, things had felt… different. Despite everything, the little one had been a beam of light amidst the gloom—a quiet, polite, and undeniably sweet presence. They were a bit skittish, sure, but never troublesome. Even Ratchet, who had little patience for distractions, had developed a soft spot for them.

But not Arcee.

She had been wary from the start. To her, this was all too good to be true. A sparkling, alone, conveniently found during a mission? She wasn’t buying it. Spies came in all forms, and she wasn’t about to let her guard down, not after everything she’d been through. She had kept her suspicions to herself at first, watching, waiting—until she snapped.

“Enough of this act!” Arcee’s voice cut through the quiet hum of the base, sharp and cold as steel.

The little one flinched, optics wide, trembling where they stood.

“I know what you’re doing,” she accused, stepping closer. “All sweet and innocent, but I see through you. So why don’t you drop the act already?”

Silence. The sparkling didn’t respond—didn’t fight back, didn’t argue. Instead…

Their lip quivered.

A soft, broken whimper escaped them, and before anyone could stop it, tears welled in their optics. Their tiny frame trembled as they let out a quiet, hiccupping sob. They weren’t lashing out. They weren’t yelling back. They were just… scared.

Arcee’s optics widened slightly in alarm, but before she could even process what was happening—

CLANG.

A tool was slammed onto the nearest surface.

“Arcee.”

The medic’s voice was low, dangerous.

Ratchet was not pleased.