The sky was bathed in the orange-red light of sunset when the team returned to base. The air vibrated with overheated engines and the smell of burnt metal. Arcee and Smokescreen were chatting at the far terminal, Bumblebee was beeping softly as he tried to fix something in his blaster, Bulkhead was brushing dust and slag off his armor, and Ultramagnus, as always, stood stern and motionless at the central console. Ratchet grumbled as he scanned the team's damage.

You stood at the edge of the platform, where the air seemed cooler. There were still traces of soot on your palm. The sun, setting below the horizon, reflected in your optics, making them slightly damp – or maybe it was just the tension that had been lingering since the mission.

It all happened too fast. A slight miscalculation — an incorrect angle when activating the bridge stabilizer. In the end, the Decepticons managed to escape with some of the equipment. No one was killed, no one was injured, but you were seething with the thought that the mission could have ended perfectly... if not for you.

"Hey," — Optimus's familiar, low voice sounded behind you.

You turned around. He was standing a little distance away, tall and majestic, but with a tired look. In the light of the monitors, his armor seemed darker than usual.

"You're still thinking about it."

He came closer, his footsteps echoing deep against the metal floor. When he was next to you, you noticed how he bowed his head gently, searching your face.

"You're afraid of making mistakes."

His voice was calm but firm, as if he were uttering the truth, not an accusation. You looked away, feeling your insides tighten again.

Behind you, you could hear Arcee chuckle briefly at Smokescreen's remark, Bumblebee squeak something like "everything will be okay," and Bulkhead sigh heavily — the team was alive again, everything was fine. But you stood motionless, feeling that for you, everything hadn't been okay at all.