I almost don't want to post this, because it's nothing more than self-indulgent Arcee whump with some hints of Arcee/Optimus (just hints though, if you're not into that hetero junk ;) I needed to get out of my system. But I suppose there are those out there who appreciate whump, so enjoy it if you are one of them. Shout out to donskoi (whom I'm not entirely certain she has an account here) for helping me with Cybertronian biology.

Starscream had the Keys.

The fate of Cybertron was in the hands of Starscream.

As the despairing cry echoed away in the trees, Optimus Prime realized the GroundBridge he had ordered shut down never actually did so. He opened up a comm, ignoring the look Ratchet and Bulkhead exchanged.

"Optimus to Arcee: What is your status?"

There was silence. Then there was an absolute, horrendous cacophony of sound over the communication line.

"Optimus?!" Smokescreen's voice was frantic over the din. "Optimus, something's happened!" There was Bumblebee's rapid trilling in the background that was barely made out of the sound of…

Screaming.

Arcee was screaming.

Ratchet's wide optics met with Prime's as Bulkhead gave a startled jolt of realization.

"Arcee's been injured, I—I don't know how! But she's hurt bad and Ratch—"

What was said next by the young soldier didn't matter as the three Autobots immediately ran for the GroundBridge that was, indeed, still open.

The sight before them as they reemerged into their outpost could only be compared to one of Miko's horror films. Water poured down from the sprinkler systems, diluting the Energon that stained the concrete flooring, starting from a pool beside the GroundBridge controls then making a wild trail to where the yellow scout knelt. Tiny bits of crushed glass started from the pool and led towards the GroundBridge still swirling behind them. Agonized cries filled the air and the source of the sound came from the small figure writhing in Bumblebee's arms.

Arcee appeared to be unaware of their presence. Her hands were to her face as she continued to scream, Energon flowing freely and unstaunched despite Bumblebee's best efforts in trying to stop the gaping wound to her midsection.

Ratchet wasted no more time in gawking, and was immediately on the ground beside the pair, assessing the damage. Bumblebee looked at the medic helplessly as Bulkhead stood shock-still and Optimus rounded on Smokescreen.

"Shut down the GroundBridge and shut off the water," he ordered grimly. Smokescreen was shaking as he complied, and as he finished his task he turned and gave the answer that hadn't yet been demanded from him.

"I…I don't know what happened," he said, his look darting from the Prime to the scene before them.

"Shhhh, Arcee," Ratchet almost murmured as he tried to gently restrain the two-wheeler. "Just be still for a moment. I need to get a good scan of you."

"One second we're standing here," Smokescreen continued numbly. At Ratchet's touch, the screaming intensified and Optimus saw out of the corner of his vision that Arcee was trying to push him and Bumblebee away with one hand. "Watching the GroundBridge. Next second Arcee's shouting and there's Energon all over her and she's kneeling on the ground and…and…" the former Elite Guard recruit took a deep air intake, closing his eyes "Her optics!"

"By the AllSpark!" the medic gasped, and Optimus whirled around in horror. Arcee's servos were no longer covering her face as she fought, and the Energon he had thought was just splatter revealed itself to be coming from a gaping wound.

Arcee's right optic was missing.

With a sickening lurch of his fuel processors, Optimus Prime realized what the tiny bits of crushed glass littering the floor were.

"I just..." Smokescreen mumbled behind him. "We just don't know how it happened."

"Worry about that later!" Ratchet snapped. "Bee, gently." The Scout obeyed, carrying Arcee over to the medbay, low hums of comfort emanating from his voice modulator

It will be okay. It will be okay. Ratchet's here, I'm here. It will be okay.

Even as he laid her down on the berth, he still held onto one of her hands, repeating the mantra.

It will be okay.

The words did little to calm Arcee. As soon as she was placed onto the berth she began kicking her legs out, trying to fend off an attacker who was no longer there. As Ratchet approached, she lashed out at him. He jumped back just in time and all she gave him was a trail of her own Energon swiped across his chassis

"I need…I need to disable her pain receptors and induce stasis but I can't if she's jerking around like this!" Ratchet cried helplessly. Bumblebee held her smaller hand in both of his as Bulkhead strode over and, at Ratchet's command, pinned Arcee's shoulders and legs down to the berth.

Shhhh, Arcee, Bumblebee repeated Ratchet's words. Just be still for a moment. It will all be okay, just let Ratchet work.

Arcee's remaining eye darted around the room in panic, unaware of anything but the pain and confusion that had been inflicted on her. Being restrained only increased her distress and her screams took on a staticked inflection. Her flailing increased and despite Bulkhead's weight she still managed to put up enough fight to hinder Ratchet's efforts.

Without hesitation Optimus strode over to the side of his fallen soldier. He looked down and cupped the undamaged side of the warrior's face and ghosted his thumb along her cheek. The terrifying screams ebbed, turned to gasping intakes as she locked her optic with those belonging to Optimus Prime. Her ventilations were rough and she still emitted the sound of static, but as he stared down at her she finally responded to the servo holding her own, and she gripped back with everything she had.

There, that's it, Bee trilled almost happily. He gently rubbed one hand up and down her arm in comfort. I'm right here, Optimus is right here, it's okay. We're here. You're safe.

She pressed into the Prime's touch and he smiled somberly as she took in a ragged ventilation of air. She was not stilled, however, and somehow managed to kick a leg out from under Bulkhead even as she was unable to look away from Optimus. At this, the Prime knelt down beside Arcee, and placed his gentle servos on either side of her helm before pressing the fore of his helm against hers. He murmured something soft and gentle and kind and unheard by everyone except Arcee. Her kicking and writhing began to subside, and when Ratchet saw the opportunity he worked deftly, and Arcee mercifully slipped into controlled stasis within nano-clicks of being hooked up.

There was a sort of death silence from everything but the medical monitors. Bulkhead straightened up, but Optimus and Bumblebee stayed where they were—Bumblebee was scared she would slip away or wake up and resume her pain if he stopped rubbing her arm, and Optimus had to admit to himself and no one else that at this particular moment that, after everything, he was very, very afraid.

Even Smokescreen stood still beside the GroundBridge controls. He kept running the scenario over and over again in his processors and coming up with nothing but guilt over not having Arcee's back against her invisible assailant.

Only Ratchet moved about, quickly administering to the wounded Autobot. He muttered to himself as he worked, making note of every minor scratch and detail and adding up the factors. "He sliced right through her fuel tank," he announced grimly, not looking up from his patient.

"Who?" The demand came from both of the younger Bots.

Bulkhead looked up from Arcee, his eyes narrowed. "Starscream," he growled murderously.

"What?" Smokescreen demanded once more. Bee's optics widened and he looked from the GroundBridge to Optimus to Bulkhead and then Arcee. "Optimus, we were watching the Bridge the entire time, nobody could have possibly gotten throu—"

"Starscream appears to have made good use of the captured Red Energon," Optimus interrupted, rising from his position, one hand still on the two-wheeler's helm. "Under its influence, he was almost too fast for the eye to see. His invasion of the base must have lasted only moments."

Bee chirped in alarm and Smokescreen came to an understanding. "He took the Keys, didn't he?" he asked quietly, looking disheartened. Optimus nodded, his gaze dropping back to Arcee, and the room fell silent.

"But...why her?" Smokescreen finally asked. "Why not scrap all of us while he had the chance?"

"The Red Energon was wearing off by the time he exited the base," Ratchet explained. "He must have decided he only had enough time to finish off Arcee." The medic straightened. "I've stabilized her the best I can for now. If she pulls through the night, then she'll be in the clear."

This announcement seemed to have taken the energy out of the room. Bulkhead staggered away from Arcee's berth, bracing himself against the balcony where the children played. Ratchet let out a slow vent as he moved around the berth to work on Arcee's optic. Optimus stepped away to let him work, looking so very tired. Bumblebee remained where he was, watching Ratchet work with anxious optics. Smokescreen moved to nearest wall to slump against, trying to make sense of it all.

"But...why her?" he asked again, finding his legs suddenly tired so he slid to the floor. He could see the puddle of Energon perfectly from where he sat, and for the first time he may have fully appreciated what the Bot who spilled it had been trying to tell him about war.

"Arcee and Starscream...have a history," Bulkhead mumbled, glaring at the same pool. "Starscream was the one who killed Cliffjumper, her partner."

And Arcee nearly killed him for it, Bumblebee further explained. He obviously didn't forget about that. He squeezed her servo and trilled sadly. Poor Cee.

Smokescreen just looked between Bumblebee and Bulkhead, barely comprehending. He then looked to Optimus Prime, wanting to ask what comes next.

But one glance at the Prime's face—optics never leaving Arcee—and he decided not to ask.

Ratchet had left them to purify more med-grade. The others had been instructed to rest before they decided on their next course of action. Optimus stood beside Arcee, monitoring her diagnostics while Ratchet was away.

One Earth-hour after the others had gone to their quarters, lines on the monitors began to plummet as Arcee's frame rejected the Energon transfusion that had been donated from every member of the team to make up for low supplies.

One half-hour after that, Arcee began convulsing.

Fifteen minutes after that, Arcee's internal wounds reopened and she lost even more Energon.

Two hours before present time, the monitors began shrieking in alarm as Arcee's spark slowed to a dangerous pace.

All was calm now.

He had the thought to hold her hand as Bumblebee had done, to offer her some sort of comfort—to not feel so useless—but part of him was almost afraid of breaking the smaller warrior before him.

The rests of him knew she would scowl and mutter mutinies just loud enough for him to hear if she knew what he was thinking. She may even shout, depending. Which is one reason he would never say such things to her.

The other reason was because it was simply untrue.

A monitor sounded at the same time Arcee's intake hitched, and Optimus dismissed his thoughts completely and placed his large servo over hers, willing—praying—for the moment to calm down.

It did. The sound was just a routine system check, and Arcee's ventilations evened. All was quiet again, and Optimus let the day's exhaustion overtake him, slipping into a standing recharge beside Arcee.

The sensation of touch roused him from his sleep; the feeling of movement beneath his palm. He onlined his optics and reflexively tightened his grip on the hand he held.

Arcee blinked up at him in dull confusion, her hand flexing in his before gripping back. Optimus smiled down at her. "How are you feeling?" he gently asked.

"Like scrap," she said. Her voice was subdued but clear of static. She grimaced, and her hand tentatively reached up and felt the metal plate welded over her right optic. "Like a pirate," she amended wryly. She tried to sit up but Optimus gently prevented her. Instead, he knelt down beside her once more, the small smile sliding off his faceplates at her question:

"What...?"

"Starscream." His voice was low, rumbled.

Arcee's eyes narrowed at him and she raised herself up. Her sparkpulse increased. He brushed his thumb along her hand in response.

"How?"

Optimus sighed. "The Red Energon."

Arcee's free hand clenched into a fist against the berth. The spark monitor beeped in alarm, and her fist unclenched but her body began shaking. In fury, in shock, in fear. Her fist clenched again and this time Optimus took it in his other hand. It occurred to him then that some time had passed since he fell into recharge, and the monitors showed Arcee's Energon levels had been replenished. He wondered why Ratchet never woke him.

"Optimus..." Her voice was a low threat, and he looked from her eye to her eye patch.

"I know." She felt the need to impress upon him what he had already concluded: Starscream must be stopped, and he was now beyond redemption. He watched as she slumped against the berth, the shaking subsiding. The sparkmonitor ceased its notice as her pulse slowed.

"What now?"

"...I don't know."

Her helm snapped towards him, and her look was piercing despite the damage. When he matched the intensity of the gaze and offered no further answer, her features softened. She glanced at their joined hands and then back to his eyes. She gave a small huff of laughter.

"Thank you." She was sincere. Off his look, she added, "For holding my hand through it all."

Optimus regarded her for a moment. "How much do you remember?"

Arcee draped one arm over her eyes, and sighed. "All of it. I think." After a moment of bitter silence, she looked back at him and continued. "I remember you. Holding my hand. Again." She gave him her wry smile and nodded at their servos. Optimus nodded as well.

"It was Bumblebee who held your hand, not I," he said gently. Arcee's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Huh. Could'a sworn it was..." she trailed off as Optimus gently cupped this side of her helm in his hand. She pressed her face into the touch; she understood. She shut her optic again. "Thank you," she whispered, the smile returning her face. She placed her hands over his. When she opened her optic, Optimus was returning the smile.

"When can I get out here?" she asked. She sounded exhausted.

"When Ratchet gives you the All-Clear," was the simple reply.

She regarded him for a moment, hesitant to know the next answer. "When can I get back in the fight?"

His silence was damning.

"Optimus..." Her voice was half edge, half pleading.

"We will need...," Optimus chose his words carefully. "All available hands in the field, if my guess is correct in that Starscream will use the Keys to barter his way back into Megatron's favor."

"You think that's what he'll do?"

"It's only a guess."

"You don't guess."

I do. All the time. Optimus frowned. "But, as it stands, there are new...considerations to take into accou—"

"No."

"Arcee..."

"No! Don't you dare, don't you fragging dare...!" She pushed his hand away angrily, sitting up despite his protest. "This—!" she jabbed a finger towards the eye patch. "Doesn't change a thing. You need me out there. Optimus, you can't just sideline me like this!—"

"You're right," a gruff voice announced from behind her. "He can't. But I can." Optimus rose as Ratchet strode over the berth and began checking her readings.

"Ratchet, I'm fine," Arcee growled. Ratchet sent a disbelieving look her way.

"Fine? Arcee, you had half your internals shredded through! You had your optic ripped out, we're still cleaning your Energon from the walls, and you insist that you're 'fine'?" Optimus regarded the scene before him wearily. "Primus, I don't even know why I bother trying to fix you if you have so little regard for your own well-being!"

"I feel fine," Arcee amended indignantly.

"That's because I disabled your pain receptors!" the medic cried. "Would you like me to enable them again?" he challenged, equally indignant.

"Ratchet—"

"No, Optimus!" Ratchet rounded on him. "She thinks Smokescreen needs to learn how serious war is? Well, she needs to realize how serious her condition is! By the AllSpark, Arcee, we nearly lost you!"

Arcee glared at the medic, suddenly too tired argue. She tried lowering herself back to the berth but her arms gave out halfway through. Ratchet was there to catch her, looking weary himself.

"I'm sorry." He was aggravated, but he meant it. He lowered her back onto the berth "I shouldn't be yelling at my patient."

"Jack..."

"What?"

"Has anyone told Jack?" Arcee muttered, her vision darkening around the edges of her remaining eye. Ratchet looked to Optimus, who inclined his head.

"Not yet," Ratchet answered. "We wanted to be more certain of your prognosis before we woke him up at this late an hour. Don't power down yet, I need to check your vision."

"I never apologized," she realized with a start.

"Never apologized for what? Follow the light."

She did so, grateful she couldn't be hurt by the intensity of the beam. "For...shouting at him. When he ran off with...Smokescreen. I was angry with him."

"Hmph. You had every right to be angry with him, with both of them." Ratchet shut off the light. "Follow me." He raise two digits and began tracing them in patterns through the air. "With Miko, that sort of behavior is to be expected. With Jack..."

"I didn't mean it. He needs to know that..." Arcee insisted almost desperately. It felt so important to her in this moment, as her helm grew heavier by the second, that her partner know she wasn't angry with him.

"He knows," Optimus replied with certainty. She would argue, but falling into recharge was too tempting to resist at this point. Her optic shuttered.

She felt a familiar hand over hers.

When she woke up a day later, Optimus was still there.

Jack was there, too, curled up beside her with a blanket. He used her arm as a pillow.

From the balcony came the humming of a video game turned on low. Miko's "Booyah!" was much quieter than it should have been.

Soft trills from Bumblebee as he explained the rules of the game to Smokescreen.

Bulkhead and Ratchet arguing in whispers.

And Raf's gentle voice: "She's awake!"

Arcee smiled.

All that mattered to her now was this moment in time.

She was ready for everything else.

Changed the original ending because I thought it was weak. And then Arcee proceeds to kick afterburners the rest of the series with one eye. I'll admit, the whole reason I was inspired to write this was because someone had made a picture of Arcee with no eyes, and she went on to still kick ass while being a blind warrior. If anyone knows what that image is, I'd like to see it again and credit the person who made it, because it's been awhile and I don't even remember where I saw it.