I'm sooo sorry for disappearing, everyone! Life has been extremely busy and this chapter absolutely refused to be written. I made the chapter a bit longer than my usual chapters to compensate for my three-month hiatus. Enjoy!

Galaxus Prime: Indeed they are! I'm glad to hear you enjoy reading this fic! Thanks for reviewing! :)

Optimus'Biatch: Thank you! :)

Stargazer360: Thank you for such a great compliment! I'm truly flattered that you think my story is good enough to be canon. Yeah, I absolutely do not believe that not even one human who had worked with the Autobots before would stand up to defend them, but AOE happened the way it happened, so… *shrugs* That's why I wrote this fic! :D

"Autobots," Optimus began, "this is Riley Brown. It was she who informed me of the humans' hostility towards our kind. She is an ally."

"So were the rest of the humans, less than a breem ago," Sideswipe pointed out, his optics narrowed, "how do we know she's not going to turn us in the instance we let our guard down?"

A flicker of defensiveness sprang from his spark. Optimus had to resist the urge to let his battle mask slide into place.

"Sideswipe is correct," said Mirage, "Look, my Prime, the human is still in uniform. We cannot trust her."

"I agree with you two," drawled Crosshairs, lazily drawing a gun from subspace and aiming it at Riley, "better kill it then, just to be safe."

"Enough," Optimus warned, raising his free servo to shield Riley just in case. It was getting increasingly more difficult to override his defence system's requests to come online, "She was on my squadron for more than three stellar cycles. Her loyalty is not to be doubted."

Back when NEST was first established, soldiers were divided into teams of ten to facilitate communication and training. Each Autobot led and trained with two. There were twelve teams in total, with a tally of a hundred and twenty soldiers, led by Optimus, Bumblebee, Ironhide, Sideswipe, Arcee, and Jolt respectively. Every time an Autobot died, the subordinate soldiers would be divided equally among the rest.

Riley was honoured enough to have been on Optimus's team since the very beginning. She still remembered the first time she saw him transform- pieces of plating unfurling, shifting, sliding into place, an extraordinary vehicle growing into an even more impressive being. Then he knelt down to address them- Optimus always lowered himself to their level, even though he was a literal thirty-two feet tall titan and they were just small, unimportant humans- and she was blown away by the dignity and humility he projected in his tone.

Each time he led them into battle, her admiration and respect for him only grew.

Then NEST was renamed into Cemetery Wind and everything changed. Human commanders were appointed, and they were ordered to be more distant with the Autobots in order to 'reduce unnecessary interactions between humans and aliens'.

"I saw members of my own squad just now as well, Prime," Sideswipe's tense reply cut through her memories like a sharp knife, "I trained with them every day, trusted them to have my back when we went after Decepticons, and guess what? My own team members pointed EMP guns at my spark chamber and threatened to offline me, so don't expect me to warm up to one of yours that quickly."

With that, he whirled around and skated out of the room, plunging the room into a deathly silence.

"So," said Crosshairs after a while, his gun still trained at where Riley was behind Optimus's servo, "do we kill it or not?"

"Crosshairs, I said enough," rings of icy blue burned as Optimus's helm swivelled to glare at the paratrooper, his tone dangerously low. Weapons systems threatened to activate as his Creator protocols recognized the danger to his sparkling, and he subconsciously pulled Riley closer to his spark, ready to defend her should the situation required it.

Riley gasped as the surface she was standing on shifted subtly, causing her to lose her balance and nearly tumble off the servo. Her sudden movement caught the attention of the being holding her, optics pinning her with such intensity that it almost frightened her.

She absently reminded herself never to get on Optimus's bad side.

Thick, metallic digits curled up around her, enclosing her in a protective cage. Optimus's voice was tightly drawn when he spoke again, his displeasure and anger carefully restrained from vorns of experience.

"Autobots, leave us. I wish to speak with Ratchet in private,"

"Come on, you heard the boss, let's go," Hound placed a servo on Crosshairs's forearm, forcing him to lower his weapon. The sniper paused to give Riley a look of pure disdain before stalking out of the room after Hound. Slowly, the rest of the Autobots followed, some of them occasionally shooting hostile glances at Riley as they exited.

Optimus waited until only the three of them were left in the room before relaxing minutely, raising Riley to optic level.

"Are you all right?" he asked her, rapidly scanning her form for injury.

"Yeah, I'm okay," she replied shakily, "just wasn't expecting them to… want to kill me."

A tense silence followed.

"You are under my protection," the Autobot leader's optics were unnaturally bright when he finally responded, his voice slightly strained, "They will know not to harm you."

A small nod from the human, accompanied by a curious glance at his shoulder plating.

"You're red and blue again," she observed, her eyes following the bright red flames as they licked and curled around his armour.

"Indeed," Optimus rumbled in amusement, all traces of tension gone instantly, "My colouration does little to conceal my identity when I am in bipedal mode, unfortunately. I did not see the need to continue my disguise."

His Creator protocols lit up cheerfully as the femme's eyes brightened with humour.

He then turned to Ratchet, who had been observing the scene with muted interest, "Ratchet, please scan Riley. Her frame has been… integrated with Cybertronian technology. I am afraid it would cause harm to her health."

Right, thought Riley. In all the excitement, she had almost forgotten what Savoy had done.

An unpleasant sensation swept through her, feeling as if her cells had been dunked in ice-cold water. After a moment Ratchet's optics widened considerably in shock.

"By the Allspark…" Microseconds later Optimus received a scathing comm from his medic.

::Why the Pit does the human have an unactivated grocyp signature in her frame?::

::Her government captured her after finding out she aided me. When she refused to provide my location, they forcefully implanted a grocyp in her frame in hopes of tracking me through her::

::PIT-SPAWNED GLITCHES… she is but a youngling to their kind!::

Riley shifted uneasily in her seat on Optimus's palm, looking between the two silent mechs, "What is it? What's wrong with me?"

Ratchet just let out a string of angry sounding Cybertronian.

Starting to get worried, she turned to Optimus, who brushed his thumb digit down her back reassuringly.

"It is nothing. Ratchet is merely… troubled to have learnt what transpired during your interrogation," his tone was uncharacteristically dark, causing Riley to blink at him in surprise.

"He's upset about the grocyp? But it's essentially just a high-tech tracker, can't he just… take it out?"

Ratchet stiffened, staring at Optimus incredulously, "You haven't told her?"

Optimus's faceplate betrayed nothing, but Riley had the tiniest inkling that he was extremely uncomfortable about the direction this conversation was heading.

"Telling her achieves nothing," he answered, his tone perfectly neutral, "I do not wish to cause her unnecessary distress,"

Yep, definitely uncomfortable. And anything that made Optimus Prime of all people uncomfortable would definitely make her nervous.

"Tell me what?" she asked tentatively. Neither mech answered, and Optimus's solemn expression did nothing to quell her anxiety.

"Sir- Optimus? Tell me, please," she tried again, staring at him imploringly, "Please, whatever it is, just tell me."

His dermas tightened (she wasn't sure how it could be done given that he was made of metal, but he managed it) and for a moment she thought he wasn't going to tell her, but then he shuttered his optics in resignation.

"Very well, if you insist," he said slowly, "Be warned, the following information may upset you greatly."

Ohhh boy. Here we go.

She swallowed her nervousness and nodded, "Okay, I'm ready."

Optimus let out a deep ex-vent and began.

"Grocyp are used to bind symbiotes to their masters. They allow Cybertronians to monitor everything regarding their symbiotes- vitals, sensory input, even thoughts and emotions. The ability to track locations is merely one of its functions,"

"Sensory input… they can see through my eyes?" Horror bubbled within her, her head spinning, spinning, spinning, her line of sight distorted and blurred as she wrenched her head from side to side ferociously, determined not to allow her government any chance of recognizing the building she was in.

"I'm… I'm a security risk!," she gabbled desperately, panicked, "You need to get rid of me! They might see where we are! I can't… I can't…"

A warm digit on her shoulder cut off her rambling.

"Do not fret, little one," Optimus told her, his touch both grounding and comforting, "As I have said before, the grocyp requires seventy-two of your Earth hours to integrate itself within your frame before it begins to supply information to your government. As only four hours and twenty-nine minutes has passed since implantation, there is sufficient time for removal before it activates."

It's okay, it's okay. Calm down. Nothing bad is going to happen. Her heart was beginning to slow down when another thought struck her.

"Wait, but then… why is Ratchet so angry about it?"

Another deep ex-vent before Optimus continued.

"Cybertronians display complete dominance and ownership over their symbiotes by injecting them with their grocyp. The implantation of grocyp to a frame is considered highly invasive and intrusive. Thus, all Cybertronians are strictly forbidden to inject their grocyp in beings displaying even the most basic level of sentience as such an act would violate the beings' autonomy and individuality."

"Even Decepticons obey this rule. To this day, not a single Cybertronian has marked another sentient being with their grocyp, not even slaves would be marked with such an insult," Ratchet snarled, "Those fools have no idea what they had done."

Ah, then they were upset about the implications of the grocyp, not because something in her body could very likely tip the government off about their location and get them all killed.

This didn't bother her, she told herself firmly, it didn't bother her that she possibly registered as something non-sentient on their sensors. It didn't matter that her government, for which she'd risked her life for the past three years was the one that did this to her. It didn't matter because Savoy was just trying to track her (and see through her eyes and read her thoughts) and he (definitely) (probably) maybe didn't know about all this when he injected the grocyp into her and Ratchet was going to get it out anyway so this definitely did not bother her, not even a little bit-

"Riley,"

Her head jerked up, heart thumping wildly in her chest as she fought to control her laboured breathing. Optimus was staring at her, optics shining with unabated concern and another emotion she could not clearly identify.

"I'm fine," she forced a smile, though Optimus's expression told her that she wasn't going to be fooling anyone anytime soon, "really, I am."

She wasn't lying. Apart from the hollow, sinking feeling in her gut, she felt perfectly healthy.

"I'm fine," she repeated, mainly to herself, "and you said you can get it out, right?"

Another scan swept through her.

"It should be no challenge for me, were you Cybertronian," Ratchet answered gruffly, "I have never attempted a removal procedure on a human before."

His gaze turned sharp, "How long has it been since you last refuelled?"

"Um…"

"Primus help me… another idiot with a tendency to self-harm," Ratchet muttered under his breath before glaring at the chagrined human.

"You," he growled, jabbing a digit towards Optimus's chest plate, "take your charge"- Riley cringed as the digit travelled to her- "and feed her. I am not treating her until I know for certain her blood sugar will not plummet while undergoing surgery."

Optimus folded into alt mode quicker than Riley had ever seen him do, dropping her neatly into the driver's seat. As the semi peeled out of the building Riley could hear a resounding shout from the medic.

"And make sure she eats healthily, slaggit!"

To her credit, the cashier barely batted an eyelid when Riley hauled two shopping baskets filled to be brim with protein bars, energy bars, and any other non-perishables that are convenient to eat on the go (crackers, individually wrapped cakes, etc), as well as two five-litre bottled waters on the counter and handed her a gold credit card with 'NEST' etched on the front.

Riley wasn't stupid. She knew that each trip drastically increased their risk of being traced by the government, which was why she was going to make the most out of each trip and stock up as much as possible. This way, at least she could be less of a liability to the Autobots (only less of a liability, because no matter how hard she tried, she would always, always hold them back, hold them back from freedom, from escaping humanity because she was a human and nothing could change that, nothing, nothing).

Right before the cashier swiped the card across the reader, one of the items on display at the front counter caught her eye. Quickly stopping the cashier from ringing her up, she picked up the long, boxy, tube of hard-boiled milk candy from the shelf, examining it with a twist of wistful longing in her heart.

"Concentrated Milk Flavour!" the box proclaimed helpfully, and she was awash with a swell of nostalgia. Back then, they had struggled even to get three meals a day, yet her parents had still managed to scrape together just enough money for her birthday gift. Despite her best efforts to prolong it, the seven (seven! In a whole box! It's nothing if not a scam if you asked her) candies in the box had lasted less than a month. Yet the box itself accompanied her until it was worn and crumbly.

Home, the candies taste like home.

"If you're interested, these are on sale right now," the cashier piped up, seeing her hesitance.

Whether it was her desire to cling to a last shred of comfort or simply what the cashier had said she could not say, but she found herself dropping the box in her hand into one of the red plastic shopping baskets on the counter.

"Alright then," the cashier said cheerfully, transferring all the items in the baskets into two large white plastic bags, "that'll be two hundred and seventy-five dollars."

The card was swiped across the reader.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the cashier said apologetically a few seconds later, frowning at the monitor in confusion, "it seems like your card has been rejected. Would you like me to try again?"

Coils of unease began to unfurl in her stomach. "Uh, sure! Yeah, please do that," she managed faintly, forcing a quick smile to hide her rising panic.

NEST's special issued credit cards were given to every Autobot for emergency use. The cards were designed to be untraceable, compatible with every type of card reader, and had no credit limit, which meant purchases of any magnitude should not be a problem.

Unless… Cemetery Wind finally figured out a way to shut down the NEST funding account?

"I'm sorry, Miss, but your card got rejected again. Do you have any other form of payment you can use instead?"

Oh no, no, no.

"Miss?" the cashier's gaze held concern, but also a hint of worry, as if she already suspected what Riley was planning on doing.

Without a word, Riley reached out, snatched the card from the cashier's grip, grabbed the two large plastic bagfuls of groceries, and sprinted out the glass doors.

"Hey-"

Adrenaline coursed through her veins, heightening her senses. Her brain was more alert than she had been for a long time, and she was keenly aware of the incredulous shouts behind her, her own laboured breathing, and the repeated smacks of the two heavy bags against her legs.

Run run run run run, run to Optimus, get out of there, get out, get out, get out!

There! The Peterbilt parked right across the street. Run. Faster. Faster. Almost there!

"Stop right there!"

Almost there almost there almost-

She all but leapt into the truck, landing onto the seats in an ungraceful sprawl, bags strewn haphazardly onto the floor of the cabin. The door slammed shut immediately, engine starting with a deafening roar as the Prime accelerated away from her pursuers.

The ride back was silent, save for the quiet hum of Optimus's engines and the crunching in her ears as she chewed on a cheese-flavoured Ritz cracker methodically.

"Eat," Optimus had told her firmly, after she had sat there in the driver's seat numbly for more than a minute after they had started driving, the shock and adrenaline not having completely worn off.

So she had eaten, slowly and mechanically, barely aware of her movements. The crackers felt dry and salty against her tongue, the flavour of artificial cheese sticking to the roof of her mouth even after she swallowed.

Crackers which she had not paid for, she reminded herself, guilt clawing in her stomach where the weight of the swallowed food settled. Crackers which she had no right to have. Crackers which she had stolen.

The lone remaining cracker in the packet appeared even more unappetizing now.

Ignoring the foreign tightness in her throat, Riley folded up the opening of the red packaging carefully to prevent any crumbs from spilling out before stuffing the wrapped biscuit into the left pocket of her uniform, turning to stare at the scenery zooming past outside.

"The amount you consumed should not be sufficient to provide enough energy for sustaining your bodily functions,"

She knew she hadn't eaten since the tuna sandwich the soldier had given her, and even that had barely been enough to stave off her hunger at that time. She knew that she needed to eat.

But once she had taken out the bright red plastic packaging from her pocket and held it in her hand, she found that she could not.

Her gaze travelled to the two bulging plastic bags leaning against the passenger seat and immediately knew deep in her heart that she would not be able to eat anything inside. How could she, when the manner of which the food was obtained had violated every single core value that had been etched into her very being since a young age?

"Riley,"

She looked up at the dashboard, miserable, feeling as if her insides had been hollowed out.

"Why do you refuse to eat?"

"I stole this food, sir- Optimus," she told him flatly, bracing herself for his disappointment, "The NEST card didn't work- I think Attinger managed to disable it, and I didn't have any money on me and the cashier kept staring at me and I- I panicked. I didn't know what to do, so I just grabbed the bags and ran"- her voice cut off abruptly, impulsion forcing her to swallow thickly- "I didn't pay for this food. I'm sorry- I'm so sorry. Please don't hate me."

If this happened a stellar cycle ago Optimus would not have understood. Pit, it could have happened less than a solar cycle ago he still would not have understood. He would have reprimanded the offender for breaking the human law and brought them into custody.

Yet a lot had changed in the last solar cycle.

Over the last solar cycle, Optimus had witnessed the cruelty with which humans treated all who defied them, cruelty dealt without mercy nor remorse, not even towards their own kind. He understood that in certain situations one often had no choice but to do what they could to survive, even if it meant going against certain rules.

He was not about to let this femme berate herself over something she had no control over.

The touch of something smooth and metallic against the back of her hand startled Riley out of her thoughts. Blinking, she watched as Optimus's sparkling cable slowly curled its way along her arm up until her elbow.

"You are a good person, Riley Brown," Optimus's words, strong and confident, were said with such conviction that Riley could not help but believe him, "I believe deep in my spark that you would never intentionally do harm. Do not blame yourself for actions that have been forced upon you."

The sparkling cable was warm and grounding on her skin, and at that moment Riley wanted more than anything for it to wrap around her entire body and surround her with support and comfort.

"Thank you," she whispered, unfurling the folded packaging in her hand and taking out the remaining biscuit.

Once she had finished she rummaged in one of the plastic bags on her side and took out the tube of hard-boiled milk candy she had added to the shopping basket at the last minute, carefully unwrapping one and popping it in her mouth. A sliver of guilt resurfaced as she recalled how the cashier had cheerfully recommended it to her, but it was quickly chased away.

The candy was as good as she remembered, creamy, milky, and just the right blend of sweetness and saltiness. She savoured it slowly and deliberately, allowing the flavour to sweep across her tongue as she leaned back into the headrest. The wrapping, once smoothed out and refolded, was carefully tucked back into the box.

When this was all over, she vowed to herself, she was going to get a new job and pay back every penny she owed the store.

At first, there was only shock, quickly accompanied by disbelief. When his brain finally caught up with what he was hearing, sheer and utter joy ripped through him, along with bone-crushing relief and satisfaction because he knew it, he knew it, his Riley was good and loyal and didn't betray him. She couldn't have betrayed him. She was Riley, and she would never, never do anything like that. He may have had his doubts but deep down he always knew that his Riley was good. He knew it and he was right all along.

"Do you understand what you're being told, soldier?"

He didn't care that his commander was right in front of him. He didn't care that he would be making a fool out of himself. He didn't care that such disrespectful behaviour could very likely get him punished.

Steve threw back his head and laughed.

I have decided to change the rating of this story from K+ to T since Ratchet, being Ratchet, is prone to Cybertronian swearing