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Sweat trickles down my forehead. My hands tap a quick rhythm on the metal table in front of me. It's cool underneath my fingertips. Feels almost like the table I was strapped to.

The lights are familiar, too. Bright and hot, they bleed into my skin, mocking me, hurting not only my eyes but everything else too. My stomach is churning, and my heart hasn't stopped racing since they put another pair of handcuffs on me and sat me in a chair, the hospital gown doing very little to keep me warm in the drafty room.

In front of me sits the man who ruined everything--Theodore Galloway. His mouth is moving, but no words come out. There's a buzzing in my ears that drowns out everything else. My eyes trail over his features, from the sharp suit he's wearing to the glare in his glasses. His eyes seem almost pitless from behind them despite their light hue.

Behind him stand men. Clad in black, they all stand identically with their arms cross in front of them like they're looking over the President and not his lackey.

My dad sits beside Galloway, face ashen and ugly. His eyes are tinged red. I regard him with empty eyes before moving my gaze to the other three men in the room.

Optimus Prime.

Ratchet.

Ron.

They're standing to the side of the room, looking as uncomfortable as they can with straight faces. My head still pounds, sharp pains shooting through it as I stare at them. Something bitter curls in me, and my eyes water and something vicious claws its way through me and I clench my hands, turning away from them. Wondering why they're even here.

It was one thing for my father to keep something like this from me, but for them to use human faces and trick me? To use my own memories against me and lie right to my face when it could have been resolved with the truth?

I think of all the times Ron's cursed in the odd language. I think of how Ratchet thanked Primus. I think of how Ron turned me away, time after time, how his eyes glazed over sometimes when I said something that touched on the truth. I think of how he described the twins. I think about how they almost destroyed a hangar and how I thought it was weird and how I still didn't see.

How I didn't see when I punched him in the face and broke my hand. How I didn't see when Optimus came to my house and talked to me and he was in a flaming truck that reminded me of cherry blossoms and fire. How I didn't see when Ron told me, time and time again, Eleanor, I am sorry, but I can't--

"Eleanor!"

A hand slams down in front of me.

I flinch back, away from the sound and the man in my face. A gasp escapes my lips and my heart races for completely different reasons.

In my chest, something pinches together, then rips apart. I bite my lip, hands automatically reaching for it even though there's nothing I can do with them bound like this.

I glare at Galloway.

"Sir-"

"Need I remind you: she is injured and does not need her injuries to become agitated," Ratchet states. "If I exam her later and find that she has done something to her wound, I will not be happy."

"She wasn't listening," Galloway says, glancing at Ratchet quickly before his eyes land on me again. He doesn't seem disturbed by the underlying threat in Ratchet's suggestion. "I needed to get your attention, Miss Cambridge. We just have a few questions. Concerns, if you will."

"Concerns," I repeat. I want to laugh. Like, what? The fact that there are three aliens in here pretending to be human. The fact that when I look at one of those aliens it feels like I've lit my entire body on fire for all the wrong reasons. The fact that I am both comforted and disgusted by Ron's eyes and his being and him.

"For starters," Galloway continues like I didn't say anything, "what were you spewing out earlier? Something about a man? An intruder?"

Intruder? I squint away from the light, tilting my head. Thoughts race through my mind. I came down here because there was a voice in my head. I saw something-bright red and giant, a Cybertronian-and I ran from it.

Right?

My mind searches through the memories, but they're foggy and I don't really know if I can trust them. What if was a figment of my imagination? What if Starscream did something to make me hallucinate? What I saw might not have actually been there. I could have ruined everything for nothing.

"I don't know," I say, shaking my head. "I don't remember. . . It could have been-"

"Could have been what, Miss Cambridge?" Galloway throws something onto the metal table. It slides to me with a hiss. I glance at the items-pictures. The door to my room, knocked off its hinges. A giant crack from the other door I slammed open. Purple smeared on the doorknobs.

I glance at my wrists. A deep lilac paints my pale wrists with shadows. It's from the needles in my arms, from when I pulled them out. I ache to touch the skin, to feel if it's okay, but my hands are bound.

"It couldn't have been nothing if you were scared enough to destroy government property," Galloway continues, sighing underneath his breath. My eyes won't leave the giant crater in wall or the purple. "Tell me, how exactly did you bring an entire door off its hinges? How did you escape from the handcuffs? No normal human would have been able to snap the metal like you did."

"I don't know."

If they think I have any idea what's happened to my body, they're wrong. It feels like I've been put in a new one, forced to learn everything over again. My limbs feel heavy and my eyes are always hurting, my head aching and turning because I can feel-can hear and smell and taste everything now. Everything is new but so old, so distant. So close.

"You must know something." He leans down, ducking down to meet my eyes. He gives me a faux grin when I reluctantly stare at him. "Come on, now, just tell us what happened so we can help you, Eleanor."

Help me? I raise a brow, looking between Galloway and the handcuffs, almost scoffing. Helping how? By bringing up unpleasant memories of my captivity? By putting these men who I can't trust in a room with me?

"I was. . ." I clench my eyes shut, breathing deeply. Something thick and wet slides down my stomach, dampening the bandages. I swallow, pain shooting through me.

"Yes?"

"I was supposed to tell Ratchet what happened," I say, blinking them open and glaring at Galloway. "Not you."

Galloway doesn't show his surprise, but he does glance back at Ratchet with a thoughtful hum. I focus on the fire blooming from my chest, more sweat collecting on my brow. I inhale a deep breath, shaky as it is.

"I understand that," Galloway says slowly as though he's talking to a child. Something curls in my chest, hot and angry, and I want to attack this man for treating me so lowly. "But you must understand that Ratchet has been too. . . lenient with you regarding this situation. He has allowed personal matters cloud his judgement on what really matters."

"And. . . what is that?"

"Us finding out what the Decepticons want, of course," Galloway says. He crosses his arms over his chest, pacing back and forth. "We knew that they wanted the Cube from the boy, but to abduct a human in plain sight. . . Well, this is interesting, you see. What we want to know is why?"

"Don't we all." I roll my eyes.

"Pardon?"

"Don't we all want to know why? Like, for instance, I would love to know why I wasn't informed that there were alien robots around me," I say with a hollow smile. "I would love to know why Barricade took me, too."

"I imagine you have some clue as to why they captured you."

I ponder over the weak memories. "Not really. If you didn't know, being held captive by two giant robots who only want to experiment on your body doesn't really leave you conscious most of the time."

"There wasn't a time where you were awake where you heard them talking about you?" Galloway raises a brow, clicking his teeth together. "I apologize, Miss Cambridge, but I find that hard to believe."

"Okay."

What am I supposed to do? Try and change this man's mind? It's obvious he is seeing what he wishes to, and my story would not matter. I can see it now, the picture almost clear in my head: he is going to tell his men to apprehend me. I seem like a traitor. My father will cry out, but he cannot deny authority, either. This will be above his head. Prime, the boss, he will be reasonable-he will try to defend Ratchet's case. It will not work. I will be put in hold.

"Okay?"

"I don't understand what you want-" I take a deep breath, stomach pinching uncomfortable, "-me to say. You won't believe a word that comes out of my mouth, and I don't even want to tell you. My wish it to tell Ratchet like I had intended to."

"You run into the hangar like a maniac on a rampage, and you expect me to accept that it was because you wished to speak to your medic about your experiences with the Decepticons?"

"Yes."

Galloway slams a hand on the table. I jump, breath hissing.

"That is a lie, Miss Cambridge. You were spewing utter nonsense about an intruder. . ."

Big. Red. Had a gun. Memories of fondness. An acceptance. A willingness to die.

Until my spark fades. . .

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're lying!"

He's in my face now, his eyes blue and pitiless and ugly. Not like Ron's. Not like Ratchet's. Not bright with life or emotion or even a semblance of knowledge. They're empty and ugly and I want to strangle him until they're popping out of their sockets-

I shake my head, inching away from him with heavy breaths. I sit my head on the table, the cool metal a balm against the pounding resounding through it.

That wasn't my thought. No, it couldn't have been. I don't wish ill upon people, nor do I think about performing the action myself. I chew on my bottom lip, pinch it so hard with my teeth that it draws blood. My stomach is on fire now, and when I reach my hands down to touch the gown, my hand comes back tinted.

"Eleanor," Ron says, tone worried and so much like the Ron I thought I knew. "Eleanor, are you alright?"

I can hear him take the step forward. His feet are heavy but light, sure of where they're going before he takes the first step. Galloway's men stop him.

"She is clearly in distress!" he exclaims but doesn't try to force his way through.

"She is bleeding," Ratchet says. His voice is cold like it's always been, a scalpel always ready to cut. "Her wound has been opened. I warned you. . ."

"She is not cooperating."

"She has told you her wishes," Ratchet replies shortly, and then there's a hand on my shoulder. "What I suggest you do, Director Galloway, is respect them before you come to regret it."

Galloway swallows, and it is loud in my ears. "Is that a threat, robot?"

"Merely an observation. I will be taking her now to attend to what you have caused." Ratchet shakes my shoulder gently. "Eleanor? Will you come with me?"

And I nod, because the pain is so intense, and I fear that it will rip me apart from the inside out if I don't follow him. I stand, but I pause when he tries to steer me towards the door, glancing at my dad. I don't want to-I can't be alone with Ratchet. What will he do? Will his eyes change into the same crimson that Barricade's did?

I shouldn't risk it. Dad nods silently, and Galloway doesn't argue because my gown is soaked through and he can't stop staring at the lavender staining the white.

โœฆ

Ratchet remains silent while he works on closing my stitches again. We're in a room close to the interrogation place Galloway had me in. He hadn't wanted to go too far, and Galloway's men are standing outside, waiting for him to finish so we can continue the "conversation" from earlier.

Dad's sitting beside me on the examination bed, and he's holding my shaking hand. He hasn't said a word, but then again, neither have I. I've just been wincing occasionally when Ratch hits a sensitive spot on my stomach.

Optimus and Ron stand on either side of the door with all the grace of two bodyguards. How they managed to sneak in here is beyond me, but when the door closed, they were standing inside the room with us. I didn't have the heart-energy, really-to tell them to leave, so they've just been standing there silently.

As Ratchet sews in the last stitch, he wipes away the excess blood that clotted on the exterior of my skin. The material he used will disintegrate in a couple days. I stare at the black threading before I pull the hospital gown down over the wound. Ratchet hands me a cup full of water and two small pills.

"For the pain and swelling," he explains when I only stare at them.

My hands shake as I reach for the cup, but I manage to grab it. The pills are tiny, but they feel huge as they go down my throat. Swallowing is a feat. Ratchet watches me, and if I didn't know any better, I would think that he could see the moment that they went down my throat. I toss the cup back to him, and he crumples it up, throwing it in the garbage.

"Eleanor," Prime starts, and the vicious feeling in me stirs up again. I don't want him speaking my name, don't want him in the same room as me.

I gaze at the tan leather underneath me. "Yes."

I try to tame the feeling. They helped me, after all. Lied to me. Manipulated me. Stitched me up when I almost died.

"I do hate to burden you with this," he continues softly, so quiet that the men outside won't be able to hear him. "But-"

"You need to know what Starscream wanted. Why he took me." I heave a deep breath, cracking my neck. "You need to know if I'm a threat, don't you?"

Dad hisses. "That's not it, Ellie."

"Is it not?" I ask, head tilting. I think back to the distrust in Galloway's eyes, the way he deemed me evil before hearing my story. "I think it might be, Dad. I think if I don't tell you guys what you want to hear, Galloway is going to lock me up, isn't he?"

"He will take precautions," Optimus says.

"Precautions?" I chuckle. "What have I done, exactly?"

"You saw the pictures, Eleanor," Ratchet replies.

I nod, pressing my hands against my gown. The clean fabric, rid of all blood, is warm against them, but it doesn't ease the knot in my stomach or the pain in my head.

"I saw them."

"You escaped from handcuffs."

"Any human can do that."

"But it is difficult," Dad snaps, standing up and running a hand through his hair. "Not only that, but you brought a door off its hinges, and made a crater when you pushed the door in to get into the hangar."

The pictures glare at me in my mind. My veins are on fire. I understand their concerns, but they could be off base as well. In that moment, I could have done anything. Anything to get away from what I thought was chasing me.

"It was an accident," I try.

"And we believe that," Optimus presses, taking another step closer. "Which is why you must hasten with your explanation, young one. We can only buy so much time before we are rendered helpless."

"Okay," I say, stomping down on everything that wants to rise in me. I choke on the memories, force them to stay steady in my mind. I can do this. I won't let Galloway threaten me. I know who I am. I know what happened. I am not evil. "Alright, ask me anything."

"The most important thing here is that we understand why they took you?" Optimus presses his hands together, lips pursed. "I have searched every database I could find, but there is nothing interesting that I could find in human bodies that a Cybertronian would be attracted to."

"I don't know," I say, truthfully, thinking back to those days with foreign words and angry curses. "I remember Barricade saying that Starscream should have killed me."

"Killed you?" Ron demands. "How?"

"I assume when he attacked my brother and I last year," I say. "Remember? I told you. You said that nightmares could be daunting. Suggested some ways to get rid of them? Ring a bell?"

"Eleanor," he starts.

"Whatever you have to say to me, you can save it," I snap. "I'm going to tell you what I know and then we'll let Galloway decide what to do with me."

Ron presses his lips together and nods once. For a moment, I'm stuck on the fact, yet again, that he is not this human he has transformed himself into. There is another part of him, a giant metal robot that walks around with a human mask. For a moment, all I can do is stare.

I shake the thought away. The only thing I need to focus on now is answers. I'll tell them what I know, what I went through. They'll decide my fate.

But the words don't come easy to me. It's like there's something lodge in me, like a damn that's been built to prevent water from overflowing.

I should be able to tell them, no matter how difficult it may be. The memories are speeding through my brain at an alarming rate, so real that I'm almost there, reliving it. If only I could show them instead of tell them. . . If only they could see instead of hear. . .

A sharp pain shoots through my eyes, unprompted and unwelcome. I hiss, slapping a hand over my right one. The pain is deep and sharp, shooting through my eye back into my brain. A hot stake. My dad tries to touch me, but I swat his hand away, biting my lip to ward off a scream that wants to escape. What is happening?

Where did it come from? I had no trouble with my head except for the slight headaches and short bursts of pain. This ongoing, searing ache rushing through me is unwanted and new. So new and fresh that the only thing I can do is cry, scrubbing at my eye in hopes that it goes away.

"Eleanor, I need to assess what is happening," Ratchet says. Footsteps echo on the floor before he settles in front of me. His hands grip my wrists. He attempts to free my eye, the right one that's still burning with enough heat to make me wish I was numb. "Can you allow me to take a look at your eye?"

A protest falls off my lips; I don't want Ratchet to look at my eye. I want him to take it out. I want him to take a needle and stick it in me and insert something-anything-that will get rid of this pain. This burn.

But denying him would be wrong, so I hesitantly let him guide my hand down, blinking wearily. Around me is darkness. I can't even make out Ratchet-can't feel his hand on my face.

Instead, I am bound, forced to look into Starscream's eyes for what feels like the first time. The scream that cuts through me does not fall out of my mouth, but it might as well of. I can hear him, can feel his footsteps coming closer. His machinery whirring and buzzing, alight with a life that I wish were gone. He nears my bed, and I close my eyes, because I can recite the words almost:

"Eleanor Cambridge, you are a hard fleshing to track down."

The scene zooms by so quickly that I can barely keep up. I am still bound, still on the torturous table.

"Start with the energon."

A pinch, right below my elbow. Stinging, but not. I glance up. The bright blue. My mind supplies Ron's face, grinning softly. I am comforted for the moment. I push the memory away quickly before I can injure myself anymore.

The next one starts with Cade-Barricade snarling Starscream's name. "We are losing her vitals."

The memory is around me, surrounding me

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