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Arcee sat and sulked. She wasn’t afraid just sulking, because all the grown-ups were awful and indifferent. It wasn’t her fault she had run from her sire and gotten lost. The big adult bots were to blame, always walking too fast and never looking under their pedes.
She waited at the street corner, remembering her promise to her carrier: stay in one place if lost. Arcee always kept her promises, her grand-creator had taught her that promises must never be broken.
Moon-1 had already dipped below the horizon, and Moon-2 hung high in the sky. Still no creators, no aunts or uncles, no cousins or sisters. She wondered if anyone had even noticed her absence. She was the youngest, the one everyone watched over. Strange, then, that her sire had lost her in the crowd. No, it wasn’t that she let go of his servo and chased a turbo-rat into an alley - he simply hadn’t been paying attention.
The turbo-rat escaped, and her sire vanished too. So she stayed put, waiting. Shadows of passing adults shifted across the pavement until one stopped, falling directly over her. Arcee looked up.
A very tall bot stood there: red, blue, and silver armor, gold chains and hoop earrings on his audio receptors, a broad belt with sheer fabric flowing down his legs. He was clearly not from Polyhex. And he was striking. The bot knelt on one knee.
“Are you lost?”
His voice was gentle yet strong, like the narrator at the library where her aunt worked. He looked at her with curiosity and care. Arcee didn’t feel threatened.
“No, I’m waiting for my sire.”
“They left you here? Alone?” He glanced around, then back at her. Arcee hunched her shoulders.
“No, I’m waiting for them to find me.”
“Oh,” he murmured awkwardly. “Can I help in any way?”
She wanted to say no, but this grown-up didn’t seem mean. He had offered help himself. She hummed thoughtfully. He was very tall.
“Can you pick me up? Please?”
The bot extended his palm, so large she could fit inside it. Arcee climbed into his hand, then up his arm, settling on his shoulder and holding the side of his helmet. The chains swayed and got in the way.
“Do you see your sire?”
She scanned the crowd. Her sire’s armor was pink with yellow accents. Time to search for pink bots. Aha!
“That way! Pink bot dead ahead!”
The stranger obeyed, walking where she pointed. Arcee clutched his helmet, though the ornaments annoyed her. He stopped, and she frowned—her sire could vanish at any moment.
A large servo hovered beside her.
“May I? You won’t fall. I’ll support you.”
It didn’t seem harmful. Falling from this height would hurt.
“Okay.”
He held her gently as they walked. The chains and rings swayed with each step. Arcee liked them - shiny and delicate. She grabbed one, watching it shimmer in Moon-2’s light.
“Do you like it?” he asked softly.
Startled, she let go.
“You’re not from here, are you?”
“Mhm.”
“Where from?”
“A city called Iacon. Heard of it?”
Yes. Her grand-creator had said it was a beautiful place, full of tall, elegant bots and spires that reached the sky.
“Yes, my grand-creator said most Iaconians are lookers.”
Oops. She had meant something else. The stranger stumbled, catching her just in time.
“Do you know what that word means?” he asked quietly.
“No, but my carrier said she’d wash my vocalizer with soap if I said it.”
“It’s a bad word. Don’t say it until you’re older, okay?”
“Will you tell my carrier I said it?”
“No.”
“Then okay.”
They were almost upon her sire now. The tall bot stopped.
“Excuse me, sir. Is this your missing one?”
“Arcee!” Her sire reached out. The stranger carefully handed her over. Her sire hugged her tightly.
“I was so scared when I realized you weren’t beside me.”
“Thank you,” he said to the tall bot.
“There’s no need,” the Iaconian replied softly. “I’m just glad I could help.”
Her sire insisted on repaying him, but the stranger only smiled, unclasped one of his chains, and offered it to Arcee.
“Here. Take it.”
Then he rose, gave her sire a final nod, and disappeared into the crowd. Arcee couldn’t take her optics off the chain all the way home. Only when her carrier asked where she had gotten it did she realize - she never even learned his name.
Cycles passed. Arcee grew taller than her sire, though still shorter than her carrier. The memory faded, and the chain became a bracelet around her wrist. Then war came. She lost family. On one mission, the chain broke, and she had no time to retrieve it.
She lost Taigler. Then Cliffjumper.
Now she waited for her own death. But Primus mocked her, she wanted a glorious end in battle, not in a frozen wasteland.
Her only comfort was that she wasn’t dying alone. Optimus lay beside her, his servo holding hers. She wondered if she could wrap at least two of his fingers in her small hand.
Silence stretched. Arcee hated silence, it brought ghosts. She was tired. At least Optimus was still warm.
And suddenly she remembered that day. She had never seen that bot again. The chain was long gone. She looked at the large servo holding hers.
“Sorry,” she whispered. Optimus glanced at her, confused. She smiled. “I lost that chain you gave me.”
Recognition flickered in his optics. He smiled faintly.
“That’s okay.”