He sat up slowly, his head pounding in time with his heartbeat. It felt like all of his muscles were screaming at him to lay his head back down, but he didn’t like the way Rosie’s face pulled into worry.

“I don’t think so,” he said, and when he swallowed, it felt like there was shrapnel in his throat. “What time is it?”

“Almost lights out,” Rosie said, brushing his bangs back to press a hand against his forehead. “You look awful, Ev. And you feel like you’re on fire.”

“S’always hot in here,” Evan mumbled, rubbing at his eyes to try to make them stop aching. “An’ we run warm. God of the forge, and everything.”

“This is way more than that,” Rosie said, and the next thing he knew, he was being hauled to his feet. The world swam a bit, and he had to reach out a hand to steady himself on the edge of his desk.

“Woah, Posie, slow down.”

She stilled, eyebrows furrowing at her step-brother of sorts. Their godly parents were married, which had always meant more to Rosie than it had to the rest of her siblings, and his. But, she took it seriously, and so did he.

“Sorry, sorry. I just– you need to go see Cady. You’re definitely sick, you’re all pale and flushed and weak looking.”

“How can I look pale and flushed,” Evan asked quietly, putting his warm face in his freezing hands for a second.

That’s probably not a good sign, he thought.

“I don’t know! Like, pale on your whole face, but your cheeks are flushed. Like when someone has a fever. You know?”

“Not really,” he mumbled. The more he spoke, the more his throat hurt, and it sounded like he’d decided to swallow screws instead of using them for the… something he’d been building. He couldn’t really remember what he’d been in the forge for, anyway. Everything was foggy and disrupted, what with how badly his head was throbbing. And, now that he was thinking about it, he sort of felt like he was made of jello. His muscles were all protesting being upright.

“I’m gonna sit back down,” he said, and Rosie grabbed his arm.

“No way, Ev. You’re going with me to the infirmary. Cady can fix you up and then you can go to bed. Probably in there, she’s going to want to watch you. You know how she worries.”

“Mhm,” Evan said, though he didn’t want to go anywhere. He wanted to stay in the forge, where it was warm. “Are you sure I can’t stay here?”

“Evan Knight, you come with me right now.”

Oop, full name. Better listen.

He knew better than to fight with Rosie when she was set on something, and followed her as she started to pull him out of the forge and into the night air. As soon as they crossed the threshold he shivered, crossing his arms over his chest as he pulled out of Rosie’s grip.

“Gods, it’s cold.”

“It’s not,” Rosie said, worry inching back onto her face. “It’s actually really nice tonight.”

“Can I grab my sweatshirt?”

“No,” she said seriously, grabbing one of his arms, but letting him keep it crossed over his chest. “You don’t need to be any warmer than you already are. You’re going to melt your brain or something, or die from fever poisoning.”

“I don’t think that’s a thing,” Evan said, frowning as Rosie marched him toward the Big House. “I don’t think fever poisons you.”

“Well what do I look like to you? A healer? An expert on fevers? That’s why we're going to see Cady.”

“Cady can’t fix everything, Posie. Maybe she won’t be able to do anything about it.”

“She absolutely can,” Rosie said with such conviction that Evan’s next comment was stopped in its tracks. 

“Okay, Rosie Posie,” he said softly, trudging along with her even as each step made his muscles scream. “I believe you.”

As it turned out, Cady could do something about it. 

“Did you know you didn’t feel well when you went into the forge?” She asked, a hand against his forehead, and another on the back of his neck. She had her eyes closed as she concentrated on his body systems.

Or, at least that’s what she said she was doing.

He liked the way Cady talked when she was working. It made more sense to him; sharp and clinical, without all the emotions and niceties that made communication… difficult for him at times.

“No,” he said honestly. “But I’ve been really focused on this problem with my helicopter backpack thing, so I’ve sort of had my mind on that.”

She nodded. Cady understood that sometimes when he was focused on a project, his body cues went by the wayside. Maybe he had been feeling sick – he’d never know, and he’d never be able to tell her.

“Sounds about right,” she said, pulling her hands away and settling them on her hips. “That’s a pretty nasty cold. I can do some things right now, but sleep is really what’s going to help. In the morning when Will gets in, he’ll be able to deal with the rest of it. But, I can ease some stuff. Take the fever down. Help you sleep and stay asleep. Okay?”

He nodded, hoping that the sleep part would come sooner rather than later. The longer he was awake, the more miserable he felt.

Rosie was sitting next to him, worry literally radiating off of her, and Evan tried to give her a small smile.

“See, Posie? Sleep.”

“And other stuff!” she said, exasperated. “She literally said other stuff too. She’s gonna fix it. I told you, Cady can fix anything.”

Cady’s cheeks darkened, and she pulled at the navy scrub pants she wore during her shifts. “Gosh, Ros, you’ve got way too much faith in me.”

“No! You don’t have enough faith in yourself.” Rosie turned on Evan, pointing a finger at him. “And you don’t have enough faith in your friends. We love you. Let us love you and take care of you. I’m your big sister, damn it, and I’m going to act like it!”

Evan stared at her for a moment, the passion and fire in her eyes making him forget how awful he felt, until he had to turn away to stifle a bone-rattling cough into his elbow.

A hand was on his back in a second, rubbing gentle circles until the coughing fit passed, and when he looked up and shivered, Rosie was there, giving him a concerned and pitying expression. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, barely audible, and she shook her head.

“No, don’t apologize. Just let us take care of you instead of bruising it off as not a big deal. Sometimes things are a big deal, and that’s fine.” She nodded at him. “You’re allowed to be a big deal.”

They’d told him that before. That he was allowed to take up space and ask for help, and that he needed to take better care of himself, but he usually fell back into the old habits he’d gotten used to as a young kid. Fend for yourself, don’t take up space, and stay out of the way. 

But, it didn’t seem like Cady or Rosie minded that he was sick, or that he was going to take up their time, so maybe he could let himself have some attention. Just this once.

“Okay,” he said quietly, shifting so he could lay his head on Rosie’s shoulder. 

She stiffened for a moment, maybe surprised that he was actually listening for once, and then relaxed, pulling him close to her side. 

“Cady’s gonna do some stuff, and then you can go to sleep, okay?”

He nodded, closing his eyes against the harsh fluorescent of the infirmary, and snuggling a little closer to her side.

“Uh huh. Thanks, sis.”

Stealing the young Prime to be the future leader of Cybertron and heir to his position had been a stroke of genius if he did say so himself. The young mech was afraid but not too afraid to pick a fight with Megatron about the treatment of the autobots. He voiced his arguments often and loudly, and Megatron hoped he never realized that one of the reasons he wasn’t dealing with as many riots was because people noticed that Prime was still defending them and continued to remain healthy. 

Prime was mostly obedient, he knew his friends and his team of spacebridge technicians (oh, did the burn) were held over his head a subtle hostages. Not that Strika was planning on doing anything to Bulkhead. She adored the brilliant young mech to the point that Megatron was vaguely concerned. 

Which was why when Shockwave announced the Optimus had vanished through a spacebridge to Earth...he was startled. 

“He’s where?” 

“On Earth,” Shockwave replied with distaste. He had never been to Earth and he hated the notion of an Organic planet. Which he could have considered before taking in Bumblebee who happened to adore Earth. “Records indicate this trip has been made several times, with good attempts to conceal said trips.” 

“So it is not an escape.” Megatron mused. He had Alpha Trio, Ultra Magnus, Sentinel Prime, and all of the others under heavy guard, and the rest of the Autobot leaders were imprisoned or undergoing trial. “It is not a rebellion.” 

“It could be,” Shockwave reminded him, “very easily. He could have been the new Magnus had he.” 

“He wasn’t,” Megatron growled, “he was hobbled and was seconds away from imprisonment for trumped up charges of treason when we conquered. No...this is business. When are these visits?” 

“Clustered regularly to coincide for human months.” Having spent over twenty years on Earth, Megatrons first thought of “appointment” was spot on. This was scheduled, he was meeting someone. 

“Send someone to find him.” He ordered. “I will speak with him when he returns.” It was a promise and a threat. 

#$#$# 

“I can’t say that it’s been easy for you, or that it will get easier,” Mrs. Fanzone told Optimus as the young Cybertronian rested his helm in his servo and sighed. She was a few years older than her husband, the cranky if widely intelligent Captain Fanzone, and had been Optimus’ unofficial therapist for months during his defense of Earth. When he’d staggered back to Earth a year and a half later, looking betrayed, shocked, and grieving, she’s finally taken him officially as a client. As a neutral third-party, he was the voice of common sense telling him that he wasn’t going insane. “Just that it might eventually get easier.” 

“I’m not a sparkling,” he grumbled, but his spark felt lighter after talking to Dr. Fanzone. She was a lot like Ratchet, but also her own person. 

“No, you’re not. You know Optimus,” the woman lifted her knitting and held the budding scarf up for inspection. He nodded at the blue and red blocks with approval. “You’re facing what countless of people have faced before, at least somewhat. After the end of World War One in 1918, there was a shift in the world. The men and women involved couldn’t go back to what life had been before, and many of them were still young. You’ve experienced war, and you’ve lead troops into battle, and you’ve....you’ve killed like any soldier does” 

“I never wanted to,” Optimus said, and he looked down at his servos as if to see Energon splashed across them. 

“You’ve nearly been killed, and you’ve been in charge of a war, and now you’re suddenly not. In addition to being a political prisoner/hostage, you’re also under the direct attention of the man.” 

“Mech.” 

“Mech who tried to kill you countless times and conquered your planet.” 

“I know...I’m trying to keep people safe and I can’t say that he isn’t going a better job the Sentinel.” The doctor pursed her lips which Optimus took as a sign that she had met Sentinel. “But I’m not a sparkling and I don’t need to be mocked for being young when I’ve....I deserve better than some patronizing hardaft mocking me. I mean, he told me himself that if the council hadn’t tied me up, he couldn’t have taken Cybertron.” 

“Betrayed by your allies,” Dr. Fanzone asked, and he bit his glossa with a nod. “Betrayal takes a long time to process, Optimus. I understand if you’re still upset about it. I’d be confused if you weren’t. I’d be alarmed if you weren't, but the fact that they betrayed you hasn’t stopped you from trying to defend them.” 

“I learned a lot from Earth,” Optimus said, remembering watching Luke Skywalker, Captain Kirk, and the countless episodes of MASH with Ratchet. He wanted to defend people, and since Megatron listened to him...it was up to him. 

“Can I lend you a book?” She asked, and Optimus nodded. He had a significant stash of contraband from Earth already. Stuff that Megatron would destroy if he knew about.  He wasn’t going to give up Queen just because Megatron had a thing against Earth. Getting up, she moved from the balcony to the bookshelf just inside her office. Optimus took a moment to survey the backyard and winced at the sight of another crushed rosebush. “Here,” she returned with a book. 

“The Chronicles of Narnia,” he read the title. “Really? Isn’t this a children’s book?” 

“It’s for everyone,” Dr. Fanzone told him, “just read it and when you come back, tell me what you think.” 

“Are you allowed to assign readings?” 

“I’m the therapist to a giant robot from outerspace who is functionally a captive prince,” she said dryly. “I’m playing it by ear. Do you want me to send a parenting book to Megatron?” 

Optimus laughed...and then nodded. “It’ll be funny.” 

“Alright,” she vanished back inside, and Optimus tucked the book into his subspace, where he’d hidden Bulkheads new poster, video games for Bumblbee, and the eleven seasons of MASH for Ratchet. “So, here you go. Please don’t get dead. I’ll put you down for the right time next month too.” 

“You know that Megatron actually says month?” Optimus said, standing. “He uses other Earth terms too. It’s actually pretty funny. I get that he spent 50 years here, but still.” 

“50 years is a long time, even for him.” 

“I guess, I’d better get going. If I get caught there will be trouble for more than just me.” 

“Alright,” Dr. Fanzone watched the  firetruck transform and vanish down the back alley. She offered a prayer to anyone who might be listening that Optimus would be okay. 

##$3 

Optimus had made this trip four time without problems, it was the fifth time that he stepped through the front doors of the residence that he and Megaron shared where he found himself in trouble.