"The birth of a star will often go unseen for years."

★☆★☆★☆★☆★

The woman fiddles nervously with the jewelry around her neck. It's not much more than a ring on a piece of string, but it means the world to her. The ring itself is very dense, the metal crafted expertly into the gorgeous ornament that hangs at the ex-mechanic's neck.

Toby is anxious. Not only that, but she is afraid as well. She's aware that the Autobots were excited to know that she would be coming to the base, and she's aware that she has permission to be at the new NEST base, but it doesn't stop her nerves. The Autobots haven't seen her since the day of her surgery—nearly two months prior to this moment—and don't know how she's been. In summary, she's worried that she'll be judged for her new disability and scared that she won't be accepted properly.

"You good back there, kiddo?" Her uncle asks her, turning in his seat to look at the woman.

"Yeah," her voice cracks as she numbly stares out the window.

Below them, the ocean ripples and sways, its power and might left forgotten in the mid afternoon heat. Small wisps of cloud part for the military plane that Toby had—out of boredom—learnt was called a Boeing C-17 Globemaster iii. Occasionally, a bird comes into view, only to disappear again a moment later.

The woman sighs to herself, now playing with the bandanna she had tied around her neck earlier in the day. She wears an army green sleeveless top that her uncle allowed her to borrow and a pair of denim shorts that only just cover her bandaged stump. Her wheelchair is strapped down against the wall of the plane, between two seats occupied by unfamiliar NEST soldiers that send her odd looks every now and then.

"Take a picture, boys, it'll last longer," Toby snaps, growing tired of the judging stares of the soldiers. Robert chuckles as the young men turn their heads away in a flash.

"Careful, Tobbes, you don't want them fearing you just yet," he laughs, adjusting a bag at his feet.

"Mmm," the woman hums as she 'thinks', shaking her head quickly, "no, I do. 'Cause they shouldn't underestimate the one in a wheelchair," she says the last bit a little louder than necessary for the men to hear her.

She returns her gaze to look out the window, mentally noting the lightening shade of blue in the ocean.

"We are about to make our descent to Diego Garcia. Please remain seated during this time," the captain's voice notifies the men onboard, also causing the young woman to stiffen.

Her grip on the arm of her chair tightens, her knuckles turning white as she gulps. Flying has never been her thing. Sure, she can handle it once up in the air, but taking off and landing? Nope.

"Hey," her uncle soothes from his place a few seats over, giving Toby something to focus on, "it's alright. We're just landing, nothing's gonna happen. Just breathe and stay calm."

One of the young men, likely a new recruit, looks over at the woman in sympathy, but not for her disability. "Nervous flier?"

She nods stiffly, face paling as the plane drops slightly in the air.

"Well," Toby opens an eye at the man's shaky tone, "you're not the only one."

To her left, she sees the soldier, skin pale and shining with sweat. His chestnut hair sticks up at odd angles, looking like he often runs his hands through it, and his eyes remain tightly shut. She would have laughed had she not been feeling the same way.

"The name's Will, Will Evans," he says breathily, still refusing to open his eyes. "I'm working as an engineer and programmer. What about you?"

"Toby Hills," the woman bites her tongue to keep herself from letting out a small scream as the plane drops again. "No occupation as of yet, though I hope to train to be their medic. Currently an inventor in my own time."

"Pleasure," Toby mentally notes that he looks a bit green. "Allow me to restrain myself from being sick as we land."

"Of course," she says with a shaky smile, going back to pressing herself against her chair.

Both visibly relax and sigh in relief when the wheels touch the ground, colour returning to their faces as the plane slows to a stop. Nobody moves until the all clear is given, and as the soldiers unbuckle themselves, Lennox makes his way to the exit, halting to await the new recruits.

"Right," he begins loudly, casting a quick glance at Toby as her uncle helps remove the straps on her wheels, "those of you who have not done this already, you will follow me. Introductions are required for you to work with us, as I'm sure you are aware, and they will take place shortly. Hills," Toby looks up at the captain, "you will be coming also."

She nods, gulping slightly despite the small smile she wears. The cargo door opens, allowing bright sunlight to blind the woman momentarily as her uncle pushes her forward. She passes a nervous, yet excited, looking Will, making her shake her head at him.

"Let's go!" Lennox commands, turning away from the newbies with a fighting smirk.

Robert taps Toby's shoulder to gain her attention. "You'll be giving them a run down on how to treat the 'bots, if that's alright."

"Oh, yeah," she grins. "I'd say I know their personalities quite well, considering that you've never really experienced them when they're not antsy."

Her uncle laughs, pushing her across the hot tarmac towards the tallest airplane hangar that Toby has ever seen. Its roof easily surpasses Optimus' height, the hangar doors left wide open to reveal a line of well polished cars and trucks that do not belong in the military.

"Lennox," the woman calls, making the man stop. "I'll brief them here if that's good with you."

He nods with a smirk, ordering the soldiers to halt. "Before we get started, Hills here is going to brief you on each Autobot."

"Just call me Toby," she shakes her head. "Right, listen up, you lot! There are five Autobots that you will be meeting today. I will inform you of their designation, rank, alt mode, and general personality; trust me, this is important. First, there is Optimus Prime. He is the leader of the Autobots, and I expect you to treat him with the utmost respect, though he is typically calm and stoic, do not, under any circumstance, tick him off. His alt mode is the red and blue Peterbilt semi. Next, is Ironhide. He is the weapons specialist of the group and likes to show off his cannons. Do not panic if he displays them to you with the barrel in your face; he would never hurt a human. You will see him as the black Topkick pickup. Then, we have Ratchet, our medic. He expresses a distaste for humans, and though he will not kill you, there is a chance that he unintentionally will harm you if you annoy him enough. As expected, he's the neon yellow Hummer ambulance. The last of the mechs is Bumblebee, the youngest and also the scout. He has guardianship over Samuel Witwicky, who you might see around this week, and he enjoys music and a good joke. He's basically a teenager to us. See that yellow Camaro with black racing stripes? That's him."

"Ma'am?" One of the recruits says nervously. "You said we'd be meeting five Autobots, but you only mentioned four."

Toby chuckles at his statement, pulling a chain necklace out from under her shirt. On it, a dog tag is displayed, with the name 'Toby Hills' imprinted on it and a contact number beneath. However, instead of a blank space beside the details, there's an Autobot insignia cut in the metal.

"Our last Autobot has no designation, rank, or alt mode. She only has a name and personality," she smirks at their confusion. "I'm Toby Hills. I'm sarcastic, sassy, and analytical. I will warn you now, don't tick me off; I nearly shot a man for insulting my mother, and I can be fragging scary when I want to be. If you are currently judging me for my lack of limbs, I'll have you know that I can have four very powerful Autobots on your aft in a flash and that I single handedly took on Megatron during the Battle of Mission City. Any questions?"

The group gapes at her in shock, only Lennox and Robert chuckling at their expressions. The former pats the woman on the shoulder before turning around to continue leading the recruits who shake themselves out of their surprise.

Robert stays out of the way with Toby, far enough to be unnoticeable but close enough to see the line of Autobots. They watch with grins as the new recruits line up across from the Cybertronians, knowing how unprepared they are for what's about to happen.

Lennox gives the order, and all the vehicles suddenly start shifting, their gears and parts readjusting themselves as the mechs stand up. Most of the recruits back up, three faint, only one seems completely unfazed. Evans.

The young man appears completely entranced with the alien beings, a broad grin across his face. His eyes are locked on Ironhide as the weapons specialist brings out his proton cannons, pointing both at the man. He doesn't flinch, only reaching forward to touch the warm metal.

Ironhide is obviously caught off guard by this, and retracts his cannons before Will can touch them. It's impossible to miss the disappointment in the man's eyes.

"Still pulling that old trick, 'Hide?" Toby tuts as her uncle pushes her into the hanger. "Thought you would've had somethin' new by now."

The reaction is immediate, three of the four mechs stepping over to greet the woman. Optimus stays where he is, servos behind his back with a small smile on his dermas, whereas the others act like puppies, bombarding Toby with questions and small pokes.

"Now, now," she teases, swatting at their digits, "there's no need to get so excited; you'll be seeing a lot more of me in the future."

The two older 'bots back up at her request, both seeming to realise what they had been doing and appear to become a bit awkward. Bumblebee however, remains curious and excitable, whirring and beeping as he pokes the young woman's chest.

"I'm alright, 'Bee," she lies with a laugh. "I've got a thing or two to do, then I can hang out with you, ya big softie."

"~Am not!" His radio whirs as he pouts childishly.

"Yes, you are," she disagrees, gently patting his cheek plate in a soft tease. "Now, uncle. I believe there's someone I am supposed to meet, is there not?"

"Hills," an older man dressed in a US marine uniform with badges adorning his lapel greets formally, stepping out from beside Optimus.

"General Morshower," Toby addresses him, sitting up straighter.

"Toby Hills, it's a pleasure," the general sticks out his left hand for the woman to shake, making her smile as it's clear to her that he's right handed.

"I've been told that you want to discuss something with me, is that correct?" She tilts her head, forcibly trying to be more formal.

"Yes, there is a matter that requires attention," he nods, briefly glancing at the man behind her. "It's your position here at NEST that I have yet to understand."

Three of the four Autobots in the hanger whip around to glare threateningly at the general, causing Toby's lips to twitch upwards in an amused smile. She studies the man's stance and posture, then his hardened expression, finally searching his eyes for his intentions. A smirk takes its place on her face as she finds what she's looking for.

"With all due respect, sir," she starts, "anyone who thinks that I am anything but capable needs to rethink their perspective and get a smack round the head. I am willing to take on any and every task assigned to me to prove my ability. Just because I'm disabled does not mean that I'm unfit for the work expected of everybody, it means that I get to prove my worth among the ranks. But I am not here for the military or the government; I'm here for the Autobots that saved our planet and my life."

There's a pause as the general's expression remains neutral, Toby quirking a brow with an expectant smile. Then he smirks, and the tension in the air eases into a more comfortable atmosphere.

"You'll do great, soldier."

"Autobot, inventor, ex-mechanic maybe, but I'm not a soldier," the woman huffs factually. "I pray you understand that I take my orders from Optimus Prime, not you."

"And you will take orders from General Morshower when they are given, unless otherwise informed," the Autobot leader states, the slight amusement in his voice is hard to miss.

"You're no fun," she frowns, shaking her head before looking up at her elder. "Is that all, sir?"

"Yes, that is all. Welcome to NEST," he nods with a small smirk.

"It's a privilege," she says, watching his back as he marches away, called by his unending list of duties.

Toby chuckles lightly as her uncle lets out the breath he had been holding. "You have some serious guts, Tobbes."

"I gave him the answers he wanted. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Yeah, but I still thought you were going to snap at him for questioning your ability," Robert says breathlessly, though the smirk is evident in his voice.

The woman hums, moving her gaze to the Autobot leader as he speaks with Lennox.

Feeling a pair of eyes on his frame, Optimus looks away from the captain, finding the cloudy eyes of the young ex-mechanic. He frowns slightly at the distant and troubled emotions swirling in them, like glacier ice that has been abused by the forces of nature, making it lose its gleam.

Subtly, the Prime dismisses Lennox, delaying their conversation until a later time. He stands, noting that Toby has yet to notice his movement, and leans over to Ratchet, tapping his shoulder plate to gain his attention.

A few words are shared between them, both expressing concern but the medic denying a request before Optimus moves away, leaving him to dwell in his thoughts. Ratchet hums lowly, eyeing his friend as he makes his presence known to the woman, consequently causing her to jump in surprise. Her elder relative pats her shoulder and leaves the two alone, having received some sort of request of privacy.

The old medic watches with crossed arms as his leader picks up his charge—wheelchair and all—and exits the main hangar with a few short words to the woman. He taps a digit in anticipation and agitation, optic brows furrowing at a fleeting thought before thinking better of it.

He turns on his pede, only to lean backwards in discomfort as he discovers the close proximity of Ironhide. The weapons specialist wears a smirk, one that makes his comrade cringe, and rests his servos on his hips. Not a good sign.

"You should tell her."

Ratchet blinks in confusion. "What?"

Ironhide rolls his optics. "You care for her do you not?"

"I do not understand where you are going with this."

"Do you care for her or not?" The weapons specialist asks irritably.

"Yes," he says slowly, unsure of what is trying to be proven, "just like we all do."

Ironhide groans, venting heavily as he rubs a servo down his face plates. "But you care more than the rest of us."

"I wouldn't sa—" the medic's optics widen and a disgusted expression form on his face plates as he realises what his friend is insinuating. "No, Ironhide! Primus no!"

His companion grins at his reaction, apparently thinking that he is correct in his assumptions. Those thoughts are cut short when the elder mech smacks him hard round the helm.

"No," he begins, ever so slightly calming his temper. "No. I do not feel that way about her. She is my charge and my friend. Nothing more."

"Is that so?" Ironhide grunts, rubbing his helm sourly.

"Yes. I am concerned about her well being. I doubt she would feel that way towards anyone, Cybertronian or human," he huffs, digits twitching as he wishes to wield something more than empty air in his servo.

"Alright, alright," the weapons specialist grunts in humiliation. "At least tell her of your concerns; you haven't said a word to her yet. And I heard you were the first person she asked for when she woke."

Ratchet's helm snaps up at the information, processor audibly whirring as he tries to figure out why. Ironhide shifts a bit on his pedes, uncomfortable with the undying stare of the medic that seems to be staring straight at his spark, despite him not actually being aware of it.

"Ask her about it, don't just stare at me," he finally says, making Ratchet shake his helm to clear his thoughts.

"Forgive me, I was-thinking," the medic gazes briefly at the open hangar doors where Optimus disappeared with Toby.

"Clearly," Ironhide grunts, leaving the mech to his thoughts.

★☆★☆★☆★☆★

It was nearly supper time before the pair were seen again, both coming into the hangar to shelter from the oncoming rainstorm. Even then they did not separate, with Toby on Optimus' right shoulder and her wheelchair nowhere in sight, they stayed together, continuing in deep discussion. The air around them was tense and direct, and many times, when people looked, the young woman had small tears running down her face. None had dared to interrupt them, but several had tried to eavesdrop. Such an instance would end with the person being glared at by the duo, most finding that Toby's dark expression was enough to induce nightmares.

When dinner was actually laid out, the young woman had made a brief appearance in the mess hall, this time in her wheelchair. She stayed long enough to collect a plate of food and consume it, but disappeared again shortly after, her uncle claiming that she was retiring to her room early. Neither soldier nor Autobot saw her until the following morning.

An orange glow settles along the vast expanse of the horizon, the sun not quite having risen over it at the early hour. Sea-green waves lap at the sandy stretch of beach, interrupted only by small stones and a short concrete barrier. A young woman admires the view from the corner of the military air strip, the ocean breeze blowing her hair in a light and playful manner. Her fingers absently tap the rest of her permanent seat, her icy eyes distant as the wakening sun's blaze fights a nonexistent battle with the blue in her orbs.

A gentle sigh escapes her softly parted lips, the salty air silently countering her warm breath in the early morning light. Involuntary tears roll down her already red cheeks as she takes in the beauty of it all. A short strand of hair slides in front of her eye as she looks down at her lap, guilt and worthlessness filling her entire being.

She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be allowed. She's a pathetic waste of a person, unable to do anything useful to anyone. Why should she of all people, be allowed so much when she can only give so little? There's nothing she can do for the people here. She is worthless.

The ground trembles, announcing the arrival of an Autobot. The woman glances at the Cybertronian, only wishing to know who it is, but freezes when she finds a pair of familiar optics already locked on her.

"Why are you crying?"

She scowls slightly and touches her cheek with a shaking hand, eyes widening as she feels the wet skin. She didn't even realise she'd been crying so hard.

"Toby," the Autobot kneels, causing her to look away from his kind features, "tell me. Please."

Her lip trembles and her eyes brim with tears, so close to just bursting like a popped balloon. A gentle digit lifts her chin, bringing her to look him in the optics. Nothing but kindness and acceptance fill the medic's azure optics, only a slash of guilt hiding in the background. The sight alone is enough to break her forced control.

Without a word, Toby bursts into sobs, the digit still beneath her chin as her mental walls crumble and release the flood of emotions. Tears run down her face in unwavering streams, blurring her vision and dampening her shirt. Her throat closes itself as she gasps desperately for air, making her whimper pathetically. She grabs the digit with her hand, bringing it closer in a sort of hug, a source of comfort that reassures her that someone is there.

Then, hesitantly, almost awkwardly but far more caring, another digit joins the first, settling closer to her body. As the woman hugs him tighter, the mech scoops her up from the wheelchair with his other servo, bringing him close to his chassis. She buries her face in his armour, sobbing even harder as years of pent up thoughts and emotions come out through her tears.

A digit starts to trail down her back, rubbing soothing circles along her spine. Her shaking slows to a more reasonable tremble as she focuses on the warm metal embracing her. Carefully, she forces herself to breathe deeply, taking in the comforting scent of her guardian and the crisp, ocean air.

"Easy, Toby. It's alright," his chassis rumbles as he speaks softly.

"No-no it's not," the young woman mutters. "Nothing's alright."

The neon mech hushes her gently, shifting his position as he sits down. "Then tell me what's wrong."

She says nothing for a moment, pulling herself closer to him. "Me..."

Ratchet nearly reels back at her response, only restraining himself for her sake. He doesn't understand. Why—how could she be the issue? He may not have known her for long, but he knows that she's the most intelligent, brave, compassionate, and loving human he has come to know. The only one who holds a place above her is Optimus Prime himself.

"Why are you wrong, Toby?"

"Look at me," she whimpers. "I'm useless. I can't do anything. I'm just a worthless piece of scrap."

His optics widen and his intake opens in surprise and disbelief. He shakes his helm sternly. "Scrap is not worthless. You are not worthless. Think about what Ironhide can make from a piece of scrap. He can make almost anything. You are the same. You can do anything. If you're a piece of scrap, you're a lot more precious than you think."

"But I can't do anything!" She shouts suddenly, pounding on his chest plates with her fist. "I'm missing two limbs, Ratchet! Open your optics and see!"

"I am seeing! I see a perfectly capable young woman that has a whole life ahead of her," he lowers his voice to a gentler tone. "You can learn. You can live."

"But you can't fix me!" Ratchet flinches, feeling his spark tug at those words.

"Why would I fix what's not broken?" The young woman freezes, slowly looking up at the medic with bloodshot eyes. "You are not broken, Toby. Think of what you would call a violin; if you play it and it sounds wrong, what do you do? You tune it. It didn't need fixing, just an adjustment."

"Could you?" It comes out so quiet that the medic nearly misses it.

"Could I what?" He asks, confused by her question.

"Could you 'tune' me? Help me?"

He hums, having had one particular thought wedged in his processor since the 'incident' as he now calls it. "There is one way that I know."

"What is it?" She tilts her head in curiosity.

"To put it simply, it's cybernetic implantation."

She gives him a blank stare of disbelief. "You do realise that if it wasn't me you were talking to, they'd have no idea what you just said, right?"

"Yes, well, it is you that I'm talking to," the mech grumbles.

"So, I'd be a sort of cyborg?" Toby chuckles weakly at the thought.

"Not quite, but, yes."

The woman smiles, placing her forehead on his chassis. "That's going to be a lot of paperwork, isn't it?"

Her guardian smiles, changing his grip ever so slightly to get a better look at her. "I'm afraid it will be."

"Oh, and Ratchet?" He raises an optic brow at her drained form. "My mom and I say thank you."

★☆★☆★☆★☆★

That turned out a lot more emotional than planned...

Sorry?

Anyways, only one more chapter left! I can't believe this book is almost finished!

But don't worry, we've got a loooooong way to go before this series is done.

Also,
500 flipping reads?!
That's 200 more since I last updated a chapter!

Drag0nRider out!