*Cross posted from my 30 days of assorted oneshots book.

Original Prompt: Hidden Injury

Title: Snowy Surprises

Fandom: Transformers: Robots In Disguise (2015) (An AU)

Warnings: Explosions, burns, wounds.

Word Count: 3,936

Author's Note: This took too long, makes no sense, but oh well. It's something. Definitely didn't meet the prompt 100%, but again, oh well.

Synopsis: When ambushed unexpectedly on a blizzardy night, Y/N finds herself caught in the crossfire... only for her Guardian to pick her up a few moments too late...

----

Snowy Surprises

A cold wind bites against your cheeks as you hastily make your way down the sidewalk, hugging yourself in a vain attempt to keep yourself warm.

It hasn't snowed this bad in Crown City for quite some time, so much so that on this particular day, even your usual method of getting home, walking, was out of the question.

What usually was a rather... lengthy, but enjoyable, walk across the Crown River and down a few small roads back to your Uncle's scrapyard would've taken eons today.

But thankfully, you had a ride.

A certain sense of relief and calm settles upon you, your gaze settling on a familiar black and yellow muscle car as you sidestep around a group of people taking up the full width of the sidewalk, their fancy black trench coats covered in white snowflakes.

It's busy today.

It's always busy.

Offering a small smile as you near the vehicle, you gently grasp the driver's side door, opening it in one swift motion before settling inside, the atmosphere much warmer than where you'd previously come from.

"Hey, Bee," You greet warmly, the vehicle you're sitting in pulling away from the curb and continuing on, filing into traffic. "Thanks for the lift."

"It's no problem," His voice assures, the now comfortingly familiar insignia on the steering wheel in front of you illuminating with the tones. "After all, you know how I feel about you always walking home on your own. I was surprised when you called."

You can't help but chuckle, leaning back against the leather seat with a sigh.

"Yeah, I could get nabbed by Steeljaw and his pack, ran over by an Earth car... You've named off quite a few scenarios."

"I just can't help but have some concern, Y/N," Your best friend and Guardian explains, sighing heavily. "If something were to ever happen to you because our conflict spilled over into your-"

"Bumblebee," You scold, cutting his sentence short as your gaze wanders across the frozen Crown River, the snowy bridge road in front of you. "You can't always be at my side to protect me from every danger known to man. There's a bigger battle to be fought and you have to lead that charge. You can't be worrying about me all the time. You have a Team and yourself to concern yourself with."

Yet another sigh sounds from the Autobot, a certain sadness dropping into the sound.

"I know... I know. I just can't help but feel like something big is on its way... something that I just might not be ready for..."

A frown tugs at your lips at your Guardian's words, catching his meaning almost instantly.

It was no secret that ever since Optimus Prime, Bee's former mentor and leader, showed up to assist, the pair have been butting heads, so to speak.

Inwardly, you figured the pair had already resolved this, much thanks to Strongarm's prompting.

You'd even overheard the Prime and his former Scout talking late one night, a night that you'd been unable to sleep.

But yet...

"You've led just fine ever since you and your Team just popped into my life. You've just got to continue leading the way that's worked. Optimus' opinion, though valued, shouldn't be the deciding factor in all your decisions."

"I know. It's something we both have to work on. Hopefully a few minor things will come up and we can exercise our new roles then. Because the last thing we need right now is-"

Your Guardian's sentence is cut short as a sharp sounding tone cuts through your conversation, followed seconds later by a familiar voice.

"Fixit to Bumblebee, we have a situation that requires your immediate attention."

The Mini-Con's tone is laced with a certain urgency you haven't heard in all your time working alongside him on the evenings and weekends, helping out in the Command Center.

"We're about ten minutes out. What seems to be the problem, Fixit?"

A beat of silence settles on the other end, the almost eerie sounding static making a shiver of discomfort dance down your spine.

"I-I just picked up at least five Decepticon signals approaching the Scrapyard at an obnoxiously high speed!"

"But?"

"They're gone! Vanished without a trace!"

At this, you feel the sports car you're sitting in accelerate in a newfound urgency, slipping slightly against the snow on the road, accumulating far too quickly for your liking.

"Get Denny and Russel into the Command Center with you and get everyone else briefed on the situation. We'll be there ASAP," Bee orders, tone unwavering.

Though when the Comm line disconnects, you both collectively sigh.

"Steeljaw's smart. Using this snowstorm as cover," You chuckle with a shake of your head, grimacing inwardly.

Just the thought of that... creep, massive alien robot or not, gives you the jitters.

You've had far too many encounters with that 'Con for your liking - the last thing you'd expected for today would've been yet another one to add to the list.

"Almost too smart. He's becoming more acclimated to Earth than I figured he would've been able to in his limited time here."

"We still have the upper hand, though. Home court advantage."

The Autobot goes silent for a moment, seeming to be mulling over your words before sighing heavily, opening the Comm line up once more.

"Fixit, status report."

Nothing but static.

"Fixit, come in."

Nothing.

"Scrap!" You barely hear Bee mutter as you're pressed back into your seat by the sudden acceleration, the dazzling of headlights making you wince, though your eyes widen in alarm.

An alarm that quickly subsides as the truck you'd passed is left in your wake, the other pair of headlights passing on their own side of the road.

"Just because he didn't answer doesn't mean that anything's happened. Besides, I'm sure Optimus will assume command in the event that something has happened while you've been-"

Your sentence is cut short as you're once again pressed against your seat and your seatbelt as Bee rounds the corner towards the Scrapyard, losing traction against the slippery conditions before quickly regaining it, earning a huff of relief from your startled figure.

The familiar shelves of what others would refer to as junk are coming into your view as the distance decreases, the gate evidently shut and locked.

There's no indication of tire tracks against the freshly fallen snow, no smoke billowing into the now dark winter evening air...

As you've done numerous times before, the window at your side automatically rolls down, allowing the howling winter wind and snow to blow against your cheeks for a moment while you scan the small badge Fixit had outfitted for you humans.

Russel wasn't a huge fan of always getting locked out after coming home from a football game with his friends, so the ID had been the compromise.

Through the darkness, you watch through the now rolled up window as the lock light turns from red to green and the gate in front of you rolls aside, earning a relieved sigh from you.

Bee wordlessly rolls to a halt as you hastily gather your things and hop out of his alt mode, your boots crunching against the snow, your surroundings dimly illuminated by the lone light poles scattered around the main area of the Scrapyard.

The familiar sound of gears shifting and whirring emanates from your side, the much taller figure of your Guardian appearing in a few mere seconds.

"We'll make our way to the Command Center where everyone else should be waiting," He explains, tone low, as his Decepticon Hunter is activated, the blue hue of the weapon's blade providing a bit more light, his optics flicking down to where you stand. "If anything happens in between here and there, you-"

"Run," You finish for him, a plain statement, but one that you've heard a million times and understand with utmost certainty. "I've got that one practically muscle memorized."

And with a silent shared nod, you both continue deeper into the place you call home, your senses instantly heightening.

Everything is dampened by the falling snow and the whistling wind, even Bumblebee's steps are barely audible as he progresses onward, your own also becoming light as you stick to the shadows of the shelves, sidestepping around your Uncle's scattered memorabilia every now and then.

The snow is beginning to become almost a piercing sleet, the wind picking up its pace effectively making your visibility zero.

Thankfully, you know this place like the back of your hand - perks of living in one spot your entire life.

Though there's something lingering on the horizon... multiple things, actually.

And through your blurry, already limited gaze, your frozen eyes widen in surprise as realization gradually dawns on you.

Your Guardian must be thinking the same thing because in the blink of an eye, he's towering in front of you, the glow of his Decepticon Hunter much dimmer than a mere few moments ago.

"Make yourself known, trespasser," A familiarly firm female tone sounds from before you, accompanied by the sounds of numerous weapons being drawn meeting your ears.

The Autobot in front of you practically chuckles aloud in relief, his guard falling, along with his weapon.

"Don't shoot, Officer. I'm accompanied," Bee jokes as the figures finally emerge from the relentless snow, relieved looks adorning each and every one of their faceplates, their optics flicking to your no likely frozen looking figure.

Which, you are, though you muster up the last bit of movement you have left to wave feebly, gaze wandering over your Guardian's fellow comrades.

"She needs to get out of this cold and fast," Ratchet, who'd only recently stumbled across Bee's Team, remarks, gesturing to where you stand before turning to the black and yellow mech now at your side. "Denny and Russel are waiting in the Command Center like you ordered, Bumblebee. I would advise you take Y/N there immediately."

Wordlessly, you watch as Bee straightens slightly, almost seeming to ponder something, before assuming his alt mode, engine revving, driver's side door opening, beckoning you to hop in.

So, you do, taking one last glance at the Cybertronians in front of you, the wartime field medic's optics meeting your gaze with such sternness and concern, it inwardly makes you chuckle.

Bee had told you all about Ratchet that night after he'd joined back alongside members of his former team.

He'd explained to you everything from when he'd lost his vocoder to the final battle against Megatron... and the miracle that gave him back his voice.

"Ratch can certainly be a grouch, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care. In fact, usually the grumpier he is, the more he cares," Bumblebee mused, as your gaze had surveyed the heavens, your breath billowing in the cold, winter night air.

"I'll keep that in mind," Is all you'd replied as the pair of you shared a laugh, continuing to simply enjoy the peace and calm that had been in that moment.

But now, as you sit surrounded by the black and yellow interior you've gotten so familiarized with over the past few months, your Guardian's statement that night is finally beginning to make sense.

"Alright, this is your stop."

Tires squealing against the wet snow, you come to a halt, clambering out of the vehicle with rather stiff legs, inwardly grimacing at the cold once again biting at your skin.

The Command Center is right in front of you now, a welcome sight for sure.

All you can hope is that your Uncle got those ancient space heaters working... if not... blankets are gonna have to do.

Shifting gears and mechanical whirrs sound from your side as Bumblebee stoops to one knee, holding your gaze with those bright blue optics of his, a look of utmost seriousness settling on his features, though he makes no effort to speak.

So, you fill the silence, stepping closer and placing a hand against his leg plating, shivering at the coolness of the metal beneath your fingertips.

"I'll be fine, Bee," You urge, a reassuring grin tugging at the edge of your lips. "You go deal with those 'Cons that think they can just walk all over Earth as they please. I'll be here when you get back."

"I know, it's just..." Your Guardian's sentence trails off as his optics widen in sheer alarm and slight confusion, your own eyes following where he's looking.

A bright pink dot is hovering over your chest, drifting closer and closer to where you know right well your heart sits...

Panic begins to swell within you as time seems to slow, your feet somehow flying out from underneath you, your body lurching forward, a heat at your back.

You don't even hear yourself let out a scream of agony as you make contact with the icy ground, the breath from your lungs instantly escaping as you lie there writhing in pain, your vision tunneling, ears ringing.

But even in your disoriented and pained state, your first instinct is to roll onto your side, tunneled vision surveying the scene before you.

The familiar yellow and black paint scheme is barely visible through the sudden presence of thick, black smoke, rising and blowing freely in the bitter breeze.

The Command Center seems to still be in one piece, the blurry, smaller and more distant figures of your cousin and Uncle peering out over the ledge earning a strangled sigh of relief from your chapped, bloodied lips.

Those 'Con signals mustn't have went away... instead, they'd finally arrived at their destination:

The very Scrapyard you and your Cybertronian allies call home.

Flashes of purple streak by your hazy vision on all sides, explosions and rather panicked voices surrounding where you lay.

Or is that just one voice?

"Autobots. Can anyone hear me? Strongarm? Sideswipe? Optimus?" Bumblebee's tone sounds from somewhere above you, barely audible through the constant ringing in your ears. "Scrap! Comms are down."

You can feel the heat from the initial explosion that had sent the pair of you flying still at your back, another, rather foreign warmth tingling in your right shoulder...

Though, you think nothing of it, desperately attempting to blink away the rising grit and tunneling vision from your eyes as your Guardian nears your crumpled figure, lying helplessly in the snow.

You can practically feel your thoughts beginning to slow and speed up all at once.

It's almost as if the adrenaline is attempting to kick in, only to fail and then try again - the blizzard conditions not helping your abruptly weakened state.

"Bumble... Bee..." You somehow manage to croak out as he comes to a skittering halt at your side, optics widening in what almost appears to be horror.

The black and yellow mech almost appears as if he's going to say something, but once more, the lasers begin to fly, aimed directly at where you lie.

Wordlessly, your Guardian scoops you up from the rather dirty snowy ground and takes off running, the sound of shifting gears the only thing keeping your fading consciousness from slipping away.

"You'll be alright," He finally speaks, the dull glow of the Autobot insignia on the steering wheel now in front of you blurring in your muddled vision. "We'll get out of here and get you patched up in no time."

Patched up? Am I bleeding?

A vague awareness trickles through you at that thought, the searing, red hot burning in your shoulder, coupled with a steady throbbing in your head and pain everywhere else making your head spin.

The smoke filled night sky, occasional explosion and the relentless hellfire from above are all becoming too much to bear as your Guardian continues to drive, making quick work of leaving the Scrapyard behind.

"Bee..." You start, a warning slur falling into your tone, your vision and consciousness finally beginning to fail you, the burning in your shoulder becoming even more painful than before. "I..."

The interior around you begins to spin as your world fades to black, your head hitting the cool window with a thud...

And you're floating...

Completely unaware of the dire situation your Guardian had just managed to escape from... And the gnarly wound on your shoulder, gradually becoming worse with each passing second.

****

"She was hit with a stray shot - I should've just got her out of there quicker! I should've seen the missile, completely avoided the situation before it even happened!"

The voice outside your floating state is familiar, a distraught tone laced thick.

"There is nothing more you could have done, Bumblebee. Y/N is the subject of her own body, now."

A pause - the last voice was stern, yet comforting...

"I've tended to her wounds as best as I could with the help of Fixit and Denny. It is merely the subject of time as to when she'll regain consciousness again."

Another concerned tone...

"It wasn't your fault, Sir. We were ambushed. There was nothing more you could've done."

That voice sounds feminine and closer than before...

The never-ending, inky blackness is beginning to lighten, your senses rushing back to meet you...

With a strangled gasp for air and a startled cry of alarm, your eyes fly open, your new surroundings rendering completely unfamiliar.

Though as your hazy gaze clears to reveal a familiar set of blue optics peering eagerly down at you, relief floods your aching system.

"Bee..." You muster up the strength to whisper hoarsely, your bloodied, chapped lips pulling themselves into a thin lipped smile, a trembling hand reaching up towards him.

"You're alright," He assures, extending a servo down towards you, your outstretched hand grasping a digit lightly. "Ratchet, Fixit and your Uncle all helped to fix you up."

Wordlessly, you nod, passing a thankful glance to the white and orange Medic standing off to the side, his optics resting lightly on your bedridden figure.

The much taller figure of Optimus Prime is also at the War Medic's side, a soft smile tugging at his faceplate.

Whether at your awakened state or his former Scout, it's difficult for you to determine.

But as your gaze once more swivels to the features of your Guardian, you finally notice your surroundings.

And feel the dampness of the air around you.

Rocks litter the floor, the ceiling evidently also rock, the lingering stench of smoke and crackle of a fire somewhere behind you.

"Where are we?"

Your question is simple, but yet, the mech standing over you seems to have a difficult time formulating a reply, a certain sadness and guilt lingering in his gaze as it lowers from yours.

"We're in the caves where we caught that vampire 'Con, Nightstrike, all that while ago," Another voice pipes up from somewhere behind you, coming closer.

And seconds later, Sideswipe's cherry red figure is at Bumblebee's side, an unusually bothered and concerned look in his optics, though his expression carries no trace of what his gaze conveys.

"So the Scrapyard..."

Your tone trails off, a pang of uncertainty and sadness radiating through you.

"Scrapped," Bee confirms, sorrowed optics meeting your gaze, though a certain flame of determination begins to glow. "For now. We'll re-build once Steeljaw and his Pack are reigned in again."

Again.

A heavy sigh escapes you, quickly accompanied by a hiss of pain.

"Easy! You're quite bruised from your ordeal!" Ratchet warns as you struggle to pull yourself to a sitting position on the rather musty, ancient looking couch you're on, your shoulder burning in protest.

Another strangled cry of pain is pulled from your lips as you feel your right arm give way under your weight, your torso falling back against the cushions...

Only to meet something else entirely, the rather odd sensation of being lifted off the ground making your head swim.

Your Guardian had caught you and nudged you into an outstretched, open, servo, your quivering, blanketed figure curled up in his palm.

And now, all you can do is lie in his grasp silently, watching the walls of the cave pass you by as your Guardian leaves the others behind, the cold, winter wind once more dancing over your skin.

The mouth of the cave comes into your view, the once relentless snowstorm now replaced with lazy, fat, snowflakes drifting to the snow covered ground, the warm glow of the street lights of the nearby road bathing the world in a yellow-orange hue.

The blanket of silence between the pair of you stretches on as Bumblebee wordlessly takes a seat on a surprisingly flat boulder near the cave's entrance, slowly bringing your small figure up to his level.

"I'm sorry," Is all your Guardian speaks, a tone of such guilt falling into his voice, a frown tugs at your lips. "This should've never happened... if Ratchet hadn't been here... You could've very well been..."

His voice trails off, leaving a comfortable beat of silence as the pair of you sit there for a moment, accompanied merely by the distant chatter of the others deeper in the cave and the odd whistle of the winter wind, blowing the snowflakes every-which way.

"But I'm not," You assure, a soft grin tugging at your lips. "Like I said before, you can't protect me from everything, Bee. You can only do so much."

"I know," He sighs heavily, though a frown falls across his faceplate, gaze falling from yours. "Though I should've seen it coming. I should've done something sooner. And when it happened, I should've noticed your shoulder wound quicker - gotten you back here quicker..."

Another beat of silence, though your mind is slow to comprehend, a question formulating in the back of your thoughts.

"How bad is it?"

Inwardly, you already know the answer.

If Ratchet, an experienced Medic, was needed, it probably wasn't too pretty.

"You were hit with a stray shot from one of the 'Con's blasters. Thankfully it just grazed your skin and burned, rather than hitting you dead on... But still... I don't like humans being exposed to Energon so closely... I've seen what forms of it can do to the human body..." Bee stops, sighing with a shake of his head. "But Ratch says you'll be fine, just might take a few days of laying low to recover."

All you can do is nod, your bandaged shoulder throbbing slightly as a yawn escapes you, quickly accompanied by a shiver.

"So what now?" You muse aloud, fatigue settling in, your body nestling deeper under the blanket draped over you.

"For now, you need to rest," Comes the reply, a gentle, compassionate smile being passed down to you. "Everything else can wait. All that matters is that we're all in one piece, even if some of us needed some repairs."

A soft "yeah," is all you can muster up as you feel your eyes begin to grow heavy once more, the walls of the cave passing you by, the cold being replaced by a warmth and a comforting chatter.

And as you feel yourself being laid back down on the couch someone has managed to salvage from who knows where, a sigh of contentment falls from your lips.

"Thank you, Bee. For everything," You rasp, blinking back the rising fatigued haze from your eyes. "Oh, and you were right."

"About what?"

"Ratchet. He definitely does care more than he ever lets on."

And with one last shared chuckle, you allow yourself to snuggle deeper into the cushions beneath you, knowing that even in your weakened, helpless state...

You're safe.

You always have been and always will be.

As long as you've got Bumblebee.

(he he... rhyme)