These Paths We Tread (Autobot x OC)

XLVII. Family

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She can feel him. She can feel his taint. It is suffocating her—drowning her in its torrent. She can feel it invading her body; seeping through the skin; through the pores to the blood. She feels it spiraling through her, corroding her from the inside out. She feels it burrow into her mind, disfiguring her thoughts and memories; feels it changing her into something else. She tries to scream, but has no lungs, no voice to do so. She wants to flee, but her limbs are gone, devoured by the darkness. She looks for light, but sees none. She only feels Him and hears His laughter—His sickening words, whispering like a deadly siren in her ears, calling her, lulling her.

She looks and suddenly she can see, but it is not light or sanctuary she finds—only despair. The Fallen. He is there. His optics staring. The deep, bloodied red optics gazing at her; claiming her. She feels His hand reach out; feels the claws brush against her skin, His words beckoning her closer. She feels His hold tighten on her mind and she knows she is falling deeper. Soon she will be gone.

She struggles once more. She does not want to die. She does not want to become part of Him—to become part of the darkness. It frightens her. She is scared. She doesn't know what to do. She cries out for help, though her voice is still gone. She prays for a savior—for someone to find her in this darkness. He reaches for her for one final time; she tries to scream again.

Then—a light.

A razing beam that sears the Fallen's arm, and forces Him back. He snarls and curses and raves and spits, but the light does not whither. It is a stalwart wall against the darkness, and expands with each passing moment. She feels the darkness fading; can feel her body becoming her own again. She soon sees her fingers, and feet, and then her arms and legs. She can move them, and does—she reaches for the light. It is warm and soft and welcoming. It is familiar to her, she realizes, and she lets it embrace her. She closes her eyes and can hear a voice. It is soft and kind and loving, and beckoning her forth from the darkness. She clings fast and listens, letting it rip away the last of the Fallen's bonds.  

She is free and she ascends.

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-O-

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Catherine's eyes opened and then closed quickly, the light painfully bright. She went about opening them again, slowly this time, and soon she was able to see the gray ceiling high above her. There was a pressure around her waist, and when she looked down she found silver metal, but instead of a cool surface it was warm. It held her just right, too—tight enough to keep her close and safe, yet was comfortable; protective. There was metal behind her, too, and even more came from it. That warmth was greater than in the grip on her body, and she turned toward it instinctively. She relaxed some, and stared up at the ceiling again, her brain beginning to understand something very important.

With a sigh she closed her eyes, letting it soak in. It faltered, however, as the darkness beneath her eyelids turned pitch black, save for the two red orbs that stared back. Her gasp caught in her throat as her eyes flashed open once more. However, it was not the gray, flat ceiling that lay above her; it was a string of dark, alien metal and pipes thrumming with blue Energon. Within them was a darker form whose body was lit with red light and red eyes which burned deep into her. Panic took hold as she squirmed, but the eyes held her fast so she tried to scream.

Catherine.

The eyes, the red, the walls—everything vanished. The gray ceiling was back, and with it a wave of warmth that blanketed her body and filled it. The panic ceased and she relaxed again, closing her eyes to lean towards the source and the voice. She felt the metal holding her gently tighten a little and pull her closer. She could hear the voice from before reverberate through her mind, though it did not speak any true words. It was more of a presence, one which calmed and soothed her. It subdued any darkness, creating a barrier that kept her anchored her to the world. This was the real world. Wasn't? No—yes. It was. Maybe.