Once Ratchet removed the bandage, he advised that she take it easy. In addition to avoiding sudden movements, she needed to stay away from stress and excitement. After all, it was either fear or tension that had burst the optic in the first place. The instructions were rather simple, so Verdant nodded along to them thoughtlessly before leaving the med-bay.
In the main room of the base, everyone's mood had lifted again. Ultra Magnus was out on patrol with Smokescreen, probably wanting to impart some knowledge on the newbie, and Optimus was working at the monitor. Arcee was talking to Raf and Bumblebee, but she looked very confused.
Wheeljack was back and listening to some crazy story Miko was telling him. Jack rolled his eyes from where he was sitting next to her.
The wrecker glanced over at her and Verdant instantly avoided his gaze, but she didn't miss the smirk tugging at the edge of his derma.
Last night was... nice. Considering the fragile state of her optic, neither of them went very far. It had been a simply, gentle kiss. Nothing more.
He'd left after that, telling her to get some rest, and Verdant hadn't objected.
But the moment was now over and distant, and Verdant couldn't help but internally panic. What would Ultra Magnus think? Ratchet told her to avoid stress, so Verdant formulated a plan to avoid the fact that Wheeljack existed. At least for now.
"Your left optic is looking shinier!" Wheeljack called out across the room.
He wasn't helping.
"Wheeljack, have I ever told you how strange you are?" Arcee asked.
Verdant ignored them and sat down at the monitor.
"How are you this morning?" Optimus asked politely.
"I'm doing well, sir," Verdant nodded. "And you?"
"Wondering why you haven't dropped the 'sir' yet, but otherwise rather content," Optimus replied. "It is a relief to have our energon storage full for the first time."
She smiled. "I'm glad to hear that."
"Did Wheeljack visit you and apologize?" Optimus asked. "He seems happier."
"Uh," Verdant's fans kicked on. "Yes. He did."
"It went well?"
"You could say that," Verdant laughed nervously and tried to zone in on the screen. "What are you working on?"
Optimus frowned. "We accessed the Hall of Archives' database after liberating a copy from the Decepticons some time ago. The goal was to decrypt his personal messages and find relics he sent to Earth. All of them have been located by now, but I am trying to decode the rest of the database so that it can be used by the public after the war."
Verdant tilted her helm. "Why didn't you ask me to help out?"
"That would require me to teach you Alpha Trion's code language, which would be a violation of my agreement with him," Optimus explained. "The only other bot who knows it, Soundwave, acquired methods of decrypting it after... Megatron manipulated me in a moment of vulnerability. It did not end well."
She nodded. "If you believe that is best."
A small voice in the back of her processor was annoyed by his explanation. She wasn't a Decepticon, and she certainly wasn't Soundwave. It isn't as if she'd use the decryption against him.
But, alas, the pains of respecting someone else's irrational fears would remain in play for the remainder of her onlining.
Verdant released her tentacles and clamped them down onto the other computer.
"What are you working on?" Optimus asked.
"Not work," Verdant replied. "Just downloading the information from here to my archives. Some of it could come in handy in the future."
Optimus nodded.
Verdant delved into the mainframe and started the process, but a light tap on her shoulder pulled her attention away.
"I made this for you," Ratchet told her, holding out a weird looking stand with a curved top.
Verdant tilted her helm. "Ah, what is it?"
Ratchet placed it on the desk. "A chinrest so you don't slam your face into the table everytime you do the unconscious thing."
"Going gray?"
"Whatever it's called," Ratchet huffed. "I don't want you busting your optic open again, so we're taking this precaution."
Verdant smiled. "Thank you."
He grunted in response and walked off.
"You damaged your optic?" Optimus questioned.
"It's a long story," Verdant sighed. "Nothing of much importance."
He nodded and returned to his work. Verdant followed his example and her optics flashed white as she began downloading the data. It wasn't necessary to go gray for such a simple task on an unguarded server, so she fiddled with the stand as the data transfer commenced.
Recent events pasted through her mind as she waited. Or, more specifically, recent nightmares.
"The past never leaves you."
Verdant shook her helm softly and set the chinrest down, frowning at the table. Something ominous picked at the edges of her processor, trying to tell her something important, but she couldn't quite reach it.
Or maybe she didn't want to.
Verdant knew just as well as anyone else that the horrors of the war could never be forgotten by those who experienced them. Her city had been demolished around her and she'd barely managed to avoid termination. She was lucky where most other mecha were not.
It was terrible, and it was tragic, but Verdant refused to dwell on it. She remembered the first time she confided in Ultra Magnus, in the early moments of their time together, and the commander advised her to leave it in the past. Nothing good would come from remembering the traumas that awoke us.
Somtimes she doubted that wisdom. Perhaps there was something to be learned, but did it truly matter now? After all the casualties? Verdant knew that Ultra Magnus was her commander and the Decepticons were her enemies. As long as those two factors remained in play, there would be a clear path to walk on.
Maybe Wheeljack had been right about her. It was easier to follow orders and let others tell you how to see the world—to build the path for you. But just because it was easier didn't make it wrong. She knew Ultra Magnus better than anyone else and if there was anything she was certain of, it was that his spark was good. He wanted to stop the Decepticons and help the Autobots, and he wanted to do it in a lawful fashion. He never crossed the moral line. That meant she could trust him.
He had every right to order her around and she a duty to be his faithful soldier.
It was more than just duty, really. Verdant respected him on a personal level. There was an informal term for their highly formal relationship, but she truely considered Ultra Magnus her friend.
So, perhaps maybe it was easy to follow orders, but it was also right to do so. And she certainly wasn't ignoring any harsh truths about her commander. Yes, he was strict in a way that put off many others, his cultural sensitivity was incredibly insensitive, and his means of living were more bleak than high-friction sheet metal. But he was still a good bot with good intentions.
Verdant was less genuine than him. Like Wheeljack pointed out in the memory purge, she was still angry about the Decepticons bombing her home and those who lived there. It was the reason she felt no guilt when planning purely strategic assaults on their bases. Some might have called her the heartless one. She certainly hadn't held back her attacks for any moral obligations. She hated them.
She wanted to see them fall.
There was a malfunction in her ethics that could be concealed by the fog of war and blamed on the chain of command. Her thoughts weren't consciously occupied by revenge, but the desire was still there.
Verdant shook her helm. Time and time again over the course of the years, she had pushed down her own feelings when they didn't fall in line with the wishes of Ultra Magnus. His lawful attitude was what kept her in check. So whatever fantasies were dancing around in her subconscious, she could remain confident that Ultra Magnus would never allow them to come to fruition.
There was just one problem with that.
"You annoy me with your obedience, but I like you. I like you a lot, actually."
Wheeljack.
He was the embodiment of everything she hated in herself. He was openly rageful, openly rebellious, and his hatred for the Decepticons burned for revenge. But she didn't hate when he did it. Not entirely.
It was who he was. He was open about his thoughts and opinions, and he wasn't afraid of retribution. Wheeljack had more qualities than the ones that drove her up a wall. Just as easily as he could plunge his fist into a wall, Wheeljack could carefully tend to an injury. Just as fast as he would shoot an enemy, Wheeljack would jump into the fire for his friends.
Charming wasn't the right word for him. Neither was lovable, or even tolerable. Verdant could only see one word for the wrecker who tangled a hook in her spark.
But she wasn't ready to say it.