A Fallen Star

Epilogue

*Eep Eep Eep*

What is that? Was it her alarm clock? It was never that steady or annoying. It couldn't be six, yet, could it? She couldn't hear the sounds that usually came with sleeping in the barracks. No people running around to get dressed, no officers shouting out orders. Was she at home? No, her home alarm didn't sound like that and she couldn't hear her father downstairs in the kitchen making breakfast.

She took a deep breath. Everything smelled sterile. Had someone dumbed a bottle of disinfectant over...wherever she was. She moved her limbs; sheets. Was she in a bed? Suddenly a wave of nauseating pain hit her, and she knew she had groaned.

"Lee?"

A voice? Who's? It seemed familiar, but she couldn't place were. Whatever it was, she was going to answer it.

"Beckman? Is that you? Can you go get Dotty? And what did you make me drink last night?" Nya said as she opened her eyes. She wasn't at base or home, but at a hospital.

She looked around confused until her eyes were caught on a dark-skinned man wearing a grey suit, who was chuckling to himself.

"They said you'd be a little loopy when you woke up, but I promise you I didn't make you drink anything. How you feeling soldier?" he spoke.

"Who are you again? I think I know you, but I'm not sure," She said, still dazed.

He chuckled again, "Oh, you know me. We've met before."

"How?"

"My name is Special Agent William Fowler. You and I had a bit of a disagreement over a certain F-16 fighter jet."

"That sounds like me. William Fowler? Fowler..." it all suddenly drifted back to her. The battle. The aliens. The explosion. Starscream. Oh, lord! Did he make it?!

"What happened to-Agh!" She suddenly tried to sit up only be hit with a fresh new whirlwind of pain. She felt back groaning, pulling her arms up to touch her chest, only to realized that her left one was in a sling and cast.

"Whoa, easy soldier!" Fowler said as he rushed closer to her bed, "You only just woken up don't push yourself."

She groaned, "How long have I been out?"

"Two weeks. You managed to scare us more than once, with how many times you kicked that bucket and then replaced the bucket."

"Oh, that bad, huh?"

Fowler nodded.

"How's Starscream?"

"Of course, you'd ask about him," Fowler sighed, "I think he cares about you more then he lets on. He's been a model prisoner so far. Complying with everything that Prime or Ratchet asks of him. Aside from his nightmares he's been a real quiet con actually."

"Then something's wrong with him. He's usually a chatter box. Have you told him about my condition? It might calm him down."

"I'm afraid not. I only told the bots that you made it out of surgery. Anything else is risking your patient privacy."

"You can tell them, I don't mind," she sighed and winced, "How bad is it? And please don't beat around the bush."

Fowler sighed, "You broke your left forearm, shattered your right foot and ankle..."