AN: Gizmo, Cyberwave, Fang and Techno all belong to me. Requiem and Silverstreak belong to LadyLucis. Tracks and the whole Transformers concept belong to HasTak.

Warning: HOLY SHIZ ANGST.

Gizmo swished the energon in her glass, looking at the pink liquid with a solemn expression. She was thinking. Of lost friends, lost loves, lost students. Too much loss. She sighed, glancing at herself. He paint had faded to a dull orange, a red stripe that was just as faded running down each of her sides. Well abused digits held the cube tightly. She sighed, orange optics sad and un-focused.

Cr-ack! Bang! Fwoom.

The gunfire surrounded them. Gizmo was knelt over Fang, trying to patch him up. Fang, Primus, Fang. One of her old students, back from when she taught Cybertron History. Early on in the war, in the Decepticon Academy. Before it was finalized that everyone in that school would be forced to join in the war. Back when Fang was just a troublemaking senior and Gizmo was a young teacher.

"Fang! Stay with me! For the love of Primus, you better listen to me this time!" Gizmo was almost crying, hands not wanting to work properly as she tried to repair the damaged chest plating. But the pale glow of the mech's spark was fading so fast, becoming so small. "Fang, please!" Her voice no longer carried the angry authority of a teacher. Now her tone was more like that of a grieving creator. Gizmo felt the femme who was watching over her as she worked rest a hand on her shoulder.

"Gizmo, please, he's gone." The green and silver femme had realized it before Gizmo allowed it to slap her in her face. Gizmo watched her student fade. Her spark broke then, and she squeezed her optics shut. The orange femme grabbed her vocal processor, ripping it from her own throat. The green femme made a quiet, alarmed sound. //I never meant to fail him this way.// Was all the orange teacher-turned-medic could say as she rose to her feet, giving the white crosses, symbolizing her status as medic, an angry glance. Together the two femmes left the silver body behind, the green one muttering an ancient blessing. They were probably the only ones who bothered to do that anymore.

"Gizmo? Long time no see." The voice was familiar, and pulled Gizmo from her reverie. The femme looked up to see a silver mech approaching. This one was larger than the one she'd just been daydreaming about. He'd always been better armed as well. He had always been better for war.

"Hello Requiem. I hope you and your family are doing well." Gizmo answered. She knew the mech well enough. Much of her time with the Decepticon Earth troops had been with the silver espionage agent. Currently though, the silver mech was the commander of the Decepticon forces, and one of the first to sign the peace treaty that ended the Great War.

"We are, thank you." The answer did not surprise Gizmo in the slightest. Requiem was in a very high position of power. He had been since the end of the war. The system of politics hadn't changed much on Cybertron. It had been eerie, returning to Cybertron to re-build it. But now, years later, Gizmo was rusting away and watching old comrades and enemies make peace and re-build Cybertron better than ever. "What have you been up to?" Requiem once again brought her to the present.

"I'm a teacher now." Gizmo replied. She'd returned to the job after the war, happy to be back in a classroom. Education was a focus for the younglings who'd gone without it in the heat of war. Gizmo was a strict teacher, but went about her duties with an almost motherly care. She thought it was a teacher's duty to nurture the minds of their students. So, while keeping her class disciplined, she was also careful to explain things, and would always stay after class to help a student in need. Not that Requiem would know that, not being one of her students. Although, something did come to mind. Or, rather, someone had poked forward. "Have you found yourself a new femme?" Gizmo asked. It was a touchy question, unfortunately...

Gizmo could see Cyberwave in the distance. The green sniper was awfully obvious in the desert. Which was probably why the green femme, who had so often kept Gizmo safe as she healed others, was now fighting hand to hand. That style of fighting was a weak point for the Decepticon though.

The battle was harsh, the hot Earthen sun beating down on the fighting bots and cons, near boiling the energon running through their cables. Gizmo had dealt with many a heat related problem today. Gizmo looked around for more injured, though she had to be careful. There was no one guarding her back today, and ripping out her vocal processor had very quickly turned out to be a bad mistake.

Gizmo could see both Autobot and Decepticon casualties were growing. And that's when she heard a scream that made her turn, horror filling her. Cyberwave was staggering back, hand lifted to her chest. Her arm was out, weapon in hand as she fired. Gizmo barely even noticed she was running for Cyberwave. She felt a shot ricochet off of her arm. Tearing across the battlefield was not the brightest thing Gizmo had ever done. But she was horrified. She soon found herself near Cyberwave, kneeling next to the femme. Gizmo could already tell there was nothing she could do. It was a miracle that Cyberwave was still alive, actually.

//'Wave... I... I...// Tears were flooding the medic's eyes as she hugged the femme a little. Cyberwave gave her a small smile in turn. Gizmo wanted to scream. Cyberwave was a dear friend, who was killed by some that stupid, egotistical, Tracks.

"Nothing you could've done Gizzy. Maybe you could take my vocal processor. I sure as pit don't need it..." Cyberwave's voice was quiet, and the green femme began coughing violently. Gizmo could do nothing as the femme coughed pink energon on herself. One of Cyberwave's coughs was too much. The green femme, still clutching her chest wound with one hand, fell to the side. The color faded from her armor, and Gizmo let out an anguished cry, turning to rip the energon lines from Tracks' throat . But Requiem had appeared, and was beating the slag out of the Autobot criminal.

"No, I haven't. I'd... Prefer not to anyway. What about you?" Requiem replied. Gizmo smiled, quietly pleased with his loyalty to the dead femme. A good mech was something Requiem had always been.

"I'm mated to energon cubes and toasts." Gizmo shook her head sadly, spark aching at the mere thought of love. Love hurt too much. The war hat taught her that. "And my job, of course." Gizmo closed her optics, taking a sip. "Want a cube, Rekkie? My treat." Gizmo smirked slightly at this. Rekkie smiled back.

"Sure, why not." Requiem said. Gizmo signaled to the 'bot tending the bar, and soon enough both she and Requiem had a fresh cube in front of them. But Rekkie's expression turned to a bit sad once more as he asked, "So when did you decide to go for it?" Gizmo winced, knowing precisely what the silver mech meant.

Gizmo looked sadly at the vocal processor of her passed friend. She'd been having staring contests with it ever since she pulled it from her subspace compartment, months before. //Do you really want me to have it, Cyberwave?// Gizmo wondered as a loud as she could, although no one would hear her voice on the comm. No one was on the other end to listen. But Gizmo could swear she felt two gentle servos push her toward the device. //If you insist...// Gizmo added, a sad smile forming on her faceplates as she lifted up the vocal processor.

Soon enough, she had managed to connect the device. "Testing..." She muttered, Cyberwave's voice coming from her own throat. It shocked her. She adjusted the settings, recovering her own voice soon enough. "Thanks 'Wave, but sounding like you would creep me out." Gizmo whispered to the empty air around her. And she could have sworn she heard Cyberwave quietly laughing.

"It was a little while after you were put in command of the Decepticons." Gizmo answered. Their conversation dissolved into lesser topics, mostly politics. What was going on in the Autobot party, How Soundwave and the cassettes were doing, what was going on with the war memorial...

Almost three years later, Gizmo was leading her class toward a memorial. "The Great war was a devastating conflict. It was the worst war in our race's history. Although some good did come of it. I met some of the greatest mechs and femmes to ever live. Some say that Decepticons were menaces, pure evil. Others say that it was all the Autobots fault, and that they should have been punished." With this, Gizmo turned to face her class. "I believe that this was a war caused by ignorance. That is why you are receiving an education, to prevent another tragedy like this. The names on this memorial show the names of the heroes and villains of this war." Gizmo said, she watched as her class roamed around the memorial, and after a while, she called them back over so she could answer their questions.

"Who was Fang?" A bright pink femme asked Gizmo, Red eyes wide and curious.

"Fang? He was a Decepticon intel agent. He was young though, too young when he died." Gizmo said. "Techno?" Gizmo called on another student.

"Who was Cyberwave?" The blue male asked, bright blue optics glowing. They almost hurt her. He screamed Autobot and innocence. So unlike his father when it came to image though.

"She was a Sniper, also in the Decepticon army. She was killed by your father, Tracks, actually." The youngling seemed to notice the sadness on the teacher's face as she said this.

"What role did you play in the war, Miss Gizmo?" Silverstreak, a petite seeker, and relative to Rekkie, questioned. Gizmo knew that the little femme probably knew damn well.

"I was the Decepticon medic. I worked with Cyberwave, Requiem, and Fang most often though. For a while it was just us on Earth. But, I survived the war, and I'm here to teach you about those who didn't. Now, before you ask anymore questions about the mechs and femmes not in your textbook, I want you to realize something. All of them were good Cybertronians, who were fighting for what they knew was right." Gizmo told her class. All of her students nodded in understanding. The group of younglings was rewarded with a smile from the medic-turned-teacher. "So, do we have any more meaningful questions?" Gizmo asked. And gosh, did they...