"I don't get it," she said as the pinecone slipped past her fingertips to sail headlong through the air, before disappearing into the ravine below.

"Hmmm?"

He looked up at her, momentarily distracted from the long blade of grass he'd been running absently through his fingers. It was a subconscious habit of hers to do so, and somewhere over their years together, it had become his as well.

She launched another pinecone into the ravine, before turning to look at him.

"I just don't get it."

"Get what?"

"People."

"Oh, that narrows it down considerably," he rolled his optics and shook his helm at her.

"No. I mean it. I just don't understand people."

He took a long last look at the bit of green in his hand before giving in completely.

"OK. What happened this time?"

He leaned back and stretched out across the field, propping his frame on his elbows. He was grateful for the coolness of the grass against his back – he had a feeling they would be there a while.

"Well…"

Yup. A long while.

He released a soft hiss from his vents and sank down on his hydraulics. Tipping his helm back, he cast his gaze upward. Overhead, the sky was a crisp blue and large, fluffy clouds rolled across it like tumbleweeds; their underbellies a disheartening shade of gray.

He redirected his focus, and found she had turned to face him. Her brow furrowed; her eyes distant and tuned in elsewhere. He wasn't surprised to see she'd plucked a handful of stems and was dissecting them on autopilot.

"Go on," he motioned with the tips of his gunmetal digits.

She drew in a long, deep breath and held it, before finally expelling it harshly. The clouds above grew darker.

"Well."

She fidgeted and tore at the grass in her hands. Her bare toes wiggled in and out of the soft earth. Her hair swayed in the breeze.

"Well…?"

"Well, what's wrong with people? I mean why are they pointlessly cruel to each other?" She knitted her brows tighter together and continued to fidget.

Oh, yes. A very, very, very long time indeed.

"Again, could you maybe narrow it down a bit?"

He began to wonder if Ratchet would be available on such short notice to stop an impending processor short. And more so, if he'd be willing to. He had, after all, opened the door to her. He knew from experience what could happen when those doors swung wide – a fact Ratchet would no doubt enjoy pointing out to him; over and over.

"People are cruel and mean and just plain vile to each other."

"Sadly."

He had noticed this in his time with her. Although both species could be unkind to each other, hers seemed to take great delight in it. The thought sent a shiver through his systems.

"I don't understand why. Why do they have to be cruel to one another? What purpose does it serve? I mean, it's not a contest, but the lengths they go to, you'd think it was."

It was his turn to furrow his brow.

"If you're asking for a reas…"

"No. No. No. I'm not looking for a reason. Ok. Maybe I am. But. I guess what I'm looking for is understanding. You know?"

He couldn't help but notice she was fidgeting. Her steps had spun in as many circles as her words, and she shifted from one foot to the other when she stood still. Tiny bits of roughly shredded foliage fell from her hands with increasing frequency. His espionage skills weren't necessary to see that she was clearly disturbed by her current train of thought.

"Understanding."

"Yeah. Like why is it so wrong to just be nice anymore? You know the whole 'Commit Random Acts of Kindness'? It isn't just a bumper sticker, ya know?"

He couldn't help but want to roll over, glance at his skidplating and make a comment about sticking his bumper, but he doubted she'd see the humor in it. Instead, he chose the more intellectual response.

"What makes you think people don't know how to be nice anymore?"

Her head snapped up, and her eyes, as sharp and as focused as lasers, zeroed in on him instantly.

"You've been out there. You tell me."

He had indeed seen it. One didn't have to put out any effort to find it. It would find you. It screamed from the news broadcasts. It grabbed for your attention on the internet. There were blogs, and websites, and video uploads, and instant messages galore dedicated to it. Some, if not most bragged about how they had inflicted pain on another. He'd seen no remorse in any of the feeds he'd scanned.

"This is your rant, not mine. You tell me."

She snorted at him before continuing.

"Well. Today, for instance. I saw the cutest, sweetest, little boy at the park. He was, I dunno, maybe 7 or 8, and he had the brightest, warmest, happiest smile. The light just radiated from him."

"He sounds nice," he relished the kick up in her mood. He enjoyed the brief flare of light from her that must have rivaled the child's. "So how does that lead you to believe that people don't know how to be nice anymore? This child certainly sounds full of nice."

She scrunched her face up at her own thoughts before ripping another handful of reeds from the field to desiccate. She closed her eyes and drew a deep, pained breath.

"It wasn't that. He was nice. It was what happened to him that wasn't."

He sat upright; worry for the child filling his spark. The blue sky had given way to more clouds. It was now nearly choked with their ever deepening gray, with only the occasional, brave ray of light fighting to penetrate it.

"What happened to him?"

"This little boy – this little living ray of sunshine – I had noticed him walking in the park. Just as happy as could be, ya know? Kinda hard to miss something so pure, so innocent. Anyway, he was just walking along, almost dancing. He was happy. You could tell he was happy. And when I saw him, it made me smile. I couldn't help it. He was just so happy and carefree and, and just... wonderful."

"That's a good thing."

"Yeah, it is. Well. So, I watched him for a bit. He was walking along and this family was coming up from the opposite direction – parents and a little boy about his age."

She paused and the distant look returned to her eyes. Only this time he knew where she was – she was back in the park, watching that little boy. Sadness washed over her features; pooling in her dark eyes. The corners of her mouth pulled down. She'd sucked in her lip and had it firmly, almost painfully, grasped between her teeth.

"He was sooo full of smiles…" her words trailed off to fade away in the gathering storm.

"What happened to him?" he asked again. His spark filled with worry and dread for a child he'd never even seen.

"He saw the other little boy."

Green confetti fell from her hands.

"And…?"

Her pacing intensified.

"And … he went up to them and said 'Hi' to the other boy. He was waving too."

She ripped another handful of grass from the field, as she turned on her heel.

"That was nice of him."

"It was. It was very nice. At least, I thought so."

"It wasn't a nice thing?"

"Apparently, that family didn't think so. The mother turned her nose up at the boy and scowled without ever looking at him. The father pretended he wasn't even there. And the other boy just shot this cold, hateful glare at him."

"Oh…"

Suddenly, he felt her distress. He understood it. He hadn't been there to see the events unfold, but he could see them all too clearly now.

"Yeah. The little boy, that sweet, sweet little boy, seemed not to notice. He just smiled and, and asked if the other boy wanted to play. He even asked the boy's parents if he could."

"He sounds very well mannered."

She nodded.

"He was smiling, and warm, and inviting, but they snubbed him."

"They…?" He asked; his optics wide and searching.

She nodded again, solemnly this time; her eyes cast down at the ground.

"The mother told the boy that she didn't want her son playing 'with someone like him'."

"'Someone like him'? What was that supposed to mean?"

She tore at the blades in her hand with a renewed ferocity.

"'Someone like him'," she repeated. "The boy clearly didn't know them. He tried to ask the other boy his name. How could that woman possibly know anything about him? Know what he was 'LIKE'? She didn't even know his name."

He watched as her lips pursed, and frowned; evidence of the emotions swelling and surging within.

"I mean… FRAG!"

He jumped with the sudden intensity of her words, and looked up to see her eyes dark and sharp.

"Would have killed them to smile? Would it have killed them to just say 'Hi' in return? Seriously? They could have just said, 'I'm sorry he can't play right now. Maybe some other time?' NO! They went out of their way to hurt an innocent child! Grown adults, with a child of their own, did this! And not with guns or knives or fists or bombs! They did it with words! WORDS...!"

He heard the hitch in her angry breath, and winced.

"War isn't the only thing that's unhealthy for children and other living things! It's just the end result! This apathy and unbridled hatred and cruelty … it … it …"

Her eyes were on the verge of spilling over. Her body trembled. She stopped shredding the grass, and let the remains flutter to the ground. A split second later, she unceremoniously followed suit.

"What did the boy do? What happened to him?" his words softly spoken.

She sniffled and wiped her cheek.

"He was hurt. His beautiful, bright smile disappeared."

He shuttered his optics; the pain pierced his spark and began to rend it apart.

"I just wanted to go over to him. Hug him. Talk to him. Whatever. I just didn't want to let that light die – that warmth and joy."

"Why didn't you?" he whispered.

"I … "she stammered, choking on the words. A pained smile flashed across her lips. "I didn't have to."

He tipped his head to the side. The far-off, distant stare had returned and consumed her glassy eyes.

"Why's that?"

The grimace-like smile flashed again.

"Cos," she sniffled. "He turned and saw me looking. He smiled and waved at me. The light in his smile had faded, but it was still there. "

"And you…"

The ends of her lips curled up, and held their position.

"I smiled and waved back at him."

He felt relief in his spark, as some of the ache faded.

"He smiled at me again. It was stronger - the light in it. It wasn't as brilliant as it had been before, but at least it wasn't dead. Something that precious should never be allowed to die."

He couldn't agree more.

He reached out and pulled her to him; wrapping her firmly in his embrace. She sniffled lightly against his chest, and he buried his nose in her hair; gently nudging her.

"I guess I just don't understand what point such blatant cruelty serves. I don't get why people have to be so bitter and spiteful toward each other. It just doesn't make any sense, ya know? It takes more effort to harm than it does to care, and it doesn't make anything better. It just makes the world a colder, darker place."

He nodded silently and pressed her tighter to him; protecting her. If he could, he would shield her from ever feeling pain. After all, wasn't that a guardian's job … to guard? To protect?

He reflected on just how true her simple statement was, and thought of his homeworld. It had once teemed with life like this one; its many magnificent cities filled with shining optics and smiling faces. It had once held the promise of a limitless and thriving future. His memories of it were faint and fleeting, not for the great breadth of time that had passed since he had last seen it, but for his age. He, too, had been young, too young, when his world was literally ripped apart by apathy, and hatred, and fear, and greed, and unchecked ego…

That world had paid a price too dear. It was now a dark, frigid, lifeless husk that drifted through the empty outer reaches of the galaxy. The remaining fragments of its once great society had been thrown to the winds and scattered. His, once technically advanced, race was now reduced to nothing more than refugees. A hard shiver coursed over his circuits at the mere thought of something so tragic happening to the beautiful, promising world she called home. The world he now shared with her.

"I don't understand it either," he said; holding her tight against the cold.

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A/N

I'm not gonna stand on a soapbox and preach.

I'm not gonna tell you what's right and what's wrong.

Or how to live your lives.

All I'm gonna say is this: think about how your actions affect others. And if you don't like what you find, maybe its time to give your moral compass a good spin…

Sadly, this story was inspired by real-life events.

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If you don't know the drill by now – I don't make any money off this. I do it for fun. I don't own any of the characters, except the OC. The others belong to whoever owns them. I just hope you enjoy it.