Disclaimer: do not own Transformers.

Author note: Kind of set in a world that's crossed between G1 and Movieverse. G1 elements include the fact that the Autobots and the Decepticons are present on earth in greater numbers (and Megatron did not crash into earth's icy depths and thus did not get taken by Sector Seven) and the entire world is aware of their presence, and movie in that there's the race for the Allspark.

Acknowledgments: Silvane's bunny (which is the first paragraph of this fic) over on LJ. Thanks Silvane!

Masterpiece

He fell in love with humanity in general, and Witwicky and Banes in particular, the first time he ever saw the two. The two soldiers had raced through the shattered streets in a stolen blue truck, laughing in voices high and howling, leaving the enemies' entire ground force behind them.

He was at the front of the strike unit, and thus had caught a close glimpse of them as they drove past, Banes at the wheel, her eyes looking fiercely at the road, in mid-laugh with teeth bared, and Witwicky in the passenger's seat, eyes hidden behind a pair of shades and smirking as though he held a secret, with a hand casually draped out the window.

The Autobots had looked on, shocked still for just a nanoclick before finally intercepting the enemy. The human forces that had made a shaky alliance with them—out of a sense of survival rather than a sense of trust—had conspicuously split their forces; a good chunk had been portioned off to chase down the rogue soldiers.

He watched the blue truck disappear amidst the greys and blacks of fallen rubble and nightfall, giving their pursuers the slip.

He hadn't known it was love at first; but then again, who did? The only thing to tip him off at the time was a seemingly useless and annoying observation made by his brother:

"You're smiling," his brother had said, surprise mixed with a little bit of curiosity, because almost everyone knew that when he was smiling, it usually meant something either humiliating or painful or both for someone else. If he had such a plan in mind, his brother wanted in.

To which he immediately wiped said smile off his face. "Those two just made off with cases of the 'Cons' stash," he challenged. "Why shouldn't I be smiling?"

By his brother's widening smirk, he knew that he had been caught in just a stretch of the truth. However, his brother was either merciful enough or disinterested enough (he suspected the latter) to not push the matter.

He told himself that the two humans were of no consequence; told himself that they were no different from any other human who had crossed the Autobots' path, even though they were a little more crazy and certainly a little more daring.

But then he found himself paying a little more attention to the humans that had attached themselves to the Autobots, if only to learn a little bit about the two beings who had piqued his curiosity enough to warrant such an action.

He didn't want to appear too interested; he had a reputation to uphold, after all. And ever since the Black Ops of the Autobot unit landed, of which he and his brother made up two integral members, and joined the main group, he had treated the humans as a little lower than drones; useful, certainly, but often too much trouble than they were worth.

But he didn't have to look too far. The humans were fairly abuzz with gossip about the two. All he had to do was to lean casually in the shared rec room, not actively intimidate anyone for awhile, and soak in the information.

Some humans were scared of them, mainly because whenever those two showed up on a battlefield, the casualty count tended to go up. No one knew exactly which side they were on, but their hatred for the Decepticons was just as famed as their blatant disregard for anything and anyone but each other. They were a strike group in and of themselves, ghosts of the battlefield and heralds of war and death.

Nothing more interesting came from the human side of the rumour mill, and pretty soon the stories started to get repetitive and boring. The only other interesting tidbit was their names.

He'd heard the names of Witwicky and Banes before. Optimus Prime had issued a bulletin for their capture. Rumour had it that both rogue soldiers knew where the Allspark was, and the sooner they were in Autobot custody, the better.

The humans had issued a bulletin for their capture as well. Something about how the rogue soldiers made off with highly confidential information. They were probably the most wanted humans on this side of the planet.

"Bumblebee was actually assigned as Witwicky's guardian," he heard a mech behind him—probably Bluestreak; the gunner was very enthusiastic about storytelling—"because Witwicky's ancestor supposedly found the Allspark up north and some clues were left to his family as to its current whereabouts but Barricade got to him before Bumblebee did well actually got to his family first and Banes kind of got caught up in there I bet there's a good romance story behind their meeting let me tell you."

"Bumblebee never did forgive himself did he?" asked the smooth voice of Prowl, their Black Ops commander.

"Nah, not really. Bumblebee's kinda learned to get over it but how can you get over something like that? I mean that both Witwicky and Banes weren't even adults by the time Barricade started chasing 'em around and then they disappeared into the ranks of Sector Seven and poof out they come years later lookin' like that and being all trigger happy. Bumblebee reckons that he's made monsters, that's what."

He listened to the tale with increasing disgust, and found himself clenching his energon cube tightly.

Ah, Bumblebee. The soldier was younger than he and his brother by a few vorns, but was already one of Optimus' right-hand officers, and the star child of the Autobot unit. From what he had gleaned from records and the Autobot grape vine, the Camaro had had potential in his early years, but didn't live up to it. Now he was just as cautious and sympathy-filled as Optimus was.

Made him sick to his energon-ingestion system.

Make no mistake; he actually liked Optimus. The Autobot leader was one of the very few mechs who, over the vorns, had managed to gain the respect of his brother and, a much harder feat, himself. However, he believed that Optimus had enough sympathy for the human race to fill for the entire Autobot army.

He thought that it was useless to feel such an emotion towards such a race. From what he had seen, the humans were doing alright. They were certainly taking a few hits, but on the whole, they were hanging in there. How many other invaded races could say the same?

So Bumblebee thought that he made monsters, did he? He could only scoff at the information. Of course the yellow Optimus wannabe would think that. He saw rage, all that beautiful rage, dangerous and yet controlled, and of course he thought monster.

Everyone else might feel sorry for the rogues, but he didn't. He felt sort of proud. After all, Witwicky and Banes could have ended up as quivering organic lumps of fear, afraid to go anywhere or do anything. In his opinion, the kids did pretty well for themselves.

"Where were you?" his brother asked pointedly as he returned to their shared quarters.

"Why do you care?" he asked back.

His brother looked at him, and then snickered, allowing him his secret for now.

But even though he eventually went into recharge with Witwicky and Banes' victory cries echoing in his audio processors, he still didn't think it was love. Interest, certainly, but not love.

He didn't think it was love, either, when he found himself on the battlefield absently wondering where they were.

Did they think this skirmish beneath them?

Were they killing time by killing drones?

Were they planning yet another raid?

"You're smiling again," his brother told him amusedly, to which he answered with the generic "Shut up and focus."

But just as he was ignorant of his love for Witwicky and Banes, he was also ignorant of his blossoming love for humanity.

It began with lingering gazes at Lennox, Epps, Madsen, and Whitmann, who of all their kin had attached themselves to the Autobots the closest.

Lennox, who showed promise under Ironhide's watch; Epps, who was quickly proving to Jazz's human equal and counterpart; and Madsen and Whitmann, hackers who flourished under Blaster and company's tutelage.

He saw their rage, their joy, their fears and their sorrows, so much emotion that could light them aflame from within, restrained only by the Autobots' misguided benevolence and their pansy leaders who were afraid of such raw power. Where the Autobots saw a violent and vicious race, he saw something raw and savage and beautiful, diamonds in the rough that wanted just some of the Autobots' guidance.

He was an artist; he knew the difference between doing and overdoing, and the Autobots were overdoing it.

Could it be that they were afraid of the humans' rage as well? A rage that they must know resonated with what they themselves felt?

He was an artist, and here was a virtually empty canvas, begging to be made into a masterpiece.

He hadn't known it was love. He probably didn't want to know. But here it was; he, no less than a god amongst mortals, conquered by that he had scorned.

And it all began with those two soldiers, Witwicky and Banes, and their howling and cawing as they traversed their empire. Through them he saw how humanity could be, if only they were let out of their cages; if only they didn't let fools like these weak-minded and fear-filled glitches lead them.

One day, they had somehow lured Frenzy away from his host, beheaded him, and then placed his head on a spike. By the time the Autobots had arrived on the scene, there wasn't enough left of the master drone's programming to salvage any information that it had gathered to send to Barricade.

Barricade's roars of anguish were mingled with their mocking laughter, bouncing of the skeletons and frames of former buildings.

He would look back at it vorns later, and realize that, by this time, he was already head over heels in love.

Again, he hadn't known it was love. He didn't even know it was love when they were brought in, because all he felt was a pulsating anger that threatened the unity of his spark. It was Red Alert who finally caught them, after a long and arduous wait and a tiny slip-up on the part of the pursued, an act which entrenched the Security Director's place at the top of his master glitch list.

He had watched them come in, restrained but walking calmly with the Autobots on either side looking at them suspiciously.

Their eyes met his optic, and in that brief instant of gaze and gaze, of man and machine, he felt something resonate deep inside him, as if his spark had suddenly decided to pulsate with the heartbeats of the two humans.

His brother, beside him, raised one optic ridge and nudged him. His brother had felt it too, through him, but it was he who had met the full force of Medusa's gaze.

Then they were gone, swallowed in the shadow of an interrogation room, smiling like they knew a secret; and they did know a secret, but he was convinced that the Allspark's location was not the only secret that they knew.

He watched them from behind a one-way mirror. Somehow the issue of splitting them up and interrogating them individually was never brought up. Ironhide went into the room, and they gave him a quick up-and-down glance before simultaneously dismissing him.

This wasn't an interrogation. Not really. The two rogue soldiers weren't exactly enemies, which was the only reason why Prowl wasn't using his usual tactics. He was glad; somehow, he didn't think that hitting his Black Ops commander was going to go over well. Not that he cared, but still, it was a hassle that he'd rather live without.

It was obvious that the two knew where the Allspark was. They were deep within the heart of Sector Seven, after all, and by the looks of the brands on their hands and who knew where else on their bodies, they had even touched the thing. Government officials had assured the Autobots that no human experiments were done with the Allspark, but then again, the government didn't know everything about Sector Seven. Their Secretary of Defence hadn't even known that such a facility existed.

But when asked about the Allspark's whereabouts, Banes remained stubbornly silent, whereas Witwicky decided to play with them a little.

"Allspark, Allspark," Witwicky said, head titled a little to the side. "Big, black, cube-shaped, with funny marks all over it?"

"Yes," Ironhide said, his voice tight. Joors of questioning, and Witwicky would always talk them in circles.

"Never seen it," Witwicky said lightly.

Ironhide slammed a fist down at the table. "Do not play with me, human!" he said. Banes just laughed, and Witwicky smiled.

Behind the one-way mirror, most mechs gave sighs of pure frustration. Ironhide joined them, and they conferred quietly as to what to do next. Witwicky and Banes weren't being cooperative, but there was no reason to resort to more extreme methods of extracting information.

As the higher-ups talked, he looked into the interrogation room. From behind the one-way mirror, Witwicky and Banes looked straight at him. Other mechs and even other humans looked in their eyes and saw madness. But he knew better. There was no madness there. The only ones who were insane were the ones that did not see that.

He felt anger rising in him again, and his brother, sensing it, looked at him with an optic ridge raised.

Didn't they see how wrong this was? There was something beautiful here, being caged. It was wrong.

Almost all the mechs in that room took their turn at interrogation. Neither he nor his brother were allowed in. His brother, he understood. His brother wasn't one for seriousness in things like this, and would probably join the humans in a semi-hostile exchange of words.

But they thought that they knew his disposition, and probably thought that he'd break them beyond fixing.

He scoffed. Like he would. He'd sooner destroy the Allspark than do anything to either Witwicky or Banes.

They ended up with no answers. Bumblebee had escorted their 'guests' back to their holding cells.

He and his brother retired to his quarters.

"I know what you're thinking," his brother said in a sing-song tone.

"I'm sure you do."

"You're thinking that certain ravens should be out there, not caged in here."

"Adopted some eloquence, did you?"

His brother laughed. "Never had you pegged down as a human-lover."

"Who says its love?"

"I do."

"All the more reason to believe it isn't, glitch."

"Whatever."

He wasn't surprised when, later that night, Witwicky and Banes broke out. While their comrades were watching the offices and the vents, he and his brother went in another direction, pulled there by the call of his spark.

"Going somewhere?" he asked. Banes was busy hotwiring a car—certainly of a more attractive design than the blue van—and Witwicky was casually leaning against the hood of the car.

Witwicky looked at him evenly. Banes finished whatever it was she was doing, brushed dirt from her hands, and looked at him too.

"Oh you know, people to see, places to go, drones to behead and buildings to blow up," Witwicky said.

"You know, technically, we really should be bringing you in," his brother said amiably, but neither Autobot moved as the two humans got into the car, Witwicky at the wheel and Banes in the passenger's seat, her slender fingers brushing against the window frame.

"Hoover Dam," Witwicky said absently, checking the rear-view mirror.

"Come again?"

"Hoover Dam," he repeated. "You might want to look there." He looked at them, his spark resonating with something deep inside the humans. They were still smiling that smile. One of their secrets had been given up, but the location of the Allspark wasn't what was making them smile.

Then, just like that, they were gone.

"You know that Prowl is never going to forgive us," his brother said, watching the car tear off and dodge all of Red Alert's futilely-placed fences and traps.

He shrugged. "We're on Prowl's hit-list already. This isn't gonna make any of a difference."

"We should go tell the bosses about Hoover Dam."

"Right."

"Still don't think its love?"

"Not at all."

But as they turned back and were engulfed by the shadows of the base, he could still hear the laughter and howls of the humans, his masterpiece in the making.