A/N: I wasn't expecting this to turn out like this, but it did. It's sad, but I'd like reviews on it nonetheless, it's my first attempt at a drabble and I want to know if it's okay.

Disclaimer: I do not own transformers.

Warnings: Characters death, grief-driven insanity, slight gore.

Shock

The night was dark, an endless stretch of black velvet with bright, star-shaped jewels spread over it, scattered like the thoughts in his head. Gently he reached down and ran his fingers through the soft curls of his sweet little Annabelle, the pale blonde strands appearing a bone-white against his tan fingers. Slowly, ever so slowly, the strands slipped between his fingers like water, so very, very hard to hold onto. A constant fact that water was ever so elusive when humans attempt to cup it in their hands, draining away like the lives they always tried and failed to save.

"Will…"

The red in her hands, the ruby red of her favorite ball, fell to the ground but failed to bounce back up. He needed to inflate it, bring life back to the ball so his little girl would be happy, and he so loved to see her happy. He reached for the ball, but the rubber wasn't there, a sticky substance met his fingertips and he sighed. The ball had melted; he needed to get onto Ironhide for that… "C'mon Annie, it's time to go to bed." He ran his finger over her cheek, the red substance rubbing off on the pale skin. Cold, an icy coldness welled up from inside him and covered his daughter's skin, she felt so cold. The pale strands were pushed back and Will smiled slightly as he saw her closed eyes. "Already asleep, huh?" His voice came out in a cracked whisper and he wondered why the words felt so thick in his mouth.

"I can't stand this, Optimus. It has to be stopped. Primus, let me stop it…"

"Shhh, Annie's sleeping," Will said before he slowly lifted his little girl off the ground. The melted ball (?) was spread out on the ground beneath her and Will knew that if his wife were still alive she would be ranting at Ironhide for melting Annabelle's toys while practicing again. Her arms fell limp against his side and he wondered why she felt so light. Resolved to get his daughter to eat some more, Will slowly walked away from the debris-strewn ground of the road and walked into his house, his too light daughter clutched tightly in his arms.

Ironhide fell to his knees as the door closed behind Will, his eyes fixated on what Will had left behind. Cars, Annabelle was so used to be around them and had not thought any were bad, she had only met her Autobot friends. The road was never considered dangerous in her eight-year-old mind. Processors scrambled, Ironhide only watched as the pieces of Barricade were gathered, the Decepticon having been torn apart in Ironhide's blind rage. Slowly, the weapons specialist gathered the lower half of his sparkling, the ruby red blood disappearing against his paint as he walked towards the mortuary. He needed to get the other half from Will before his comrade was lost forever when he came out of his shock and realized that his daughter was dead.