(Incredibly Long Authors Note That I Will Try To Avoid In The Future:) I promised side stories, right? So here we go; side stories!

(I only disappeared off the internet for… a little less than a year. No big deal. I hear moving away from home and uprooting everything you ever knew does that.)

So it's been a while, and I spent a long time trying to remember what I had eventually decided his last words actually were. I had to go back and reread everything to try and get a feel for what I was trying to go for again.

Regardless, each chapter here will be a separate story that, for whatever reason, wasn't in the original story. Maybe it didn't fit with the story itself. Maybe it's an AU (though I haven't got any ideas for them at the moment, it might happen). Maybe they're just interesting little character vignettes I couldn't make work in the story and keep the flow I wanted. Maybe I just didn't realize it until it was too late. Regardless, all these things go here. Suggestions are more than welcome, encouragement and ideas are my biggest motivators to actually sit down and write something, though as I said, I make no promises.

For example, this chapter is in existence purely because Mystical-Maiden wanted to know what Wheeljack said.

Now you know.

Last Words

There was pain.

Too much. The continuous sensory overload was near unbearable. He dialed down his receivers as much as he could without manually disconnecting them, and though this brought his pain down to a manageable level, it wasn't completely gone. He couldn't even stand up. Or move at all. He tried to assess the damage, but only got as far as his (completely missing) right arm before his systems threatened to shut down from all manner of wounds.

Conserving energy as best he could, Wheeljack shut down his optic (there was only one now, some part of his mind noted fuzzily. That was probably a bad thing), as well as as many peripheral systems as he could get away with in his state. It wasn't much. He tried to remember what had happened, and didn't recall much of that either. There had been fire, and lasers, and explosions. Seekers. They'd come after him, once they'd finished bringing ruination upon his lab and home.

All he could think of was how glad he was that Ironhide had taken Bumblebee away from the complex. The timing was incredible, and he didn't really want to calculate the odds of such luck. He could only be grateful.

Poor Bumblebee, Wheeljack thought regretfully, to come back to this. If the seekers hadn't found them as well. No. No, he couldn't think like that. It hurt too much, too much to think his last creation turning gray and dead and… No. He just couldn't. The very real possibility hurt more than any of his physical wounds.

Injury made his thought process slow and fuzzy, which he belatedly realized, likely meant he had a moderate to sever head wound. That wasn't good at all.

But… he felt inside one of his hidden compartments, touching that precious blue bauble gingerly with his utterly ruined remaining hand.

There was hope.

Ironhide would know what to look for, he hoped. And if not, his body would likely be brought back to someone who would, most likely Ratchet. Poor Ratchet too. One of his oldest and best friends. He didn't want to die on Ratchet any more than Ratchet wanted to die on him. Too bad neither of them really had a say in it this time, though they had helped each other through any number of various deadly scrapes before.

But Ratchet wasn't here. The seekers had been.

They hadn't found what was important though- indeed, he wondered if they had even known it was there, or if they're razing his home was only unfortunate happenstance, resultant simply of bored seekers.

He almost managed a derisive chuckle. Oh what irony that would be.

"Wheeljack!"

For a moment, he almost didn't believe the voice was real. He booted his remaining optic; it came online slowly, painfully slowly. But eventually his sight cleared and in it was Bumblebee, burned and dirty and scared, but wonderfully, thankfully alive and well.

"B… Bee?" He could hardly make his vocals work, between the agony of his body and hid sheer relief at seeing the youngling alive and well.

But where was… Where was Ironhide?

He couldn't ask. His systems were shutting down, one by one. There was no time to ask, or talk. Bumblebee was his only hope. If Ironhide was down, so were his hopes of his body being sent along the proper routes, and the right people finding what they needed to on it. It was more likely to be found by Decepticons.

""B-bee, lis-s-s-ten t-to me-e-eee." He was stuttering now, herald of his near deactivation. "You-u have to-to f-f-f-f-f-f-find Optimus P-Prime. Giv-v-ve him th-th-this-s-s-ss.."

He pushed that all-important bauble into little Bee's hands.

"Get it t-t-t-o him-m-m! T-t-t-tell n-no one y-you have it! D-do you u-u-understand?"

Bumblebee nodded, and Wheeljack let out on final smile of relief.

'I'm sorry to leave this responsibility, this danger, to you. If I had any other choice…'

The last of his systems were shutting down. His vision was filled with static. Yet all he could see was Bumblebee's horrified face.

'I'm sorry' He tried to say. 'I wish I could stay with you forever… I do.'

His last creation. He didn't want to hurt him like this, leaving, not any of them. Never wanted to hurt them like this.

'I love you, Bee.'

The pain was gone now.

'Tell your brothers I love them too.'

And everything went black.