WARNING: This is a direct sequel to 'More Than a Team.' I'm not going to force you to read that story before you read this one, but it is highly recommended that you do. Some of the things in this story are spoilers for that story, and some of the characters/character developments might seem strange, but it's up to you whether you want to just go ahead and start with this story.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Transformers.

To those who read the previous story, welcome back! This story will focus mostly on Bumblebee, since the previous one focused more on his parents.

There is mention of an alcoholic drink in this chapter, but rest assured it is responsible drinking. No alcoholism here, kiddos!

Enjoy!


Bumblebee looked up from the storybook he was reading as he heard his father curse in Cybertronian. Through their strong bond, Bumblebee felt a flash of irritation from the Prime. Simultaneously, from the other half of Bumblebee's mental bond, he felt a brief amusement from his mother, followed by a stronger sense of annoyance.

"I know you did not just waste all those shrimp I peeled by throwing them into the floor due to some bout of clumsiness, my librarian," Ratchet said, leaning against the counter near where Optimus was working. Her tone was teasing but Bumblebee felt an undercurrent of emotion that betrayed his mother's temper, shimmering deep down inside her.

Unlike with the other Cybertronian children in the scrapyard – Strongarm, Sideswipe, and Smokescreen (who technically wasn't a child anymore, but both his parents were here) – Bumblebee knew he had an unusually strong telepathic connection to his parents. Most kids his age, five years old, would just now be learning how to communicate via telepathy, but Bumblebee had been communicating with his mind since he was just a few months old. This was most likely due to the damage to his vocal cords he had been born with, due to a Megatron-induced injury Ratchet had sustained while she was pregnant with him.

Whatever the case, Bumblebee was constantly getting fed two streams of telepathic input – one from Ratchet, one from Optimus. Most of the time, it was just emotions, especially if he was close to them, and if he focused hard enough, Bumblebee could send thoughts or even images to his parents. They, too, could respond in this manner, though Bumblebee knew they didn't experience the continuous stream of emotional input from him that he picked up on from them. In fact, what Bumblebee felt from both of them, they only felt from one another.

Windblade and Drift took this information to mean that Bumblebee had strong telepathic powers, like the late Soundwave. Bumblebee took the information to mean that his parents could never hide anything from him.

Optimus cleared his throat. "Well, not all of them, sweetspark."

"I thought all of the clumsiness had abandoned you when you became Optimus Prime," Ratchet said. Bumblebee felt a curl of mischievousness as she added, "Orion Pax."

"I don't answer to that name anymore, no more than you answer to Liaison," Optimus chided.

Ratchet huffed. "I'm going to get some crackers. I guess our gumbo will just have fewer shrimp than it was originally going to have."

Bumblebee went back to reading. The book was in English, a birthday present from Miko and Jack, and he liked the story, though a red dog the size of a house was rather absurd. Bumblebee preferred the stories in his father's datapads – Cybertronian texts detailing the war between Autobots and Decepticons – and the tales his mother told him – she switched a lot between Cybertronian and English when she told them, grand tales of heroic and villainous Primes and good and evil deities.

"Optimus, are these unsalted Saltine crackers? Who buys these jokes of crackers?" Ratchet cried.

"Um, Nurse Darby, I believe," Optimus replied.

Ratchet hurmped. "How am I supposed to – oh, hello, Knock Out." The last part was directed toward Knock Out, who had indeed entered the kitchen of Denny's scrapyard headquarters.

Knock Out fascinated Bumblebee, simply because every time she did something nice for somebody, she always had a shallow reason behind it. Like when she had gotten Bumblebee's jacket for him because he'd left it in his room, but then told him she'd just gotten the jacket to cover his hideous shirt.

The redhead began rummaging through the cabinet containing the cups, reaching toward the very back. As far as Bumblebee knew, only baby bottles were back there. Why Knock Out would want one was beyond him, since Strongarm hadn't used a bottle in ages.

"Hello, Ratchet, Prime," Knock Out commented off-handedly, like she was just automatically responding without putting any actual emotion into her words.

"What are you looking for?" Ratchet asked, straightening her glasses. "We are trying to cook dinner here." Bumblebee knew she was hinting for Knock Out to get out of the way.

Knock Out didn't get the hint, or, more likely, she ignored it. She snorted and said, "Who needs dinner when you have wine." She pulled out a glass with a thin stem.

"Oh, no way are you making your entire meal wine," Ratchet snapped, jerking the wineglass out of Knock Out's hand, ignoring as her friend began to pout. "Besides, when was the last time you had energon? You know you have to ingest energon, even if you are consuming human food. Wine is not a substitute for energon. You should know this, given your medical degree."

"Don't mock my medical degree," Knock Out retorted. "I went to the same prestigious academy you did – we were in the same class. And, if you must know, I had some energon this morning. Now, today is the Fourth of July, and while I'm not an American or even an Earthling, I intend to celebrate, thank you." She plucked the wineglass from Ratchet's hand and exited the kitchen with a flounce.

Ratchet frowned. "Good riddance. That woman – if she cares so much about fashion and looking good, surely she should realize that nothing is more attractive than a healthy individual."

"Ratchet, we talked about your being so judgmental," Optimus said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Right, of course." Flicking a strand of strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder, Ratchet turned to Bumblebee. "Bee, why don't you go outside and make sure that Miko and Wheeljack aren't planning anything explosive? I know it's the Fourth, but…well, I don't need Fixit's wheelchair to catch on fire, like last year."

Bumblebee smiled, recalling that chaotic moment. It had actually been pretty funny, watching the Mini-Con wheel back and forth screaming bloody murder while the large, black wheels of his wheelchair smoldered. There hadn't been any actual flames, but Fixit had still – and rightfully – panicked. Grimlock had plucked Fixit out of the wheelchair, while Jack and Raf had hosed down the rubber wheels. Miko and Wheeljack had gotten a lecture on firework safety from Ratchet, Ultra Magnus, and Denny, while Sideswipe, Smokescreen, and Russell had roared with laughter.

Ratchet, however, knew what Bumblebee was smiling about. "No, it wasn't funny. Now go outside and join the others."

Waving goodbye to his parents, Bumblebee hurried outside to the back of the scrapyard near Fixit's crashed ship, the Alchemor, where the others were gathering.

Denny was proudly showing off an invention of his to Fixit, who didn't look impressed when Denny's back was turned, but smiled encouragingly and cheerily when Denny turned to him. June and Fowler were also listening to Denny; June with a polite expression, while Fowler frowned as if wondering what would happen when Denny's invention malfunctioned. Since Denny, Fowler, and June were humans, their minds were unreachable to Bumblebee, but Ratchet had made sure everyone had been taught sign language so Bumblebee could still communicate with them.

Fixit, however, Bumblebee could communicate with telepathically, though he tended to avoid it. With all Cybertronains that weren't his parents, Bumblebee had to actually reach out to their minds, but then he could talk to them, though their emotions were lost to him. Talking to Fixit via telepathy was a dizzying experience. His mind worked on so many levels, that while he would be sending one message, a background message would come with it. It explained why the others only verbally communicated with Fixit as much as possible, while Bumblebee preferred to use sign language to communicate with the engineer and former prison warden.

Windblade was sitting on the ground on a blanket next to Drift. Drift's Mini-Cons, a wolf named Slipstream and his brother Jetstorm, were lying behind them. Animal-former Mini-Cons like the wolf brothers could only communicate with the Cybertronian they had picked as their teacher/master, that being Drift. Bumblebee could sense their mental presence and could tell they were Mini-Cons rather than Earth animals – who had no mental presence that Bumblebee could sense – though he wasn't capable of sending or receiving messages from the Mini-Cons.

Knock Out was sitting in a lawn chair next to her husband, Ultra Magnus. Strongarm was playing in the dirt before them with a toy police truck, but the four-year-old stopped when she realized Bumblebee had arrived. Wheeljack was showing off her impressive stack of fireworks to Bulkhead. Her husband looked like he was torn between telling Wheeljack she was a moron for having so many explosives, or giddily clapping and telling her to light them. Grimlock was studying the fireworks, smiling broadly at the prospect of blowing them up; the Dinobot was a fan of destruction, whether it came about via brute force or explosions.

Smokescreen was acting as a referee for a game of bad mitten between the younger citizens of the scrapyard. On one side of the net were Jack and Raf, while on the other were Miko and Sideswipe. Raf was an interesting case in the sense that Bumblebee, and other Cybertronians, could communicate with him via telepathy. He had no detectable mental presence, like with all Earth fauna, so it felt like sending messages into the void. Only this void talked back, unlike the other voids.

Strongarm rushed over to Bumblebee, smiling. Her blue eyes were bright with excitement, and her blonde hair curled over her shoulder in a tight braid. Knock Out had clipped a blue-and-white bow to her temple, but Bumblebee could tell Strongarm didn't like the bow by the way she kept jerking her head whenever the bow grazed her forehead.

"Look at what Father got me!" She proudly held up the toy police truck. "The lights even flash when you press this button on the hood." She jabbed her finger into an indention in the center of the hood and the red and blue lights on top of the cab flashed.

Cool. Can I see it? Bumblebee asked via telepathy. Strongarm had just started using her mental presence and he was grateful he didn't have to sign since telepathy was faster.

Strongarm hesitated. "Fine, but don't break it. Or give it to Sideswipe." Sideswipe was Strongarm's thirteen-year-old half-brother, and it seemed his goal to annoy Strongarm to death.

Bumblebee nodded in promise and smiled in thanks when Strongarm handed the toy to him. He himself had plenty of toys, but there was always something exciting about the prospect of a new toy.

He set down and began rolling the truck around, but quickly grew bored. Feeling a flash of mischievousness, he rolled the truck as hard as he could into Strongarm's foot.

"Hey! You promised you'd be careful," she yelped. "And that hurt. Ouch!"

Did not! Bumblebee accented his taunt with his tongue, which he stuck out to make a face.

With a growl, Strongarm tackled him. Pretty soon, they were both rolling on the ground, wrestling. This had been Bumblebee's goal all along, since Strongarm was the only person he could fairly wrestle with. The adults ignored him, and the older kids took it way too easy on him. Jetstorm and Slipstream often wrestled with Bumblebee, but this always ended with one of the wolves lying on top of Bumblebee in victory. At least with Strongarm, Bumblebee had a chance of winning.

They hadn't been wrestling long when Bumblebee felt a pair of hands grab his waist. He sent a rush of protest via a mental burst, but his mother ignored him as she rather ungracefully deposited him on the ground away from Strongarm. Ratchet stood between them, hands held out in case she had to grab a child.

"And just what do you think you two are doing?" she asked.

Strongarm's hair bow was askew and she plucked it out of her hair. Glowering at Bumblebee, she mumbled, "We were fighting."

"Why?" Ratchet asked.

Jetstorm and Slipstream fight all the time, Bumblebee told her.

"Are you telling me you are no more civilized than a pair of wolves?" Ratchet was selling the Mini-Con brothers short with that statement, but she was quick to move on. "The two of you better be on your best behavior for the rest of the night, or I'll let Ultra Magnus break up the next fight."

"No, please, not Daddy!" Strongarm cried, while Bumblebee waved his hands wildly to express that it was not necessary to drag Ultra Magnus into this.

"Alright. Optimus brought dinner, so let's go eat. Oh, one more thing."

Bumblebee paused, wondering what his mother had up her sleeve. The strawberry blonde produced two glow sticks – one yellow and one blue – and smiled as she passed them to Bumblebee and Strongarm.

"Thanks, Ratchet," Strongarm gushed.

Bumblebee hugged his mother's legs, sending her a burst of gratitude and love through their mental connection. Ratchet chuckled and ruffled Bumblebee's blond hair.

"You better get in line before Fowler gets all the gumbo," Ratchet told them, shooing them on ahead of her.

Bumblebee rushed over to the table, where his father was sitting out empty bowls for everyone to use, putting a spoon in each of them. Optimus smiled down at Bumblebee as he skidded to a stop in front of him, proudly waving his yellow glow stick.

"I see your mother handled the situation properly," he commented, clearly amused, as the others gathered around. He turned his attention to Fowler as the former Army Ranger muttered, "Most Americans celebrate the Fourth with hamburgers and hot dogs, not gumbo."

"Most Americans aren't celebrating with Cybertronians, or have energon on the serving table, dear," June said, pointing at the energon cubes stacked on one corner of the table. "Besides, it's been a while since Ratchet and Optimus cooked, so I'm just happy I didn't have to."

Bumblebee turned to Knock Out as she smiled down at her daughter, who was waving around her blue glow stick. "What's that there? Did Ratchet actually do something nice for once?"

"Hey!" Ratchet protested.

Optimus wrapped a hand around her waist and pulled her close. "Don't mind her. I know you're very kind."

Ratchet raised an eyebrow incredulously. "The first time we met, I insulted you."

"Yes, but you were so beautiful, it made your insult a thing of heavenly song," Optimus said. He kissed her temple before Ratchet turned her head to turn it into a full kiss. Bumblebee gagged, the feeling of love overwhelming his sensory inputs.

"Jesus, get a room, you two!" Miko called.

Ratchet whipped her head around to look at the Japanese girl. "If the groundbridge wasn't broken, I'd send you back to Tokyo for your parents to deal with you." She glared at Fixit.

"I head – bed – said I'd fix the groundbridge," he protested. "Which is only fair, considering I broke it in the first place, but, to be fair, how was I supposed to know that –"

"Just fix it, Fixit," Wheeljack interrupted. "Hey, this gumbo is pretty good." The explosives expert jammed another spoonful into her mouth.

"I always thought there was more shrimp in gumbo," Bulkhead added.

Bumblebee snickered as Ratchet punched Optimus's arm in mock anger.

"Jeez, Miko was right. You two do need to get a room," Jack teased.

"I'll ship you to Tokyo with Miko, Jack," Ratchet warned. "It's about time you met your future in-laws."

Jack blushed, while Miko leaned over to kiss her boyfriend's cheek. She giggled as she pulled back, clearly envisioning Jack meeting her parents.

"You wouldn't," Jack said. "Mom wouldn't let you."

"If it'll teach the boy some manners, do it, Ratchet," June said. She and Ratchet high-fived as Jack sputtered incomprehensibly.

"How's your day going, Bee?" Raf asked, ruffling Bumblebee's hair.

Bumblebee turned to the fifteen-year-old and dropped his glow stick to sign. It is going. Wheeljack set off fireworks soon?

When it gets dark, Raf signed back. Are you excited? He signed the letter symbols for 'are' and 'you' (R and U), but Bumblebee understood what he meant.

Very! He accented the exclamation point by signing out the four letters that spelled 'very' in a rapid and large manner.

"Oh, Strongarm, what happened to your bow?" Knock Out cried, drawing Bumblebee's attention. Knock Out's voice was high and just drew attention to the redhead whenever she spoke, which was probably fine by her.

"I lost it," Strongarm grumped. "I don't like it anyway."

"But it's so charming!" Knock Out turned to Sideswipe. "Tell your sister she looks pretty with the bow."

Sideswipe sniffed. "You can't fix ugly."

"Sideswipe!" Ultra Magnus scolded, shooting a disapproving look at his stepson. "Take that back and apologize. Then do as your mother told you."

Sideswipe grit his teeth, and Bumblebee was sure he was going to resist or spout off another insult. Then he mumbled, in barely eligible words, "Sorry I called you ugly, Strongarm, even if it is true. You look pretty with the bow in your hair because Mom says so."

Ultra Magnus and Knock Out exchanged looks, but evidently decided that was as close to an apology as Sideswipe was going to get. Sideswipe bounded off to talk to Grimlock, and Knock Out sent Strongarm to get a juice box.

Bumblebee smiled as he heard Fowler complaining again. "I don't know why I introduced Earth holidays to these Cybertronians. They just ruin them anyway, like this past Christmas." He shot a look at Wheeljack.

"The pine needles were making my eyes water and burn," she protested. "That tree deserved to burn!"

"And the plastic Santa?"

"He was so cheery, all the time, smiling way to broadly," Wheeljack said. "He was so happy, it was irritating, so I burned him."

"That Santa was a collectible," Denny moaned. Russell patted his father's arm to comfort him as he recalled his loss.

Bumblebee turned back to Raf, only to find that his unofficial-but-practically-adopted-human-brother was in the process of defending his bowl of gumbo from Slipstream and Jetstorm. Bumblebee wondered why Drift wasn't reining in his Mini-Cons like usual, but then he realized that Drift was distracted by Windblade, who was retelling some tale about the time she had spoken to Primus himself.

An alarm went off in the Alchemor and the screen flared to life in a covered but outdoor section that was the base of operations for the Cybertronians in the scrapyard. Here, they could keep track of all the Cybetronians on Earth and could tell when one – an aspiring Decepticon or just a troublemaker – was on a rampage. The Cybertronians claiming loyalty to the Decepticons had dwindled to a few since the end of the war and Starscream's departure with most of the Decepticon force, but they still remained, occasionally causing trouble.

Bumblebee pushed his way to the front to stand beside Fixit and Strongarm, who had also muscled through the crowd to get a clear view of the screen.

"Who do I get to hit?" Grimlock asked, pounding a fist into his palm

"Maybe no one," Fixit replied. "It isn't a Decepticon activity warning, or even Cybertronian nativity – festivity – activity. Well, not Cybertronians on Earthy, anyway."

Bumblebee looked up at the screens. He didn't know what the warnings meant, but he realized that something was coming. A tension was building in the gathered crowd, a sense of anxiety of the unknown. Bumblebee felt a rush of calm and resolve from his father, while his mother's bond was muted as she reined her emotions in, pulling them in close.

"Optimus!"

Ratchet hadn't walked onto the Alchemor with the others and was instead looking toward the sunset, her blue-green eyes hidden by the harsh reflection of light in her glasses. Optimus, too, had remained back, standing at the base of the ramp where he could hear the others, and he rejoined her, standing by her side to look at the horizon.

"Why, it's already here. Its cloaking must be very high-tech," Fixit said, sounding impressed.

"What's coming, Fixit?" Smokescreen asked.

Bumblebee looked back at the scrapyard. Jetstorm and Slipstream had climbed a small pile of junk to get a higher vantage point. Drift and Windblade were standing at the bottom of the ramp leading up the platform on the Alchemor where the others were. Wheeljack and Bulkhead joined them. Jack, Miko, Raf, and Russell were all pointing at a single point in the sunset.

"Fixit, who is it?" Knock Out asked. She was twirling a small rod in her fingers that Bumblebee had never seen before and he wondered what it was.

"I don't bow – show – know," Fixit replied.

Ultra Magnus and Knock Out shared a look, clearly unnerved. Bumblebee reached out toward his parents and was immediately confronted with a hard wall of bravery, forced calm, and countless other emotions that Bumblebee had only felt the few times his parents had fought Decepticons since his birth.

At this point, Bumblebee could see and hear what had everyone so rapt.

Living up to the nickname Sideswipe had given him (that being Captain Obvious), Fixit needlessly said, "It's a Cybertronian trip – chip – ship."


"What are you doing? Come back this way!"

Starscream shrugged Steve's hands off her. "Get your family and get out of here. I'll deal with whatever this is."

"Queen Starscream, please!" Steve begged. "All the halls are aflame in that direction. You must leave."

"Go, Steve. Don't worry about me," Starscream told him. "Besides, you have the Liaison with you, so it doesn't matter what happens to me."

She nodded at Steve's wife, Charlotte, Cybertron's Liaison. Charlotte's scarred hands were currently clutching the hands of two children: her and Steve's daughter, Evelyn, and her and Steve's adopted son, Stephen.

"Good luck to you, Starscream," Steve breathed.

"Stay safe," Starscream replied. She waited just long enough to make sure Steve was actually escorting his family away before she continued on her way, toward where the bomb had initially gone off.

The attack was on her palace, which had just been built over where the High Council Chamber had once stood. Starscream had been torn between making her home in the ruins of Vos, the old Seeker hometown, or Iacon, the old capital. In the end, she'd decided on Iacon and much of the rebuilding had been on Iacon structures.

Starscream hurried around a corner and stopped short. She was in a large room used for gatherings – either social events, or meetings between Starscream herself and larger individuals…like the ursagryph and dragon currently ripping the place to shreds. Arcee was held between two of Starscream's Seeker guards, who were most likely trying to stop the former Autobot from killing herself by battling Skylynx and Darksteel, though the woman was oddly persistent in her want to battle, continually thrashing about in the guards' grasp.

Starscream, however, narrowed her focus to the man standing in front of her with his back to her, watching as Skylynx and Darksteel tore the room apart. He was tall – eight feet, to be exact – with brown, leathery skin and black hair that looked like it hadn't been washed in ages tumbled down his back in greasy dreads. He was dressed in copper and gold robes, and a spiky, golden crown glinted in his hair.

"Predaking, we had a deal!" Starscream yelled, marching forward.

The man turned, large muscles rippling under his skin. His golden eyes were alight with the fire of war.

Starscream had worked hard to form a peaceful agreement with the Predacon king (politics was not his strong suit). Predaking would reign over his Predacons, and Starscream would reign over all the other Cybertronians as the Queen of Cybertron. The agreement was simple: Predacons didn't hurt Starscream's Cybertronians, and Starscream's Cybertronians didn't hurt Predacons.

"What is the meaning of this, Predaking?" Starscream asked, stilling moving toward him. "My people haven't broken the agreement. Why are you burning my palace?"

Predaking swatted her. The hit was jarring, and Starscream slid across the floor before she finally stopped. Fire laced throughout her chest, and she was sure Predaking had broken at least one rib. Slag those Predacons and their strength!

"I am a king!" Predaking roared, exposing his pointed teeth. "I don't answer to a queen."

Starscream pushed herself to her feet, her wings flaring out behind her. She could see now that this wasn't about the agreement. This was about control, and Predaking was removing Starscream from the equation. The Seeker glanced over at Arcee, only to see the guards dragging her away as she fought to break from their grasps, and she realized Arcee was a hostage.

"Let her go!" Starscream ordered.

For the first time since the end of the war, her orders were ignored. The guards and Arcee disappeared out an exit on the other side of the room.

She turned to Predaking. Skylynx and Darksteel were no longer tearing the place apart, but were moving up beside their king.

Starscream pulled a long, silver dagger from her belt. She felt a twinge of regret that she hadn't been sparring any to stay in top fighting shape. "Who are you working for?"

"I work for no one!" Words turned to roars as Predaking's entire mass grew. His elaborate robes became wings, and his muscles expanded. His skin grew scales and his nails grew out into claws. His face elongated and his teeth grew into large fangs.

Starscream dodged the blast of fire that came from Predaking's mouth, slid under a swat from his paw, and sprang to her feet. Soaking in the rush of battle, Starscream found herself thinking she might actually win a fight against the Predacon as she faced Predaking's now exposed side.

Something hard slammed into her, sending her skidding across the floor again. Her dagger skittered away, and her silver circlet rolled across the floor. Starscream cursed herself for forgetting about Predaking's tail as the Predacon turned to her. Without hesitation, he slammed a paw down over her, leaving room for her head to poke out between his claws. He opened his mouth, flames flickering deep in his maw.

Starscream heard wing beats, and just happened to glimpse dark blue and yellow wings. She heard a weapon being drawn, and heard Skylynx and Darksteel hiss, as though uncertain how to approach this new addition to the party.

"Predaking, let her go," Dreadwing ordered.


Bumblebee followed Fixit, keeping his eyes trained on the wheelchair in front of him, trying to ignore the numb feeling creeping over him. This wasn't right, something was wrong, something was gone, and nothing would be right again.

The scrapyard was a mess, and whatever organization Denny had had was gone. Bumblebee didn't want to go back toward the Alchemor, where it had happened, but Ratchet had told him to stay with Fixit, and Fixit was going to the Alchemor, so Bumblebee was going to the Alchemor.

Slipstream and Jetstorm slunk out of the darker shadows and joined Fixit and Bumblebee. Both of them licked Fixit's face, ignoring his protests, and then they began circling around Bumblebee, whining. Slipstream was limping, and Bumblebee could see his left forepaw was swollen. Occasionally, Jetstorm nosed at that limb as if to ask his brother how bad the injury was.

Fixit and Bumblebee rounded a newly formed crater, Slipstream and Jetstorm following, and found everyone who was…left.

The humans – June, Fowler, Jack, Miko, Raf, Denny, and Russell – were clustered together under the wing of Windblade's jet. Raf looked at Bumblebee sadly, as did Jack and Denny, but the others mostly ignored him. Fowler was scowling at the dark sky, while Jack, Miko, and Russell were talking amongst themselves.

Windblade and Drift were standing alone, and Slipstream and Jetstorm ran over to their master. Drift's expression didn't change, but Bumblebee could tell he was relieved to see the Mini-Cons by the way he patted the tops of their heads.

Grimlock was standing near them, Sideswipe and Strongarm clustered around him. Despite his brave look, Bumblebee knew Sideswipe was just as fearful and stressed as Bumble was by the way he clutched his little sister's hand in his own. Strongarm just looked confused, and she waved with her glow stick, which she somehow hadn't lost in the chaos. Bumblebee's yellow glow stick had shattered, and the glowing yellow goo was splattered around on the ground near the overturned food table.

"Fixit, Bumblebee!" Windblade rushed over, clearly relieved to see them. She ruffled Fixit's hair and then reached for Bumblebee and patted his head before pulling him into a hug. Bumblebee wiggled out of her grasp and Windblade went back to fussing over Fixit, straightening his glasses.

"What now?" Jack asked.

"Optimus gave us orders and we'll follow them," Drift intoned. He was crouched down in front of Slipstream, checking his injured paw.

Bumblebee set down right where he was, feeling off-kilter. The emotions raging inside him were his and his alone. Those in-depth emotions he always sensed that weren't his were gone, empty.

For the first time, there was no input from Ratchet and Optimus.

And Bumblebee had never felt more alone.


I'm so evil, hehe. Or am I? Just stick with me. Everything ties together...eventually.

NOTE: I originally planned this scene out months ago, and the earliest draft included that fact that this celebration would take place on the Fourth of July. I'm actually super excited that this post was uploaded the same week as the Fourth. Coincidence? I think not!

Review if you want! See you next post.