A/N: As already mentioned, this piece takes place directly after the episode "New Recruit." But I'm afraid both Bumbee and I have decided to tinker with time lines, thus, rather than follow the show perfectly, we've proceeded so that "Heartlines" takes place shortly after the events of our other piece, De Cinere, Nova Vita. So, dear reader, be warned, there are references a plenty that are made to the events of De Cinere. In fact, this short piece is rather intimately connected and reflects on much of the aftermath of De Cinere… (In other words, yes, yes that really was a shameless bit of self-promotion for our other story ;) )

Now, enough chatter, on with the plot!

~~~Epsilon Pax & Bumbee

Please R&R!

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Away

For the moment, that is what he wanted, what he needed to be.

Away

The command hummed resolutely to the forefront of his mind, as he willed himself to allow that one precious need to consume the whole of his attention.

Away

He needed the distance, the space from them, all of them.

Away

That one yearning need was enough to galvanize his every step, each rattling, pain filled step as he lumbered down the hallway. His wide palms grazed against the concrete walls as he muscled himself away, just away, away from Ratchet, from Bumblebee, from Arcee, from Jack and Raf, from Optimus, from Smokescreen, from—

"Bulk!"

Miko's voice chased him down, followed him, would not let him get away. Resolute, Bulkhead set his jaw, did not flinch and did not look back. He could not and would not answer her, because to do so would be to return and that he could not do.

"—Seriously, once we get that leg of yours back in shape, old Smokey's gonna learn real quick who the top wreaking ball is around here!"

He urged his battered servos on, forced the over strained joints and gears to move, to carry him further, further away and into the darkness of the hallway as it stretched on, deeper into the sprawling underground complex. Soon, he knew, soon she would see, would understand what he did: by accepting the rookie so quickly, so easily into their ranks, into Team Prime, Optimus was replacing him, pushing him away and condemning him to the scrap yard.

From a Wreaker into nothing more than a wreak…the thought followed him down the hallway, into the gloom of the tunnels. As Bulkhead limped away, doubt and despair filled Miko, made her shoes too heavy to lift and her heart unwilling to follow him, her Bulky, her protector…her friend. He hadn't looked back when she called out to him, no doubt he hadn't listened to her, perhaps didn't even want to. Instead, she just watched as he walked away, watched him as she stood still and stagnant, pinned by indecisions. A sigh escaped her as she listened to him depart, heard the scrape and groan of metal as he pushed himself away from her even as the chatter of the others rose behind her.

"Bulkhead, just needs some time, he's a strong bot, he'll be fine." Arcee's firm and decided voice echoed over Miko's shoulder. Quick and light a chorus of chirps and whistles danced through the air as Bumblebee agreed, eager to support her and to reassure the newest addition to the team.

Brash and full of bravado, Smokescreen was all too willing to accept their words, their comfort. "Sure, sure. He does look like a strong bot, I'm sure he'll be fine." He turned to Ratchet, giving the senior medic a cocky smirk.

"I don't see what you're so happy about, Smokescreen, member of this team or not, you still broke protocol." Ratchet sternly intoned, he was still caught between a sense of relief that Smokescreen's plan had worked and an insistent distrust of the young Autobot that he couldn't quite dismiss entirely.

"Yeah, sorry about that, I'll do better next time, just you wait and see!" He winked at Ratchet, "I'll be sure to remember who the real leader of Team Prime is, all hail Ratchet, keeper of protocol! Leader of the Autobots!" He joked and chuckled appreciatively at his own jest, even managing a mock salute at the medic, but found a blanket of silence had descended over the others. In the face of such a pall his laughter died away, "What? I'm just kidding…"

But there was no support now, no glint of welcome in the other's optics. Arcee and Bumblebee alike had tensed, Bee crossing his arms in a cold gesture while Arcee balled her hands into tight fists. "Wow…a tough crowd I see…" Try as he might for levity, nerves and tension tightened his tone. More than a little concerned at the dark and stern sentiments that had become etched into all of their faceplates, Smokescreen risked a worried glance over to Optimus. Having heard so much about the legendary Prime, and only ever dreamed of serving under his command, the last thing that Smokescreen wanted to do was insult the Prime and jeopardize his newly attained position on the team. The young bot's spark clenched in fear when he caught sight of the pained expression that shadowed the Prime's countenance. But Optimus did not return Smokescreen's gaze, did not even seem to register it, rather his cerulean optics tracked the movements of Bulkhead, focused completely upon the green mech as he retreated from their company.

"You will get this through your thick processor right now—" Ratchet burst into Smokescreen's inner turmoil, "—it is to Optimus Prime who you answer! He is the Leader of all Autobots and it is his authority as Prime that has allowed us to endure even for this long! It is his leadership that has enabled us to counter the Decepticon efforts and—" The heat of anger tipped Ratchet's words, made him turn so viciously upon Smokescreen because unknowingly, the new recruit had touched upon a tender topic, an emotional wound that was still healing within the medic. After all that the team had recently endured, the very last thing that Ratchet ever wanted to hear again was his name in association with the phrase 'leader of the Autobots.' However, Ratchet's tirade was cut short as Optimus shifted, the movement fluid though hardly noticeable as he draped one great hand upon Ratchet's shoulder. The gesture caught the red and white bot off guard, though he was hardly opposed to Optimus' comforting grip.

"Peace, old friend," The Prime's soothing cadence rumbled, "Peace…though perhaps reckless, Smokescreen was not challenging my authority or elevating yours unnecessarily." He understood in that moment what had pricked Ratchet's temper, of the brush of fear that had touched his old friend. It was yet another reminder that the team, his team, had endured all too much in the last few weeks, and all because of him. He had brought this lingering pain upon all of them, his guilt whispered to him over and over again, it rebuked him of his actions, of how he alone had forever etched this doubt into their sparks.

"Peace, old friend…" he murmured again to Ratchet, yearning not for the first time—and certainly not the last—that he could undo the damage, could bear the burden of their suffering so that they would not have to. But he knew he couldn't, just as he knew that now was not the time to fall asunder, to become divided. No, now more than ever they needed to remain together, to function as a whole, as a team…as a family.

"Optimus…I didn't mean any offense…I-I'm sorry…and to you too Ratchet…" Stunned, unsure of what wrong he had committed, what delicate subject he had stumbled over, Smokescreen was quick to try and remedy the situation, "Optimus, I—"

"—I believe what would be best for Smokescreen at the moment is if he became quickly acclimated to daily operations and functions of our base." Optimus' tremulous timber eclipsed Smokescreen's, though the young bot was anything but offended at the interruption. Rather relief trickled through him at the clear implication that the Prime had no intention of dismissing him.

"Agreed," Ratchet joined in, "It's high time we resume patrols."

"Indeed, old friend…" Optimus turned toward Bumblebee and Arcee, "It would be best if we did not allow our vigilance to wane, even for a joyous moment such as this as we welcome a new member into our fold," His optics flickered over to Arcee with more than a little hesitation. Ever keen, she recognize that pause within his optics, knew that he was loath to order her out on patrol…because the last time she had ventured outside of the confines of the base alone, she had been captured and tortured by Decepticons.

"Perhaps Smokescreen could accompany Bumblebee on patrol this evening, so that our scout can best show him the way." Even as the words left his processor, Optimus could clearly catch the objection that Arcee dared not to voice, but rather allowed to radiate from her very gaze, her very stance as each panel in her slight frame tensed. She stood that way, stiff and anything but relaxed as Bumblebee escorted Smokescreen toward the base's main entrance, the one that gave way to the open road, which snaked around and through Jasper.

He knew the storm that was brewing within Arcee, knew it would not take long to break, so it was that as Bumblebee and Smokescreen's footfalls echoed away into nothingness as they went out into the waiting night, that Optimus was quick to turn towards the path that Bulkhead had taken. It was not that he wished to ignore her, or that he intended to dismiss her concerns or feelings, but rather it was that he recognized the pain that griped Bulkhead was of a far more grave nature, and so must be tended to sooner rather than later.

"I'm not a sparkling, I can take care of myself, "Arcee snapped at Optimus' back as he moved away from them. With care Ratchet reached out, his fingertips brushing against her arm, holding her back with not force of strength but with a silent request. Even still, it could not keep her litany from tumbling out of her, "Megatron isn't always going to be lurking around ever corner, Optimus! And you can't keep me from going out on patrols just because you're afraid that Megatronus could—" Just a simple stumble of syllables, an unconscious slip, but the damage had been done. Arcee fell silent, watched helplessly as Optimus' normally smooth stride faltered, as he winced under the sting of that name.

"Oh Primus…" She breathed, unsure of where that long dreaded name had come from, for it was the last one that she wanted to say, let alone the one she would have wanted to fling at Optimus in such a cruel manner. Even despite her frustration, despite her very real anger, she never intended to hurt him in such a way. Yet, Optimus offered her no defense, no show of answering anger or temper, but rather resumed his pace till he drew alongside Miko, kneeling with ease as he stretched out his hand to her, palm up.

"Miko…"he intoned softly, his expression kind and open. Familiarity whispered through her as Miko turned to look up at him, at the expression behind his optics, so gentle and pained. She had seen that look in his optics before…no, she mentally stumbled, not his optics…Orion's. Now, as she had then, she did not hesitate as she moved forward to clamber into his palm. Her fingertips ghosted briefly over the panels of his wrist, panels that once, not so long ago, shone with black and purple. It was comforting to her in a small manner, as she stroked the red and blue colors, content that at least those tones were right. It was true, painfully so, that they were all still struggling to put the pieces of their old life back together, even she could see that, just as easily as she could see Bulkhead's limp…and the darkness that was brewing within him. She shivered then, not from the cool air of the base, but rather from memories that she, and the Autobots alike, would rather put to rest for good. So it was that she looked up, up at him and offered to Optimus the only thing that she could: a smile. Though quiet and small, it was all that she could give to him, the being who had sacrificed so much for her…for all of them. Just as it was the one thing she could do to offer comfort to at least one of the bots…Oh Bulkhead….her heart cringed, tears pushing at the backs of her eyes, making them ache, though she refused to let them fall.

"Thanks for the lift, Boss Bot…" Miko murmured quietly as she allowed him to carry her back to where Jack and Raf waited on the raised dais. Flickering his optics in acknowledgment, Optimus waited until she slipped to the floor alongside her human companions before turning his voice toward Arcee and Ratchet.

"Arcee, you must not believe—"

At his attempt to resume the conversation, Arcee couldn't help the flare of her temper from rising anew"—You're being overprotective!" she burst, once again all heat and temper, "I can more than handle myself and you have no right to try and keep me locked away here just because you think I might get hurt!"

So much anger…so much pain…

Optimus shuttered his optics, trying to block out the outraged expression on Arcee's face, to ignore the look of concern that Ratchet could not hide. He would have to bear Arcee's anger, at least for now, and this he would do, silently, patiently. Not because it was what he wanted, but rather because right now Bulkhead needed him…needed someone to be there, to reassure him that his place was not in jeopardy, no one was driving him away…no one but himself…Feeling world weary and beaten, Optimus ex-vented heavily—the quiet sound making Miko jump, making her remember, remember all too well the last time she had heard him make such a sound he had been sprawled helplessly on the ground, his energon pooling around him and Starscream standing over him…

The gentle nudge of an elbow, accompanied by the sound of Jack's voice, close and concerned, "You okay, Miko?" She hadn't told him, or Raf much about that day, hadn't wanted to, hadn't been ready then and still wasn't ready now. So, instead she offered him numb and empty words, "Yeah, sure…of course…"

So much anger…so much pain…

Images, memories rattled around in her head…Bulkhead limping away from her, struggling just to walk…Orion lying defenseless, dying at Starscream's feet…why, why did she feel so responsible? As if everything was her fault?

"It is late, Arcee…" Optimus rumbled at last, interrupting her renewed tirade, "Perhaps it would be best if you took Jack home…"

"Optimus!" Arcee snapped, still squaring off, wanting a fight, a battle, a place where she could vent her frustration. But surprisingly, this time it was Jack who diverted that formidable temper of hers. He stretched his arms widely, yawning in an over exaggerated fashion, "Hey 'Cee, I'm pretty beat…do you think you could take me home?" When she hesitated, glaring from first Optimus and then to Jack, the young human decided to sweeten the deal, "What about a quick joy ride? See if we can't break your record?"

"Don't you dare, Arcee!" Ratchet spoke up, "You're still recovering from your injuries and if you so much as over work a single piston, I'll disable your voice-box for a month!"

Yet, Jack had succeeded, had offered her the one thing she couldn't resist, the one thing she needed at the moment: a chance to rebel, if just a little bit. Whatever further threats Ratchet had for Arcee as she scooped Jack up and transformed, Optimus did not hear, his mind already far from where he stood.

Away

Bulkhead was driving himself too hard…expecting too much too fast from his heavily damaged frame.

Away

It was a place where Optimus would not, could not let Bulkhead go…

Away...

But not out of reach, not beyond hope…

No, not away, never away…

A promise, a pledge that Optimus could make, could keep…

Hear me, old friend…let me bring you back…let me save you as you saved me…