Since this story got the best feedback I've ever had, here's another one-shot. It's set one and a half months before the last section of the last chapter.

PS. IDW elements snuck into the plot because MTMTE is intoxicating and I need a canon TFP/IDW crossover. But since I can't have one (yet) I'll have to make my own.

PPS. The Shelter was the first restored building in Iacon, it's the equivalent to a human four/five star hotel, so that it can house all the new arrivals. It's also air tight, so with Wheeljack, Ratchet and Knock Out's help they made an oxygen regulator. This allows the humans to take their spacesuits off while all the doors and windows are closed. Then I throw logics out the window and say they can survive for 15 seconds if a door leading outside is kept open. The second scene takes place in what is basically The Shelter's mess hall/rec. room, because it's the biggest room.

~Knock Out's POV~

The scanner beeps for the third time and I almost don't look at it, but as the humans say: "third time's the charm". I bite my lip, pushing away the urge to whimper from the fear that's throbbing through me. Just before I can look, I choke as my tank feels like it's flipping. Clutching my abdominal plating with my free servo, I lean on the medical berth and double over. I swallow in a frantic attempt to not throw up. It works, unlike the last twenty times, it works. I sink to my knees, resting my helm against the edge of berth as I concentrate on evening my intakes.

With a shaky sob I look at the scanner.

My denta clench as I leap to my pedes and hurl the device across the room. It slams against the wall and I spin away from it. My knees hit the ground again, forehelm resting on the medical berth once more. With a weak thump I hit the surface of it with my shaking fist. Don't cry. It's all a nightmare, it can't be true, Breakdown will wake you up soon. Don't cry.

"Knock Out?!" the med bay doors open and Ratchet comes storming in, "What's all this racket ab-..."

I want to stand, I want to run, I don't want to talk about it. Talking, unburying these dark secrets for the entire Universe to see, that's what makes it real. But the agony, it won't let me stand and it also won't let me talk. If I opened my mouth the only things that would come out are cries of pain and despair. Why now? After so long, why now? This pain, it feels just as raw as it did when it all happened. Joy ripped from my grasp too soon and yet too late that it had all sunk in, had clicked that it was real.

I know better now.

The Autobot walks over to the fallen scanner, the stupid thing is still in one piece, screen still bright and taunting. "What happened?"

Don't cry.

He picks the scanner up, I know exactly when he looks at it because it's rare for him to sound so surprised, "...Primus...you're-"

"Shut up!" I snarl, dragging my claws over the surface of the berth as I tremble and sob, "Just shut up! I know how to read the fragging thing!"

I can't.

I bend over, wrapping one arm around my chassis and covering my face with the other servo. Inside I struggle to hold back the tears, struggle to not scream.

"I take it you just found out for yourself," Ratchet murmurs as he puts the scanner on the bench and walks over to me.

"Terminate it."

He stops, "...What?"

"Get rid of it!" I dig my claws into my forehelm and side as the agony flares again, it's easier to deal with pain if it's physical, but then others can see it.

It's why I wax every orbital, why I buff my finish till it shines before I leave my quarters. Decepticons aren't meant to show pain. Couldn't let them see, couldn't let them know.

"...No."

"You're a medic!" I hiss, finally raising my helm and turning it to look at him, "It's your job to-"

"It's my damn job to heal others! Not kill innocent-"

"Fragging shut up!" I lunge up at him, claws ready to mangle his frowning face.

"Knock Out! Stop!" he catches my wrists and holds them in an iron grip, "Get ahold of yourself!"

I shutter my optics and bow my helm, shoulders hunching as my legs shake with protest from carrying more than my physical weight. The rage drains away as fast as it flared. Don't cry. Don't cry. His grip relaxes as he sees me calm down and I tug my servos away. My legs continue to quiver and I sit on the berth, covering my face with my servos. Ratchet sighs and sits on the other side with his back almost touching mine.

We sit there for a longtime, silent statues on the same cold base, save for my occasional whine and his soft huffs.

"Why don't you want it?" his tone is much gentler compared to before, he shifts behind me and I flinch as five digits curl over my shoulder plating.

"I...I can't," I swallow, voice coarse from withheld tears and the last bit of fight drains from my systems. I let the Universe see the darkness I've kept locked inside, "...I can't lose another one."

"Another? ...Oh, Primus...no..." He gets up and walks around to my side, sitting next to me and putting an arm around my shoulders, "It's okay to cry...I won't tell."

I let him pull me down with great care till my helm is laying on his lap and I pull my legs up onto the berth. The tears fall, my claws twitch and scratch at his legs on their own accord, but Ratchet doesn't complain. He just pets my side, rubs my audials and strokes my fin with his thumb. I cry and cry until I don't have any coolant left, yet still I sob, still I tremble. The older medic hushes me, comforts me, but never lies. Never does he say "It'll be okay" or "You're gonna be fine". I've heard those words before, lies, all of it lies. After a while I stop trembling, I stop scratching his paint. The only sounds that come out of my mouth are deep, shuddering intakes.

"Feeling a bit better now?" he murmurs as he rubs my twitching audial between his thumb and index digits.

I just nod in reply.

"Want me to comm Breakdown? Or don't you want him to know?"

I look up at him and sigh, "No, I'll do it."

~Breaky, you there?~

He answers immediately, sounding chirpy and upbeat, ~Knocks, what's up?~

The corner of my mouth curves up at the sound of his voice travelling through our Bond, ~We...could you come to the medical bay?~

~You okay?~

~I...I don't know, just come~

"Well?" Ratchet blinks and frowns.

"Yea, he's on his way," I mutter and turn away from him.

"I just need to know, before he gets here," the medic helps me sit back up and he stands, walking over to the cloth draw, "do you how he'll react?"

I give a sad chuckle, "He was over Lunar-One when he found out last time. I...I was indifferent on what happened to it, so his reaction swayed my decision on if I should keep it or not. I guess a lot of his joy rubbed off on me, because when...well, I don't know who reacted the most."

He hands me a cloth, "Did you sparkmerge around it?"

I frown and raise an optic ridge, "What? Why?"

"Well, a Bond is always formed after emergence. But if the Creators sparkmerge before the newspark moves into its frame then a basic Bond forms." he shrugs, "Common medic knowledge.

"I'm not a common medic," I huff, wiping the coolant off my face plates, "...And yes, we sparkmerged a fair few times... I think I lost count after the ninth one."

Ratchet sighs and crosses his arms, "Hmm, then that explains the severe level of grief. Seven merges is all that's needed to create a premature Bond. Anything afterwards only strengthens it."

"It never even got a frame," I mutter, tilting my helm to the side and wringing the cloth between my digits without thinking.

"Knocks," my mate's timing is, for once, impeccable as he rushes into the medical bay. He's by my side before the door even gets to close all the way, "Knocks, are you alright, you sounded up-"

"I'm fine," I smile, chuckling at his wide opticed, straight mouthed expression.

A heavy sensation in my Spark that I wasn't aware of lifts as he plonks his aft down beside me and drapes an arm around my shoulders. I grin and laugh again, sobbing at the same time as new tears well up in my optics. Breakdown wraps his other arm around my front and pulls me close. I tremble against his chassis and bring my legs back onto the berth.

I can't stop smiling. No matter what, the presence of my mate after I've had a scrappy day will always make me feel better.

"You don't seem fine," he says, stroking my fin with his three middle digits, just how I like it.

"Let's just say he's better than what he was," Ratchet smiles as I start to purr from the blue bruiser's comforting touch.

I look at the Prime's mate and he looks right back, expression asking a question too clear to be mistaken for any other.

Are you gonna tell him? Or am I?

"Ratchet, could you..." I bite my lip and clench my servos into fists for a moment, letting them relax as I sigh, "Could you get the scanner."

The medic doesn't even say anything, he just gets the scanner from the bench and hands it to me, screen facing the floor.

"Knock Out?" Breakdown raises an optic ridge and releases me from his arms.

I turn the screen away from him, checking to see if it still has the same reading on it. It's still there, bright and taunting. I tear the oncoming storm of pain apart instead of burying it for a later date. It's so small, must have happened within the last Earth week or two. It takes around four Earth days for one to appear, then another day for the Carrier to feel its energy signature.

My mate places a servo on my shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts. I gasp, clutching the scanner to my chassis and taking a deep breath, preparing myself for the inevitable.

To be honest, I have no idea how to break it to him other than giving him the device and saying: "Here."

He reaches for it, but hesitates, "Please don't tell me you have Cybercrosis."

I give him a sad smile, "No..." then shove it into his servos, "j-just take it."

Breakdown looks at the screen, frowning in confusion. After a few seconds realisation dawns on his face plates, "Oh."

His EM field broadcasts an emotional cocktail of shock, pain, confusion, nostalgia and a faint buzz of joy. He looks at the scanner for a longtime and the only change in his expression is the slow, constant chewing of his lower lip.

Finally, he takes a deep breath and looks at me, "Um...are you gonna keep it?"

The combination of the lost look in his single optic, the flutter of joy in his field; the broken static buried under his sad tone and the very question itself...

The very question itself.

After everything he did last time. He was the one who kept bounding up to me with a scanner five times an orbital to see it move in my Spark chamber. Was the one who scolded me every time I did anything even the slightest bit strenuous. The one who bombarded me with ideas for names at least four times every orbital. He did all that as well as so much more, every gesture filled my Spark with happiness and excitement at the thought of being a Creator... This time the very first thing he says to me, the very first thing he asks me, is if I want to keep it.

It all breaks my Spark, but I can't bring myself to lie to him.

"I...I don't know yet."

There's a small pause, then Ratchet speaks up, "Can I take a moment to say my two credits worth?"

"Hmm," I look at him and lift an optic ridge, "What?"

"Okay, just hear me out," he puts a servo on his hip and sighs, "I know you're not the most selfless mech around, but I also know you're not the most selfish."

I frown, wondering where he's heading with this, "Go on."

"It's just," he shrugs, yet his expression is that of a determined mech plotting to get his way no matter what, "while there has been a few new arrivals and only a small number of Sparks have a new frame, there hasn't been a sparkling born the early days of the war. Bumblebee and Smokescreen were two of the last sparklings born who are still alive today."

Oh, I think I have an idea of where this is going now. I open my mouth to protest, but Ratchet holds a servo up.

"Ah yep, yep, yep," always with the 'yep', it really grinds my gears, "Now just hold it for a moment and let me finish. As I was saying, there hasn't been a sparkling born since the early days of the war. It wasn't on anyone's mind a few months ago, but the other day I heard some of the new arrivals muttering about why we're even rebuilding and yesterday Optimus brought up the lack of sparklings in one of our conversations."

"Did he ask if you wanted one?" I chuckle.

That throws the medic off guard, "Ah, n-no, actually," he growls and shakes his helm, "Look, what I'm trying to say is you have no idea how high it'll lift everyone's spirits and how much hope you'll give them if they knew you're sparked. A sparkling is new life Knock Out, new life is the ultimate symbol of renewal, of a fresh start for Cybertron. It's basically a message saying: yes, we can start again. Why do you think the soldiers from both factions fought so hard? Because they knew that if they won, they'd be clearing the way for the next generation to do it right their time. Well, there hasn't been a next generation since before Cybertron went dark."

For a while there's silence. Breakdown shifts a little and looks hopeful. I glare at Ratchet as he glares back.

The Autobot is the one to break the still air, "My point is: just this once, this one time, do something for our entire race, Knock Out. Be the one to give them hope. They've fought for so long, now all the fighting's stopped and they're beginning to wonder why they even bothered. By the Pit, I even heard a Decepticon talking a few days ago about how he was there when Megatron took down the Senate. He was regretting having ever picked up his rifle, even though his own brother was killed by the very ones who made him want to pick it up."

I sigh and look at my pedes, "I really don't know."

Ratchet steps forward and takes my servo in his, "Please, give them the hope that they need now more than ever. I know it's a lot to ask, but I'm certain that everyone, Decepticon and Autobot alike, will help raise it. I know you don't owe them anything, so do it for the future of Cybertron, for your home...for your sparkling."

"That's all the updates there are for this week," Prowl finally finishes just as I'm about drift off into a peaceful recharge.

I groan and shift my helm, trying to find a more comfortable position for it on Breakdown's lap and I end up staring at the ceiling. My mate begins to stroke my fin to try and sooth my racing Spark, but all it does is stop my servos from trembling.

"Does anyone have anything else to add?"

"Yep, yep, yep," so annoying, "I've got something."

The Praxian steps aside, "Do you need me or..?"

"As a medic I'd advise you to sit down," Ratchet chuckles, looking quite eager to give his announcement, "I don't want you crashing, because I'm not up for dragging your aft all the way down to the medical bay again."

Prowl sulks - or at least he sulks in the usual, undramatic Prowl-like manner - his way back into the crowd and sits bedside his mate, "I don't crash that much."

Jazz laughs and gives his mate a playful elbow to the waist, "Five times in the past orn is a record for you, Sweetspark. I'd say you're simply upset that Ratch' just stole your thunder."

Everyone chuckles and a few bots start muttering. Miko moves to a better spot so she can continue to take photos with her cellphone. June chuckles as Jack and Raf follow her, the older male makes a futile attempt at getting the young female to sit still. She just snaps at him and goes back to photographing.

"Alright, calm down everyone," Ratchet tries to sound stern, but the faint grin on his face doesn't help. As soon as the room is still once more he claps his servos together and nods, "Thank you. Right then, I know you've all been talking and muttering while you work to rebuild Iacon, all the gossip was about random topics at first. Recently, however, I keep hearing one topic popping up in even the most simplest of smalltalk. The same topic that, for very good reason, is planting worry into all our Sparks... Sparklings."

The muttering starts again, this time the air of the entire room is grimmer and void of all hope. The single word, which once meant nothing but pure joy so long ago, now forms a heavy burden on everyone's shoulders. I hadn't noticed it until now, but it really is a pressing matter. Some of the Sparks asked for a new frame to be built for them, like Cliffjumper and Tailgate. But a vast majority wanted no part in helping their own species rebuild. Because they didn't want to watch the Decepticons and the Autobots tear each other apart all over again. So a lot of them returned to the Well, to save themselves from the disappointment.

Case in point, we're still tilting towards the brink of extinction.

"However," the medic gets the room's attention once more, some look at him with confused expressions, while others stare on in hope, "there has been...a new development concerning the subject of discussion."

"What's a sparkling?" Miko suddenly calls out, shattering the tense air.

"I think humans call them...um..." Bulkhead scratches the back of his head and frowns, "Uh...you know, the little humans that haven't learnt how to use their legs yet."

"Wait," Jack holds his hands up as his eyes widen, "you mean...babies? As in...you guys can...reproduce?"

"Of course we can," Ratchet huffs, "What? Did you think we all simply hopped out of the Well of Allsparks one fine morning and jumped into a frame that just happened to be lying around?"

~Well...this just got awkward~ Breakdown mutters.

~More like hilarious~ I struggle to not grin like an idiot at the flustered and confused humans.

"Right...now that that's taken care of-"

"How are they made?"

"Let's not go there, Miko!" Ratchet's cheek plates go from white to light blue in a matter of nanokliks, "Really...that's not for here."

~You do realise he's glancing at us~ I chuckle

~Yea, got an idea on what he's thinking?~ the corners of Wrecker's mouth twitch as he tries to repress a grin.

~I think you already know what that idea is~

~Sure do~

"Please," Ratchet sighs and rubs his forehelm, "just listen, you've already ruined the mood as it is."

"Well, I'm sorry for being curious about how an alien race lives," the female huffs and crosses her arms.

The medic ignores her and attempts to salvage the gripping air from before, "As I was saying, there has been a recent development in this point of discussion. I've been told very explicitly that I'm not allowed to name anyone. However, I can tell you this... There is someone, in this very room, who is..." he pauses, letting the tension gather till it snaps and he gives the crowd a broad smile, "Carrying."

I swear it feels like the floor itself vibrates from the sudden uproar. Some stare in shock, others cry out for a name and some speculate on who it is. As usual, Miko's voice is the loudest, even though she sits among titans.

"Who's the lucky lady?!"

I'm glad for the noise, because the snort of laughter I give is one of the most undignified sounds I've ever made. Ratchet waits this time for the crowd to settle, which takes a good five minutes, then his smile becomes a grim line set on his face.

"I just want to say a few things," the muttering stops and once again the attention of the room is in the medic's palm, "This bot wants to remain anonymous for now, this is because they want you all to be aware of something before they get swamped with congratulations and such. They wanted me to tell you that this...is not their first time carrying."

"There's a 'but' in there, isn't there?" Agent Fowler calls out.

"Yes," Ratchet sighs, "It's not their first time carrying. But hopefully, this second time around, it'll be the first to live."

The air becomes grim and solemn all of a sudden. Breakdown's optic widens and I fight back the tears as I feel what he does. EM fields, every single bot's EM field reaching out and touching everyone else. Both Autobots and Decepticons alike, all murmuring the same message in this silent room: We are here for you, you are not alone this time.

"Can...can I just say something?" Jazz gets up and strides to the front of the room, Ratchet moves to the side to allow him to take centre stage, "Now, I know that all of us are thinking the same thing. I know that deep down, no matter how hard we try to hide it, we're all thinking: why are you bringing a sparkling into a post-war world? Well screw that, because why not try again after losing so much in one Sparkbreaking moment?"

He let's the words settle as everyone shifts with discomfort.

Then he continues, "I've seen my fair share of soldiers experience a miscarriage. I've seen some who tear out their own gestation chamber so they never have to go through it again, some who terminate it if they get sparked again. By the Pit, I've seen friends self-terminate because they couldn't take the grief. I want the bot in this room who never did any of those things to hear me out. On behalf of Cybertron, on behalf of our entire race and on behalf of all those brave warriors who gave their lives because they dreamt of this day: Thank you for being the first to step up and restart our race, for giving us something that'll brighten our future. I say this without giving any frags as to whether you were an Autobot or a Decepticon. Just...thanks."

I sit up and give a few deep vents, ~I can't stay silent any more~

Breakdown puts his servo on mine, ~I'm right here~

Over the cheering and clapping of the crowd I manage to yell, "You know what Jazz," a few close by bots turn to look at me, but I ignore them, "I was gonna keep everyone guessing," some more helms turn, "but because of that beautiful speech," half the room is looking at me now, "I'll tell you all," all optics on me, "that I'm the bot you're talking to."

I felt like it should end there, so don't accuse me of anything! Next up we'll most likely be seeing Megatron.