Second Chapter! :)

Silverstreak stared down into his energon miserably, hiding in the dark corner. He didn't feel like he needed the energy provided by the delicious drink, but it gave him an excuse to just stay out of his room and away from Bumblebee. The yellow mech seemed distant from him lately. It was if he didn't understand where Silverstreak was coming from. Besides, he was angry that the young mech had attacked Optimus.

Just the thought of the Prime made the boy's anger burn hot. Optimus had taken away something that he took great delight in. It had been taken away for an undetermined amount of time. Optimus had told him that he could not go into battle with the Decepticons until he could control himself. It wasn't fair! Silverstreak could control himself as well as any mech could in most situations. It was just the cruelty of humans that had him hurting people.

He growled and stood, ignoring the energon. He needed to get out of the base. Just to get away from everybody. He rushed through the halls and into the open air. He hurried towards the forest and relaxed when he got into the shadows of the trees. It was good to be alone again. Sudden tiredness engulfed him and he went to his little clearing and relaxed against a tall tree. He closed his eyes and relaxed.

There was a young looking mech sitting alone, looking up to the stars. Soft whines escaped his vocalizer and he placed his head in his hands. He sighed softly and looked back up.

"Primus, please, please send us somebody who'll understand us, somebody who'll lead us. Somebody we can trust. Somebody like this Optimus Prime we keep hearing about from the older mechs. And, if it's not too much to ask, please let him be nice. We need somebody nice."

Silverstreak awoke suddenly to the sound of sirens and leaped up eagerly, ready to fight…Oh wait, he couldn't. He growled and sullenly walked back to base, where the Autobots had already loaded up and gone. He walked to his room and settled on the berth after grabbing a book to read. He was bored almost immediately and quickly fell asleep again; he had nothing better to do.

This time when he woke up, it was to Bumblebee limping into the room, his expression dark. Silverstreak refused to look at the large mech and instead turned to face away from him. Bumblebee snorted.

"Oh, come now, Sam," he said irritably. "I know you're upset you couldn't come, but you could at least ask how it went."

"I don't really care," Silverstreak lied, his voice angry.

"Sam," Bumblebee admonished, sitting on the berth. "Talk to me. Believe it or not, I can understand. Back when the war first began, I wasn't allowed to fight. I was only a youngling."

Silverstreak sat up and spun to look at his guardian. "Youngling? Is that what this is about?"

"What?"

"It's because I'm a youngling, isn't it? Well?" Silverstreak demanded.

"It…well, yes. That's part of the reason. You put yourself in extremely dangerous situations when you're fighting and we are all worried about you," Bumblebee admitted.

"You know what?" Silverstreak asked coldly. "Just frag off."

"Sam!"

"No, I'm tired of being treated like a youngling. I can't help that I am one, but I was human and humans mature much faster than mechs!"

"You were just a teenager, Sam!"

"I'm over twenty human years old now!"

"That's a newborn babe by our time!"

"Oh, so now I'm nothing but a baby?!"

"That's not what I said!"

"Um, are we interrupting something?" a hesitant voice asked.

Silverstreak and Bumblebee turned to see First Aid standing in the open doorway, Blaster and Cliffjumper standing wide-eyed behind him.

"What the hell do you want?" Silverstreak demanded, his optics flaring as he crossed his arm and purposefully looked away from Bumblebee.

"Optimus wants to speak to everybody, including you," First Aid replied slowly.

"Yeah? Well I don't want to speak to him!" Silverstreak spat. "I don't even want to see him!"

Bumblebee finally lost his temper. "You are going and that is final!"

The yellow mech snatched Silverstreak up and strode out of the room, the other three following and whispering to each other in Cybertronian about what was going on with the boy and his guardian.

"I've never seen them fight like this before," First Aid murmured.

"I know. I don't know what to think about it. If they aren't careful, one of them is going to get hurt," Blaster whispered back.

"And it'll probably be Bumblebee," Cliffjumper replied.

They all looked at each other and knew that it probably would be Bumblebee that would get hurt. Silverstreak had more power than most mechs. In fact, the only mechs that matched his strength and ability would be Optimus and maybe Ironhide.

Meanwhile, Silverstreak was struggling violently in Bumblebee's grasp, doing everything he could to break the grip, but the yellow mech knew just how to hold him that he couldn't break out, no matter how strong he was. The only thing he could do to get out would be to shock his guardian, and as angry as he was at Bumblebee, he didn't want to hurt him.

He finally gave up and glared viciously at any Autobot that passed them and had the audacity to look at him. Optimus looked surprised when they got to the rec. room.

"Why are you carrying Silverstreak like that?"

"Because he wouldn't come willingly," Bumblebee snapped, giving Silverstreak a threatening squeeze before throwing him onto a table none too gently.

"Glitch head," Silverstreak muttered, standing and childishly crossing his arms.

"Shut up, Silverstreak," Bumblebee snapped.

Something inside the silver boy broke in that moment. Bumblebee always, always called him Sam. Though Silverstreak had always pretended to be annoyed by it, it had grown on him over the years, and now that Bumblebee had broken that close friendship bond, he lost it.

"Go to the Pit, Bee," he spat, his hands sparking as his temper flared.

"Oh big surprise," Bumblebee said sarcastically. "The silver freak can't control himself. You know, this is why you're always in trouble. You're immature and irresponsible, just like younglings. I'm glad I never was a youngling."

"But you told me-"

"Yes, and I was created as a mechling, not a youngling. Mechlings are young adults by your standards, and though we still aren't fully mature, I was more mature than you!"

"Oh, so I'm the freak? You didn't even have a childhood," Silverstreak growled, well aware of the many pairs of optics on them.

"Yeah? So what? It doesn't seem like I missed much. The war destroyed our home, and your home is still intact. You will never know what it is like to miss Cybertron. You are an Earthling! Not a Cybertronian!"

"You are dead wrong, you yellow-bellied, glitch-headed, slagger! I can and do miss Cybertron. It was a whole hell of a lot better there!"

"Oh? And why is that?" Bumblebee asked, his voice mocking.

"Because you and Optimus weren't there!"

That shut the yellow mech up and he just stared at the silver boy in the dead silence of the room. A soft whine escaped his vocalizer and he began intaking air heavily.

"You don't mean that, Silverstreak," Optimus said, walking forward and standing beside Bumblebee.

"I do to!" Silverstreak growled. "And you know what else? I wish I was still on Cybertron! I wish that there were other younglings that would actually get what it's like living in the fragged up world that you left for them! I want to go home!"

There was a crack and a flash of light and Silverstreak was suddenly falling. He gasped and tried to grab onto something, anything, but there was simply nothing but air. He fell for about five minutes before landing, surprisingly gently, with a grunt on something slanted. He slid down and landed on the ground….only it wasn't the ground he was used to. It was…metal!

"Cybertron!" he exclaimed in Cybertronian. "I'm home!"

He leaped up and happily celebrated his escape from Optimus and Bumblebee for a moment, relishing his freedom, then there was a noise and he froze and hid, sparks rising to his fingers in defense. He saw the mech from his vision and tilted his head curiously. What? Was he a…?

"H-hello?" the mech asked nervously, speaking in the only language the mech knew. "Is somebody there?"

Silverstreak debated his options before speaking up. "Autobot or Decepticon?"

"Um, well, I'm not allowed to fight. Ultra Magnus says so, but if I had to choose…Autobot," he said, looking around.

The sparks died down as Silverstreak stepped out and the mech's optics widened.

"What are you?"

"I am…different," Silverstreak replied, loathing how human he looked. "My designation is Silverstreak. Yours?"

"I am…Mirage."