A/N: teeny, tiny epilogue for you. The next instalment of this fic will be along some time in the early new year (January/February, I think). Thanks for reading!
Arc 1: 'Tis the season
Epilogue: A time for hating and fighting to cease
The first hint they got that something had changed was when Skywarp overtook Bumblebee on patrol, and instead of shooting at him merely dipped his wings once and then changed direction. Then, a week or so later, Mirage was discovered while infiltrating the Nemesis – only, instead of being attacked, he was invited back to the Constructicons' cabins for some high-grade. A few weeks after that, Laserbeak could be seen leaving the Ark rec room quietly before first shift, Trailbreaker escorting him to the front exit with a small smile on his face.
It was all enough to make Prowl's tactical computer calculate in new and interesting ways, suddenly seeing a different future than was probable just a few months earlier.
And when the Decepticons finally acted up again, attacking an oil refinery about a month after Christmas, Prowl asked Prime to give the order that none were to fire at the Decepticons unless they fired first.
And, almost miraculously, not a single shot was fired. Instead, Prime had intercepted Megatron and asked him to desist. And Megatron had smirked and ordered a retreat, looking at Bumblebee as he did.
Poor Red Alert landed himself in the med bay again after that, processor glitching. After so many years of seeing Decepticon threats everywhere, them not being a threat for once almost undid him. And for once, Ratchet wasn't upset about it, merely treated Red Alert with his usual care and much less than his usual gruffness.
Of course, that may well have had something to do with the cube of glowing vintage high-grade sitting on the desk in his office. It had appeared there a few days earlier, with a signed note courtesy of the Decepticon spymaster. 'Until next time,' the note said.
A different future indeed.
