Whoa~ I have got to say, I was so stunned by the reviews for the last chapter that there was no way I couldn't respond to them all! For all the love you've shown me, I have to give it right back to you! XD Each and every single one of you made my week-long vacation at my grandparents' so much better! I swear, your reviews inspired me to work as hard as I could to get this chapter out. It's a quiet chapter, but it boasts of necessary reintroductions to some very familiar characters we will be seeing from now on. =) So, for your reading enjoyment, I present you to the latest chapter of May We Never Let Go!

But before that- here's Thank You Corner! 8D

Renegadewriter8- The plot is only beginning to thicken, my friend. There is more to come, I promise. =P

Flameshield- Oh my gosh, I love the "Who's on First" comedy sketch! 8D I wasn't thinking of that when I wrote the Nothing scene, though. =P Nemesis calling himself Nothing is actually a play on Psi calling himself No One in Surface of the Sun. Both characters like to mess with peoples' minds. XD

Juzu- You're very right, my friend- Sam has a nasty habit of over doing things. He's gotta learn to hold some things back before he hurts himself. .

Balrog Roike- Give ol' Nemesis Prime a little bit of time to establish himself, my dear. =P If he learns anything from hanging out with the Fallen, it will definitely be how to be creepy. XD Although, he may never be able to match the Fallen's/No One's epic creepiness... O_o You're definitely right about Bumblebee not listening to his "brother"... Nemesis may not be very badass yet, but he surely isn't someone you should trust, either. . Hopefully BB never took anything to spark. _

KyuubiSango- There certainly is a connection between Bumblebee and Nemesis Prime, since their origins are so similar, but whatever becomes of them in the future... only time will tell. O_o T

Phoebe Turner- Thanks so much~!

Cynthia- You just got to keep cheering for the good guys, my friend. It may seem like the universe is against them (which it pretty much is), but they're still going to put up one hell of a fight! =D

Bluebird Soaring- Cliffhangers are to much fun not to use, my dear! XD Sam doesn't know when to quit, that's for sure. Poor guy is going to get himself in a spot he can't get out of one of these days. =( As for Bee accepting Sam as his brother, he announced it in the epilogue of As We Come Together. Those two are basically family now. =)

1bloodtempest- Sorry about the cliffhanger, my friend- they happen to be my dirty little pleasure. XD If they do their job to entice readers to come back for more, then all the better! ^_^ If you enjoyed the Twins' interaction of the last chapter and are curious to see what has become of Sam and the others, then this is definitely the chapter for you! 8D

Dazja- I think Bumblebee would really like to know exactly where he came from right now, too. XD Oh well, you'll both find out sooner or later. =P

TheBluePaintedWeirdo- Oh no, my dear- Sam isn't dead (yet). I like him too much to kill him (right now). ^_^ I'm really glad that you like how I've evolved his character into the man he is now. Miles will be showing up this chapter and I do hope you like him, too. He's such a fun character- so easy to write. He's a little more mature, like everyone else, but he's still the Miles Lancaster we know and love. =)

Chloo- Sam still has his issues with being human and losing his humanity, but he's definitely grown up to the point where he's not afraid to sacrifice himself for his friends and family. He'll push himself as far as he can go just so long as he can make sure everyone is safe. =) But once again, you have stunned me with your incredible insightfulness: I am indeed building Nemesis Prime as an intelligent enemy. Perhaps a little more coherent than Psi, but definitely a twisted, evil figure nonetheless. _

Eerie Iri- Thanks so much, my dear! I'm glad that Nemesis's interaction with Bumblebee has intrigued you. There will be more to come, I promise. =P

Sebastian Nyte- It sounds like you really enjoyed everything in the chapter! Thanks so much for reviewing~ I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much. ^_^

My usual love to FunkyFish1991 for her efforts in editing, even though she's away on vacation and should be vacationing rather than editing. That just goes to show how awesome she is. I mean is when I say she is the Johnny Quick to my Flash... in that we both look good in spandex. XD

Read, Review, & Enjoy~

May We Never Let Go
To Return Home

"Okay, try that."

Sunstreaker carefully tried to roll his shoulder, halting halfway through the motion with a grimace. In his shoulder, something made an angry grinding noise. "There's something still jamming the joint."

Bumblebee sat back with a sigh, rubbing his forehead where his armour had stained black. "I've tried everything to fix it. Ratchet will have to take a look at it when we land."

Sunstreaker nodded solemnly, gripping the joint. With the neural relays off, he wasn't in any discomfort. He only found it bothersome to be handicapped in such a way. Not that his was the worst of the group's damages.

"I got dibs on Ratchet first," Sideswipe intoned from his spot nearby, his back planted against the inner walls of the cargo plane. "At least you still have both your arms, bro. I need a whole new one."

"If you wouldn't keep losing that arm, you wouldn't be having this problem," Sunstreaker said with a shake of his head.

The red warrior pouted. "I keep telling you, it's not my fault! Ever since Uni-aft rusted my arm off, it's like I'm cursed! Seriously! Cursed!" He waved his one remaining arm around. "It's not like I go into battle looking to have it torn off! It just happens!"

"Whiner," the golden mech snorted.

"I can still hit you with one arm, Sunny- don't tempt me to do it," Sideswipe warned.

"Try it and I'll rip that arm off and hit you back with it," Sunstreaker replied, casting his brother a challenging grin.

Bumblebee frowned, dropping his hand from his forehead in order to fix the pair with a dark stare. "Stop it, the both of you. It's bad enough right now without listening to you."

Hound glanced up from the souvenirs he was trying to sort into two piles. "Don't make me stick you two in separate corners."

Sunstreaker wrinkled his olfactory sensor. He was tired, filthy, and looked like death warmed over; he was so not in the mood for being treated like a sparkling. He shot a glance to his brother, who shrugged complacently and went back to poking at his armless shoulder.

Hound eyed them both carefully before returning to his previous task, obviously satisfied that he wasn't going to have to enforce his threat.

Bumblebee gave an annoyed sigh, turning over to crawl his way back to his staked out spot in the cargo hold of the plane. He sat as close as possible to Sam's stationary body where it rested on a cot bolted to the floor. The human was in a death-like state, his breathing barely noticeable and his heartbeats almost negligible. The tan he had developed over the month was washed out by the pallid look of his skin underneath. There was no way of telling when he would come out of stasis. Sometimes it was as short as an hour, and other times it could be as long as several months. It had already been two weeks since the incident at Merowe Dam and there was still no change in the human.

As Bumblebee settled down, he cast Sunstreaker a strange look. Sunstreaker snorted, realizing he'd been staring at the scout. He quickly looked away, sliding back into his own designated spot in the cargo hold. The wall was solid against his back. For something to do, he dragged his maintenance kit out from subspace and once again began the tedious task of making himself look presentable. With the state he was in, the effort was almost laughable.

Tension remained heavy in the belly of the EDC plane.

Merowe ended up being yet another fiasco to crucify the Cybertronians with. Even though the Autobots had stuck around for two freaking weeks to help with cleanup and install the promised anti-leech and anti-kremzeek protection, humans still looked at the sorry amount of structural damage caused by the fight and shook their heads at it. Sure, Sunstreaker and the others had risked their lives to keep the dam from crumbling. They had fought a small army of freaks to keep the people safe. Hell, Sam had risked the most out of all of them by going Allspark on everyone's afts. But did any of that matter in the face of a couple million dollars worth of collateral? No.

Ungrateful organic fraggers.

Sunstreaker couldn't count the number of times he'd been tempted to simply drop the chunk of concrete he was lifting onto the nearest sneering news reporter. Or he could have pushed Sideswipe onto one of the news vans incessantly rolling around their feet. Even a good old localized EMP blast would have been nice. Anything to scatter the humans. Yeah, that would have only made things worse in the long run, but the instant gratification it would have served would have been nice.

Was a thank you too much to ask for?

Only Samir had been tolerable, offering them refuge at his own small oasis of a house. His garage had thankfully been large enough to fit them all. Sam's body had been hidden in a bedroom of the Amal household where no one would see him in his current state. Not having their human ambassador around to make a statement over the attack had been bad. Having the whole planet aware that Sam was locked in a coma for an undetermined amount of time? It would have been so much worse.

And then there was Bumblebee's recent behaviour...

Acting strange was an understatement in regards to Bumblebee as of late. Whatever had happened between him and the Nemesis figure must have been big. Traumatizing, in fact. The minibot refused to talk about it. He reported only what was necessary; what Nemesis's designation was; Nemesis's alliance with the Fallen, and by extension with Unicron; the brief battle waged between Nemesis and himself. He avoided optic contact when speaking of the events, evading questions that asked about what Bumblebee spoke about with the new threat. Not to mention the new stain the scout was sporting on his forehead. It looked like nothing more than a black oil smudge, yet it resisted all conventional methods of removal. It was sunk right into the metal itself.

A tickle in the back of his mind announced Sideswipe's approach. Red armour appeared in the periphery before a smiling faceplate came into view leaning in a little too close.

"Need a hand?" Sideswipe offered, nodding to the wedge and magnet Sunstreaker held in his hands, inevitably to be used to help pop out his remaining dents.

Sunstreaker cocked an optic ridge. "Sure."

"Well, so do I! Need a hand, that is!" Sideswipe laughed, wiggling his armless-handless-shoulder.

"Brilliant," Sunstreaker replied flatly.

"I thought it was," Sideswipe chirped happily.

"It was funnier the first seven times," sighed the golden mech with a roll of his optics.

"If I didn't lose my arm so often, you wouldn't hear the jokes so much. But, seeing as my damn arm is cursed-," Sideswipe finished with a gesture of frustration that was supposed to convey both his annoyance at the situation and his determination to make everyone else suffer right along with him.

Sunstreaker, of course, had no need for the gestures. He understood just fine without them; he knew his brother's increasing irritation, felt it. If Earth had done anything for them since they landed, it had certainly brought them closer than they had been in eons.

Done with his theatrics, the red twin sagged. "And since popping out dents is a two-handed job, mind letting me do something less intensive? I could totally wipe you down or help get sand out of your armour."

"How about I pop a few of your dents out instead?" Sunstreaker offered, nodding to the space in front of him in invitation. "You could definitely use a..."

Sideswipe's mouthplates twitched. "Just say it."

A crooked half-smile appeared across the golden mech's handsome mouthplates. "You could use a hand."

"It's almost funnier when you say it," his twin snorted, scooting around so he sat facing his brother.

"That's because I'm not saying it every day." Sunstreaker eyed the damages his brother sported, familiar with what he saw and not liking any of it. The majority of it was on his front, the armour riddled with pockmarks and dents. Some dents were beginning to pop out on their own, but the deeper ones would need a little assistance. There hadn't been a lot of time in between cleaning up Merowe Dam and fending off news reporters for proper maintenance.

The next little while was spent in relative silence while the twins worked on each other. Thy managed to get through dents, wipe downs, and even a bit of polish for Sunstreaker before the end of their flight. Bumblebee did little except for occasionally run his fingers over Sam's body in reassurance that the human was okay. His aloofness kept him cut off from the others, a behaviour that the scout had never exhibited before. Hound was the least solemn of the group, now content with his piles of souvenirs sorted for his humans. He tucked it all away in subspace and managed to half-doze where he sat, head bobbing absently along with the country music he was listening to in his head.

It was another joor before the intercom crackled to life and the voice of the pilot came through.

"Everyone still alive back there?" asked the human.

"We're dying of boredom," Sideswipe replied easily.

"You're about to be a little less bored," informed the pilot. "I just thought I'd let you all know that we're coming up on the rifts. We'll be crossing them in a few minutes."

"Oh, joy," sighed the red Autobot, embodying the collective opinion of his comrades. Didn't matter how many times you crossed them, the rifts still made you want to purge. Actually, sometimes it really did make you purge.

Hound stretched out of his doze, groaning. "Thanks for the warnin'."

"No problem." The intercom died, their exclusive EDC pilot no doubt preparing himself for the unpleasant experience.

Sunstreaker leaned back against the cargo bay walls to brace himself, as did everyone else. True to their pilot's warning, an intense wave of nausea hit the Autobots shortly afterwards. They didn't have a lot of energon in their tanks, so were thankfully spared the indignity of involuntarily purging. Sunstreaker closed his optics and placed his hand over his mouthplates just in case, dragging deep breaths of stuffy, warm air through his vents. It was pit waiting for the feeling to pass.

Unicron's mark on the planet was as strong as the day he'd made it, and still about as welcome as rust spots.

The rift appeared to take its toll on Sam, as well. His bright eyes shot open, a raspy breath desperately sucked in before he twisted to the side and expelled the contents of his stomach. He hadn't eaten in two weeks, so the only thing to come up was bright yellow stomach acid. He threw himself back into his cot, panting hard.

Sunstreaker regarded the mess with barely veiled disgust. Just because the human happened to contain the Allspark's energy didn't mean he got a pass for all the gross things humans did. Purging in Cybertronians was so much cleaner; at least they could recycle the energon.

"Welcome back," Bumblebee murmured quietly, withdrawing Sam's canteen from subspace.

Sam merely groaned, grabbing the canteen and draining its stale contents desperately. Once done, he was once again on his back, panting harshly. His trembling was obvious enough to the Cybertronians who watched him. He looked especially weak to them, so small and mortal.

"How are your ears?" Hound enquired, leaning in to get a better look at the human. He even scanned the boy as a courtesy.

"Fine," Sam rasped. "I can hear just fine now." As if anyone expected any less. The Allspark was as much a healing force as it was a destructive one; sometimes it was both at the same time. Sam cleared his dry throat, meeting the gazes of the four Autobots in his company. He could see their discomfort. "We crossed the rift, I take it?"

"Yes, we'll be landing soon," Bumblebee informed.

"Home," Sam groaned appreciatively, daring a weak smile.

Bumblebee stroked his friend across the chest. "Thank you for risking so much to save me."

"Anytime." The human grimaced, clearing his throat. "Last thing I remember is you going over the ledge into the ravine. Anything I should know about now? Has anyone declared war on us?"

"You've been in stasis for two weeks," Bumblebee said. "Samir was very kind to us, though. He let us hide your body at his house."

Sam's cheeks stained pink. "That's, uh, good…" If there was anything the human hated most about his condition, it was the death-lock that followed any great show of power. It made him nervous to leave his body so vulnerable. He gave a distracting cough. "Is there, um- anything else I should know?"

"New freak on the block, calls himself Nemesis," Sideswipe chirped. "Kind of looks like Prime, but I say he's an upgraded version of a leech. No spark resonance, you know? Freaky fragger."

"I see…" Sam replied, raking his memory for any evidence of seeing Nemesis. He had a vague idea of something dark going over the edge with Bumblebee.

"Earth hates us again," Sunstreaker intoned flatly. "We saved their fragging dam and they're pissed at us for all the damage."

"That's nothing new," sighed the human. "Thanks for catching me up." He pushed himself to sit up, falling once when his arms gave out from underneath him. Bumblebee reached out to help his friend. Sunstreaker watched the scout carefully for a moment, arching an optic ridge. Bumblebee appeared to be in a better mood now that Sam was awake.

A jolt rattled the plane, announcing tyres hitting the tarmac. They ground to a slow halt and were forced to wait for the hatch to drop so they could disembark. Sunstreaker looked down at himself with a great degree of consternation. He looked a wretched mess. Even with all the work he and Sideswipe had put into fixing up his armour, he still wasn't up to his own high standards.

Sideswipe gave him a light nudge. "Just grin and bear it, Sunny."

The hatch touched down and revealed their welcoming party. Ratchet was the first to be seen, looking his usual stern self. Scans cast the gloom in shades of bright blue as the mech immediately went into medic mode, searching every little detail for what could be wrong. The next two to come into sight were a pair of humans. Reginald Simmons was no longer a pompous, know-it-all Sector Seven agent; he was now the pompous, know-it-all EDC director of cover ups. If something happened that the humans shouldn't know about, he was there to make everything disappear. The job was good for him, making use of his considerable areas of expertise. The downside of it all was that it also tended to make his sense of self-worth bloat to ridiculous proportions.

Next to the quintessential dark suit, black tie, polished shoes, and omnipresent cup of coffee Simmons donned, the human next to him was a splash of bright colour in scuffed sneakers, faded jeans, and a graphic t-shirt featuring two robots in an interesting pose with the words ROBUTT SEX emblazoned across the top. It was a shirt guaranteed to offend every Cybertronian to see it, yet Miles Lancaster wore it happily. Whereas Simmons acted as the behind the scenes guy for the transformers (and the occasional other alien species), Miles took on the considerable mantle of Public Relations- at least where the Nevadan base and its inhabitants were concerned.

Unconcerned with the welcoming party, Sunstreaker stretched and made his way out into the cool night. According to his chronometer, it was roughly ten at night. The stars were bright above them, the sky as clear and sharp as gleaming opal. Sideswipe followed out at his shoulder, trotting in his own nonchalant way. Hound loped behind the pair, peering over their heads to feed his insatiable sense of curiosity. Bumblebee was the last, waiting for Sam to gain his own feet before moving anywhere.

On the other side of the tarmac, a blazing red Ford Mustang honked its horn before transforming. A handsome Autobot came to his feet; no taller than 15 feet, he was powerfully built with a thrusting chest and broad shoulders.

"Looking good there, Sunny," Cliffjumper goaded, snickering as he gave the golden mech a once over.

Sunstreaker bristled, directing an incendiary glare at the minibot. "Come over here and I'll make you look even better."

The red mech looked tempted, but shot a glance to Ratchet and thought better of the offer. "Maybe next time, Sunshine. I got better things to do."

"Like what? Get trampled beneath everyone's feet, Shortie?" Sideswipe shot back, instantly to the defence of his brother.

Cliffjumper laughed, still walking away. "Look who's talking, gimpy!"

Now both twins bristled, long standing grudges with the minibot rekindled in an instant. As far as either twin was concerned, they could pick on each other as much as they pleased, but everyone else only did so at their own risk. Ratchet was smart to intercept them before things got ugly. He gave a short, sharp screech similar to what he would have used in the Youth Sectors to distract rowdy younglings, and then gave the interloping Mustang a hard look.

"Move along, Cliffjumper," he ordered sharply, which got the bot moving a whole lot faster. With the chance of a fight now gone, the twins deflated.

"Home sweet home," Sam sighed tiredly, scrubbing his face with his palm. Living with Autobots was not for everyone.

"You know it's home when you get here and the people make you want to leave all over again," Miles laughed, breaking rank with the others to embrace his friend.

With the dark of night set around them, his right eye was made especially obvious against the backdrop of his face. While his left was a normal moon-pale grey, his right eye glowed Cybertronian-blue. Unlike Sam, he was not affected by Allspark energy as a source of his mismatched eyes. Instead, the eye Miles had lost several years ago had been replaced by a cybernetic one. It was perfectly able to look like a normal eye when it needed to be, but for most of the time, Miles preferred the shock value of having it look freaky.

Sunstreaker snorted to himself, watching the humans embrace. Home. A sentiment he'd been hearing lamented over since they'd left on the mission. Unfortunately, he and Sideswipe weren't quite home yet. Nevada was where they stayed when on duty, but Carnéval on the east coast of Canada was where they called home. It would be up to Miles or one of the other various human operatives of the base to charter them a flight back home. Until then, they were stuck on base.

Miles suddenly gave a yelp, a plume of smoke rising out of his back pocket. He dug back there and pulled out a sparking, smoking iPad.

"Sorry," Sam sighed sheepishly.

"It's cool, bro," Miles assured while waving the smoking device around to cool it down. "I totally dropped it in the toilet yesterday anyways. I needed a new one." Once sure his fried iPad wasn't going to set his pants on fire, he stowed it away. "I gotta tell you, though- you five sure caused a nightmare for us back here. Attack on the dam and then our ambassador suddenly goes AWOL? You wouldn't believe the nasty rumours that crept up. We even had a herd of reporters try to flock Mikaela for a statement-"

Sam and Hound were instantly on alert, both demanding "Is everyone okay?" at the same time.

"Nah, it's cool. I got there with Smokescreen and Mirage before anything could happen," Miles assured, then gave them a wry grin. "You guys couldn't make this any more of a nightmare, could you?"

"Ya know it's not our fault," Hound said, now relieved to know his humans were okay. "We tried ta keep it low key, but then things just happened… It's not like we planned ta make a fiasco out of it."

Simmons finally cut in, having had enough of standing on the sidelines. "Does it matter? It's still costing us- or should I say, it's costing you, since it's coming out of the Autobot account." He regarded the newly landed team with a hard stare. "We're looking at upwards of over ten million in negotiations."

"Greedy meat sacks," Sunstreaker sneered. He was not one of the Cybertronians who could claim his love of organics had gone far. "They just want to blame us for everything and then bleed us dry of all the money and resources they can get."

"That's lovely, Sunstreaker. Your opinion of my species warms my heart. And if you hadn't of noticed, these greedy meat sacks here are trying to minimize the shit storm," Simmons pointed out, gesturing between himself and Miles. "Now, if you're not all too busy, would you please kindly give me your versions of what the hell happened so I can get on with my life cleaning up after you people?"

"You're going to have to wait on that, Simmons- these bots need repairs first," Ratchet cut in, making his way to Sideswipe. The red mech tried to ease away, but was caught in the medic's vice-like grip. No chance of escape now. Ratchet cast a pointed stare down to the human agent, daring him to challenge his authority as he said, "You know how the chain of command works around here: they see me first and Optimus Prime second. You'll hear about what happened after Prime decides he's done with them."

Simmons' mouth firmed into a thin line. "That chain of command doesn't work for me. The longer you keep me out of the loop, the longer it takes for me to do my job properly."

Ratchet rumbled like a thunderstorm. "You'll have to make do. My patients' welfare comes first."

Bumblebee revved impatiently, pushing past everyone. "I don't have time for this, I'm going to my quarters," he intoned curtly. "Ratchet, you can repair me later- my welfare at the moment is just fine."

Surprised by the scout's tone, Ratchet stepped out of his way. Bumblebee didn't bother to meet anyone's gaze, nor did he return any of the greetings tossed his way by stray humans or transformers as he cut his way across the tarmac. Under the stark lights circling the large runway, he looked worse than ever before. Too soon, he disappeared into the sprawling labyrinth that had become of the Nevadan base.

The three members of the welcoming party immediately turned to Sam for answers, who could only shrug in return.

"Don't look at me, I've been out cold for days," the human fenced.

Attention turned to the other Autobots, who had about as much answers for everyone as Sam did.

"Whatever," Miles shrugged. "If he's cool being all antisocial, then let him. We all need to be grumpy once in a while."

Hound made a noise like clearing his throat. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, Ah'd really like ta get mah dents pulled out before Ah go home. You know how Chase and Mikaela get when I show up like Ah rolled out of a junk yard." Like the twins, he didn't live on base. Unlike the twins, he didn't go very far, still living with the Banes as an oversized part of their highly dysfunctional family.

Sunstreaker put his hand to his shoulder. "A little repair work would be nice, actually. I got a kink in my shoulder that needs fix-ARGH!" A howl ripped from him as the medic put both hands to his shoulder and gave a good, hard twist. The noise of metal wrenching against metal had everyone cringing.

"There, how's that?" Ratchet asked, smirking.

It was on the tip of Sunstreaker's vocal processor to start spitting curses, but froze when he realized the kink was gone. He blinked, rolled the joint a few times, and then curved a dry smile. "It's fine now."

"Good, you just volunteered yourself to report to Optimus tonight," Ratchet announced, smug as ever. "I'll fix the rest of you later."

"Sucker," Sideswipe snorted from behind the medic's back.

Sam stepped up, looking like he would volunteer to go as well, but was cut off as Ratchet grabbed him from the ground.

"You're coming with me, boy. You're having a full work up whether you like it or not" ordered the medic, leaving no room for argument. He then arched his optic ridges to Sunstreaker. "You'll find Prime in the solarium."

Before he knew it, Sunstreaker found himself left in the dust as Ratchet dragged Sam and Sideswipe away, Hound happily following behind. Feeling two sets of eyes staring up at him, the warrior glanced down to the two humans still standing at his feet. They stared up at him, Simmons looking bland and Miles grinning in a way that annoyed the slag out Sunstreaker. He said nothing to them, transforming in a serpentine glide of sliding metal armour. He roared his engine and streaked out in the direction of the solarium.

He took the long way around, skirting around the base where he was least likely to be seen. While it was late for the humans and unlikely for many to be out, the risk of being spotted by fellow Cybertronians was enough for Sunstreaker to stick to the shadows. Though he was ridiculously tired, he was vain enough to make the effort. The only bot to see him in his pitiful state was Red Alert, whose obsessive installation of cameras made him near-omniscient of the goings on of the base. Thankfully, Red also knew when to keep quiet when it was good for him, and it was very good for his health to keep quiet about what Sunstreaker currently looked like.

As he approached his destination, Sunstreaker cut his engine and glided into a peaceful stop. The solarium rose up like a sparkling jewel in amongst the hard angles of grey military-grade buildings. It was an enclosure designed to fit Cybertronian tastes, large enough to fit their kind easily. The main reason it existed was for one Cybertronian in particular: Elita One. The Autobots had spared no expense for her, creating a small oasis where she could feel at home and feel safe. It was a confection of glittering reinforced glass, curling wrought iron fixtures, and a mix of Cybertronian and Earthling cultures. No where within was Elita cut off from seeing the sky, its octagonal shape giving a panoramic view of the desert the solarium edged; the walls that faced the base were stained glass to obscure the look of the caging metal vista beyond.

Transforming, Sunstreaker slipped in through the tall decorative door and clicked it shut politely behind him. From the dryness outside, he was hit by the drastic humid change inside. The air hung thick with the scent of organic life forms and heavy mugginess. It turned the dust coating him to a muddy paste, and it took all of the warrior's self-control not to shudder. Aside from his issues with the climate, the solarium was an artistic wonderland. The lights within were tasteful art pieces from inspired small-town artists, glittering magically against the backdrop of the night sky beyond the glass that domed overhead. Several tile fixtures boasted of vibrant paintings, a few of which Sunstreaker himself had donated time to create. The floor was an interesting mix of rich black earth and colourful mosaics made from reinforced polymers so they didn't crack under Cybertronian weight. Greenery overflowed in every direction, from creeping vines to exotic ferns, fascinating trees, and a rainbow of enchanting flowers. The solarium was not to every Cybertronian's tastes, but some found themselves here from time to time to absorb the serenity that hung as thick as the perfume of flowers in the air.

Scanning the solarium, Sunstreaker set off along the winding rows to where he knew a trio of sparks was gathered. Coming around the bend, he was struck by the perfect picture he came upon. As always, Elita One was a stunning beauty in her rose-coloured plating. She was a naturally graceful creature, enhanced by her delicate features. Her frame had been modified to remove all accents of war; she was now among the closest of all Cybertronians on Earth to be returned to her pre-war state. At the moment, she looked perfectly peaceful. To see her as such always flooded Sunstreaker with a wave of longing nostalgia, wishing for the peaceful orns before he had become a killer in the gladiatorial circuit- orns when he had been her apprentice, learning how to paint, following her around wherever she went in a daze of adoration and young love.

Sitting across from her at the crystal-and-wrought iron garden table designed for someone specifically Elita's size was Optimus Prime, managing to dwarf the furniture and his mate yet not make himself look foolish in the act. He was another figure of natural grace, though his came in the form of regal nobility. For as long as Sunstreaker had known the Prime, Optimus had always had the natural gift to command whatever room he stood in. Bots automatically found that they could respect him, trust, simply by virtue of how he was as a mech. He was a handsome figure, an equally lovely match to his sparkmate, though his frame still boasted the accoutrements of war. It was beyond Sunstreaker why the Prime kept those blasted flames for a paintjob, though. On Cybertron, he'd been regal in reds and blues, but here… Primus, it drove Sunstreaker insane wishing he could paint the Prime in something a little more dignified!

And then there was the third member of the trio, a tiny creature who made Sunstreaker pause for a moment. His spark fluttered, though he could never put a name to the reason why. She was a doll-like creature, no more than seven feet tall, her frame boasting of medical-class precision and dextrous thinness. So small was she compared to her company that she was required to sit on several large, empty energon cubes to see over the top of the garden table. She presented yet another form of grace, hers being darkly haunting. Most would think her creepy and downright weird. Her paint was a gothic confection of metallic green accented by swaths of black- added by Sunstreaker himself, which he prided himself on. One of her most striking features was the two large, black roses she wore magnetically adhered to her head; carved from the armour of her fallen partners, she wore them as her tribute to Worm and Trojan Horse. The roses were a much better option than mounting her dead comrades' heads on a wall, as she had originally planned.

She was known by the moniker Virus by most. The privilege of calling her by her original designation, Moonfly, remained solely Sunstreaker and Sideswipe's pleasure.

Fully aware of his approach, the three at the table turned to regard him with a range of expressions from warmly welcome to curiously blank. Sunstreaker was compelled to bow, doing so with as much polite elegance as he could muster in his lacklustre state. Being in his current company only made him increasing self-conscious of his wretched state, like a poor beggar in the presence of royalty. Normally something like this would put him in an increasingly foul mood. For Elita's sake, he remained neutral.

"Welcome back, Sunstreaker," Optimus Prime greeted warmly, prompting the warrior to rise from his bow. "I take it the others are with Ratchet?"

"He didn't give much of a choice," Sunstreaker replied, straightening in order to adopt an at ease pose.

"Ah, well, Ratchet generally knows what's best," Prime said, nodding. "No one was severely damaged, were they?"

Sunstreaker paused for a moment to appreciate listening to and speaking in his native language. It had been strictly human languages for the duration of the mission, a fact that had grated severely. The moment passed and he proceeded into a minor overview of injuries: "Sideswipe needs an arm reattached-."

Virus snorted indelicately into the tiny cube of sludgy coal-dust-and-sulphur mixed energon she adored.

"-Hound is so whipped he's afraid to show up home with a ding on him-."

Elita smiled with knowing amusement, taking a delicate sip from her bubbly hydrogen-rich energon to hide it.

"-and Sam went Sparky on us, so he's getting the usual scans done. He is awake, though. I think crossing the rift was enough to a jolt to bring him out of stasis."

Optimus frowned in concern. "The attack was so severe that he had to intervene?"

"It was a horde of them, Optimus- more than what we could have handled on our own." Which was saying a lot when Sunstreaker, of all mechs, was reporting that. "If Sam hadn't of stepped in, we would have all been drained."

This did not ease the Prime's initial concern. If anything, it extended it to include the entire team involved. "Shouldn't you be with Ratchet being looked after with the others? There was no need to seek me out here, especially if you're hurt. I would have been perfectly able to come to you in the med bay whenever you were ready to give a report." Because that was exactly the kind of Prime he was; he genuinely cared for his bots, not afraid to come down to their level for their own comfort.

Sunstreaker almost smiled. "Ratchet didn't give me much of a choice. I don't mind, though." His optics wandered to Virus, who met his gaze for a moment with her eerie unblinking stare before slowly looking away.

"You must be tired, nonetheless, dearspark," Elita One intoned. She wasn't quite the same strict femme commander everyone remembered, but no one expected her to be. She was softer now, withdrawn from the war as far as she could get. "Let us not waste any more of your time. You're welcome to give your report and then get some well-deserved rest and repairs."

Optimus was in complete agreement in the matter, inviting the report with a gesture of his hand.

Sunstreaker was quick and concise in his report. As all Autobots had been trained, he was not superfluous in detail. It was his job to report all pertinent information on the mission, nothing more, so that was what was said. He resisted complaining of the sun, sand, and incessant humans. He summarized their evaluations of the Egyptian dams and went on to describe their experiences in Sudan. He started with the appearance of the Fallen and the initial abnormal darkening of the sky, elaborating from there the horde of 50+ leeches that had attacked. He described the appearance of Nemesis, his uncanny resemblance to Optimus Prime, and his targeted attack on Bumblebee. In detached tones, he recounted how quickly their fight took a turn for the worse, how Sam immediately stepped up to do what needed to be done. Once done with the battle, Sunstreaker also described the aftermath of the encounter, from the clean up efforts to Bumblebee's disturbed behaviour and refusal to speak of what happened between him and the Prime-lookalike. Once finished, he waited on the Prime to speak again.

"That sounds like quite the encounter," Optimus said pensively, leaning back in his chair. "This Nemesis figure sounds more dangerous than the usual brand of monster we've been seeing as of late."

"He is," Sunstreaker confirmed in no uncertain terms.

Prime nodded. "It worries me that he targeted Bumblebee specifically. I'm even more worried that Bumblebee won't speak of the matter. As you know, he's normally very open."

"Perhaps he wasn't willing to speak of it with me, Sides, or Hound?" Sunstreaker offered, though even that sounded unusual. All three of them had been around since Bumblebee was young; the young scout had always held them in confidence. "If you give him some time to rest, he may be more willing to speak of it."

"We shall see," Prime ceded.

Elita pushed her chair back, rising to her feet. "I think I will go see him," she announced, surprising her mate and Sunstreaker. Most of the Autobots' quarters were underground, a place she staunchly avoided. For her to volunteer to go…

"I'll come with you," Optimus intoned, beginning to rise from his seat. He was waved back with a quick gesture.

"No, I'm fine to go such a short distance," Elita assured, taking her mate's hand to pat it lovingly between her own. "I'm perfectly safe here. The most dangerous creatures here are only Autobots, and they would never hurt me. Would they, Sunstreaker?" She turned her gaze to the golden warrior.

"Never," Sunstreaker automatically replied. "You'd never have to fear anything from us."

"Always such a poetic spark." Elita returned her gaze to her mate. "You see? I'm perfectly safe when I have the likes of the Twins looking out for me."

Sunstreaker couldn't help but feel extremely flattered by the sentiment. Of all the Autobots, Elita One had never seemed to lose her faith in him or his brother, even when they were at their worst. For that, she would always have his loyalty.

"If you begin to feel claustrophobic underground, just call," Prime insisted. Elita gave his hand one last pat before straightening and heading for Sunstreaker himself. She was fourteen feet to his eighteen, so she didn't have far to go to reach up and brush his faceplate with the tips of her fingers.

"I'm glad you and your brother came back all right," she said softly.

Sunstreaker couldn't help but smile softly. "Glad to be back."

With a soft laugh, she passed on into the foliage and disappeared. Once gone, Optimus revved quietly. Virus sucked back the last of her tar-like energon and jumped to the ground. Though it wasn't a long way to fall, she still stumbled. Brushing herself off, she skittered beneath the table and came to stand at Sunstreaker's feet, staring up at him.

"Did you bring me a leech?" she asked bluntly.

An optic ridge arched. "Is that all you have to say to me?"

Virus canted her head, thinking for a moment. "Yes. Where's my leech?"

"It's good to see you too, Moonfly," Sunstreaker sighed, rolling his optics. "I don't have a leech for you. I forgot to ask Sam not to vaporize them all before they killed us."

Virus missed the sarcastic tone, or she ignored. It was sometimes hard to tell with her. "Ask next time. I want one of those things to study for myself. I hate having to fly all the way here just to look at the one Perceptor keeps."

"Virus, we've discussed this- you do not have the resources at Carnéval to keep one of those creatures," Optimus intoned. "It's too dangerous."

"That's why we've been discussing resource reallocation, Prime," Virus replied curtly. "I had hoped we were getting somewhere with our negotiations."

"With energon and materials, yes. With regards to the captivity of leeches, no." That was something Prime would never renege on. The breach of ethics alone to have a leech within Virus's possession was enough to have Optimus balking. To put things bluntly: she had no ethics to speak of. Rarely did she even bother to have a conscience. The very thought of what she might do to the creature if she got her hands on a leech or kremzeek…

The femme snorted indelicately. "If you are going to be so uncompromising, I see no reason for staying here any longer. The rest of this meeting is unnecessary." She returned her attention to Sunstreaker, giving the Prime her back. Her gaze was as sharp as a scalpel as she looked the golden mech up and down. "You require repairs, yes? I will do them right now. Come, I can hardly stand looking at you right now." With an imperious gesture, she was gone into the foliage with the expectation that Sunstreaker would follow.

Sunstreaker hesitated, casting one last glance to the Prime.

"Go on, don't keep her waiting," Optimus said, rueful smile in place. "She's been near-unmanageable with you and Sideswipe gone. It's a blessing you're home so soon or she would have driven us all insane."

"She takes some getting used to," Sunstreaker chuckled. He glanced after the femme, smirking. "But, I'm glad to be home."