Don't be confused, this IS a new chapter. Also, I know how different the characters may seem here, and I want you to know this is my interpretation of how they might be after everything they'd been through. Trigger warning for references to disturbing content.

4

Cybertron: 1,464 years later

Bumblebee began the long walk across the yard, optics trained on the back of a black-painted helm. Bee held out a gun, pressed against the dark mech's back. They walked out between two grave piles and out of sight of the factory. In the shadow of a pile, Bumblebee stopped walking. The other mech stopped as well and turned around, red optics locking onto Bumblebee's. The yellow scout raised his weapon and pointed it at Knockout's helm.

The black-painted medic calmly closed his optics and Bumblebee put weight on the trigger. Deep in his spark he felt anxious to move the weapon away, and the longer he waited the greater was his desire to spare the prisoner's life. But he soon found he was helpless to control himself, his body working on its own accord. Terror overtook him as his arm moved on its own, straightening out, pulling the trigger, and firing at the medic. Shredded metal blew out the back of Knockout's helm and he fell to the ground, dead.

Bumblebee sat up in his berth, vents gasping for a breath. His spark burned painfully as he cycled air, trying to orient himself. He was in the berthroom of his apartment, with no more than a dim, golden light glowing from the headboard of the berth. He swore to Primus that he would shoot himself if he had to endure that dream for one more night. The last few weeks had been difficult, with old memories resurfacing and then warping into twisted nightmares as he recharged.

Just about when Bumblebee's old leg injury reminded him of its presence with a painful throb, he heard a knock at the door. He turned on the berth-side light and opened a drawer, pulling a loaded injection gun out from where it was concealed beneath a stack of data pads. He quickly held the gun to the seam of his hip, pressing the needle into an Energon intake. He injected himself, the chemical working through his Energon lines and ebbing the pain just a bit. There was another knock at the door and he dropped the gun into the drawer, closing it hastily.

"Rise and shine, Sir," said the orange and white mech as he opened the door. "It's a beautiful day and there's so much to see if you felt like, oh, getting adventurous and leaving the apartment today." He stepped inside with a small tray in hand.

'Blades,' Bumblebee said in a curl of unamused beeps, 'Why are you here five slagging hours early?'

"You had me take note on my agenda to have you up early today," the assistant said as he set down the tray on the berth-side table. On it was another injection gun and a chemical canister.

'I don't remember telling you to note anything.'

"Maybe you don't remember because you told me six months ago." The copter bot looked at his hand-held device. "You had me mark down 'sentencing day'. Did you want to attend one of the Decepticon trials?"

Bumblebee offlined his optics. 'Could I get that dose now?'

"Yes sir," Blades said, loading the canister into the gun and holding it up to the seam in Bumblebee's hip. The machine pumped the chemical into him with a hiss and Bumblebee collapsed back into the berth with a sigh. The level of pain was almost manageable now.

"Sir," the Blades murmured, "please tell me this is your first dose today." Bumblebee didn't respond. "So you're planning to show up in public for the first time in who knows how long, high on morphite? As much as it astounds me to say this, maybe you should stay inside today and watch the trial on PBG."

'I have to go,' he said, 'I need to see this one in person.' And in all truthfulness, Bumblebee owed it to him to be there.

"I still don't understand-"

'Please, just put it on so we can go.'

The assistant nodded and retrieved the brace where it leaned against the wall. He set it against Bumblebee's side, closing the clamp around Bee's hip and upper leg. Bumblebee bit back a cry as it was tightened into place.

Xxx

Bumblebee avoided eye contact as he limped down the halls of the New Iacon Hub Center. There was a heavy flow of traffic, but the mechs around him gave the small, yellow mech an arm's length of space for him and Blades. He cut through the flow of mechs to the Court District of the Hub Center. He could hear a trial taking place through one of the sets of doors.

"We're on the top viewing level," Blades said, "If we take the elevator you can sit floor level and see better. Have you scheduled your attendance?"

'No.'

"Well one of the citizens will gladly be reseated if you want to sit down there."

'I'm fine up here,' Bumblebee responded earnestly.

Clickfin opened the door quietly and they stepped inside, where roughly two hundred New Iacon citizens watched the public trials. Blades held Bumblebee's arm as he stepped down the few stairs to an empty seat and sat down. He looked down the balcony, where at the bottom floor the judge and offending Decepticon prisoner sat with the other court members.

The trials had been going on without stop for two years now as each captured Decepticon was processed and then sentenced. Those with the greatest war crimes were executed in the following hours to their trial, and those low ranking Decepticons whose crimes were not so severe were given the opportunity to plea to the council. But there hadn't been a single accepted plea in the last two months, and everyone, however few admitted it, knew the reason why. Resources were still on the low end, and New Iacon could only afford to sustain energy and resources for the mass prisons for so long. The Decepticon prisoner population had to be reduced. But that wasn't the true reason. It was simply fear that kept sending the Decepticons to their death. What had happened 1,500 years ago absolutely, without question, could not ever occur again. The Decepticons could never be given another chance to rise into power.

Once, Bumblebee would have found everything about their situation so appalling that he would have acted out, but that was before Megatron had killed Optimus Prime, and had committed genocide against the indigenous population of Earth. It was before he'd lost almost every Autobot he knew to merciless interrogations, work camps, withholding of energon, torture and other brutalities. What had to be done would be done if it meant that the tables would never turn again.

"Bumblebee, sir," Blades whispered, "Do you want me to take you out of here?"

Bumblebee came out of his dark cloud and realized that his servos were balled into fists. 'I'm… I'm fine.'

He watched another two 'con soldiers come in and leave with especially swift trials. The first had been allowed to give a plea to the committee, but upon swearing that he would never remove his Decepticon insignia or be loyal to anyone but the deceased Megatron, he was escorted to the execution room. The second had been found guilty for multiple counts of interrogation torture and rape, and was sentenced to the same.

The announcer spoke up again. "Up next we have Decepticon Knockout."

Bumblebee sat completely still in his seat as the door opened and Knockout was escorted in. The medic's wrists were bound behind him, an electro collar locked around his neck. Bumblebee smirked behind his vocalizer as Knockout sat, looking as if he was the guest of honor here. Knockout's days of darkness had gone as the Autobots had risen up again. His glossy, red enamel had been restored along with the life in his optics. He only hoped they wouldn't be extinguished today.

The announcer opened the file in his datapad and began to read. "Decepticon Knockout was a high ranking medic before the war, and for most of it he was a personal medic for Megatron himself. He was also chief Decepticon medical officer during the campaign on Earth, prior to the death of the late Prime and before the Decepticon rise. He has been found guilty for multiple counts of interrogation torture, with no plea allowance. Unless any of the council objects, his sentence is execution by 7.9 EM pulse to the spark."

The announcer waited for a moment to give the council time, in case any wished to speak out. Normally it was a formality since the council almost never objected, but Bumblebee had submitted a data notification six months ago, and so waited for it to be brought up and discussed. But the moment was brief and the council was silent before the announcer continued. "Without further delay, trial of Decepticon Knockout is complete."

Bumblebee's brows pulled together and he tried to stand, struggling with his brace and the sharp pain in his hip. Blades rushed to help him. 'Tell them to wait,' Bumblebee said hurriedly.

"H-Hold on!" Blades called down, with an edge of surprise in his own voice. "Sir, what is it?" he asked Bee.

Bumblebee steadied himself on his pedes and leaned over the edge of the balcony. Knockout looked up at him, the defiant smirk falling from his face before he turned away again.

"Commander Bumblebee," one of the council members said with soft respect. This council member was nobody to Bee, a name he hadn't heard before the war ended, and whose name he'd forgotten since election. "To what do we owe the honor of your presence?"

'I'd like to know what happened to my data notification on Decepticon Knockout.'

The council turned to the announcer, who quickly looked through his data pad before shrugging. Bumblebee bit back his anger. It was so typical that proof would be disregarded, but that they would even stoop to passing over a Commander's data notification was infuriating.

"Apologies Commander," the council member said, "it seems they have been misplaced. Was there something you wanted to share?"

Bumblebee hesitated, looking at Knockout again. The medic stared ahead of him with a neutral expression. Bumblebee had not had any desire to speak in front of him or to be seen by him, and had hoped that the information would be discussed without need for a public intervention. He stood there silently, the whole of the courtroom watching him.

'I… I never documented the details of my detainment at Full-cron Work Camp, or my escape from it. But… the Decepticon on trial here orchestrated my escape. He has credit for my survival.'

The room filled with murmurs, the council leaning over each other to speak amongst themselves. The youngest member turned to him. "Do you have any proof of this encounter?"

"Watch who you're speaking to!" snapped another council member. "A veteran Commander's word should be enough. He should not have to endure any interrogation."

"Alright, that's enough," one of the eldest member said, quieting his fellows. He turned to Bumblebee. "We thank you for your contribution, Commander. But we cannot dismiss all of the crimes this mech has committed for one good act. You do remember that he is responsible for the death of multiple Autobots?"

'I remember. And I also remember that I'm responsible for the death of numerous Decepticons,' Bumblebee responded. 'We all are. Every veteran. Isn't that why we don't even bother listing it on the counts of guilt? I don't condone anything he has done against us, but I can't sit here and say nothing either. Not after what he did for me.'

"Once again," the older council member said, "I thank you for your contribution. But…"he paused as a smaller bot ran up to his table, passing him a data pad. He read it and turned up his helm. "It seems that since the live broadcast of Commander Bumblebee's confession, eight other survivors of the Earthian work camps have called in to give Knockout credit for their escape."

Bumblebee looked at Knockout with surprise, but the medic kept his expression in check.

"Make that eleven calls," the council member said after his assistant approached him again. He sighed and turned to his fellows. "With the new evidence attained in the prisoner's defense, does anyone have an objection to waving the death penalty?"

"I don't want him back in the prison," another said. "Spare his life, fine. But something else has to be done with him."

The older council member watched Bumblebee. "Commander, do you have any suggestions as to the fate of him? He cannot stay in the prisons and if you have no input, we will be forced to proceed with the execution."

Bumblebee hesitated, not having any ideas.

"Commander?"

'I'll take him,' Bumblebee vocalized quickly. Knockout's optics flashed up to him and Bee looked away. 'If there's nothing else to do with him, I'll… give him a place to stay. And keep an optic on him.'

"Interesting," one of the younger council members said coldly, "So he'll be like… a slave."

Bumblebee's optics brightened with indignation. 'That is not what I meant!'

"Hold your glossa!" the older council member growled to the younger. "But I do understand his meaning," he said to Bumblebee. "We cannot simply 'give out' Decepticons. In the eye of the public that could be called nothing but slavery, which is in strict violation of the Autobot Code. That was obviously not your intention, but still…"

"He can take me," Knockout said aloud, immediately commanding the court's attention. "I'm not a slave if I go willingly. He can be my warden. And anyway, look at him. He's in blatant need of a qualified medical aid which he obviously doesn't have if he's still wearing that ancient brace. And if the leader of the Decepticon army trusting my skills doesn't qualify me, I don't know what does."

"That's enough," the eldest council member said, despite the hum of laughter drifting over the crowd. The council leaned in to speak with one another and turned to Bumblebee. "You agree to this? To act as his warden?"

Bumblebee vented a sigh. 'I do.'

To be continued.