So, after a hiatus into the Prime-verse, I have returned to Movieverse and Liraz!

Bonus points go to:

T'Reilani for IDing the generation of the quote last chapter.

Everyone else: where is your TFs knowledge? Kidding. But please let me know if my trivia stuff is too old. I'll do more recent tidbits.

If you answered the trivia and weren't acknowledged, I'm sorry. Let me know and I'll add you in.

Disclaimer: I own Liraz, the planet she comes from, and…*furtively looks around, and sees Nightbeat glaring* oh, well, he's watching…guess I can't claim the TFs. Hasbro's got those. Oh, and T'Reilani owns Riella.

Chapter 6

(Liraz POV)

I was floating upward, slowly surfacing…so, so slowly. I could feel the warm, welcome pulse of half-familiar sparks around me. I knew better than to reach out to touch them, though. I couldn't tell exactly who they were, but I knew better than to touch Factionist sparks.

"I think she's coming around," observed a crisp voice that was definitely familiar. Nightbeat… I sighed, nearly reaching out to his spark. It felt so much warmer than the other sparks I could sense, almost like…like…hot sand.

"Of course she's coming around, glitch! It's not like I would allow her to just offline before I figure out how she did that!" snapped another voice, this one less familiar than Nightbeat's, but recognizable all the same. Ratchet.

"Did what?" I asked, eyes still closed. I finally opened them and the warm pulse of the sparks faded – I mean, the sparks themselves didn't fade, but my awareness of them did. Except for Nightbeat's; his I could still feel clearly. I sighed again, this time with regret; the feel of simply knowing all those sparks were near was so comforting…it reminded me of my early training at the Oasis, and later, my apprenticeship on the high sands back on Heer-olde…

That jolted me out of my half-awake state. I had spent my apprenticeship as a Cadet Herald on the high sands of Heer-olde. The name of my home planet was Heer-olde. And I had been born, raised, and had been trained partially in the capitol, the Oasis, in the shadows of the Forge of the Matrix. I'd had a mentor, the one who had taken me to the high sands. I could almost hear his voice, almost picture his face…almost remember his name…And my cousin had trained with me, too. Hope had been my best friend for my whole life.

"You fixed Bumblebee's vocal processor. It's been glitching in and out. It hasn't glitched since you lost consciousness. What did you do?" Ratchet demanded. The green medic pushed me back down when I tried to sit up. He used his pinkie finger. I contemplated slashing some wiring, but I remembered that Kumi – who, as an archivist turned head of security and intelligence on Heer-olde, used her hands almost as much as a medic would – hated it when her fingers got damaged, so I refrained. So that was who Kumi Prime was. An archivist who had become head of intell back home. But back to Ratchet's question.

"His vocal processor was fine. There was a bent prong near his CPU, which I bent back into shape. It would have been simple, if he hadn't pulled away with me still working!" I added angrily. A squeak drew my attention to the subject of conversation, who was now cowering behind Ratchet. I glared at him. He scooted farther out of sight behind the medic.

"Are you all right, Liraz?" Nightbeat stood on the other side of the oversized berth I'd apparently been placed on. I felt my glare fade as I looked up at the blue and gold mech, a grin working its way onto my face.

"Sure, 'Beat. I'm fine. I just needed some time to recharge, recover from the shock of the disconnect, that's all," I assured him.

"And some energon," Ratchet noted. I blinked and looked down. There was an energon line connected to my arm.

"Oh, yeah. Thanks. You can take that out now; I'm running on full to bursting." As the medic removed the line, I noticed that my battlesuit had formed a perfect connection port for the line while I was out. Ah, the wonders of the battlesuit. The port vanished as I watched.

"How did you do that?" Ratchet demanded. I glanced up at his shocked and bewildered expression and grinned.

"Battlesuit,' I said simply. When that didn't appear to enlighten them, I explained in more detail. "We Heralds aren't born technorganic, but when we're about five years old, we go to the Forge of the Matrix. Energon, Forge-fire, and a special brant-Cybertronian alloy are used to make an almost sentient battlesuit that bonds to the body and mind. We can upgrade – more armor, more power, even special weapons sometimes, like my plasma rifle. We can control our suits effortlessly, but if we're unconscious, the suit kind of takes over to protect us."

I looked around. The bots were all staring at me with various levels of mystification. Except for Nightbeat, who nodded slowly, optics far away.

"So Heralds themselves aren't technorganic, not naturally?" he murmured.

"No, we are. Without a battlesuit, we would die. It's not just part of who we are; it's part of what we are," I told him firmly. Anyone else who had told me I wasn't naturally technorganic would have gotten a sword stuffed somewhere he really didn't want it. But it was Nightbeat, and his spark pulsed steadily as he contemplated what I had said, so I simply watched him for a moment.

"All right. If you're done confusing me and sucking up the Autobots' resources, I'd appreciate having that berth back if you don't mind," Ratchet growled. Nightbeat scooped me up and hurried out into the corridor, where Ironhide was waiting.

"Before you ask, mitilu, I'm fine," I said when the big black mech opened his mouth.

"We were actually looking for you," Nightbeat told him. "To ask you about when you died." Ironhide grimaced.

"It hurt a lot. And then it didn't hurt anymore. That's all," he stated.

"Are you sure, Ironhide? You said – '

"Wait." I regarded the Autobot weapons specialist for a long moment. Nightbeat waited, silent. "Mitilu, is there a reason why you don't want to talk about when you died – besides the obvious?" I added. The big mech nodded shortly. "Nightbeat, would you let me talk to him alone, please?" it was phrased as a request, but it wasn't, not really. The detective was about to refuse anyway, I could feel it in the stiffening of his frame. I leaned against the side of his head. "Trust me, bivilu." The phrase slipped easily off my tongue, and I didn't let myself think about it. Reluctantly, Nightbeat put a hand up to my shoulder perch so I could get on. Then he passed me to Ironhide. As soon as I settled on the black mech's shoulder, he started off down the hallway. I tried to ignore the sad, strangely lonely flare in Nightbeat's spark as we left him behind.

"You told me not to tell anyone about what happened if they didn't see it themselves," Ironhide confessed once Nightbeat was out of hearing range.

"What happened?" I asked softly. I didn't want to cause him any more pain, but I had to know. He sighed heavily.

"We were betrayed. The traitor shot me point-blank. Normally, I would've pulled through; I've taken worse hits. But a little orange man in gunmetal gray armor kind of like yours landed on my chest. He was inside my head, and it felt like he was sucking all of my energy. It hurt. A lot. Then everything went black." He paused as a few humans walked past – they seemed to scurry everywhere around here – and then continued. "the next thing I remember is you telling me to lay still, not to fight. Then you were inside my head, the way he was, but pouring energy back into me, not sucking it out. That hurt a bit, too, but it felt…" he trailed off.

"Like life itself," I whispered.

"How can you just drain their sparks, Cero?"

"If you would try it, aptlu, even once, you would not have to ask. Their strength isn't like ours. It's warm, but not sand and Forgefire. It's metal and starfire. It's like life itself."

"You told me not to tell anyone what you had done, and said that if you came back with no memory to let you know. And to tell you a name: Cero." He fell silent.

I remembered thinking I could never drain sparks like Cero. And now I could remember asking…someone…how he could just drain sparks – not Colonial sparks, I suddenly knew, but Factionists. I didn't remember who Cero was, but I knew he was bad. And here he was again.

"Right, okay…any idea who Cero is?" I asked, stupidly hopeful. Nothing in my memory had been easy; why should this be?

"No, Liraz, I'm sorry, but that's all I know. I'm sorry I couldn't be more help," he added. I smiled.

"It's all right," I assured him. "And, if you want to tell someone, if you think it's important that your comrades know what happened, then it's all right to tell them now, I think." Ironhide's emmense frame shook slightly. He was holding back laughter. Laughter, from a mech who'd just been talking about his own death. Cybertronians never ceased to surprise and confuse me.

"They'd probably put it down to hallucinations," he told me. "Since I was dying, after all." I grinned. And not just at his words.

Whatever else I had done, whatever I had been convicted of, whatever I had been accused of…I had saved this mech. I'd made a difference – a good difference. And maybe…just maybe…with Nightbeat's help, I could figure out why I knew who I was and what I was supposed to have done…and that I was innocent. And why I had come to Earth to prove that, and make things right.

Okay, that's all I've got for you for this chapter! Please let me know what you think! Flames will be used to burn foods I don't like.

Anywho, hopefully it won't be so long before I post the next chapter. But these darn Prime-verse plot bunnies…anyway, remember to go to my profile and vote on which OC should star in my next fanfic.

And now! Bonus points shall be awarded to anyone who can tell me who said/wrote these quotes! And Energon goodies to anyone who can tell me what Generation or episode or comic it was!

"Don't worry, Sunny. Just make left turns!"

"I've been held at gunpoint by the best – Megatron, Starscream, Killmaster – remember Killmaster? With the wand? – and I've never known anyone who took so long to explain their grand plan."

"Huh. I wondered why I could taste the back of my eyes in my mouth."

"Ultra Magnus is an OCD control freak who uses learning to hurt people."

"What, this? This thing with the ceiling? This is called escaping."