Thanks to everyone who's commented and favorited and followed and everything. Like always, you guys make this all the more enjoyable with you amazing feedback. I'm glad you all enjoy it. :) HUGS TO EVERYONE!

I do not own Transformers (unfortunately), I only own my OC and other characters you may not recognize.


" Open your heart… I am calling you. Right from the very start… your wounded heart was calling too. Open you arms… you will find the answer when you answer to… the call…" Celtic Woman; The Call

5

Call of the Shard

Dear Diary,

Since this is my first journal entry I should probably start off by introducing myself. My name is Crystal Artemis Savage—but I prefer to be called by my middle name. I'm fourteen-almost-fifteen years old and am nearly five-foot-three-inches in stature. I have hazel-green eyes, wear glasses, and have long black hair that falls to the middle of my back. Unfortunately my hair is the kind that never likes to do what I tell it, so I have to keep it braided back. As for my heritage, you could say that I'm kind of a mutt. My mother, Shannon Tantaros-Savage, is half-Greek and my father, Michael Savage—wherever the hell he might be—was Italian. I have a nine-year-old sister named Gemma and I'm closer to her than I am to anyone else in this entire, crazy, FUBAR world, but maybe that's a story for another time.

I'm not like other kids. I'm a loner, and keep very little company. I like just about every type of music there is except reggae, rap, screamo, and anything that's done by Justin Beiber (blech!). I also like to read, write, and draw as well as sing and dance. I can play the violin and piano and when I was younger I used to enjoy ice-skating.

As for some random facts about me: my favorite color is green and my favorite food is spaghetti and meatballs. The Phantom of the Opera is my favorite musical—even if I despise the ending—and my favorite movie is Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron. My favorite book is anything that has a good story-line to it as well as action and adventure. Though I love animals, my favorite is a horse and I'm absolutely scared to death of frogs. Don't know why, I just am. As for my motto in life... I guess I really don't have one, though I did recently read one that went like something this: 'Love those you trust with all your heart, because it is better to feel pain than nothing at all. Trust those you love completely and wholly, because it is truly a rare gift to find. And always keep faith and hope because no matter the trial, they get you through.' I suppose it makes sense, and maybe I should try to make it my motto. Not sure yet...


Pushing up my glasses, I looked up from my writing to Gemma who had called out my name from across the playground. A day had passed since my encounter with Savannah Peterson and I'd been stalking around the house like a territorial alpha wolf—as my mother put it—ever since. I guess that was just yet another inexplicable part of my nature. So Mom had urged—actually it ended up more like an order—me to take Gemma to the local park to get some fresh air. After much reluctance and one of Gemma's famous puppy-dog looks, I'd agreed. So, after gathering up my new diary and a pen, my sister and I had set out on a quest to investigate the new park. It was a nice little place actually; located near the edge of the town next to the woods. It had a small water park, a picnic area, a playground—as I've already mentioned—a small camping area, and biking and hiking trails. Being next to the woods it had plenty of trees for shade and stayed surprisingly cool in the hot summer sun.

But getting back to the topic at hand, as I said before, Gemma had called me and gotten my attention. " Yeah, Gem?" I called back from my spot beneath the park's weeping willow tree—the tree for which it was named I'm sure.

" Can you come out and push me?" my sister called back from the swing-set across the way.

I sighed heavily. The swing-set was a good fifteen yards away, and though it was shaded by a couple of huge oak trees, there was still a decent sized patch of hot sun that I'd have to walk through in order to reach it, and I wasn't really one for the heat. Besides, I was feeling really lazy today. " Do you really need to be pushed?" I asked.

" Well, no," Gemma admitted as she continued to swing. " Not really. But it'd be a lot more fun if you pushed me. After all, you push really hard and fast and I go higher."

I tilted my head and assessed the situation. Gemma did like it when I pushed her on the swing—even if she was old enough to be able to pump herself—and truthfully I enjoyed it too. But the fact remained of the sun and heat and I was sweating enough as it was. " Mmm, I dunno…"

" Please?" Gemma begged. " Pretty please with sugar on top and molasses on the bottom?"

I grinned and laughed. " Okay," I finally gave in. " I'll come and push you." With that I put my pen in my diary, closed it, hooked the loop back around the button, and stood up. I made my way across to the swing-set, got around behind Gemma—who had since stopped swinging—and started to push her. After just about four pushes Gemma was flying high and fast and we were both laughing hard. It was fun to just unwind and let loose sometimes.

After a few minutes Gemma told me that she was high enough and it was okay if I stopped pushing, so I told her we'd be leaving in about half and hour and went back to my spot beneath the willow tree across the way to continue writing. I froze mid-stride. My diary… it was gone! My heart racing, I went into a frenzy and began searching the area frantically. I did just about everything but take an ax to the tree, and I was in such a panic I probably would've done that too if an ax had been anywhere nearby. I searched through every nook and cranny of the tree, climbed up into the tree, searched through every patch of tall grass, but it was nowhere to be found. Where was it?! Where the hell was it?! I was in such tizzy that I didn't hear or notice anyone standing behind me until they touched my shoulder.

" Excuse me," a voice said as a hand gently gripped my shoulder.

Startled, I whipped around ready for anything… or so I thought.

The owner of the voice and the hand was a boy of about seventeen with medium brown hair that was slightly spiked and sparkling blue-gray eyes. He was a little over six-feet tall and was muscular—not excessively muscular but muscular enough to be considered ripped. He wore a style of jeans that was typical of teenage boys to wear, a maroon muscle shirt, and a pair of DC shoes. His jaw and chin had slight stubble and… well… the best way I can describe him all 'round is that he could've won a Liam Hemsworth look-alike contest—so yeah, he was pretty damn hot.

My face felt hot and I knew I had to be blushing terribly. That thought just made the blush worse.

The boy gave me a smile that could've melted the polar ice caps and released a chuckle that made my heart do flip-flops and my stomach tickle with butterflies. " You can put your fists down and relax, you know," he chuckled in a voice that was surprisingly deep and smooth for someone of his age. " I'm not gonna hurt you."

That's when I remembered that I was in a fighting stance and slowly slid in a poorly attempted relaxed posture with my arms crossed over my practically non-existent chest. Not for the first time I cursed my body's obstinate resistance towards some forms of normal puberty and exuberant acceptance of others (yeah, girls, you all know what I'm talking about). I cleared my throat and my mouth suddenly went dry. " S-sorry," I managed to stammer. I looked up at him and quickly looked back down, unable to keep eye contact.

" It's okay," he assured me. " I'm Bryce by the way." He held his hand out.

" Artemis," I introduced myself as I took his hand and shook it. The action of touching his hand caused my heart to feel like it was going to burst out of my chest and a happy shiver to run down my spine. My blush became even hotter. I quickly released his hand and averted my eyes back to the ground.

Bryce didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't care because he continued to smile at me. " 'Artemis'," he repeated my name, " that's a pretty cool name."

I quickly looked back up at him to see if he was joking—it wasn't the first time that someone had made a crack about my name—but he wasn't joking. A slight smile tugged at my lips. " Thanks," I giggled. " Holy crap, he's cute!" I thought to myself for about the hundredth time, using everything I had within me to keep from blurting it out. " 'Bryce' i-is a…" I cleared my throat, "… a p-p-pretty cuel… uh, cool," I quickly corrected myself, " name too." Once again I silently cursed myself out. Damn! Why did I always get so tongue-tied around cute guys?

A silence fell between us and during that silence I watched as Bryce looked me over carefully. It was nearly impossible to read what he was thinking because he kept that same pleasant smile on his face the entire time, but I could just about bet he didn't like what he saw; and who could blame him? As far as looks went, mine weren't all that desirable.

Suddenly Bryce seemed to suddenly remember something. " Oh," he said, clearing his throat. " I'm sorry, I completely forgot why I came over here." As I pondered over whether that was a good thing or a bad thing—I was just about clueless when it came to guys and being a girl who wasn't boy-crazy didn't seem to help matters—Bryce held out a thick, black leather bound book that I hadn't even realized he was holding. " Is this yours?" he questioned.

" My diary!" I gasped. I quickly snatched it away from him and held it close to me as if it were the most precious thing in the world—which to me it was. Looking it over I determined that it had sustained no damage, but still held it protectively. " I've been looking everywhere for this!"

" Yeah, my little brother must've wandered over here and found it because he brought it to me." Suddenly Bryce snorted. " You shoulda seen the look on his face. You coulda sworn that he'd found the key to El Dorado or something. Sorry for causing you the grief."

I gave him a small smile. In all the towns and communities I'd moved to, no one I'd ever met had ever been this nice to me upon first meeting me… and a lot of the time even after. " It's okay," I assured him. " I've got a little sister myself so I know what it's like." Suddenly I became a little suspicious. " You didn't open…"

" No," Bryce quickly shot down the question. " Nope, I didn't and he didn't either. Well, he probably would have if I hadn't taken it from him—the whole nosy little kid thing, ya know. But I know a little thing or two about privacy and when I asked him where he'd found it and I saw you looking over here I knew it had to be yours."

" Thanks," I replied with a smile, admiring him for being honest, when most guys I'd met would've taken the chance to read my journal… not that there was a whole lot in it yet. " So what's your brother's name?"

" James," Bryce answered, " but we all call him 'Jimmy'. He just turned ten. What about your sister?"

" Gemma," I replied. " She's nine, but if you ask her she's nine-and-a-quarter."

Bryce laughed and nodded, obviously understanding completely what I meant. " You close to her?"

" Closer that I have ever been to anybody in my entire life," I confessed. " Sometimes it seems like we're a little too close. Not often but sometimes. What about you and Jimmy?"

" Not quite as close as you and Gemma," he answered with a shake of his head. " After he was born I didn't spend much time with him because, well for one, he was a baby and what seven-year-old boy wants to deal with that? And two, around that time I was doing little league baseball, and soccer, and pee-wee football so we just never really got to know each other. The divorce of our parents a couple years ago sorta brought us closer together though—the whole world being torn apart thing—but now he's getting into that pre-teen age and he's starting to get really annoying, so we're back to our old selves again."

" I never really had much of a chance to push Gemma off to the side like that, despite the age difference," I remarked with an understanding nod. " Our parents were always fighting even after she was born so I was the one who had to look out for her and vice-versa."

" Your parents divorced?"

" Mm, more like Mom finally did something that made Dad take his walking papers. I was only ten when he left, haven't seen him since."

" I'm sorry," Bryce replied softly.

I shrugged as if it was no big deal. " It's okay. I'm used to it now… if you can ever get used to something like that, that is." Suddenly I realized something. I was having a conversation! An actual heart to heart conversation with somebody without sarcasm or condescension or anything that I normally used when talking to somebody. " Wow," I thought to myself and grinned, fairly proud of myself. My happiness was quickly squashed however when all of a sudden I came face to face with my sworn enemy: Savannah Peterson.

Almost coming out of nowhere, the golden-haired beauty sidled up alongside Bryce and slipped her arm through his. " Bryce," she purred her melodious voice grating at every nerve in my body, " what's taking you so long? I thought you were going to come right back. I've missed you." Her eyes came to me and her face took on a twisted and conniving sneer.

I gave her an evil eye in return.

" Sorry, babe," Bryce replied, making my heart and spirits plummet even lower than they already had, " I got caught up in a conversation here. Savannah this is…"

" Artemis Savage," the girl interrupted still eyeing me coldly. " Yes, I know. We've already met. Artemis," she greeted me politely, something I'm sure she would never have done without her boyfriend standing there.

" Savannah," I said courteously back with a nod of my head.

Bryce looked back and forth between us with confusion. " How did you two…"

" She and her mom came over to my house with a house-warming present," I answered before he could finish, without looking away from his girlfriend. Then I said to Savannah, " By the way, would you tell your mom thanks for the pie? It was delicious." Not a lie; the pie had actually been one of the best peach pies I'd ever had.

" I'll be sure to tell her," Savannah replied, and I could tell that she too was telling the truth. Then all of a sudden she seized Bryce's head in her hands and pulled him into an overly deep, overly passionate kiss.

" Ew," I muttered and looked away from their make-out session, unable to ignore the slight jealousy in my heart. Of course a guy like him would belong to a girl like her. That's always how it was. I groaned in disgust at the sound of their moaning as they continued to kiss.

After an eternity they pulled apart. Savannah rested her head on Bryce's chest and traced over his muscles with a perfectly manicured delicate finger. " Come back to the party, baby," she pouted. " It's no fun without you."

Much to my dismay Bryce took her hand, raised it to his lips, and gently kissed her fingers. Then he cupped her cheek. " Sure thing, babe," he whispered back. He put his arm around her waist and they both turned to walk away. Looking back over his shoulder, Bryce waved. " See ya, Artemis," he bade me goodbye. " Nice meeting you."

Despite my disappointment and envy I managed to force a polite smile on my face and wave back. " Yeah, you too, Bryce. See ya around."

Suddenly Savannah turned back too with another wicked smile curving up her lips. " Oh, and by the way, Arty," she hissed poignantly, " it looks like you have a little dirt on your chest or something. You might wanna wash it off." She was talking about the birthmark on the left flat of my chest.

It took all I had not to sneer dangerously at Savannah, but somehow I managed it. Still smiling, I said, " It's a birthmark, but thanks for the advice. Nice to see you again, Savannah."

The bitch just glowered at me and turned away and I couldn't help but be happy with myself for pissing her off, but my smile and happiness quickly dropped as Bryce turned away. I sighed heavily as I watched him make his way back to his friends, his arm still around Savannah. I continued to gaze after them until I felt a tug on my hand. Looking down, I was met with Gemma's quizzical expression.

" Who was that?" she asked.

" His name's Bryce," I answered looking back off in the direction the couple had gone.

" And he is?" Gemma's voice came back, and from the sound in her voice, I could tell she knew that I liked Bryce.

" Taken," I muttered gloomily, knowing that I would never have a shot with Bryce. After all, who in their right mind would take a girl who looked like me over a girl who looked like Savannah Peterson? I was doomed to die an old maid: old, alone, and bitter—and I already had the "alone" and "bitter" parts down. Sighing once again, I put my arm around my sister's shoulders and started to lead her off. " Come on. We better get home."

We were just about ready to exit the park when all of a sudden something caught my eye. Looking up into the clear blue sky, I saw a flash of fire and then smoke. " Gem, look!" I cried out, pointing to the object.

Immediately Gemma's head shot up and her eyes widened in both awe and alarm. " What is that thing?"

I shook my head. " I-I dunno. It… it looks like a meteor or something. Damn, look at how fast it's moving!"

The meteor shot through the sky and just a second later a thunderous boom shook the earth and everything around us, knocking us off our feet. Windows shattered, car alarms went off, dogs started barking, birds screamed, and people cried out in panic. It was the craziest, scariest, and most amazing thing ever!

After a moment, I pushed myself up off the ground and shook my thoughts back into place. " Shit," I muttered to myself, rubbing my hip. There was going to be a bruise there in the morning. I turned my attention to my sister who was lying in a heap beside me. " Gem?" I said, reaching over and shaking her shoulder. " Gem, you okay?"

Groaning, Gemma opened her eyes and started to sit up. " Mm… yeah," she answered rubbing her head, " I-I think so. What was that?"

" The meteor," I answered, looking back up to the sky where the smoke trail was still lingering. My eyes followed it across the sky and back into the park where it disappeared over the tops of the trees, and that's when I knew that the meteor had landed and where it was. I don't know how I knew, but I did. And what's more… I wanted—in fact, felt like I had—to go find it. Standing up I brushed myself off, then reached down, grabbed my sister's wrist, and pulled her to her feet. " Come on," I told her, pulling her along in the direction of the trees. " Let's go find that thing!"

Gemma yanked out of my grip. " Are you crazy?" she demanded, putting her hands on her hips. " We don't even know what that thing is let alone where it came from!"

I shot her a cynical look. " It's a frickin' meteor," I stated. " It came from outer space."

" Exactly!" Gemma exclaimed. " For all we know it could have some sort of diseases on it!" Her eyes became even wider and she gasped. " It could have some sort of alien "spoons" on it!"

I rolled my eyes in annoyance. " It's spores," I corrected her. " It's alien spores. And there are no such things as aliens. Now stop being a 'fraidy cat and come on!" I reached out to snag her arm again but she backed away.

" No!" she said defiantly. " No! I'm not going and you can't make me!"

I gave her an annoyed look and then shrugged. " Okay, fine," I conceded, " I'll just go myself. Can only imagine the look on Mom's face when she finds out I got disintegrated." And with that I spun on my heel and sprinted off in the direction the meteor had gone. Was I stupid for running off to investigate an object from outer space? Yes. Did I really care? No. All I wanted was to find that meteor. It almost seemed like I was being beckoned to it.


I don't really know how long or far I ran: time and distance just sort of seemed to lump together and slip to the wayside. All I knew is that it seemed to take forever to get to the crash site, and once I did I couldn't believe what I saw. Standing at the edge of the crater, I looked down and gasped.

About ten or so feet below me wasn't a meteor but a… I don't even know what the hell it was! It wasn't rock, it was metal; and it was smooth and in a perfect oval shape rather than rough and craggy. Even in the shade of the trees it glowed a strange silvery-blue light like a star, and what I had first thought was smoke was actually steam rising off of it.

My heart pounded in my ears and my stomach twisted into a series of tight knots. All of a sudden I began to wonder if what I had said about aliens not being real was true. Despite my fear, I still felt like the… pod… was calling me, and that urge to listen was stronger than any horror and uncertainty I felt. Carefully, I crawled over the edge of the crater and slid down the side. When I reached the bottom the pod was only four feet away from me. Now I could actually hear a sound coming from it: a single high-pitched, beautiful, harmonious note. I could also see that the surface of the pod was not completely smooth and that there were thousands of strange hieroglyphics sketched across it that glowed a dimmer darker blue than the silvery-blue light I had seen up on the edge. Suddenly my eyes found a symbol on the pod that looked exactly like my birthmark: a three and a lowercase H that were underlined with the line having four tails coming off the bottom. Slowly I stood and took a step forward, eyes glued to the symbol. Stopping just in front of the pod, I reached out with a trembling hand and ever so lightly touched the mark.

At the exact same moment the pod hissed open and, with a strange whirring and clanking noise, it folded back and transformed into a pedestal. The silver-blue light was now a vertical beam of energy rising out of the top of the pedestal and suspended in the light was a shard. The shard was metal and was a dark gray almost black color, like it had been scorched. The same symbols that had marked the surface of the pod were sketched on the shard too, and glowed.

That clear ringing pitch that I had heard coming from the pod before had now increased in volume and was pressing in on my eardrums, making it feel like they were going to burst with the pressure, but I didn't turn away. I continued to simply stare at the shard.

" Touch the shard…" a sudden voice whispered in my head.

I hesitated.

" Touch the shard…" it repeated.

That time I slowly obeyed. Lifting up a hand, I began to reach out towards the shard. I was almost grabbing it when suddenly a scream caught my attention.

" Artemis, no!"

Jerking my hand back, I jumped and looked up to the top of the crater to see Gemma standing there, staring at me in horror. She must have followed me.

" Touch the shard," the voice returned, except this time it was more firm and it didn't whisper.

I turned back to the shard and began to reach for it again.

" Artemis, no!" Gemma wailed again.

" Touch the shard."

" I'm sorry, Gemma," I said.

" Don't touch it! You don't know what'll happen!"
" Touch the shard."

" You can't!"

" I have to."

" Touch the shard!"

I seized hold of the shard. Immediate, excruciating, searing pain ripped up my arm and through my body. My head snapped back and my mouth opened in a scream of agony but no sound came out. My muscles spasmed and my hair snapped free of its braid and flowed around me. The symbols that had once marked the shard now marked my body and glowed with the silvery-blue light.

Thousands of ages of history, knowledge, and information flashed before my eyes and were seared into my brain in a matter of seconds before the shard crumbled to dust and fell from my hand. Suddenly the pedestal exploded into a blinding flash of bright blue light and I was blown back against the side of the crater where I went limp. Everything began to fade into darkness. The last thing I remember was the picture of a tall magnificent being of machine, decorated in blue and red flamed armor with pristine blue eyes that pierced into my soul and my birthmark upon his cheeks.


Diego Garcia;

Optimus stood out on the beach, the cool water lapping at his pads. As he so often did nowadays, he gazed off into the horizon, a cold, hard, distant expression shadowing his faceplates. A week and a day had passed since the anniversary, and just like always each day since then had gotten worse and worse and worse. Prime could feel the darkness taking over more of his spark each day. He didn't want it to happen, he didn't want to give in to it, but he didn't know how to fight it. As for that "second chance" that he was so sure had to have been out there for him somewhere, he was now pretty convinced that that had been wishful thinking plain and simple. He didn't get a second chance; he'd just been sent back for kicks. As far as he was concerned anymore, Primus was one sick twisted son of a glitch.

The rest of the Autobots were watching the figure of their solitary commander from inside their hangar home.

" What's with Prime?" Chromia questioned from her position in Ironhide's lap.

'Hide looked at his spark-mate, then looked off through the doors in the direction of the lonely Prime. After a minute, he shrugged. " Beats me," he replied. Then he studied Optimus a bit harder for a moment. " However, something has seemed to have been eating at him for a while."

The whole group fell silent as they stared at their commander.

" He's definitely quiet today," Ratchet agreed.

" A lot more than usual," Arcee put in, reminding everybody that since his revival, Optimus had not been the 'Bot he once was.

" Maybe somebody should talk to him," Bumblebee suggested with a comment through his radio.

" Don't look at us!" Skids and Mudflaps immediately spoke in unison. They jumped to their pads and held their arms out in front of them as if to ward of conflict. " He'd bust our asses if we tried!"

" Don't worry, you two," Chromia put the twins at ease. " You won't talk to him. Ironhide will."

" What?!" the black armored mech screeched.

" You've known him longest, 'Hide," Ratchet pointed out, a smirk coming over his lipplates.

" So?!" 'Hide demanded.

" So, it'll be easier for you to connect with him," Ratchet explained.

Ironhide was a complete loss for words. He opened his mouth to try and protest, but nothing came out, so he just sat there with his jaw dropped and head shaking. Finally after a minute he found his voice. " Oh, no!" he barked. " Not happenin'!"

That's when Chromia cuddled into his neck, causing him to stop and look at her. " Please, sweet-spark?" she begged in baby talk. " Please can't you do it…" she looked up into his optics, "… for me."

Ironhide stared at her wordlessly, but a pleasured shiver ran through his chassis and she pressed her smooth curving, femme frame into his rough, bulky, mech one.

" Please?" 'Mia asked again. " It would make me so happy." Then she raised her head and ran her lips along his neck as she brought her mouth closer to his audio-receptor. " And maybe, just maybe I'll give you a little present tonight for it," she purred seductively, her lipplates slightly tickling his audio-receptor.

Ironhide shivered again and closed his eyes in a dreamy way. Unintentionally, his mind slipped away to their room. He could almost feel his hands running up and down her soft curves. He could almost see them lying upon their berth, becoming one machine as they…

" So what'd'ya say, 'Hide?" Flareup questioned.

Ironhide snapped out of his daydream. " Hell, no!" he bellowed again, remembering the situation at hand. " No way in pit am I tryin' to get inside that thick head of his!"

Suddenly Chromia dropped her flirty sultry femme act and slipped into her battlefield persona. She seized hold of 'Hide's chest-armor and jerked him so their faces were mere micrometers apart. " Ironhide," she snarled, " you are going to talk to him or else you won't be getting anything tonight or any other night for a long time!"

" But…"

" And if you say 'but' one more time, I'm going to rip off your interface rod so you won't be able to get anything ever again!"

'Hide's eyes widened in fear and disbelief. He opened his mouth again, but once he saw the deadly look on his spark-mate's faceplate he closed it. Then he looked at Optimus and back to the group.

They all turned away.

Taking one last look back at the Prime, the weapons specialist snarled and spoke some choice words in Cybertronian before slipping out from under Chromia, standing, and sulking his way out of the hangar, across the tarmac, down the beach, and over to Prime.

" Ironhide," the Prime greeted the approaching mech without even turning around.

'Hide suddenly trembled. It gave him the creeps whenever Optimus did that, almost like the Prime had optics in the back of his head. He pushed aside his heebie-jeebies. " Prime," he greeted back, stopping beside his commander and staring off into the distance for moment. Then slowly, he looked at Optimus.

" What seems to be the trouble?" the blue and red flamed Autobot questioned, still not looking at the black mech.

Ironhide suddenly looked down to the ground and began to rub the back of his head awkwardly. " Nothin' really," he replied. " It's just that… well…"

" Yes?"

" Well, it's just that, you may not know it Prime, but you haven't been actin' yourself for quite some time."

" Is that so?"

" Yeah, and, uh, we're all getting kinda worried 'bout ya."

Optimus was silent for a moment, running this information over in his processor. Then he shook his head. " You needn't be worried, Ironhide," he said. " I am perfectly fine." He knew 'Hide was right, but he didn't want to—in fact, couldn't—admit to it.

'Hide gave an awkward chuckle. " See, uh, that's the problem there, Prime. You're not fine."

" How am I not fine?" Optimus' voice sounded clipped with strained patience.

" Well…" 'Hide drew out the word, "… it's just that, ever since Sam brought you back, you've been a little different. And lately, you've been becoming even more reclusive and quiet than usual."

" Ironhide," Optimus scoffed, " you know as well as anyone that I am not a social or talkative 'Bot. I prefer to be off by myself."

" Yeah, that's true," the other mech agreed, " but it's never been to this extent. You're constantly locked in your quarters. You hardly ever come out, and when you do, you don't talk to anybody at all. And half the time when you do you're always yellin' at 'em for something. We're just all worried about you," 'Hide went on.

Just then Optimus turned on the mech. All thirty-six feet of him shifted and glared down on Ironhide's twenty-seven feet with a merciless expression. " Ironhide, are you trying to tell me that I am not fit to command this team any longer?" he snarled.

" No!" 'Hide answered quickly. " Of course not. I'm just sayin'…"

" I will have you know, old friend, that I am the very same mech I was the day we first arrived on this planet. I have not changed a bit and I most certainly have control over my emotions!"

'Hide was speechless. He risked a quick glance over his shoulder up to the hangar at their audience, and then he looked back into the snarling face of his commander. Oh, he was going to get his aft torn apart! Taking a small step back, he hoped to slip away.

But Optimus stayed with him. " Perhaps, if you and the others have a problem with my attitude as of late, you should take a course in improving your own, because—and I repeat—I have not changed a day since we came here! And you, Ironhide, can take that to the bank!"

" Right, Prime," Ironhide agreed.

" And I'll tell you something else. I…" suddenly Optimus dropped off as something across the water drew his attention. He turned his head to look.

At first, the light was very dim, hardly noticeable. Then it began to get brighter and brighter until it was so bright it outshone the sun. The pristine blue light hung in the air for a minute, illuminating the atmosphere. Then it was gone as quickly as it had come.

By now, all Autobots had sprinted down the beach and gathered at the side of their commander. They all stared off in the direction of the light.

An eerie silence fell over the island, with nothing but the gentle lapping of the waves against the sand and the pads of the aliens.

" Wh-what was that?" Sideswipe barely breathed after a minute.

Optimus was silent for a moment. There was only one thing he had ever seen that could make that type of light. But it was nearly impossible. The only piece left of it was now within the chest of Megatron after it had been used to spark him back to life. The other had been destroyed along with the Fallen. There couldn't possibly be a third… could there? " The AllSpark," Prime answered quietly. " It was a shard of the All… augh!" Optimus suddenly doubled over, arms wrapped around himself, faceplates twisted and pinched in obvious discomfort. Sharp, shooting, burning pain pulsed through his systems like a tidal wave with every beat of his spark. Groaning, the Prime sank to his knees in the sand.

The rest of the team looked on in horror.

Ratchet stepped forward and put a hand on his old friend's shoulder. " Prime? Prime are you…" and then suddenly Ratchet too was falling to the ground in pain, clutching at his head.

Soon all of the others were joining them, all of their bodies and ligaments feeling like they were on fire. The pain grew so intense that soon they were passing out from it.

It wasn't minutes before Optimus was the only one conscious, and even then, just barely. As he faded into blackness an image of a young human girl flashed through his mind. She was about fourteen or fifteen, had beautiful hazel-green eyes that could look straight through him, and ebony hair that was streaked with silver, red, and blue. Upon her chest was the mark of the Primes.