(3 months, 2 day since incident)

"Now, Mrs. Darby, You've switched vehicles in the last year."

"Well, yes."

Across from the government agent, June tried to keep her tone conversational. Any amount of defensive behavior might tip these gentlemen off. So even with a valid explanation for the loss of her car, she would wait until –

"And why is that?"

"There was those freak storms a year ago? My old car got caught by a tornado."

The interrogations had been the topic of whispered conversation throughout the hospital for the past two and a half months. At first it was assumed that some accusation of malpractice had arisen among the doctors. Distrust had arisen among the staff, tension was growing. Then the actual one on one interrogations started and June's fears were realized.

"They asked me about my car!" A fellow nurse, Daphne, was the first. She had come back from her meeting with the agents completely confused. A small group had gathered around her to hear it, and someone barked out an unplanned laugh in the silence. Tension vanished. There was no malpractice. Perhaps some vehicle company was under investigation.

The agent in front of June flipped through a few pages. "And your son… he had a motorcycle until recently, is that correct?"

"Yes. And believe me it worried the tar out of me!"

"Really?" There was clear interest in the agent's eyes.

"Have you seen the injuries people get from motorcycle accidents? Everyday he's out on that thing, I worry that the next patient that rolls in is going to be my son."

This was not a rant she had to create on the spot, nor was it in anyway a lie, which certainly helped validate the lie that she would tell.

"But not anymore," June's tone switched from exasperation to no-nonsense in the way only a mother can manage. "I caught him being reckless with it, and so I made him get rid of it."

"Was there anything odd about his motorcycle?"

June gave a long and thoughtful pause, "I don't know."

The interrogation went on for sometime, always dancing around the edges, beating around the bush. Nothing directly asked about the Autobots.

"Have you been in any advisory roles?"

June blinked, not seeing this question coming or how it was relevant, "I… As a nurse I'm almost always in…"

"I mean outside of the hospital. Have you ever had a job that you were providing medical advice?"

If I don't get this boy stabilized now he will not be leaving this table alive!

"No."

Inside June winced at her own answer. It sounded dodgy, and the agent had paused to make a note.

The interrogation took another sudden turn, to asking about her coworkers. While she had nothing to hide there, June's guard did not go down again for the rest of the interrogation. She wondered – no, worried – if the agent saw it.

At Jasper's Memorial High School, frustration had taken a hold. It wasn't simply the finals. In fact, Jack wasn't sure the finals even factored into this. Sierra had simply up and ignored him. He couldn't remember exactly when it started happening, but it had been going on for months.

Not in the halls, not at lunch, and not even in trig. Any homework aid that she had requested before, Sierra did not follow up on. Jack once asked if she wanted to get together to work on the next assignment. Without answering, she gathered up her books and walked out of the classroom. He did not ask again.

Just outside the front doors, feet rushed out slapping and pounding against the concrete to carry their owners to buses, cars, or a significant enough distance to shun the academic building as they discussed with friends. Jack's feet did not carry him so far. On one of the landings of the stairs leading to the school, he leaned back up against the railing. The surge of students narrowed to a more controlled stream as time passed by. Sierra walked passed him, not looking. Jack returned the favor.

In his deliberate avoidance, his eyes shifted to the row of vehicles and his heart stopped.

A blue motorcycle sat parked. He blinked his eyes hard, not sure if he believed it. But no, there she waited. Jack pushed through the crowd, never removing his eyes for a moment. If he blinked again, she really might vanish.

The pink highlights, the sleek design. Arcee…?

He blinked and swore.

But she was still there! Waiting silently just like she always did.

Her front wheel was pointed towards him. She always did that too, when she looked at him. And she had looked back that day she left. His father never looked back, never came back, but she…

Arcee!

You're here! How?

"Gorgeous, huh?"

Jack froze, half turned. Behind him three paces with a motorcycle helmet under his arm, Mr. Peterson grinned.

"Was that other one yours?"

Words failed Jack as his pulse stopped. It was if his very heart was holding its breath.

"Because I saw a student riding around on one and dang if that wasn't a beauty! And I always wanted a bike. So I got this little lady, and asked for a custom paint scheme. You don't mind do you? Or are you young ones still on that 'before it was cool' kick?"

Jack stared.

Oblivious, Mr. Peterson strapped on the helmet, straddled the motorcycle, and kicked off from the curb. Jack watched until the science teacher vanished behind the row of buses.

"Good thing those agents your mom talked about aren't checking the school."

Jack didn't respond to Raf immediately. When he did, he said quietly, "It wasn't her, Raf."

"I know. I saw Mr. Peterson on there."

Sierra would not have admitted it, but she watched the exchange from her peripheral vision. The conversation with Mr. Peterson was loud enough with the teacher boasting about his new bike, but with once Jack started talking with the middle school kid, she could not catch anything. The middle schooler reached up to touch Jack's arm in a comforting manner. The two stood like that for some time. Sierra's brow wrinkled. Those two boys were certainly odd –

"Where's Miko?" Jack asked suddenly.

– and Sierra didn't give a rip. She gave a little huff and turned back to crew of friends, barely giving notice to the middle school kid's reply.

"Where do you think?"

Sierra pointedly ignored both as they walked back up the stairs into the school. She really did not give a rip about who Jack was hanging out with. Really.

At Jasper's Memorial High School, a miracle had taken place. The whispered horror stories that had once circulated in the staff lounge had vanished, replaced by stories of wonderment countered sharply with disbelieving scoffs. Yet after a time, even the latter of those vanished into stunned praise. Miko Nakadai was becoming Memorial's star pupil.

In geography she listened with rapt attention, in algebra her scores were accelerating upwards, and even art history saw her best efforts. But no teacher had more stories about her than Mr. Peterson. That a boulder – no, that science – was the key to unlocking this terror's potential was enough to make his steps a little higher.

So it was that as finals week drew nearer, not a single teacher was surprised that Miss Nakadai was staying later at school of her own accord. She had, after all, been doing it for nearly three months. And it was there in Mr. Peterson's classroom that Raf and Jack found her, hunched over a scattering of papers.

"Wow, Mr. Peterson left you in here alone and you haven't blown the room to smithereens?"

The look Miko shot Jack's way was not amusement. Nor was it very long. It was only a matter of seconds before she was back working away at her class notes. "Not now. I'm studying."

"You've been studying for three months, Miko," Jack said. "Would it kill you to take a break, maybe walk home with us for once."

Miko did not look up as she replied, "Not today. Sorry."

"It's always 'not today.'" Raf stepped up close to her. "Even I don't study that much!"

"Well some of us aren't blessed with big brains like yours."

Raf shrank back, not at the words but at the tone. It was bitter and snapping. Jack stepped between them.

"Miko, that was unfair. And unkind. Look, we're all having a rough time with this. Even three months isn't enough really accept what happened but we need to – "

"Tell me, Jack," Miko snapped at him. "Who died and made you Optimus?"

This time her accusing tone hung in the air. Jack and Miko's glares were fixed on each other. Raf began backing away.

"Fine."

Jack pivoted on a heel and walked towards the door, "C'mon Raf."

Miko watched them leave. As the door swung shut with a click, her shoulders dropped low. Would she ever learn when to keep her mouth shut?

Below her hands were not just notes, but connections. Before her was not just a rock, but a boulder with energon veins. And if Miko could just solve this puzzle as to where Bulkhead and the rest might be, by herself, maybe she wouldn't be just a team pet any more.

Jack, Raf. I'm sorry. But I have to do this myself.

Jack said nothing while he walked Raf home. His jaw was still clenched tight. Raf fidgeted with the straps on his backpack.

"She's probably really stressed. With finals coming and all. She's never really done the best with them."

Jack didn't reply. Raf fidgeted more.

"Maybe she's trying to forget what happened. You know, go back to how her parents expected her to act in school. Or maybe her host family is fighting with each other, and she wants to stay out of it. Or maybe…"

Jack wasn't listening. Raf shut up and let his backpack straps go. At last at the Esquivel driveway, Raf turned to Jack once more, "Maybe if we had another dinner, like we did at your mom's at the beginning of the year."

"See ya, Raf."

And Jack was gone, walking off to work. Raf watched him go. "Don't hide from us," they'd told him way back on the first day of school. And here they were both hiding from him. Raf sat on the curb of the driveway, hugging his knees. He couldn't remember feeling this alone before.

He wanted 'Bee. 'Bee always listened.

Thinking of Bumblebee brought hot tears to Raf's eyes and he buried his face in his knees to hide them.

Bumblebee has had my back more times than I can count, Arcee had told Raf once, while Bumblebee was in distress over his lost T-Cog. Raf was at a complete loss of how to comfort his friend.

But the time I'll remember the most is when he saved me from myself. I was ready to murder Starscream. Slit his throat in cold energon. And then 'Bee was there, staring. Not saying a word. But that was enough to stop me. Because he reminded me what exactly I'm fighting for.

Sometimes we just need that reminder, and the only place we'll get it is those closest to us.

In between wet knees, Raf sniffed. Coming up, he rubbed his eyes. Three months was a long time. Jack, Miko, himself. Maybe they were all due a little reminder. The thought brought a little smile to his face.

June waited a significant amount of time after her interrogation to head home. Even though she was leaving far earlier than she ever had, those remaining hours dragged on long. She gripped the wheel tightly to calm her nerves that were still firing off twenty different signals at once.

The hum of her engine as the car started up almost sounded like a cat purring to ease away jitters. It helped a little. June felt her heart slow the further she drove form the hospital. Her breath followed suit.

Passing the burger joint Jack worked at, part of her was grateful that he wouldn't be home until later. June wanted a moment without eyes watching her every move. The other part of her wanted Jack to be home immediately. She knew that the agents hadn't found or suspected him or the other children, but sometimes even reason needs a little tactile reminder.

June eased on the brake as the stoplight ahead turned yellow. At red, she fully stopped. One other vehicle was at the intersection, waiting on the green on the road to her left.

Her heart lunged out of her chest as she realized what she was seeing. An unmistakable blue motorcycle. The light for the motorcycle turned green and out it pulled, taking a left down the road that June was driving. Towards their home.

It took all June's strength to keep her foot on the brake until her own light turned green again. Then she pulled out with such a force that left her tires squealing and her engine complaining. By that time, the motorcycle was gone from sight.

Her mind was jumbled. Was she angry with Arcee for returning? Or frightened for them all with the agents on the prowl? Was she going to yell at the Autobot? Or give her the biggest hug she could?

As she pulled into the driveway, she saw the garage closed. She left it that way, and sprinted in through the house. Through the man door, she burst into the garage, and found a distinct lack of Autobot.

But that was Arcee. Definitely Arcee.

June's phone was out of her pocket and ringing for Jack before she even thought it through.

"Hey, Mom. What's up?" Jack's voice startled her.

"Jack, where are you?"

"At work. I've only got five minutes to talk," belatedly, he caught onto her worried tone and added, "What's wrong?"

"Jack, I – "

I what? Might have seen your guardian driving around town? June bit her tongue. Jack had been slowly recovering from the Autobots' departure. The last thing any mother would want to do is rip an old wound wide open.

"Mom? I can come home. What's going on?" her worry had become his.

Jack was becoming an adult. A responsible adult. He could handle this. June took a breath.

"Jack, I think I saw… her. Just now."

On the other end of the line, Jack was silent.

"Jack, if you know anything about this, you need to tell me. The hospital is – "

"I know, Mom. It's not her."

June's heart broke for Jack as he said those words. Her sixteen-year-old son should not sound that old, that worn.

"One of the teachers at my school bought a motorcycle," Jack continued. "He'd seen me with Ar… with her, and he wanted the same type. So he got a custom paint job."

"Oh."

June could not think of anything else to say except, "I'm sorry, sweetie."

"Yeah. Me too."

He sounded so hurt. June wanted to start crying.

"I love you."

"I love you too. Bye."

With a click, the call ended. Then June did cry.

She sat on the cold concrete of the garage floor and cried.

She cried for a stressful day. She cried for the Autobots. But mostly she cried for her son.

Bill Fowler could not believe he was doing this.

It was a familiar place that his feet were set. A familiar place grip that his hands found. A familiar view that his eyes took in.

And it all felt like betrayal.

It felt like betrayal back in the prison, when Bryce had come to him again.

Fowler had watched the general enter. Bryce did not look pleased. Fowler couldn't help a little smirk, "Autobots staying off the radar? No mindless violence from Prime? Why is my surprise so limited?"

Bryce slipped into the chair on the other side of the glass. His mouth turned down more than usual. Fowler cut the act; he knew that look. It was a darker shade of grim than what he'd seen in the previous visits of Bryce.

"We need your help, Bill."

And here he was, out of the prison orange, directing men and work forces around an abandoned missile silo. The old Autobot base. Fowler felt sick, but he kept the men working to pull out three items.

"You're doing the right thing, Bill."

Fowler did not bother to glance over his shoulder at the general. He gripped the railing in front of him harder to keep from punching Bryce again. "My conscience is screaming at me enough right now. I don't need any reminders from you."

Bryce walked up to the railing, "Why can't you trust me anymore, Bill? Did you forget we served together, had each other's backs?"

"You don't trust me."

"I don't trust the Autobots."

"Whom I have vouched for yesterday, and will again tomorrow."

Bryce gave a small sigh.

The first item came out of one of the silo's long halls. Carefully tied to the back of a truck, it was treated with caution and care. The driver was taking care not to rattle or jostle the item.

Fowler gritted his teeth and bowed his head. Prime, I'm so sorry.

Two more trucks followed and with the last of them, Fowler felt very sick indeed.

Bryce turned to him, "Ready?"

Pushing against the railing, Fowler drew himself upright. He was a head taller than Bryce, and he looked down at the general. "The use of these are strictly for response to the recent Decepticon activity in the arctic."

"I already told you the answer to that."

"It wasn't a question."

They locked eyes and Bryce glared up at him, "Are you giving me an order?"

"Only if you want my help. Any information I give you is to be used against Decepticons only. If I don't have your word on that, handcuff me and toss me back in prison. After I punch you again."

Bryce's jaw worked in little circles, either remembering the previous punch or considering his options. Or both. There were three key weapons that they could use in their defense. Limiting their use was a stupid decision, but then again so was not knowing what they were dealing with. Lack of intel claimed too many lives as is. So Bryce relented.

"And you would take my word on it?" he asked.

"Contrary to what you might think," Fowler looked him straight in the eyes, "I do have some trust in you."

"Very well. These are weapons to be used only against Megatron's forces."

Bryce held out his hand; Fowler took it. The general then gestured to the devices before them. Fowler pointed each out, listing their name and function.

Polarity gauntlet.

Immobilizer.

Spark extractor.

The hand Fowler had shaken with Bryce felt cold, numb. The knot in his gut did not go away; it merely tightened and sat deeper. He had Bryce's word. Why did it still feel like betrayal?

The little being was awake in his hand again. They had been walking for some time, but saw no sign of the beast. It was all very quiet and still.

From his palm, the little one asked what they were going to do when they found the beast. He responded, "Stop it."

"You really expect a little fleshling to aid in that?" A chuckle arose from behind both of them.

He whirled about, rage building from within. There stood the beast, upright. The smile on its face was almost civil. From its claws dangled a fourth little being. An old soldier, dark skin, dark eyes. Unconscious from a lost battle that the soldier had fought well.

"This one did its best," the beast shook it a little, "but it was too little."

The clawed fist closed around the small soldier with a sickening crack.

He roared at the beast and began to lunge. Somehow the other little being had rushed ahead of him, shouting threats it could not keep. A single step from the beast silenced it.

His roar became a howl and he tackled it to the ground as it laughed. The beast seized him by the face and drove him into the ground. By the time he had pulled himself out, the beast was gone, and two small bodies lay broken before him.

Carefully he lifted both into his palms.

It would be a long walk to return.

He had two more graves to dig.

A/: How about that season finale!? Wow! After watching it I had lost a lot of the momentum I had for writing this tale as it turned out way better than anything I had planned. But then again, they are the professionals. So here comes the next chapter. Thanks again guys!

Also, did anyone spot the fan-named Eradicon in the last chapter? Dear Steve is in there.