"I'm going," Sam said determinedly.

Optimus cringed slightly while letting out a deep vent of air in mid frustration and fear. "Ante Finem-" he began while trying to placate the other, but Sam would have none of it. "I am going, Optimus Prime."

The rest of the group was mildly amused, yet understood Optimus' frustration.

"It's dangerous."

"I'll be fine."

"You don't have a weapon."

"I won't be fighting on the main field."

Optimus sighed in a reoccurring habit he was slowly gaining from Sam. "It is much safer here."

"It is much more productive there."

"Slag it!" Ratchet shouted as Optimus opened his mouth to retaliate. "Just bring him along!"

Sam tried to show his appreciation to the said ranting CMO who was now retaliating against their esteemed leader, but both knew it was not for Sam's sake. As of now, he was the only one who knew of the location and pass code to the generator and launcher. Thus there truly was no choice, but Optimus had still demanded they search for other conclusions.

The plan was truly risky, and even now, Sam could feel the buzz of trepidation from the surrounding soldiers with their massive forms and, likewise, intense EM fields. It was almost suffocating if it wasn't for the constant presence of Optimus Prime's own EM field forcing out persistent waves of calm which dully reminded Sam of his earlier days in the Iacon Halls. It was a reluctant memory and Sam squashed away his qualms as quickly as they had arrived.

There was little options they had left. A testament to why Sam's plan had been so favored by the small group of officers, informants, and relaying scouts. For now, the information they had garnered from enemy troops attested to the future's predicaments, and for a few cycles at least, the present aligned with Sam's memories. But it would be a fleeting moment of success. A brief wrinkle in time that actually made sense, that Sam could successfully predict, and that for once, he could conclude with certainty.

But their time was waning, and the momentary parallels of space would once again separate in the span of an eclipse. So, with that conclusion, Sam had used as much information as his processor could recollect from the hazy past though his conscious had less clarity than preferred.

The remaining Autobots would be split into two groups with a larger ambush team being the predominant basis of the first. A majority of fast paced platoons taking the second shift to Tyger Pax. It was a pitiful tactic of desperation that had Sam cringing, practically sinking his spark into oblivion, but it was all they had. It was the only path he could take that would ensure success, and with the fluctuation of time changing so rapidly, drastically at certain points, Sam could not risk changing the future any more than he wanted to. So with the dangers of awakening a true battle of annihilation, Sam had to risk it all.

Sam watched the others. The air fizzing with private connections opening and closing at rapid speed. A small greeting followed by vows of encouragement, godspeed, and then a final parting. Their bonds falling away through mental blocks partially to ensure they would not become a liability, so that the enemies would have no reason to keep them alive as prisoners or bait alike, and finally, so friends and family would never know the pain of their loved one's descent. It was a small blessing.

The two groups had parted. A death march through silent terrain. Cybertron's own children treading across their land in a one last communion. The weight of their ideals, their dreams, their futures, a ever constant reminder upon their sparks more so mental than physical but painful all the same.

The first group had arrived to the very same back tunnels that Sam had escaped from. The crowd peering quietly into the depths of the ancient pits watching the shadows grow as the luminescent stones cascaded into eternal darkness from Cybertron's dying breath blowing only wisps of remaining life into her creations. Sam could only stare back into the abyss.

Only a few joors before had Sam been parting with Arcee and Bee.

Sam found himself torn. Save Bumblebee, or ensure his duty and follow Optimus. With a slight grimace of pain, optics alight with regret, Sam turned to Bumblebee, placing his servo gently on the taller's helm which Bee automatically leaned in towards like the touch of a mother. "Be safe," he whispered quietly, willing it in his words and praying, begging the Allspark to make it true, even if he knew it would not. "I'll see you on the other side."

He then turned to Arcee who immediately nodded her helm. She remembered that promise, and that was all the reassurance Sam needed.

But Sam couldn't stop the dread, the pain of it all. This was good-bye. He could feel it, and it seemed they could feel it too.

The two had then turned away, preparing to leave with the second unit in a dangerous suicide run. They would be targeted as a ruse, separated with no back up against the larger forces of Decepticons, and if Sam's memory served, against Megatron as well. They were small sacrifices against the bigger picture and for all those infiltrating the old base for one final stand. It seemed unnecessarily cruel to Sam for the younger bots to be picked for the mission, but such measures required speed and it seemed youth correlated in a painful twist of irony.

Sam still remembered it. Some bitter notions remaining, stuck to his glossa.

"Arcee. Can you promise me something?"

Arcee and Bee paused before glancing back at Sam and giving him a one handed salute.

"Of course."

Bee turned away.

"I need you to protect Bee when I can't be there."

Arcee took a moment longer to glance at Sam with one final flick of her optics before she too turned her back to him one last time.

But that had been joors before. Their connection from the platoons had long been separated from distance, time, and quite possibly death. There was no turning back now, and Sam could only look grimly into the future of the shadows they were now about to step into.

With a final breath, Sam whispered quietly a soft prayer, some chant to ease his mind and soothe his racing spark. But no sooner had his voice vibrated through the contours of his throat, did Sam stop in befuddlement. His glossa did not move. His mouth could not form the whispers as they died listlessly in his throat.

With a bated breath Sam realized he had forgotten how to speak English.

AN- Short update, but hopefully it clears up some events. First of all, the promise Arcee and Sam made occurred in chapter 18, if anyone remembers that long ago. Secondly, his inability to speak English is supposed to be the last shred of humanity taken away from him, and a sign that because he has lost his humanity, God, and other divine beings (whatever you believe in) will not save him because he can not communicate with them. And thirdly, the conversation at the beginning is supposed to be based off of the many conversations I have with my friends... spoil sports...