Howdy all! Sorry for the long wait! College is pretty hectic and I've been having my nonexistent butt worked off in cardio kickboxing. Anyways, I hope everything is good for everyone and ya'll enjoyed Thursday's Saint Valentine's Day or as one girl I know calls it 'Singles Day'. I'm sorry for not getting anything out that day but my schedule has been pretty busy and this chapter—as well as the next four or five chapters—has been fighting me, even if it would have been perfect for Saint Valentines. Seriously, this has been the chapter all you avid readers have been waiting for.

Also, to answer your questions, no I haven't seen Bumblebee yet (though I plan to), but I have been watching that new series Gen:LOCK. Anyone else look into it? I honestly love it so far and find it very promising.

Now enough blabbering from me!

Onto acknowledgements!

Thank you to Estella prime, Steelcode, Shirodahero, Guest (1), ChaChaChaChan, NinjaGirl2009101, b. marr, Waterfront, BarrelRacer1205, bajy, Guest (2), Cinematronix, Sfrizz5959, ryannea. reed, J, The chemist 84, Wildwolf, Ma-ki Ji-ez, AzureWolf21, catheryne. sans, and those who favorited and followed myself and this story!

Disclaimer: I do no own Transformers Prime or any other recognizable works.

Chapter 36: White Knight

—Nightfall, Location Unknown—

Arms crossed and expression portraying nothing except bored annoyance, sharp grey eyes took in the man before me. Standing at about six foot nothing, I would hazard a guess that he was possibly somewhere in his forties. He had scarring on the left side of his face that reached for the edge of his silver-grey hairline all the way down to his rather squarish jaw, and another one that mimicked one of my own facial scars and ran horizontally across his nose too. But none of that changed the fact that when I looked into his extremely dark brown—practically black—eyes, I felt like I was looking into cold, soulless pits from the abyss.

My frost queen of a mama ain't got nothing on this king cold. (Sorry couldn't resist).

"You better have a good reason for calling me here, Silas," I snapped, hoping to mask how unnerved I was by the man before me with anger and irritation. It helped a little that I had had a bit of a rough day at school too and was now nursing the beginnings of another headache. "Some of us do have lives you know."

Instead of bristling like how most people would at my blatant rudeness, Silas seemed more amused if anything by my show of temper. "All in good time my dear Nix. Did you get the package?"

I rolled my eyes with a huff. See? I can do the teen attitude thing too. In any case, I easily turned and reached into the trunk of my Charger heaving out a long, rectangular box—a shipping crate really—about the size of a big guitar case.

Sorry, I guess I should explain the whole meet up thing going on here. You see as of recently, Silas and I had been (finally) meeting up in person. This being the second time. So far, it had been small things (-ish), deliveries of anonymous items, and I was getting extremely suspicious as to why he wanted these deliveries in person. I mean come on! He has the Kevlar-clad goon squad to do that for him! What does he need me for?

Luckily, this time I had taken a couple extra measures to possibly get an idea of what was going on…or at least get an idea from whatever was in the packages I delivered.

"Ya know, I really don't appreciate the lack of info I'm being provided around here," I rumbled, expression dark as the dense moonlit forest we were currently in, allowing two of his lackey's to take the crate. "And I also don't appreciate being your delivery girl either, Silas. I told you before that I'm not going to be paraded around as somebody else's poster girl."

I won't deny that I internally grinned like a wolf at how some of his other goons visibly flinched at my tone, noticeably shifting slightly when my eyes fell on them. It seemed my reputation precedes me.

Once again, however, Silas seemed to be the only one immune to it unfortunately.

"Still so untrusting I see," he replied smoothly.

I snorted, pounding the sole of one of my heavy leather boots into the ground like a stag preparing to charge as I shifted my stance a little. "As I stated before, I don't trust anybody." Except a select list of people that I can count on one hand, I mentally added.

"A wise policy."

I gave him a deadpanned expression. "Do you have what I want or not? Cuz otherwise I'm walking away right now."

He turned his head toward one of his men, exchanging a pair of nods before the latter tossed the albino one of those yellow package envelopes. "This is everything we've managed to get so far. He's been surprisingly difficult to track," he said, offering it in my direction as we met in the middle of the clearing.

Reaching for it, I never once looked away from his gaze, knowing that even though we were humans, looking away would be a sign of weakness.

He makes me think of a shark, I realized, jerking the thing out of his grip. Or a snake. Mostly a snake. Calling him a shark is an insult to sharks. Whatever though, it doesn't matter. He's still a vile little creep.

I huffed again through my nose, muttering, "'Difficult' he says. Ha! You don't know the half of it."

Fixing my angry grey eyes back on him, I tried to look as stern and intimidating as possible, voice just as biting as I snapped, "Now if that's all and you're done wasting my time, I've got things to do." I turned to go, but he held out a hand catching me.

"Hold on."

Slate-colored eyes were now flashing dangerously as they followed up the arm connected to said hand, finally resting on the face of its owner.

"Don't touch me." Those three words, spoken in a low, growling, almost hissing tone, would have had even your most hardened street criminals pissing their pants as they ran away. Say nothing of my expression, which promised agony of epic proportions as well as a couple missing extremities.

Meeting my gaze, his stern face betrayed nothing as he seemed to be searching for…something. whatever it was, I'm guessing he either found it or didn't because he let his hand fall and went back to ordering his men around. He acted for all the world as if he hadn't just violated my personal bubble and touched me without permission.

Is it just me or was that really weird? I'll let you be the judge.

—Later—

Sighing, I trudged up the darkened stairs towards the bathroom on the second floor of my shop, praying for the aspirin to kick in any minute now. The headache—or migraine, I always forgot the difference; Izzy would probably know though—I mentioned earlier had been bothering me for at least a week now, coming and going whenever it damn pleased and generally giving me a hard time despite the medication I took.

Flipping on the light with a wince, I took in my unkempt appearance standing before the mirror, covered in grime and stains like my clothes were from a hard day of work in the shop. Yawning hugely, I set about stripping down to nothing before hopping into the shower with a sponge and a bottle of extra strong soap.

It had been roughly a week after Optimus had agreed to come with me to visit my baby sister in one weeks' time. Of course, he still didn't know it was my sister, and I was still trying to figure out how to best drop that bomb on him as well as coming clean about my parental situation. Yeah, not easy task. Straightaway after asking him, I had been half-tempted to retract my offer with a laughing "Just kidding!" like the coward I really was. Oh well, too little too late. Now I possessed control of half a dozen ticking bombs and no idea what to do with them, much less diffuse them.

Was it just me or had I just dug my own grave right there?

My forehead met the cool, wet tile of the shower wall as I rested it there. There were a million and a half thoughts swirling around in my brain with one big headache to boot and no cure or solution.

Groaning, I stood straight once more, reaching with one hand and turning off the warm—borderline scalding—spray of water while grabbing a fresh towel from the rack with the other.

I'm too tired to deal with this shit, I thought wiping the fog off the mirror. Even my mental cursing filter seemed to be already taking a siesta too.

How the hell did I manage to get oil all the way up behind my ear? I thought in bewilderment, noticing the random dark spot behind my right ear. However, eventually, I just shrugged tiredly at my reflection before beginning to scrub, figuring I must have accidentally gotten some there when I was underneath one of the cars today and had rolled off my creeper once.

Funny, it almost looks like the glyph for Prime in cybertronian, I mentally mused as I attacked the area with the sponge. However, despite how viciously I scrubbed the stubborn dark splotch, it just wouldn't go away. In the end, I ended up tossing the sponge back in the sink after wringing it. With nothing but a towel to cover me, my aching feet carried me out of the bathroom as I silently resolved to do a better cleaning job tomorrow because I was too damn tired right now.

—Dream—

On an alien planet far, far away, a shadow-covered mech gasped softly, whipping his helm around to stare in the direction of something only he could feel. Though it was hard to make out their features in the dark, the gentle glow of the two moons overhead gave off enough light to reveal that the figure appeared to be listening closely to something.

Red optics the color of candy apple seemed to brighten as time passed, and there almost seemed to be an unseen smile playing on obscured features.

Why did he seem familiar?

A deep voice suddenly emanated from the mech, speaking only one word in a low tone. "Brother…"

Standing, the broad mech made his way over to a small spacecraft that stood nearby. His pace seemed calm though was a tad hurried, if close to skipping if the way he held his wings high was any clue.

However, it was as he was just taking off, not too far outside of the planet's atmosphere, that he suddenly gasped, crying out as if in pain. A clawed servo immediately went to his chassis, resting where both his spark and the new pain lay as he slumped a little in his seat.

"No…!"

Any happiness he had was immediately drained from the seeker's features and replaced with pain, mourning, anger, sadness and longing.

The connection had been severed, leaving a gaping hole behind. His brother was dead, and there could only be one logical explanation as to why.

"Autobots."

—The Next Day, Autobot Base—

"Ow! Take it easy, Doc. I need that arm," the mostly white mech yelped, pulling away when the medic got too close to a sensitive spot with the welder.

And guess who's back?

"Hold still and maybe you'll keep it," Ratchet retorted gruffly, going back to work on the Wrecker's shoulder.

Yep, that's right. Wheeljack.

"Look, commander," Wheeljack said, obviously addressing Optimus. You could easily tell that he wasn't very comfortable with addressing someone with higher authority or authority in general. There was probably a good story behind that too. "Apologies for the fireworks. Won't happen again. But I tracked Dreadwing across a hundred light-years of space.

"I thought you were roving the galaxy, you know, looking for Autobot refugees," Bulkhead stated, confused.

"I was, until I found one. A Wrecker."

I frowned when I noticed the look that came over the mech's face at the words; something told me that this tale did not have a happy ending.

Meanwhile, Bulkhead's optics lit up like the Fourth of July, oblivious to the other Wrecker's shift in tone.

"Who?" he asked eagerly, oblivious to Wheeljack's less than happy expression.

"Seaspray."

The green Wrecker laughed heartily. "How is old barnacle butt?"

"Not so good, Bulk. Blown to bits, actually." Maybe it was just me, but there was this dangerous expression on Wheeljack's faceplates that spoke volumes more than what he was actually saying.

Meanwhile, Bulkhead's features slackened in shock as everyone else looked downhearted to hear of another death on their side. It was an inevitable side-effect of war, but it didn't make it any easier. "What? No!"

"Dreadwing," my guardian surmised, stating what we all were thinking in a low rumble.

Once again, I noticed that war-torn look of age in his optics that make him look centuries older than he probably was. Being the leader of the Autobot's, he took every death personally it seemed because ultimately each one had joined his cause and was therefore his responsibility. No doubt, he was already internally beating himself up over the death of the Wrecker; I should know this being both his charge and once a leader myself.

Albeit failed one, I reminded myself morosely before tuning back into the conversation where Wheeljack was explaining what had happened with a slightly far off look in his optics.

"My flier, the Jackhammer, picked up Seaspray's signal a couple of light-years from Madeira. We made contact and arranged a rendezvous in the Andromeda system. But Dreadwing must have intercepted the transmission, 'cause he got to Seaspray first. Proximity bomb was supposed to take us both out. Guess I should be glad that Jackhammer can take a punch. I picked up Dreadwing's ion trail and tracked it through a dozen solar systems before catching up with him. And he led me right back to this marble." He focused back on all of us, optics dim. "Some coincidence, huh?"

"I know of this Dreadwing," Optimus admitted. "He was captain of a seeker armada, and, as such, like his twin, Skyquake, fiercely loyal to the Decepticon cause. Dreadwing has no doubt traveled to Earth to pay allegiance to his one true master."

Megatron, I thought, knowing everyone else had come to the same conclusion. Yet, in the back of my mind, I noted that Optimus hadn't used that name for some reason.

"Hope he's enjoying the visit," Wheeljack said, abruptly standing up and making a determined fist while Ratchet frowned deeply at him. "It's gonna be his last."

"Wheeljack, this planet is heavily inhabited. Any strike we make against the Decepticons must be carefully measured as a team, lest we risk endangering the human population," my guardian informed the white-mech in a stern tone, warning evident that his orders were to not be disobeyed.

The Wrecker didn't like that. "Are you suggesting we sit back and do nothing?" he demanded, glaring at all of us, especially Optimus. I really didn't like that, though I couldn't blame Wheeljack either.

I knew quite well how he felt, and as such, I could predict quite well what he would do next is confronted with Dreadwing. Figuring that I might as well get a head start though, I quietly slipped out of the room, taking a route through base that I knew would lead me to where Wheeljack's ship, the Jackhammer, was currently being kept.

The last thing I heard was Fowler storming into the room, bellowing about loose cannons and cowboy antics. I am pretty sure he even went so far as to tell Optimus to keep a tighter leash on his people too. Yeah, that was not going to go over well with the Wrecker, not at all.

Whatever. It doesn't matter in the long run, I told myself, mind beginning to stray down a very dark path, one that had not I treaded in a long time but was still quite familiar with. It may have been a long time ago for me, but I was in the same exact place Wheeljack is in now. And for all his suave ways and bad boy antics, I know better than anyone else what he'll do because I did the same exact thing he did years ago. Hell I'm still doing it years later. But unlike me, he won't be going in without help.

Picking up my pace, I didn't need a mirror to watch how my expression hardened as I steeled my resolve, eyes determined and burning with a fiery passion.

No matter what happened, Wheeljack would not be doing this alone. I was going to make sure of it; any way necessary if need be.

—Later—

Despite being a simple—okay not so simple but you get what I mean—mechanic for cars and technology that was light years' behind cybertronian tech, running a diagnostic on a ship like the Jackhammer wasn't so hard. Mind you, the computers on there did most of the work, but they also provided a detailed description of how to repair the areas that needed the most work or required immediate attention. Gotta love alien tech. Besides, once you took away all the complex parts, it was pretty similar to the basis of any engine I had seen before.

Anyways, my hunch proved to be spot on as ten minutes after I started work on patching a hole in one of the fuel lines in the ship, Wheeljack appeared. However, the sour expression on his faceplates told me that the conversation back at base had taken a turn for the worse.

He didn't notice me though. He just started attacking the maintenance duties of his ship, muttering a couple low choice words.

I debated whether I should give him a couple minutes to himself or talk to him, but Bulkhead appeared soon after with the apparent intention to have a heart to heart—excuse me, spark to spark with his buddy.

I admit that I did listen in just a little. Okay, I totally did, but it was kind of hard not to when they were less than fifty feet away and not even attempting to keep their voices down.

"Jackie, look. Even if it weren't for the humans, we couldn't take on the Cons right now. We're outnumbered," Bulkhead tried to reason.

Whirling away from his half-sparked attempt to fix some wiring on the ship, Wheeljack rounded on his friend, reciting a bunch of names like a memorabilia mantra that had Bulkhead cringing. "Roadbuster, Pyro, Impactor, Rotorstorm, Seaspray; all dust."

"That's what I'm talking about," the green mech persisted. He obviously didn't want to add another name to the list Wheeljack had recited. "Wreckers are Autobots. There just aren't that many of us left. But if we get behind Optimus, we have a chance to end this once and for all."

Wheeljack growled, looking even angrier almost. "Guys like Optimus they talk a good game, but when you're in the scrap, they don't want to get their hands dirty."

Desperately, I wanted to speak up, to defend the honor of Optimus because Wheeljack was dead wrong. He didn't know Optimus like I did. However, a thought echoed through my mind as I observed the volatile mech's behavior: What's causing this?

In any event though, I needn't have worried about defending Optimus because Bulkhead—bless his spark—was already doing it for me.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You don't know Optimus like I do. Being a Wrecker meant everything to me, but I left that behind."

Apparently, this was a familiar argument though.

"Because Prime was the real thing blah, blah, blah." The white and scarlet-green decaled mech scoffed, as if to say, "I'll believe it when I see it."

-{Wheeljack, I know you're out there, listening. I have a proposition for you.}- a voice suddenly came from the ship's radio. It was smooth yet stern, not unlike some of the more okay businessmen I had met before.

"Is that—?" Bulkhead began to ask, probably guessing who it was on the other side of the call.

"Dreadwing." The loathing was all too palpable in the mostly white mech's voice.

-{Meet me at these coordinates…if you have the spark.}-

I heard Wheeljack shifting a little before he replied in a sneering tone, "I'll see you there, Con, just to watch you fry."

Is it just me or was that moment a little familiar, as in its happened before?

"Jackie, it's a trap," Bulkhead immediately said, stating the obvious.

"I know, but when has that ever stopped me?" Wheeljack asked rhetorically. "You coming with?"

"At least let me call for backup," Bulkhead tried a little unsurely.

"You know Wreckers don't call for backup."

The two both sprouted huge grins as they chorused together, "They call for clean-up!" Total bromance moment, I tell you.

In any case, I figured that now was as good of a time as any to reveal myself. "Oi! Not without me you aren't!" I hollered, stepping out from where I had been lurking in the shadows.

Predictably, Bulkhead was the only one surprised by my appearance, unlike Wheeljack, who just smirked in his usual roguish way and said, "Finally decided to come out of hiding Half-Pint?"

"Oh so now I'm Half-Pint? Not Tiny anymore?" I prodded with an arched brow.

He smirked. "Possibly."

I rolled my eyes at him but didn't object. Just so long as he didn't call me pipsqueak, I wouldn't be obligated to chop off his mechly bits. "Anyways, that aside, don't we have a date with Dreadwing to be getting to?"

"We?" he parroted, raising an optic ridge. "Sorry fem, but you heard the Prime about endangering human life."

Oh so now he listens to authority.

"Who said you're endangering my life if I'm coming willingly."

He smirked, amused by my insistence. "Nice try fem."

He went to turn away, but I still had one last trick up my sleeve.

"If you don't take me, I'll just tell OP and Hatchet where you went. I've already seen the coordinates. Then you'll have to deal with him giving you another lecture about safety and protocols." Pausing for a moment as another idea struck, I decided to add one last proverbial maraschino cherry on top of it all. "I'll even lie and say that you tried to take me along." There was a feral look on my face and a positively vindictive gleam in my eyes. I just hoped he wouldn't call my bluff.

Wheeljack whirled around, his optics narrowing on me. "You wouldn't."

"Try me," was my retort, solid poker face in place. "I'll do it, tears and all." Even my expression was practically daring him to say otherwise, to tell me I was wrong.

Please believe me. Please let this work. Please, I really don't want to do something drastic…

For a moment, all fell silent as we proceeded stare each other down, trying to get the other to back down.

Wheeljack finally blinked, venting slightly as he said, "Fine. You win Half-Pint. Get on. Just remember that this ain't a field trip."

I probably would have done something Miko-like and cheered at that point, but I contained my emotions and simply nodded with only a hint of a smirk on my features.

"But…" Bulkhead began, appearing almost pained as he tried to think of a way to get me to stay behind.

"Don't strain yourself too much Bulkhead," I told him, patting his ankle lightly as I passed by, following Wheeljack's lead and boarding the ship. "Just go with it. If OP finds out, I'll tell him that I forced you both into taking me or something and that you both valiantly tried to get me to stay behind."

"I think you mean when he finds out…" he muttered but followed after us anyways.

—Later—

Where did we go wrong? Seriously, our plan had been so straightforward and simple. We were going to have Wheeljack confront Dreadwing before herding him into a dead end canyon where Bulkhead and I would help—though mostly Bulkhead—surround him and keep him from escaping. Wheeljack had even given me a midget-sized—for cybertronian's anyways, though I think the technical term is minicon-sized but whatever—cybertronian blaster since my batons were still in the shop (as in being repaired I mean).

I guess though, that we all forgot that no plan ever survives a battle, even simple, straightforward ones like Wheeljack's. Unless you can predict the future, of course.

Everything worked out fine…until the end, where I found myself a part of a more modern demonstration of Edgar Allan Poe's "Premature Burial".

Now I was trapped in a pile of rocks, unable to move with my legs pinned as they were, and already on the way to having a panic attack thanks to my claustrophobia. Okay, correction: I am currently having a panic attack; it's just getting worse by the second. Honestly, if I thought that the mine incident had been bad, being trapped in a pile of rocks with even less space and unable to move my legs because they were pinned under more rubble—was a million times worse. Breathing was hard too as the air being more dust than oxygen, and it was even more cramped. Did I mention that I couldn't move? Oh yeah, and I had no weapons or anything at all really to help get me out except blind faith that someone would come along to find me. And did I mention THAT I CAN'T FREAKING MOVE?!

Fearful insanity had set in long ago, and my once sharp mind was reduced to a terror-riddled, scrambling mess. Sweat poured down my grimy brow, and I just barely registered the slight tremors that wracked my body as I panted.

I wanted out.

I needed out.

Everything was too close, too cramped.

I couldn't breathe.

There wasn't enough oxygen.

Need.

Out.

Too close!

Too close!

Blood roared in my ears, and tears streaked my dust covered features. The already cramped space shrunk, getting smaller and smaller, and I was starting to feel dizzy and light-headed. I was going to freaking die.

Get me out!

I need out!

I yearned to scream, to shout for help. But the words refused to come out, and my entire mouth felt dry. Black spots danced in my vision, and it felt like something was constricting my chest, preventing me from inhaling deeply.

Out! Out! Out!

It was too dark, too cramped. Why couldn't I breathe?

Help! Help! Help!

Shaking and sobbing, choking and hyperventilating, my lips formed the word 'help' repeatedly but nary a sound came out. Death would be kinder than this torture. Which way was up again? Down? I couldn't tell anymore.

I couldn't hear. I could barely see. Was I even breathing?

Help me! Someone get me out of here!

It could have been a couple minutes to an hour or even an entire day; I could not tell what time it was in my state. Seconds? A day? An hour or minute? Sometimes I swore I even heard things, people calling my name, but my fear was too overpowering to think clearly.

It wasn't until daylight blinded me and a large, warm metal hand scooped me up and pulled me out after removing the earthen slab pinning me, that I realized that I wasn't hearing things.

His lip-plates moved, but with the frantic pulsating of a racing heartbeat in my ears, no sound reached me.

He optics, blue as can be, looked wide and panicked. Not that wasn't right. He was never unnerved by anything.

Among the frenzy of other words, he kept mouthing something over and over. A word? A name?

Ah…ree…uh… Aria! My name! He was saying my name!

"…ria? A…ia! Loo…at…-e…-ttle one! …-ease! Swee…-spark, plea-… look at me! Aria!" his baritone voice called, fading in and out of focus, seeming almost unreal. He sounded…worried?

I was still shaking, barely able to respond as I curled in on myself.

However, when he went to hold me closer to his frame like he did a couple times before in the past when I got over-emotional, I flipped out, screaming and crying, struggling, and trying with all my might to get away from anything that seemed remotely enclosed.

"Aria, calm down. You are safe," Optimus tried to soothe to no avail. I just continued to hyperventilate, breathing erratic and rapid, causing the dark spots to get larger by the second. Had I been more lucid in my fear induced insanity, I would have probably remembered that if I didn't stop soon I could very well pass out, especially considering my current physical condition.

"Aria!"

—Optimus Prime's POV—

Throughout the course of his life, Optimus could safely say that he had gained a lot of experience. During the war on Cybertron, he had seen a lot of things. So, it was rare for him to be confronted by a situation where he was at a loss for what to do.

His current predicament was a prime example.

Optimus didn't know what to do. When he had pulled Aria from the pile of earthen rubble, covered in dirt and grime, the last thing he expected to find was a quaking, sobbing, shivering mess that was his human charge. She looked utterly terrified! Aria was never frightened. And frankly, that scared him.

"Aria?" he called, but she didn't react. In fact, she didn't seem to hear him at all, and he noticed her ventilation patterns were frighteningly quick and irregular. "Aria! Look at me little one! Please! Sweetspark, please look at me! Aria!"

But she just curled in on herself, tremors wracking her tiny body.

His spark went out to the femme held in his servo. Unsure of what else to do, he brought her form closer to his chassis, hoping that the sound of his thrumming spark might calm her down. However, it didn't quite work out that way because as soon as his digits started to curl around her more, she started panicking anew, struggling to get away.

Why was she so scared?

"Aria, calm down. You are safe," he attempted to reason with her, hoping his reassurance would calm her down. But if anything, her condition only seemed to get worse.

At his wits end, he called her name one last time, louder than the previous attempts. "Aria!"

Finally, she stopped, jolting at the sheer volume of his voice, but nonetheless stilling though her breathing pattern was still slightly erratic and tears continued to fall.

"Sshhhh…Little one, it is alright. You are safe. Please calm down."

"I'm sorry Optimus," she finally hiccupped, knees still drawn to her chest. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have been here. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry." Over and over apologies spewed from those pink lips without pause like the tears that fell down her dusty features as she cried.

Carefully, he ran his thumb-digit over her spine in a soothing pattern while using his other hand to gently brush away the tears. Aside from being unreasonably scared, Aria seemed to be more or less in one piece, which he was extremely thankful for.

"Hush, Sweetspark. All is forgiven," he reassured. In a familiar action, he brushed some of her hair behind her audial as it had fallen out of its confinement. "Just relax. Breathe."

Optimus probably should have been looking for Wheeljack and Bulkhead by now, but the safety and wellbeing of his charge came first and foremost at the moment.

"…," she muttered something lowly, but he did not quite catch it.

"Hm?"

"Claustrophobic. I'm claustrophobic," she admitted, voice a near-whisper. "I…I can't stand dark, cramped places. I can barely stand getting in cars sometimes. When I was a kid, I-…I'm sorry."

Of course, now it all made sense. The aftermath of the mine incident, all those times he had seen her hesitate momentarily before getting into the Autobot's alt-modes, her recent panic attack; it all made sense! It seemed almost foolish that he hadn't picked up on it before.

Reaching out, he gently used a digit to tilt Aria's chin upwards, forcing her to look at him while he brushed his thumb-digit against her cheek. Some of the stuff she used to cover up her facial scars had been wiped away, making them a little more noticeable coupled with the near-traumatized look in her silver-grey eyes. Really, it struck him just how scared she looked which was abnormal for her, and he hated it, loathing himself for being unable to protect her. As her guardian and…friend, he swore to protect her and failing like this made his spark cringe. Especially since he remembered…

"There is no need to apologize little one. We all have our fears. There's nothing wrong with that."

Finally, she gave a dry chuckle, and he was pleased to see how the fear had dissipated. "Thanks Sangroyal. I don' know wha I do withou' a friend like ya."

His spark sank a little at the word 'friend' but nodded anyways, smiling all the same, despite the emotional ache it caused. It wasn't like she would ever see him as anything else.

Aria cleared her throat, wiping her face before saying, "Well, enough mushy stuff. We better find Wheeljack and Bulkhead before they think we forgot them." She plastered a meek smile on her face, though a slight red rawness still remained around her eyes.

Optimus felt he should perhaps say something more, but he didn't know what. Maybe it was just that memory weighing on his processor which he hadn't remembered until recently. He still was unsure of how to address that.

In any case, he nodded, settling her onto his shoulder plates before beginning to dig through the rubble again.

—Aria's POV—

Oh my Primus! I can't believe I actually just told him that! I can't believe that I almost told him everything! I thought as I nestled into my guardian's neck cables, watching him search the rubble for signs of Wheeljack and Bulkhead. Of all the things I could have told him, it had to have been my phobia, and I almost spilled my biggest secret along with it.

Okay maybe I'm overreacting; I did almost get turned into a puddle of blood after all. But the entire truth had been virtually on the tip of my tongue only seconds ago. The truth of my entire life, my family, friends, mentors, everything—had been so close to coming to light, and that scared me almost as much as cramped spaces. Yes, I was going to need to come clean eventually to him considering he was going to meet my sister in over a week, but this was too much too soon.

"What took you so long, Bulk? Don't tell me your riding with Prime has made you…soft," Wheeljack grumbled, breaking me out of my thoughts, before trailing off at the end when he realized who was actually helping.

Optimus' faceplates darkened, voice a low rumble as he spoke that sent odd chills down my spine. "If you will not take orders from me, that is one thing. But when you place one of my Autobots and my human charge in danger—"

"With all due respect, sir," Wheeljack cut in, appearing almost physically pained saying that last word. "Bulkhead and the Half-Pint were aware of the risks. Every Wrecker does. Now, I'm sure Bulkhead's just somewhere in this rubble…" he trailed off, turning around and already starting to rifle through the pile.

-{Optimus, Bulkhead's signal has moved from your current position.}- I could hear Ratchet saying over the comm. link from my perch on Optimus' shoulder.

"You coming with?" Wheeljack called, glancing back at us and already making his way towards where the Jackhammer was. Well that was quick.

"Come on Sangroyal. We better hurry before we get left behind by him. Something tells me that he's going to need someone to watching his six," I urged my guardian, well aware of how true that statement was.

However, he didn't move. "Aria, I believe it is best if you return to base," he said carefully, as if he knew he was treading on thin ice.

I blinked in confusion, brows furrowed and an ominous feeling crawling in my heart and stomach. "Excuse me?"

Maybe it was just me, but our relationship as of late had been 'on the rocks' I guess you could put it for lack of a more apt phrase. Awkward even. It was like…he was trying to keep his distance from me for some reason. Yet at the same time, he tried to be protective, shielding me as if I were made of delicate crystal. Does that make sense? It made hanging around him odd, weird even, whenever he did it, like trying to get comfortable in a seat that was nothing but cloth covered steel. But maybe I was just imagining all of this, seeing ghosts where there were none. I'm not sure.

"You have already had a close encounter today," the Prime retorted, optics seeming to have trouble meeting mine. "And you may not be so lucky next time. Please return to base. I do not wish to see you harmed."

I sighed in aggravation. We didn't have time for this. "Optimus, all due respect but no. I've got a stake in this just like everyone else, and I'll be damned if I sit it out. I'm going whether you like it or not, so don't you dare try to stop me because you know I will find a way and will likely end up in more danger than if you let me come."

Those royal blue eyes studied me carefully perhaps searching for some ounce of hesitation or evidence that I was bluffing, so he could capitalize on it convince me otherwise. I wasn't though, and I made it clear with everything I had that I meant what I said.

Eventually, he vented. "Very well." He didn't sound happy about it though.

—Later—

The ride over turned out to be both amusingly awkward and educational. Awkward and amusing because I witnessed Optimus having to sit hunched over slightly in a ship that was not made for a cybertronian his size, making it comical, and educational since I finally got an idea as to why Wheeljack was suck a loner. Actually, the truth proved to be kind of a no-brainer as I essentially had done the same thing, but I hadn't picked up on it until he had said, and I quote "…alone's usually a lot less complicated." The only people who ever said that were those who found it easier to try to run away from the pain of getting to close to others, unwilling to take a risk and form bonds with others. Selfish as it may seem, Wheeljack was just trying to protect himself.

Anyways, back on topic.

"We are close to population. Remember—," Optimus began as we got out.

"Blasters and fuel pumps don't mix," Wheeljack finished, an impatient light in his optics. "Our boy is just up ahead."

Optimus nodded before turning to me. "Aria—"

"Stay close behind you and be alert," I finished for him, in much the same manner Wheeljack had. "I know."

With little else but the sound of our footsteps to keep us company, I'll admit that the shipping container yard was pretty eerie. Maybe not the haunted house in the dead of night kind of eerie, but the slight fog and looming threat of a Decepticon at large was enough to put me on edge.

Eventually though, we found Bulkhead, in what could be considered a rather compromising position with his hands manacled to a couple containers with some kind of energy cuffs. That is, if he hadn't had a ticking bomb strapped to his chassis like some kind of morbid ribbon or bow.

"Hey, guys," the green Wrecker greeted nervously, breaking the tense silence.

Wheeljack was the first to recover. "Scrap. You really got yourself in a heap of scrap this time, partner," he said dryly, walking over to take a closer look at the explosive.

"Stay back, Jackie," Bulkhead warned though his fellow Wrecker ignored him, muttering to himself as he inspected the device.

"Have you defused one of these before?" Optimus probed.

"Fail-safes, dummy leads, booby traps. It's a work of art."

"That isn't an answer," I pointed out, only to be ignored. Geez, had I become another Miko now? Whatever.

Grey eyes like hardened steel, something about the silence of the area and the whole situation made me uneasy. Yes, it was obviously a trap set by Dreadwing since he wouldn't just truss-up Bulkhead like a Christmas present and leave him here with a ticking explosive. No, bombers usually go for the maximum amount of casualties that they can guarantee. Something was up. Personally, if I was Dreadwing, this would be the perfect place to snipe us, so he could at least injure everyone to make it difficult to escape in time.

But that still banked the question: where? There were multiple perfect places around the area that could serve as good sniping alcoves. He could have been hiding anywhere.

Noticing how equally tense Optimus was, I got his attention, silently gesturing towards the heart of the heart of the shipping container maze where Dreadwing was likely hiding.

He nodded, scooping me up (much to my exasperation) and walking away from the two Wreckers so they might have a chance of diffusing the bomb while we took care of the other immediate threat.

"You know they might not be able to diffuse the bomb in time," I said lowly, taking in my guardian's grim expression. "Dreadwing is likely the only one who knows how to diffuse it."

"Yes, but the fact still remains that we are going to have to catch him first," he agreed.

"Then lucky for us, I've got an idea," I said, smirking mischievously when he finally looked in my direction. I'll admit that something inside me went all warm and fuzzy upon noticing the way his optics softened slightly when he gazed at me.

Quickly, I outlined what I had in mind, and while he didn't seem pleased that I would be involved, he did reluctantly agree in the end since I was technically going to be out of the way.

"Just don't play the hero okay?" I called after him as we parted ways, half-joking, half-serious.

"I will try. Please stay safe Aria."

"I promise nothing except that I'll try."

—Aria's POV—

If she were afraid of heights, Aria was sure she would have freaked out by now about her current height as she climbed higher and higher on the metal latter, rising well above four stories. Her muscles already started to ache, palms sweaty despite the chilly temperature and slight breeze. For her at least, it felt kind of disappointing that she was already tiring out, making a mental note to work on that later, even if she would never be physically able to reach average peak condition thanks to her arm.

-{Dreadwing, if you are anything like Skyquake, I know that you value loyalty and honor.}- Aria heard Optimus try to appeal to the Decepticon seeker, voice emanating from the little Bluetooth in her ear, which she had managed to hook up to OP's comm. link on her phone.

-{Is there a point to your bluster, Prime?}- Dreadwing retorted as the blonde-haired girl finally managed to reach the cab of the crane, smashing the window with a leather protected elbow and carefully extending her arm past the broken glass to unlock the door from the inside. It was a bit difficult but he managed, making a straight b-line for the control panel and removing the protective covering, so she could hotwire the crane and access magnetic lift.

-{Only that Megatron knows nothing of those principles. He lives solely for destruction and conquest, but there is another path: deactivate the bomb.}-

Not the greatest recruiting speech, Sangroyal, she thought with a sardonic tone, trying to get the semi-stripped wires in her hands—the ignition/electrical system and the starter motor wires—to cooperate. She knew well enough that insulting a loyal member's leader was not the greatest way to get anyone on your side, or mentioning their dead family member for that matter, especially when you had a role in their demise. However, on the other hand, it certainly made for a good stalling speech, getting the enemy to lash out and focus their anger on you.

Come on! Come on! Come on! she urged, heart racing in her ears like a ticking timer. "Got it!"

And it was just in time too as she heard Optimus call over the link, -{Now, Aria!}-

The girl didn't waste any time, releasing the holding break on the hoist and letting the giant magnet (and Optimus perched on it) fall right on Dreadwing, pinning the mech soundly.

-{Dreadwing, defuse the bomb or fall victim to your own device.}- Optimus ordered.

Aria frowned little, seeing where this was going. Dammit Optimus. I said don't play the hero!

-{I will gladly sacrifice myself to avenge my brother.}- the con merely retorted, voice surprisingly deep yet familiar, almost reminding her of a modern-day knight perhaps.

But the Prime seemed prepared for this response, as he replied sternly, -{Then we will, in turn, gladly join the Allspark with our brother.}-

-{And with you.}- Wheeljack put in. -{You'll never shake us.}-

Even from the safety of the crane cab she was in, Aria could feel the tension in the air, so thick you might just have needed a diamond-coated chainsaw to break it, seconds passing by with an excruciating amount of swift-slowness.

-{Very well.}- the Decepticon finally relented.

Smiling triumphantly to herself, Aria mentally did a little dance for their victory against Dreadwing, rolling her eyes at the oh-so encouraging words of Wheeljack about having narrowed it down his options of which wire to cut all along. Sure, DW (Dreadwing) set off his multitude of other incendiaries immediately afterwards to make a quick getaway, and Fowler was no doubt going to go ballistic and have an entire zoo when he saw the devastation that was caused to the area by Dreadwing's bombs, but she was content to enjoy the moment for now.

Abruptly, Aria's smile faded as her chest began to hurt in a painful way. It felt like she wasn't getting nearly enough oxygen as she should into her lungs as her heart began to pound forcefully enough to visibly shake her entire body. Her entire sternum felt as though it was constricting, and she couldn't do anything except try to use breathing exercises to calm her racing heart. Thankfully though, the forceful pumping of her heart stopped after a couple minutes, and she could breathe normally once again.

But it left her wondering. What the hell was that?

—Later, Base, Optimus Prime's POV—

She was sitting at the edge of the mesa again, staring out at the sunset.

But this time Optimus noticed that there was something different about her; in that moment, he just finally realized just how beautiful the mysterious human looked.

She still looked the same of course, with her long blonde hair and heavily scarred features but it was as if someone had suddenly shone a light on her, highlighting her lovely features for him to finally see.

For some time—or so it felt like to him—Optimus just stood there, staring at the unique creature that was his charge.

He remembered now, thinking that he loved her just before surrendering the power of matrix to Unicron's spark. The memory had resurfaced recently, barely a week ago, but he knew that what he felt for her had not changed, perhaps only growing stronger if anything. But Optimus still felt unsure, having several misgivings about his feelings for her.

Aria, well, she was Aria first and foremost, but she was also human and therefore not naturally programmed to be attracted to an alien being such as himself. They were just so different.

If that wasn't enough, she was young too, barely considered an adult legally by human standards and still eons younger than he was. (Though technically, he was only a couple years older than her in cybertronian terms). Even Bumblebee, the youngest of the Autobots, was ancient compared to Aria.

But despite all this, none of these details changed the fact that Optimus adored the human femme, that his spark sung, calling out to her whenever she happened to be nearby. She made him happy, bringing a new light and a calm, steady presence to the room whenever she entered.

He loved her rare smiles and even rarer laughter, loving how only he seemed privy to them and enjoying how they affected those intelligent grey eyes of hers, making them glitter and shine in spectacular ways. Aria undoubtedly was unique in many ways, and a rare a person indeed even with her snarky yet dry sense of humor and fiery temper. Ever since they met, she was always there for him, even in his darkest moments. She cared little of what others spitefully thought of her, possessing a protective and loyal streak a mile wide to those who earned it, and she valued camaraderie above all else, going so far to treat him as an equal, not just a Prime or leader.

There was just so much he could say about how he loved her, but he admittedly felt afraid to say anything to her. There was just so much that could go wrong and so much he could lose. Namely Aria herself.

Well aware that she probably knew he was there, Optimus called softly, "Aria, are you alright?"

"I've been better. But I'll live. I've made it this far," she admitted, not turning around. Once again, her hair flowed freely down her spinal struts, released from its usual confinements to dance in the slight breezes that flew by like an imitation of golden smoke.

Silence fell once more as he moved to stand by her. However, it didn't feel like their usual comfortable silences; something was brewing, brimming at the surface though neither one of them seemed willing to broach the topic. But both of them knew that someone would have to do so eventually.

"I expect you've come to lecture me on safety again," she spoke softly, resting her chin on her knees, steel-colored eyes fixed on the distant horizon.

"I have," he confirmed. "May I?" He held out his servo, making his intentions clear.

Glancing his way, she nodded, muttering the words "Might as well get this over with" with a despondent sigh much to his sorrow, and allowing him to scoop her up for the umpteenth time that day.

"I'm not going to apologize if that's what you want," the femme quickly informed him. "You know that everything I do is with good reason."

"Yes, but when it comes to your life, I would prefer it if you think about yourself more often," he said, feeling the tension rising.

Those grey optics of hers flashed, warning him of impending disaster. "This coming from the mech who dives headlong into danger without regards to his own safety?" she fired back with a slight sneer, scowling.

"Little one, I am well aware of the risks. I—"

"And I'm not?"

"I never said—"

"Then is it because I'm human? Because I'm not as strong or as durable as a cybertronian?"

"No, I—"

Maybe it was just the stress from the events of the entire day coming back to haunt them that threw them both off, but Aria then did something that surprised them both.

"Optimus Prime, you damn fucking idiot!" she cried, anger drowned by the tide of her freshly spawned tears as she threw herself at him, doing her best to strangle him in an undersized hug. Harmlessly beating her fist against his metal chassis, the blonde-haired girl buried her face into his neckcables as she continued to weakly curse him out, tears streaming down her face. "You stupidly noble, selfless idiot!"

"Aria," he called softly, unsure of what to do besides hold her and make sure that she didn't fall. He hoped she didn't notice of how his armor seemed to steadily heat up a little at the close contact, a sure sign that he was technically blushing.

"Espèce d'idiot, pourquoi me fais-tu cela?" she mumbled, refusing to let go and crying all the while. (You lovable idiot, why must you do this to me?)

Finally, she decided to pull back a little from the Prime's comfortable warmth, just to look him in the optics, though never once releasing her hold on him. "Do you have any idea how worried I was today?!"

"I—."

She slapped his collarcables. "Don't you ever do that to me again! You hear me?"

Where was this all coming from?

"I—."

Then she pounced on him, slamming her lips into his with all the vigor of an angry tiger, not at all put off by their difference in size.

The kiss wasn't nice. It wasn't sweet and slow and full of ardent passion. It was crushing and angry, burning, searing like the blood of the woman who initiated it. Nonetheless, it took his breath away—figuratively speaking—as she ferociously attacked his metals lips with her own small, soft ones.

—Aria's POV—

Wait, was I—? Was he—? Were we actually—?

Oh sweet Primus above, I was kissing Optimus! And he was kissing me back!

Gods! How did we get to this point? One moment, I had been chewing him out for whatever reason—which I surprisingly can't recall now since everything seemed kinda fuzzy—and then warm metal lips gently pressing, moving against my own and a giddy, bursting feeling in my heart were the next things I registered.

I'm not even exactly sure how I got down after that. There are a couple blank spots in my memory after I kissed him, but I'm pretty sure I somehow managed to freaking apparate from his grasp to the ground as I proceeded to run away like Cinderella at midnight.

Still, one thing was for sure:

…goodbye virginal lips.

Hahaha. They finally kissed! Huzzah! And all it took was a really rough day on both their ends—though mainly on Aria's—for it to happen. Anyone see that coming? And yes I know a human kissing a cybertronian of OP's size is like a human trying to kiss one of Tinkerbell's pixie friends, but I wanted their first kiss to be in their natural forms. In any case, anyone notice the weird things going on with Aria? I wonder what they could mean for our dear kick-aft girl.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed.

Please favorite, follow, review, and VOTE ON MY NEW POLL. I would like at least 10 individual people to vote. I do accept votes in reviews for those who do not have an account or are too lazy. And I am doing the same thing I did last time where each vote will count as two if you explain your reasoning a little. Also, if you have another name idea, please tell me and I'll add it if I like it. Please vote because the results may affect this story or a possible sequel that I'm aiming for. (HiNT hInT).

Five Review Policy is in effect still as five reviews a day keep the beast away.

Aloha!