A/N: This is going to be my standard opening for a while. The pain is still too close. I want to apologize for the long wait on some of my stories. I recently lost a good friend of mine and fellow fanfic writer and the loss was much harder than I anticipated. It really stunted whatever creative power I had and left me in a state of much sorrow. It's hard to realize just how much people influence our lives and our passions until they are no longer there. For the next while all my stories are going to be dedicated to her.

AJ. I will miss you. I will miss you and your laughing encouragement more than I can ever say. This one is for you.

Special thanks to Razorgaze as my Beta, and Hummergrey for her constant friendship during this sad time. You both render me speechless with your skills, friendship and dedication. Please check out their fics. The links are in my profile page. And thank you to everyone that has sent me private messages or positive thoughts in the reviews. Those help so much. I can't thank you enough.

I wanted to give an extra hug to Hummergrey for telling me to stop overanalyzing this chapter and post it already. I have agonized over it for nearly a month. So I deeply apologize if this one isn't as good as the others. I suppose I am still shaken up.

As promised, here is the last of the music:

Chapter 36: Dreams
Cosmic Love – Florence + the Machine
Surrender – Evanescence
Is your Love Strong Enough – Bryan Ferry
Believe - Staind

Chapter 37: Revelations Part 2
Tonight and the Rest of my Life – Nina Gordon
Cold (But I'm still here) – Evans Blue
Ignorance – Paramore
Again – Flyleaf

Chapter 38: Revelations Part 3
No More Lies – Krypteria
Not Meant to Be – Theory of a Deadman
9 Crimes (Cover) – Katherine Crowe
Time after Time (Cover) – Quietdrive
So Far Away – Staind

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC's. I am not making any money from this. Please do not sue.

This was going to haunt his conscience for years to come.

Major William Lennox stood in the gloom of the conference room on top of the massive table, staring at the images flashing across the wall screen. The throbbing ache was back in his shoulders, one of the lingering remnants of the near fatal blow that Ratbat had dealt him more than a month before. It seemed that that ache was his new constant companion, appearing when his stress levels heightened or when he had pushed the limits of physical exertion. It also served as a reminder than the 'Con's would seriously stop at nothing – would use any one and any thing – in their desire to advance their own nefarious goals.

Not that he needed a reminder of that, and especially not with the images being displayed across the gigantic wall screen.

Ironhide and Optimus flanked him on either side, silent shadows made of immovable metal. Outwardly, Will displayed the same amount of cool detachment, a soldier's façade that hid the turmoil that boiled beneath the surface. Only the slight frown line between his eyebrows and the way he unconsciously rolled his shoulders, trying to break up the thick scar tissue that covered his back, gave away his doubts. The questions chased around and around in the back of his brain. Should he have ordered extra precautions, sent the human prisoners to a different containment grid? Maybe moved them off base altogether? Or should he have taken a page from Galloway's playbook just this once and pressed Optimus to follow Ironhide's advice, deactivating Ratbat immediately and thereby removing the threat automatically?

The moment he entertained that option, he knew it was out of the question. The three of them – Ironhide, Optimus and himself – represented a unified and dedicated front for freedom. Killing their prisoners without a fair and impartial trial would have made them just as bad as those they fought against. Galloway and his ilk, in their narrow-minded fear, couldn't see that distinction. Will could. And he had learned at a young and tender age not to let fear make me cross any defined line in the proverbial sand.

So he stood there and watched the horror of the security footage as it replayed on the screen. Much to his dismay, it added more questions than gave answers.

"Stop there!" Lennox ordered, the word lancing through the thick silence, causing a few to jump in spite of themselves. Obediently, the tech froze the image on the screen, and inwardly the Major wasn't sure if ordering the playback to pause was any better than watching the event unfold in its entirety.

Jolt's deep blue armored frame arched on the brig floor, spinal structure bowing upward, his face plates frozen in an expression of what Lennox would have called mortal agony as Ratbat's talon gripped deep in his armor. Only the grey of his offlined optics provided any comfort. Banachek was on the ground in that frozen moment of hell, one arm clearly broken in several places and cradled to his chest, disbelief in his eyes. Blood on his fists and face evidence enough of the fight he had tried to defend against and ultimately lost.

Behind him, Kup's lighter blue form faced away from the angle of the security camera, the smoking hole in his front armor hidden from view. 'A small relief his spark was missed. Though, relief is a matter of perspective,' he noted, watching as Ironhide advanced towards the gigantic wall screen. One figure caused the burning hate in his blue optics. For over all three fallen sentients loomed the blood-streaked face of their own traitor, his human lips pulled back in a snarl of madness and delight.

"Betrayed," Ironhide growled, the word barely audible.

Just that one word, vocalized in that one tone, had humans and mechs backing away from the weapon specialist. Lennox couldn't blame them. He trusted Ironhide with his life and that of his men, even guarding his only child, and yet he still feared what the black mech was capable of doing if he ever truly let loose. Judging from the look on the faces of the mechs that had moved, they knew all too well.

"He'll pay. When we catch him," Epps put in, the only one moving towards the silently raging mech instead of away. He set his feet in a wide stance, arms crossed against his chest. Somehow, in that moment the Tech Sergeant seemed as tall as his counterpart, the determination emanating off them both superseded the mere physical stature of either.

"We'll get them both," Ironhide corrected, the words more snarled than spoken. "Traitor and Decepticon alike."

Will cast a quick glance to his left, watching the one person he was most concerned about in that room.

The woman formerly known as Lydia DeMarco, ex-Budget Liaison to the NEST Project, stood ramrod straight in the muted lights of the conference room. He knew she saw the same things they all saw, and yet unlike the rest of those present, not a flicker of emotion crossed her once expressive face. He would have liked to say that she bore a mask of stolid indifference like the rest of them.

He knew better.

He had her own words confirming that she had been intimate with Captain Joshua Eddard on the replayed call with Arcee all those months ago. She had served with Eddard for nearly a decade, relying on and trusting him with her very life. If that had been his former commanding officer on that screen, turning traitor to the one cause that was above all their lives combined, he would have evidenced a lot more of what he was feeling than a blank mask.

What unnerved him the most was his certainty it wasn't a mask she wore. He had the feeling that the woman didn't feel anything one way or the other.

~*~

Phoenix stared at the screen, trying to understand the man that was single-handedly betraying everything she held dear. He could have been a complete stranger for her current lack of personal attachment. Every time even an iota of recognition started, it was quickly countered by the spark that shared her body. Much like in the hallway only a day ago when her spark had lashed out at Joshua, she felt absolutely nothing for the man.

It wasn't that she or her spark felt nothing for the situation, however. On the contrary, the little ball of alien energy felt too much, heating the inside of her chest to almost painful levels. It was impossible not to feel anything but rage staring at the horrific image of her fallen companions. But when it came to the source of that rage, himself, her spark outright rejected the right to feel anything but hate.

Nights of laughter on the deck of aircraft carriers, flying into the thick of combat zones, and days of arguing over mission objectives… even their secluded moments when their love for each other was just blossoming… Any emotions they may have caused her were washed away by the image of the man that stood on that screen, gloating over the fallen Autobots.

The notion was frightening in and of itself. She should have felt shock at the very least. Watching a former friend betray everything should have initiated at least a bit of a shocky reaction.

But shock would have come with the usual symptoms, she rationalized. Her heart would have been racing, her ears filled only with the pounding of blood through her veins. Her vision would have wavered, blurred and lost any semblance of focus instead of the near super-human crispness she now experienced. And just when her nervous system swore it could not take anymore, utter numbness would have followed in its wake.

But her artificial heart no longer beat, and her spark objected vehemently to the idea of pulsing so much as a joule-second of energy out of sync with her mate's. Now that the two of them—her human frame and her Cybertronian spark—had stared at each other across the dreamscape of the matrix, they could no longer claim ignorance of each other's thoughts or sharing the same body. It was a revelation that she was afraid of, and with good reason.

Because in moments like this, moments when her physical form reacted with this "shock" thing, the spark could no longer sit by idly. Overrides were issued, the mechanical heart told to accept commands from the spark only, not her illogical organic brain. The device held a steady rhythm, the lungs and all associated systems necessary for life function following suit. Vision sharpened to the point of painful acuity instead of dulling, the brain ordered to record every bit of sensory data instead of turning it off.

And for the love of the All-spark, this notion of turning one's self off simply because one did not want to face reality was idiotic at worst and suicidal at best. How would one defend herself if one fell over or went numb? The logical course of action was to process all information, spin out possible ways to fix the situation, and then implement them. If none of the above was available, then removing the item causing the confusion was the next best step.

Going into shock? No. It was out of the question. Just as it was out of the question to feel anything but loathing for Josh.

"He chose to become this," she whispered aloud, echoing not only her thoughts but the feelings racing within her from her spark. It was logic she could not deny, and still it frightened her.

Frightened her from the venom her spark spat within her mind each and every time she called up what she considered a good memory of Josh. The spark wanted none of it, burning hotter and hotter each time she attempted to override the feelings. Sweat broke out across her forehead, her left hand rising to cover the X shaped scar and the spark resting beneath it. Her vision dimmed slightly, tinged with red as her spark objected once again to being covered.

To being denied its right to scream for spilled energon and blood alike to avenge her fallen companions.

Phoenix spun away from the screen, her free hand clamping over her optic, terrified that it now glowed an angry red instead of a calm jade green. Her jumbled thoughts raced down the bond with her mate at lightning speeds, seeking his location… And smacked head-first into a flimsy and opaque barrier. It took less than a second for her to realize that he wasn't blocking her on purpose, per se. He had taken up the mantle of CMO and had focused all his attention and then some on saving sparks.

She could almost feel his hands transforming from tool to tool at speeds faster than any human eye could detect. Red Alert and Wheeljack were a comforting presence in the back of his processors, calling out repairs one step ahead of the formidable medic. One step ahead of system after system that crashed as soon as it came back online in their friend. Jolt's frame bucked here and there against the restraints, twisted as he came back to life and drifted into stasis just as quickly.

Whatever it was that Ratbat had injected into the mech was still wreaking havoc on his systems. All her beloved's concentration was focused on saving Jolt.

Kup, she noted in a brief touch of his memories, lay in recharge on a nearby medical berth. Jolt had taken the worst of the attack, parts ripped from his core systems without thought or care to his survival. Kup was collateral damage, shot with Jolt's own weapons in Ratbat's hands. Nannites initiated under self-repair almost instantly after the shot was fired, saving the mech's spark.

In the face of such horror, her spark dialed back the anger. The last thing she wanted was to disrupt her mate at this critical time, especially with something as petty as an internal squabble. Phoenix closed her eyes, focusing inward until she found the image of her Cybertronian self. We're going to have words later, you and I, she told it. This dominance shit has to end and quickly. But not now. Not until we know our friends are okay, got it?

The image made a gesture that she instinctively knew was a bow of sorts. The image of a glyph flashed before her optic for the briefest of moments, the words that weren't words echoing in her ears. Challenge accepted…

And then there was silence within her. Blessed, beloved silence. It used to bother her that when she closed her eyes and shut out the world, she no longer could hear her own heartbeat. But in that moment, the silence was beyond amazing. She ghosted the barest touch of love across the opaque barrier, hiding her own concern over the sudden vocalization of her spark, and leaving him to his work.

The same touch whispered across her spark not a second later, spilling reassurance and love… and surprisingly enough, thanks that she would give him comfort in this intense moment when he fought to save a life. It was as if her love tempered the sorrow in him, renewed the hope in his spark. He stood a bit stronger, hands moving faster still, energized and determined not to loose another friend. Strength flowed from that thanks, love so amazingly strong that it threatened to bring her to her knees from just the barest touch of it.

I love you, Grumpy. You have no idea how much…

Phoenix took a deep breath and lowered her hands, only to find herself optic to optic with Optimus Prime.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It always came back to moments like this, Prowl reflected.

He stepped carefully onto the secluded bit of beach that the humans femmes preferred for their "sun bathing." During normal sunlight cycles, any number of the femmes could be found laying out on brightly colored towels and wearing tiny bits of covering called bikinis and 'swim suits,' covered in synthetic oils to protect their fragile skins from the worst of the ultraviolet rays of the sun and congregated around insulated boxes they referred to as coolers. Arcee and Chormia were also known to visit this stretch of sand on occasion, choosing to recharge with solar energy from time to time. The Cybertronian femmes had even taken to calling the time 'girl time' in the tradition of their human hosts.

Prowl had no idea what 'girl time' was, however his logic processors did note that no male of either species appeared particularly inclined to visit this stretch of the lagoon during said 'girl time.' It was an enigma that he pondered in his less frantic moments.

Tonight was not one of those moments. Tonight, to quote his counterpart Tech Sergeant Epps, had bad feelings written all over it.

As if to agree with his mental meanderings, the clouds chose that moment to cross the moon and bathe the world in blackness. Night vision kicked on automatically, his programming initiating deep and longer ranged scans to compensate. The images relayed to his processors let him know that all was in its proper biological place and functionality, from the slowly approaching form of Maggie in the near distance to the sharks deep in their mating cycles not two miles off the coast. He filed a report on that, flagging the information as critical for the next day's proposed open-ocean training exercises, and turned his attention to his approaching friend.

All the while trying not to let his annoyance grow, trying not to let the influx of organic information sink his spark deeper into depression. It had never occurred to him before to yearn still for a world that was no longer his. Vorns upon vorns had passed until he hardly thought of Cybertron at all. But there it was, displayed all around him in the crashing waves of water, the open expanse of sky, in the minuscule crushed organic exoskeletons that made up the "beach" beneath his footpads.

No matter where he turned, he could not escape the knowledge that this place was not home, and probably never would be for him.

"So you going to tell me what the hell's got you all torqued?" Maggie asked softly, her tone belying the harsh words.

Prowl jerked slightly, startled by the tiny hand she placed on his lower leg plating, by the fact that he had not tracked her approach. She had literally snuck up on him while his mind and spark had wandered to Cybertron in a fit of self-pity. His wing-door stiffened, his processors grabbing those self-depreciating thoughts and banishing them to the farthest parts of his memory cores. Embarrassment had his cooling fans kicking in, and that only furthered the discontent mewling around inside his spark. What if such a… lack of attention had happened during a critical moment of battle? Nothing good, that was for certain. Just to be safe, he initiated internal scans, searching for whatever it was that caused his lapse in attention. Self-scans replied that all was well, and still he did not believe it.

"I am fine," He replied, vocals clipped and precise, as he dually filed a request for medical review with Ratchet. "A momentary lapse in logic, pay it no mind."

Maggie snorted, not even bothering to be ladylike about it. "I call bullshit."

"My scans do not detect any animal of the bovine species, nevertheless fecal matter of such in our vicinity."

That earned him a bit of a laugh and a sardonic smile. "Nice try, but you are not going to logic your way out of this one, my friend. Seriously, I'm worried to death about you. You aren't acting like yourself and I want to know why."

His wing doors rose a bit higher, his shoulders straightening with the insult. "If you are concerned with my performance, perhaps you should be speaking with—"

The smile faded, and so did most of the warmth in her voice. "Don't give me that, Prowl. You know very well what I'm talking about and it has nothing to do with your performance as Autobot Second-in-Command. It's these sudden flashes of temper, the distracted reactions, and bouts of violence. Something is eating at you and it's eating at you good. You need to talk about it before you explode."

It was his turn to smile sardonically. "I am not human, Maggie. My central processing core will not overheat or 'explode' if I do not express myself."

"Tell that to what is left of Ironhide's obstacle course," she countered, crossing her arms over her chest. "And don't worry about the damage, by the way. I called in a few favors. He won't know anything untoward happened during your practice session unless you say something."

His shoulders slumped a bit, and the heat of shame replaced the embarrassment and wounded pride. Maggie almost sighed with relief at the sight. Finally, somehow, she was getting through to him. Somehow, she had managed to chip her way through the icy logical armor the male wrapped himself in and touched on his true emotions. At least, she hoped she had. Sitting on the soft, sun-kissed sand, she patted the space next to her, smiling again as he accepted the invitation and folded himself into a sitting position. Silence enveloped them a long moment as they both stared out at the night-darkened water.

"What are you processing in this exact moment?" she asked softly.

"Several things," he replied just as softly.

"Such as?"

"Processing corrective routes for the naval exercises in regards tomorrow's training in order to avoid shark spawning areas. Uploading the latest reports from the night's guard shift. Running probabilities on the next possible strike points for a Decepticon attack. And noting the similarity to the color of the waters at the moment to the way your eyes darken when you are angry."

That last bit caught her off guard, and she flicked a glance up at him. "Seriously?"

He nodded, optics still scanning off in the distance. "Your organic eyes change color dependant on your mood. I find that disturbing and envious in equal parts."

"Why disturbing?"

"It is alien to my kind. Our optics do not change color dependant on emotions."

She tipped her head to the side. "But yours grew reddish in color when you were on the obstacle course."

"That is not a color change for the reasons you process. It is a warning, an indication that systems have activated and safety protocols ignored based on illogical data and improbable scenarios plotted with assumed reaction to impending movements."

Maggie's face scrunched up in a bit of a frown. "So what you're telling me," she began slowly. "Is that when your optics go red, it's like a red warning light that systems are overloaded or overridden."

Prowl nodded again. "Our optics change only to that red color, as you put it. They do not change in degrees by other emotions like yours do. Yours lighten when you laugh, or brighten when you have found something of interest. Ours do not change. Color pigmentation is not necessary to display our intentions. Hence, to see it, is slightly disturbing."

She couldn't help the bit of pride and appreciation that swept through her at his words, knowing that he meant them in a purely scientific way and yet accepting the compliment all the same. "What of the Decepticons? Are you saying they have overridden their safety protocols constantly? Or maybe removed them altogether?"

The way he shifted, the way his face closed down emotionally, had her regretting her choice of words. Inwardly, she cursed herself. Way to go Maggs, she cursed herself beneath her breath. You know what he's been through. He's all but confirmed it with bright neon lights. And there you go letting your mouth shoot before your brain has loaded the right words.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, resting her hand on his foot plate. "I'm prying and I shouldn't. It's that part of me that feels comfortable with you that lets me just say whatever comes to mind. That's cost me more friends – and jobs – than I can count. Look, if you say you are okay, then I'll believe you. Just know that if you need someone to talk to, you can turn to me."

He watched her rise, turning to head back to the base, and for reasons he couldn't quite understand, he did not want her to leave. It was illogical, and utterly dumbfounding, but as much as he did not want to answer any of her questions, he did not want her to stop asking, either. His memory core drug up the image of Ratchet standing alone on that runway a month and more ago, staring at a pre-dawn sky in the direction of his love. It also called to mind the way Ratchet had found a sort of peace in the brief conversation with Arcee and himself.

It also reminded him, quite bluntly, of the night he had acknowledged this human as his friend. Moments like this, he realized, as frustrating as they were, somehow made the most impact on his spark.

"You didn't ask me why I was envious."

Maggie glanced over her shoulder, halting in her trek up the beach. "Huh?"

Prowl turned to face her. "You did not ask my why I was envious that your organic eyes can change color according to your mood."

She turned as well, taking a few steps back. "Why are you envious? I can't imagine any of you Autobots being envious of anything we humans possess."

He looked down, and finding no inspirations in the sand around him, returned his gaze to the sea. To the unending swirling of color and water and organic life. "It is because they fit you, Maggie. They fit you and you fit this world, with its constant shifting of life and colors and its frantic pace."

And now they get to it, she realized. The heart of the matter had finally come out. "You're homesick," she whispered, sitting next to him again and leaning against him this time.

He twisted the word over and over in his processors before nodding. "Yes. You can call it such. But I am not yearning for a world that exists among the stars. I yearn for a world that is no more, for bridges and lights and metals that no longer exist. You ask me why I am so 'torqued' as you put it. It is because my world is gone, and even though this is not my world, I cannot stand the thought of its destruction, either. No one should have to face the knowledge that their home is gone forever. Not you, nor I, nor Elayna."

And suddenly it clicked.

"The cop," she murmured aloud, staring at him with wide eyes. "God, Prowl, I am so sorry. I call myself your friend and I miss something like this. She's… she's like the human version of you, isn't she? She's been kidnapped and implanted and hurt and forced into a war she didn't want to be part of in the first place. You see yourself in Detective Elayna Feugo."

His lip plates firmed into a line so tight she feared he had pressured them into one solid piece. "Yes," he gritted out, again uncertain if he was pleased or disturbed that this human could read him so well. "But unlike me, she has a home and a world to return to. I need to make sure that happens."

"You mean we need to make sure that happens."

He regarded her a moment as she bounced to her feet, brushing the sand from her clothing. "I mean no disrespect, Maggie, however Master Sergeant Epps and I have gone over the available data many times. There isn't enough known information to pinpoint a search area, nevertheless a plan of attack."

The unspoken so what do you think you can do that we can't or haven't already tried hung between them in the air. Maggie cheerfully ignored it, having long ago accepted the fact that some men – even Cybertronian males – tended to overlook the obvious.

"Prowl, there are two human phrases that I'm going to have to introduce you to. The first being that home is where you hang your hat."

"And the second?"

This time, she smiled. "That sometimes it takes a fresh pair of eyes to gain new perspective on a situation."

He glanced back at the ebbing tide just as the clouds disembarked from their covering of the moon, again changing the landscape and the way he viewed it. Maybe it was the trick of shifting from night vision to the normal light spectrum, or maybe there was some truth in Maggie's last statement. But for whatever reason, Earth didn't seem so foreign to him in that moment.

And again, for whatever reason, his spark didn't feel so heavy.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Phoenix had never been so close to an Autobot before, save for her mate. Part of her wanted to be alarmed, frightened even, of the metal behemoth staring at her with such calm intensity. It would have been the logical thing to do, and she doubted very much that he would hold it against her if she backed up a few steps. However, this was Optimus. This was her Prime, her leader, and the energy patterns that swirled around him were as familiar to her as the embrace of a friend.

Perhaps even more so, she mused, returning his unblinking stare. The warmth that enveloped her was more than familiar or comforting. It felt like that first moment when jumping into bed on a cold winter night, settling between the soft downy comforter and sheets, feeling every inch of tense concern melting away. It felt like walking into the coolness of the house after the summer heat had burned the energy right out of your flesh.

Refreshing and comforting, and perhaps a bit like being safe at home. Trusting, even.

It was odd that she had never noticed such sensations before. Of course, he had always inspired her with his presence, much as he did to all the members of NEST. But then she had been a simple human. She had not held a spark in her frame, and certainly had not had an optic in her head that could see that swirling, engulfing energy, either. She had not held the pieces necessary to understand that what made him Prime went far beyond magnificent charisma or strength. Now that she did…

Now, she just wanted to cry. Shame washed across her, shame for something she couldn't pinpoint or even begin to understand.

He tipped his head to the side, blinking his optic guards once. Phoenix dropped her gaze, one hand rising again to cover her spark and to cover her optic… and that was when she felt it. It was more than a knock on the inside of her skull, more than the buzz she normally felt when other Cybertronians were deep in conversation on private channels. It was an entreaty, an asking of permission for… for something.

She closed her eyes once more, taking that feeling and transforming it to the sound of a knocking hand within her mind, and then envisioned herself opening a door—

You should never be ashamed of who you are, Optimus's said, his voice nearly overwhelming her senses.

She jumped slightly. His voice echoed from all around, filling her tiny body from toe to fingertip with his very presence. It was so different than her conversations with Ratchet, or from listening in on an open channel that any Cybertronian could access. Ratchet's communications came from the center of her spark. Open comm. lines felt like listening to a loud speaker. This… this private communication was just everywhere inside her.

Optimus frowned, optics spinning as they narrowed in on her face. You have opened yourself completely to my command, Phoenix, he said as softly as he could, grimacing all the more when she winced at his words. I have not asked for control of your frame. Focus on my voice, little one. Isolate it to your audio receptors only. I do not require overrides of your programming for this conversation.

She trembled, trying to focus inward again and battle through the desire to simply leave herself open to his command. His energy filled her, washing across her spark until it flashed just out of the corner of her eye. It liked being this open to their leader, loved the feel of his spark backed by the power of the Matrix. It sucked down that energy like she would devour a bottle of water after a particularly long and punishing workout session.

Phoenix pushed past the drowning power, reaching for the mental picture of that doorway again. It felt like moving through thick syrup as the image of herself leaned against that open door, pushing with all her might to close it. And all the while her spark drew frantically at that power given off by their Prime. After what felt like forever, she managed to close the door, falling to her knees in the process.

And with that closed door, the link between them severed.

She sagged against his fingers, not even realizing that he had held out his hand to catch her. That knocking sensation returned a second later and this time she transformed the sensation into that of a ringing telephone. One that she picked up with gentle care.

Hello?

Much better, Optimus answered, his tone still echoing powerfully around her skull but it was no longer consuming her entire form. You have learned to master the ability to differentiate comm. requests quickly.

Master is not a term I would use at this point, she replied, stepping out of his grasp and wiping at the sudden sweat across her brow. More like fumbled my way to the right answer.

You give yourself too little credit, Phoenix of the Omega Lykaon Clan.

She blinked at him, mouth falling agape. How did you know I'd chosen a clan? I haven't told anyone, even Ratchet.

His lip plates curved in a bit of a smile as he straightened to his full height. You have been broadcasting it clearly to any that have come into your range. It is a curious choice of clan. How did you come by that decision?

She'd been broadcasting it? Now that was a new surprise. Mentally, she added that bit to her ever growing list of things to ask her mate when she had the moment. IF she ever had it at this point. Still, she found herself shifting from foot to foot, filled with a sudden feeling of unease at the question. Are you asking as my Prime or as my friend?

He blinked at that, his optics doing that spin-like thing again as he considered her. She returned that stare, marveling for the first time that his eyes weren't the exact same shade as Ratchet's. There were subtle variations to the coloring, little tale-tell markers that her human eye would have missed completely. Ratchet's optics held a hint of a greenish glitter to them, enough to make them as blue as the waters off the Caribbean to her enhanced gaze. Ironhide's held the slightest hint of purple within the blue, as if his were backlit with a tinge of reddish rage.

Optimus's gaze was a brighter blue, like pure white light had diffused through his lenses.

No, not white light… pure, blindingly bright power. It was the Matrix she saw blazing behind his gaze.

Would my asking as your Prime make such a difference?

She had to tear her gaze away from his, force herself to fall back into her own body. He was so consuming, overwhelming, now that she could see things others humans couldn't. And she knew in that moment that she belonged to him as the others did. Some core part of herself, of the spark that gave her life, recognized beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was an Autobot. She would die for him, live for him, and defend him as her Prime with every breath and every pulse of energy that gave her life.

It shouldn't, she answered honestly. But it does.

He seemed to consider that a moment. Phoenix, there are things that you have yet to learn about your new life. I feel your acceptance of the Autobot cause and the dedication within your spark brings joy to my own. But you are part human as well. I would not see that diminish under the weight you will bear if I accept you into our ranks.

She wasn't quite sure how this conversation turned into an interview to join the Autobots. Hell, she wasn't quite certain how she was broadcasting her clan, either. But what she was certain of was the fact that while his words weren't quite a rejection, they still stung nonetheless. I understand.

No, he replied gently, kindly. No, you do not. At least not yet. But you will in time.

Shame rose up again, swallowing her confusion and leaving her empty. She swallowed past the sudden need to cry, bowing her head. Why won't you accept me now? Is it because I am part flesh?

Let me ask you this. Why do you feel the need to weep?

The tears fell, that one human orb pouring forth her shame and her rejection. I am ashamed.

Of what?

She shook her head, confusion and shame battling for control. Of the fact that I can't cry for Josh, when I know I should, she gasped, opening the floodgates of her heart and letting her conflict pour into him. He was my friend, Optimus, my leader and my lover at one point. And I'm ashamed of it. And of the fact that I can't cry with both eyes now. And of the fact that you caught me trying to hide my tears.

Hide your tears, or hide your spark?

She jerked back at that, eyes wide as they stared into his. Had she really felt shame for that, for covering her spark and her optic with her hand? That had never occurred to her. I was protecting those around me, she replied quickly. I didn't want them to see my optic flashing red. I was so angry at the betrayal that—

Do you believe that Ironhide is angry at that betrayal? He cut in, again with the gentle sternness of a teacher.

Of course, she said automatically. Who wouldn't be?

Do you see him covering his optics in the presence of other NEST officers?

His words slapped at her worse than any physical rebuke ever could. She stumbled back again, eyes wide though this time in denial. And as everything he said finally sunk in, finally pushed past her shame and wounded pride, she found acceptance of his words. What she had done in covering her parts had been a slap in the face to those that had fought to save her life. She had shamed them in that action, and had shamed her mate.

And Optimus, understanding that she had not meant such with her actions, had graciously intervened before others could take note.

I'm so sorry, she bowed her head, shoulders shaking with her grief and shame. I understand that I have offended you and that I'm not worthy of being called Autobot, not when I can't accept being one in front of others.

A soft clicking sound filled her thoughts and she had vague impression of a parent being amused at how a child could understand and yet not completely comprehend a lesson. It almost felt as if he thought she were punishing herself far more than was necessary. Never before had she felt more like a teenager than now.

I have not rejected you, Phoenix of the Omega Lykaon Clan. You have earned the right to bear our symbol and to stand in support of our cause. Like Wheeljack, whom I have been told you see as a brother of sorts, I accept you as a civilian dedicated to our cause until such time as circumstances change.

The relief that he had not cast her out once more brought her to her knees. His hand caught her, lifting her smoothly from the table and placing her on his shoulder. Once more she was enveloped in the flow of his energy, and once more felt so at home and safe that the shame evaporated from her spark. The others in the room that had witnessed the silence exchange – human and Cybertronian alike – nodded their approval and turned back to the matter at hand.

I chose my clan because of my brother, she found herself replying.

Optimus shifted his optics to the side, regarding her. Because of Wheeljack?

No, because of Jazz. He's my sparkbrother. He told me so when I saw him in the Matrix the other night.

Those present in the room were treated to the rare and slightly amusing sight of watching Optimus Prime, Leader of the Autobots and Defender of Freedom everywhere, whip his head around and form his face plates in a look of utter shock.