Starscream's bunker seems less threatening, now that I know the mech inside is in touch with reality again. Not that that makes me any less nervous – it's the first time I'm back here since the day we all worked on him, and I'm not sure what I'm going to find. Hook and Ratchet have both checked up on him and have kept me in the loop, and Starscream's doing reasonably well all things considered, but I don't know if I'm ready to face him. I guess the only way to find out is to actually go inside.

Skyfire transforms behind me and puts a giant hand on my shoulder. "You ready?"

"I don't know," I admit. "You think he'll forgive me?"

"I think you really need to forgive yourself." Skyfire's voice is soft. "With what Star's lived through… He may be angry, he may be irrational, because that's his default response. But he knows what you did for him. He would have lost himself completely if not for you." His hand tightens slightly on my shoulder. "Come on. Let's go inside."

Technically, Skyfire isn't supposed to be here. He's supposed to fly me out here, then return to his work. But I don't call him out on it. He needs to be here, just as much as I do.

"Okay." I step out from under his hand and head towards the entrance. "Let's go do this."

As always, Cliffjumper's on the monitors. He seems to always be on duty, or at least always here. I wouldn't be too surprised if he recharges in here. It seems there really is truth to the attached-at-the-hip thing. I never would have seen that coming.

"How is he today?" Skyfire glances at the large one-way window. Inside, Starscream is standing by something that looks like a giant electronic whiteboard covered in some form of equation. He's frowning, staring at it, but he looks okay. He looks a million times better than the other times I've seen him.

"He's the new normal." Cliffjumper grins. "He's been cursing and ranting at that formula all day. I'd say it's a good day to start therapy. He could do with a fuel break."

As good an excuse as any, I suppose. So I follow Acid Storm into Starscream's apartment.

For the first time, Starscream looks up as I walk inside. He looks annoyed, probably at the interruption, but his expression softens when Acid Storm inclines his head respectfully and calls him Winglord.

"Cynosura is here to see you. She's one of the medics who were here the day your coding was edited."

Starscream frowns. He seems almost nervous, of all things, biting his lip and clenching his fists. "I… All right. Is Skyfire here? Can he come in after?"

"Sure he can, if you want." I sit down across from the large board, trying to appear as neutrally unthreatening as I can. "I assume you have things to talk about."

"We're working on a new form of energon filtration," Starscream replies. "It's important." He begins talking about fluidity and energy to solidity ratio and the merit of certain elements for energy bonding and more science that goes far over my head. I have a few creds in basic physics and chemistry, but what Starscream's talking about is so far beyond that that it might as well be a different form of science altogether.

Still, with all that, I'm just glad he's talking. Acid Storm seems to be thrilled as well, judging from the small smile on his face.

"I'm glad you get to work again." I lean back, look around at the apartment. "Is this place sufficient?"

Starscream waves a hand dismissively. "It'll do. I… It's not like I have any intentions to move elsewhere. Or any elsewhere that'll have me."

Acid Storm takes a step forward. I frown at him until he stands still again.

"You believe you would be unwelcome elsewhere?" I take care to keep my tone neutral.

Starscream sneers. "Of course not. I'm sought after. And my trine would… They would take me in. I think."

He's wavering between arrogant and tentative, nervous and confident. In any other patient it would be worrisome, but with the amount of slag that Starscream's lived through already, it's probably nothing more than could be expected. I feel much better about his chances now, even if the road to full recovery will be insanely long.

"Skywarp's getting bonded," Starscream says suddenly. "I want to be there. I want to support him."

"That's a worthwhile goal." I leave the statement hanging in the air, curious what he'll do with it.

"I don't know if I'm welcome."

"Is it important to you that they want you there?"

Acid Storm is looking from me to Starscream and back, following our conversation. I can practically feel Cliffjumper's optics on the back of my head.

Starscream looks down. He's biting his lip, though I don't think he knows he's doing it. "I know I don't deserve it. But I'd rather be welcome."

"You would be," Acid Storm interrupts, and I'm considering getting a private room for Starscream's next appointment. "Please, Winglord, you would be."

"You should talk to Skywarp about this." I shoot Acid Storm another look, willing him to shut up and fade into the background. "And if you want to, we can work on getting you ready for that ceremony."

"Yes." He looks away. "Yes, I'd like that."

"Tell me about them," I prompt after a moment. "Tell me about Thundercracker and Skywarp."

Starscream sighs, finally sitting down opposite me. "We used to be close." His voice is soft, quiet, more rational than I had expected. "Skywarp has always been rash, acting on intuition, jumping before he looks. And it always works out, too. He's confident. He adored Megatron instantly, and he's never… He's never felt guilty about convincing the rest of us to join."

"Do you blame him for that?" I emulate his tone, in the hopes that it will keep him calm. And determinedly ignore the way Acid Storm is almost vibrating behind Star. This isn't his business, or his place to say anything.

"No." Starscream shakes his head. "It was a good decision, in the beginning. I was the one keeping us there way past what was good for us. What was good for anybody." He clenches his jaw shut, lips closed in a narrow line. "I don't want to talk about that."

"That's fine." I pause, give him a moment to get himself back under control. "What about Thundercracker? Is he rash like that too?" I already know the answer to this one, but I'm not asking to learn more about Thundercracker.

"Thundercracker is rock-steady." Starscream smiles a little. "He's always needed convincing, and he considers things from every angle, but he's strong, and determined, and extremely loyal to the trine. We fit very well together, the three of us. Used to, anyway."

"You think that's changed?" We're getting closer to talking about Megatron again here, but hopefully this won't be so close that Starscream backs out.

"I had to push them away. To protect them." He looks away again, and I can almost see the walls come back up. Starscream will take time. "Did you know that Thundercracker is apparently courting Soundwave now? Primus knows how that happened. Soundwave never spoke two words to us."

"Peace changes many things," I offer. "Do you not approve?"

There's that annoyed hand-waving again, as if the whole topic is beneath Starscream's notice. "I approve of his happiness. He deserves that. Skywarp too, even if he is bonding to an Autobot."

"Everyone has a chance at happiness now." It's a loaded statement, one Starscream can turn either way, and he pretty much turns it as I suspected he would.

"Not everyone." He shakes his head. "For some, there's too much guilt. They don't deserve it."

We both – heck, all four of us, even Cliffjumper and Acid Storm – know who he's talking about.

"Far be it from me to put words in their mouth," I begin cautiously, "but I think Thundercracker and Skywarp would like you to be happy too."

Starscream shakes his head again, part dejected and part stubborn. "I have too much to make up for."

I open my mouth to object – carefully – to that, but I get interrupted by a priority ping. From Prowl. The message is short, but it shoots ice through my lines even so.

Soundwave has established contact with Earth. Astrotrain is on his way to get you.

I close my mouth again, take a moment to refocus. This is a bad time to freak out. When I'm sure I'm back in control of myself, I look at Starscream again. "I think you should talk to Skywarp and Thundercracker about that. Skyfire too – he's right outside, waiting to come in. And then you and I will talk again in a few days' time." I stand, ignoring Acid Storm's curious look. It is a weird place to end the appointment. "I'm afraid something's come up, and I have to head back. I'll send Skyfire in when I leave, okay?"

Starscream looks at me like he knows something's up, but thankfully he doesn't push. I'm not up to telling him he'll be brought to Earth for a trial, not today anyway.

I see myself out. Acid Storm seems content to hover at Starscream's wing, and Skyfire gives me a small, eager smile as I send him in. It takes conscious effort to remember that everyone else hasn't had their day interrupted by news that could be potentially devastating. That's just me.

The trip back on Astrotrain is long, and tense, and quiet.

The atmosphere in the big meeting room hits me like a punch to the face as I walk in. Ultra Magnus is there, alongside Prowl, both of them trying to appear calm and confident. I can see the tension in the way they hold themselves, though, and I don't think I'm the only one. Jazz is at Prowl's shoulder, all suave danger, somehow keeping both taller mechs calm. Scrapper's showing Magnus something on a datapad, and he doesn't seem too nervous either. Together, they almost look normal.

None of that helps against the sheer amount of stress that's coming from Ratchet, Soundwave and Thundercracker. I feel like I walked into a wall of it. None of the others are at ease either, and aside from Prowl nodding at me and Ratchet taking my hand as I sit down, none of them look at me. They're all focused on the large screen at the end of the table.

It's showing a human woman in a dark uniform, sitting in front of the United Nations flag. It's changed subtly, though I can't quite put my finger on what's wrong. The map contours seem blurry.

I don't get a lot of time to think about it. The woman raises her head, looks up from her desk, and I shiver.

I never thought I'd see a living human again.

"Greetings." Her voice is clipped, succinct, colored by an accent I don't recognize. "I am Ameryn Clarke, UN Security Council Liaison for Earth Plus, the branch of the Council responsible for handling alien and other extra-terrestrial situations. We received your documentation, and your request, and I have one question." Her eyes sharpen. "Why Earth?"

I watch her as Ultra Magnus replies, giving his name and rank, introducing the rest of us and briefly explaining the situation. It's soon clear that they're talking past each other, and she's looking more and more annoyed.

"Ultra Magnus, if I may." Usually Prowl wouldn't interrupt, he wouldn't need to, but I'm glad he did. This is like watching a train wreck. The fact that Ultra Magnus easily yields to Prowl is proof of that. "Mrs. Clarke, we chose Earth because we're in need. We know Earth has the necessary governing agencies in place."

Her brown eyes turn to him, still piercingly sharp. "Then you surely know as well that Earth has no reason to help you. Your race caused more devastation in a single stroke than we've ever managed ourselves."

"That may be true," he acknowledges. Rather diplomatically, I think, considering how good we – well, they, now – are at destroying themselves. "But since then, you've been left at peace. And this is an opportunity for Earth to form connections to alien civilizations far beyond our own."

"How so?" It doesn't look like he's appeased her much, but at least she's curious now. Prowl turns back to Ultra Magnus, who takes over as if they practiced this. Maybe they did, what do I know.

There's not much for me to do. I listen, mainly, and keep a hold of Ratchet's hand under the table. Is hold is tight - must be a lot more nervous about this than he appears. Which wouldn't be hard, considering his face is carefully, painstakingly neutral.

I know how he feels. I don't want to do this either. But the consequences of not doing it are too horrible to think about. None of us want a return to war.

"Agreed," the lady says finally. "I will contact the Criminal Court on your behalf, and we will begin establishing a new assembly with representatives from both departments. Contact me again in one week for more details on that, and so we can set up a travel itinerary. Until then." Her professional mask slips a little. "I am glad you're officially at peace now. God grant it remains that way."

The screen flickers and goes dark. Ratchet hides his face in his hands.

"This is actually good news," Ultra Magnus says cautiously. "It sounds like they're willing to do this sooner rather than later. Maybe we can put this behind us much faster than we thought."

"You're assuming we'll get off scot-free," Ratchet mumbles. "There's no guarantee of that."

"There's no guarantee of things going badly, either," Prowl points out sharply. "All we can do is prepare as best we can, and hope. On that note…" He glances down at his datapad before looking at me. "Cynosura, come with me, please."

I follow him out of the room, glancing back to see Jazz taking care of Ratchet. That's good – Ratchet looks like he's one ventilation away from panicking, and that won't help anyone.

I totally get it, though. I'm not too far from panicking myself.

Prowl leads me to a smaller office space down the hall. "We're working on potential allies," he explains as he leads me inside. "I was wondering if you remembered something or someone we don't."

Considering that the mech by the computer terminal is Streetwise, I seriously doubt it. I've never known him to forget anything at all, and unlike him, my mind's been dismantled and reassembled since we left Earth. This tastes like makework, like a distraction. Prowl's trying to keep me from worrying, it seems.

It can't be easy on him either, watching everything fall apart like this.

"Sure." I sit down next to Streetwise and rest my chin on his shoulder. "Who do you got so far?"

Dear diary,

I'm making a mental note to never, ever, ever try to sneak anything past Streetwise. That mech is as sharp as a tack, misses nothing and remembers absolutely everything. He would be scary if he wasn't such a sweetheart.

I didn't remember any names he didn't have. But it was nice to spend the afternoon looking up old friends and see what became of their families.

We found quite a few obituaries. That was heartbreaking. I'm actually glad Streetwise didn't have to read them alone.

Which was probably Prowl's second agenda, come to think of it. That mech is a master at decimating multiple birds with as few stones as possible.

… One week.

One week until we're contacting Ameryn Clarke again. One week until we know when exactly we're leaving, how long we have.

It's too long. And it's not long enough. I'm torn between hoping they'll tell us we can come in a decade and hoping we can come right now, so it can be over and done with.

I have no idea how I'll tell Starscream that he has to come to Earth to stand trial. He's doing so much better, but I can't imagine that going back to Earth will be good for him at this point. I'm glad both Thundercracker and Skywarp are coming.

Sunstreaker is doing better too. He doesn't talk to any Decepticons, but I've had some luck introducing him to a few of the neutrals. He's set up a painting studio in the loft over the clinic, and according to Sideswipe the weaver across the street comes by all the time. I'm glad he's at least tolerating the Neutrals. Now if we could get him to accept anyone, any mech at all, wearing the purple brand… I think there's hope for Sunstreaker, but it will take time. At least being on Earth won't cause him or Sideswipe any problems. He should be able to leave when we have to.

I'm not, though. A week is nowhere near long enough to figure out how I'll manage being parted from First Aid again. I'm not sure how I'll handle that.

Primus, I need a distraction.

Apparently I'm not the only one who thinks I need something else to think about. Because distraction is at my door bright and early, grinning at me like she's a cat who finally got the canary.

"Hey, Cynosura," Arcee drawls. "Are you ready?"

"Ready for what?" I've had my energon and am almost ready to leave, though I had actually planned to go to work. The clinic doesn't exactly run itself, even with Smokescreen's assistance. He's nowhere near ready to be working alone all the time.

Arcee doesn't seem to pick up on my tone. She takes my hand and tugs at it to get me moving. "We're going driving. I've been charged with making sure you're comfortable on your wheels."

"Charged? By whom?" I let her pull me along, mainly because we're going the way I was planning to go anyway. I can break away from her when we get closer to the clinic. I think.

"Jazz. He said you needed to blend in. Whatever that's supposed to mean."

I have a sneaky feeling I know exactly what that's supposed to mean. I don't much look like an Earth motorcycle, and I certainly don't move like one.

"I do have work today," I try, though I don't have a lot of hope that she'll listen.

And of course she doesn't. "Yeah, no, you don't. Smokescreen's covering for you, says he's having too much fun being the only shrink for you to come back to work yet." She winks at me. "Train that one too well and you'll be out of a job."

"I wish." I shake my head. "Not with the mecha around here."

Arcee's face falls. "Yeah. I guess. That's morose. Come on, let's get ourselves something else to think about." She veers left, and I suddenly recognize where we are. I've been here before, with Jazz, though we never actually got time to do much driving last time before he was called away. But I guess me knowing how to drive is a priority now, so it makes sense that he would send me a driving tutor.

I feel like I have to offer her a warning, though. "Sunstreaker will absolutely kill you if my paint is scratched."

"Not going to scratch your paint." She glances at my face and laughs. "Relax, Isobel. You look like I'm dragging you to your doom or something. We're just going to practice on this track until you're a bit more comfortable in your frame. Look, I even brought a cheer squad."

Over on a bench on the far side of the track, there's a flash of color. My optics change focus automatically – which I'm still not used to them doing – and the flash resolves itself into Hot Rod, standing on a bench and waving madly at me. Springer's sitting next to him, reclined and relaxed and grinning, and Blurr's –

- suddenly right in front of me. "Holyslaglookatyou!"

I haven't seen Blurr since Earth. I'd managed to forget how hard it can be to understand him sometimes.

I've missed him, though. So I hug him back when he puts his arms around me. "SlagIsobelyoulooksogood."

"Throw the breaks on a bit, speedy." Arcee's almost groaning. "I know you can go slower than that without much trouble."

"Fine. I'll-slow-down-for-you-amateurs." Blurr's grin is rakish. "Though-it's-not-my-fault-your-audials-can't-cope."

Arcee gives an exaggerated sigh. "Sure. Let's go with that. Anyway, Cynosura, welcome to the track! You ready to give it a go?"

I turn in Blurr's arms, narrowly avoiding hitting his face with a shoulder blade. "Um. No?" The track's been altered since I was here last – it's not quite an obstacle course, but it's not far from it. There are bumps and holes and gravel in the road, barrels and debris to go around or over, even a mud patch.

I glare at Arcee. "Sunstreaker. Slow and painful death."

She waves a hand nonchalantly. "Only if you crash. Which you won't. Come on, do a round so we can see what we're working with here."

Blurr lets me go and pats my back. "That's-why-I'm-here. I-won't-let-you-crash-Isobel."

That actually is reassuring. He's fast enough to catch me before something bad happens, I think. I hope.

"Fine," I sigh. There's clearly no point in arguing with them. "But I warned you."

I move out to the middle of the track before transforming. At least this stretch is nice and even, so I can get started okay. It's almost calming, driving like this again. I've been in my root mode too much the last couple of days. It feels good to move.

The calm feeling lasts until the first turn. Suddenly the track's full of junk – there's rubble, small pieces of metal that looked like they were broken off buildings, broken glass, that kind of rubbish. Navigating through it is more challenging than I'd thought. I'm at least glad I'm not the one who has to clean this stuff up. Moving through it is bad enough.

The next long stretch starts with a ditch of water. It's not deep, or very steep, but it's enough to force me to slow way down so I can drive carefully into it and then back out. The water's cold where it splashes against my frame.

After the water, the track becomes bumpy and uneven. It wouldn't faze most mecha, I think, but I'm not used to this kind of surface yet. Not even the trips out to the twins' cave can compare to this. I half worry I'll shake apart before I get across.

A short flat stretch, then more bumps. A steep incline that I have to speed up a bit to scale, with an equally steep decline on the other side. The mud patch, which I decide to drive around – I won't be managing some of these obstacles if my wheels get muddy. A series of obstacles to maneuver through, some of them with very narrow margins. Then a fricking jump.

I think they're trying to kill me. Either that, or kill themselves. Death by Sunstreaker.

I spin through the gravel pit, nearly falling over twice in the process, and hit the second turn. Hot Rod waves encouragingly at me. Then I'm past them, going up on a narrow ledge with a drop on either side. Seriously, I wouldn't have driven these things on my bike back when I was human. This is insane. I refuse to believe this is what Jazz wanted me to do.

Off the ledge, through a narrow slalom course where I knock over at least five traffic cones, over another series of tall, even speed bumps. It feels like going over waves. Then, at last, a long stretch of nothing where I can speed up a bit.

I slow to a stop in front of Arcee and transform. She doesn't look impressed. "I think I could have gone around there faster if I walked. Blindfolded."

I frown a bit. "It's not that easy."

"It is, though. You're being overly careful when you don't need to be. You're made of metal now, stuff won't hurt the way it did before." She sighs before nodding decisively. "There's only one thing for it. I'll have to ride you."

"You'll have to what now?" My voice is almost a squeak, and I don't get a response. Arcee transforms in front of me, and then her holoform is there.

Everything about it is painfully familiar. The hair, tied back in a ponytail. The skintight suit, not the same outfit that she wore on Earth but close enough. The smile.

"Transform back," she instructs me. "I'll guide you through, see if we can't get you more confident."

Um.

Okay.

I transform back, stand still for her to climb on. It's exceedingly strange, having someone straddling me like this. It feels sort of like giving someone a piggyback ride and yet not at all. Arcee's hands are firm and steady on my handlebars, feet pushing down against the footrests. I can feel her leaning forward.

"Okay, Cynosura." He voice is low, intent, and it's almost like she's murmuring directly into my audial. "Let's go."

She takes control, and we're off.

She doesn't bother driving around the rubble, instead going straight across the shards of glass and metal. "Your wheels aren't rubber tires. Driving over the sharp edges won't hurt you unless you go too fast."

She's right. I can feel the pieces break apart underneath me. I hadn't expected that.

Arcee speeds up on approaching the water. When I try to resist, she actually pinches me. "None of that now. If you can't let me have control, we can't do this. It's too dangerous if we fight each other."

I let her drive me into the water. It splashes everywhere, but we're quickly through, and much more easily than I'd imagined.

The bumpy part is worse. Arcee doesn't let me slow down much, she keeps me moving fairly fast, and I'm not sure my suspension is built to take the punishment. Maybe Ratchet will be killing Arcee too.

Still, we get through. Arcee treats the second stretch of bumpy road like it's a jump, going head-on for it and rushing me through. It's jarring and uncomfortable, but we manage. She takes the steep incline fast enough to really turn it into a jump, and I almost fall over when I land, but she saves me somehow.

"Pay attention to what I do." It's almost a command. "You'll be doing this yourself soon."

I'd groan if I could focus enough to manage.

At least Arcee swerves around the mud patch too. She's not slowing down for the big obstacles – instead, she does something to my handlebars that somehow separates my front wheel into its two halves, making me more steady and much more maneuverable as we dart past everything. I'd forgotten I could do that.

The jump at the end of the stretch is completely insane, and I'd swerve out to avoid it if I wasn't so scared of crashing. Arcee speeds up, forcing me over, and I have a second or so to be terrified before we hit the ground again. Turns out I'm steadier on three wheels, because the impact is almost easy. Then she speeds up again as we head towards the gravel pit, pushing my front wheel back together as we go.

"You're going to want a decent speed on the way in," she insists. "You can't speed up in the gravel, not without spinning out. So faster now, missy."

I obey. I can't not. I have no idea what I'm doing, and Arcee clearly does. The gravel sprays behind my tires, but it's a lot easier this time. And Arcee handles the rest of the obstacles like a pro. Her balance is impeccable as she keeps me straight over the ledge, and we go through the slalom course with tiny adjustments that always come at the perfect time, quickly over the speed bumps that turn to small jumps. And then she guns my engine.

We practically fly down the flat stretch. It feels amazing.

She turns us around at the end and heads back along the open part of the track, finally drifting to a stop in front of our spectators. Hot Rod whoops. "That was awesome!"

"It was an improvement, anyway." Arcee doesn't dismount. "You okay, Cynosura?"

"I think you have a death wish," I reply. "I mean, that was awesome, but I don't think I'm lucky enough to survive this twice."

"We'll see." I hear the grin in her voice. "Come on. Turn around, we'll go again."

Damn it.

Dear diary,

I'm sore all over. Arcee kept me at it until I could do the track with her riding me, but under my own control, and then I had to do a couple of laps on my own. It was seriously hard work, but I got better. And I guess I see where it's useful. Especially since I have to fit in on Earth and look like any other Cybertronian.

At least Arcee had the grace to get me cleaned up afterward. The track has a wash rack attached, which I guess is good considering that mud patch. She's also really good at getting into seams and stuff, I think I'm cleaner now then I was this morning.

I also got all the gossip, which was fun. Arcee's not dating Blaster anymore – apparently, someone now has the hots for someone else, though she wouldn't say who it was – but they're still good friends, and since there's not much going on that Rewind and Eject (and Laserbeak) miss, she knows almost everything. Surprisingly, Hot Rod contributed eagerly to the gossiping as well. It's clear that he's attracted to Arcee, poor thing, but it's not reciprocated. She told me in a quiet moment that he feels more like a younger relative.

It was so good to have an afternoon of just hanging out with friends. No Alliance, no therapy plans, no worries, just talking and having fun and wasting the time being ridiculous. I really needed the break.

I even got to talk to Springer a bit. We talked shop, of course, to the others' great annoyance. Not that they didn't deserve a bit of shop talk after trying to kill me with that obstacle course.

Springer said the Stunticons are still being troublesome. Motormaster's foul, and he's started pushing through the energy bars of his cell to reach out and physically hurt his gestalt mates. That spirals out to the others, so everyone's doing a lot worse than they were. It's not good, and something needs to be done.

I think I need to pay the Stunticons another visit.