A/N: Look at the awesome artwork that TheAwkwardEnthusiast made of Cynosura! Since this site hates links, you'll have to remove a few spaces: twitter itzenthusiasm/ status/1207408550462386176?s=19

I was so excited to see it :D :D I've been wanting to have art made of my girl for ages, so I jumped at the chance to get this commission done ^^

"Hey, Groove?" I roll over until I'm halfway resting on his chest. He's resisting waking up, I can feel it over the wires still connecting us, but it's mainly because he's so comfortable. First Aid, on the other end of the connection, is deeply in recharge.

"Hmm?" He sounds half-asleep, which is no shortage of adorable, and for a moment I'm tempted to just snuggle up and enjoy the closeness. But I need this figured out first, or my mind won't let it go.

"Who do I talk to about getting the Stunticons out of jail?"

He's suddenly wide awake and staring at me. "You want to do what now?" At least he manages to keep his tone low so First Aid doesn't wake up.

"Not all of them. Just Dead End and Breakdown." I sigh, resting my chin on his chest. "They're not doing well. And keeping the Stunticons together is detrimental to all of them. I need to come up with an alternate solution, or they'll be destroying each other."

Groove's smile is soft, as is the hand caressing my cheek. "You never stop saving people, do you?"

"Better get used to it." I nuzzle into his palm. "I can't relax knowing they're not doing well. Do you know who I can talk to?"

"I guess Ironhide. Prowl's technically responsible, but he's got other things to worry about right now."

I can't suppress the wince. "True. I'll comm Ironhide then."

"I'd show up at his door if I were you." He smiles up at me, hand moving to stroke my finial. "It'll be harder for him to say no in person."

I giggle. "I'll take advantage of that."

Groove's frame is warm beneath me, arms strong around my back. Suddenly I don't want to think about the Stunticons anymore.

He seems to catch my changing mood. His smile turns greedy, hands trailing down my frame. "Something you want?"

"Your frame. And then your spark." I'm not shy about this anymore, though I am mindful of First Aid still recharging. "Should we disconnect him?"

"That'll wake him for sure. If the charge wakes him up, he can join us." Groove surges up, one hand holding on to the back of my head as he kisses me greedily. "I want you."

I let myself fall into him, into the touches and caresses and hot, whispered words.

Ironhide and Chromia live in one of the older buildings, close to the center of town. It's narrow, and cramped, and very cozy, with one flat on each floor and windows on all sides. I glance at the nameplates outside the front door as I ping for entrance, not too surprised when I recognize most of the names. Tracks. Windcharger. Blurr. There are a few unknown names too, like Barricade and Tailgate, but it seems like this building is just what it looks like; a quiet, peaceful place to live, with no big names coming and going and everyone just getting along well enough.

The door buzzes open in front of me.

The inside is just as tiny and nice as the outside. On the third floor, the door's ajar, and there's a familiar figure waiting for me.

"Have to say, I thought I would have seen you sooner." Chromia grins at me. "Learning to fight not a priority right now?"

"Hopefully never," I admit truthfully. "It's good to see you."

"You too, Cynosura." She steps aside. "Come on in, 'Hide's inside."

The inside of their apartment is very… them. There's not a lot of room, but it seems spacious because of the lack of furniture. There's a training mat on the floor in one room, and a berth pad on the floor in another, and a bunch of large pillows in what's probably the living room. Ironhide's seated on one of them, a datapad in his hand.

I drop down on another pillow. It's surprisingly comfy. "Hi, Ironhide."

"Cynosura." He puts the datapad down and gives me a smile. "Come to schedule more training?"

"Hardly." I shake my head. "I came to talk to you about the Stunticons."

Ironhide frowns. "Okay. Not what I expected, but okay. What's up?"

I take a deep breath. Or would, if that was how my frame worked. "I want to get Dead End and Breakdown out of prison."

Ironhide is shaking his head before I even finish talking. "No can do. They're in there for everyone's protection, kid. Not just their own. They're insane."

Oh, he does so not have the right to use that term. "They are not," I bite back. "Not those two, anyway. And Wildrider and Dragstrip are too close to Motormaster for me to have a chance to figure out how to even help them." I lean forward, try to impress on him how serious I am about this. "I need Dead End and Breakdown out, Ironhide. Menasor's already seriously unstable. Do you want an unhinged gestalt on your hands?"

Ironhide glares at me. Then he laughs, loudly. "Oh, you haven't lost any of your attitude in that body change, have you?"

I'd be offended if this was anyone but Ironhide. But coming from him, that is a compliment. "Most definitely not." I sigh. "I'm serious about this. I need your help, Ironhide."

"Yeah, you do." He looks at me seriously. "This isn't as easy as to pop the cuffs off them and run them through a mandatory psych eval. Those two need a lot of help. They're not ready to be on their own, Breakdown in particular."

"I know. I know that." I try my best smile. "That's why I need your help."

It takes several days of planning. Check-ins with Prowl, Ultra Magnus, Ratchet, Hook and Red Alert. More comm calls than I've ever done before. But in the end, it all comes together like I wanted it to.

"You work hard when you want something," Ironhide comments as we walk up to the prison.

I shoot him a grin. "You shouldn't be surprised by that."

"I'm not," he chuckles. "I'm a little impressed, yeah, but not surprised." He nods at the building. "You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

Truth is, I haven't talked this over with Dead End. Or Breakdown. Heck, I've never even talked to Breakdown. But this is in their best interest. I just hope they'll agree.

Springer meets us inside, nodding respectfully to Ironhide. "I haven't talked to them. But Motormaster is sedated, as you requested. Hook wasn't too happy about it, but he got it done."

"Good. With him out, we stand a decent chance at getting to the others without too much ruckus." Ironhide glances at me. "You have a plan for getting them out of here?"

"Yeah." I straighten, mentally preparing for going inside. "I'm going to ask them."

It's a very simple plan. And I'm fairly sure Dead End won't be a problem. He's made great progress in his sessions. Breakdown is a wildcard. He might not even listen to me.

"Dragstrip and Wildrider?" Ironhide asks, stepping through the door as Springer opens it.

"Wildrider burns through sedation too fast for it to do any good," Springer explains. "Drag Strip is simpler." He winks. "We gave him a gaming datapad. It won't survive for long, but hopefully it'll be just long enough."

This feels like a strange mix of undercover military operation and prank. The mood is really weird.

I nod at Runabout and Runamuck as we walk past them. Ironhide's told me that they'll be in here for just a few more days, and then they'll be surrendered to Kup's and Ultra Magnus' tender mercies for some proper training. If they're going to be on the mission to Earth, they need to be integrated into the command structure. And learn to listen, which I suspect is a taller order.

They're not my problem today, though. Or at all, if Springer is to be believed. So I'm focusing my attention on the mechs who are.

The Stunticons' cells are much calmer than last time I was here. Motormaster is out, lying on the floor in a heap. Hook is in his cell, connected to his medical port. He gives me a brief nod. "I'll keep him under until you're out."

"Out?" Wildrider leers at me. "Where are you going, pretty plating? Are you leaving without us?"

"Hello, Wildrider." I keep my tone neutral. "How are you?"

"Could be better." His optics rove over me. "Wanna help?"

I'm grateful when Springer steps between us, blocking his view of me. Wildrider gives me the creeps – and I'm fairly certain there's not much I can do for him. Not without intense sessions and a seriously long-term treatment plan, anyway.

A problem for another day.

Dead End looks up at our approach, nods politely. I've got great hopes for him. And now I'm really glad we've already established a rapport. I'm not fool enough to think he trusts me – he doesn't trust anybody – but he'll listen.

"Hi, Dead End." I offer him a smile.

"Stand up and stand back, please." Springer is all professional, clearly trying to not aggravate the situation. He pulls a pair of stasis cuffs from subspace.

Dead End sighs. "I knew this would happen." He does as ordered, though, holding his hands up in front of him. "Kind of a pathetic end, but it's nothing more than I'd expected."

Springer steps forward calmly and puts the cuffs on him. "It's not an ending, mech. It's a beginning."

I move over to Breakdown's cell. Just like last time, he's hiding back in the covered area. I can see the glint of light reflected in his plating.

I have no idea how to handle this one. All I know about him is what I've read. And coming straight at him is the best bad option – sneaking around the corners will just make him distrust me more.

"Breakdown." I keep my voice calm and even. "You and Dead End are being moved to a different facility. You will not be harmed. Please come forward."

I don't really expect it to work. But somehow it does. There's movement in the pile of plating, slow, hesitant, but movement all the same. Little by little, Breakdown shifts forward. He doesn't stand up fully, not really – it's more of a hunched-over shuffle, like he's making himself small to avoid being seen by others. Dead End glances at him and shakes his head.

Springer steps away from Dead End's cell, leaving Dead End with Ironhide. He stops in front of Breakdown's cell door. "Stand up and stand back, please."

I like the way he works. He's keeping to a ritual, establishing a routine. It's probably not that important to Dead End, but it's critical to Breakdown. If there's a routine, there's something in place that he can trust.

He doesn't look at Springer. But he steps back, holding his hands in front of him like Dead End did. When Springer unlocks the door and puts the cuffs on him, he doesn't struggle.

"Hey, what about us?" Wildrider demands, punching the energy bars. "Aren't we coming too?"

"No," Springer replies without looking at him. He isn't looking at Breakdown too much either, I notice, not aside from those cuffed wrists. I decide to take a page out of Springer's book and look away. "You'll be moved to new cells later today, Wildrider. Be as patient as you can until then." He guides Breakdown forward, past the other cells and back the way we came. Ironhide follows with Dead End, leaving me to bring up the rear.

"Scrapper will make sure the twins are distracted," Springer says, quietly enough that the rest of the Stunticons can't hear it. "We'll be out of here in a few minutes."

It really feels like walking out of Gringotts with all their gold in my subspace. Or simply walking past the guards of any bank in the world. Or, for that matter, just walking out of prison in someone else's clothing. We're out of the prison without any problems whatsoever.

Outside, Ultra Magnus is waiting with his trailer already open. Springer guides Breakdown inside, and Ironhide follows with Dead End. I comm Ultra Magnus as soon as we're all inside, letting him know we're ready.

That went a lot better than I'd feared. But we're not out of the woods yet.

The drive isn't too long. As soon as Ultra Magnus has stopped completely and opened his trailer, I'm outside and ready to unlock the door to the center.

Of course Smokescreen is already there. I have no idea how he found out, and he just offers me a grin instead of an explanation.

He's got entirely too good a poker face. Which is part of what'll make him a good psychologist.

I lead the strange procession inside. Neither Stunticon seems very interested in their surroundings as we head to the largest meeting room, where the others should be waiting for us.

The chairs are set up in a circle. It's intentional, to avoid anyone paying Breakdown too much attention. Four of the seats are already taken, and I smile at Red Alert and Inferno, then at Hound and Mirage before sitting down in a free seat. Smokescreen follows my lead – I notice he's set up an extra chair for himself – and the others follow suit.

For a moment, the silence is tense. Then Dead End sighs. "So. Not an execution."

"No," I agree. "Not an execution."

Ironhide looks at me. It reminds me that I'm supposed to be in charge of this whole affair. I direct my words at the two Stunticons. "You're probably wondering why you're here." I wait for a reaction, not too surprised when I don't get one. "After thorough discussion, we've made the decision to separate you two from the rest of your gestalt. This is mainly because we feel that you would do better in a different scenario, and because it'll give us the chance to work differently with the three Stunticons still incarcerated. As of this moment, the two of you are on parole."

"Parole?" Dead End looks surprised, like this was far outside the scope of what he expected.

"Parole," I repeat. "You will both be housed in halfway homes of sorts, where you will receive health care and training in a vocation you're comfortable with. The mecha you live with will be responsible for you, and you will check in daily with Ironhide or a designated replacement if Ironhide isn't available. This arrangement will be evaluated at regular intervals."

I take a moment to enjoy the stunned look on Dead End's face. Breakdown is unfortunately still huddled up in his chair, glowering at everyone.

"If you have complaints, or if something is wrong, if you don't get along with your caretakers or for some reason seek to end the arrangement, we will discuss is. You can always reach out to Ironhide, or to me, or to Smokescreen. We will do our best to make sure you're doing well." I look at Dead End, who looks back at me, then at Breakdown, who doesn't. "This is meant to be to your advantage. We want to help. We – I – want to see you thrive. Do you have any questions?"

Breakdown is still. Dead End shrugs.

"Very well." I look at Dead End first – if we start with him, it might give Breakdown a chance to relax. "You may know of them already. But allow me to introduce Hound and Mirage."

When we'd discussed who would house the Stunticons, it wasn't hard to come up with options for Dead End. Despite his attitude he's generally likeable and doesn't cause much trouble. He needs a firm hand, they all do, but he's not a bad kid. He's just young and maladjusted. With that in mind Ironhide suggested himself and Chromia, or Kup, or even the Aerialbots, but we landed on Hound and Mirage in the end. Primarily because I know Mirage is equipped to handle pretty much anything Dead End can think up and still be nice, and Hound is just the most easy-going person I think I've ever encountered. Hopefully it'll be a good fit.

"Hello, Dead End." Mirage has taken on the tone I remember well from Earth, the smooth, cultured, enticing timbre that is meant to draw you in without you noticing. I have to make myself not smile at it. "I am Mirage. We're looking forward to mentoring you. I hope it will be beneficial for you."

"And I'm Hound." Hound has an easy smile on his face. "Any questions, just ask."

Dead End just shrugs again. "None right now. Oh, wait. Do I get wash rack access?"

Mirage chuckles. "As much as you want. And your own berth room. Access to the polishes and paints we keep on hand." He winks. "We've stocked up on your colors."

There's a faint hint of a smile on Dead End's face. That's enough to let me know this was the right decision.

One down. One incredibly difficult one to go.

"Breakdown." I wait for a reaction. After a minute or so, he glances at me suspiciously. I nod towards the other two 'Bots we brought in for this. "Breakdown, this is Inferno and Red Alert."

"Hello, Breakdown." Red Alert's voice is brisk and no-nonsense. "I'm the Autobot Security Director. That means I control the cameras."

Breakdown blinks at him, and I dare to hope.

"We live in a secured building at the edge of the settlement," Red Alert continues. "It's a fenced-in property with top notch security systems, installed by myself. It is not part of the public security grid, and the inside of the house has no cameras, no surveillance, no easily accessible vents or windows. Nothing is hackable, there's no way for anyone outside of the building to get access."

"You will have your own room," Inferno says, taking over the explanation. "There's a window with privacy screens, and a lock on the door that can be coded to your specifications. No one else will have access, except Red Alert. You will have your own private wash rack as well. We will not intrude on your privacy unless you're comfortable with us doing so."

Breakdown is staring at both of them now.

"You're of course free to move around the building as you please, outside of our own private rooms." Red Alert gestures to himself and Inferno. "We will arrange for outside tutors if you want, or we will tutor you. Our goal in this," he leans forward intently, "is for you to be comfortable."

"In time, we hope you'll trust us," Inferno supplies. There's a hint of hope in his voice.

"At the very least, we want you to feel safe." Red Alert doesn't smile. I don't think he smiles often. "I designed this system with myself in mind. I believe it could work well for you too."

Red Alert has improved a lot since the war ended. He has fewer episodes, doesn't need as much medical attention anymore. He's got control. He's still a bit of a paranoid glitch, though. And I've never been happier about that.

Breakdown stares for another moment, before giving a curt nod.

I can feel the weight dropping from my shoulders.

"There's a contract for everyone to sign, if you're all agreed." I stand up and get the relevant datapads to hand out. "It's a formality, mostly, but signing it also makes it official. That means that Dead End and Breakdown, you sign up for monitored parole with regular contact with your parole officer. And Hound, Mirage, Red Alert, Inferno, you sign up for mentoring responsibilities and will be held accountable for your mentee's actions."

"I've read this through," Red Alert murmurs, clearly for Breakdown's benefit. "It's solid. They're not out to fool anybody." He signs his name and hands the datapad to Inferno.

After a few seconds, Breakdown signs as well.

Holy crap. I think we've found the perfect match for Breakdown.

The meeting doesn't last much longer after that. Mirage drags a grinning Hound and a bemused Dead End out, chattering about energon goodies and the merit of glossy versus matte polish. Dead End waves at me as they leave.

Red Alert stands, somehow managing to gather up Inferno and Breakdown without looking at either of them. Inferno doesn't look at Breakdown either, but still manages to place himself in the rear so that Breakdown is hidden from view by his larger frame. Red Alert nods at me, Inferno offers a smile, and then they're gone as well.

As soon as the door closes behind them, Ironhide's hand crashes down on my shoulder. "That was a frickin' great idea, kid."

"Thanks for helping me." I stop suppressing the grin, now that they're gone. This went so much better than I'd feared. "I didn't think we'd succeed this well."

"I have to admit, I had my doubts about Red Alert," Springer muses. "But now I actually think it'll be the perfect place for Breakdown."

"Red Alert is paranoid enough that he's created a shield around himself," Smokescreen muses. "And Breakdown knows that. Pit, everyone knows that. Turns out, Breakdown can hide behind that shield too. And then Inferno is easygoing enough to ease them both out of it. Look at the progress Red has made."

I stare at him, one eyebrow raised. "Who died and made you a psychologist?"

Smokescreen smirks. "What can I say? I've been trained well. Speaking of, you have a few more sessions today."

"I haven't forgotten." I can't put everyone on the backburner. There are far too many mecha needing help for that. "Ironhide, Springer, thank you."

"Thank you." Springer smiles at me. "I never felt good about those two locked up in there." He holds out a hand for me to shake. His hand is big enough to almost engulf mine completely.

"Let me know when the rest of them have settled a bit more, and I can come out and work with them?" I ask as I walk them to the front door.

"Definitely. Drag Strip and Wildrider hopefully just need some time to settle, away from Motormaster's influence." He sighs, a faint frown etching his face. "That one will need a lot of work, I'm afraid."

"Yeah, he will." I shake my head. "Problem for another time. I'll see you around, okay?"

"Sure thing, Cynns." Springer winks at me.

I groan. "Oh, not you too. It's bad enough I can't get Roddy to stop calling me that."

And Hot Rod is going to Earth with us. I'm going to be hearing that cursed nickname a lot.

Springer just laughs at me as he leaves, though, Ironhide following him and grinning.

Slaggers.

I close the door behind them and turn to Smokescreen. "So who've we got today?"

Smokescreen hands me a datapad with my schedule on it. There's a smattering of familiar names, most of them low profile cases. But not the last one.

"Soundwave asked," Smokescreen explains, seeing where I'm looking. "And Thundercracker asked for him. Pit, even Prowl asked. Apparently we need him able to handle whatever's going to happen on Earth."

There had been no keeping it secret from Smokescreen. He's too integral to what's going to happen, he needs to be trained more intensively if he's going to be able to handle being alone with this in my absence. We had to tell him.

This secret's becoming rather public.

"Of course he did." I sigh. "Well, we might as well get to work. I think you should sit in on every appointment today, if they'll let you."

Smokescreen nods. "I'll get the forms ready."

It's a daily grind. But I'm kind of enjoying it. Even with Soundwave thrown into the mix.

Dear diary,

I got a comm from Hound as I left the clinic. Apparently, Dead End has already settled in really well. He hasn't stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop, but he seems happy with the situation.

That right there is worth it.

Primus, I'm tired. I could sleep for a week. Today's been one of those emotional… not rollercoasters, exactly, but a continuous stressor. From the Stunties to regular Neutrals to ex-Decepticons to freaking Soundwave, all in the space of a work day, and I still brought work home with me. It's exhausting. But I have more treatment plans to make, plus more information packets to prepare for Smokescreen, and I want to get started on a few more group talks.

First Aid works late today. He traded shifts around so Ratchet could spend time with Optimus. And so he could be in charge of little Level's weekly check-up. He's promised me image captures, too.

I'm glad there will be more sparklings around. Hopefully Optimus' one won't be the last bitlet I hear of in the near future.