Optimus considers his recent willingness to treat his enemies more ruthlessly. Breakdown makes a few realizations of his own.

AN- The end of the relic hunt, finally. It's a bit more fun to write chapters that aren't following canon.

The construction site had found something very interesting.

It now sat on the back of a trailer, its containment box cabled down to the truck bed.

O'Connor was looking at it pretty intently. A table away, Rojas fiddled with his computers to make sure he was recording every bit of this.

The first agent was taking readings of the thing outside. Slowly, they registered and crawled onto his screen.

"Huh." O'Connor looked at the readings blankly. Rojas glanced over his shoulder to see what the big deal was.

He recognized the readings. They weren't identical, but they were close. Some sort of derivative then? That would explain the coloration.

"That alien or something?" Rojas asked the other soldier. The first man gave a slow nod.

"I think. I mean, it's gotta be."

It was.

"Isn't there someone we gotta contact if we dig up something extraterrestrial?"

"Oh," O'Connor snapped out of his awed reverie. "Yeah, 'think there is."

Rojas gave him a slap on the back. "Howsabout you go do that then?" he 'offered' pointedly. The other soldier nodded at him.

"Yeah. I'm on it." He cast one last glance down at the alien readings and then walked from the room.

Good.

Rojas pulled his own comm unit free. It sat underneath folds of clothing, hiding away from anyone with prying eyes.

"Vitrolof. Sir."

He looked at the screen and then out the window at the red crystals.

"I've got something for you."

The seeker buried under the armor cackled.

"Not so big and strong now, are you?" The voice distorted in its helmet, but it was still very clearly Starscream's.

Dreadwing's foolhardy rush at the seeker saw him running into a bulky arm; a moment later and he'd been flung over the ice.

Unsurprisingly, Breakdown charged despite seeing the other's failure.

His charge ended much the same. Starscream laughed even louder.

It sounded even more unhinged than usual.

"I haven't had this much fun since I punched that hole-"

Red plating. Gray faceplates. Always a smile to spare.

"- in Cliffjumper!"

Arcee's grief at his loss. Bumblebee's subdued approach to doing Cliffjumper's old jobs. Another name Ratchet remembered as someone he had failed, despite being unable to have changed a thing about the circumstance.

Optimus wished he could let himself feel their losses. Losing a member of what his unit considered to meet the human concept of 'family' created a dull ache; the emotional equivalent of phantom pain, a logical reaction to losing someone valued, but never the full sensation.

Primes did not allow themselves to grieve any more than that.

And he had grown used to it. It took orns, vorns, but he had. He could face off Megatron without falling into any despair over fighting his old friend. He could watch thousands of his fellow cybertronians perish.

The Matrix within him dulled the catastrophe so that he could continue to lead survivors.

When Starscream had murdered Cliffjumper, Optimus had felt that numbed ache.

He had lost another good soldier. Another good companion. But the death had not given him the pain that fed revenge.

So when Starscream had expressed his desire to defect, Optimus had been ready to accept. It would have been a slow process of distrust and probationary restrictions, but the advantages were important to the autobot cause and for the seeker himself. As unlikely as it was that Starscream's motives were anything but selfish, every being was unique. Every being came to crossroads in their lives. Everyone made decisions and later moved in different directions. It did not matter if they were autobot or decepticon or neutral or human-

A Prime was made to see the world from behind a screen. They were meant to make dispassionate decisions; only one with strong morals but the ability to dissociate from every hardship and trauma could effectively lead.

They would not be motivated towards revenge. They would not feel lingering bitterness.

And then Optimus had let the Matrix pour into Unicron's spark and lost it all.

When Jack returned his access to Vector Sigma, Orion had returned to Optimus.

But not to the one his unit here knew (with the exception of Ratchet).

Orion Pax had transformed into Optimus Prime when he had found the Matrix of Leadership; but it had taken time for the new Prime to adjust and find the ability to step away from the passionate and step behind that screen.

Then vorns had passed and Optimus had nearly forgotten what it was like to be Orion.

The recent adjustments brought it back.

And now-

Now those emotions so easily felt by Orion Pax were almost dissociative to experience. They felt alien; they felt as though they did not belong to him and yet experienced them regardless.

They made his processor struggle to reconcile to a solid identity. His spark, with the Matrix, knew he was Optimus; he was a Prime.

But his memories...

Once, Ratchet had told him about a rare medical occurrence. Sometimes, when a mech lost a limb, he did not accept the replacement. Sometimes, a psychological effect interrupted the transition and body's acceptance of what, by all logic, should have integrated seamlessly. The mind refused to believe this new limb was the same as the old, because it wasn't. But a mind had to accept that illusion. It had to. Because if it didn't, the body rejected the replacement. It rejected all replacements. And that mech could never again have a limb safely.

His spark knew he was behind that screen of leadership again. But his reawakened Orion memories rejected the screen.

And suddenly, being bitter, angry, vengeful, over the loss of a friend became a possibility.

Ratchet had called him soft while he had been dosed on synthetic energon

The medic, his old friend, believed he would not terminate Megatron because of lingering affection and hope for the past gladiator to replace the madman the warlord was now.

But the problem seemed rather to lay in his detachment.

He thought of red plating. He thought of jokes he never laughed at. He thought of a loyal, energetic, and caring bot.

And he felt that phantom energy from his life without the Matrix:

He thought of justice tainted with revenge.

He thought of impossible change from a mech who had given him false hope for a redemption many times in the past. He thought of the price mech's like Cliffjumper paid for Optimus's softness, pragmatism, and yes- hope.

"And you!" Starscream yelled at him. "I will beat the living spark out of you just so I never again have to endure your pontificating!"

The seeker grinned beneath his indestructible armor.

Optimus felt the weight of mistakes recently made fall down on him. He would take full responsibility for this disaster.

Even that which belonged to Dreadwing and Megatron and anyone else.

The Prime couldn't make them take responsibility; so he would take it all himself.

The war weighed him down and Optimus had not yet found a way to lift it.

"Breakdown-" he stopped the mech where he had been making to charge from again. Before the other asked a question, Optimus had turned to Dreadwing as well.

He knew why he veered for the one seeker over the other. He knew why he had lain his cards down as he had.

Dreadwing was a predictable mech. He was capable of empathy and honor. His downfall lay in his blindness to the decepticon cause; his inability to see that it was a faction undeserving of his loyalty.

But Starscream was chaotic. He evoked pity and spat on it. He had so very much potential and it caused so much more disapointment to watch him fall back on murder and mockery.

How often did Megatron string hope along for redemption and murder it?

With a pang of acceptance, Optimus knew why he would always chose the seeker who would not play with false hope over the one who acted, likely without realizing, as his master.

"Our battle remains unfinished," he went on, "but if we do not unite against our common foe, Starscream will destroy us both."

And that was where he became more dangerous than Megatron himself.

Throughout the vorns, Optimus had failed to kill the warlord and Megatron had failed to kill the Prime.

But Starscream would not have their rehearsed hesitation in either circumstance. With the Apex armor, he would tear each of them apart.

Such power made him blind.

It gave them the abilities to win; and so they did.

As the armor clad seeker sank down into the broken ice, Optimus sighed again.

It did not feel like a win.

Dreadwing looked at the two of them with clear hostility.

"Now that our alliance has served its purpose-"

But of course. Still, he would attempt the offer no matter how futile.

"Starscream is gone and the Apex armor with him," Optimus interrupted, "Is there really a need to renew battle when the goal has been lost?"

The blue seeker frowned.

"We have other unfinished business," he growled, casting a glance between the two of them. Optimus took a slight step in front of Breakdown.

"I bore Skyquake no malice, and I regret the role I played in his demise, so I will appeal to you as I once did your twin: turn your back on the decepticon cause and help me end this war."

He cast a glance at the shattered ice where Starscream had sunk beneath the sea. A mech irrevocably damaged by war and unable to tear away from murderous desire.

"For his sake; and for all who have fallen."

The defection of the Nemesis's medics had already provided the autobots an advantage. They were able to hit more mines with the extra numbers, which offset the strain on their fuel resources having two extra tanks to feed created.

Having one more, a strong flyer like Dreadwing, could help push this war over the peak. It would leave Megatron with only Soundwave as an officer; and as dangerous a duo as those two were, Optimus believed they could be defeated.

Perhaps with the war over- he could step back from the screen and invest himself among those he cared the most for.

"You saved my life today." Dreadwing's frown darkened. He looked behind Optimus to the other grounder. "But I must terminate or capture any and all traitors I run across. And I will never forget what role you did play in my brother's demise."

His clawed servos spasmed and he spat: "Others may betray my master, but I will never turn on him."

The obvious barb made Breakdown growl. Optimus knew that the grounder was easy to rile with insults. There was a good chance Dreadwing knew as well.

Contrary to his words, the mech took a step back.

"I will terminate you- both of you-"

Optimus wondered if Dreadwing had heard himself falter there. It seemed the flyer, despite what he said, did not have the passionate drive to kill his former subordinate.

"-the next time we meet."

And then he tore from the ground.

So be it, Dreadwing.

"Breakdown." He turned away from the departing jet and looked at the frowning mech. "You did well today."

The blue mech shifted uncomfortably.

"What? We failed."

"But you still performed admirably," the Prime reassured.

There was a silence.

"I do not believe you desire to be an autobot at this juncture," he began again. "Your original decision to go neutral seems to be more honest. That said, this does not mean you cannot have a place among us. I just do not desire for you to pressure yourself into identifying with a faction you do not yet believe in."

The smaller mech looked away in discomfort.

"But...you'll still let me stay with Knock Out?"

"We will." Optimus nodded. "As I said, this was an evaluation of sorts. I want you to tell me how you envision your future among us. I want you to tell me what role you would like to play. What jobs you want to take on."

There was another pause while Breadown digested that.

"Wait-" he looked up at the Prime. "You're saying I get to...what, choose? What if my choice is to not help you at all?"

"Then we will respect that," the other stated gravely.

That also seemed to take a moment to understand.

"If I may make a suggestion," Optimus spoke up again when he felt that the silence had been long enough for Breakdown to mull on the news "-You seem to work well with subordinates. I have never seen a vehicon hesitate to shoot after requesting them to stand down. You obviously hold respect and admiration among your former troops."

Breakdown looked away quickly. The mech stared into the empty human facility with a thoughtful scowl.

"I dunno about that..."

Although it may have been too much too soon, Optimus gave the reassurance he wanted to give to the mech so obviously unused to compliments. "I believe your former leader underestimated you. He utilized you only for brute force. But today I saw a mech who understands the value of teamwork and subordinates."

The expressions on Breakdown's face morphed and for a moment Optimus saw what seemed to be horrified grief of a sort. But that was not unexpected; many former decepticons struggled to accept that their master had never seen them for what they could truly do. Such epiphanies were never painless.

While the mech mulled on this, he knelt down and carefully pinched a lump of snow from the ground.

"What-what are you doing?" Breakdown asked in confusion. Optimus straightened up, the tiny icy clump resting gently on the palm of his servo.

"I am bringing back a snowball for Rafael."

After all, he had failed to uphold that promise on the last two artic trips he had taken.

"Guess I'll be headin' back to base with you now."

Well, he didn't have to sound so glum about it. Ratchet shook his head.

"You require a thorough examination," he said and Wheeljack barked out a laugh.

"Only thing I require right now is some hole sealant," the wrecker denied and patted the side of his fallen ship. "Believe me, the Jackhammer here is more needing of repair than me."

Typical wrecker bravado. Ratchet was a medic; who did Wheeljack think he was fooling? The small mech was covered in blunt force dents and lacerations; his audials would need an examination and likely recalibration (if not repairs and replacements) after being hit with the resonance blaster.

It was an attitude Ratchet had to deal with whenever Bulkhead was injured and honestly? he was old. He didn't have the patience for that type of attitude anymore.

But he'd leave him be if Wheeljack insisted. No need to force care on someone who didn't want it.

Another thing he'd picked up in the vorns of field medicine.

"But I figured I gotta head back anyway," the wrecker added with a shrug. "Boss wanted me around to keep an optic on our newest recruits, 'member?"

"W-e-ll, don't sugar coat it on my behalf," Ratchet blustered with a huff. It made the wrecker grin; a brief motion though. The mech was injured and exhausted and smiling took energy.

The groundbridge vortex tore open nearby. Wheeljack took a limping step away from his ship.

The Jackhammer would have to stay here until he got the clearance to leave base and repair it.

Ratchet doubted the wrecker was happy about that.

"Listen. Wheeljack."

The other mech made no motion to hint he was, but the medic continued regardless of that offense.

"I want to thank you for your... backup."

He thought using the word he'd insisted so hard earlier was false would get something from the wrecker.

But all Wheeljack said was "Yup."

They took a few more steps towards the bridge before the wrecker turned his head ever so slightly towards Ratchet. There was another exhausted grin there.

"Anytime...Ratchet."

His name sounded so much better than any of the teasing nicknames Wheeljack could come up with. Ratchet couldn't help but smile back.

Even though he knew all of this teasing and respectful affability was temporary. Wheeljack would leave; as soon as Optimus no longer thought they needed the extra autobot veteran to bot-sit their two defectors, the wrecker would return to his independent travelling.

Still. Maybe whenever he dropped by for a visit, he'd remember to call Ratchet by his name. Time would tell, he supposed.

They stepped through the groundbridge and Ratchet pointed at his medbay.

"Get in there-" he demanded and Wheeljack trudged over to it grumbling.

Then his immediate attention was on Raf.

"Ratchet!" the boy said happily. He was on the catwalk and pointing at the main screens. Also on the catwalk was Fowler, talking into a comm line. While Ratchet didn't see Optimus nearby, Breakdown was already back and lounging against one of the walls of the main room.

What was far more important than him or the absent Optimus or mumbling Wheeljack was the cybertronian script on the screen.

The Iacon Database.

Their little trick with the virus in Lazerbeak had worked! The success offsetted the ethical complication of their earlier actions.

"Rafael, you are a genius!" Ratchet exclaimed and the young boy beamed bashfully. Nearby, Fowler turned around and snapped at them both. "Will you keep it down?"

That drew the before silent Breakdown's attention.

"Hey-" he stepped from the wall and looked closely at the human agent. "You're the communication hub for Knock Out, right? Where is he? What's wrong?"

Fowler frowned at the inflow of questions.

"He's not in combat, if that's what you're panicking about, but they're both in danger. The relic was some stuff called Tox-En."

Ratchet felt his spark sink.

Poison. Incredibly dangerous poison. If Bulkhead and Knock Out were exposed to it, then he would need to detox them both and the medbay was cramped enough with Wheeljack currently in it.

Muffled words came from Fowler's comm and he turned back to it to listen. Then the agent was spinning around again.

"Raf, open the bridge! Now!" he yelled and the boy moved to do so immediately.

When the vortex opened, Breakdown broke off of the rest and ran through.

Only a few short clicks later and he was returning, helping a wavering Bulkhead, who, in turn, was just about carrying a blurry-opticed Knock Out.

It occured to Ratchet later that this moment had been the first time he had personally seen Breakdown help Bulkhead out.

But in the moment itself, he was a bit preoccupied with rushing the group to the detox chambers to notice.

The medbay may have been cramped, but at least Breakdown proved to be a surprisingly competent assistant in the necessary medical procedures.

Getting away from Prime had been Breakdown's first action upon returning.

That left him to sit with only the company of the tiny human youngling and the alien with a voice he swore he recognized.

Luckily, neither talked to him. Which was lucky because Breakdown had no idea what to say to either. He wasn't exactly a big fan of humans.

Or hadn't been since the M.E.C.H. abduction.

The next team to return was the old medic's. And as he and the child celebrated, the familiar sounding human spun around to snap at them.

The tension in his voice made Breakdown worried.

It made him worried for Knock Out's safety.

Not for the first time that cycle, the blue mech stressed over the fact that his partner was alone with his rival. What if Bulkhad had hurt Knock Out to enact revenge on Breakdown himself?

The worry, as unlikely as it seemed as of late, was a reoccuring one.

So when he ran through the bridge and saw the green mech hunched over his partner, Breakdown panicked.

It took a moment to realize what he was seeing.

Bulk wasn't attacking Knock Out. He was helping him.

He thought of a tunnel in a mountain. Of a one-liner that seemed to hint at his own helpless death coming before those black servos tore his restraints off the train track.

Neither incident had been believable. But it didn't make them any less real.

"I don't believe it either", Bulk had said.

As he had done then (at least before Starscream had ordered him to attack his unlikely savior), Breakdown felt the need to repay the favor. He moved forward over the volcanic ground and wordlessly tried to help them both forward towards the groundbridge.

It wasn't easy. Together, the wrecker and the doctor were painfully heavy. The Tox-En made them too weak to really support their own weight.

The slag. Breakdown had always detested the toxic weapon. There was nothing fun about fighting from a distance and letting poison do your dirty work.

And the clean up was a pain.

But after a while, Ratchet had distractedly dismissed him from helping and Breakdown had wandered away from the detox containers.

The last team, the mute scout and two-wheeler, had returned by now. An unfamiliar red car was also parked on the driveway that led to the outside.

It seemed to belong to that human nurse.

Breakdown watched her lecturing Fowler with amusement. The scene was entertaining enough for him to step near and listen.

"-got to go to Washington!"

"Not on my watch-" June jabbed a finger at the larger human. "First, you need a check up. That little fall you had could have given you a concussion!"

Oh, right. The fall that had made the human be trapped on a tiny berth spouting delirious nonsense.

"I'm fine," Fowler protested.

The protest cut off with a yelp when a large finger nudged the catwalk they both stood on. Breakdown chuckled, both at how shocked they both looked from his interruption and at the scenario in general.

"Listen to your nurse, little man," he grinned. "You gotta follow the professional's orders."

Fowler recovered slowly from the surprise and then finally followed June's pointed finger to the tiny berth once more, grumbling all the way about how he was needed in 'Washington'.

Before she followed, June looked up and winked at him. He couldn't return the gesture with one optic, but she didn't seem to notice.

Huh.

Guess being stuck with fleshies was bearable. They weren't less intelligent or sentient than his own species; in fact, they were shockingly cybertronian in many ways.

Even the ones who had cut him up unremorsefully seemed right at home among the doctors of the decepticons.

AN- Vitrolof was one of the 'stage-names' of a M.E.C.H. officer mentioned at the end of chapter 11.