The courtroom looks surprisingly like every other courtroom I've ever been in. The benches. The set-up. The raised dais with a set of judges' benches – five here, which is one of the few differences from other courtrooms I've been in.

Well, that and the fact that everything's scaled for Cybertronians. The dais is raised much higher than usual. It must be second floor level at least.

The seats to the judges' left are scaled for aliens as well. And the Alliance members I met on Cybertron are already sitting there. I want to growl just looking at them.

"Patience," Groove murmurs. "Easy, Belle. We'll defeat them."

I'm so glad he's here.

We find our seats quickly. Everyone's here – myself and Groove, Ratchet, Skyfire, Starscream's trine and Reflector all in the front row, everyone else behind us. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are directly behind me, which is comforting, especially when Sideswipe puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes.

I'm too nervous to catch much of what's said as the judges file in and are introduced. Or the opening statements. The Alliance's lawyer is a skinny little man that reminds me of Swindle for some reason, but he's probably good at what he does. Rachel seems to treat him with respect. Then again, she treats everyone with respect.

Optimus is the first one in the fire. Which lets me off the hook, since I'm not witnessing for him. I wasn't there for much of the war, I can't tell who was doing what or why. And my brain's too wired to catch much of the questioning. I only catch parts now and then, usually surprised that whoever's on the stand is not who was there last time I focused.

"Yes, I remember that," Kup says. "I was part of Prime's unit then. Megatron had ordered an attack on the outpost, though there was nothing there really. A handful of soldiers defending a barely-flowing energon source and a youngling center. No strategic value." He looks directly at the judges. "Megatron's seekers bombed the place to smithereens."

"No, I wouldn't say that at all," Sideswipe says. "Yeah, we're always going to be sent in to battle, and yeah, it got worse the longer into the war we got. But I've never been stationed anywhere specifically to attack civilian dwellings. Even ones in areas under Decepticon control." He shrugs. "Now, did the Decepticons attack some places because the Autobots were already there? Maybe. I can't answer that. But I can sure as Pit tell you that I've never gone out of my way to attack defenseless civilians. To slaughter younglings and sparklings. No matter what mark their neighbors wore on their plating."

"I grew up with the war." Hot Rod looks nervous. "I've never known anything else. I was an orphan before the Autobots took me in. I was young, but I remember. I remember being glad it was them." He frowns, looking much older suddenly. "I remember that one of the other younglings I was hiding with was found by Decepticons and torn apart for sport. You don't forget something like that."

"Would you say that the Decepticons are mad, then?" the Alliance lawyer asks. He sounds neutral, professional, but there's something smug about the way he bears himself.

Hot Rod apparently notices it too. "The Decepticon soldiers, you mean? No, I wouldn't say that. I mean, we're living with them now, building peace. We wouldn't do that if they were all fragged in the head. But consider this." His optics are sharp, now, no trace of his earlier nerves. "What kind of command turns a blind optic to its own soldiers committing that kind of atrocities? What kind of command actually endorses that kind of act?" He leans back in the seat and snorts. "Not my commanders, that's for sure. I've never been in doubt that I picked the right side."

Reflector takes the stand all together. I guess it would be pointless to interview them individually.

"We have archival footage from the early days," Viewfinder says. "It's conclusive. Megatron was the first to employ what you humans call acts of terror."

"In response to something the Autobots did?" the prosecutor presses.

"Not really," Spectro says. "Not unless you mean that it was a response to nothing going the way Megatron wanted."

"The Autobots were holding their ground," Spyglass takes over. I can't tell their voices apart, they're so similar. "And Megatron needed the Council gone, and the Prime defeated. That's why he bombed the square. And the youngling sectors."

"I was part of the raid on Praxus," Thundercracker explains. "I wasn't part of Megatron's leading council, but I heard things. Praxus wasn't a big Autobot outpost. It was a neutral city. It had an Autobot garrison – most cities did, back then – but it wasn't Autobot any more than it was Decepticon. Plus, it was far from Decepticon territory. There was no reason to take it, really. But Megatron didn't want to take it. He wanted to raze it. He said Praxus was retaliation for Vos," I can see from here how he tenses at those words, "but the Autobots didn't destroy Vos. That was the Senate. And the Senate was long gone by then." He's looking right at Bluestreak. "Praxus didn't deserve to die."


It's been a long day. I think Optimus himself will be on the stand tomorrow. And Ratchet. Rachel's been focusing on history today, and Ratchet's too close to Optimus for anyone to consider him impartial on that front.

It looks like they'll use another few days on Optimus. Rachel warned us that she's calling more witnesses than she'd intended. We already knew that, considering that neither Hot Rod or Kup were supposed to witness, but I think they did good. Everyone did good.

We're all emotionally exhausted, though. Which is why I'm curled up in Groove's arms, in our berth, trying to ignore that the world around us exists. And why I'm fairly certain that everyone else is doing the same. Tonight, we're trusting Jack and Dominic to keep us safe.

I don't say anything. Neither does Groove. We just lie there, curled up together, his hand stroking up and down my back. It's soothing.

After a while, I shift in his arms. Align myself more fully with his chest.

It takes one glance for both of our chest plates to crack open. And I lose myself in the reassurance and love that I always find in Groove and First Aid.


The second day is no easier than the first. And I still can't manage to focus much.

"We never feared Prime," Astrotrain says. "Not outside of battle, anyway, and even there, Megatron tended to keep him occupied. We didn't want to get captured – what soldier does? But we didn't fear being captured. We knew we'd be interrogated, but we also knew we'd be kept for ransom. And while we were waiting, our injuries would be repaired, we'd be safe in our cells, we'd be – well, not cared for, exactly, but kept safe. That's more than I can say for any Autobots who stumbled their way into our clutches."

Soundwave can't testify for Optimus, apparently, since he's also under charges. But no charges have been brought against his cassettes.

"Sure, we snuck into the Autobot bases," Frenzy says. "Just as often as they snuck into ours, I guess."

"And did you ever spy on the Autobot command meetings?" Rachel asks.

"The others did, more than me and Rumble," Frenzy replies. "We heard what they heard, though. Prime held back. Prowl – he ain't here, he's the Prime's second-in-command – he was always pushin' for more decisive solutions, for more lethal power. But Prime never authorized it. He got even more reluctant as the war progressed."

"Do you know why?"

"I have a recording." Frenzy pauses a moment, and then Optimus' voice fills the courtroom. It's tinny and clearly old.

"… may be talked around, Jazz. I can't in good conscience authorize lethal force on mecha who want a return to the old ways as little as we do. We'll defend. Nothing more."

It's kind of decisive. And Rachel's clearly pleased with it.

The opposition, not so much.

"So you're saying that Prime willfully prolonged the war, when he could have ended it earlier," their lawyer says, pinpointing Rumble with the kind of stare I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of.

Rumble just shrugs. The cassette is tougher than me. "Honestly? Yeah, probably. But Megatron could too, if he'd bothered actually thinking about it."

"How so?"

"He was too fraggin' busy pissing off Prime to actually be effective." Rumble's almost sneering. "He kept attacking civilian bases that he knew would draw Prime out, causing collateral damage just for the pit of it. He never brought enough firepower to actually defeat the Autobots towards the end, so we had to keep retreating, kept getting pummeled. Which led to us needing more energon for repairs, which led to us attacking civilians again, which led to Megatron causing collateral damage to draw out Prime…" He grins. "I trust ya see where this is going."

"The amount of time Starscream came back beaten to within an inch of frame collapse, just because he'd dared to argue against Megatron's wilder ideas," Skywarp says.

The lawyer frowns. "I'll remind you that Starscream is not the subject of discussion. Yet."

"Oh, I know." Skywarp snorts. "But you need to understand that Starscream kept talking at Megatron to get him to change. Soundwave did, too. Onslaught. Scrapper. The lot of them. Just like Prowl and Jazz and Ironhide kept trying to get Prime to be more decisive. But Prime wasn't the one dragging things out by attacking civilian outposts and alien worlds. Prime wasn't the one raiding inhabited planets for resources, cyberforming entire planets that showed promise of life, killing anyone who wouldn't give him what he wanted." His optics are sharp as they bore into the lawyer's eyes. "That was all Megatron."

"Megatron saw us as dumb brutes." Blitzwing sounds bitter. "We're big, we subspace a lot of mass, we need a lot of fuel. He kept us on minimum reserves and used us as blunt force instruments. Astrotrain and me, we were starving for millennia. When peace came, I still had unhealed injuries I'd sustained centuries before." He glares at the Alliance. "You want someone to blame for the war? Blame the sick fragger who refused to see sense for over two million of your years. And be grateful there was someone there to fight back."

Ratchet is downright baleful, and if looks could kill, every Alliance representative would be dead on the spot. "I've seen what happens to the ones who stand up to Megatron. And I don't mean just Autobots. Pit, Autobots had it easier. We were never in danger from our own command. I don't blame anyone for not being able to harness Megatron's insanity."

"You've been at Prime's side since the beginning." Rachel's voice is soft, coaxing. "What changed?"

"For Optimus?" Ratchet snorts. "Not much. He's always been too kind for his own good. That's why we followed him. That's why we kept following him, even as Cybertron turned to ashes around us and we were as likely to die from starvation as we were from battle. That's why we rallied to every call to arms, even when we were still scarred from the previous battle. Because we knew what he stood for. What he still stands for. For Megatron…" He sighs. "I'm a medic. I've seen a lot of damage during four million years. I've had Megatron in my medbay a few times in that time too, and each time, he's been more erratic. Harder to handle. Stronger firewalls, more defenses, less likely to cooperate. Could we have ended the war sooner? Your guess is as good as mine." He nods towards the separate bench where Optimus is sitting. "But I know who was the driving force behind it, and it wasn't Optimus Prime."


Dear diary,

Tomorrow, Rachel says, Optimus will take the stand. After that, they'll shift focus to Starscream. Soundwave will be last. Which means after tomorrow, we're hopefully a third of the way done.

There was some talk of taking a break for a day between defendants. But no one wanted that. We all just want to get this over with and go home. The evenings are bad enough – we're all exhausted from a day of trial, none of us have the energy to do more than the bare minimum. Even those of us who do nothing but watch all day are drained. I dread to think of how Ratchet and Optimus are doing. Just like yesterday, they headed straight for their quarters the moment we came back to our hangar and haven't emerged yet.

I'm tempted to follow their example. But I can't quite relax yet. I don't think I'll be able to fully relax until this is over and we're back on Cybertron, where we belong.


I snuggle closer to Groove, as much as that's possible. We're already as close together as we can get. Behind me, Sunstreaker's pasted to my back, Sideswipe next to him. Streetwise is behind Groove, with Hot Rod somehow across all of us.

Ours isn't the only cuddle-pile. I know the seekers have dragged Soundwave and Bluestreak into one as well, under Cliffjumper's ever-watchful optics. There's a Technobot pile somewhere. And the shuttles have hidden themselves away in one of the bigger rooms.

No one wants to be alone.

"Does your spark still ache?" I'm so close I barely have to whisper.

"Not badly. It helps to be close to you, weirdly enough." He smiles. "Guess First Aid really must be pushing at me to make that happen."

"Guess so." I press a kiss to the closest bit of him, which turns out to be his cheek. "Groove, I'm so glad you're here. I'm not sure I would be upright without you."

He nuzzles me. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

Across my legs, Hot Rod's vents have evened out. He's deep in recharge. We're not going anywhere tonight. Good thing we had the foresight to put our berth pads on the floor. In this pileup, I won't get cold either. Not with a pair of frontliners at my back.

"Still think we'll be okay?"

Groove chuckles, softly enough that I feel it more than I hear it. Streetwise's arm snakes over his waist to pat mine. "Don't worry. Rachel's got this."

I sure hope so.

Behind me, Sunstreaker shifts. His hand pats my hip, and I lift mine to meet it.

We go into recharge like that – Groove holding me, Streetwise's hand on my waist, Sunstreaker's hand warm in mine.


"State your name, please."

"Optimus Prime."

Rachel paces back and forth in front of the stand. "You've heard what the others have said. You've heard the charges against you. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty." Optimus frowns behind his mask. "I plead not guilty."

I watch. It's all I can do.

"A Prime is a religious leader," Optimus explains. "At least at the core. My latest predecessors were mere puppets for the Senate. The ones before them, puppet-masters. There haven't been a true Prime, a true leader of the people, in ages. When the Matrix came to me, I'd hoped to change that. Be a voice of the people." His optics dim. "Of course, Megatron willed it differently."

"How so?"

"Megatron was rebelling even before I was chosen. His attack on the energon docks where I worked as a dockhand were what caused me to become Prime in the first place. And after that happened, when he learned the Matrix had been found and there was a Prime once again, he was… irate. The attack on the Senate came soon after."

Rachel nods. "And the attacks on civilians?"

Optimus visibly hesitates. "The first attack on Iacon square was came in my first half-vorn as Prime."

"A vorn is like a year to you, correct?"

"Yes."

"You were a dock worker," Rachel says slowly. "What kind of training did you receive when you got the Primacy?"

Optimus chuckles, but there's no humor in it. "I was thrust into a leadership role over a disintegrating guard, fighting against rebels who showed no mercy and kept nothing sacred, on a planet that was starving to death beneath me. There was no training. We learned, or we died. I had some innate leadership skills, and a sense of right and wrong. I think that was why the Matrix picked me. Everything else, I learned by doing."

I can't focus. The early days of the war are almost abstract to me, so long ago that humanity had barely started walking upright. But I have to look alert for this.

So I watch Ratchet. His optics locked on Optimus. He's wearing an expression I know very well, the one that's meant to look outwardly confident and secure and usually hides fear. I don't blame him.

I watch Starscream and Soundwave, still on their defendant's benches. Soundwave is calm, apparently. He always looks calm, but I get the feeling he really is calm now. He's got his cassettes docked, which is apparently reassuring.

Starscream looks bored. It's a mask he's developed to perfection.

"Megatron kept attacking," Optimus says. "I had to keep defending. Even when he took the fight to the stars, following us as we fled. We had to stand against him. No one else was."

"Your planet was torn apart by civil war." Rachel sounds like she's narrating a story. "And there was no one else who could help?"

Optimus smiles wryly. "Cybertronians have never been popular in the galaxy."

"The Intergalactic Alliance?"

"Shunned us. We were blacklisted early on in the war. They would not get involved in something they saw as a domestic dispute."

"And when it spilled over into the rest of the galaxy? Beyond?"

"We never saw bolt or plating of anyone else unless they were fleeing us." Optimus is almost growling. "Any assistance had to be bought at blood-prices. Any resources bartered for at gunpoint. Meanwhile, the Decepticons took what they needed, killed who they didn't, and laid more devastation on the universe than anyone else ever have. I – we. We did our best to be in their way, and we often succeeded. But we couldn't save everyone."

I can tell the Alliance aliens don't like that much. Even one of the judges are frowning.

Ratchet, though, he's suppressing a wicked grin.

I lose track again as Optimus goes on about the war. Specific raids I've never heard about. Planets, whole solar systems I've never heard about, for that matter.

I lean against Groove's shoulder, absorbing his heat. His hand tightens around mine.

"Tell us, Optimus," Rachel says, tone soft. "How did the war end?"

I know they've been briefed on this. Ultra Magnus and Prowl put together an information packet that should have everything they needed to know. Rachel must have another angle.

There's a beat of silence. Optimus' optics meet Ratchet's, Starscream's, mine.

"The war ended here, on Earth," he begins. "We were based in California at the time. There had been a few minor run-ins with the Decepticons, but all in all it had been quiet. Until Megatron was dropped in pieces literally on our doorstep."

He goes on to explain every detail of that night – minus the parts that pertain to me – and I'm impressed again at the way Cybertronian memories work. It's like Optimus just has to call them up and they're there, every detail clear as crystal.

"As the truce was reached, all the Decepticons came to stay on base with us." He smiles briefly at Soundwave. "Ratchet was busy for days, getting them functional again. There were years, centuries of neglect to work through. We made a plan to retake Cybertron, which we managed."

"And now?" Rachel prompts as he falls silent again.

"Now we're rebuilding." The smile is broader now. "We're healing. Bonding. There are barely any trace of the old factions. As you can see, none of us bear our faction symbols anymore."

"Would you say there's no chance at all of returning to civil war?"

"You can never say that there will not be another war. You know that as well as I." There's mild chastisement in his tone. "But a return to the way things were? No. No, there won't be."

"How can you be so sure?" Rachel wants to know, and I'm sure the critical cast to her face is a mask.

Optimus just chuckles. He's not that easy to rile up. "Because we're rebuilding together. Because it's been nearly two hundred years since the last time there was a conflict between faction members. Because a member of the Decepticon command trine recently bonded an Autobot sniper. Because we're forming cross-faction friendships and relationships all over the place, and are coming together in a true community." His optics soften. "Because we're becoming families again."

"The first sparkling – infant – was just born to your race in over four million of our years, was it not?"

I didn't know he'd told her that. Though I don't expect them knowing about Level will make one iota of difference, one way or the other. He's safe back on Cybertron.

"Yes. And there are more on the way. I know of one other Autobot sparkling on the way, as well as one Decepticon sparkling and two Neutral sparklings." He smiles again. "None of us would jeopardize that."

Wow. That's a lot more sparklings than I knew of. I can't help wondering who he's talking about.

Wait. One other Autobot sparkling?

Rachel apparently picked up on the same thing as me. Either that, or they've rehearsed this whole thing. It's distinctly possible.

"One other Autobot sparkling?" Rachel grins, suddenly looking a lot more like a gossiping study mate than a professional lawyer. "Optimus, are you and Ratchet part of this statistic?"

"Yes." He's beaming now, proud carrier that he is. "Our first sparkling is due in three-quarter vorn. About seventy-five of your years. He will most likely be the fourth sparkling born on Cybertron since we found peace."

"Congratulations." Rachel isn't the only one smiling. Two of the judges have small smiles on their faces as well. "I suppose that does give you an extra incentive to keep peace going."

"Peace doesn't depend on me. It depends on all of us." His optics sweep the room. "And I think we've finally gotten there."


Hot Rod whoops as we all pour back into the hangar. "Yes! Did you see their faces? The Alliance slaggers can eat my exhaust!"

Sideswipe sniggers. "Cool your jets, brat. We haven't won yet."

"And we can't take anything for granted." For all that the words are cautious, Optimus is smiling.

I look way up at him. "Four other sparklings, huh? Whose?"

His optics narrow mischievously. Not a look I've seen a lot on Optimus Prime's face, but it's a good look for him. "Not my secrets to tell, dearspark. You'll have to wait and see, just like everyone else."

I pout. It has no effect.

Groove reins me in and kisses my cheek. "Good things come to those who wait, right?"

"They'd better." I twist in his arms so I can kiss him back. "And now we're a third of the way through."

"A third of the way through, and I'm starting with you tomorrow." Rachel pats my leg as she walks past. "So you'd better prepare, Cynns."

I hate that Hot Rod's nick name for me's caught on. But I won't be able to win that fight, however hard I try.

"I'm prepared. I've got everything I need." I look around until I find Starscream at the back of the room, leaning against the wall with Cliffjumper at his side. "It's Starscream first, right?"

"Correct." She follows my gaze. "I don't think we'll need to go into quite as much detail. We did touch on a lot of it today."

Optimus drops onto the closest shipping container. "We did. And I'm glad to be done with the worst of my part." He looks at Soundwave. "Are you okay? And you, Star?"

"Functional," Soundwave replies. Thundercracker pulls him closer, rests his chin on Soundwave's shoulder. "Difficulties: expected. Dreaded. But necessary." He turns his head just enough to nuzzle Thundercracker's cheek, and I know I'm not the only one who's staring. Soundwave is not prone to public displays of affection. Either he's relaxing finally, or this entire situation is more stressful for him than we'd realized.

I'm glad he has Thundercracker.

"I'll be fine." Starscream sounds dismissive, looks it too as he waves the question away. I can see it's an act, though. "Just a few more days, right?"

"Should be," Rachel confirms. "If I do my job right. And I always do." She salutes sloppily and spins on her heel, walking back towards the door. "Enjoy your evening, people. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow."

I look up at Groove. He's so frigging gorgeous, smiling at me. "Enjoy our evening?"

"I can come up with a suggestion or two," he murmurs into my audial. "If you're available."

"For you? Always."

I ignore the catcalls and the way Sideswipe is winking at me as we walk past him. We're not the only couple who'll be retreating soon.

I think we'll notice how thin the walls are tonight.