Steam floated up from the sink and covered the mirror in a thin film, obscuring its reflective surface. Small droplets formed and travelled in an erratic downward pattern, picking up speed as they went, and finally falling off the mirror's edge to land on the counter Alexandria braced herself against. She swiped a hand across the glass, revealing a pale face set against dark puffy eyes. The last few nights hadn't been too kind and left her feeling even more drained than when she had gone to bed. One finger gently poked just below her lower lids and she wondered again if what she was doing was a good idea.

"Alexandria, you've been running that sink for the past ten minutes!" her mother called out from downstairs. "Hydro isn't cheap!"

"Sorry!" Alexandria hastily turned off the tap, wiping up splattered water that dotted the surfaces.

"And get to bed, young lady, tomorrow's a school day!"

Alexandria refrained from replying, knowing her mom wouldn't appreciate the sarcastic undertone that was more frequent in her voice when she was tired.

Several plastic pill bottles lined up neatly on the counter's ceramic surface; each containing cures—nausea inducing, mouth drying, overly sedating cures. She selected the last two and tapped out a single tablet from each onto her palm. It was hard to believe how something so tiny could have such an impact on her life. She gripped them tightly as her other hand slid into the sleeve of her pajamas to feel the scarring along the inside of her forearm. Tiny patterns decorated her skin with their thin white lines, beginning at her wrist and ending just shy of her elbow. Lichtenberg figures, her doctors had called them; common in lightning strike victims and apparently only temporary, however hers had yet to show any sign of fading. Alexandria traced one of the intricate curves with her finger, feeling the raised flesh and she shuddered. Her hand wrapped around her forearm as painful memories surfaced, ones she didn't wish to relive. Her grip tightened briefly, the pressure helping to counter an overactive mind, bringing her back to the present. The skin was blanched when she removed her hand and she gave her arm a quick shake, making sure not to accidentally toss the pills she still held about the washroom.

The medication ended up on the bedside table, joining a cup of water, and she flopped down on top of the bedcovers with a random school book. It wasn't long until she heard her mom ascend the stairs to lightly rap at the bedroom door.

"Yeah?" Alexandria flipped to a random page, trying to look somewhat interested in the content.

Her mother came in and surveyed the room as she did on a nightly basis, tsk-ing softly at the piles of laundry strewn about the floor. They disappeared into the hamper and Mary pointed at several stacked boxes in the corner.

"I see you're making progress in unpacking. You're down to what, four boxes instead of five this month?"

Alexandria shrugged. "It's all stuff I don't use a lot. I'll just have to pack it up when we move again anyway, so what's the point?"

Mary sighed and sat down on the end of the bed. The lines between her brows appeared deeper than Alexandria remembered and her clothing a bit more creased.

"Honey, I know you've had to put up with a lot but I'm trying. I really am."

The strain in her mom's voice cut into Alexandria and she bowed her head. She could feel her lower lip tremble and the prickling of tears. It was always a raw moment whenever they touched on the incident. Every difficulty, every hard choice always came back to Alexandria feeling as if she were the cause. She had veered off path, gone where she wasn't supposed to go and touched something she shouldn't have, starting a chain reaction that didn't seem to have an end.

"I'm sorry," Alexandria mumbled. "I'll put them away."

Mary gave her an encouraging smile. "We'll have this place feeling like home. It'll get better, I promise."

The squeeze to Alexandria's leg was meant to be reassuring but faltered just shy of its intended effect. Mary stood and pressed a goodnight kiss to her brow.

"Don't forget to take your pills," she reminded her.

"I will. I'm almost done reading."

Another smile and Alexandria's bedroom door shut followed by the retreating sound of footsteps.

Alexandria sat in silence for a few moments ensuring she wasn't going to be disturbed again tonight. There came a far away clinking of dishes and running water and she relaxed. Her mother had been right to promise that things would get better, just maybe not in the way neither her nor Dr. Benson would have chosen.

Carefully and quietly Alexandria leaned over her bed to feel along the underside of the frame. Her fingers came into contact with thin plastic and she pulled out a small ziploc bag; the contents of which remained intact and undiscovered. The pills from the nightstand joined their duplicates in the bag and it was resealed with care and returned to its hiding place. The voices, although never fully eradicated, had become muffled and distant with the medication her psychiatrist prescribed but once Alexandria stopped taking them over the past week, the effects had reversed and the voices were even clearer than they had been before. Every night after falling asleep she would awaken within her dreams of sound and there she would concentrate and focus on each voice, attempting to decipher the cryptic messages they spoke. If she knew what they were, she could figure out how to stop them.

Alexandria drank the cup of water to maintain the deception and snuggled under her covers once she'd plunged the room into darkness.

Tonight would bring her one step closer to understanding. One step closer to becoming normal again.

0-0-0-0-0

The navigational chart hovered in the air, consisting of thousands of glittering lights. Each light was a representation of a star and its collection of planets, all of which could be a potential resting place of the AllSpark. Retrieving the artifact always seemed an immense task to Bumblebee, especially when viewing the galaxy from this perspective. It was further complicated by the fact the chart wasn't even fully complete; only sections of space that had been mapped by other Cybertronians—Seekers mainly—showed within the three dimensional holo, while unexplored areas were represented by empty voids. It was difficult and time consuming enough to search the known sectors but uncharted space brought severe repercussions if not trodden lightly. Black holes, unstable stars, wormhole fields, and aggressive alien lifeforms tended to be the most frequently encountered forces leading to Cybertronian disappearance and loss of life amid the stars. The worst were those that followed the survivors home.

Bumblebee recalled the mass hysteria that a single wayward ship had caused when it had been found drifting at the border of Cybertronian space. A mining barge had come across the personal space cruiser after responding to faint traces of spark energy onboard. Unknown to the barge's crew, a dormant parasitic creature had burrowed within the cruiser's unfortunate pilot; reactivating itself once in proximity to its food source. It hadn't taken long for the crew to become compromised by the vicious and rapidly replicating scraplets and, in panic, one bot set the barge on a course for Cybertron at maximum drive. The destruction the scraplets wrought when the ship crash landed had been severe enough to cause a momentary peace between Autobots and Decepticons; one of only two times in recorded history since the Great War's beginning.

Bee's digits slid across the console and the star chart rotated and enhanced the section of space that had been logged as the cruiser's prior destination before returning to Cybertron. It was enclosed by a vivid red sphere indicating it as strictly off limits. A shudder ran through his circuits. He had been offworld at the time but had seen enough holos of the scraplets and their hunger for living metal to instill a deep sense of fear into his spark. Being consumed from the inside out was something he never wanted to experience. Primus help them if the AllSpark had ended up on the scraplet homeworld or worse. Aside from the thousands upon thousands of star systems in their own galaxy, there were neighboring galaxies as well as the dark space between them.

That was the problem with wormholes; you never knew where one would spit you out.

It had been both blessing and curse when the AllSpark was lost to the wormhole that was in proximity to Hectate; one of Cybertron's satellites. There were only certain times during the orbital cycle when the wormhole connected to a finite number of known destinations and those exit points had been under Autobot control ever since Optimus first proposed sending the AllSpark off world. The wormhole had taken it out of Decepticon reach as planned however, due to a surprise attack by Megatron close to the hidden location of the AllSpark it had been launched prematurely, thus effectively rendering it to the whim of the spacetime continuum.

Bee leaned forward, letting his helm strike the console with a loud thump. At least Optimus had been confident that the AllSpark was still within their own universe. Not that it had given him much reassurance.

The console beeped angrily at him and he shifted off the controls to lean against one hand. He tapped a few commands in, zooming in on a sector with several pulsing green lights. Ironhide was fairly close to their current location and yet it had been awhile since his last transmission.

"Teletraan 1 to Big Bot. Respond Big Bot," Bee said over the inter-frequency, using the Ark's transmitters to amplify his range.

The message he sent went unanswered. Bee hummed and tried again.

"Teletraan 1 to Big Bot. Overclocking not advised Big Bot."

"Big Bot to Teletraan 1. It would take a lot more than a hunk of abandoned rock to achieve that, Scout."

He trilled, hearing the gravelly voice of the weapons specialist. "Glad to know you're still functioning, Hide. Started to think you ran into some Cons. Or were just ignoring me on purpose."

"Sorry 'bout that, Bee. The weather on this planet is scrap. You caught me at a good time actually," Ironhide replied. Static followed, affirming the complaint. "—ergon lines. Not much else."

Bee frowned. "Need you to repeat that. Part was cut off."

Silence answered and it began to stretch on as the moments passed. Bee ran through his normal routine; signal strength was tested and tweaked with minute precision and rough details added into the database ensuring the planet would be flagged for known communication disruptions. The chronometer for Ironhide's location was reset and similar messages were sent to the other Autobots in the nearby sectors. A reply wasn't expected though, as they all were beyond the limitations of inter-frequencies. At most they would know the Ark was in the area and would respond to a distress signal. He leaned back in his seat and waited as there wasn't much else he could do to improve the connection.

"—of a glitch, fraggin' useless excuse for a planet. Scrap metal junk in my aft—"

"Welcome back." Bee laughed at the cursing mech. "Should I include that in your report to Optimus?"

"Better mind your superiors or I'll make you manually scrub the filters the moment I get back there."

Bee whirred and shook his head at the jest. "That seems both impractical and inefficient," he countered.

"Builds character."

An overly dramatic groan came from his auditory transmitters at the paternal remark. Having heard it throughout his whole life Bee felt he had done enough character building for an entire fleet, much less one lone mech.

"Anyway, all I've found here are a few raw energon veins. Nothing substantial though." Ironhide continued.

Bee's finger tapped several times against the console's smooth surface. "Bit strange considering the strength of the readings we picked up." The Ark's scanners were some of the best technology Cybertron had to offer; he highly doubted they had been feeding the crew false data. "What about structural causes?"

"Any inhabitants are long gone. I've come across a few ruins but they're so weather damaged they're little more than foundation. No, what we picked up is definitely alien to this world."

"We could have been misled," Bee suggested.

"I've thought the same." There was momentary pause as Ironhide considered his options. "I'll continue my search. No point in sending my aft across space if I start backing out of missions because of a challenge."

"And if it's Cons?" Bee asked.

"Then they'll join the ruins."

If only confidence guaranteed success there'd be no need for worry on Bee's part.

"Stay safe out there, Big Bot," Bee said, hoping Primus did indeed keep watch over Cybertron's children from time to time.

"You too. Ironhide out."

The transmission was cut and Bee was alone again with the console. There was a brief pang within his spark at the thought of the gruff Autobot's prolonged absence. It had been some time since Ironhide had left the relative safety of the Ark and it would be nice to once again have a conversation between them that didn't involve the use of signal augmentation or stasis.

He watched the green lights, each a representation of a friend amid the stars. Ironhide, Arcee, Mirage, Prowl, Sunstreaker, and Cliffjumper. His optics moved from one light to the next matching them to their associated name and face. All experienced and formidable opponents on the battlefield and yet so isolated and vulnerable when viewed from his position; so very scattered and distant.

"Hey Bee!"

He jumped at the sudden, loud and excited voice of Jazz over the inter-frequency. His head tilted slightly, wondering what riled up the other mech. He sent a tone through the connection letting Jazz know he was paying attention.

"By Primus if you thought what we saw with Ratchet was interesting, you gotta see what Jackie and I pulled out of this ship the organics were using." Jazz said.

"What did you find?" Bee's voice held a tense quality to it that Jazz picked up on immediately.

"Relax Half-Pint. It's not the exact location to the AllSpark or anything. Don't go getting your hopes up prematurely."

Bee's expectations fizzled back into non-existence. He really should be used to disappointment by now considering how often it occurred.

His digits drummed against his leg. "So what did you find, if not the AllSpark?"

"Well, a lot actually." Jazz replied. "First and probably the most important is that this ship has definitely been designed using Cybertronian tech, specifically..."—he paused a moment, his next words emphasized by a low serious tone—"Decepticon tech."

Bee blinked at the not-so-impressive reveal. The Cons were just as spread across the systems as they were in their own search for the AllSpark, so the chance of these organics encountering one wasn't too improbable. How they managed to create a ship using Con tech was another feat as Decepticons weren't known to be forthcoming with information outside of their own faction; much less their own species. It was highly plausible the Con had been subdued or even scrapped when the organics began their work.

He mulled the information over, wondering what could have triggered Jazz's excitement over the alien craft. Regardless of intention or impact, a lone Con was barely more than trivial in the grand scheme of things; hardly huge news that the organic's ship had been designed using one's tech. There were exceptions to this however; several high ranking priority targets that always warranted investigation. Starscream, Shockwave, Blacko—.

An icy chill shot up his backstrut as one name came to mind in particular. A name belonging to a Decepticon that had been as lost as the AllSpark after following it through the wormhole. One whose madness and ferocity had plunged Cybertron into darkness in an attempt to gain absolute domination over their race.

"Megatron." Bee growled, the name leaving a bitter ache as his digits involuntarily grazed over his throat.

"Mm-hmm," Jazz confirmed. "The signature within their technology is faint but Wheeljack is positive it's his. And since Megatron follows the AllSpark—"

"The AllSpark could be within the organic's system." Bee ended.

"Perhaps. Or at the very least passed through it or nearby." Jazz agreed. "Either way it gives us a direction in which to focus our efforts."

"That's more than anything we've had recently." Bee said as his optics travelled over the star chart again. "And if Megatron is on the organic's world it would be worth the time lost to go there and finish him. Cut the head off the Decepticon force."

"You make it sound as if that'd be a simple task." Jazz all but laughed. "Taking on Megatron. We'd need an army considering the state we're currently in."

"Optimus only has to give the word and everyone would return. We'd have—"

"—still only a handful of us." Jazz interrupted. "Up against one of the best, if not the greatest, Cybertronian tacticians of all time."

"Never knew you to back down from a fight before."

"I'm not. I just think we need to go about this the smart way. There's a lot of risk putting him ahead of our search for the AllSpark, especially since we aren't even sure they're in the same area. We don't want to give the other Cons an advantage by going in and attacking Megatron blindly."

Bee's foot scuffed against the metal floor panels as he remained silent. To be so close but still so far in everything they did was infuriating at the best of times.

"Look Bee… I can tell you right now you aren't the only bot that wants to see Megatron offlined for what he's done. He's a monster and his end will come. Trust me."

"I know," Bee replied quietly.

"Hey, I didn't even tell you about the humans." Jazz's tone brightened considerably, hoping to improve the mood of his young friend.

Bee's antennae lifted slightly at the unfamiliar word. "Humans?"

"The organics. That's what they call themselves. Their ship is one giant information capsule about their homeworld, which Wheeljack pinpointed to somewhere within the Orion spur. The files are being formatted and uploaded to the database as we speak."

"What's the purpose of the information?"

"Not sure, Half-Pint. Considering the technology they use is quite primitive, Ol' Jackie thinks it might be a greeting of some sorts. Their way of saying Bah-weep-Graaaaagnah wheep ni ni bong I suppose."

Bee shook his head. "Seems odd, especially if they had a run in with Megatron."

"Offer one hand while arming the other?"

"Wouldn't be the first time we've come across that." Bee remarked with a frown. He inputted several commands into the console, directing any further incoming communications to the main bridge, and stood up from his post. "I'll take a look at the files. It wouldn't be a bad idea to become familiar with the species in case Optimus does give us the go ahead on a change of course."

"Sounds like plan." Jazz agreed. "As for myself, there's still a lot of metal that needs dismantling. Jazz out."

With the connection terminated, Bee made his way toward operations where Optimus spent most of his time. It would be interesting to hear what the Autobot leader thought about the humans.

The massive doors slid open and Bee went to warble a greeting but the sound abruptly cut into static as he caught sight of Optimus in conversation with Wheeljack, their backs to him. Optics wide and body frozen, he held position, frantically hoping Wheeljack was oblivious to his entrance. When neither bot acknowledged him Bee hissed a relieved sigh and slowly started backing out of the room. One cautious step then the next as lightly as he could, turning gradually to head back out through the door.

"Hey! Don't think I don't see you there!" A voice called out and Bee slumped forward, caught. He glanced over his shoulder to see Wheeljack and Optimus watching him with irritation and amusement respectively.

"You are late going into stasis, Bumblebee!" snapped Wheeljack, mouthplate fixed while lights alongside his helm flashing brightly with each word.

Bee approached, giving them a guilty wave. "Duly noted, Jackie. I just...got busy." His posture straightened and he clicked a greeting as he looked up at Optimus who nodded in response; the Autobot leader's optics full of warmth as he regarded his youngest charge.

"No excuses. One bot in stasis every other deca-cycle." Wheeljack counted his digits. "Maintains optimal use of limited resources on extended voyages. Efficiency is affected with schedule disruptions."

"I'll be more than willing to have someone else go in my pla—" Bee tried but an irritated grunt stopped the suggestion abruptly.

"Every mech and femme needs to remain at optimal functioning, able to depart at a moment's notice if required. Stasis is the best way to repair wear and tear of body, mind and spark." Wheeljack's arms crossed, challenging Bee to try and get out of the obligation.

"I wanted to speak to Optimus about the huma—"

"I've already updated him regarding the human ship and its contents."

"I was going to review the fil—"

"You can look at the data while in stasis."

"You're not going to chang—"

"No I'm not and I'll drag you down there if I have to, just as I would with any other bot on this ship."

"Oh really?" Optimus's baritone voice murmured, giving Wheeljack a skeptical look.

"Even you, Prime." He nodded. "No exceptions."

Optimus chuckled and placed a comforting hand on Bee's shoulder. "Better heed his directions, Bumblebee. If you do however find anything of interest among the human data, feel free to bring it to my attention immediately."

Wheeljack sputtered but a motion from Optimus kept his silence.

"And Megatron, sir?" Bee asked. It was a question that couldn't wait; couldn't hang over him while he spent the next cycle alone in stasis. His digits twitched but he refrained from clenching them into fists.

Optic centers constricted as the subtle motion was not lost on Optimus. "All courses of action are being considered," he reassured, having reached the same conclusion as the other three. "I expect you to weigh the severity and consequences of each should the wrong one be chosen, as I am."

The weight of the hand was removed. Bee dipped his head, not necessarily placated but thankful for the added clarity. The reluctancy toward an immediate all out assault was simply due to the lack of strong evidence and, as such, acting on it could put lives at unnecessary risk as well as draw another world into their war. Neither were situations Optimus took lightly.

The two bots waited politely for Bumblebee to take his leave before resuming their prior conversation, but as the doors slid shut Bee made out Wheeljack telling Optimus about several new and strong AllSpark signals originating from Norma; the large arm that composed the central most region of their galaxy. It was a course that would veer them away from the human homeworld and away from Megatron.

The thought was unsettling. His intuition had always served him well in the past and it was telling him now that they were finally heading in the right direction. They just needed a bit more proof and by Primus, if the human data held it, he would find it.