September 11, 2001, 5:30 AM PST. Autobot City construction site, Oregon.

"Tracks!"

I was barely offline after coming in late from an unbalanced Decepticon fight when Ultra Magnus raced into his chambers to drag me off of his recharge plate.

"Maggie...this had better be good." Since the time he threatened to rip my wings off if I called him that again I've been careful using that particular nickname, but come ON, I just laid down. He ignored it.

"You need to see this." Ultra Magnus' stride did not let up, nor did the frown on his face.

The construction site is three-fourths finished, behind schedule thanks to Megatron's constant attempts to destroy what we've just built. Somehow Ultra Magnus convinced Optimus Prime that I would be a valuable asset on the Aerialbot-only defense team, which means I'm here until they establish our weapons system, which takes about half a year. This is month five. The Decepticons attack with greater frequency, leaving me no time for frivolities such as replenishing my energy, making me even more irritated when my 'friend' drags me out of bed.

I suppose that 'associate' might be a better moniker. The classless flying toasters with whom I battle our enemies prefer calling it 'banging the boss.' I heard that punk wannabe Hot Rod call him my 'sweetie.' I don't know. Two decades ago I convinced him to help me polish my new paint job and he's been around, more or less, confounding me at every turn. He's not very interested in earth beings, he couldn't make a decent conversation if Starscream pointed Megatron to his head, he's two times the size I want him to be, and if he had his way he'd chuck this whole 'running Autobot City' gig and play paintball with Warpath and the Lamborghini twins until this planet lost its inertia and flew away from the sun. I can't walk around this place without fear of being jumped because he can't keep his hands off of me. For five months I couldn't go offline (which is unbelievable considering I've gone without affection for fourteen years). I have no idea what to classify him as, other than...I guess...'mine.'

Ultra Magnus turned the television set on through Teletraan-1 and pointed to the flaming tower of fire. "A plane hit the World Trade Center in New York."

A pity. I imagined a memorial ceremony, news anchors clucking their tongues in existential misery, further investigation leading to a conclusion that some drunk captain had lost control of his vehicle. Perhaps some commentary on the airline system itself. I asked Ultra Magnus if he considered Decepticon culprits.

"No." He did not elucidate, as usual. Optimus Prime would explain why, or begin heralding orders to mobilize but Ultra Magnus is different. As we stood, wordlessly pondering the significance of this tragedy a blur whizzed past the inferno and smashed into the second tower.

"No!" I moaned, unaware that I was running out the door until Ultra Magnus grabbed a hold of me. "I have to go!"

"Wait!" he replied, struggling to calm me down. Half of what he said to me did not process. All I knew was that mere observation was not an option.

I couldn't wait. There was no chance that I would stay here when the city I loved was burning to a crisp. "I have to go," I explained again, fighting him to release me. "Raul is there-I have to help-I have to go!" He wasn't listening either, talking gibberish over my voice. As we struggled for supremacy I saw the Aerialbots come in, babbling loudly in that shrieking coven they turn into when together.

"They're going at it again," Slingshot sneered. "They're worse than rabbits." Three others tittered.

"Guys," warned Silverbolt sharply.

Ultra Magnus released me and I ran back into the room I had left to see it again, now that I had calmed down enough to let denial set in. The buildings were still on fire. This is not a test. Footsteps clunked up behind me but I couldn't look up, transfixed at the horrifying sight before me. My city is in ruins. New York, the greatest human municipality ever constructed is under attack, and I can't sit here on the other side of the country and watch. I have to be there, to help, protect, find the tailpipe-suckers who DID this and get some justice!

Ultra Magnus watched me rush past him and followed me out. "Where are you going?" he demanded.

"New York. Maybe I can get a hold of Raul before I leave," I replied, breaking into a run.

"No, you're not." His tone actually halted me in mid-sprint. It was condescendingly authoritative, as though he were addressing a stubborn Decepticon prisoner, like one of those arrogant Seekers. The Aerialbots peaked out the door, one on top of the other like the five Stooges.

"EXCUSE me?" I demanded. That is the first time he's ever spoken to me that way. Sometimes he gets growly around Perceptor, or a few of the more troublemaking Autobots, but I have almost NEVER heard him snarl at me, no matter what I've done.

"We need to wait until Optimus Prime contacts us before we do anything rash." Always by the book, always letting someone else make the decisions; Ultra Magnus will never change. I resumed my exodus until I heard him say, and in an even angrier tone, "That's an order!"

I may have been with this mech technically for about five months. On and off again, closer to nineteen years. We've changed considerably in our time apart. One thing that has remained constant is that one of us is going to find a way to hurt the other, intentionally or not. What he just said to me, treating me like a misbehaving Hot Rod, stung. I knew he was a bully to everyone else, it was something that loomed in the back of my database all of the time; but I never expected him to be that way with me. "That's an order," I repeated. "Interesting how you'll only pull rank when you're not getting me to do it your way." The Aerialbots audibly dropped their jaws, chins clunking on the head below them.

"Watch it," he growled warningly. He was losing a battle of self-control. 'Keep trying to swallow the anger, Maggie. Don't let anyone see they got to you, or else they'd think you were normal. Instead it's coming out when you're scared, like now when it hits you I'm leaving.' I can tell it's overflowing from the overused dam he's kept it in for so long. I feel sorry that I'm the source of all of this pain and suffering, but this is nothing new. If I could change the way he saw things we might be in a happier place, but I don't have that kind of power, so instead I have to see him practically crying and hate him for it because he's upsetting me at the same time.

"Watch what?"

"Insubordination is not acceptable, no matter the circumstances." He's trying to put me in my place. How sorry he'll be if he makes me choose between what I want and what he wants. "You might be more of a burden than a help without clearance," Ultra Magnus explained, coming closer. "There may be Decepticons."

"I am going," I snarled, backing away from him. "Whether you allow it or not. They need me." After all of the inner workings I've shared with him, telling him how much New York means to me, and what I've done for it, it all evaporates when I won't stay around to be his plaything. He can't process that I have had a love affair with this city since I came here, and that once you call that place home it will never stray far from your heart...spark. Whichever. Something on my face must have told him I was serious.

Ultra Magnus covered his optics. "I can't believe you're being so selfish," he muttered. I couldn't say anything; I was muted by my rage. Silverbolt detached himself from the clump and pointed out I am acting with purely unselfish motives and that I must have acquired this perspective of generosity from Ultra Magnus.

"You have such a big heart, sir," he explained nervously, noticing my scowl at his feeble attempt to sooth two very stubborn mechs.

"Unfortunately, with part of it going several thousand miles away it's proving it doesn't stretch that far," Ultra Magnus growled as he removed his hand from his face. Silverbolt fidgeted, giving a promise to bring me back as soon as we were no longer needed. Ultra Magnus pondered for an agonizing five minutes and relaxed his shoulders in defeat. "Go. The Aerialbots will accompany you," he finally declared. He handed Silverbolt a datapad and stalked off, calling something to me from the other room.

"What did that mean?" Air Raid asked, looking up from reading the datapad over Silverbolt's shoulder.

I had no idea, since I hadn't been paying attention. I had to telephone Raul. The city was calling me. "I'll tell you later," I responded, hoping they'd forget.

Perceptor's endless research papers brought even Blurr into a coma on a regular day, but one stuck in my head as I watched the Aerialbots secretly signal to each other when they thought I wasn't looking: "Gestalt Relationships Contrasted with the Average Autobot." He found that the Protectobots and the Aerialbots had no concept of one-on-one mech relationships due to their being programmed with strong emotional and mental links to each other. I can't remember most of it (since somebody who shall remain nameless kept stroking a corner of my wing with his finger to distract me) but he warned us that should we be asked a lot of questions to humor them, since they didn't know what came naturally to the rest of us.

"I can understand what he sees in YOU," Air Raid commented one day while we cleaned our blasters. "What do you see in HIM?"

I could take this several directions. I could be a great teacher and explain how after a few million years you become so accustomed to some people that when you finally do get around to becoming more than soldiers it seems like second nature. Although they wouldn't understand it I might explain how I've seen him go through many things, and how much I admire him for still being himself while changing for the better. I could tell them I liked how great he is. How nice it is to have someone who loves to play ridiculous games with me and tell me I'm breathtaking and likes to polish my surface until it gleams; since we don't have four or five gestalt mates to stand up for us, at least I have one mech who is not afraid to protect me, unlike anyone else. The Aerialbots were unaware of the censure I'd endured, the scuttlebutt from 'Tracks the earth-lover' and 'Tracks the human-wannabe', 'Tracks the vain,' etc. Ultra Magnus didn't care about what they said, all he cared about was being with me. I couldn't tell this kid any of that.

"He laughs at my jokes," I explained, attention on my gun. It was the simplest truth of all.

"So what was that comment Ultra Magnus made before we left?" Fireflight inquired as we flew in the empty skies. No airplanes flew around us, although this was a frequented airspace, alarming Silverbolt. I didn't care. As soon as I got there I could find out what was going on and somehow make SENSE about this whole thing. The radio had told us about the World Trade Center's collapse, and who might be behind it. They told us about the Pentagon and another plane crash and the nationwide panic that fewer than fifty humans had inflicted. Fireflight had to repeat his question twice to get my attention.

"He said you had to be careful of being mauled by bears." I could feel their expectation as they lowered altitude to hear better.

"Inside joke," I replied uneasily. This was not a story they needed to hear.

"Yeah," Silverbolt chimed in. "I remember that day...when you looked like you'd lost a fight with the Combaticons and Warpath asked you what happened, and-"

"You told him you'd been mauled by a bear!" Fireflight interrupted. "And the boss cracked up."

"Right. It was a joke. Nothing else." I couldn't fly as fast as they could, so while they were accompanying me they'd entertain themselves by doing tricks, playing with each other in the air. Their youthful exuberance made me feel old and tired.

The incident they referred to made me think about Ultra Magnus in a more positive light than I had this morning. One night we turned off all of our internal mechanisms, including our equilibrium, and chased each other around the side of a mountain in the rain. ("It'll be fun," he said. "Why is it when you like it it's fun, but when I like it it's torture?" "Are you going to keep bringing that up?" "Why not? I haven't had a decent polish job in awhile." "Next time." "You said that the last time." "Shut up, Tracks," he said, giving me a playful shove to get me on my way.) He had me on the run, hiding in some of the larger trees, until a branch broke and I landed on top of him. With no sense of balance he rolled down the mountain, taking me along for the ride and bending my wings back. When we finally rolled to a stop I was covering him and the mud covered us. Before I complained what the mud would do to me I felt the warm surge of energy and combated it with my own until we couldn't stand the torrents of pleasure and let it overtake us. He wrapped one large arm around me and smeared his other grimy hand on my face as the dark water surrounded our bodies. When the laughter died down he grew serious.

"I could look into these optics forever," he sighed, reiterating our most common thread of dialogue. Like I said before, Ultra Magnus' forte is not conversation.

As usual, I responded with, "I don't know why. Two nice colors horrendously mixed. Neither coordinates with my paint detail. Your optics are the perfect match to the rest of you." Typically his answer would be him saying he was glad I got to look at what I liked and he could gaze upon his preference. Tonight he deviated.

"Tiny green sparkles of light," he crooned, filthy fingers tracing the line where my helmet meets my faceplate. "Like your spark is trying to come out of your body and show how beautiful you are on the inside, too."

Who knew he was such a poet? Every now and then something exceptional comes out of his processor, like wisdom from a Dinobot. I wasn't sure if he meant it: Ultra Magnus sometimes won't say what he's thinking when it comes to me. It's as though he fears it will be used against him later; exploited like a weakness. The tremor in his voice and the perfect azure glow of his eyes told me more than he could ever say himself. When the significance of his words registered it was as though our worlds fell into place to reemerge as a single being. We would never be alone again. I smiled at him fondly, my spark radiating and intensifying as the words tumbled out of me as naturally as the rain falling on my back.

"I love you too."

The next morning in a great show of concern an amused Warpath asked me why I looked so dented and scratched, as though a bear had mauled me. Ultra Magnus overheard this and cracked up, his first public laugh in a very long time. I felt good enough to reply in the affirmative, making it sort of a code.

"Did you read that datapad the boss showed us?" Fireflight asked, finally breaking free of Skydive's dogfight.

"No, I missed it. Why?" These Autobots are more irritating than a flock of seagulls. (The band or the bird, take your pick.) I wish they'd shut up and fly.

"You missed half of what he said to you. You were in another world."

"I had other things to consider besides what that swaggering arsenal had to say. This place is the closest thing I can call home," I informed him, injured. "When something goes wrong, I want to be there, not waiting for Prime to decide if he remembers us!"

"Okay, okay! Geez!" he sniffed, pulling up to go after one of his brothers.

"Hold it! I'm sorry. It's been a rough day." The hours were going forward, though, thanks to the time zone change. When we got there it would be late afternoon or early evening. "What did it say?"

"It was orders from Optimus Prime. Hound finished testing the munitions and they're good enough to install into Autobot City, so our tour of duty is over as soon as they're delivered, which would be the 15th."

"Of THIS month?" I asked, panicking.

"Yeah. Optimus wants us to report back by the 16th for a new assignment."

"The devil!" Prime ALWAYS gives at least two weeks notice for that kind of thing, which means Ultra Magnus hung onto that particularly nasty piece of news for ten days! I landed in the middle of a cornfield and began pacing. That's what he was trying to tell me. Instead of saying it to my face, he had to say everything but, which is NOT how you talk to me! Now what do I do? I couldn't go back and wait four days, the need to be in The City was too strong to let me do anything but worry. If I stayed in New York I lost him forever. Prime is not a fool. He disapproved of this match the minute Ultra Magnus told him what we were doing, which is probably the only time he's ever told someone what's really going on in his processor. Funny how he'll tell PRIME but not me, the one who's affected by these decisions. I could feel my wrath boiling over.

"Will you quit making crop circles and get going?" Slingshot demanded, landing next to me like a buzzing fly. My fist balled up and I sent him reeling before I could even process what I was doing. The Aerialbots, never ones to allow that kind of treatment, responded by piling onto me, corn stalks flying as they kicked my tailpipe. After a fruitless defense on my part they pulled away to give me time to assess the damage.

I asked them if they were happy now, my wings were misaligned and I'd have to drive the rest of the way. Their response was not positive. They became Superion and scooped me up like a Barbie Doll, carrying me there in a humiliating method. That's the last time I travel with a gestalt. I added them to my list of people to hate, which included Dinobots and Seaspray when he's over-energized.

New York was in a state of emergency when we arrived. The mayor himself welcomed us, introducing a few important people before we got to work patrolling the skies for anyone thinking of making a coup de grace. The smoke roiling out of the conflagration that used to be two mighty towers hearkened the days of Cybertron when I was running from my city as the Decepticons burned it to the ground. I felt for the humans. There is nothing more terrifying than seeing everything you've ever known be destroyed in moments of pure evil, accompanied by the powerlessness that envelops you and breaks your heart as the realization hits that NOTHING will EVER be the way it used to. That is why I'm here. I couldn't save my friends or my brothers, but I'll be smelted before I allow it to happen to another being. I was too late again for the first attack, something that haunts me even now as I fly around the coast for the third time tonight, but there will not be another.

It's a week before I see other Autobots arrive. Inferno, Red Alert, Optimus Prime (who hates this city but would not miss a chance to act heroic), Grapple, and Hoist are here to help any way they can. I'm finally pulled out of the sky and replaced by helicopters, told to rest up before I go into stasis-lock, but something was missing in my recharge plate. Going offline was difficult until Inferno pounded on my door one night to tell me that Prime wanted to see me.

Optimus Prime looked old. My guess would be that he's been getting less rest than I have. I told him he should go to bed while he informed me Teletraan-1 had a phone call on hold, and would I keep it short: we need the line. Then he tottered out.

I turned on the screen to see a solemn blue and white face nod a greeting. Relief flooded me. If he wanted to talk to me again, that meant he had come to terms with my leaving and had forgiven me. When he gets mad at me he won't speak, preferring to wait until he's rational. "I have received your package," he addressed, holding the UPS box in his hand. It was small when I got it but looks miniscule in his giant paws.

"You're supposed to open it," I say drolly, once I've gotten over the pain that seared in me when I've realized how much I miss him. "Go ahead."

He carefully tried to peel off the tape but only succeeded in ripping the top off. Packing peanuts scattered out of the box like eddies of snow as he poured the contents into his palm. He held the smaller thing aloft, his fingers pinching its head as he studied it in confusion.

"I heart NY," He's reading the T shirt it's wearing.

"It's a human gift. They call them teddy bears." I tried not to be amused by his confusion. It's so easy, so sweet, to laugh at someone so intelligent who can be so easily stymied by another planet's customs. "A bear in case you need an extra mauling occasionally."

He's far away from me, and I don't know when or if I'll be allowed to return to Autobot City any time soon, but until then, I want him to know I'm thinking about him every moment I function, and the minute I'm free I will find him and we will continue where we left off. It's a heavy message to put into a clump of fake fur-covered stuffing, but if he wants to communicate indirectly, I figured it was worth a shot to follow suit, something Wheeljack's told me more than once to try. Ultra Magnus placed it on the keyboard and his optics glowed luminously.

"I love you too," he said.