Author's Notes: First of all, we are in the home stretch! Since TFP had a five part pilot, I decided to write the inverse and have a five part finale (plus the epilogue). So, welcome to part one of five for the finale of "My Spark Still Shines"! Second, this chapter contains a plot point I have waited literal years to write and post! Hopefully the setup and payoff was worth it. There are many threads to tie together, so these five parts might have chapters that are a little longer than usual. I managed to contain myself here though. Thank you all for reading, and a special thank you to those who review. After all, a writer has to feed off something :)

Chapter 51

Only The Good Die Young

Part 1

Walking was taking forever compared to driving, but the current situation couldn't be helped. Klunker was relieved when Bulkhead and Saline returned from the bottom of the cave. He was even more delighted to see Jazz and the new Vehicons. That jubilation soon turned to frustration however when he realized one Vehicon was less willing than the others to accompany them.

"You know what else is bad about Autobots? Their breath," SS-ICN-12 rattled on as they trudged through the woods together, "Yeah, it always smells like high grade, even when they ain't drinking. And from what I can tell your cables don't reach as far as they should either. At least that's what Airachnid said. She gave me the creeps, but she had some great gossip about Autobots prisoners."

"This guy talks more than Bluestreak," Bulkhead whispered to Jazz, "Can we just leave him behind? Or better yet, snuff his spark?"

"Not if he has a chance to remember who he was," Jazz whispered back.

"But what if he's a 'Con? Skywarp was," Bulkhead reminded him.

Meanwhile Klunker held Saline's servo and took the new Vehicon's abuse in stride. He knew this soldier just didn't know what to make of Autobots treating him as a real mech with rights. It was certainly a shock when he and Saline weren't tortured on the spot by their captors.

"And don't forget about how dumb Autobots are!" 12 continued, "I mean, you guys were the ones that had all the good schools, so how did you end up so stupid?"

"Why do you antagonize our hosts?" Klunker finally asked, "You seem determined to be shot where you stand, and I do not understand why."

"That's because you didn't almost assassinate Knockout," 12 retorted, "Believe me, if you were as big a screw up as I am, you'd wanna be dead too."

"So you're doing this on purpose?" Moonracer asked incredulously.

"Yeah, but it don't seem to be working," 12 noted, "Shame. I heard that Wreckers had hot tempers. So much for that, huh?"

"Heh, you almost killed Knockout, huh?" Bulkhead chuckled, "I don't know why you're so upset. If anything you should qualify as an Autobot on the spot."

"I don't wanna join you fragheads!" 12 snapped, "I'm Decepticon property and you've stolen me!"

"Eh, set it to music," Springer grumbled.

12 just let out a sharp intake of breath and kept his helm down as he walked. Klunker felt sympathy for the drone, but he didn't know how to help someone who seemed so determined to suffer. Saline, seeing her sparkmate glancing at the Vehicon, walked closer to SS-ICN-12.

"What do you want?" 12 snapped at the servant drone.

Saline pulled a small energon crystal out of her wrist and handed it to the drone.

"You get this from the mine?" 12 asked.

Saline nodded.

"You were hoarding it, weren't you?" 12 inquired knowingly.

Saline shrugged nonchalantly and continued to walk. 12 caught up with her, which she knew he would try to do. Young or old, mech or drone, Saline could generally read people.

"You know, I hoard things too," 12 confided, "I like to hide tools under my berth. I tried to be an inventor, but I blew it. I just wanted to help our soldiers fly. Thundercracker used flight to save me, and I…I just don't feel like I'm useful. There are thousands of drones like me, but only a few officers. I just wish I could contribute more than a few spare parts when I offline."

Saline held his arm in solidarity, a rare gesture for one who usually only reserved her affections for her family. 12 didn't understand the significance, but he did appreciate her support. He wasn't used to feeling true support from others. Living on board the Nemesis taught one mistrust and deception rather quickly. Could the Autobot way really be better than what he had always known? Probably not, but at least they didn't kill him.

The quiet of the day (if one could call it that) was soon interrupted by the sound of engines in the sky. Everyone readied themselves, sure that it was Eradicons ready to finish off the Autobots.

"When they start shootin', everybody scatter," Jazz ordered, "Splitting up means more targets they have to keep up with."

"Fine by me," 12 replied, "I'll run toward the Decepticons. You guys can run around and get shot."

"Funny," Bulkhead replied dryly, "Just stay out of our way, drone."

Everyone searched the skies for what they were hearing, but it was Jazz who first saw the glorious sight of the Jackhammer.

"It's Wheeljack!" Jazz announced joyously.

"Alright, Jackie!" Bulkhead jumped in the air in excitement, a difficult feat for one so big.

The Autobots rejoiced, but 12 gulped nervously. He knew the Wreckers had a reputation for brutality, as well as a near perfect record for victories. The Wreckers always scared SS-ICN-12, even when he was first built, yet he had never seen them in combat for himself.

The ship landed in a clearing near a river, and the Autobots rushed over to greet their friend with their prisoner in tow. As it turned out, they weren't just greeting one friend, but rather several. Optimus Prime was the first one to disembark, followed by a Vehicon, Wheeljack, Bumblebee, and two of the three human kids.

"I was wondering what took you so long, Jackie," Bulkhead ribbed his friend, "You sit on your navigation console or something?"

"Nah, just had to take a few detours first," Wheeljack replied nonchalantly.

Jazz wasn't paying much attention to Bulkhead and Wheeljack however. Optimus looked like he had just lost a friend, and in Jazz's experience that look was usually accompanied by exactly that.

"Hey, Bossbot. How are you holding up?" Jazz asked in concern.

Optimus, normally a great diplomat and orator, was at a loss for words. He just stood there and hung his helm, unable to express how deep his well of sadness went. Elita, fortunately, knew how to formulate her thoughts.

"We're in the middle of a crisis situation," Elita reported, "Wheeljack convinced us to come here and look for Bulkhead, but the truth is we don't have time. We're attempting to track down Megatron's warship, and we need it found yesterday."

"What happened?" Jazz inquired.

"Well-" Elita began, but Optimus put his servo on her shoulder.

"Elita, I am capable of handling this now. Thank you," Optimus said gratefully, "Jazz, we have suffered a casualty, and the Decepticons have taken two of our own as prisoners. Jazz…it was Ratchet and Bluestreak."

"Oh, pit," Jazz breathed tensely, "Alright then. Whatever you need me to do, I'm on it. We'll get them back, Prime. You'll see."

Optimus smiled, or at least tried to. It was friends like Jazz and Ratchet that made his job a little easier, and he would never forgive himself if he allowed Ratchet to be killed by Megatron. Not to mention Bluestreak, a mech that had only just begun to live. He couldn't let them down, even now when an Autobot victory seemed all but impossible. They had to look out for each other, and remain strong through their unity.

"Uh, Prime?" Jazz pulled Optimus out of his thoughts, "Who's the casualty?"

"Skywarp," Optimus replied somberly, "He died a hero, and hopefully someday I can find a way to honor his sacrifice."

"Skywarp died a hero?" Jazz asked in mild surprise, "Honestly I expected him to be killed by someone he fragged off or something. Wow…strangely enough, that kinda gives me hope. Maybe any Vehicon can change, if even Skywarp could."

"Noooo! You're not taking me alive!" A sudden screaming filled the air.

Optimus, Elita, and Jazz turned to see Bulkhead and Bumblebee trying to get the new Vehicon into the Jackhammer.

"Let me go! I'd rather die!" 12 shouted indignantly, "You scrap-sucking, motherboard-fragging, cosmic rust infested infidels!"

"Shut up already!" Bulkhead snapped even as he tried to lead the Vehicon inside.

"No! I will not shut up!" 12 argued, "You're gonna kill me, so I get to talk. I think it should be a rule that the dying person always gets to talk."

"I assure you that no one wishes you harm," Optimus said as he approached the scene.

"Aaaahhh!" 12 screamed when he saw the Prime, "Let me go! Let me go! I'm not a valuable prisoner! I tried to kill Knockout! No, wait, I didn't try. I mean…aw, frag. Just shoot me between the optics so I can't see what you do next. Just don't desecrate me too bad, alright? My parts aren't made for your clunky frames."

"For frag's sake, what will make you shut up?" Bulkhead asked irritably as he pushed his hands against his audials.

"Just get inside the ship, everyone," Elita ground out, "Ratchet could be in a torture chamber as we speak, so I don't want to see you just standing there like statues. Now move, move, move!"

For whatever reason, even as a Vehicon, Elita still commanded obedience. Everyone did as she said, but 12 continued to grumble all the while. If they were going to remove that suppression chip from his head, then they either needed Ratchet or they needed Wheeljack and Moonracer to work another miracle.

Ratchet sat in a hot and shadow-laden cell in Darkmount. The seekers separated him from Bluestreak, and he feared what would happen to his son. Ratchet knew at any moment the torturers would come to interrogate him. He knew he would probably die as one of the last martyrs of the Autobot cause. He only hoped Bluestreak would by some miracle live on.

Heavy pede steps could be heard outside the brig, and Ratchet knew from vorns of experience who was coming. He steeled himself for what was surely to happen, ready to die as a brave and unyielding Autobot.

Megatron opened the cell, unguarded and grinning. Clearly the warlord knew he had nothing to fear from an elderly medic. Ratchet glared, showing Megatron that he likewise felt he had nothing to fear from the towering Decepticon.

"It's good to see you in fair health, doctor," Megatron greeted him with deceptive cordiality, "I hope the accommodations have been to your liking."

"Get to the point, Megatron," Ratchet groused impatiently.

"Now Doctor, there's no reason for us to argue," Megatron assuaged, "After all, we want the same thing: the restoration of Cybertron."

This statement caught Ratchet off guard, though he didn't allow his surprise to show. He was sure Megatron was here to kill him or interrogate him for information, so this sudden change in topic was something he hadn't been prepared for.

"I'll be direct, Ratchet. I believe we have discovered a way to build a new Omega Lock," Megatron explained, "However, we are missing a key ingredient; one that I believe you are familiar with. Synthetic energon was something you came close to perfecting, was it not?"

"I don't recall," Ratchet replied dryly, trying to not reveal his hand too early.

"Oh, but I believe you do, doctor," Megatron practically purred, "There's no reason for you to keep this information from me. With your help, my mechs can finalize the synth en formula. Then our home planet can live again. Just imagine it Ratchet…sparklings at play in the streets, cyberhounds chasing turbo foxes in the crystal fields, and energon for all. Together we can make that happen."

"And what's to stop you from killing me when I finish concocting the synthetic energon?" Ratchet asked challengingly.

"Nothing at all," Megatron replied with surprising candor, "My ambitions have not changed, and I doubt yours have either. Of course, I don't believe your life is the one you're truly concerned for, now is it?"

Megatron then motioned with his hand toward the door, and it opened to reveal three Vehicons. The drones on the right and left sides were typical impassive soldiers, but the one in the middle was downtrodden and missing his arm. Ratchet knew immediately then…it was Bluestreak.

"Create the synth en for my new Omega Lock, or I will kill this drone," Megatron threatened.

Ratchet was terrified for Bluestreak's safety, but he also knew Megatron was the type to exploit any weakness he was given. Ratchet couldn't afford to back down now, not if Cybertronians were to ever be free from Megatron's tyranny.

"Is this Vehicon supposed to mean something to me?" Ratchet asked dismissively.

"I should say so, considering you gave yourself up to save it," Megatron countered, "Starscream told me everything. You agreed to surrender so he wouldn't kill this worthless pile of scrap."

Ratchet's optics closed then, ashamed that he had been so easily exposed.

"I don't know why the drone matters to you, but that hardly seems pertinent. Last warning, Doctor: surrender your secrets to me, or watch your little stooge perish by the light of my cannon."

Ratchet could tell Megatron was serious, and why wouldn't he be? To Megatron even if it didn't get him what he wanted, killing a faceless Vehicon meant nothing to him. He was the reason they even existed, each one a mech or femme that had been transformed into something ugly and disposable. Ratchet turned his head away, unable to even look at Megatron looming over the dismembered and frightened form of his beloved son.

"Alright…I'll do it," Ratchet relented.

"Excellent," Megatron grinned, "Guards, show the good doctor to the lab. Starscream and Thundercracker will be there waiting for him. I'll escort our wayward drone back to his cell personally."

"Shouldn't he come with me?" Ratchet quickly asked, "He could be an assistant."

"With one arm?" Megatron asked tauntingly, "I don't think he could. Don't worry, you will be allowed to visit the drone shortly. Guards!"

With that the Vehicons grabbed Ratchet from either side. He brushed them away in annoyance and walked alongside them. He feared what would happen to Bluestreak in Megatron's care, but he was powerless to do anything about it. All he could hope for now was that Megatron would show restraint long enough for the Autobots to find and rescue them.

Megatron, meanwhile, led Bluestreak away. Bluestreak hadn't spoken because he didn't want to get his sire into trouble, but now he worried that he might have squandered his last chance to ever speak to him again. He knew Megatron would probably kill him, so he felt like he should have at least said goodbye.

/Megatron to Knockout,/ Megatron spoke over the comm.

/Knockout here. How can I help you?/

/I am bringing a Vehicon to your secondary lab,/ Megatron told him, /If you know what's good for you then you will be there before we arrive./

/The secondary lab?/ Knockout whined, /Lord Megatron, this is ridiculous! Starscream is never going to discover synthetic energon. Can't I just go back to my medbay?/

/You forget yourself, doctor,/ Megatron growled, /It is my medbay because it is my ship. If you don't want to be replaced by Starscream permanently then I suggest you haul your aft to the secondary lab now./

Knockout sighed but agreed to be there. Megatron cut off the comm before Knockout could say anything else to annoy him. He then looked down at the depressed little drone and smiled wickedly. Soon he would have everything he ever wanted. Cybertron, the Autobots' destruction, and the respect of the galaxy would soon all be his.

When Megatron got to the lab however, Knockout wasn't there yet.

"Of course he's late…" Megatron grumbled.

"Who's late?" Bluestreak asked despite himself.

"Knockout," Megatron replied irritably, "I don't know why I put up with that shiny red coward. It's like talking to an aristocrat to try to get him to do anything. He's lazier than a limbless corpse."

"It could be worse," Bluestreak said to try to cheer him up, "At least he's never tried to kill you."

"He did. Once," Megatron confided.

"Really?" Bluestreak gasped, "When was that?"

"When Starscream tried to kill me during my coma," Megatron told him, "He made a deal with Knockout, a deal that only Soundwave managed to stop. They thought I couldn't hear them when I was under, but I did. Knockout was going to be Starscream's second in command. Bah! Can you imagine? I almost regret not dying, if only to see Starscream try to get any work out of that preening simpering moron. The Decepticons would have surely fallen under their expert guidance."

"Wow, I had no idea," Bluestreak replied in a subdued voice, "You know sir, it's a shame you never spoke to me like this when I was PR-35. I loved you then sir, and I would have considered it a great honor to have a conversation with you. Now though, all I feel is sadness, knowing what you did to me."

"So, you have your memories back," Megatron nodded in contemplation, "I thought that might be it."

"Might be what?" Bluestreak asked.

"Why the medic is working so hard to protect you," Megatron replied, "So, now the Autobots know what has happened to their people. Well, then that will make it even more satisfying when they see the spark salvager come for them. It's a shame there are so few Autobots left, if only because now replacing our ranks will become nearly impossible."

"Are you going to turn Si-, um, the medic into a Vehicon too?" Bluestreak inquired.

"No," Megatron replied, much to Bluestreak's relief, "I have something better planned."

Megatron then grabbed Bluestreak's arm and forcefully led him to the operating berth. Bluestreak didn't even resist as his arm and the nub of his gun arm were strapped down. He knew he had no power to defend himself without his gun, and he feared any disobedience from him would equal pain for his sire. As Megatron strapped down Bluestreak's legs, Knockout finally made his way into the secondary lab.

"Took you long enough, Doctor," Megatron snapped, "Where have you been?"

"Apologies, my liege," Knockout bowed as he spoke, "My body has healed, but there is still pain from my, um, accident."

"You mean your recklessness," Megatron corrected, much to Knockout's shame, "Just get over here! I have a job for you."

"You want me to repair this drone's arm?" Knockout guessed.

"Yes, but first I want you to install a new suppressor chip," Megatron ordered.

Suppressor chip…while Bluestreak's medical training wasn't complete, he definitely remembered what that word meant.

"You mean I'm going to forget who I am again?" Bluestreak asked worriedly, "You don't have to do that, sir. Just leave me as I am. I'm harmless to you like this."

"I know," Megatron growled, "I don't want you harmless. Knockout, the Autobot Ratchet is collaborating with Starscream on the synth en formula. When he is finished, I want this Vehicon in perfect working condition. It's just what I need to dispose of our meddlesome medic."

"Meddlesome medic? You mean Ratchet, right?" Knockout asked nervously.

"You can't! I won't kill him! You can't make me!" Bluestreak shouted as he finally tried to free himself of his restraints, "I'm not your puppet anymore, Megatron!"

"You will be," Megatron replied pointblank, "Be quick but thorough, Doctor."

With that order Megatron left Bluestreak to his fate. Bluestreak could hear Megatron chuckling as he walked through the halls. He couldn't believe this. He was going to be made into a drone just so he could kill his sire? This was his worst nightmare come true.

"Alright then, let's get to work, shall we?" Knockout hummed as he pulled out a toolkit.

"No, please!" Bluestreak begged, "Knockout, he's going to make me kill my sire! Don't do this to me. I'll do anything you want, I mean it, just don't wipe my processor, please!"

"Now, now, there's nothing to worry about," Knockout smirked as he patted Bluestreak's helm, "I know what I'm doing. I'll make you good as new. It'll be as easy as oil cake."

"How can you do this for him?" Bluestreak cried out, "After everything he's done to us? He's a monster! You know he's a monster, and Sire even agreed to help him! He doesn't deserve to die for this, please!"

"You're not listening to me," Knockout said firmly, "It'll be easy…as…oil cake."

Bluestreak was confused for a moment, but then it suddenly clicked for him where he had heard that phrase before. He made up that code word with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe to use whenever they got into trouble. He and Sideswipe used to use it all the time, and Sunstreaker used it when their sire was electrocuting Sideswipe within an inch of his life.

"How did you know that?" Bluestreak asked suspiciously, "How did you know about that code word? Did you use the cortical psychic patch on me?"

"When could I have done that?" Knockout asked, "I doubt you passed out between when you were captured two hours ago and now. In fact, if I recall correctly, one of your guards made an offhand remark that you wouldn't stop talking to him about the weather."

"I thought I recognized him," Bluestreak replied defensively, "But wait! If you know the code word, and I only ever told it to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, then…who are you?"

"Does it matter?" Knockout asked, a sudden melancholy to his tone.

"Yes it matters," Bluestreak insisted, "Because it either means you killed one of my best friends, or…you are one of my best friends."

"It must be nice to not have any baggage from a lifetime lived," Knockout smiled sadly, "Just one day you're a sparkling, and then one day you get your memory back and everything's changed. Your war crimes weren't your fault, and you don't have to wonder where you went wrong, because technically you were never given the chance to. I wonder how well you truly remember those days and those terrible twins…"

"Sideswipe was fun. He was cool, and always knew the right thing to say," Bluestreak reminisced, "And Sunstreaker had a hard golden shell to hide the sensitive and caring mech he could be inside. They were different, and yet they were essentially the same spark. Like two sides of a tire. One side is shiny and shown to the world, and the other side is hidden yet connected to the rest of the body. I miss them."

"Yeah," Knockout sighed wistfully, "I miss them too."

"How did you know them?" Bluestreak asked.

"I think you know," Knockout replied vaguely, "Just so you don't get your hopes up, I should probably tell you…"

Bluestreak waited for Knockout to finish what he was about to say, but he didn't. Knockout gazed at the wall, seemingly worlds away in his mind.

"Knockout?" Bluestreak called out.

Nothing.

"Sir?"

Still nothing.

"…Sideswipe?"

That got Knockout's attention. He jerked like he had been shocked with his own prod. He looked down at Bluestreak, whose red visor stared up at him in expectation. Knockout's optics shut tight, and he grabbed the Vehicon's only servo with his own; holding on like a falling man hanging onto a rope. Knockout began to cry, and Bluestreak cried too.

"You don't have to say it," Bluestreak offered, "I think I know."

"…Thank you," Knockout whispered, "I'm just…so tired of losing people. Everyone who ever cared about me has died. I don't have anyone left."

"Yes you do," Bluestreak replied, "I'm still here."

Knockout, unable to take the weight of his grief anymore, threw himself on the Vehicon and began to sob. Bluestreak couldn't move, couldn't even lift his arm to console the medic, but he had a feeling his presence was enough. He couldn't believe this was really Sideswipe, and yet somehow seeing him now he had no doubt it was true. Sideswipe was alive.