Transformers Prime: Through Hell & Back Again

by xXBlack'BladeXx

She is his daughter; he loves her with his entire spark. He would do anything to protect her and keep her safe. Now both her fate and that of the universe lies in his hands. He will be tested, and he will not fail. He can't. He will do whatever it takes to bring her back home again safe and sound... even if it means going through Hell and back again.

37. Damages

This chapter… was so hard to write. Mostly due to the fact that it is—as the TikTok trend says—EMOTIONAL DAMAGE! And also, just personally, what I took inspiration from now holds a bit of emotional trauma for me because it's become very tied into my Lupus and everything that led up to that diagnosis several years ago. So, because I had a scene of it playing in the background as I was writing when I got to that specific part, I had to take lots of breaks in order to get myself out of the mindset it put me into. So, yes. Fun. I don't know how many more chapters of this there will be. I do know they should be far more action-packed though. Enjoy!

Also, introducing one of my spark-sister's characters! We'll see and hear more of them as the series continued.

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"It's not safe here anymore—there's too much damage to ignore. I've spun in circles, I'm confused. If no one wins, does no one lose? We never learned to bend… so we break and break again. And now we're broken in… too many pieces to mend…." Libby Weaver; Too Many to Mend

36

Dampna

(Damages)

He was standing in a living room of an earth house. He knew only two living rooms; this one was neither of them. It was small, but the light, soft yellow color of the walls made it appear much more roomy and open than the actual size allowed. The furniture was eclectic, holding to no real theme except apparently the taste of whoever lived here.; that being said, it still all fit together rather nicely and made the space seem charming. And now that he was really looking at the place, it did seem slightly familiar, but only slightly—as in just mainly that couch.

But how was he standing in an earth house living room? Was he in holoform? He didn't remember activating it. He didn't even remember arriving at such a place either, come to think of it. What was going on?

He glanced down at one of his hands. Nope, not in holoform; still in robotic form—so how in pit was he fitting inside an earth house?! Unless he'd reset his holoform back to its default mode? But he didn't remember doing that either.

There was music coming from somewhere further in the house, loud but not obnoxiously so (certainly not as loud as Miko enjoyed her music); two voices accompanied the song. He recognized the one voice as the artist of the song (Lita Ford 'Kiss Me Deadly' [how many times had he heard that song being played all those years ago on the playlist Lennox, Epps, and their Army unit had made to help teach the Autobots about Earth culture?]), but the other voice he didn't. However, the closer he listened, the more he could pick out a familiar tone to the voice; Familiar, Similar, but not quite the same as whatever his mind was trying to peg it as.

He debated going in search of the music and the voice, but he still had no idea what was going on here apart from the fact that he'd somehow ended up in a house that he didn't know (except maybe vaguely?) with no memory of how he'd come to be there. If he hadn't been invited, it was already bad enough to be standing in the living room let alone go snooping through the rest of the house. So, unsure what to do, he remained in his spot.

All at once, a happy, two-toned sound rang out through the house: a doorbell. He froze, dread settling over his fuel tank. Whoever owned this house was going to walk in here any second to answer the door, and, even if he was in holoform (maybe?), he was still in the form of a large, red and blue, battle-scarred robot; he would be impossible to miss standing in the middle of this pleasant, soft, cozy little living room. Unless, of course, the homeowner was blind. But he would never be so lucky for that to happen.

The dread only grew as the volume of the music lessened and the sound of bare feet on wood floorboards reached his audio-receptors. He could swear condensation was collecting on his holoform's (? He still wasn't quite convinced) helm. How was he going to explain this? How could he even expect them to listen if he could figure out a way to explain this?

The footsteps drew closer as the doorbell sounded off again. He remained stock-still and waited for the storm to erupt. He watched the entrance of the living room. Any second now the screaming would commence.

The occupant of the house stepped into the living room. IF he hadn't been frozen solid before, he would be now in complete shock; he recognized her! Quinn! Quinn James—Hunter's mother; with a different shirt and pair of sweatpants on, but for all intents and purposes looking very much as she had in Hunter's home video that they'd watched not long ago.

That's when it all made sense. He wasn't really here; this all wasn't real—or at least not anymore. Not like this. This was a dream. No, not a dream—

"A memory," Optimus muttered to himself. "But whose?"

"Hers," a voice echoed around him.

Optimus quickly turned to see Greasy, he too in his Cybertronian form, appear by walking out of the bookcase wall behind him. "Quinn's?" he questioned. "But how—"

"I copied Quinn's memories of this afternoon," Greasy said, never taking his eyes off the woman making her way across the room to the front door. His face was shadowed with sorrow. "We needed explanations about what happened, and it was the only way."

Optimus wasn't any less confused. Clearly, something very important had happened on the day this memory took place, but what? And what day? Why was Greasy still being so cryptic? "Greasy, when is this?" the Prime questioned.

Only then did the small Hybrid look away from Quinn and meet the Purebred's gaze with a meaningful one of his own. "August 1st, 1995."

Optimus swore his spark stopped. He looked away from Greasy to stare hauntedly at Quinn, who had now reached the door. "Hunter's birthday," he murmured, voice hardly above a whisper.

"Yes," Greasy affirmed, his eyes traveling back to Quinn as well. "Congratulations, Optimus Prime; you are about to witness what many spark-fathers never do: the birth of your spark-daughter."

Optimus' fuel tank churned with anxiety because Hunter's birth wasn't the only thing that had happened on this day. "Quinn…" he choked out then dropped off, unable to say anything further.

"Yes,' Greasy said again, voice weary and melancholic. "And the murder of her mother."

That caused Optimus to whip around and stare wde-opticed at Greasy again. Murder?! Quinn was supposed to have died in childbirth! "Greasy, what is this?" he demanded. "What are you doing?"

Greasy sighed heavily. "As I stated before, I've kept many things from you," he admitted, not looking away from Quinn. "Many things that you, as Hunter's spark-father, have a right to know. Yes, I was contracted to remain silent, but the fact remains that I made a choice to be bound and for that, I will always be guilty. But I refuse to be any more so now that I'm no longer bound. No more secrets; no more falsehoods; no more "necessary untruths". From now on, you will know everything Hunter knows—see everything she's seen. And it starts here."

Optimus turned back to Quinn as well, bewildered as ever as still wondering what exactly Greasy meant by the murder of Quinn. … Unless… that was what the little Hybrid had meant when he'd referenced what Ray and Luna had done to Hunter's mother. And if that was the case, the history there certainly was much darker and more sinister than the Prime had ever suspected.

The two mechs watched on as Quinn angled herself against the door so that her pregnant belly was out of the way so she could look through the peephole of the front door. Immediately her face became awash with fear and the young woman gasped sharply as she stumbled quickly away from the door before leaping forward again to quickly turn both locks. But even with them secured, she was still tense and obviously terrified as she began backing away. She moved slowly, trying not to make any noise. After a few steps, she began to turn away, preparing to head back into the house.

That was when a plume of magenta smoke appeared right in front of her, cutting off her exit. And in the next second, the smoke had clear to reveal—

"Luna!" Optimus couldn't help but growl savagely, his unadulterated hatred for the witch running deep. It took everything he had to not surge forward and swipe a blade through her. In the end, it was only the knowledge that this was nothing but a memory and that these were merely ghosts and shadows of people and things that had been that held him back. There was no point in wasting energy on a remembrance of Luna; he'd need it for when he had his hands on the real thing.

Quinn had frozen, staring with wide-eyed horror up at the sorceress. She didn't blink. She didn't speak. It looked like she wasn't even daring to breathe.

Luna, decked out in all the splendor that would only be Proper for the Mistress of the lunation to wear, stood there before the young woman, smiling in a sickeningly sweet way. On any other mother-in-law, it might have been a friendly and loving expression; Luna was not any other mother-in-law. "Hello, my dear," she greeted Quinn in a voice that was just as grossly saccharine. Her smile and tone became teasing as she continued: "did you really think you could keep me out with those locks?"

Quinn remained silent for a second, then she blinked as she came back to herself. "Well…' she stammered, "… I..." she dropped off, not sure what to say.

Luna chuckled and reached out to gently pat the human's pale cheek. 'oh, my dear child," she tutted patronizingly, "you are a silly little thing." With that, she turned away with a sweep of skirts and capes and practically floated further into the living room.

Quinn remained rooted to her spot, only her eyes following the monstrosity that had just invaded her home.

Optimus wanted nothing more than to go to the girl, his spark aching because he had a sense of what was going to happen here and because, dammit all, if that petrified look on her face wasn't Hunter's! Hunter's coloring may have been more a match to her father's, but her expressivity had definitely come from Quinn; because looking at Quinn now, like this, the Prime could see so much of his beloved Shooting Star in her face. And that just made everything hurt all the worse. He couldn't stand Hunter looking that scared—how could he be expected to stand it with Quinn?

Still smiling, Luna looked around the room. "Well," she sighed, "I must say you certainly have endeavored to make yourself a little home here, my dear. It's quite—" she reached out and fingered at a patch of fabric that had been sewed on to the top of a chair; the fabric didn't quite match the color and texture of the original textile, but it wasn't a distracting eyesore, however, Luna grimaced at it "—quaint. And Rustic. Not the sort of thing I'd expect Comet Thunder to be used to, considering where he grew up." The witch turned to smile at the human once more, looking her up and down, her raspberry eyes coming to linger on Quinn's large belly. "But it would seem as though my son is quite happy enough just with you," she added, meeting Quinn's eyes in a knowing way. "That's the simplistic beauty of our males; as long as their mate makes them happy, that's all they need to be satisfied." She chuckled as she moved towards Quinn and took the young woman's face between her hands. "But we females are a little bit more complex than that, aren't we, Darling? We need just a little bit more than that to make us happy." There seemed to be some kind of threat in Luna's tone; it wasn't overt, and it was more of a feeling, but there was definitely one there.

Quinn remained silent, just staring at the woman who held her face in her hands. The woman who could so easily pop her head like a grape should she feel the urge.

Luna pulled away and turned to move back into the living room again. "But I didn't come here to dither about the qualities of the sexes," she chirped, "I came here for a visit!" She spun back around to face Quinn once more, eyes again lingering on her middle. "And to congratulate you, of course," she said, offering a soft smile, maybe too soft. "I really wasn't able to at the baby shower, if you remember." A disgusted look creased Luna's brow for a moment. "I could have written, I suppose, but I've always been much more of a face-to-face interaction person—I think it makes everything much more personable, wouldn't you agree, Dear?" She didn't give Quinn a second to answer as she suddenly moved towards the doors of the living room that lead further into the house and peeked carefully through them. "Tell me, are you alone? That horrid, Lewis Carroll nightmare isn't here is she? Ech—horrible, deranged, mad woman! Why Comet Thunder ever befriended such a loose cannon is beyond me."

Luna turned to Quinn yet again, who still remained silent and still. "You're being awfully quiet, my dear," she remarked. "Is something wrong?"

Being directly asked a question seemed to be what Quinn needed to break out of her stupor because the woman blinked and finally found her voice: "Y-You're not supposed to be here."

Luna raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"You're not supposed to be here," Quinn repeated with more strength, though she still looked just as terrified as ever. "You're not supposed to be anywhere near me."

Luna smiled patronizingly at that and held out her arms, the elegant sleeves of her gown streaming dramatically. "And yet, here I am," she chortled.

"You need to leave," Quinn said deliberately, slowly. The frightened look on her face was slowly becoming one of determination and adamancy, though fear still shone in her light blue eyes.

Luna feigned a shocked expression. "Do I?" she gasped mockingly, pressing her hands to her cheeks. "Oh, dear."

"You're not welcome here," Quinn continued, sounding more assured and adamant. She had yet to move from her frozen position, however. "You weren't welcome at the shower—what on earth makes you think you're welcome here? When Wanda gets back from the store and finds you here—"

"Oh, I'm not too concerned about that," Luna stated with a dismissive wave of her hand as she moved towards the couch. "I've taken it upon myself to ensure that we have plenty of privacy while we have our little chat." The Lunation Mistress elegantly sat down on the sofa, looking as though she owned it. In fact, she looked as though she owned the whole room; and the rest of the house. Luna just usually looked like she owned everything within her general vicinity.

Smiling up at Quinn, Luna gently patted a spot on the sofa right next to her. "Come, come, my dear girl," she crooned in the syrupy voice again, "I don't bite."

"Not from what I've seen," Quinn muttered, hugging herself and shifting away from the witch even though the expanse of the room separated them.

Luna mocked a pout. "I'm afraid you saw me at my very worst last time, Dear," she lamented. "You can't blame me for that, I was insulted and backed into a corner; that can put anyone's back up. I'm usually much more… gentle and sedate than that."

"I believe Comet would beg to differ," Quinn challenged.

Luna smiled wryly. "I'm guessing Comet told you all of the horrible tales about what a cruel, monstrous witch I am?" she inquired.

Quinn said nothing, simply looked the sorceress up and down with a wary gaze.

"Well, I would advise you to pay little heed to whatever he told you, my dear," Luna dismissed. "At worst I was a strict mother whose only sin was trying to do whatever I could to protect my children; particularly my son, who unfortunately was never blessed with significant power in a world where such a blessing is needed." She offered a meaningful smile. "You'll soon learn yourself, the pain and struggle of motherhood, and what it takes to be a good mother."

Quinn's face hardened with those words, again reminding Optimus of Hunter. "Maybe," she conceded, "but I will be a good mother, unlike you."

Luna's painted lips twitched ever so slightly and something indiscernible flickered in her eyes. "Believe me, my dear," she murmured, "you should never make assertions about being a mother until you've actually become one." There was that sinister vibe in her tone again.

Quinn took a deep breath to steady herself. She held the witch's gaze, refusing to look away, refusing to allow Luna any more dominance than she already had. It was plain to see where Hunter had gotten her resolve.

"Now," Luna said, easily slipping back into the sweet, friendly manner that only ever seemed to be more frightening where she was concerned, "as I've said—come and sit. We'll have a little heart-to-heart mother-to-mother. I'm sure you've received advice from your own mother, but, let's face the facts, Darling; your mother isn't exactly a Hybrid is she? What could she possibly know about Hybrid children? They are a bit different to human babies, you know."

Quinn remained where she stood for a moment, looking Luna over, weighing the situation. Apparently, she decided there was no point in trying to defy the sorceress and that the better—in fact, safer—option would be to humor her and do as she was asked; because she began to walk towards the couch. Actually, it wasn't so much a walk as a begrudging trudge. When she reached it, she slowly sank down to sit on the opposite side of the couch, as far as she could be from Luna without causing offense.

Luna smiled and nodded approvingly. "Good," she purred. Then her raspberry eyes lit up. "Oh, silly me—I almost forgot!" Turning her attention to the little coffee table in front of them, the witch made an intricate little wave with her finger and a little cloud of smoke appeared over the tabletop. When it cleared away after a second there was a rather large vase holding a bouquet of brilliant scarlet flowers and a fancy silver tray carrying a tea set and a plate of cookies.

Quinn regarded the setup carefully, unsure of what to say or do.

Luna frowned as she noticed the human's expression. "Oh, dear," she murmured, sounding patronizing again. "I was under the impression poppies were your favorite flower—was I mistaken?"

"No," Quinn answered monotonously, still eyeing the flowers and tea and cookies. "They are my favorite. I just wasn't expecting you to bring anything."

Luna smiled again and tittered. "Well of course! This is the first time I've been to your home after all; what kind of guest would I be if I didn't bring a house-warming gift?"

That time Quinn looked at the Hybrid and forced a small smile. "I suppose you're right," she replied, voice still toneless.

"And the tea tray is yours to keep as well," Luna assured the young woman, reaching out to pat her knee in a motherly fashion. "I had it made specially for you by my United Kingdom sect. I know how you English love your tea, and it seems only right that an English girl has a proper English tea set, even if she is trapped in America." Luna reached for the teapot and began to pour out the steaming contents into the cups.

"I wouldn't say I'm trapped in America," Quinn stated, watching Luna's every move.

"No," Luna remarked, "of course not. I was merely being hyperbolic. You chose to come here, after all, to be with my son. It just seems a shame that you should be so far away from your own family, especially during such a time."

Quinn said nothing, but it was clear she didn't like Luna speaking of her family.

"Oh, but you're not quite without them all, are you?" Luna continued. Smiling back at Quinn for a brief second. "You have a cousin here with you, I believe?"

"Yes," Quinn answered that time, evidently deciding she should answer some questions if she wanted to keep the witch civil.

"Yes. And more of a brother than a cousin, I believe., considering he and his sister grew up with you. John is his name?"

The horror Quinn had managed to push down suddenly flashed into her eyes again. "H-How do you know all that?" she stammered quietly.

Luna looked back at Quinn with a sly smirk. "Oh, my sweet girl, I make it my business to know as much as I can where my children are concerned." With that, she turned back to the tea. "Milk? I know you typically like sugar but considering your condition…."

"Yes, Please," Quinn rasped, sounding numb. Evidently, the knowledge that Luna knew so much about her life—in fact, maybe even knew everything about it—had broken through the young woman's resolve and left her shaken to the core. But who could fault her for that?

Luna added the milk to Quinn's tea and then lifted the cup, offering it to her. "There you are, my dear," she chirped.

Quinn took the cup and stared blankly into it.

Luna turned back to the tray and grabbed the plate of cookies. "Cookie?" she offered, holding them out to Quinn. "Or, I suppose you refer to them as 'biscuits', don't you? I made them myself: chocolate chip—you're favorite."

Quinn looked like she was running on autopilot as she took one. "Thank you," she said dully. Then she sat there, holding her tea and her cookie and not doing anything else with them.

Luna gave her a rather hurt look. "Well, aren't you going to taste them?" she asked. "Or have my efforts gone to waste?"

Quinn's eyes flickered over to Luna and then back down to her tea and Cookie. Hesitantly, she raised the teacup to her lips and took a small sip. Then she took a nibble of her cookie.

"Well?" Luna asked expectantly.

Quinn nodded and forced a thin smile. "Very good," she whispered and took another sip of her tea as further proof of her claim. It was in her best interest—and her child's—that Luna remained in a good mood.

Luna beamed and happily clasped her hands together. "Oh, good! It's been a while since I've done anything in the kitchen, so my skills were a bit rusty. But I suppose once you learn something you never really forget it."

Quinn only smiled and nodded as she bit into her cookie again.

Luna finished making herself a cup of tea and sat back on the sofa, somehow looking relaxed and regal at once. She took a sip of her tea. "Mmm, it is rather good if I do say so myself." Balancing her teacup and saucer, the sorceress turned her undivided attention to Quinn once again, smiling in that creepy, motherly way once more. "Now, my dear," she said, "tell me: how much longer until—" her gaze fell to Quinn's middle and her voice dropped into a cooing tone "—this little one arrives?"

Quinn, who had been sipping at her tea again, froze, looking more uncomfortable than she ever had with any question prior to this one. If she didn't want Luna mentioning her family, she certainly didn't want the witch talking about her unborn child. "Um… w-well we're right around 26 weeks now—"

"Ah, that's right in-between "not much longer now" and "an eternity away"." Luna offered a sympathetic smile. "I started praying for an early delivery around that time, with both Comet Thunder and his sister."

"Oh, I'm not," Quinn said with feeling for the first time since Luna had started getting personal. Partial cookie still in hand, she touched her right hand to her belly and tenderly stroked it, looking down at it lovingly. "Being pregnant is no joy, of course, but I'm not ready to stop, and I won't be until she's ready to come—whenever that is. I want her to be as strong and healthy as she possibly can be. I'd wait two years if that's what it took for that to happen. … And then I'd make her suffer for making me wait that bloody long."

Luna's smile was soft. "Spoken like a true mother."

Apparently, Luna had found the key to getting Quinn to open up because now that she was discussing the baby, the young woman couldn't seem to stop talking (which would have been in her best interest). "My only fear right now is that she will come too early," Quinn confessed, still stroking her large bump. "Greasy's told me that Hybrid babies are often premature when the mother is human. I know that premature babies usually live and thrive just as well as full-term babies, and I'm sure Hybrid children are much, much stronger… but I still worry. I don't want her to come until she's ready—until she has her best chance." Quinn finally looked up and met Luna's gaze again, and for the first time, there wasn't fear in her eyes. At least not fear of Luna. The discussion of motherhood had tempered that dread for the time being. "I suppose that sounds stupid and silly," the human muttered sheepishly.

Luna shook her head, her smile still soft and understanding. "No," she assured the woman. "It makes perfect sense to a mother." She leaned forward a bit and touched Quinn's belly herself, an action which caused Quinn to go stiff and cause the fear to leap back into her eyes again. Luna didn't seem to notice, or if she did she didn't care. "Don't you worry, Quinn," she stated. "The baby is strong. When this little one comes into the world, she will be ready." The witch chuckled, and it sounded just the slightest bit sinister. "The only question will be if you are strong enough for the process."

That statement caused Quinn to look at Luna in confusion. She laughed a bit awkwardly. "Wh-Why do you say that?" she asked.

"Well, labor is difficult enough as it is for humans," Luna answered, still eyeing Quinn's belly, "and here you are about to give birth to a Hybrid child. And not just any Hybrid, but one of Malice lineage and a Chosen." That time, she looked up and met Quinn's gaze, her lips slightly twitching as if she were about to smirk. "Such prestigious attributes do not come without great risk and danger."

Quinn stared wordlessly into those dangerous, raspberry eyes, looking confused and wary at the same time. Then she gasped sharply, turning her attention to her abdomen again.

Luna looked delighted as she, too, turned back to Quinn's baby bump. "Was that…?"

Exhaling sharply, Quinn couldn't help the grin that parted her lips as she stroked a hand over her belly. "Yes!" She half-gasped, half-laughed. "That was a kick! That's her favorite pastime; I'm surprised I don't have bruises. Ooh!" Quinn's face distorted with discomfort that time and she tensed, slightly curling in on herself as she grabbed at the side of her stomach. "That one was a little harder than normal," she panted, still smiling, though her brows were furrowed. "Oh!" Quinn doubled up as she cringed and nearly slid off the couch, only catching herself by bracing a hand against the coffee table. What was left of her tea and cookie dropped from her hands and spilled unheeded on the carpet.

"Is something the matter?" Luna asked, not sounding or looking nearly alarmed enough by the scenario currently unrolling before her.

One hand braced on the table, another cradling her belly, Quinn breathed hard, trying to put into practice what she'd learned in Lamaze class; it was the only thing she could think of to maybe bear out the pain. She shook her head. "I-I don't know," she answered shakily. "I don't think so. Something's wrong. Something's very wrong. Oh, that last pain didn't feel like a kick! Ahhh!" Her body quickly tensing up again, Quinn squeezed her eyes shut and seemed to suck in on herself; the cords in her neck were visible and straining hard; her jaw was clenched tight as her face went red, the veins were popping out on her forehead; her grip on the table tightened, her nails biting into the wood; her other hand fisted her shirt into such a grip an audible tearing sound came from the cloth. Her agony was clear.

"Oh, god!" Quinn screamed as she gasped for breath when the wave of pain had passed. "Oh, god! Ahhh!" That time Quinn sank to the floor, both hands holding her belly as she came to rest semi-recumbent against the base of the sofa. Tears were already trickling down her flushed cheeks. "Wh-what's happening to me?!" she cried in absolute terror. "What's happening to me?! Ahhh!" She threw her head back and cringed into a small ball as another pain tore into her.

Optimus watched on in silent horror as he witnessed Quinn's already fairly large belly begin to expand and swell larger at an alarming rate. It was like something out of one of those horror movies Miko loved to watch so much! He half expected some sort of wretched, monstrous creature to come bursting from the woman's abdomen at any second. The Prime felt ill: He wanted to look away. But he could only stare and watch.

Evidently Quinn, even in her torment, had noticed her growing middle as well, because she suddenly turned wide, horror-stricken eyes upon Luna. "What have you done to me?!" she demanded. "You bloody, glorified Oz reject, what did you do?!" Sweat poured down her face and neck, soaking her shirt.

Luna simply inclined her head and smiled down at the young woman. "I told you didn't have to worry—that The baby would be ready to come into the world," she stated. "Now my tea and cookies have assured it. Congratulations, my dear Quinn; you're about to become a mother." Luna's self-satisfied smile turned very toothy and sinister as she leered down at her daughter-in-law. "Welcome to the ranks."

Quinn opened her mouth to say something but her body was wracked with another violent contraction and all she could do was scream.

Suddenly the front door exploded open, taking most of the doorframe with it. Everyone's gaze (save Quinn's as she was much more concerned with her internal struggle) flew in that direction to see… well, Optimus really wasn't sure what he was seeing. Whatever it was it somewhat resembled a human, but it didn't quite look enough like one to be classified as something more than humanoid. It was large—bigger than Optimus was in his current relationship to their surroundings—wearing black pants, a white coat, and a tall checker-board hat, and carrying a cane. Turning its grotesque, humanoid face in their direction, it fixed its bulging eyes on Luna.

Actually looking fearful, Luna immediately shot to her feet and backed away from the beast. Then it charged and she disappeared in a cloud of smoke, swearing an oath as she went.

"Quinn!" a woman's voice shouted from just outside. "Quinn!" A woman with dark, shoulder-length, feathered hair came charging into the room, looking frenzied. A Hybrid medallion gleamed against her chest above her red tube-top: Not just a woman—a femme. Spotting Quinn panting and groaning and cringing on the floor beneath the beast that was now standing guard over her, the femme rushed to her side. "What happened?!" she demanded. "Where's the hag?! I knew she was here when I couldn't get in the gate; I had to use Queenie and Hatter to get through the barriers! Goddammit, I shouldn't've left the house—I'm sorry, Quinn! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!

"She did something to me!" Quinn gasped. "She did something to speed up my pregnancy! Ugh!" She trembled and tensed up with another contraction. "Said it was in the tea and biscuits! Never should've taken them! OH, BLOODY HELL—GET THIS THING OUTTA ME!"

The dark-haired woman had calmed herself, but only to the point she was now in a controlled panic, her face pale, emerald eyes wide and harried. "Okay," she murmured, voice small. "Okay, let's-Let's get you up the stairs and into bed. I'll call the boys." She began to help Quinn to her feet. "Thanks, Hatter," she said, addressing the large humanoid, "but it's time for you to go now." What looked like a rabbit hole appeared beneath the creature, and the Hatter disappeared down into it only for the hole to close up, as if it had never been there to begin with.

"Ahhh! You're gonna have to carry me, Wanda," Quinn panted.

"Done." The femme, Wanda evidently, Easily scooped Quinn up bridal style and hurried out of the living room. "Sorry about the front door."

"Ugh, why the fuck would I care about an ugly-arse old door at a time like this—my uterus is killing me! OhHolyMotherMaryChristinHeaven!"

Optimus and Greasy followed after the women, stopping at the bottom of the stairs and watching them disappear above, Quinn's screams still ringing out. Then everything around them turned to a mist-filled black.

"You'll be seeing Comet Thunder's memories from here," Greasy informed the Prime. "I suggest you prepare yourself; what you're about to see will not be pretty."

The bloodcurdling sound of screaming—Quinn's screaming—echoed through the air before the visuals of the memory even took form. When they finally did, Optimus and Greasy were standing in a bedroom that was just as eclectic and homey as the living room had been. Or, at least, it would have been without the palpable tension and fear in the air and scene by the bed where Quinn was currently laying. If "laying" was the right term for that position.

Greasy was moving towards the bed. "Unless you want an anatomy lesson of the organic female," the old Hybrid said, "follow me."

Optimus did as Greasy suggested, but he never took his eyes off the memory, despite the warning. Quinn looked more haggard than ever, covered in sweat, red-faced, now dressed in a loose, light nightgown that was already almost sweated through. Comet Thunder was beside her on the bed, holding her, supporting her, speaking comfort into her ear.

Optimus stared intently at the mech. It wasn't the first time he'd ever seen Comet, of course, but it was the first time he'd seen Comet like this—almost like he was actually there in the same room. And alive. He was bigger than he'd looked in the home video—not nearly as tall as Optimus' holoform, but at least six-and-a-half feet, and well-muscled. It was as easy to see where Hunter got her size as it was her eyes and hair.

"No!" Quinn panted, clutching at her stomach. tears trickled down her face as she wearily leaned into her husband. "I can't-Can't have the baby now! It's too soon! Too soon! W-We're not ready!"

Wanda, who was currently dipping a cloth into a bowl of water, looked over with a grave face. "Don't really have a choice anymore, Red," she stated. wringing out the cloth, she brought it back to the bed and leaned across, pressing it to Quinn's face to try and help cool her. "The old crone made sure of that."

"It's all right," Comet tried to reassure his wife, pulling her closer. He looked down and met her eyes, sapphire looking into crystal blue, and smiled gently. "It's gonna be okay. It's just a little earlier than we expected that's all. We'll manage, Brit." Despite his calm smile and words, it was clear to see that Comet was just as terrified as Quinn was; or at least it was clear to Optimus that he was.

Quinn seemed to be at least a little comforted by his words because her lips quivered into a tiny smile. "One thing's for sure," she remarked, a hint of wit in her tone, "that's the last time I ever eat or drink anything offered by your mother. Ahhh-ha-ah!" Quinn curled in on herself, leaning heavily into her husband's embrace as another contraction overpowered her.

Comet and Wanda shared a worried gaze over Quinn's head.

"I can't do this!" Quinn wailed, slumping with exhaustion as the contraction passed. "I can't do this! I'm just a human; I'm not strong enough to do this!"

At that, Wanda reached over and took the redhead's chin in her grip, forcing Quinn to look over at her. She gave the human a hard, commanding stare. "Yes, you can," she stated firmly. "You are Quinn James; the woman who kept herself and her backpacking group alive for three days after getting lost; the woman who stood up to her psycho ex and didn't take any of his shit when she kicked him to the curb; the woman who stayed beside this guy—" Wanda jerked her head in Comet's direction "—even after she found out about the shit show that'd come with him; and, most impressive of all, the woman that stood her ground against me and told me to get my shit together or she'd park her foot in my ass—you still owe me royalties for using my catchphrase, by the way." Cracking a small smile, Wanda let go of Quinn's chin and reached down to take up one of her hands. "I know this is hard," she said, her voice softer now, more understanding. "And I know it's scary as fuck. Hell, Nobody knows that better than me—I had goddamn twins! And I know it's early and you're not ready, but you can do this. You are strong enough to do this, You can do this, Quinn. I know you can."

Quinn held Wanda's gaze for a moment before she was thrown into another painful contraction.

Apparently, Comet Thunder was beginning to reach the end of his emotional control, because he lifted his head and bellowed out: "Greasy! Where the fucking hell are you?!"

"Comet!" Wanda snapped, glaring at him. "Get a grip! The last thing Quinn needs right now is for you to start losing it! Positive, Supportive vibes only!"

"WOULD YOU TWO SHUT THE FUCK UP?!" Quinn screamed. "I'm the one in labor here—I AM THE ONLY ONE WHO'S ALLOWED TO YELL RIGHT NOW! Ahhhh-ahhh! Oh, bollocks—where the bloody hell IS GREASY?! AHHHHH!"

"Breathe, young ones," a familiar voice sounded out, "I'm here."

Optimus shifted his gaze from the bed to the bedroom door to see Greasy—version 1995. Truthfully, version 1995 looked much like current year Greasy, except with a few fewer wrinkles in his face and maybe slightly darker in hair and beard.

""Breathe"," Quinn repeated him, glaring at the old Hybrid. ""Breathe"! You try breathing while an angry Hybrid baby tries to tear its way out of your uterus! AHHHH—MOTHEROFGOD!"

Greasy chuckled warmly as he moved towards the bed. "Well, she won't be doing that for much longer," he assured the human, giving a comforting pat to her knee. "So, again, breathe, Quinn. Just breathe." Then the little man turned to Comet and addressed him: "Come with me, Son. Help an old mech carry the necessities for your mate." And with that said, Greasy walked away from the bed and back out of the room.

Comet looked between his spark-father and his wife in some dismay. He kissed Quinn's forehead lovingly and promised he'd be back quickly before passing her over to Wanda for support and following after Greasy.

The memory changed into a mist-filled void again but took on form again much more quickly than it had the first time. When it did, Optimus found he and current-year Greasy were now standing just outside the door of a bathroom, looking in on Comet and past Greasy deep in intense conversation.

"No offense, Greasy, but no shit," Comet was hissing as he scowled at the smaller man. "Kinda obvious this isn't exactly the best situation right now. We were nowhere near ready for the baby to come and now she's on the way!"

"Comet, it's worse than that," Greasy retorted firmly, his face grave and commanding attention and understanding. "It could potentially be much worse."

Comet became quiet at that, his face shadowed with guarded worry. "What do you mean?" he asked quietly. There was an imperceptible tremble in his voice.

"The changes a woman's body goes through from five months of pregnancy to nine months of pregnancy are drastic," Greasy explained. "in having her pregnancy sped up, Quinn's body hasn't had the necessary time to adjust to those changes. Couple that with the trauma of birth, it would be dangerous for a Hybrid female to endure, much less a human."

The fear on Comet's face wasn't constrained now, and there looked to be a slight sheen to his sapphire eyes. Pressing his lips into a thin line, the redheaded man gulped and shook his head. "Greasy," he croaked after a moment, "please tell me you're not saying what I think you are."

The little old Hybrid only looked sadly and wearily up at the father-to-be as he slowly shook his head. "I'm sorry, Comet Thunder," he murmured dejectedly, "but you need to prepare yourself for the possibility that Quinn might not survive this."

Comet released a shuddering breath as he took a step back from Greasy and turned away. He braced his hands on the counter, leaned heavily against it as though he no longer had the strength to hold himself up, and hung his head. His broad shoulders began shaking. "Quinn…" Comet choked, "… she's the love of my life, Greasy. I always knew I wouldn't have her for long, but this..." Comet buried his face in his hands and was quiet for a long moment. "I can't lose her Greasy," he whispered after a moment. "I can't lose Quinn—not now. I can't raise this baby on my own; she's gonna need her mother." The red-haired man lifted his face and turned to look at Greasy. "There has to be a chance, right?" he asked, voice trembling. "You gotta tell me there's a chance Quinn's gonna be all right."

Past-Greasy remained quiet as he looked at Comet. You could see in his eyes he was weighing his options, trying to decide what he should say or if he should even say anything at all. Finally, he came to a decision. With a heavy sigh, the old Hybrid said, "If she survives the birthing, there's a chance Quinn could live. But even that isn't guaranteed."

An agonized scream came from down the hall.

"Quinn!" Comet leaped out into the hall, passing through Optimus and Greasy like a ghost.

"Greasy! Comet!" Down the hall Wanda had stepped out of the bedroom where Quinn resided, her face serious and intense. "The baby's breech—she's coming backwards!" And with that exclamation, Wanda disappeared back into the bedroom where Quinn was continuing to cry out.

"Comet! Grab the towels!" past-Greasy ordered. "I'll go get the water." With that he disappeared out of the bathroom, leaving Comet to snatch up a stack of towels and bound back down the hall.

Again the memory dissipated into darkness and mist, but the voices of the memory's inhabitants echoed through the void around them.

"AAAHHH!"

"Breathe, Red. Breathe."

"You can do this, Sweetheart. She's coming—you can do this!"

"Push, Quinn, push! You have to push! She's almost here but she's backwards; she can't get here by herself—you gotta help her, Darlin'. Push! Harder!"

"Ahhh—I can't! I'm sorry—I can't!"

"Yes, you can. Remember what I told you? You are strong enough to do this—now push!"

"Ahhhhh!"

"You got this, Babe! Push!"

"Harder, Quinn! She's almost here! Push hard!"

Again Qunn's scream echoed around them, but this time it faded off into the unmistakable cry of a baby.

Optimus felt something clench inside his chest. Hunter…. He was about to see his newly sparked spark-daughter!

Again the memory took form, and, again, Optimus and Greasy were standing back in the bedroom. They stood at the foot of the bed, once more, watching as an even more haggard but glowing Quinn and a shaken yet relieved looking Comet sat cuddled together on the mattress, gazing down at a little white bundle that Quinn cradled to her chest. Past-Greasy stood next to Comet, looking even more relieved than his spark-son did. Wanda sat on the edge of the bed next to Quinn, grinning from ear to ear as she looked back and forth between the couple and the little bundle as well. The little bundle in question, as it happened, was currently making little squealing and gurgling and cooing sounds and they were some of the sweetest noises Optimus Prime believed he'd ever heard.

Without even realizing it, the Prime was plodding forward, walking through the bed as if he were walking through fog. His gaze remained ever on the blanket held in Quinn's arms. Memory or not, this was the only chance he would ever have to see Hunter like this—to see his spark-daughter at the moment of her birth. That chance was too miraculous to pass up; the urge far too irresistible to ignore.

Coming to a standstill before Quinn, Optimus looked down into the bundle and his spark utterly melted. "Hunter…" he croaked out, his optics stinging ever so slightly. His beloved Hunter—she was so small! She almost looked like she'd easily fit into one of his servos! And being partly organic so looked so different to Purebred sparklings: so delicate in all her soft, fleshy pinkness. She was so precious: Optimus wished more than anything he actually could reach out and hold her close. Hold her close and never let her go.

As it was, it looked like Quinn was feeling much the same way; She was almost nose to nose with her daughter as she cradled the child rocking her ever so slightly. Tears were trickling down the woman's sweat-sheened face. Her lips were parted by a grin so large it almost looked like a grimace. "Hello," Quinn cooed softly at her baby. "Hello, Baby Girl. I'm your Mummy. Yes, I am—I'm your mummy. And I'm so happy to finally meet you. I love you so much." Sniffling, Quinn just barely pressed her lips to the baby's head in a kiss. The baby batted her sapphire eyes and almost seemed to smile in response as she let out an adorable gurgling squeak and flailed out a teeny-tiny pink hand, brushing the fingers against her mother's cheek.

"We both love you so much," Comet added. He leaned in closer to kiss his daughter as well. Then he looked to his wife and kissed her, sweetly, lingeringly on the lips. "You did so good, Brit," he praised her, planting another kiss on her forehead. "So good." He met Quinn's gaze and his eyes were shining with tears. "You got our girl here."

Quinn gave him a tired smile. "Not without a lot of help," she said quietly, looking down the bed to Greasy.

"You did all the hard work, Darlin'," past-Greasy retorted. He smiled up at the happy family. "All this old codger did was coach you along."

"No wonder you had heartburn as bad as you did, Red," Wanda remarked with a wry smirk as she eyed the baby in Quinn's grasp. "Damn! Look at all that hair!" Reaching out, the femme gently ran her fingers over the dark, messy swirls matted with wetness to the child's scalp. "You went and squirted out Rapunzel!"

With a disgusted expression and groan, Quinn finally looked away from her child and over to Wanda. "Could you please not say it like that? It's disgusting."

Wanda smirked wickedly. "You're right," she said, "it is disgusting. And not nearly as fun as the squirting that got us here in the first place."

Quinn's face flushed redder and Comet looked like a beet. "Wanda!"

Wanda's only response was to burst into unapologetic laughter.

Suddenly there was a knock on the bedroom door and it squeaked open. A brown-haired, hazel-eyed, smiling man peeked around into the room. "Hello," he greeted, speaking in the same accent Quinn spoke in. "All the screaming's stopped, and there are a couple little munchkins out here wondering if that means the baby's here."

Smiling lovingly, Wanda stood up from the bed and made her way towards the man to kiss his cheek. "It does," she answered, looking a little beyond him out into the hall. "You two wanna see the baby?" she cooed softly.

"Is it all right?" the brown-haired man asked, addressing the couple on the bed.

"Of course it is, John," Quinn assured him with a tired smile.

"Her whole family was here for her birth, she might as well meet everyone," Comet added.

"Come on, Girls," Wanda murmured, disappearing behind the door. "Come on. It's okay—you can come in now." When she reappeared, Wanda was accompanied by a pair of dark-haired little girls who looked no more than two years old. The child holding Wanda's right hand was trying to hide behind her mother's leg, peeking out shyly. The other girl holding Wanda's left hand seemed a bit more confident, standing square-shouldered and looking up intently at the bundle in Quinn's arms with wide, curious green eyes that matched Wanda's.

Quinn and Comet smiled welcomingly at the girls. "Hey, Ankle-biters," Comet greeted affectionately. "You wanna come meet your new little cousin?"

The girls remained silent but looked up at their mother.

Wanda smiled. "It's okay," she assured them. She pulled her hands out of theirs and gave them gentle nudges forward. "Go on."

The more confident of the girls looked back towards Quinn and Comet and seemed to be in quiet contemplation for a moment before uncertainly, but surely, moving towards the bed and clambering up onto it. Her more timid sister took one more look at the couple before turning back around and approaching her father, tiny arms outreached to him.

John chuckled and crouched down to her. "All right, Lizzie," he murmured, "I gotcha. Come here." Sweeping her up in his arms, the man settled the child on his hip and carried her forward until he was standing beside the bed where they could look down on Quinn.

Quinn smiled at the girls. "Lizzie, Alice," she said, "this is your new baby cousin." She angled the blanket so that the girls could see the pink, fleshy face of the baby swaddled within.

Alice and Lizzie's eyes stared as if enraptured. "Thhe wittwe!" Lizzie squeaked around the thumb in her mouth.

"She is, isn't she?" John crooned, smiling at his daughter.

"You two used to be that size not too long ago," Wanda remarked, joining them at the bedside.

"See winkwy," Alice said, her nose scrunching up a bit in disgust. "'n Skisy."

"Alice, shh, be kind," Wanda gently admonished the girl

Quinn and Comet just laughed at the comments. "She does look wrinkly and squishy doesn't she?" Comet chuckled. "Kinda like a little, pink blob."

Quinn looked at him with a scowl that was only half-joking. "You dare to call this beautiful child that I grew with my body and birthed from my body a "blob"?"

Her husband smiled teasingly. "Yes," he answered. "But she's a very cute blob." He pecked a kiss to Quinn's nose.

"Auntie Quinn, you tummy gone!" Lizzie exclaimed. She was struggling to get out of her father's grip and join her sister on the bed now.

"That's right, Lizzie," Quinn said. "My tummy is gone. Do you know why it's gone?"

Both Lizzie and Alice shook their heads, attention fully on their Auntie Quinn.

"I had the baby," Quinn explained. "the baby used to be in my tummy, and that's why it was so big; but now the baby isn't in my tummy anymore, so my tummy isn't big anymore. So now my tummy's gone."

"Speaking of the Baby," John cut in, smirking at the red-haired woman, "do we actually have a name for the twerp? 'Cuz if we keep calling her "The Baby" I'm gonna drive out my bloody skull."

"And what if I told you "The Baby" was her name?" Quinn shot back at her cousin, giving him a playful scowl.

"I don't think so," John snorted, reaching out to slightly ruffle her already messy hair. "You're the marrying-an-alien type of new age, not the naming-your-kid-but-not-really-naming-your-kid type of new age."

"Ha-ha," Quinn snipped, shaking his hand away. Then she turned to her husband. "Yes, the baby has a name," she said. "We've had it picked out for a long time now—ever since we found out she was a girl."

Comet smiled at her and pressed one more kiss to her temple before looking around at everyone. "Everybody," he said, looking back down at the baby in Quinn's arms, "we'd like you all to meet Huntress Starstreaker James."

All at once, the memory changed again, dissolving into that mist-filled void that was quite familiar by now, before reforming again. Once more they were in the bedroom, but the atmosphere had drastically changed. Instead of the warm, loving, familial ambiance that they had just been surrounded by, there was now a dark, ominous, frantic, and fearful one. Quinn was still upon the bed, but she was no longer holding Hunter (Hunter was nowhere in sight when it came to that) and was now laying there in obvious distress.

Quinn looked worse than she had when she'd been in labor: completely drenched in sweat so that her hair matted to her face and neck; face an alarming shade of red; breathing shallow and frantic; eyes unseeing and panicky as her gazed passed frantically around the room. "Gotta get up," she was muttering to herself. "Gotta go. Where am I? What is this place? This isn't home—this isn't home!" Her tone was becoming more agitated as she continued mumbling. She thrashed out, trying to rise.

Comet was right there, next to her, bent over her, watching her in dismay. The fear that had shown on his face earlier in the dream was nothing to the fear shown there now: This wasn't just a man fearing for this wife anymore; this was a man that was literally watching his worst nightmare come to life. "It is home, Brit," he murmured, trying to reassure the woman. "It's home. You're safe." He reached for her.

That only seemed to alarm Quinn more. "Don't touch me!" she shrieked, thrashing at him to back him off. "I don't know you! This isn't home! I have to go home!"

Comet looked heartbroken as well as terrified now. "It is home, my love," he assured her. "Don't you remember, Brit? Don't you remember me? It's Comet, Brit. It's Comet."

Quinn obviously wasn't listening, as she was back to murmuring to herself in quiet but panicked tones.

"Can you hear me, Love?" Comet practically implored his wife. "Please think. Please think and try and remember, Darling." With a shaking voice, the mech sounded like his very soul was about to shatter.

At that point, the door of the bedroom, which was already partially open, swung even wider as Greasy, Wanda, and John all came rushing into the room. John led in the others as he rushed to his cousin's bedside. "Quinn!"

Seeing everyone else rush only seemed to disturb Quinn all the more because she suddenly looked more frightened than ever. "I-I have to get up!" Quinn exclaimed. "I have to get out of here! I have to go home! Go home!" She tried to rise but Comet gently held her down.

"No, my darling, no," Comet said. "You have to rest—you need to rest, Quinn. Just rest."

All at once Quinn stopped trying to rise and almost threw herself back into the bed, eyes screwed tightly shut. She was in obvious misery. "My head!" the woman practically sobbed. "My head!" She raised both her fists and desperately pounded them against her forehead, as if that would somehow stop the pain. "It hurts! My head—it hurts!"

Both Comet and John were grabbing at Quinn's fists to stop her from hitting herself. Blood was already trickling on her forehead from where the diamond of her engagement ring had cut her. Both men were begging her to stop.

"Wh-what's happening?" Wanda stammered. For once, the femme looked completely lost and horrified as she stood completely useless and helpless off to the side. She watched on with eye the size of dinner plates. "What can we do?"

"Nothing," Greasy said. His voice was heavy, sad, and final as he watched on. Tears glistened in his dark eyes. "There's nothing to be done now."

All of a sudden, Quinn's cries became choked and then silent altogether. She went rigid, arching up off the bed at a painful angle, all of the muscles and veins and cords in her neck straining to the point it looked as though they would burst through her flesh.

"Oh, Primus, no!" Comet screamed, his voice breaking.

"Quinn!" John yelled, shaking her. "Quinn!"

If it were possible, Wanda looked even more horrified. Her gaze whipped from the commotion on the bed to Greasy. She looked desperate to ask him for advice, but it was clear from Greasy's expression that he had none to give—that, as he'd already stated, nothing could be done—so she stayed quiet.

"She's having trouble breathing!" John exclaimed.

"Breathe, Quinn, Breathe!" Comet was pleading with his seizing wife. He cradled the back of her head in his large hand and held her head up to try and help her get air into her lungs. "Please, Love, breathe! That's all you need to do right now, Darling—breathe! Please, baby, breathe for me! I'm begging you—just breathe!"

For a moment Quinn's body slackened a bit from its painfully rigid posture and she gasped desperately, instinctively trying to reflate her lungs. Even then she didn't seem to be getting anything from the effort. Then she was thrown into another seizure, more terrible than the last.

Comet was crying now. "Primus, no, please!"

"She can't breathe!" John shouted.

Wanda had turned away from the scene now, a hand pressed over her mouth like she was about to be sick. She looked pale as she leaned heavily against the large chest of drawers. Her cheeks glistened with tears.

"What's happening?! Somebody help her! Greasy—anybody!—Help her, please! WHAT'S HAPPENING?! Breathe, Love, breathe! PLEASE, BREATHE!"

"She can't breathe! She's not breathing! SHE'S NOT BREATHING!"

Without warning, Quinn once again went completely slack, slumping into the bed so that her face was turned into the pillow. Either Comet or John—the chaos and drama made it easy to lose track of whose hands were whose—lifted her face up out of the pillow, and when they did the change in Quinn's appearance was ice-numbingly startling. Her complexion—which had been bright red only moments before—was now deathly pale. Her eyes were open but glassy, lifeless, dead. Dead. Quinn James was dead.

Upon seeing his cousin's face, John became silent and still. Slowly, almost as if in a daze, he pulled back and backed away from the bed, stopping on when Wanda came forward and caught him in an embrace from behind. Then he just stood there, staring in disbelief. Wanda buried her face in the back of his shoulder.

For a moment Comet stared in horror at his wife's face. But then he was moving, acting, grabbing Quinn up, and moving her off the bed to the floor. "No," he said, voice firm and resolute even as the tears streamed down his face. "No. You're not leaving me. You're not leaving me. Come on!" Layering one hand over the other, he knelt beside the woman, pressed the heels of his palms to her chest, and began compressions—hard, fast, desperate compressions. "You're not leaving me!" he kept chanting as he watched her face. "You're not leavin' me, Brit! Come on!" He stopped compressions and pressed his lips to hers, blowing into her mouth. After a few seconds, he resumed compressions. "Come on! Breathe, Darling! Breathe!" Quinn's ribs gave a series of sharp crackles and pops as they cracked and broke under her husband's desperate CPR attempt, but Comet paid no heed and didn't stop. But it was clear to see he was losing composure.

At this point, Greasy stepped forward. "Comet Thunder," he said, voice toneless. "Stop." He reached out and put a hand on the young Hybrid's shoulder. "Stop."

Comet wasn't listening. "Don't leave me!" he pleaded. "Don't leave me, Quinn! You can't leave me!" Giving up on the CPR, Comet once again picked up his wife, cradling her to him, and gazed brokenly into her dead stare. "Please don't leave me! Please, don't leave me, Love!" He pressed his lips to hers again in frantic kisses, as if that would snap her out of it; as if that would wake her up like she was only in a deep sleep or stupor. Nothing happened. "come back to me! Come back to me, Brit! Please come back to me! I need you! I need you—the baby needs you! Please don't leave me! Please, please, please!" Comet clutched Quinn's limp form to him, burying his face in her hair as he finally broke and gave into his grief. He wailed, incoherent, inconsolable: His mate—the mother of his newborn child—the absolute love and light of his life—was gone forever.

Optimus stood frozen, unable to tear his gaze away from the utterly spark-wrenching scene. He hardly knew any of them, but regardless, his spark ached for the people in this memory: Greasy, John and Wanda, Comet Thunder, Hunter.

As if to punctuate the sorrow, The cry of baby Hunter suddenly came from down the hall. It had a clear effect on everyone in the room, as their expressions of heartbreak became mixed with pity. Hunter cried for a mother who was no longer there and would never be there again. Poor little girl….

And the cries suddenly quieted and stopped and silence reigned down the hall. An almost eerie silence. Then they heard it: the sound of a woman humming a lullaby.

Comet froze and went rigid for a moment. Then he was rocketing to his feet, letting his wife's body thump to the floor, and streaking out of the room. "Hunter!"

Everyone else followed after him, including Optimus, his instincts forcing him to join them. That was his little girl down the hall, and memory or not, he would go to her.

Comet was throwing himself against the door to the room next door, practically splintering the thing off its hinges. "Get away from her!"

There was a bright, purplish flash and everyone was frozen, stock-still like statues.

"Shh," a familiar voice came from within the room. "I've just finished calming her down."

Optimus looked over the heads of the frozen group in front of him and was immediately filled with anger, his body instinctively tensing for battle. Luna!

The witch was standing beside a crib in the room, holding and rocking a familiar white bundle: Hunter! As she hummed and gazed at the child, Luna stalked towards the group. "She's such a sweet child," Luna murmured as she approached Comet. "She reminds me so much of you at this age." The witch looked up at her son, a rather sadistic glint in her raspberry eyes.

Comet's jaw clenched, his neck muscles bulged, the veins in his forehead stood out, and his eyes burned with pain and rage and desperation. He was trying to fight—He was trying to save his daughter, but he couldn't move! his mother's spell held him fast in place.

Luna smiled patronizingly at her son. "I can see you have something to wish to say," she said. "I know our talks of late haven't exactly been the more cordial, but seeing as this is a happy occasion…." She made a delicate wave of her finger, just barely lifting it off Hunter's blanket.

"I'll kill you!" Comet hissed savagely, his voice now released. "You twisted, evil, psychotic witch, I'll kill you! Get your hands off my daughter!"

Luna feigned a hurt expression. "Oh, Comet," she lamented. "That's not a very nice thing to say to your mother, don't you think?"

"You're not my mother—You sparked me, that's all!"

"And bathed you and fed you and clothed you and taught you and protected you and—"

"You killed my wife!" Comet roared. "Quinn is dead because of you!"

Luna looked completely unconcerned by this announcement. "Oh," she said. "Really? Hmm." She turned her complete attention back to the baby.

"That's all you have to say?" Comet asked, in some disbelief. "My mate—the mother of your grandchild—is dead because of you, and you don't even have the decency to admit to what you've done?"

Luna turned to her son again, still looking unfazed. "I understand that you're upset, Comet Thunder," she said patiently. "But I assure you that Quinn's death was never my intention."

"It doesn't matter if you intended it or not it happened! She's dead because of you! The love of my life is dead because of you! Huntress is motherless because of you!"

Luna's eyes suddenly sparkled with interest. "Huntress," she repeated, saying the name as though she were tasting and savoring it on her tongue. "What a lovely name." She looked back at the babe. "Huntress. Huntress…."

Comet turned pale, the fire in his eyes replaced with dread. "You can't take her," he croaked, sounding helpless. "You can't take her from me—I won't let you."

Luna slowly looked back at her son, a sick, self-satisfied smile curling her painted lips. "And who's going to stop me?" she asked, her voice taunting, "Because we both certainly know it won't be you." And with that, Luna disappeared in a pillar of magenta smoke, taking precious baby Hunter with her.

No sooner had the witch disappeared than whatever freezing spell she'd put on everyone broke. "NOOOO!" Comet screamed as he barreled into the side of the now-empty crib, unintentionally splintering it with his force. "Luna! Come back! You can't take her! You can't take her! Hunter! HUNTER!" With that, the large man collapsed to the floor amid the shattered remains of the crib and wailed in complete anguish, looking small and broken—very small and broken indeed.

The memory once again dissipated into mist and darkness and, this time did not reform itself. Greasy disappeared—fading away into the darkness, and Optimus himself felt as though he were waking from a dream; only he was completely aware that everything he'd just seen was not a dream at all, but memories of events—horrible, terrible, tragic events—that had in fact happened. And Hunter had seen and was aware of them, too.

---

Optimus opened his optics to find himself in a brightly, and warmly lit room. He squinted, half at the light and half at the very much present ache at the back of his helm. Groaning, he slowly sat up to find he was laying on a medical berth in a med-bay. He must have been transferred here after he blacked out. Wincing and hissing in a vent through his denta, the Prime reached back and tenderly massaged his aching head.

"I imagine would have more than a bit of a headache, considering the hit you took on that wall."

Optimus looked up and over to see Greasy sitting in a titan-sized chair across the room. "How long have I been unconscious?"

The little Hybrid shrugged. "Not more than an hour."

Nodding, Optimus looked around the room again to find only he and Greasy were in it. "Greasy, where's Hunter?" he asked, turning back to the old mech. "I saw her before I was knocked unconscious. She was right in front of me."

Greasy sadly shook his head. "No, she wasn't," he said. "At least, not physically. Something happened to you down the in the cell, Prime; you're optics clouded over and you began speaking and acting like you were somewhere else. I suspect Luna must have spelled you—transferred your consciousness to a different plain to do something to you and Hunter. Mentally you may have been with Hunter, Optimus, but physically you were always here in the Council Building: But Hunter was never here."

Optimus was silent for a moment, letting that information sink in. "So… she was never really within my reach," he murmured, more so to himself than Greasy.

"No," Greasy agreed mournfully. "I don't believe she ever was. I'm sorry, Prime."

Optimus was quiet again, as a mix of emotions washed over him with this revelation. He wasn't sure if it made him feel bad or worse about the situation. On the one hand, he hadn't failed Hunter again by not being able to reach her because he never would have been able to reach her anyway—at least not physically. On the other hand, it just meant Hunter was still alone in the hands of that maniac, far away from him and getting farther by the sparkbeat. She'd been taken from him: snatched away from the people who loved her by Luna yet again.

"What happened after Luna took Hunter?" The question slipped out before Optimus really even knew he'd thought it. "What happened after that first time?" He looked at Greasy expectantly.

They Hybrid met the Purebred's optics unflinchingly. "We hunted," he answered. "The entire Hybrid world hunted for two weeks because the High Council agreed that, because this was a potential Fuser, every Hybrid that was ready and willing to look should be made known of the birth and abduction and know what to search for. Every last member of the Hybrid military was deployed, and every continent, country, and island was scoured.

"The human governments were alerted and informed to be on the lookout as well. Of course, we couldn't reveal ourselves to the human world as a whole, but had it been at all possible to do that, I've no doubt it would have been done as well.

"Because of his Omega-level power status, Comet Thunder had always been kept on the outs of many things that dealt with the Lunation, including the location of all the estates. But, growing up, he had been able to sneak bits of information and knew a handful of the locations, so we stormed every one he knew of. We were very lucky that the cult was stationed at one of them at that time. We raided the estate and Luna and many of her members managed to escape, but we got Hunter back, and at that time that was all we were looking to do."

"And then Comet Thunder took Hunter and went into hiding," Optimus surmised.

Greasy nodded. "He contacted Quinn's family, told them that there had been complications with the birth, that Quinn and the baby had both died, and John and Wanda were sworn to the same secrecy. The Kendalls' lives couldn't be risked by letting them know anything that had really happened. After the funeral, Comet when on the run, always moving, never staying in one place too long, only ever letting me and Ananias and John and Wanda know where he was or was going. He knew Luna would always be looking for Hunter, and he was right, too; Luna got damn close a couple times."

"And finally it was one time too many," Optimus guessed.

Another nod. "It was a long and difficult decision, but eventually Comet and I came to the agreement that Hunter would be safer away from him, and then she'd be even safer if she could continue to keep moving from place to place. You know the rest."

The mechs grew silent for a moment.

Optimus finally broke it, voice low and soft: "Greasy, you said… that I would know everything Hunter knows—see everything she has seen." Slowly, the mech turned his head to look at the old Hybrid once again, who in turn was looking back at him. Optimus felt a horrid chill settle over him, terrified to know the answer of what he was about to ask, but wanting and needing to know it at the same time: "Hunter… she knows this? She's seen what you've shown me? She's seen those memories—watched her mother's demise?"

The sorrowful look on Greasy's face and the way he averted his gaze as he hung his head was all the answer Optimus needed.

"... When?" Optimus' voice was choked and hoarse, a definite tenseness in it.

"When we pulled Hunter out. Ananias wanted to sway Hunter from Luna's influence once and for all so that she'd be willing to fight the witch. I never wanted that—I just wanted Hunter out and safe away from Luna; She was too young to be thrown into the battle—powers or not. But, unbeknownst to me until it was too late, Ananias went against my wishes. … I suppose in the end it did accomplish what he wanted. But at an unfortunate cost."

As if his spark hadn't already sunk into the ground, Optimus felt his drop lower into the pit. Hunter would have been eleven years old at the most at that time; just a little girl. A little girl that had already had enough trauma to deal with by then, let alone adding this knowledge on top of it. There were many things she should never have had to go through, but this was probably the worst offender of them all. And to show it to her in order make her angry enough to go after Luna? The more he heard about Ananias, the more and more Optimus was coming to the conclusion that the High Councilman saw people merely as tools and weapons as opposed to actual beings.

"The truth of the matter is, Optimus," Greasy sighed heavily, "with all of the trauma she is going to experience and re-experience, Hunter is going to be a very different girl than the one you've come to love when this is all said and done—angrier, darker, more damaged. You should prepare yourself for the prospect that you may have to start from scratch and rebuild what the two of you had, because you may not even recognize her when she comes back."

"It doesn't matter," Optimus declared, slowly shaking his head. "She is my Hunter—my Shooting Star. Whoever she is, however she is, she will always be my Hunter—nothing will ever change that. Nothing."

"I hope you're right, Prime," Greasy admitted, not exactly looking hopeful. "But Luna doesn't just damage people; she twists them around into the worst version of themselves. And the harder you fight back, the worst she twists and bends."

---

The New Moon;

Hunter thought she'd experienced what the Angustia felt like when Optimus had been struck with it and it had come through their bond. She'd experienced nothing. Until now. If Hell—Pit—whatever you wanted to call it—could have been turned into a bodily sensation, this would have been it: smelting and freezing at the same time; exploding and being crushed in unison; every nerve-ending and receptor white-hot and stinging. Every breath hurt, every twitch hurt, every thought hurt; it all just hurt. After having experienced it, Hunter had never wished for death, but at this point, that was the only thing she was wishing for—death, oblivion, something, anything to disappear into so that she could leave behind the torment even for a moment or so. In all reality, death wasn't the only thing the teen wished for, but the only other thing she truly wanted—to be with her spark-father and family—she knew she would never have again: Death was the next best thing.

"Had enough?" Luna asked. Her voice was cold, emotionless like she felt nothing over what she'd done to her granddaughter. Of course, it was a good bet that she didn't.

Hunter didn't speak, she didn't open her eyes, she barely even groaned. She simply lay there, as if dead. She simply lay there wishing she was dead.

"Angustia."

"AAAAHHHHHHH!" Hunter suddenly jolted to life as she was struck yet again with the curse, her body arching, limbs moving in strange unnatural ways. The very air was ripped from her lungs, pushing her to the point of unconsciousness, but the pain of the curse was so terrible it wouldn't allow her to slip away. The only thing Hunter could recall being as agonizing as this, was when she'd first transformed, and even then she'd been delirious and out of her mind. Here, now, she was fully present. And, if she knew Luna, Hunter knew she was going to stay that way.

"When I ask a question," Luna said as she ceased the curse, "I expect an answer, girl."

"Please!" Hunter just barely managed to croak out of the dry, raw, painfully contracting throat. "Please, please no more. No more." She barely had any liquid left in her to create tears, but a few managed to ooze from her tear ducts yet, burning down her red cheeks like molten lava. "Please, I'm begging you, please—no more!"

An utterly triumphant and sadistic smile beamed radiantly across Luna's face, her raspberry eyes sparkling insidiously. "So, it turns out the Fuser isn't completely above lowering herself to begging," Luna remarked. She laughed mockingly. "Pathetic."

Normally, Hunter would have snapped back at that, but she didn't have the strength to anymore. Or the will. In fact, she didn't even have the strength or will to bring herself to be offended by such a statement. She just didn't have anything anymore; she just felt so completely… empty. So completely, unbearably, frighteningly empty.

"Nothing to say?" Luna asked. Apparently, she'd been waiting for Hunter to talk back, too. "Well, then. I'd say we've made significant progress today, wouldn't you, Huntress?"

Again, Hunter remained silent.

Luna just smiled. Then she approached the girl as she lay prone and helpless on the floor, reached down, and snagged her by the hair. She jerked her up.

Hunter could only cry out in pain as her curse-riddled body objected to the harsh treatment. She had no strength left to try and fight back.

"I think we should celebrate this milestone with your cousins," Luna jeered, "don't you?" She didn't wait for an answer as she turned and began to drag Hunter from the room.

Hunter gritted against the pain, her eyes watering, but all she could do was lay there limp and let Luna drag her like a corpse.

Luna had pulled more than one matted handful of hair from Hunter's head by the time they reached the cell. And when they finally reached the cell, and the witch threw the girl back inside, yet another grody, grungy chunk ripped out in her hands.

Hunter yelped. "Ahh!" She hit the hard floor of the cell with a sickening thud, fire racing up her nerves as they were still tingling from the Angustia torture. Then she lay there, trying to breathe through the throbbing ache.

"Oh, my god!" Ally exclaimed. She lurched to her feet and went running to her cousin, falling to her knees beside the tortured girl. Instinctively she reached out to put hands on Hunter but then froze, apparently realizing how Hunter must have been primarily tortured.

"Hunter!" Steel struggled to get to his feet.

"I expect you two to take care of her," Luna stated emotionlessly. She grimaced a bit as she dropped the chunk of Hunter's hair to the floor and brushed the stray, greasy strands that still clung to her fingers off. "I need her back in decent shape by the time we reach Cybertron."

Despite her pain, Hunter's mind snapped closed on that little tidbit of information, not that saw how it could be much help to the situation as it was now. "Cybertron?" she croaked, mostly to herself.

"Cybertron?" Ally and Steel asked at the same time, staring at their grandmother in confusion and disbelief.

Luna smiled twistedly at them. "Yes," she said. "Congratulations, my grandchildren; you will be among the first of our race to return to our home planet—or whatever's left of it, rather."

"W-Why are we going there?" Ally just dared the question.

Luna held the girl in a point-blank stare for a long moment. "You'll discover that soon enough," she stated cryptically. Then the witch turned her gaze upon Hunter, who had tried to push herself up into a sitting position but had only successfully managed to flop onto her back as her muscles still twitched and spasmed and contracted from the after-effects of the curse. Luna watched in emotionless silence as her youngest grandchild continued to writhe in pain. Then her eyes caught a gleam of silver and she looked towards the girl's throat. A necklace—different than that of her Hybrid one: a hollow silhouette of a wolf's head. Knowing Hunter had never really been one for jewelry, Luna came to the conclusion that this necklace was important—that it meant something very dear to Hunter for her to wear it. Excellent! Without warning, Luna reached out and hooked a delicate, perfectly manicured finger around the fine little chain. "I'll take this." In the blink of an eye, she'd snapped the necklace off.

A burst of adrenaline surged through Hunter as she realized what was happening. Forgetting her pain, the girl snapped a hand up and snagged Luna's wrist in a desperate grip. "No!" she wailed, eyes shining, though she had no more tears left to cry. "No, please, don't take it! It's all I have left of him!" She gazed beseechingly up at her grandmother, hoping beyond hope the woman would suddenly grow a spark. "Please, don't take it. Please don't take him."

"Him": Luna realized that could only mean one person—one 'bot more specifically; and in realizing that, she realized exactly how all the more special it was and thus all the more power and potency that would come with it. Luna's smile turned from twisted to dark. "Perfect." With that, she wrenched her grip from Hunter's—pulling the girl up and causing her to flop once again on her front to the floor—and left the cell. The thick doors whooshed shut and locked with a final, resounding clank!

Silence fell, broken only by Hunter's quiet, defeated cries and pleas.

Hunter's world had already been irreparably shattered before now, but… this was a kick in the face on top of it all. Her necklace was gone! The last little bit of her spark-father and his love was taken from her! And undoubtedly Luna was going to use it in some horrible, perverted, cruel way against her. Hunter really was alone now. So very lost and small and alone at the mercy of these sadistic cultists.

A gentle hand touched Hunter's shoulder, making her flinch. "Hunter," Ally's voice murmured in her ear, "I'm so sorry."

Then Hunter heard slowly shuffling footsteps, each shift accompanied with a groan or a hitched breath. The bitterness of anger and betrayal boiled up inside the sixteen-year-old and she lifted her head out of her arms to glare up at her eldest cousin. "Stay away from me," she said in a croaked snarl.

Steel froze. There was pain in his electric-blue eyes. "Hunter," he started, "I—"

"No, you stay away!" Hunter spat at him. "I don't want your excuses; I don't want your apologies; I don't want you! The only thing I want is for you to get the hell away from me and stay there! Haven't you done enough to me already, Steel?"

"Hunter!" Ally snapped harshly. "It's not Steel's fault!"

Hunter turned her burning gaze on Ally. "Not his fault?" she hissed venomously. "Not his fault?! I'm only here because of him, Ally! I'm only like this because of him! He came up with the plan to take me away from the people I love and put me where Luna could reach me! He came up with how to curse my spark-link with my dad to keep him from finding me! He's the one that figured out how to rip half a person's soul out and—for some braindead reason—put it in a book at Luna's disposal—instead of burning and forgetting the information like any decent person who found something that awful would do—so that she could use it to separate me and my dad forever! None of this would have happened without him! It is exactly Steel's fault, Ally! It is all Steel's fault!" Fueled with her anger, Hunter forced herself to struggle up to her feet. She was successful, but the feat caused such a strain, that the teen stumbled and fell forward with a crash against the cell door, cursing and groaning and breathing heavily as her body complained; she did manage to stay on her feet, however. After a moment of gathering herself, Hunter turned and slowly limped her way to the far side of the cell, away from her cousin.

Ally watched after her and then quickly turned back to her brother, who was standing there, looking worse than he had when his back had been completely unhealed. She could literally see his spark breaking. "She doesn't mean any of that," All said, moving towards Steel. "She's just upset."

"Yes, she does," Steel countered, pulling away from his sister. "She means every word of it and you know it. And she's right, Ally. I've caused so much damage." He looked sadly towards Hunter, who was struggling to not completely fall down as she tried to lower herself to the floor in the farthest corner of the cell. "Too much to be forgiven."

Ally put a comforting hand on his arm as she gave him a sympathetic look. "Steel, no."

Steel just gave her a hopeless look and turned and walked away to his side of the cell so that he was far away from Hunter. So that he couldn't hurt her anymore.

And Ally was left standing there in the rift. Tears of helplessness welled up in her two-toned eyes as she looked between her brother and cousin. Once again Luna had done what she was best at and destroyed Ally's family yet again. If they ever even got the chance, how could they possibly be expected to come back from all of this? How could this damage possibly be undone?