Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. Only the plot and OCs.

Well, now they're breaking my heart, but I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 3

Sizzling, sticky, slick blue splattered down in a gush smothering Bumblebee in both a drenching of energon and the heavy crash of the massive frame over him. It wasn't the sudden crash of weight on top of him that made it all go still though. It was that hot splash of energon that did it.

Vents heaving, frame shaking, Bee lay there on the soaked stone staring up into the frozen look of empty optics and rapidly graying plating. Spark shivering in its chamber, optics wide, he stared up at the long curved blade he had in a white knuckled grip buried to hilt into that junction of throat he'd been aiming for.

He just . . . stared.

The world around him lost in this static filled distortion of what felt like paused time. A ringing in his audios as he coughed, staring through the splatter of energon to the faceplate above him. Hand shaking around the hilt he swallowed hard trying not to wonder if the energon in his mouth was his own or . . . not. Shuffling, tugging at the blade trying to free himself the whole thing was kind of hard when it felt like the whole world was moving in slow motion around him.

Somewhere in the back of his processor it occurred to him that Mia was screaming. And that felt like it should have been important. Like he should be doing something about that. At the moment he wasn't sure what though.

His processor and spark wouldn't do much more then shiver and stare at his knife plugged through protoform.

Nothing else.

None of it was registering.

No sound.

Everything so slow.

Why . . . why was that?

Was he hurt?

Oh. Umm. That was probably a good thing to be trying and figure out.

Slowly his optics focused a bit more, head twisting a bit only for him to freeze again when he found his noseplate pressed up against the broad side of a long knife buried in the stone next to his head.

He blinked.

Staring at his reflection in the glittering grey of the knife. Wondering how it was possible to see himself and not recognize the image staring back at him. Then again, those optics staring back at him were blown wide and dilated in what might be shock. That wasn't the weird part though.

The part that made him quiver was the sheer amount of energon staining even that little portion of him. The hot drips sliding down his cheeks, dripping into his optics, and trailing long streaks over his pinned antennas. It all made his tanks knot up down inside his belly.

A shout echoed through the ringing in his audios. A voice that he should probably remember, he should probably be able to make sense of, but it was like listening through comm static. He wasn't even sure why.

Wasn't sure what the voice was saying either, but somehow it seemed like something he should know.

"BEE!"

Huh?

His head rolled away from the Con's blade driven into the ground beside his cheek, trying to look around the mass of death grey armor crushing him to the place when it came again.

"BUMBLEBEE!"

Jazz. His processor whispered.

That was Jazz, but why the frag did he sound like that? Why was he yelling? Weren't they supposed to be being quiet?

"Oh Primus. No. No, no, no! BEE!"

Suddenly the crushing weight was heaved away and his frame surged with a deep suck of air to previously struggling vents that lead to a hacking fit of searing pain. Optics squeezing shut with it as his aching frame tried to curl in on itself with the hot flares of pain, but hands were suddenly on him. Grasping, grapping, pulling, and clinging.

One nano he was laying on damaged doorwings and the next he found himself yanked into Jazz's shaking frame. Hands all over him as the motion of moving left him coughing and shaking his head.

And Jazz was still shouting.

Why was Jazz still shouting?

Why could he hear Mia screaming in the back ground? Why were there thunder like explosions tapering off far over head? Why could he feel Scout and Echo in pain and scared? Why did it feel like Jazz was having some sort of panic attack?

"Move you slaggin' hound!"

Sunstreaker?

The twins were here too?

But . . . he had left them somewhere hadn't he? That had been a bad thing . . . he was pretty sure.

Was that why Sunstreaker sounded so upset? Was that why he was yelling at Bee's hounds?

He really shouldn't be doing that. Something was wrong with the hounds. They didn't need to be shouted at.

Bee should put a stop to that.

Yeah.

Only when he opened his mouth all he did was start coughing again, energon bubbling up in his mouth making him wheeze until it was spilling over his lips. That . . . that was not good. Shaking his head hard back and forth, trying to make it stop, trying to hear something that didn't sound all distorted and odd, trying to figure out why nothing was working the way he thought it should.

Shock.

The word drifted through his processor as his cheeks were cupped and his gaze met Jazz's frantic one.

I'm in shock. That's what this is.

Huh.

Well, it did feel like he figured it would, but he guessed it kind of made sense.

Jazz was still speaking, his lips were moving but Bee wasn't sure what he was saying. The static had come back with the coughing and as it faded off wheezing pain surged up through his sensor net tearing a aching whine through his throat, but even that sounded wrong. Sides was there and his hounds were circling. Sunstreaker was somewhere near, he knew that somehow, but the hands running over his aching frame were distracting.

That hurt.

Why were they doing that?

Another loud boom rocked through the world, loud enough for him to hear through the static in his audios. Then he was jerked. Yanked tight by Jazz's strong arms. Pulled and twisted away from something but he didn't see what.

Instead in the twisting his optics had landed on the crumbled frame laying just a few feet away. That huge frame of Tripwire. Now death grey, limb, unmoving. The brand new blade the twins had gifted him with still buried deep in the mech's throat. The blue of energon having stopped pumping so it was no longer gushing, but it curdled all over the mech's frame in a sick paint job.

Bee's spark felt like it turned to lead. His tanks giving a hard clench, knotting into a prickling ball.

He was dead.

He was dead . . . because of Bee.

I . . . I killed him.

A flush of sickening heat rushed through his frame and before he knew what was happening his tanks rolled. Everything in them coming up in coughing hacks. Then, his world went a little too far to the left followed by . . . blackness.

It was with a dazed kind of stupor that Hot Rod stumbled out of the landed Eternity, spark heaving in his chest. Watching as a badly leaking Silverbolt helped a no better looking Optimus up the edge of the rounded crater.

It hadn't been more than a breem since one last blast sent the Nemesis spiraling down in a fall of flames. Roddy still wasn't sure how the ship vanished before it hit the ground, he wasn't all that sure he wanted too, but at the moment all that mattered was the Decepticons were gone.

Defeated?

No.

No the Cons hadn't lost, no victory could be claimed for the Autobots in the graveyard that stretched down before Roddy's bright blue optics. The Cons had fled and failed in killing them all in one fail swoop, but there was no victory here. No means for anything like it.

There was only a numb scramble to save as many as they could then get the frag out of here. It was going slower than any of the officers would have liked, but there was something about watching their friends haul even more of their friends' lifeless frames from the ruble that in no way could be rushed.

The Eternity's medical bay was overflowing. With the dead and close to it, any that could still walk were helping search for survivors for as long as they could stay upright. Those that were too badly injured to search, but not in life threatening conditions were lined up along the hallways surrounding the medical bay.

Roddy hadn't seen Ratchet or Arcee since they stumbled up the ship's planks a breem ago. However, he knew they were in the process of trying desperately to save as many as they could along side, First Aid, Jolt, and Quickfire.

But not Jumpwire.

Roddy's spark clenched.

Jumpwire was dead.

So . . . so many. The young commander was still unsure what the actual tally was. He was sort of avoiding finding out. Instead making himself as useful as possible as far away from the bay and halls as possible. Which meant he was stumbling up and down the deep climb to the bottom of the crater looking for bots.

He had no idea why pulling limb frames from under stone was better than watching them leak out in the halls, but it was. Or at least, that was what he was telling himself. What he had been telling himself since a badly leaking Ironhide climbed over the rim of that hole with a leaking, unconscious, and covered in energon Bumblebee in his arms as well as his quivering mate that wouldn't let the little mechling go. While two busted up hounds limped along at his feet.

Roddy had froze up on the ship's ramp then. Spark going cold in his chest.

He'd been ignored, though he supposed that shouldn't have surprised him, as they stumbled past. It wasn't until Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were helping Jazz up the ramp that somebot bothered to answer the panic in his optics.

The answer Jazz gave him though was a touch on the shoulder and a quiet, 'Hey Roddy' and then they were gone too. To a quick patch up and then back down there with him looking for anything living. It wasn't much of an answer, but it was all he would get.

There were too many other things to worry about.

Like saving what they could and then clearing out.

The saving was running out of time though.

He knew that. Magnus kept pinging him, but he kept ignoring it. Because there were more living down there. There had to be. And he wasn't leaving until he found them all. He hadn't been able to find all of his crew. It wouldn't be the same here.

He'd find them.

He would.

Limping past the broken looking Air Commander as well as his older brother Roddy was fully intent of heading back down that pit hole to look some more when a hand snaked out and latched hold of his shoulder.

Flinching back, startled, weapons systems pinging and whirling he was halfway through the thought to fire the blaster charged in his arm when Optimus' voice rumbled.

"Roddy, stop."

The bright mech painted in red, yellow, and gold froze. Staring up into those optics that matched his own he found weariness, defeat, and pain in the elder mech's faceplate as Optimus sighed.

"No more, Roddy." The breath the Prime sighed out rattled his aching vents in a sound that made the younger cringe. "It's time to go."

But the words sparked in Hot Rod's chest tearing a growl out as he yanked away from Optimus' grip. "What the frag do you mean it's time to go!?"

The quick action made the aching mech stumble. Nearly putting Roddy on his aft had it not been for a swift move from Optimus.

"Stop Roddy. Calm down." Optimus rushed, not letting go as the younger commander struggled against his elder brother's grasp. The big grayish white jet standing just to the side let his dark blue optics dance between the two commanders. Unsure what to do with himself. He'd been escorting his Prime under Prowl's orders of not letting the damaged mech who refused berth rest climb in and out of that pit hole by himself. Nowhere in those instructions from the Praxian however were the proper actions of what to do when two commanders started bickering and shoving when neither of them were in any shape to do so.

It was only with a hard look from Optimus that the jet took his leave. Bowing out and hurrying back to the hovering ship leaving Optimus with his struggling brother.

"Roddy." Optimus wasn't growling, but it was hard to keep a hand on to the smaller, more agile mech with only one arm. His other still hanging limply at his side. He had ignored Elita's snaps to stay inside. Only allowing Jolt to stop the leaking before heading back out to help what he could. Ultra Magnus had glared at him when walked by a breem earlier but he didn't care. That was his crew laying down there among the ruble. He would not sit in Magnus' ship's halls and let others go and get them.

But for the last twenty klicks or so it was becoming clearer and clearer there was nothing left down there alive. Not even Optimus gift—weaker then Bee's sure, but still powerful—could feel there was nothing left to find. Those that they couldn't save from the ruble didn't deserve to be left in this horrible grave, but he could no longer sacrifice the good of the living to honor the dead.

Magnus called him a few klicks ago saying Roddy wouldn't answer, and agreeing that it was time to go. So he had no plans on letting the worked up young mech head back down there. Everybot else had already come in.

It was time to go.

"Roddy, enough." Optimus snapped, yanking him as hard as he could to spin him around and plant him his frame back in front of him. The bright commander was trembling, vents heaving, optics blown wide in a cretin kind of misery Optimus knew too well.

"No it's not!" Hot Rod snapped back at him. Pulling at the hard grip on his arm, but wary of pulling too much. He'd never seen his older brother look quite as miserable as he did right now, at least not since he thought his mate died. He didn't want to do anymore damage to the aching massive frame. His spark was quivering though, aching and rolling in his chest.

He couldn't stop.

Not yet.

He had to make sure they didn't leave anybot down there!

"We haven't found everybot! I'm not leaving until we do!"

"Roddy," Optimus struggled with him. "Roddy. Hot Rod!"

The smaller commander froze. Looking up the few feet difference between them to stare into his brother's optics while his own were wild with the pulsing emotions in side of him.

"It's over, Roddy." Optimus whispered, attempting to pull his younger brother close to him. In the face of what their eldest brother had done though, Roddy just couldn't do it. He shied away from anymore touch. The Prime couldn't say that he blamed him. "There is nothing more you can do."

"We can't leave them!"

"There is nothing left to find, Roddy."

"That's wrong and you know it!"

"It's the truth and you know it!" Optimus shouted back at him, patience snapping in the wake of all the pain, anger, and fear. "Now stop arguing with me and get your damn aft on the ship!"

The toss was harder than it was meant to be, leaving Roddy stumbling and swaying. Optimus cringed with the crack of his knees against the hard stone, but before he could reach forward and help him back up Roddy had already pushed himself back upright. Marching back toward the ship without so much as a glance over his shoulder.

Optimus was left standing there on the edge of a disaster sighing as his brother walked away from him. Turning his optics back down to the smoking, charred, crumbling mess of what had been his home and a large portion of his family Optimus swallowed back the tears that lodged up in his throat. Turning way with a whisper.

"I'm sorry."

It wasn't the dull ache through his doorwings, his side, or his head that woke him. Instead it was the soft beep, beep, beep, beep coming from somewhere to his right. Groggily his optics blinked open to a distorted blur of over bright lights.

Quickly he squeezed them shut again. Head pounding with the light making him whine under his breath.

Damn.

Why was it so bright, and why the frag did he hurt so bad?

The truth slammed in like a punch to the gut. A sharp, sudden, surge of memory. Fear, pain, horror, . . . guilt.

They'd been attacked. The Nemesis, the crash, the fighting the . . . death.

He'd been fighting. That Con, Tripwire, he'd been trying to protect Mia.

Mia! Scout! Echo!

Bolting upright Bumblebee's vision swam when he forced his optics open, searching blindly though the blur, trying to figure out where he was and what was happening only to have a strong grip wrap around him and carefully pressing him back to the mat he was laying on.

"Easy Bee," Chromia's voice purred through his conscious, field rising up and wrapping round to pull him back down into the warmth and safety of her frame and everything else. "It's okay, you're alright, it's over."

He was rattled for a moment, processor reeling. Trying to catch up with where he was and what was happening.

And how he ended up laying on a mat on the floor in a grey hallway.

However, Chromia's strong arms were locked around him and it didn't take too much longer to realize he was curled up in her lap leaning against a wall down the end of a bright hall. They were placed in the corner of a four way junction letting Bee throw his gaze this way in that in confusion as he realized they weren't the only ones here. Bots lined the halls on both sides and around the next.

Stretched out on tarps, mats, and blankets. Some sitting up, some unconscious, some talking quietly among themselves, some clinging to each other much like Mia was clinging to him and he realized a moment later he was doing the same to her.

A harder look brought him names to the faces, but a hard rolling of his spark was the only reminder he needed of how many weren't here. Of what had happened.

A quivering set into his plating. Aching doorwings and winglets flattening to his back, antennas pining down into their grooves. His fingers tightened around Mia's armor as the dark blue femme pulled him closer into her chest. Arms tightening around him as she settled her chin atop his forehead. Beside them to the left lay a pile of black armored plating. Scout and Echo were knocked out on a heavy pain killer.

It was the only thing Jolt had been able to do for them with how many other life or death things needed the medics' attention right now. The two static hounds would live, their frames meant to heal better and faster than bots, but they were both in a considerable amount of pain. The meds were the least Mia could get for them.

Though her main concern had been Bumblebee. It hadn't taken long to figure out the energon soaking him wasn't his. His doorwings were cut deep in many places, a gash torn into his side, a fairly serious concussion, and two long scratches carved up the side of his neck to just crest the edge of the left side of his jaw that required a weld and would likely scar but other then that he was alright.

At least physically.

Mentally . . . that was yet to be seen.

Shock Jazz could recognize when he saw it, had known the nano he got a hold of him and Bee couldn't respond. It seemed the weight of what had happened had finally crashed in on the young mech, but a lot Mia was afraid had far more to do with what he'd had to do.

Her grip around her young mechling tightened.

Tripwire.

How much had that mech taken from her already? He'd been there that night Whiteout died, had played a role in it, and now he had taken something from Bumblebee none of them could ever give him back.

Chromia had no illusions of what her mechling's life would be like. She knew all too well the things Bumblebee would have to do and see as this war went on, but that didn't mean the reality of it didn't crush a place inside her.

Bumblebee had proved them all wrong once again.

The thing they had feared that when the time came he wouldn't do . . . he did.

He killed a mech.

At fifty-five vorns old, Bumblebee had come out of this soaked in energon that wasn't his and marred in a way nothing would ever fix. All because he'd been trying to protect her.

Squeezing her optics shut Mia pressed a firm kiss to the top of his head, holding tightly as the young mech trembled there in her lap. Glances were spared their way. Drift, Bluestreak, Inferno, and Red Alert among them. For the most part though, Mia ignored them. She knew they were only looking to try and see how Bee was doing. They might be needed soon, depending on how Bee dealt with this, but for now Mia wasn't letting go and she wasn't letting anybot else in the bubble she'd made here in this corner of the halls.

Apart from Ironhide when he came back.

She had already sent a short feeling to him when Bee had stirred. An overwhelming sense of relief had flooded back to her, but under it all they were both too aware that him waking up was only going to be half of anything that happened next.

The entire army had more or less just been sliced in half. Two ships gone. Running scared.

Mia sighed as the faceplates rolled through her mind.

Tracks, Grapple, Seaspray, Blurr, Hoist, Skids, Kup, Brawn, Cliffjumper, Downshift, Impactor, Ammo, Blades, Streetwise, Fixit, Jumpwire, Greaser, Takedown, and so many more. She wasn't even sure how high the tally had gotten by now. Ironhide kept her updated as much as he could but there was so much in the heavy air it was hard to breath let alone think.

A hard tremble from the little mech in her lap pulled Mia's mind from the list of the dead back down to her little mech's coolant filled optics. Lifting a hand to cup the cheek that wasn't baring a weld and a dark bruise. Rubbing her thumb under his optics to brush away the few tears that slipped down.

"Hush, my little one." She muttered softy to him over their bond. Reminding him he wasn't on pain meds for the very reason Ratchet refused to give his processor anymore to slip into shock about once he came around. There would only be meds should he ask for them now that he was awake.

Another whine rolled through him as he burrowed back into her chest. He wasn't sure he wanted to know why they were laying in a hall surrounding by medical equipment and hurt members of his family. He could feel the rumble of ship engines through the floor, telling him they were air born somewhere.

Magnus must have picked them up and taken then away from the disaster he saved them from. But what had happened?

Had the Cons left?

Did Magnus destroy their ship?

How had they even gotten there in time?

So many questions, but above it all was the biggest one of all. How many of his family were gone?

He knew all it would take is a slow shuffling through his bonds and he'd know, but he didn't want to. He was afraid.

Under that fear was another truth that left his tanks squeezing again, even if now there was nothing in them to come up. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not though because of the ache it created down there.

He killed him.

He'd buried his knife in a throat and ended a life.

He'd done that.

It made his spark squeal painfully in his chest. Curling him into a tighter ball and shivering against Chromia. A rational part of his processor was whispering that he'd done it because he had too. That if he hadn't the mech would have killed Mia, and him, and his hounds, and everybot else he found trapped down there in the aftermath of what his cruel Lord did. He knew that.

But that didn't make the sickening pain go away. It didn't make him feel like anything less of a monster.

The most horrible part about it all though, was that tiny whisper, the one that said he'd do it again. And he would. Of that he was very sure. Because if it was a choice between his family and somebot else there was never going to be an argument.

What did that make him?

Thinking that he could chose between life and death for other bots. That wasn't right. That wasn't . . . .

That's war. That whispering part of his processor reminded him. Making the aching in his chest tone down slightly while that thought settled in.

"I'm sorry." Bee whispered through his link with Mia, the words spilling over to Hide because he wanted his sire too. He could feel him around somewhere, but not here. Bee wished he was here.

"Bee," Mia shook her head against his. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I . . . killed him!" He shivered again against Mia's armor.

"Bumblebee," The stern tone flowing through their link carried with it a feeling from Hide that made it almost feel like the big mech had Bee and Mia wrapped up close in the power of his strong arms. It eased some of the aches rolling through the mechling letting him loose himself in the warmth and the safety that Mia and Hide always curried through their link.

In return, Bee pulsed a sparkling like need. A want to curl up in his sire's lap and never leave. To somehow crawl back into his spark vault and hide way from the real world. To get lost in the safety of his creators and not have the face the world he'd so long wanted to be a part of that now left him trembling like a sparkling in the aftermath.

The feeling had Mia pulling him closer and Hide sending a strong feeling back to him.

"Bumblebee, listen to me." Hide's inner voice followed the feeling. Making Bee have to pull himself back from the place he was sinking again to focus on his sire's voice. "Are you listening?"

He hummed back a felling of yes.

"Bee you did what you had to do. Do you understand the difference?"

He thought so. At least through all the learning and all the lessons he'd have over the vorns. All the training his family had done with him to teach him how to do the very thing he just did. On the outside it was always easy to look at it and say he was doing it because he was in a war, because he was a soldier, because if he didn't members of him family would be hurt, because if he didn't the Decepticons would win and all the fighting and dying would be for nothing.

Turned out the concept and the action were to very different things.

His spark had always shied away from this idea of death, but his processor knew it was a necessary evil. He'd just never thought it would feel quite like this.

"I didn't mean too . . . ." That was the only thing he could come up with. For it was the truth. He'd know what he was doing when he refused to move. He'd known what would come of it. Really he did, but there was something about having done it on accident that made it a little worse.

He didn't know why, but it did.

"I didn't want too." He went on in the same quiet whisper. "He was going to hurt you though." A deeper snuggle into Mia's armor. "I wasn't going to let him."

There was no real comfort either creator could offer their adopted sparkling. Nothing would ease that guilt, it was something he would have to come to terms with on his own. Just like every other bot that was alive in this war. Maybe in another life the brightness of their mechling would never have to be tainted by the game of life and death, but in this life there was no way that could ever be possible. He would have to fight, fight and kill, or he would die.

That was simply the reality they lived in.

Telling him that it got easier with time was not what Bumblebee wanted to hear. So for now all Mia could do was hold him tightly and let him be.

The headed west. Way west. Back out the way Roddy had been. To the desert's edge and the protection of the Tower Cliffs. The mass of the Eternity tucked away between the towering peaks of a crumbling mountain. Hidden by the jagged stone and endless drops. It might not have been the smartest place to regroup over the long orns that followed the attack, but Roddy knew the cliffs well and apart from not talking to anybot he got the ship safely into the cocoons of stone walls with very little trouble. The young commander always had been a brilliant pilot and even better engineer, so that much wasn't all that surprising.

It was his refusal to speak that was the oddity.

For the most part he was left alone though. They were all coping in their own ways. Some better than others.

It had taken around four orns but Bumblebee had finally come around from the low he had worked himself into. Orns of clinging to Mia and Hide as well as his hurting pups finally lifted to him coming to terms with what had happened. They all knew there was a piece of him that would forever be gone, an innocence he'd never know again, but none of them could say he wasn't ready for the world they lived in anymore.

For the most part, besides nonstop guards on every monitor and detection method they had all energy went in to fixing the damaged and burying the dead. One of the deeper caverns along the Cliff's had been the site of a long and silent vigil lit by data-bats and torches as the Autobots laid their dead to rest. It wasn't much of a graveyard, but it was the best they could do.

After that, repairing the injured with that scare supplies they had was the main priority. Ratchet, Arcee, Aid, Fire, and Jolt rarely left the bay they were all sharing now. Dozens of bots were still critical and even more were not truly fit enough to be out of their care. There simply was just not enough space for them all. That was a fact that stretched beyond the medical bay as well.

Magnus had always had the smallest crew, and had plenty of open rooms, but not quite enough to supply the need they had now. Two of the rec rooms were being converted into barracks, and many more rooms were being divided to share more than they were built for. It wasn't comfortable and it wouldn't all function like it needed to but at this point they had no other choice.

The Cons had vanished, quite literally. The Nemesis and the entirety of the army that had called her home and fallen out of the fight in a crumbling mess of fire and shattering metal under the onslaught Magnus and Roddy had reeked with the Eternity's cannons. However, the ship never hit the ground. It a flash the whole thing had simply disappeared.

Something that still had the command staff pacing around offices snarling at each other over the explanation of how. Roddy had worked a miracle when he pulled that old hyper drive out and went to wiring, but there were no warpers left among the Decepticon ranks. The ship shouldn't have been able to vanish.

But it did.

The Cons were gone, the Autobots were left picking up the pieces, and what the frag they were going to do next was anybot's guess.

The way Hot Rod saw it; that was more than enough probable cause for drinking.

Locked away in the darkness of what was more of a supply closet then a room with a folding berth in the corner and nothing else Roddy sat staring empty at the blankness of the wall before him. Two empty bottles lay on the floor below him with another clutched tightly in his right hand. Legs sprawled out before him, slouched down in a bend against the wall he cradled the half empty third bottle to his chest. Nursing it every few klicks or so while he stared blankly through the darkness.

The supply closet they had converted into an officer's cabin for him—he hadn't wanted it, had fought Magnus and Optimus about it a few orns ago—he was now thankful to have. Because if he had been in the converted barracks with the rest of his crew there was no way he could be doing what he was currently doing.

Which was being very, very drunk in his windowless, dark room as tears tracked down his cheeks. At this point he wasn't even sure what he was crying about anymore. Quite honestly, he wasn't even sure what he'd started drinking about anymore.

Though considering that had been the point he was more than okay with that.

He wished he could stop blubbering like a scolded sparkling, but that didn't seem to be within his power at the moment. But that was okay.

A pleasant tingling had taken up his whole processor. A blessed numb that left no room for thought or worry. His spark still had the power to obsess—it was doing that rather well considering the tears—but this amount of highgrade made higher thought impossible.

He was perfectly okay with that.

Lifting the bottle as much as his heavy limbs could allow he wrapped his lips around the long top and tried to take a drag while making as little of a mess as possible. It turned out to be harder than he expected it to be with all the sniffling he was doing. He ended up pouring more of it down his front then he managed to get in his mouth.

A slow whine echoed out of him with the action. A muttered curse that sounded pretty funny in the slur of his heavy tongue. It made him chuckle quietly for a few moments until for some reason the chuckles turned into loud sobs.

The hard shakes of tears leaving the young commander curling in on himself as they rattled through his frame. Tipping to the side not at all caring that what was left of his highgrade spilled all over him, his makeshift berth, his makeshift pillow, and everything else.

Rattling with his crying Roddy curled tightly into a ball, wiggled under his covers, pulled them over his head and simply cried.

The longer it went on the harder they got until he was choking on his blubbering in loud wheezing gasps. Trembling under his threadbare blanket he had pulled out of another storage closet. Arms wrapped tightly around himself and the empty bottle he clutched.

Miserable.

Miserable and alone.

Curled up in the little room that had been turned into their own Bee sat on the little pop up berth that had been scooted in the tiny room to set right next to the slighter bigger one that Mia and Hide were on. Scout and Echo lay at his feet one of Bee's hands of both of them.

They were both recovering very well. Echo only baring a few scars along her neck that matched rather well with the two thin lines that ran up the side of Bee's neck and the side of his jaw.

His family did a lot of staring at those scars over these last orns. Hide and Mia doing a lot of holding of him and rubbing along the softer protoform of his neck and slightly harder of his jaw.

Scars they figured were something he was still too young to have, but Bee viewed them as a kind of deserving price for the line he had crossed. Saying that he had become okay with what he did wasn't true, he doubted killing would ever be something he was okay with, but he had calmed down and realized that Hide was right. He'd done what he had to do to protect the bots he loved.

There was a difference between that and what the Decepticons did. At least for the most part.

His spark wouldn't accept that as an answer, but it did accept that the action was something he would have to come to do far better then what he had. Lease scars were not going to be the only price he paid for the soldier he had always wanted to be for the chance to defend his family.

Scout was actually the worse off of the three of them. Tripwire had done quite a number on the larger mech hound. His right audio was completely shredded. From the base all the way to the tip the softer, flexible protoform bore three long tears running from the base to the tip. A few other scars littered his neck and chest but that was the one that stood out the most. The one that had Bee apologizing the most to his pack brother for. Scout only scoffed at him though.

He told Bee time and time again that he had been protecting his pack and it was of little consequence considering Echo and Bee were safe. The mech hound did a whole lot of growling about how he would have killed the mean mech had he had the chance because there was no way he had been going to let him hurt either his sister or his brother.

Scout had a whole lot to do with Bee getting over the shock of his first kill and coming to terms with the fact that death was going to be a part of his life if he ever hoped to do what he wanted to do so badly. Keep his family safe.

Scratching idly at both Scout's and Echo's audios—the one that didn't hurt for Scout—the young yellow mech stared up at the towering Prime seated in the swivel chair at the end of the berth. The wasn't much space in this tiny room which meant if Hide, Mia, and Bee weren't on their berths there was no room for the chair that Optimus was in. Ultra Magnus trying to stand by the door made the tiny space even tighter on top of making Scout a little irritated in his healing grumpiness. Bee was keeping a hand on him partly because he wanted to pet the hound and partly because if he didn't he was kind of worried Scout might start biting bots.

Again.

They didn't need a repeat of when Aid had tried to put some welds on the hound's audio a few orns ago. Bee was a little afraid Aid was never coming to come near his hounds ever again. Not that Scout cared. That had kind of what the mech hound had been aiming for.

Optimus was leaned forward with his elbows rested on his knees, fingers laced under his chin while Magnus stood with his arms crossed leaning back against the door.

They'd already been over this about three times now, but Optimus didn't like his answers. Not that Bee knew how to do anything about it. All he knew to do was tell Optimus the truth. He didn't know what it meant anymore then he did.

Shrugging again, Bee sighed.

"I don't know. I'm sorry, but I don't know who it was. It wasn't Megatron though."

"How could it have not been Megatron?" Ultra Magnus asked.

Bee shrugged.

He didn't know.

He didn't know what it was, or who it was, but he knew it wasn't Megatron. He'd felt Megatron before. That hadn't been Megatron.

That had been something much, much worse.

"And you heard them?" Optimus asked again.

Bee nodded. "Sorta. It was kind of just a feeling. I didn't really sense it like I do other sparks because I couldn't make it go away. I'm not really good at blocking."

Yes, they knew. It just didn't make any sense. At least not to Optimus. What in the Cons' crew was powerful enough to seek out Bee's spark?

The other way around wouldn't have been so impressive. Bee could touch just about any spark he wanted to if he put his mind to it, but while he'd never had much practice with blocking nothing should have been able to come in and not leave like he kept describing.

The little mech's trembling voice still echoed in Optimus' audios from that first night he'd come to find him still curled tightly up in Mia's lap.

"There's something on that ship."

It still sent a chill down Optimus back strut even now.

"What did it say again?" Chromia questioned, dark optics dancing around her little mech's faceplate. Lingering a little longer on those two thin scars, but he didn't pay much attention to it. What he walked away with was nothing compared to what others had. Even Ironhide.

His sire nearly lost his right optic in this one. The long, crooked gash cutting from over his optic ridge, down across his optics leaving a slight blur behind as it ended just over the side of his nose plate. The mech that gave it to him was dead, but that didn't mean looking at it didn't make Bee shiver a little.

More had earned their fair share of scars in all this, that was for sure, but that didn't make looking at them all any easier.

"I see you." Bee repeated.

The rest of it . . . well he figured that might be something that could be done without. Maybe. Hopefully.

A low growl rumbled through Ironhide, as it had the last four or five times Bee had told them that, and just like all the times before there was this look that went around the grown bots. He didn't know how they thought he couldn't see it, but he supposed it did matter because he had no idea what it was about. Let alone how to make them tell him.

If they were going to tell him they would have done it already. Unfortunately, that meant trying to get them too was a waste of time. So he wasn't even bothering with it. The truth was they didn't have any more idea what was going on than he did. They didn't know who it had been that he felt, just as they didn't know where it was Megatron went.

The simple truth was, none of them had any idea what was going on. Bumblebee was pretty sure that was making it all that much worse.

"So?" He pressed quietly, wondering if this time it would get him anything else.

However, all it did get was a low hiss out of Optimus as he leaned back in the chair. "So the sooner we figure out what to do next, the better."

Yeah, Bee figured that would be all the answer he was going to get. For now anyway. In the face of all that had happened he couldn't find it in himself to argue about it. He didn't want to fight anymore. Not right now.

He'd had enough fighting for a while.

It had cost them enough for now, and though it might be worth it in the end it wouldn't earn them back anything they had lost. Not the way Bee saw it.

It wouldn't stop him from fighting again when the time came, but that didn't make him happy about it.

Leaving the Weapons Specialist, his mate, and his son to their rest Optimus and Magnus headed back down the halls of the hidden battle ship both as tightly spun as the other. No words rolled between them for much of the walk until finally Magnus sighed.

"What do you think he sensed?"

Optimus rolled his shoulders, his right one still aching every now and again. They were so low on supplies he wasn't wasting them by using pain meds somebot else could be. "I'm not sure, but we need to find out."

"What about Trickster?" The commander asked only to earn a glare for his trouble.

"That glitch has been gone for over thirty vorns. I'm not asking him back."

"Even if we could use his help?"

"He won't help, Magnus. They'll just make things worse."

"You don't know that."

"I know what Wardrums said the last time I saw him, and I've no plans to test his theory."

"Your plans to keep the young mech corralled didn't work out as well as you planned, Optimus." Magnus narrowed his gaze at him. "And our excuses aren't going to work anymore. So what now?"

Expression hardening the Prime shook his head. "I don't know."

They walked on for a few more hallways when Optimus asked.

"Have you gotten Roddy to talk yet?"

Magnus paused half a step, shaking his head, spark sinking in its chamber. "No. He's hardly done more then come out of his room since we put it together for him. I thought he'd be doing better than this."

"He's not the only one not coping well." Optimus breathed. "I shouldn't have left him this long. Roddy's never done well alone. He thinks too much, he always has."

"He blames himself for things he shouldn't, but all good commanders do. We both forget sometimes he's not much older than this blasted war."

It was Optimus' turn to pause. He knew very well that was true, but sometimes Roddy's skill let him forget that his younger brother had known little more of this world then the pit that was this war. He'd hardly been grown when he found his way to Iacon all those vorns ago, and it wasn't long after he did find his way to them that Megatron fell.

"He's still a grown mech." The Prime heaved another sigh. "Not a youngling, he might be as low as the rest of us but he can't act like a sparkling."

"Hurting for those he failed is not acting like a sparkling, Optimus." Ultra Magnus lifted an optic ridge. "You know that."

"I didn't mean it like that." Optimus shook his head.

"I know, but you're still mad."

"And you aren't?"

"I didn't say that, but I'll go talk to him."

Optimus forced a grin. "He always did need you far more than any of the rest of us."

Magnus shook his head at him again as the two commanders parted along a corridor. One heading to the bridge the other to find the youngest commander that hadn't spoken to either of them in orns. Magnus had kept it hidden while he'd had to put his focus else were over the last orns, but he was worried about the bright mech. Roddy had never had the best coping skills, especially when he was blaming himself for something.

No matter how much Magnus tried to convince himself otherwise. He'd always had a soft spot for Roddy. Since the vibrant young mech had ended up in his Enforcer office grinning up at him with that cocky smile.

That smile.

Magnus' spark warmed in its chamber before he gave himself a good shake.

Yes, he'd always had a soft spot for Roddy, and a bit more.

There was this annoying banging that wouldn't stop. That was what roused Hot Rod from the piece of empty recharge. A groan tore through him as he blinked his optics open into the darkness.

Instead of the darkness of his room though it was the distorted dullness of the blanket he had pulled over his head. And then more of that banging.

What the frag was that?

His head hurt couldn't they just leave him alone and let him go back to recharge?

Deciding to ignore it—though not much more deciding went on then the realization that he couldn't sit up—the bright commander snuggled back into his really uncomfortable berth he was curled up on.

Another session of hard bangs this time coming along with a ping through his comm link. Roddy had no intention of answering though. He probably couldn't figure out how to answer even if he did try. So he squeezed his optics back shut and stayed snuggled down.

On the other side of his locked door there was a massive red, white, and blue mech who's spark was starting to get a little anxious in its chamber. Rolling and reaching for the bright one it knew very well, but wasn't answering any way he tried to get him too.

He banged his knuckles one last time on the door rather hard, waiting for the slow drag of unwilling feet across the floor but there was nothing. He gave another urgent ping but when that to was ignored Magnus muttered under his breath.

"Screw it."

And pinged in the commander's override code.

The door hissed away letting Magnus step into darkness only to recoil a bit when the door shut behind him. The overwhelming stench of highgrade assaulted him making the big mech stumble slightly, shaking his head in an attempt to clear his senses.

After that his bright optics were frantically searching the darkness. Landing on a ball curled up in the middle of the berth by the wall.

"Roddy," Magnus' voice pounded through the room as in two long strides he crossed it. Spark hammering while he latched hold of the edge of the blanket it and tore it backward.

A high pitch whine was his reward for his efforts. Uncoordinated limbs flailing, sending another empty bottle crashing to the floor along with the other two all ready there. The young commander was a highgrade soaked puddle balled up in the middle of the berth. His bright optics blinking with confusion while he tried to sit up and failed miserably. Falling back down to the berth in a huff.

"Mags," He hiccuped as a dopey grin crawled up his lips.

A sigh heaved through Magnus' relieved frame. "Oh Roddy, what have you gone and done to yourself now?"

Hot Rod seemed to find that funny. Giggling as he tried to push himself back upright. His palms slipped in the spilled intoxicants and he nearly ended up in the floor had it not been for Magnus grabbing hold of him and pulling him up into his arms.

A squeak left the young commander when he was bundled up and pulled close. Laid across Magnus' much larger arms in a tight hold while the big mech turned from the rank room and berth heading for the hall.

Roddy chirped like a sparkling as he slurred together a sentence. "Oh! Gonna go somewhere? Where?"

"You can't stay in here by yourself." Magnus answered without looking down at the filthy mech that was currently balling up tightly against his armor and snuggling into the center of his chest. Magnus was doing his very best to ignore the feeling of it.

Roddy just purred at him and snuggled a little deeper.

"Said had," Hiccup. "though."

Magnus snorted. "I said no such thing."

"Did too." Roddy pouted, but it didn't stay for long when he started nuzzling at the armor against his cheek. "Disappointed in me."

Magnus froze up for half a step only to shake his head hard and hurry for his room. "Where did you come up with that nonsense? I'm not disappointed in you. No bot is disappointed in you. Is that the slaggin' reason you did this again?"

Roddy hiccuped, but instead of a laugh, it was a sob that came out. One moment the smaller mech was snuggling into the massive commander's chest and the next he was clinging to Magnus' armor balling his optics out.

A sharp pain ran through Magnus' spark as he rounded the last short corridor to his room, jammed in the pass code, and hurried in. Letting it slide shut and locked behind him as he quickly tried to get the quivering mass of bright armor in his arms to stop choking on his tears and trying to climb into his plating.

"Roddy," Magnus said loudly. Sitting down on the edge of his berth, letting the younger mech spread out in his lap. At least he attempted that, but Hot Rod was having none of it. The smaller mech clung to him with low whines and whimpers. Fingers curled tight into his armor as he sobbed.

"I'm sorry." He cried. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!"

"Roddy," Magnus shook him, trying to get him to let go or at least talk sense for a moment, but there was no reaching that mind or that spark right now. He was too strung out on highgrade and too upset. All Magnus could do was wrap his arms tightly around the smaller mech and hold him as he quivered.

Spark aching in his chest the whole time.

Energon leaking in long aching streaks all over his frame, Soundwave stood glaring out across the crumbled remains of his lab. Ravage was curled up in a painful ball on what was left of the cat like mech's place on the desk with Rumble and Frenzy shivering between his long front legs. Laserbeak perched just above them. The torn and tattered metal of his wings leaking energon down him just as the several damaged areas of the other three shown in bright blue.

The several gashes, tears, dents, and burns through Soundwave he hardly felt. It was hard to feel any of his own pain when his creations sat balled together, leaking and afraid. For now there was nothing he could do for them though.

Not when the voice of the mech he long ago swore he'd follow to the ends of the universe—a place that didn't seem all that far away anymore—could be heard screaming through what was left of the burning ship.

A few hundred vorns ago Soundwave's presence would have been enough to remind his best friend of his mind. To calm him down and see reason. But there was no longer any reason to be found in Megatronus. For Megatronus was gone. Only Megatron remained now, and Megatron had sold his soul long ago to powers beyond his comprehension. There was nothing left for Soundwave to reason with now.

There was only this mindless slave currently slaughtering his own soldiers for his Master's mistake.

Master. Soundwave snarled to himself with the word.

Oh how far his friend had fallen from the orn he spared Soundwave from death and the obedience to others. Now this warlord was more slave then he ever had been to his sire or the Rings. What was worse about it all though, was he seemed all so willing.

It made Soundwave's energon boil.

Where was the mech that promised freedom?

That promised justice?

An end to the corruption of their planet and an equal playing field for all Cybertronians no matter their frame type or color of their optics?

Soundwave couldn't see him anymore.

Not now.

Not under the control of the Fallen and Deathtoll.

His old friend no longer cared to hear what Soundwave had to say. There was nothing left inside him that knew how to listen. Not now.

He'd held out hope when Vos fell and Praxus was their retaliation. He'd thought maybe it was right to avenge what had been destroyed in cold energon. However, it hadn't taken him long to find out it wasn't the Council that destroyed Vos. It was ordered from his best friend.

And then the Youngling Sectors.

A shiver went through Soundwave's plating with the roll of haunting memories. He spared a glance to the four piled together on his desk. At all he had been able to save.

Four.

Four out of millions.

The slaughter of whole generations. Of the bots he thought they were fighting to give a better future to.

Soundwave had realized then what had happened. He'd realized the truth. That the powerful speaker and presence that had been his oldest friend was now nothing more than a puppet on strings, and he cursed himself for how long it took to see that.

He'd done something back then to try and stop it, but it had failed. His encoded message that alerted the Autobots to what was happening had been his desperate attempt to stop what he had had a hand in creating. It had failed back then.

He had failed.

Gritting his fangs to the wail of agony that tore through the burnt ship that sent his creations scrambling under the desk to hide Soundwave made up his mind. He had swore long ago that he would stand by his friend's side as he had once done for him and that was not a vow he would break.

But Megatronus was the mech he made that vow to. Not Megatron.

It was too late now to atone for all he had done, and a small part of his spark held out hope that one orn Megatron would see what he had become. Because of that Soundwave could never do what he had let so many do over these last vorns. He could never run.

Where would he run to?

Who would be there to pick up Megs if he did?

No.

There was no place else for him to go, but there might be a way he could change some of this.

Decision made Soundwave strolled forward to the sparking remains of his equipment. Long, silver claw flying over keys as he coded another message. It was betrayal, but Megatron had done the betraying first.

If he couldn't see he'd become the thing he had hated, then Soundwave would have to figure out a way to make him see it. If that was giving his younger brothers—because yes, Soundwave knew that secret as well—a hint then so be it.

He was not a slave.

Never again would he be one, either. It was time to stop acting like one.

Happy New Year!

Thank you all for reading and for the reviews. I look forward to seeing what you have to say about this one.

-Jaycee