The Honor in Duty

Chapter 11

Loved Ones

Disclaimer: I think after like, 61 chapters to this series, plus one shots, you guys have got this down, but I still don't own Hasbro, the Transformers, or the Transformers: Prime tv series.

Greetings my beloved readers! Here we are with the next chapter, a touch more action in this chapter, I know we've not had too much of that lately, but I feel like this portion of our mechs and femmes' lives really had a lot of character development and development potential, and that's important to me. Be sure and give me loads of feedback, I love hearing your opinions and ideas! Also, yay! Six reviews this chapter! So happy about that!

Review Responses: To AllSpark Princess:Hate to disappoint, but the moment you're waiting for won't be coming for awhile still, but don't worry, our little TB is growing as a character and as an Autobot. She's had a lot of slag getting in her way though, so it's slow-going. Hope you enjoy the chapter!

To horseg27: I literally have so many feels for TeraQuake, like seriously, they're my children, my precious giant alien robot babies, I love 'em to bits. Writing these guys has become a part of my life, I don't know what I'll do when I finally finish... Good thing I won't have that to worry about for a long long time lol.

To Cashagon: Thank you for your input, and yeah, I guess that is pretty true, PG-13 is a broad category. Honestly, I surprise myself with the things I write sometimes lol. And yes, our TB has grown in wisdom, and unfortunately also bitterness and distrust, since the flashbacks, and her personal growth has been a bit hampered lately with her faction-flipping. But I'm pretty sure we're past that stage now, after all, there's only so many times a femme can switch sides.

To redlinevcr: No prob, here's the next one!

To ZabuzasGirl: Does this count as immediately? Probably not lol. I tried XD

To KHandFF7fanforever: First off, nice username, love KH myself lol. And aaargh, I know right? They just get so close and closer yet, but they've still not even kissed? I know I'm the writer, but really, the story is all theirs, and they just refuse to give any of us the satisfaction of tying the knot. But have no fear, the fluff will keep on coming (as well as good dose of angst) Enjoy the next chappie!

No one really knows why moons fall, or suns die, or planets fade. Perhaps they just do. Perhaps they grow weary of all the death and destruction and chaos in the universe and simply give up. Or perhaps it is simply the way of the universe, for all things to become, then be, then cease to be.

No one knew that it would happen, it was unexpected, yet altogether not. It was inevitable, no doubt, for the world of a people so eager to kill each other, to itself reach a point where it would die.

The superstitious and religious bots said Primus grew weary of their wars and carnage and thought it would end their pain if they with their world were slain. The scientific and logic-minded bots blamed the war for wasting the planet's resources, and wanton destruction of fuel supplies to spite the other side. They said that the people had torn out the planet's spark to spite its charred surface. And yet others, a very slim minority of those who had truly met the being within their world, or who had met those who had, said that perhaps Primus could no longer bear to see his children approaching the same fate that his own race had met millennia ago, and had fallen into a slumber to await either the end of the war, or the end of the beings who fought it.

In the end, it was all speculation. Only Primus knew why Cybertron went dark. Only Primus knew if he was angry, sleeping, or dead.

One thing, however, was painfully, dreadfully, oppressively clear to every last being on the planet…

Cybertron had died.

And it was their fault.

It had been a quartex since the light went out from their world. The darkness weighed heavily on them all, Decepticon, Autobot, neutral, mechs and femmes, bots and beasts all alike. The War had come to a screeching halt, a sort of eerie, unspoken peace. A mourning vigil over the planet.

Predator huddled alongside prey, Decepticon medics healed Autobot troops and vice versa. Battlefields came to an abrupt ceasefire and generals and tacticians and warriors from both factions sat together and shared a solemn cube of high-grade.

One would have thought in the midst of such a vicious, unrelenting war, the two factions would use the darkness and the shock as a cover to wreak more havoc and chaos than they ever could have when the planet was bright. But no such chaos reigned.

The world seemed to have stopped for that quartex. Every bot's sparks seemed to hover between pulses, hoping, waiting for the light to return to Cybertron. For Primus to recover, to forgive, to awake, to return. But even the Well of Allsparks was dark.

The light never returned.

Just as the whole world had come to the unspoken agreement to stand vigil for the quartex, so the world came out of the haze all at once in one mass exodus from the world. Battles returned and were fought and won and lost with a greater desperation and fury than ever before. Neutrals, Autobots, and Decepticons piled into whatever ships they could find and ran, scattered through the cosmos. Most left the War behind, they gave up on the hopeless, pointless war that destroyed their world. Others simply fought until their ships were destroyed or else floated aimlessly through the stars, piloted only by the dead.

The main forces of the Autobots and Decepticons that remained gathered in Iacon and Kolkular, preparing for their own departure. It would take them longer to leave now, for the panicked masses had taken all pre-existing ships. But in time all would leave that could, and Primus help those who remained.

At the tallest peak of Kolkular, one lone femme stood, gazing out over the dark, dark world in the midst of the silence that now came at only this groon. One groon every rotation that all of Cybertron fell silent save for the scurrying of the glitch-mice and the distant mourning bays of the turbo-wolves.

From the small femme a short strain of music, sung in a clear soprano, a sweet voice, yet so perfectly conveying the brokenness that all of Cybertron felt.

"Ages come and ages go…

Ages come and ages gone."

Nemesis

He watched the workings of the bridge with little interest, his scarlet gaze thoughtful. A small, silenced and abused part of his long-ignored spark burned with the loss of his brother. Again.

It had been good to see Orion again.

As though their paths had never strayed so far apart, as though holding each other at gun or sword point was not a common occurrence, as though they had not been warring against each other and slaying each other's subordinates for decavorns.

The great warlord sneered at the weak, foolish thoughts at the depths of his spark, minutely irritated and perplexed by their stubborn grip on him. To think that after all these decavorns, his spark still thought it had a conscience. Fool thing.

As if he, Unicron, destroyer of worlds, had a conscience.

Megatron scowled, shaking his helm fractionally and clasping his hands behind his back, walking the bridge and observing his troops. Such thoughts came to him, foreign thoughts, thoughts of Unicron's. He paid them no mind. He was Megatron, the Lord Protector, galactically renowned warrior of the Pits, he would not be bested by the Dark Energon that flowed through his frame and spark.

It gave him strength, Unicron was no more and his influence likewise.

"If it pleases you, Lord Megatron," The silver mech snatched his thoughts back to the present and glowered at the small, arachnoid femme. "Once Soundwave discovers a means of decoding the remainder of the Iacon database, as we know he will, I would suggest the deployment of an underutilized asset."

He took in her visage and posture with the meticulous gaze of an untrusting commander. Her pink optics gleamed with an unvoiced hatred and ambition, and the thin, bladed appendages protruding from her back were held with an air of disrespecting pride.

"And what asset would that be, Airachnid?" Megatron masked his weary exasperation well, feigning interest as though he didn't know what she wanted.

The black and purple femme bowed, her gold horns gleaming in the dim light of the bridge, "I believe that my superior tracking skills would expedite your quest for the remaining relics."

Predictable.

"Noted."

"You are a gracious audience, my lord." The spider's voice dripped with a venomous flattery, tainted by her scheming in a way that the foolish femme didn't realize he could recognize. He huffed, turning his back to her as she made her exit.

"Soundwave." Megatron turned to look at his ever-loyal silent CI head. Perhaps the only friend he had left in the wide, dark universe. "Remind me of her trustworthiness."

As was his wont, the mech merely replayed a voice record of the femme, "I believe we must consider the possibility of a future… without Megatron."

He stifled a sigh. The underlings were all fools. Those who lived through their disloyalty nearly never again questioned his supreme right to lead the Decepticons.

Excepting of course, Starscream. One had to give the pompous, snivelling fool of a Seeker some credit: he was persistent. No matter the beatings, the reprimands, the solitary confinement, the tortures, the death threats… It mattered not to his traitorous second. The warlord had a feeling he could tear the mech's wings off and lock him in the deepest, darkest, most vile pit in all the known cosmos and by Starscream's sheer power-lust and his seething hatred for Megatron himself, the Seeker would somehow manage to survive and return to continue being a pathetic, whining thorn in his side.

For that reason alone Megatron had allowed the Seeker to live so long. In his own wretched way, Starscream was a survivor just as much as he was.

Touching a servo to the side of his helm, the silver mech opened an audio-visual comm line to Dreadwing's command console. He scowled minutely at the Autobot gesture; being in the diminutive little traitor's helm had left a few, unnoticeable traces of her. Her processors were far stronger than he had anticipated when he had done that, an Earth year ago.

"Dreadwing."

"I am at your beck and call, my lord."

He nodded in acknowledgement, "I wish to entrust you with a task I would normally reserve for myself." Noting the look of suspicion in his protégé's optics, he smirked, continuing, "That is, if you wish to prove yourself worthy of becoming my first lieutenant."

Ambition always was Dreadwing's downfall. The mech seemed torn for a moment, a pain in his ruby optics that had not been there before. Megatron assumed that he must have met with his twin before returning to the Nemesis. Their reunion surely could not have gone well, but it was of no concern to him.

"That post belongs to Airachnid, my lord." The gold-faced mech's tone held a fraction of doubt.

"She will be missed," Megatron smiled cruelly, shrugging his spiked shoulders lightly. "And I suggest you bring backup, she can be a handful… especially when cornered."

Autobot Outpost Omega One – 2150 hours

Arcee stared off into the distance for a moment, then refocused her attention to the datapad in her hands. A small cord ran from the device to an appropriate slot in her wrist. By seemingly no interaction on her part, a report was appearing on the screen, moving, changing, and modifying itself as her processors dictated.

The little femme was comfortably seated on the Cybertronian-sized couch the bots had installed, reclining against Cliffjumper with her pedes draped over the arm of the couch. The red mech held a datapad in hand, but continually tilted it, occasionally leaning forward to peer into the screen, apparently playing a game of some sort. He had one arm around Arcee and the other rested on Skyquake's foot as the jet lounged over the rest of the couch, his wing tilted at a slightly odd angle to account for the sofa.

Along the back of the sofa, a second, smaller two-wheeler femme was sprawled like a cat behind the helms of those sitting on the couch, her dark blue helm gently resting against Skyquake's helm. Her optics were shut and her engine was humming with the soft purr of recharge. One arm, on which her helm was resting, stretched in front of her, its clawed servos curled around one of the flared gold tips of his sweeping optic ridges. Her thumb periodically rubbed across the smooth surface as she slept, her elven faceplates bearing a peaceful smile.

Bumblebee was sitting on the floor in front of Arcee, his gold helm leaned against the cushion. His black hand pressed a datapad into his faceplate, his engine rumbling with a heavy recharge. His other arm laid limp beside him, bent at a slightly uncomfortable looking angle where it had dropped when he fell asleep mid-report.

Lazily laying atop the jet's helm was a thin, pink-haired Asian girl, laying on her front, swinging her legs in the air behind her, arms draped loosely over the rounded crest of his fore-helm, watching him growl and fumble through writing his reports. He was clearly distracted, but the human girl using his helm as a bed seemed oblivious to the unhappily fluctuating vibrations of his EM field.

Every so often the girl would shift to get more comfortable and begin sliding off of his helm. Equally ever so often, the mech would absently reach up a gentle hand to return the girl to a safe position.

Raf was curled up against Bumblebee's spark, carefully positioned between the mech's chest plates that made up the front of his vehicle mode. The boy was awake, face illuminated by his laptop screen, glasses reflecting what could have been either some ingenious hobby or piece of his homework, most likely the former.

In Cliffjumper's lap, the third human sat, leaning against both his guardian and her partner equally, head back and eyes shut, though he didn't seem to be asleep. Two cords trailed from his ears.

Not far away, in the medical/research area set aside for Ratchet and Jetfire to do their work, the former lay slumped against a table, console in front of him streaming information to its unseeing owner. Nearby, Jetfire stood before his table, strewn with datapads and calculations and chemicals, both from Earth and otherwise. The white jet was intently studying a bubbling orange concoction, his expression somehow cheerful while still indicating that the experiment was in no way turning out as it ought to have.

Optimus leaned against the railing of the upper half of the base, watching his team with a fond smile. They had all been through so much, recently and otherwise. He had watched all of these bots develop from who they once were, and in Bumblebee's case, and to some extent Terabyte's also, he had watched them grow from younglings into the strong mechs and femmes that they now were.

The amusing, cosy sight before him was what the Prime, and the Matrix within him, was convinced would ultimately win the war for the Autobots. They were an army, yes, but they were also so much more than that. Even their newest recruits had come to realize and be accepted into that.

They were a family.

Forest: Location Unknown

"Am I the only one who considers this to be overkill on Lord Megatron's part?" Airachnid drawled, glancing back at the two massive mechs behind her with a quirked optic ridge.

She smiled, "I mean, dispatching two of his most proficient warriors to track down one unconfirmed Energon spike?"

"Megatron knows me and Dreadwing here will get the job done."

The arachnoid femme grinned, showing her sharp fangs. How cute, the puffed up mech actually thought he was a proficient warrior. He couldn't even take a couple of fleshies.

"Actually I was referring to Dreadwing and myself." Her grin widened as the cobalt ex-Wrecker swelled with indignation.

Her pink optics sparkled with delight in her mockery of the mech. Breakdown snarled at her, fists clenching as he prepared to lunge toward the spider, leisurely walking backwards through the woods with a nonchalant disregard to watching her back that no doubt heightened the grunt's displeasure. Airachnid's mono-clawed appendages swayed minutely, the lower two flicking in anticipation.

"Breakdown," Dreadwing rumbled, his voice warning, but holding the same hint of distraction the mech had had ever since he'd arrived. "Remain on task. This must be a unified effort."

Airachnid didn't care what his malfunction was, but it would make it easier for her to do some… dispatching of her own. Then again, the commander had the ear and – according to rumor anyway, however much truth could be attributed to the gossip – spark of the Lord Protector himself. He may yet be of use to her. His tone suggested that he had an underlying purpose he was reminding Breakdown of, but she had already figured that Megatron would have ordered her removal.

She could take a small pleasure in offing the dull one though. If Knockout was to be believed, the lug actually found her attractive as a prospective mate. Were the mech of a more useful position or intellect, the femme would have gladly played this to her advantage, but Breakdown was high in neither stature, rank, nor processing capacity.

If she had a spark, she would have almost pitied the mech. Killing him would be too easy.

"Indeed Breakdown," Airachnid said sweetly, taunting him, "I know we've never seen… eyes to eye, but that doesn't mean we can't, ah, patch things up?"

The mech roared with fury at her slighting jabs. She blinked her optics, waving an upper appendage and transforming into her more agile arachnoid form.

"That's it!" The Wrecker howled, charging after her with his mallet raised.

In the distance behind her, she heard Dreadwing call after his fellow mech, trying to calm the mech and bring him back to his senses, but Breakdown was too far enraged to heed his commander's orders. Shame really, those orders would have spared his life. But of course, she knew that he would go on a rampage if she prodded far enough.

Which led her to the fun part of her plan to lose the mechs. She darted through the trees with the ease and agility that came of being one of Cybertron's best trackers. Just for fun, she climbed one of the barer firs and ran along the branches, shooting a steadying web periodically when the branches were too far apart, and also to lead the mech on in the right direction.

Dreadwing had caught up to her and started firing on her, adding to Breakdown's sloppy, poorly aimed blasts.

Her proximity sensors warned her of weapon's lock just moments before the branch beneath her shattered, dropping her to the needle-covered earth with a painful crunch of one of her appendages snapping off as she rolled to lessen the impact.

Airachnid swore quietly, leaving off of taunting the mechs and shooting back a strand of webbing to block Dreadwing's gun barrel, then another large spattering of web that successfully snared the jet to the trunk of a particularly large tree trunk. She smirked. One down, one to go.

A smoking pinecone, annihilated by Breakdown's indiscriminate firing, urged the spider to keep on the move for awhile longer, a nice mound of boulders near the base of a rocky hillside revealing itself to her.

Perfect.

Mere moments later, her trap was prepared and she ran back out a ways towards where Breakdown was searching for her, his remaining optic tinged white with his fury.

She slowed, transforming to her bipedal mode, letting one of the ex-Wrecker's shots come close enough to her to seem a likely hit, feigning a dramatic cry of pain. The femme tripped and reached for her leg for effect, glancing over her shoulder as though in fear and limping towards the boulders and her ambush.

The fool wouldn't know what hit him. Until she made him of course. A quick kill never was any fun.

Right at the entry to the niche between the boulders, Airachnid stumbled, crying out again minutely as she collapsed to the ground. She looked up at Breakdown as he approached, a grin on his scarlet faceplate. She put as much fear as she could muster into her fuchsia gaze. It took more effort than she would have liked to wipe the anticipatory smirk from her violet lips.

"Easy prey." Breakdown hefted his hammer up with a chuckle, raising it to deliver a single, terminating blow.

She rose to her pedes as he took another step and found his pedes and hammer snared in a thin strand of web from between the two largest boulders framing the niche. If the mech had had the least bit of sense to observe his surroundings, the trap would have been plainly seen.

He strained against the sticky mess, then reached up to pull his hammer away, only succeeding in tangling his other arm in the gooey strands.

Airachnid sashayed up to the helpless mech, smiling cruelly as she raised her remaining five spider-like appendages, razor sharp claws gleaming in the rays of sun shining through the leaves. "I was just about to say the same thing. Fancy that."

Jasper, Nevada: Outskirts

The woman perched securely on the branch of the old tree behind the stable, if slightly run-down, little brick house out in the wilderness. The leaves shielded her lithe form, her golden eyes piercing through the shadows to focus on two figures in the yard. Like most homes in the area, the house had a ring of evergreen trees resembling pillars surrounding it as a windbreak, with a green yard carefully maintained within the ring.

A shock of red hair escaped the cap she'd added to her holoform for stealth purposes, fluttering in the gentle breezes that got through the windbreak. Her clothing was all specially programmed to blend perfectly with her surroundings, and she had a scarf of the same programming over her face, so that her eyes were all that gave her away.

Her physical frame was at the farthest edge of her holoform's range, a lone motorcycle in the desert, stowed behind an outcropping of stone and brush.

She felt a twinge of guilt in her spark. Optimus needed to know about this. She'd kept Taia's existence hidden for far too long. Granted, much had been going on. But if she was waiting for a free, convenient time, she'd be waiting till all were one.

Gold irises widened and narrowed in a distinctly inhuman manner, zooming in on the two humans playing in the grass.

One was Taia, a now nine year old girl with two long blond braids and a splattering of freckles beneath her hazel eyes. The girl was running around in brightly colored shorts and a t-shirt, squealing and laughing as the other human, a thickly built woman sprayed her hose alternately over her flowers and her daughter.

Terabyte watched with a little smile as the girl snuck around the corner of the house out of her caretaker's view and filled a bucket with water. The girl hefted the half-filled bucket with water up to her shoulder, wobbling slightly from the weight before running back out to where the bronze-haired woman had returned to watering her plants, wiping a bit of sweat from her tanned face.

After nearly losing her balance again, Taia flung the contents of the bucket on her caretaker, soaking herself as much as her mother with a giggle, running off as the woman instantly took up chase.

"Oi! Get yer lil tail ova here, ya lil rascal!" She recognized the heavily accented voice instantly from her conversation half a year ago.

The holoform went unnoticed as she continued to watch their play. The woman chased after her charge spraying water and teasing threats with equal liberality, whilst the young miscreant dodged and stumbled away with peals of laughter, now well and truly drenched.

Soon the woman caught her charge in a tackle, pulling both to the ground with a surprised shriek from Taia, before the woman started tickling her, making the child curl up on herself, writhing with giggles and futile attempts to escape.

With a wry smile, Terabyte allowed her holoform to dissipate, her awareness shifting back to her own frame and surroundings.

She missed those days.

But for now she had more pressing matters to attend to. And far less pleasant, she had no doubt.

Nemesis: Medbay

"I'm just a tad busy at the moment, in case it had escaped your notice." Knockout snapped, his patience wearing thin with the stammering Vehicon.

"I-it's a matter of d-d-delicacy, Doctor." The Vehicon mumbled, wringing the datapad in his clawed hands. "P-perhaps you'd like to take a moment to s-sit down?"

The medic rolled his optics, peeling his patient's spark-chamber cover off and setting it aside. His patient was an older Vehicon, one of the ones from early in the War, one of the rare firsts. The Vehicon's spark was fading, there wasn't much he could do about it, but it was still his job to try. He figured the mech had just a few more joors left in him.

"I am slightly preoccupied."

"B-but sir-!"

"Get out!" Knockout barked before venting and shifting his shoulder plates. His tone returned to his usual smooth drawl, "Unless you'd like to volunteer for the next procedure?"

The Vehicon shook his helm rapidly, darting out of the med-bay in a rush. Drones, fools every one of them. That one was more skittish than he thought the Decepticon force still had. Megatron had ordered all the drones put through rigorous testing and recycled if they failed. The tests were supposed to keep blubbering malfunctions like that out of the ranks.

It could hardly be considered humane, but no one could deny that it was effective. The weak ones only ended up dying in battle or being terminated before they could relinquish sensitive intel anyway. In a twisted way it could be considered a mercy, simply hastening the inevitable rather than drawing out their miserable existences.

Some orns that soothed his spark.

Knockout shook his helm minutely, examining the weakly pulsating spark laid bare before him. One had to give Primus credit for aesthetics, the Cybertronian spark was quite possibly the most beautiful thing in existence.

The red mech rolled his optics at himself, "In a philosophical mood today, aren't we?"

His medicon assistant warbled an inquiring tone, but received no more than a dismissing wave of his hand in reply. Why should he explain himself to another drone?

In truth, the Decepticons all told themselves that the Vehicons were drones, and he had a feeling the Autobots had swallowed that particular piece of propaganda hook, line, and sinker. If casualty reports and camera records were anything to go by. From what he'd learned of the Prime, or should he say, Orion Pax, he would be devastated if he knew.

Turning his attention back to his patient, Knockout swore under his breath, the nanites around the mech's spark chamber were already grayed. The life-En lines were fractured and dried up too. No wonder the mech's spark was fading, it was starved of energy. Nor was that something he could remedy.

"Get me an SPC, ASAP."

As the medicon rushed off to carry out his orders, the medic began prepping the spark for removal. It was a procedure he was well accustomed to by now. Not a standard procedure, and one the Autobots would shudder to hear of, it preserved the spark of a dying bot. The bot would still die, and who that bot had become would be lost, but the core of their being would live on to become another mech.

The effect it had on the spark was noticeable, but small, and the average spark could only withstand undergoing the procedure three or four times before the trauma caused the spark to cease. But in that way, a spark could live three or four times as long as it would normally, which was crucial in a faction that had lost most of its femmes to the neutrals.

Not that any bot in their right mind would want to reproduce in the middle of a War without end anyway.

Knockout carefully scooped the spark from its chamber with the net-like magnetic tool for that purpose, taking care to not touch the orb of life at any point. In the middle of releasing the spark into the preservation chamber, his communications line pinged.

Repeatedly, increasingly insistently.

"For the love of Cybertron would it kill to wait a nano?!" He snarled over the comm. link, not even bothering to see who the communication was from. More likely than not, it was that dim-witted Vehicon again, but he didn't particularly care if it was Megatron himself.

Completing the transfer and shooing the medicon away to put the SPC in storage for the time being, the medic sent the line to his console and glared at the caller. Who was in fact a rather displeased looking Lord Protector.

"You called, my lord?" Knockout asked, his voice tight and impatient.

"Breakdown was terminated in battle at 1300 hours."

Odd that Megatron himself would be making house calls, normally no one but Terabyte had ever bothered… "Did you just say Breakdown?"

Megatron raised an optic ridge at him, smirking slightly, "Do I need to break it down into simpler terms for you, Doctor?"

Knockout slammed his fist down on the end-call key, smashing the console with the weight of his grief. He stomped the few paces to where his tools lay scattered across the table, starting to put a stylus away before swearing at the top of his vocs and throwing the tray across the room.

Summoned by the clatter, a medicon stepped in only to be sent scurrying away with a scalpel lodged in his shoulder joint.

"Get out! All of you!" Knockout bellowed, kicking a berth in the direction of the door, "GET OUT!"

The medic punched the wall beside him one last time before sinking to the floor in defeat. Breakdown was gone.

"Stupid, two-bit, slagging oaf of a mech… The pit-spawned glitch finally went and got his useless aft offed."

His only friend… gone.

Autobot Outpost Omega One

"Enter."

Terabyte jumped at the Prime's summoning voice, straightening and tossing the pinecone she'd pulled from her knee joint into subspace. She had been standing outside the mech's office for nearly a breem, trying to tidy both her outside appearance and her mental preparations for this conversation.

A conversation that she had allowed herself to procrastinate for nearly a year now.

Casting one last judgmental glance over her slightly scuffed armor, the femme winced at the still-visible remnants of Taia's last artistic endeavor on her silver thigh.

"Terabyte?" Just as she had taken a step towards the threshold, the two-wheeler found herself face to waist with the Prime, causing her to start for a second time with his smooth baritone, "May I be of assistance to you?"

"Ori-Prime!" She choked out, bowing her helm in equal portions of difference and embarrassment. "My apologies, my, uh, Prime, I did not mean to disturb you by my presence."

He chuckled at her, his cobalt optics welcoming. Once again she couldn't help but notice the distinct difference of his field that had stayed with him ever since his bout with amnesia. It was a pleasant change, as though both Prime and Matrix had been refreshed with a new hope and passion for the cause.

It was encouraging.

He gestured her to the seat in front of his desk and returned to his own chair. After a moment's hesitation, the femme decided against protesting that she'd rather stand and instead sat down in the too-large chair in front of the too-large desk and clasped her hands in her lap awkwardly.

Optimus noted her stiffly straight posture, flared armor, and awkward hand placement with a small smile. The femme certainly was one for formality, she was a femme after Prowl's own spark.

A breem that felt like eternity ticked by before at long last Optimus prompted, "I would assume you came to discuss something with me?"

Terabyte cleared her vents, internally reprimanding herself for making a fool of herself. "Yes, sir. It is regarding the humans."

When she said no more for a moment, the scarlet and blue mech nodded his helm encouragingly.

"I may have neglected to inform you of a certain occurrence that I believe you would appreciate being aware of." She stated vaguely, adamantly staring at the Prime's grilled forehelm crest rather than meeting his optics.

Optimus shifted in his seat, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk, lacing his rectangular servos together. "Go on."

She vented softly, her armor retracting fractionally. "As you are no doubt aware, I habitually leave the base premises for a time of solitude and meditation in the forested reserve a few miles from Jasper. I also habitually patrol the town of Jasper prior to this time of meditation."

Terabyte paused for a moment, attempting to no avail to read the Prime's thoughtful expression. She straightened nervously, flaring her armor back out from where it had retreated closer to her frame.

"I may or may not have incidentally acquired a fourth human charge in these excursions. Sir."

Cobalt optics blinked at her. Gold optics shone wide in trepidation.

"What?"

The two-wheeler blinked at the out-of-character response. She shifted her pedes, her finials flickering with uncertainty. "A fourth human child has learned of our existence."

Optimus vented heavily, his optics clearly indicating his displeasure with her, though his EM field emanated a wisp of understanding that human children were incredibly resourceful and more difficult to stay hidden from.

"I take it this is a recent development?" His tone had gained a fraction of the weariness she was accustomed to the Prime's voice holding when he spoke to Cliffjumper. It also clearly indicated that he was assuming that it was not in fact a recent development.

She ducked her helm in shame, "Negative."

Prime sighed, brushing a servo over his crest, but before he could speak, the door to his office opened and Bulkhead came in with a clatter as he bumped into the door frame and rattled the door.

"Sorry." The large mech mumbled sheepishly. He checked the door for damages, then dumped a handful of datapads on the Prime's desk, "Me and Jackie's reports from the last month. Ish."

She felt her armor tighten against her will at the mech's presence, her frame shifting to a more submissive posture. Not fully submissive, but enough to make her point. Terabyte rose from her seat, sensing the Wrecker's change in field when he realized she was there. He growled minutely when she took a step towards the door, and subsequently towards him.

The olive mech cut the snarl short when his Prime cast him a disapproving look. Terabyte felt a wave of relief wash over her as she realized Optimus was aware of their contention.

Of course Optimus knew, she thought with a small twitch of her lips that might have been a smile under different circumstances. Her finials flickered and spread slightly from their defensively pinched position. He was the Prime, of course he knew. She was a fool to have thought that she could hide anything from the Matrix-bearer.

Bulkhead's scowl indicated that his thoughts mirrored her own, only he was much less pleased about the fact. "Anyway, that was it, the whole crew's in the rec room if you wanna come for a refuel."

Likely not intending for the Prime to hear him, he added darkly, "You can leave the Con freak."

With that, the Wrecker retreated, his heavy steps echoing through the hall as he stomped away.

Feeling his gaze on the top of her helm, Terabyte looked up to meet the Prime's optics, unsure of what he might say. He simply regarded her for a moment, one optic ridge raised inquiringly.

"Is there something you would like to tell me?"

Terabyte vented, contemplating whether or not she would be best off to send him the memory file of their clash. She also considered pinging Bumblebee to help her, but it would take him too long to come and would make the whole situation much more awkward. She could handle this on her own, she'd always been on her own, why now did she suddenly long for support?

No, this was something she needed to do on her own anyway.

Which begged to question if she ought to tell the Prime anything at all, because it was certain that he would try to mediate and solve the conflict. That was what he did, it was who he was.

"Bulkhead and I have had a… misunderstanding."

The little two-wheeler stepped out of the office, glancing back at the Prime as he followed suit. She hesitated for a moment, allowing Optimus to take the lead, slipping back to her place of comfort to the right of the mech, her shorter stride keeping her slightly behind the mech.

"However, I am confident that with more time to prove my loyalty, he will see reason once again." A faint flick of her finial belied her uncertainty.

Optimus hummed gently, his engine giving a little rumble. "You have more than proven your loyalty, Terabyte. I will consult Bulkhead on the matter."

She shook her helm swiftly, "Negative, my Prime… Optimus… Intervention will only bury the issue, rather than resolving it. Bulkhead must come to trust me on his own or not at all."

"Very well." The Prime looked at her with an almost fatherly gleam of pride in his cobalt optics. "On the previous topic, I would like a full report on this new human charge you have acquired."

"Yes sir." She bowed minutely as they walked.

The leader of the Autobots attempted to make conversation a few times, but neither of them being wont to small talk, they soon fell into a companionable, if slightly awkward, silence.

After a few klicks, they arrived at the rec room, their audials instantly being greeted with a boom of laughter from primarily Skyquake and Cliffjumper, though Arcee and Bumblebee's voices could be heard as well.

Optimus stepped into the rec room threshold and the room went quiet for a moment before Cliffjumper waved them in with a grin, "C'mon, Boss Bot! Pull up a chair!"

The scarlet and blue mech tilted his helm and stepped in, but glanced back at her when she hesitated. He met her optics, indicating with his helm that she come with him.

She shook her helm, clasping her servos behind her back, "If it is all the same to you, I have reports to catch up on."

Her spark gave a guilty jolt when she realized that Skyquake had seen her. His ruby optics watched her every move carefully, his wing posture expectant, almost pleading. She shook her helm again, imperceptibly, taking a deep vent as her spark rolled in protest. He needed her by his side now more than ever, his spark had to be breaking from keeping his brother out.

Soon everyone in the room was watching her. Bumblebee, Cliffjumper, Arcee, and the kids all beckoned her in, while Wheeljack gave a little shrug and took a swig of his Energon. Even Ratchet and Jetfire had taken a break from their reports and lab work that seemed all consuming. Bulkhead gave a low growl, earning him a raised optic ridge from the other Wrecker and a snarl from the green jet.

"The reports can wait, Terabyte." She met the Prime's gaze, smiling faintly in return to his encouraging smile. He went on, "Family takes higher priority than paperwork, does it not?"

"Family?" Terabyte repeated skeptically, she hardly thought she fit into that category, how many times had she had the medics change her insignia now?

A bark of laughter drew her gaze to Wheeljack, who waved an arm in a rough gesture inward, "For Pit's sake, get your aft in here, femme."

With a gracious bow, the little two-wheeler finally acquiesced to the peer pressure, pulling up a seat between Skyquake and Bumblebee, pausing to scoop Raf up into her lap. Optimus took the last seat between Arcee and Jetfire.

The whole table was silent for a moment before Terabyte bolted upright suddenly, passing Raf to Sky and bowing slightly to the Prime, "The usual, sir?"

Prime nodded with little thought to it, listening with interest to the story Wheeljack had gone back to telling about a prank he and Whirl had pulled on Magnus. The smallest femme pretended to ignore the sour feeling in the bottom of her tanks.

One would think that with as much experience as she had with making mistakes, she would have learned to be forgiving by now. To let the past be the past. Perhaps one day she would, but she had a feeling that day would not come for many vorns.

A moment later she came back with two cubes of Energon, one large cube swirling with a generous portion of copper flecks and one small cube a dull gray from the medical mixture Ratchet had given her.

"That looks like slag." Arcee commented helpfully, indicating her cube.

She grimaced slightly, "It tastes about the same."

Optimus tilted his helm at the glittering cube of Energon that contained nearly equal portions of Energon and copper flecks. His expression was bemused, yet pleased as he gave her a little smile, "A little Energon with the copper?"

"As you like it." Terabyte replied, a hint of laughter in her tone.

Glancing over, Prime and lieutenant found Ratchet nearly grinning at the both of them. The expression unnerved her minutely, having never seen the medic smile fully. After a moment the medic broke out into a full laugh.

The medic calmed down after a few klicks of the whole team watching him with varying degrees of surprise, "For as long as I've known you- Primus! I could never figure out why your energy levels spiked so regularly."

Skyquake picked up the Prime's cube of Energon and gave it a swirl, chuckling, "Well who would've guessed, the high and righteous Prime of the Autobots is a right copper-tank. Much as you're a silver glossa, Tera'."

She regarded the glittering liquid that was the Prime's fuel, wondering briefly if he would be angry with her for bringing humiliation to him. In spite of herself the young femme giggled, "Oh no Sky, you know I would rather eat my silver undiluted by fuel."

Suddenly the femme's gold optics went wide, "Oh! Scrap, I completely forgot I had silver drops from my sparking day still!"

Whipping the box from her subspace, Terabyte counted how many drops she had left… Nine. Terabyte stifled a wistful sigh and started handing one to everyone, even Bulkhead accepted one, refusing to meet her gaze and clearly only taking it by Wheeljack's insistence.

When she got to Ratchet, he met her optics, "You know Agent Fowler will not give us any more silver for these, right?"

Terabyte smiled at him, nodding, "How often are we all off shift? This calls for a treat."

Once she'd given everyone a silver drop she put the box away and sat back down, taking a sip of her medicated Energon, beaming as the rec room was filled with satisfied hums and moans of delight as the silver melted on their glossas.

"You missed your calling, Doc-bot." Cliffjumper declared, licking his servos, "Confectionary art's in your life-En."

"You eat yours already, kid?"

The two-wheeler looked up at the tri-colored Wrecker incredulously, him being the last mech she'd have expected to notice. Sky, or Bumblebee, or the Prime, but not Wheeljack.

A mix of emotions ran across her faceplates fluidly, ending with a puzzled, but pleased little quirk of her lips. Terabyte let it grow into a smile, fond memories of her childhood overriding the bitterness in her spark.

"My carrier worked at the silver factory in Protihex… Every time she gave me sweets, she would tell me the same thing: Silver is sweet, little one, but you know what is sweeter than silver?"

She laughed, coolant brimming her optics, but she couldn't bring herself to stop talking. No doubt she would later wonder whatever overcame her to make her open up so much to Wheeljack of all mechs. Something about that precise moment, laughing and enjoying time with them. Or perhaps it was merely that she had gone mad from all of Ratchet's slag-like concoction.

Her spark was humming contentedly in her chest and she felt more at home than she had in vorns.

"The only thing sweeter than silver is sharing it with the bots that you love."

Optimus nodded, wiping a bit of copper from his mouth with an almost sheepish smile, bringing on another round of laughter.

"Family."

What a concept, Terabyte thought. One she could get used to though.