A/N: Sorry for the late chapter! Surprise vacation.

NordicAutobotGirl: Yes... he's nice... I've always liked him, so, he's a pretty good guy in my story. :D And I'm glad you get Predaking's connection with his past self... creepy is a good thing, at least to me!

Marf.

Darkflame's P.O.V. - Four human months later -

I lay on the berth, left servo draped off the side. I swung it slowly in boredom, listening to the empty 'tick tick tick' of the small earth clock Agent Fowler insisted on keeping around.

Once more, the base was empty, save for Ratchet, and the bots had gone on another mission. Dunebreaker had returned to his 'royal army' that may or may not have existed, but he would return in a few cycles. My vents sighed, and I swung my servo harder. It smacked into the underside of the berth, and I yelped, causing Ratchet to jump and curse.

"Frag it, Darkflame!" The small machine the medic held in his servos sparked and whined despondently. I murmured sorry, beginning to swing my hand again, careful to keep it low enough that there would be no more banging, yelping, or cursing. On the other hand, there was actually something going for a few kliks that was interesting! Should I do it again? I tossed the consequences about in my mind for a moment, before deciding a wrench to the helm was too much for a little bit of fun.

What now?... I swung my legs off the berth silently, biting my lip component at the pain that wormed its way through the meds. Standing slowly, I shuffled as quietly as possible towards Ratchet, hunched over slightly to keep from stretching my wound open again. Ratchet muttered something to himself, turning slightly to better reach a small tool. I froze, hoping he hadn't seen me out of the corner of his optic.

He hadn't.

I resumed my slow pace, reaching his right side quickly. I waited for a moment, then said loudly, "What are you doing?" Ratchet fairly screamed, sending his little machine and tools flying. The machine smashed against the floor, and I watched it with unblinking optics before turning to the angry medic.

"WHAT. ARE. YOU. DOING?! And standing up no less!" Ratchet shouted, grasping my arm and tugging me towards the berth. "I was bored. Can I go outside the base?"

"NO! You are never leaving that medbay again!"

"What if Decepticons attack?"

"You're staying inside!"

"What if Optimus Prime calls me out?" Ratchet faltered for a moment.

"Ignore him then!"

"What if you're dying and I'm the only one who can save you?"

"THEN-" Ratchet sighed. "Okay, I was a bit overdramatic. But you MUST refrain from moving about too much! You'll split open your welds!" I set my peds, resisting against his insistent tugs. "I would like to go outside for a joor or two."

The red-and-white medic sighed again. "Stray more then five feet from the door and you're coming right back inside." "Ratchet." I tapped his shoulder. "What?" "My ped is bigger then five feet."

Taking my servo, Ratchet dragged me outside, then drew a line in the dirt a little ways from the base. "Don't go past this line. Don't go around it, over it, under it. Stay here until I or Optimus call you."

I nodded, laying down carefully in the hot sun. Better. Much better.

In the past:

Fireflare swooped low, his battalion following in perfect formation, just like they had practiced for so many joors back on Harsen. He scanned the strange, organic landscape below him, searching for any sign of the Avians.

The enemy Predaconians had taken refuge on this small mud-ball planet, and hadn't been seen since. Fireflare was under orders to scout out some of their camps, then report back to the large battle ship that was heading slowly towards the small planet. But so far, there had been nothing, not even a brief sighting.

"Commander Fireflare!" Storm's Fury, his Second-In-Command, called up to him, motioning with his head to the south. The sunlight was glinting off something, possibly a Predaconian.

Fireflare tilted his metallic wings, easing southward. He flew up into the clouds, hiding his group from enemy optics below. Quickly reaching the shiny object, they paused, hovering midair as they viewed the strange sight.

The metallic skeleton of a Avian Predacon lay bare before them, not a single bit of protoform attached. "This... this is impossible!" Storm's Fury said, disbelieving optics on the skeleton. "It takes many stellar-cycles for a Predaconian's deceased frame to fully melt away! What would a lone Avian be doing out here, and how would it have died?"

The questions roused curiousity within Fireflare's processor, and he motioned the group down. They cautiously landed, glancing about before inspecting the skeleton. Quicken, one of the smallest soldiers, tapped the bones. They flickered in and out of vision. Dread flashed through Fireflare like a lightning bolt. "It's a trap!" He roared, thundering into the sky. His battalion rose swiftly behind him, Avians shooting out of the foliage beneath them.

A Avian slammed into Quicken, both Predacons crashing into the thick, organic growing stuffs below. "Attack!" Fireflare roared, fire streaming from his mouth. He followed his own advice, slashing large claws across a Avian's faceplates. Blinded, the large Predacon clumsily flew beneath him, Fireflare in hot pursuit. He clamped his jaws over the feathered tail, swinging the Avian into a cliff-face.

Metal crunched as the enemy's faceplates were dented in, causing him to fall into stasis. Fireflare leaped back up into the air, searching for a new target. Storm's Fury was facing two at a time, but he was fine for the moment. Fizzle and Sizzle, twin Predacons, were fighting a losing battle. They all were, as two more Avians joined the first two that were fighting Storm's Fury.

We're outnumbered, quantity over quality. Fireflare thought morosely, heading to help Storm's Fury. Fire splashed over the frames of the Avians as he dive-bombed the four enemy Predaconians. I've got to survive this. I promised her I would... I promised...

Darkflame's P.O.V.

A groundbridge's whoosh woke me, and I stretched, forgetting for a moment I had wounds. Once the pain subsided to a tolerable level, I stood slowly. Glancing up, I was startled to see Dunebreaker watching me. "How long have you been there?" I asked suspiciously. "Since I've come back." I narrowed my optics at the strange reply.

"I was fine. No need to guard me." Dunebreaker shrugged, wrapping his tail around my servo and gently tugging me forward. "Doesn't matter." I pulled his tail free with some level of difficulty, then began to walk slowly towards the base's door.

It was silent for a moment, then Dunebreaker pulled a item from his subspace. "I, ah, have something. It's very rare." He held a strange-looking crystal out towards me. Sniffing it suspiciously, I looked at him. "It smells familiar. What is it?"

"It doesn't really have a name in any language, except the language of the Ancient Primes and the Flamars."

"The Flamars... Ah! It's called onytone, isn't it?"

"Yes. But, if one were to translate it from the Ancient Primes' language, it would be called 'fire stone'."

"I see. But what does it do, exactly?"

"It heals at a quick rate, but due to its rarity and... rather painful way of healing, it is not used much."

I took the onytone in servo and stared at it. Its depths pulsed with a strange yellow light, while the surface was covered in a filmy sheen. I tapped it gently, and it vibrated softly for a moment, emitting a high-pitched squeal. I tapped it again, harder, and a louder squeal was produced, causing my audios to tingle. I raised my digit to tap again, but Dunebreaker put his servo over mine, preventing the action.

"Don't. If hit hard enough, the crystal will emit a hypnotizing and audio-damaging tone. If a large enough onytone is hit hard enough, it could resonate with a spark's frequency and kill the spark's owner."

Ishuddered, handing the onytone back to Dunebreaker. He declined, saying, "It is for you, Darkflame, to use as you wish."

Subspacing it, I thanked him with a nod. "I am not sure whether or not I would like to use it upon myself, however." I said hesitantly, glancing up at him to see if he was offended. He nodded. "It would be wise to keep it until a great emergency arises."

We entered the base, and Dunebreaker escorted me to my berth in the medbay. "I shall stay here for the moment, you need to recharge."

"But I just did recharge for a while." I replied, laying down.

"No matter. It shall quicken the healing process."

Closing my optics, I was surprised to find that recharge came swiftly. Good recharge, my sheekn. The whispered words resonated softly in my helm. I knew it wasn't Dunebreaker, somehow, but the words comforted me for an odd reason. Recharge...

A/N: Well, this is a good chapter, in my opinion!

May StarClan light your path!