Sam, Mikaela, and their group had stopped for their high-stakes game of telephone when they were less than half an hour's drive from the cottage. Sam had fallen asleep long enough to deliver Alpha Trion's message to Optimus, and before he knew it they were pulling into the driveway.

"The solar storm will begin any minute," Sam said. "You all should get into your cometary forms as soon as we're out of your cab."

"We're shielded by the globe itself right now," RaFly pointed out through the radio.

"Still, I don't want you to take any chances. Pull whatever we'll need overnight from subspace and leave the rest." Glancing in the rearview mirror at the al-Sharifs, Sam explained, "This solar storm will be big enough it could potentially hurt our friends if they're not wrapped up in their own, personal Faraday cages, too. We need to unload straight onto the ground so they can change shape."

Habib nodded in understanding, while Anahita blinking looked around. Clearly, Sam hadn't been the only one sleeping in the car.

When RaFly rolled to a stop, her doors and trunk opened. Bumblebee transformed to his full height, making Anahita squeak in surprise and freeze, shielding herself with the car door.

Mikaela noticed and said, "Okay, let's get this over with now…" She walked toward 'Bee and held her hands up like a toddler wanting to be picked up. "Come on, 'Bee, give me a lift."

He carefully scooped her up, and Mikaela said to Anahita, "Yeah, he's big and scary, but he's also gentle and kind. He's only fierce to those who are trying to hurt us. He's our protector. Same thing with Radio Flyer and Wheelie. "

"Damn straight," Wheelie said, producing a box of food and two water bottles from his subspace.

Anahita slowly nodded, and Mikaela said to 'Bee, "Okay, set me on the porch."

RaFly dumped the contents of the trunk onto the gravel of the driveway and then transformed to her full height, too.

Anahita scurried to Mikaela's side, while Sam started gathering the al-Sharifs' supplies. Habib stared awestruck at Bumblebee (who produced two sleeping bags, two pillows, two backpacks, and an air mat from subspace) until the Autobots all dropped down in their egg-shaped cometary forms.

With a half-smile, Sam hauled a couple of backpacks and a cooler toward the front porch. A few heartbeats later, Habib stooped to pick up gear as well.

Inside the trailer, Anahita cranked the air conditioning, saying over her shoulder, "Let's enjoy it while it lasts."

"Agreed," Mikaela said.

"You need to rest," Anahita said. "The bedroom in the back is shaded the longest in the morning and will be the coolest."

"Thank you so much," Sam earnestly said. Then he gathered their two backpacks and followed his wife down the hall. He and Mikaela brushed their teeth and she was already in pajamas and in bed before she remembered their pillows were still in the living room. There were two on the bed, but Mikaela needed three to actually get comfortable.

As Sam headed out to the front of the trailer, he overheard Habib's voice and froze when he recognized the words, "Ya Allah." Habib was speaking that unfamiliar language again, but then he said something that included "Samuel" and "Mikaela Witwicky." A few words later, Sam caught "djinn" and then "Bumblebee," "Radio Flyer," and "Wheelie." Wondering who he was talking to, Sam peeked around the corner and saw him kneeling, with his hands together like a cup and lifted in the air.

He was praying. For them. All of them, including the Autobots.

Sam let out a surprised, almost-silent, "Oh!" when he realized that. He'd never expected anyone to pray for Bumblebee.

Habib apparently didn't hear him (or just ignored the interruption) and continued in that unfamiliar language, though Sam thought he caught "Mohammed" and "Ayesha."

Sam tiptoed the last two steps to reach the pillows and then retreated back down the hallway, letting him pray in peace. Sam wasn't a religious person, but he felt inclined to agree with Bumblebee. He didn't exactly have faith in a higher power, but his faith in humanity was restored.

Once again, Sam found himself staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. He'd been getting all kinds of weird feels from Optimus – mostly a checked-out sensation that vaguely reminded him of how he felt right after he got his wisdom teeth pulled. That had been his first (and hopefully only) experience with anesthesia and it had left him somewhere between stoned and loopy. It was not a comfortable thought that Optimus might be feeling that way. Regardless, his brother wouldn't be joining him in his dreams that night.

Sam heard someone rattling around in the kitchen and decided Mikaela would probably sleep better without him tossing and turning anyway.

Tiptoeing down the hall, he blinked against the electric light coming from the range hood. "Hello?"

"I'm sorry I woke you," Anahita said from the table.

"You didn't," Sam answered, walking into the little dining room.

She held up her glass and rattled the ice in it. "Would you like something cold to drink?"

Sam sat opposite her. "I'm good, thanks."

She nodded and took a sip from her own glass. "I was thirsty and I realized that if I didn't get a drink of ice water now, I probably wouldn't be able to get another one until October."

Sam half-smiled. "There's still hope. But I don't blame you for erring on the side of caution."

"You were so certain that we are facing the end of the world."

"That was before…" he sighed, unsure how to explain all the stuff with Alpha Trion and bond dreams without sounding crazy.

"Mohammed and Ayesha made it to Dearborn," she suddenly said, holding up her phone to show the text message exchange. "I told him we had visitors and were here at the lake. I also told him to not send you my way again without giving me proper notice first. The house was a mess."

Sam chuckled. "I guarantee none of us were judging your housekeeping skills."

"Perhaps not," she allowed, smirking and lifting her glass for another sip, "but still. I was entertaining djinn. It's the principle of the thing."

"Maybe I will have some ice water," Sam said with a smile, standing and heading toward the fridge.

"Glasses are to the right of the sink. And we're old-fashioned out here and have to use ice cube trays."

He worked in companionable silence and then returned to sit opposite Anahita.

"Your wife is an amazing woman," she said softly. "To let a…a metal djinn pick her up like that…"

"That's nothing," Sam said, bragging just a smidge. "She's fought them – the bad ones, that is. She even has a kill count."

Anahita looked sharply toward the hallway in surprise before smiling wryly and taking another sip of water. After a moment, she said, "Still, a woman in her last few weeks of pregnancy is vulnerable in ways she isn't at any other time in her life. Her body doesn't respond like she's used to, and the center of gravity is all wrong. Even I, who have never so much as slapped anyone, was acutely aware at the end of each of my pregnancies that I could not defend myself if I were attacked. If she is a fighter, she must know that even more clearly. It speaks to her trust in Bumblebee."

"Yeah, we all trust him, and with good reason." Sam thought about how calm and collected Mikaela had been all day. Even when talking about why they might need baby formula. "She seemed fine, though. If anything, she organized our escape."

"I am glad," Anahita said, nodding slowly. "I hope you're right. I would have been terrified to face such a devastating future while I was that pregnant." She finished her water and rising to her feet, she set the empty glass in the sink. "If there really is hope…" After a moment's hesitation, she plugged in the coffee maker on the counter and said, "If we wake up to coffee in the morning, then the world didn't end."

Sam grinned and raised his glass in salute. "Here's hoping."

"Here's hoping," she agreed, heading toward the hallway. "Goodnight, Sam."

When Sam startled awake, the first thing he noticed was that he was not lost at sea. He was in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room, with the gray of morning just shifting to blue outside his window. The birdsong was a wild cacophony – there's no way they were in D.C. Then he remembered: they were at the lakeside cottage owned by Habib and Anahita al-Sharif.

Relief crashed over him and he relaxed back onto his pillow.

Judging by the fact that Mikaela was still softly snoring next to him, he probably hadn't murdered Megatron in the last little bit, either. Though come to think about it, he couldn't come up with any context in which killing Megatron could be considered murder, not with all the horrific things the mech had done. Either way, it was a relief that his restless, anxiety-fueled dreams hadn't been real.

The second thing he noticed was the smell of coffee.

Mikaela stirred, and Sam leaned over to give her a gentle kiss good morning. "Hey, beautiful," he whispered.

"Hey, famous," she murmured, rolling over onto the side facing away from him. "What time is it?"

"Twenty past the apocalypse and the coffee maker still works," he triumphantly declared. "I don't have any cell signal, and I'll have to fill out the usual paperwork for Habib and Anahita, but all things considered, I'm thrilled."

She jerked halfway up to sitting and then flopped back onto the bed. "Ugh!" she grunted and muttered, "At least whales are graceful sometimes." Rolling over to face him again, she asked, "How?"

"The staff of Alpha Trion. Optimus had what he needed all along, but we didn't know it until I drifted off on the drive out here and Alpha Trion crashed my dreams."

"Who?" she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"He was Optimus'..." Sam paused, trying to figure out the best way to explain the relationship between the two mechs. "His mentor, I guess you could say. And they were kin. Alpha Trion was a Prime and didn't know it. Ultra Magnus brought the staff to Optimus not knowing it was a sword made by Solus Prime."

"Primus," Mikaela grumbled, rubbing her eyes and blinking. "I need a cup of coffee just to be able to keep track of everyone. Who is Solus Prime?"

Sam smiled, knowing how she'd receive this news. "Solus was a femme who was one of the original thirteen Primes."

"A femme?" Mikaela asked, astounded. "And I thought Jetfire said there were seven Primes in the beginning."

"Sure, in the beginning. But their mates were also Primes. Solus made all kinds of crazy stuff, things designed to counteract Unicron, so we weren't sure at first what the staff was. But it's part of a sword, and that sword allowed Optimus to save Earth!"

"So…so we're not going to be knocked back by more than a century?"

"Nope!"

Mikaela covered her mouth and her eyes started tearing up.

This was not how he expected her to respond.

Her breath caught and she started crying – just holding her baby-belly and sobbing.

Sam caressed her face, stroked her hair, and kissed her forehead or cheek from time to time, trying to help her calm down. Eventually, she pulled herself together enough to say that she needed to use the bathroom. Sam helped her to her feet, and she was stoic the whole way from their room to the bathroom and back, but she took one look at Sam's worried expression and started crying again.

Sam scrambled to his feet and just held her. He desperately wanted to fix whatever was wrong, but he wasn't entirely sure what that was.

And of course that's when Optimus' anger would punch through the battle protocols and the bond-block that came with them. Whatever was going on was too far away for Sam to do anything about, but he could be there for Mikaela. Harnessing that anger, he slammed down a block on his own end of the bond, cutting off the flow of emotion. Enough, he mentally told himself. It was kind of interesting because Sam knew Optimus' battle rage was still there, but instead of pouring into him, it fed the block.

Pulling his mind away from that, he focused on the woman in his arms. She clung to him and cried until his shirt was wet, and he didn't even care. This was (miraculously) his Mikaela, and the thought that they would likely be having a normal delivery of a hopefully-healthy baby in just a few weeks filled him with overwhelming gratitude and relief, even if he wasn't sure yet why she was crying. It took her a while – longer than he expected – to cry herself out, and then there was a tentative knock on the door.

"Breakfast is ready whenever you are," Anahita said.

"Thanks, we'll be out in a few minutes," Sam answered.

Mikaela sniffled and stepped back, wiping her nose with the back of her hand since there wasn't any Kleenex in the room. "Sorry," she said between gasps of breath. "Sorry about that."

"No, don't be. I'm just worried about you."

She gave him a watery smile. "And confused?"

"Yeah…" Sam slowly said.

"Me, too," she answered. "I mean, I know the emotional pregnant lady is a total cliche…"

"I'm the last person to accuse you of going soft because of pregnancy hormones," Sam defensively said. "I was bragging about you killing Decepticons to Anahita last night. Not that you always have to be strong but I know that you are strong no matter how much you might bawl your eyes out and…"

"Sam," she said, shaking her head and laughing to herself. "Shut up." Then she stood on tiptoe to lightly kiss him. "I'm just relieved. Really relieved. And hungry."

"Got it," Sam said, feeling her smile warm him through. "Let's get you some breakfast." His hand on the door-handle, he paused and looked back at her. "Just don't ever be embarrassed to share your tears with me, okay? That's what I was trying to say."

As Sam got Mikaela settled into her chair at the kitchen table, there was a sharp rap on the front door. Habib went to answer it and then shouted in surprise. Wheelie stood there in his root mode, hands on his hips. "Yep, we're all alive out here still, thanks for asking," he snarkily said.

"Wheelie," Mikaela said around her mouthful of eggs, "who's my good little Autobot? Come here."

Rolling his eyes, Sam went to encouragingly clap Habib on the shoulder. "You good?"

"Yes. No heart attacks allowed today," he firmly answered.

"Good," Sam said with a smile, because Bumblebee and RaFly were both taking advantage of the hedge of mature blue spruces and transforming to their full height.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. al-Sharif," Radio Flyer said with a nod of her helm.

"You all feeling okay?" Sam asked, walking down the stairs to stand next to 'Bee. "The storm didn't hurt you?"

"Fit as a fiddle!" 'Bee quoted. "Healthy as a horse!"

"There's still enough ambient charged particles to interfere with our comms," RaFly added, "but the signal would get through for the most part. It appears your intel about the staff was accurate. We are fine, and we're the ones being exposed most directly to the solar storm right now."

"And we still have electricity," Habib said with satisfaction, "including air conditioning and refrigeration."

"The world…is saved!" 'Bee cheerfully quoted, but then his antennas abruptly fell back in dismay.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked.

"Cliff…jumper."

Sam nodded and sympathetically rested a hand on Bumblebee's leg. "It's thanks to him that we're okay. Him and how many others, both human and Autobot."

"Unknown," Bumblebee quoted, "but it's a lot." He reached down and very gingerly ruffled Sam's hair.

Sam understood the affection behind the gesture and the worry about his own, human lifespan that tempered it. Looking up at 'Bee, he said, "We'll need to figure out a fitting memorial, when the time's right."

'Bee made a hum of agreement and straightened. Then Sam looked at Habib. "So…when did you say Mohammed and Ayesha are going to get here?"

"They should arrive in time for lunch," Habib answered.

Hearing that, Bumblebee sank to sitting cross-legged on the grass. "Got any other questions you wanna ask?" he quoted John Wayne.

Sam looked to Habib. "He means you."

He laughed in disbelief and then reached for a camp chair off the front porch before sitting down himself. "Only a million or two."

Radio Flyer gave the signal, and the Autobots hurried to drop into their alt-forms and activate their holoforms. Mohammed and his family pulled in to find Habib staring slack-jawed at a yellow Camaro and a nondescript station wagon, while Cam Romero and Rebecca Segretti struck up a sudden conversation with Sam.

Anahita came out to the yard to greet her son and daughter-in-law with open arms and kisses, and she gave her grandchildren tight hugs and sweets, which Ayesha protested since the boys hadn't eaten lunch yet.

"Well, let's give them some lunch then!" Anahita said. With a conspiratorial smile for the boys, she added, "Let's make some macaroni and cheese."

The boys cheered, but Ayesha grumbled something about toxic American diets. Nonplussed, Anahita ushered everyone inside – including the holoforms. Anahita was thrilled, though, when Ayesha mentioned that she'd found a henna cone left over from Eid al-Fitr in Anahita's freezer and had brought it for fun. They talked with Mikaela about applying henna on her at some point that afternoon, since it was so cooling for the body.

In a nod to Ayesha's nutritional sensibilities, Anahita cut up the two oranges they had among them into "smile" slices and added some cucumber spears to the boys' plates along with the mac and cheese. She offered some oranges and cucumbers to the holoforms, but after 'Bee and RaFly exchanged a glance, RaFly said, "We're good, thank you."

"In fact," Wheelie's holoform added, "we were just about to head down to the lake for some fishing. We'll be back later."

In a text to Sam, Bumblebee explained, /We're underfoot, so we'll just get out of the way for a while. Let us know if you need us./

/Will do,/ Sam replied.

Through it all, Mikaela watched on with a faint smile and a reassuring hand on her baby bump, and it warmed Sam's heart to see her, well, herself again.

It started raining before they finished eating, and Sam expected things would get crazy in the little trailer with a five-year-old and a three-year-old who had been cooped up in a car for way too long over the past two days. "How long do you think we'll be stuck inside?" he wondered.

"Let's find out," Ayesha answered and casually pulled out her phone to check a weather app.

It was such an unremarkably normal thing to do that Sam sat there blinking for a few seconds. Compared to what could have been happening right now, Ayesha complaining about the slow WiFi was almost mind-blowingly ordinary.

After a few seconds, she lifted her gaze from the phone and announced, "We're in luck! Scattered afternoon showers, and really only for the next hour. This is just a passing cloud."

Sam looked around the room to see if anyone else felt the strangeness of the moment, and Mikaela, Habib, Anahita, and Mohammed were all looking as stunned as he felt.

Only a small number of people knew Earth's own sun had been turned against them and that an alien invasion had been averted by what basically amounted to those same aliens' divine intervention. It seemed strange to Sam that the rest of the world would go on its merry way, completely oblivious to how close humanity came to being overrun and maybe even wiped out. Even with the intense cover up after both Mission City and The Fallen's havoc, people knew something had happened. This time, the near-miss of an apocalypse would be a blip in most people's memories, barely noticed (if that) and quickly forgotten.

Breaking the spell, Anahita focused on her grandsons, her eyes even brighter than usual. "Let's go for a walk in the rain and see all the beauty Allah has created here."

"Can we catch frogs again?" Haris, Mohammed's oldest, exclaimed.

Little Sufian crouched down like a frog and then jumped, shouting, "Ribbit! Ribbit!"

"Well they're going to be a handful. I'll come with you," Ayesha said. "Let's leave the menfolk to do the washing up while Mikaela rests."

Habib shook his head with an indulgent smile. "You should have been named Aden, not Ayesha," he said. Sam didn't get the joke, but it sounded like he was teasing.

"Ah, Abi!" she laughed and waved him away, instead focusing on fishing an umbrella out of the trailer's coat closet. "Come on, boys. Are you about ready, Ommi?"

Anahita finished tying on some walking shoes. "Coming, coming."

The door closed behind them and the room got a lot quieter. (Sam suddenly realized he could hear the rain on the roof – something the attic in their DC townhouse didn't allow.) "What was that about Ayesha's name?" Mikaela asked from the couch.

"Her name means 'Alive' or 'Lively' in Arabic," Mohammed explained with a grin as he started clearing the dishes from the table. "Aden means 'fiery.' I'm sure you can all appreciate my father's sense of irony."

Mikaela chuckled. "I dunno. 'Lively' fits her pretty well, too."

Habib nodded and then froze. Eyes wide, he turned to his son. "Haris."

With a puzzled expression, Mohammed said, "What about him?"

"You told me you chose that name for him because it worked in both English and Arabic."

"It does," he nonchalantly said, placing the stack of plates in the sink. After a pointed look from Mikaela, Sam joined him in clearing the table.

Leaning against the fridge, Habib crossed his arms with a twinkle in his eyes. "The name means 'guardian angel.' For which of the Autobots did you name my firstborn grandson?"

"Wait, really?" Sam blurted out, looking at Mohammed.

"Bumblebee?" Habib pressed.

Mohammed blinked and then looked at Sam. "You told them?"

"It only seemed fair that they should know what they were getting into," he said. "But seriously? All this time you're half-intimidated by the 'bots and you named one of your kids after them?"

Looking a little embarrassed, he said, "I never expected for you to find out about the name." To his father, he said, "And I certainly never expected for you to find out about the Autobots. Ayesha still doesn't know, nor do the boys." After a deep breath, he explained, "I named Haris for all of them, I guess. You've met more of them than you realize, Abi. Optimus, R.C. and Prowl are all Autobots, too, and they all have my respect. The Autobots are beings of sacrifice and deep devotion. It was a way to take inspiration from them and to honor them without picking and choosing."

"Smart man," Mikeala said with a sly grin at Sam.

Mikaela was less than seven weeks from her due date, and their baby was still just 'the baby' because Sam really wanted to name his firstborn and (maybe, probably, hopefully) human Prime of a son after Optimus. But Mikaela nixed that for a first name, no matter how much respect and appreciation she might have for her mechanical brother-in-law. She and Sam had gone the rounds on other names, but so far nothing had really stuck.

But maybe Mohammed had the right idea, Sam reflected. Go with a name for their baby that made sense to the outside world but still referred to the Autobots. Haris was taken, though. They'd have to come up with something else. Sam nodded to Mikaela – they'd definitely talk about this later.

"So what about Sufian?" Sam asked.

Habib laughed at that. Mohammed explained, "It means 'nimble' or 'swift-moving,' and he was named that because he was born six weeks early."

Mikaela pointed her finger scoldingly at her belly. "None of that now, young man!"

Four frogs, a dozen dandelion flowers, countless mudpuddles, and one bath later, Haris and Sufian laid down for a nap. Mikaela decided she needed one, too. Ayesha and Mohammed ran to the nearest grocery store for dinner supplies, and Anahita and Habib had decided to go for a walk down to the lake.

In the lull, Sam sat on a glider in the shade of those enormous blue spruces. On the other corner of the front yard (where 'Bee and RaFly had been in their base forms earlier), those spruces shielded the entire sideyard from view. On this side, though, a spruce had been cut down at some point, and so that the glider overlooked the lake. Sam could see Habib and Anahita arm-in-arm as they strolled along a waterfront trail. Beyond them, the sunlight glinted on the waves of the lake. Strangers on colorful kayaks and paddleboards dotted the surface, and on the far side, he could see houses hidden among the trees.

Despite the idyll, Sam was still anxious and pulled out his phone. While the 'bots had assured him everything was going to be okay – and so far it had been – a part of him still needed to hear it from the source. He sent a text of a single character to Optimus. /?/

/Victory,/ Optimus responded almost immediately, /but not without bitter cost. We will talk more tonight./

And with that brief response, the crisis ended for Sam and his shoulders slumped. There would be a tonight. And a regular old bond dream. And a tomorrow, and a few more weeks and then a baby who would have access to indoor plumbing and power outlets that worked and way more electronics than was probably healthy for him.

Yes, it came at a terrible cost, but the price paid had – against all odds – been enough.

Anahita and Habib returned while Sam was still helping Mohammed and Ayesha put groceries away. By then, Mikaela was awake again and sipping ginger ale at the table. Unfortunately, the boys were up, too, and starting to literally bounce off the walls.

"Oh good!" Anahita said when she saw Mikaela. "Let's start planning your henna design!"

"Hands and feet are traditional for a bride," Ayesha said, finding a notebook and pencil in a drawer and bringing them to the table. "But it's also become common to apply henna in protective designs to a woman's baby bump ahead of birth. If you're comfortable with that, that is."

Sam glanced at Mikaela to see her reaction to that, and she gave him a slightly-chagrined smile, her gaze darting to the salt-stains on his shirt from her crying earlier. They must have overheard her and were trying to comfort her.

To Ayesha, she said, "I think it's a beautiful tradition. Thank you for including me."

"They'll be at this for a while," Habib said to Sam and Mohammed. "Let's take the boys and go outside."

They'd found a soccer ball and were just starting to kick it around when Anahita approached Sam. In a low voice, she asked, "Where are your djinn?"

His glanced pointedly to the alt-forms in the driveway. "They've turned off the holoforms, but they're still right here. Why?"

"We're invoking the Hand of Fatima in Mikaela's henna design, and we need the djinn to lend their power to it."

"Um…" Sam said, floundering. "That's not how… I mean, they're not actually djinn…"

"Bah!" she said, but she was smiling as she dismissively waved away his protest. "This is a women's thing. You wouldn't understand. Just summon them and you come inside with them."

He glanced at Mohammed, who was close enough to catch at least part of the conversation, but he just shook his head and laughed.

Sam pulled out his cell phone and summoned the "djinn." Because there – still, amazingly – was an app for that.

Inside, Ayesha showed Sam and the 'bots the planned design. It was of four Hamsa hands with the heel of each hand pointing inward toward where Mikaela's navel would be.

"For each of you, we'll trace your right hand," Ayesha said. "If you fold down your pinkie finger, the outline Anahita and I will trace will be the Hand of Fatima. From there, we'll embellish it until we run out of henna or Mikaela decides we're done."

Sam asked Mikaela, "Is this what you want? I mean, this will stick around for weeks, right?"

"Yes," she said, her eyes bright. "It was all my choice. The Hamsa Hand as a symbol of protection against both harm and evil, and all of you as my protectors."

"Four is the number of totality, of the whole world," Ayesha added. "Like the four cardinal directions or the four hemispheres. You stand as a wall of protection around her against everything outside."

Sam nodded, appreciating the symbolism. "What exactly do you need us to do?"

Each in turn, Sam, RaFly, Bumblebee, and Wheelie placed a hand on her baby-belly. As Sam laid his palm to Mikaela's skin, the baby kicked against him, making him grin and just about breaking his heart for joy.

Sam worked the grill while Mohammed sat next to him in the shade of the porch roof, assembling the last few chicken shish kabobs for dinner. Everyone else – including holoforms – were sheltering from the mosquitos by playing some kind of game inside. Once in a while, everyone would shout or groan when someone won a round.

"You know," Sam said in a low voice, "Mikaela and I were both very grateful you sent us your parents' way, but I saw right through you. You also wanted us to pick up your folks so they'd be under the protection of the 'bots, if things turned out badly."

Mohammed glanced up at him, his expression guarded. "I should have known you would figure that out."

Sam smirked as he turned the kabobs. "That makes you an exceptionally good son, but it also created a mess of paperwork for me. Don't get me wrong – we were glad for their help and hospitality – but logging a new contact for the 'bots is the one and only downside to the world not ending."

Mohammed snorted softly in amusement. "I don't know why you're complaining. I'll be the one stuck filling out the paperwork and all you'll have to do is sign it digitally." His smile faded a little, though. "It was a gamble you'd correctly read between the lines, but I know my father and mother. They would not turn away a friend in need, even at the end of the world. I knew that both you and my parents would be better off if you were all together, that you'd be stronger together." His smile broadened again. "And you've got to admit, I was right."

"Right about what?" Habib asked, joining them.

"The wisdom of tossing you straight into the deep end when it comes to my… unconventional friends," Sam said.

Habib held his hands up in surrender. "I think Anahita and I have waded as deeply into the world of the djinn as we are comfortable. At least for right now. I just came out here to make sure you had everything you needed for the shish kabobs."

"We do," Mohammed said. "Thanks, Abi. Actually, could you get a platter for us to put the cooked shish kabobs on?"

Habib nodded and returned inside for the plate.

In the bond dream that night, Sam wasn't sure how long he waited on the aircraft carrier for Optimus, but it was a while. When his brother finally did arrive, he had the bond clamped down so tightly that Sam could barely feel him. It was even worse than when he was using his battle protocols.

"Optimus," Sam said in greeting.

"Sam," he answered.

"You did it," Sam said softly. "I woke up yesterday sure that the world as I knew it would end. But here we are," he added with a small smile.

Optimus shook his helm. "It was not me. It was Elita One and Ultra Magnus and all who stood with him. It was you and Alpha Trion and the Star Saber. It was Ironhide and the twins and the humans who stood with us. It was not me."

Sam finally clued in that the reason Optimus was blocking the bond so tightly was because he was in a foul mood. He was grieving. "Optimus… brother…" Sam wasn't quite sure what to say. Then he gratefully remembered that words weren't strictly necessary. He nudged up against the block, but the only emotion Optimus let slip through was a pleading sense of despair.

"I do not wish to burden you with this," he said.

"Who else are you going to share it with?" Sam asked with a sad smirk. "And don't give me any crap about me not being able to handle it or it being the lonely burden only a Prime can bear. I'm your brother. I'm going to hurt when you do, whether the bond is open or not. May as well make it official." He and Mikaela could cuddle in the back seat the entire way home tomorrow, and he could deal with any emotional fallout then.

Optimus slowly vented a sigh and glanced at Sam. "It's true we grieved as clans, before the War. We each took a small piece of the pain and gave affection, understanding, and comfort in return. The suffering was disbursed among many, and if those in the clan struggled, then their extended kin would bear part of the burden, too. You would be alone in offering that comfort, Sam. Even for a fellow Cybertronian, it would be too much to ask. It would mean you bearing as much as half of what I carry in my spark."

"Thanks to you, I've got the time to deal with it," Sam said. "It's thanks to everyone else, too, yes. But you're also part of this victory, and the fact that you don't recognize that has me even more convinced this is necessary."

Optimus slowly nodded and yielded to him, loosening his hold on the block.

Sam stepped closer, resting his forehead against Optimus' helm. "I'm here for you, brother."

Optimus opened the bond, and Sam mentally stepped forward.

The first blow was a familiar one to Sam: the loss of a mate, of Elita One, Optimus' valiant half. This vicarious grief was years old, but Sam still staggered under it. He could feel the contours of that scarred-over wound on Optimus' spark, but it was the deepest wound even now and always would be.

The second was less deep but older and broader: the loss of home, of Cybertron, of all the beauty and wonder and life. This was not a broken bond per se but, as the Matrix bearer, Optimus felt it as a continuous, grinding weight.

Then came the loss of Ultra Magnus. With that pain and grief fresh in his brother's broken spark, Sam fell to his knees, and Optimus dropped beside him, in sync. Sam broke out in sobs, while Optimus shook with his own grief, his engine revving hard in waves, belts and fans whining against the intensity.

Sam could feel his own spark responding, though. The part of him that was Cybertronian enveloped a piece of Optimus's pain – physical, emotional, even spiritual – and absorbed it. It wasn't like he was feeling sad for Optimus; it was like Mikaela herself had died. This wound was his own now, too. But it was only a piece of Optimus' sorrow, and despite what he'd said, Sam knew thanks to the bond that it was far less than half.

The blows continued in swift succession, though: Lancer, Beachcomber, Cliffjumper…each crew member of the Iron Will. Agent Graham, Bernie Sanchez, and so many other humans. With each one, Sam embraced the pain and sorrow and shouldered a part.

Even though Ironhide was on the mend, Optimus also grieved him and all the other Autobots who had been wounded because he'd delayed. But Ironhide's injuries in particular hurt. This was the mech who had willingly stepped into Optimus' stead even though he knew Megatron was on his way with dozens of Decepticons backing him up. That was yet another blow, and even though Sam struggled to catch his breath, he willingly accepted a portion of that grief.

When the blows finally ended and Sam had absorbed all he could for Optimus, he reflexively offered what he could. He recalled his hope for the future, particularly when he overheard Habib's prayer, and Optimus accepted a portion of that hope with a kind of stunned appreciation. Remembering his wife's tears soaking his shirt, Sam felt grateful relief well up in him for all the good that had survived, and that relief overflowed into Optimus' spark. The joys of a day spent celebrating by the lake sparkled in Sam's memory like sunshine on the waves. Optimus accepted those pieces to replace the grief, lingering with fascination on the way the baby kicked back against Sam while Anahita traced his fingers into the protective Hand of Fatima.

Just as in their roles as Hunter and Hunted, Optimus and Sam balanced each other in this. Both grief and joy were divided, making the first bearable and leaving the second strong enough to hearten. Sam was still grateful for that balance, even after what he'd just been through and even though he was pretty sure he'd have his first-ever bond hangover in the morning. It didn't matter.

All that mattered in that moment was being there for Optimus.